#this took. longer than I thought it would

[mythicalmaven]

(I used a screenshot of the original request in here, because I wans't able to reply to the original request anymore, whoops)

Here it finally is! Please let me know what you thought of it :) Requests are open btw! Feel free to request anything :) I'm considering to do kinktober as well this year, so leave your requests for that as well :)

Supposed To Be Mine - Charles Leclerc (ONESHOT)

Masterlist ↳pairing: charles leclerc x female!reader ↳word count: 4.9K ↳warnings: friends to lovers, jealous!sex, jealousy, (minor) possessiveness, jealous Charles, smut, 18+(MDNI!), handjob (m!receiving), pinv ↳summary: In which Oscar wins the Azerbaijan GP & Charles gets jealous because their mutual friend decides to celebrate with Oscar& not him (or so he thinks). This results in pent up emotions, a heated argument & of course, jealous sex

It was Sunday, September 15th when you found yourself making your way through the paddock. The sun was shining bright and the atmosphere was making you feel ecstatic. You, a familiar face on the grid, had been here to support your friends. While you usually worked as a member of the F1 TV team during Grand Prix, this weekend you were off duty, free to fully enjoy the festivities of the Grand Prix.

Over the years, you'd built strong friendships with most of the grid, but there were three drivers you were particularly close to: Oscar, Charles, and Alex. Each friendship had grown naturally, but in distinct ways.

Alex was the one who felt like a brother from the start. You clicked immediately, sharing the same dry humor, hobbies, and an undeniable love for animals. He was always there for you—whether it was picking you up from the club after too many drinks or cheering you up when your heart got broken again. If there was one word to describe your bond, it was siblings.

Then there was Oscar, your roommate. He ticked all the boxes for the perfect best friend. Your friendship took time to blossom, but once it did, you both quickly realized how well you fit together, purely platonically. The thought of taking it further had never crossed your minds—it just wasn’t like that. After moving to Monaco, you’d struggled to find an apartment, so Oscar offered you a place to stay. A year later, you were still living together because, honestly, it was too much fun to stop.

Then last, but certainly not least, Charles. Your bond with him was something else entirely. The connection between you felt effortless, almost surreal. He was the friend you could call at any hour to talk about anything or nothing. You could spend hours in comfortable silence, never growing bored. But Charles was also the friend that you had secretly been in love with for years. You knew you shouldn't be, your friendship worth way too much to risk it for a stupid crush. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get over him. Every time you dated someone else, it always came back to Charles.

But even if you'd allow yourself to feel the way you did about him, you'd already given up the hope of him ever feeling the same despite your friends insisting otherwise, pointing out how he smiled brighter when he was around you or how his gaze lingered a little longer. You were unable to believe it, the scenario seeming to good to be true.

There were moments—fleeting, breathless moments—when you thought something was there. Moments where your faces hovered inches apart, breaths mingling, hearts pounding. But right before anything could happen, one of you would pull back, retreating before the tension broke, both of you pretending it had never happened.

Charles had been in love with you longer than he cared to admit. Everything about you captivated him—the way your laughter filled a room, the ease with which you could calm him when he was frustrated, the way you just got him without him needing to explain a thing. Around you, he felt at ease and yet so unbelievably nervous. His heart would race whenever you were near, his palms would get sweaty, and he could feel the tension in his chest and stomach. There were so many times he’d wanted to pull you close, to feel your body against his, but something always stopped him.

It was fear. Fear that you would notice how much he felt for you and that it would scare you off. The thought of you realizing the depth of his feelings terrified him, because losing you, even as just a friend, was unthinkable. He tried to keep a distance for that reason, but it was impossible. You had this way of driving him wild without even trying, leaving him helpless in the wake of his emotions.

He’d fantasized about you more often than he dared to admit—so many nights spent alone in his apartment, hand slipping beneath his waistband, your name falling from his lips in breathless whispers. But it wasn’t just the physical desire; it was how much he felt when he was around you. You made him feel alive in a way no one else could.

And then, there was Oscar. The way you two were so close, always together, always laughing, sent a pang of jealousy through him. You said there was nothing romantic between you, but sometimes, Charles couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, you felt something for him. It ate at him, the idea of someone else having what he wanted so desperately. He didn’t know how much longer he could hold back.

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The roar of engines echoed across the pit lane as the top three finishers of the Azerbaijan Grand Prix parked their cars by their respective signs. Charles finished 2nd, which made you incredibly excited for him, but your excitement today reached an even higher level by the one who finished first. Oscar just won his second Grand Prix in F1 and you were feeling so incredibly proud.

You were standing at the front of the crowd, engulfing Oscar's mom in a crushing hug, sharing your mutual excitement. You looked up at Oscar climbing out of the car, bumping his fist in the air, cheering enthusiastically.

"God, look at him, finally a win he is allowing himself to enjoy!" you chimed to his mom.

You watched as Oscar ran straight into the arms of his engineers, their shared happiness palpable in the air. The joy between them was infectious, and you couldn’t help but smile as you took in the scene.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Charles climbing out of his car in the background, your heart skipping a beat at the sight of him. Post-race Charles always did things to you that you couldn't quite explain. You wanted to wave, but he seemed busy with his team, so you decided to congratulate him on his podium later.

Your attention shifted back to Oscar just as he approached his mum, pulling her into a warm embrace while carefully avoiding bumping her with his helmet.

"I'm so proud of you, darling!" she cooed, squeezing him a little tighter before they eventually pulled apart.

Oscar removed his helmet and reached up to pull off his balaclava, revealing a blissed-out expression. His smile was radiant, a mix of joy and relief, as if the weight of the race had melted away in that victorious moment.

He caught your eye, and his grin widened. "I did it! I actually did it!" he exclaimed, still sounding like he couldn’t quite believe it.

"You did! You really did!" you gushed, your smile matching his as you shared in his happiness.

Without warning, Oscar launched himself at you, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you over the fence you’d been leaning against. He hugged you tightly, spinning you around as both of you laughed, the sound of your shared joy echoing across the pit lane.

The cameras were all pointed in your direction, capturing the moment. To you and Oscar, it was nothing more than two best friends celebrating a hard-fought victory. But to the outside world, the scene looked far more intimate than it felt.

Charles stood at a distance, watching the moment unfold. His chest tightened as he took in the sight of you and Oscar together, laughter and smiles shared so easily between you. You’d told him there was nothing going on with Oscar, that the two of you were just best friends—but looking at you now, Charles couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy.

It hurt. It hurt to see you in Oscar’s arms, when he wished so desperately that it was him instead. He felt a wave of frustration, jealousy swirling inside him. Oscar was his friend, someone he genuinely liked, but seeing you together like that made it hard to think straight. The fear that Oscar might steal you away—his girl, even though you weren’t even his—gnawed at him.

“She said there was nothing between them,” he muttered under his breath, trying to convince himself.

Pierre appeared beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I think it’s not what it looks like, mate," he offered, sensing Charles’ mood.

Charles shook his head, frustration still bubbling beneath the surface. "That’s what they always say when they’re denying it," he replied, his voice low. "I know she’s single, and she can do whatever she wants with whoever she wants, but… it just hurts."

Pierre gave him a sympathetic look, but Charles couldn’t shake the feeling. He wanted to punch something, not because he hated Oscar—he liked Oscar—but because seeing you so close to him made him feel like he was losing you, even though you were never his to begin with.

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Later in the day, as the adrenaline from the race began to wear off, you found yourself searching for Charles. You had spent the afternoon immersed in the celebrations with Oscar and the McLaren team, reveling in their victory. Despite the fun, your thoughts kept drifting back to Charles.

Navigating through the bustling paddock, you scanned the area for any sign of him. You wanted to offer your congratulations and express how proud you were, but Charles seemed to have vanished.

When you stepped into the Ferrari motorhome, you were greeted by Carlos. The Spaniard offered you a small, knowing smile. "Hey," he said as he approached you.

"Hey, have you seen Charles?" you asked, absentmindedly twirling a stray strand of hair.

Carlos's smile turned apologetic. "He already left for the hotel. Said something about not feeling up to it today."

Your heart sank a bit. "Oh, I wanted to congratulate him earlier, but I got caught up with the celebrations."

A flicker of realization crossed Carlos's face. "Ah, that explains why he seemed so on edge when he came back here."

Confusion clouded your expression. "What do you mean?"

Carlos’s eyes twinkled with a hint of mischief. "I think Charles got a bit unsettled seeing you so close with Oscar instead of him."

You frowned, trying to make sense of it. "Why would he be annoyed? My best friend won the race. Of course I celebrated with him. It's not like I didn't want to celebrate with Charles, it's just that Oscar is my best friend. And he also deserves the attention when he achieves something amazing like this."

Carlos’s smirk widened slightly. "That’s exactly his problem."

You stood there, grappling with the situation, struggling to find the right words. Carlos seemed to sense your confusion and gently placed a hand on your shoulder. "Maybe you should talk to him. There might be more going on between you two than you realize."

His words hung in the air, adding a new layer to your thoughts as you considered the possibility of unspoken feelings and misunderstandings.

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"You seemed awfully intimate with Piastri this afternoon, anything unfolding there?" you heard Alex tease on through the phone.

He had called you had texted that you were on the way back to the hotel, something you often did to just gossip and rant about everything that went on.

You rolled your eyes, and huffed "Why does everybody keep saying that. Not even in my wildest dreams, ew" you whined "I know he's good looking, I'm not blind, but the idea of doing something with him revolts me just as much as it revolts him"

The chuckle that Alex let out was audible to you "Well, to be fair, it didn't look like nothing on camera" he started, another chuckle leaving his lips "Have you checked your social media lately? Apparently the camera's catched Charles' reaction to your little moment with Oscar. The video is going quite viral. He is shooting daggers at Oscar, man. The jealousy is literally burning in his eyes"

You sighed "Don't, Alex" you whispered "Don't give me hope"

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You arrived at Charles's hotel room with a mix of anxiety and frustration swirling inside you. His abrupt disappearance after the celebration, coupled with his avoidance of your calls, had left you feeling unsettled and concerned. Your knuckles rapped against the door, the sound echoing in the empty hallway. When Charles finally opened it, his face was a mask of irritation, the tension in his posture unmistakable.

“What’s going on?” you demanded, stepping past him before he could react.

Charles’s eyes were dark with frustration. “Nothing,” he snapped, but the rigidity in his stance and the clenched fists he tried to hide told a different story.

You let out a sigh, frustration bubbling up inside you. “I know you’re lying,” you insisted, moving to sit on the edge of his bed, trying to steady your breathing. “Please, just talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong. What did I do?”

Charles stood with his back to you, his breathing shallow and uneven. “Why him?” he finally asked, his voice strained and raw.

Confusion creased your brow. “What are you talking about?”

Charles’s frustration finally erupted. “Why did you celebrate with Oscar and not with me? I finished second. I deserved some attention too.”

You took a deep breath, trying to stay calm despite the rising tension. “Oscar’s my best friend too. This win was a big deal for him. I wanted to be there for him. I tried to find you, but you were already gone.”

Charles’s eyes flashed with hurt and jealousy, a dark storm clouding his gaze. “It feels like you care more about him than me. It fucking hurts to see you so close to him, probably even—”

His words struck a nerve, causing irritation to flare within you. “Oscar and I are just friends, Charles.” You stated, your anger bubbled over. “And so what if it was more? Why does it matter to you? I’m not your property. You dont get to decide who I spend time with. You’re my best friend, not my boyfriend.”

Charles’s face flushed with frustration, his voice rising with each word. “Merde, for fuck’s sake, I don’t want to be your best friend!”

His declaration stunned you, a mix of hurt and anger surging within you, causing tears to well up in your eyes. “Well, if you don’t want to be my best friend, I might as well go back to Oscar then. Since, according to you, that’s where I prefer to be. You apparently know me better than I do!”

Without waiting for a response, you turned to leave, but Charles’s hand shot out, grabbing your wrist with a desperate grip. His eyes burned with an intense emotion, a mixture of longing and possessiveness that was almost palpable. Before you could react, he pulled you close, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that was both fierce and consuming.

The kiss was rough, charged with pent-up emotions. Charles’s lips moved against yours with an urgent hunger, a reflection of the depth of his feelings. The heat of his body pressed against yours, every touch and caress infused with an intensity that left you breathless. His hands roamed over your curves, claiming you with each possessive stroke. You could feel the undeniable pressure of his arousal pressing against you, intensifying the moment.

He guided you gently back toward the bed, his touch both tender and commanding. Slowly, he lowered you down onto it, his hands caressing your sides with a reverence that spoke of his deep feelings for you. He leaned over you, his breath warm against your skin. “I don’t want to be your best friend,” he said, his voice heavy with desire. “I want to be your boyfriend.”

You were taken aback by his declaration, the words resonating deeply within you. Before you could respond, Charles’s lips were on yours again, kissing you with a fierce passion that left you breathless. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer, as he explored your body with a mix of urgency and tenderness.

You moaned softly, the sound escaping your lips as his touch ignited a fire within you. Charles’s arousal was evident, his body pressing against yours in a way that heightened your senses. “Tell me you think about me at night and not him,” he demanded, his voice husky and filled with longing.

The world around you seemed to dissolve as Charles’s touch and kisses overwhelmed your senses. His hands roamed over your body, exploring, caressing, igniting every nerve with a mix of desperation and adoration. His touch was both possessive and tender, his kisses deep and demanding.

“Tell me,” he urged, his voice a low, heated whisper. “Tell me you scream my name when you come and not his.”

You met his intense gaze, your voice breathless and filled with yearning. “Only you, Charles. It has always been you.”

Charles’s eyes darkened with satisfaction, his expression softening slightly as he continued his intimate exploration. He guided your hands to his jeans, his breathing ragged with desire. “Have you ever thought about him like this?” he asked, his voice a rough whisper. “Touched him like this?”

You looked up at him, your eyes filled with a mixture of defiance and affection. “It’s only you, Charles,” you replied, your voice sultry. “I never saw Oscar that way.”

Charles’s frustration and desire mingled as he felt your touch, his body tensing and his control slipping. He moaned softly, a deep, guttural sound that reflected his overwhelmed state. His hands gripped the edge of the bed for support as you palmed him through his jeans, your touch eliciting a series of desperate groans from him.

Unable to hold back any longer, you undid the button of his jeans and slid your hand inside, taking him in your grasp. Charles gasped, his breathing coming in short, erratic bursts. “F-Fuck,” he whimpered, his voice strained. “That feels so good.” His body tensed and trembled, overwhelmed by the sensation of your touch. “J-Just like that,” he gasped, his voice a desperate, needy growl. “Show me you’re mine. I want you to think about me every time you touch yourself. I hope that after tonight, you can never touch another man without thinking about me.”

You looked at him, your eyes filled with passion. “It’s already been like that for years,” you whispered, your voice trembling with desire.

Charles’s gaze softened for a moment, but his need took over. He flipped you back onto the bed with a sudden, urgent intensity. His movements were driven by a deep-seated desire, his lips finding yours again, kissing you with a feverish passion that made your heart race.

As he undressed you, his touch was both deliberate and passionate. He removed the last bits of his clothing with a mix of urgency and tenderness, his hands lingering on your skin, savoring the feel of you beneath him. He paused, looking into your eyes with a mixture of tenderness and desire. “Are you sure you want this?” he asked, his voice a low, heated whisper. “Tell me, do you want this as much as I do?”

You nodded, your voice breathless with anticipation. “Yes, Charles. I want you. I want all of you.”

Charles’s eyes darkened with satisfaction as he positioned himself above you. His hands continued their intimate exploration, his kisses trailing down your neck and shoulders with a mix of urgency and tenderness. Each touch was a declaration of his intense feelings, a blend of passion and possession that left you craving more.

As the intensity of the moment built, Charles’s control wavered. He pulled back slightly, his eyes filled with a mixture of need and desire. “Tell me you’re mine,” he urged, his voice a rough whisper. “I want to hear you say it, mon amour”

You looked at him, your body trembling with desire as he continued to touch and kiss

you. “I’m yours, Charles,” you whispered, your voice trembling with both need and certainty.

Charles’s expression softened into one of profound relief and adoration, but a trace of jealousy lingered in his eyes, his gaze never leaving yours. As he positioned himself between your legs, there was a mixture of tenderness and possessiveness in his touch. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he murmured, his voice filled with deep emotion and a hint of a possessive edge.

With that, he entered you slowly, his movements tender yet unmistakably possessive. His thrusts were gentle and loving, but each one was infused with a sense of claiming, as though he was marking you as his own. His kisses were gentle but urgent, his lips traveling down your neck as he began to suck and nibble, leaving marks that would clearly show his affection and his possessiveness.

You gasped, feeling the intensity of his touch. “Charles, be careful. They will be visible,” you said, your voice a mixture of concern and pleasure.

Charles’s eyes darkened with a mix of satisfaction and jealousy. “That’s the point,” he murmured against your skin, his voice a low growl filled with both desire and a possessive undertone. “I want him to see and know that you belong to me. I want him to see what he’s missing, that you’re mine and mine alone.”

His words stirred something deep within you, causing a moan to escape your lips that was loud and unrestrained, a testament to the intense pleasure you were experiencing. Your hand instinctively traveled up to his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled gently but firmly. The sensation of his hair being tugged caused him to shiver, and he let out a deep, guttural moan that reverberated against your skin.

Charles’s reaction was immediate and visceral. He groaned softly, his breath coming in ragged bursts as the pull on his hair heightened his arousal. “Fuck...” he whispered, his voice trembling with both pleasure and disbelief. The feeling of your fingers in his hair only intensified his longing, making him feel as though he were losing control. “Merde… that feels so good,” he muttered, his tone rough and desperate. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

The way you tugged at his hair drove him to new heights of pleasure, his moans growing louder and more fervent as he lost himself in the sensations. Each pull sent a jolt of electricity through him, making his movements more urgent and fervent, as though he were trying to convey just how deeply your touch affected him.

As he continued, his thrusts maintained a balance of gentle passion and possessive claim, his hands gripping you with a mix of tenderness and assertion. The rhythm of his movements was both caring and commanding, a reflection of his deep, conflicted emotions. His kisses left a trail of marks, each one a silent declaration of his fierce, consuming love and possessiveness.

Charles’s eyes lock onto yours, his breath coming in short, uneven bursts. “I-I’m so close,” he gasps, his voice strained with the intensity of the moment. The desperate need in his eyes makes your heart race, his body pressing into yours with a fervor that only heightens your own arousal.

You can barely hold back your own pleasure, the sensations coursing through you almost overwhelming. “Me too” you moan, your voice trembling as you inch closer to the edge. “Come for me, Charles,” 

Your encouragement is the final push he needs, and his body reacts instantly. The combination of your words and the electric tension between you drives him over the edge. The urgency in Charles’s movements and the heat of his gaze as tumbles over the edge draws you to the peak of your ecstasy with him.

As the two of you reached the peak of your intimacy, Charles’s moans mingled with your own, creating a symphony of pleasure and connection that echoed through the room. The shared release was an explosion of ecstasy that left you both trembling and gasping, entwined in the aftermath of your union. 

When the world finally settled and the waves of pleasure began to recede, Charles held you close, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he whispered, “God, you have no idea how long I’ve been in love with you.”

You smiled through your own breathless satisfaction, responding softly, “I could say the same to you.”

Charles’s expression softened further as he kissed you tenderly, his hands caressing your skin with a gentleness that spoke of his deep affection. The moment was filled with a profound sense of connection and fulfillment, a testament to the depth of his feelings and the strength of your bond.

masterlist

[tbaluver]

Can you do the boys with a mentally unwell reader? Like she has depression, ocd, or anxiety that she takes medication for?

S/O Who Faces Mental Illness- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader tags: ( for all ) mentioning of depression/ depressive episodes, ocd rituals, anxiety/ social anxiety a/n: hi anonnie ! ♡⸜(˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝ sorry this took awhile, this was sitting in my drafts and i would keep coming back to it. i just wanted to make sure this topic is handled with care. i know that everyone has different types of depression, anxiety, and ocd so i wrote the ones that i'm familar with and gone through. i hope this was okay lmk ! ̤̮

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Xavier:

Xavier has always been such an attentive lover to you and he’s grown increasingly worried as he observed your unhealthy habits. He notices how you spend more time in bed than usual, longer than he would stay in bed. How you seem disinterested in eating, even if it were foods you typically enjoyed. Noticing how these impacts have affected you, he has made the effort to educate himself better on what you’re going through to understand and support you better.

If you were taking any medications, he'll read the entire packet that came with it or look up as much information he can online. He'll try to remember all the side effects that comes with it and makes sure to check up on you whenever you take them.

He notices when your energy plummets so it’s his duty to take care of you. He tries to make everything easy for you. He’ll make sure to tuck both of you in bed, turning off the lights when you both get ready, making sure to have food delivered when you wake up. Xavier encourages you to take a walk outside with him, helping you get some fresh air and encouraging you to step out of bed. He’ll hold your hand the entire time.

Distractions were one of the ways he could get your mind off any anxious thoughts or from any of your OCD rituals. He'll have a list of your favorite things to do and see if it helps. He'll stay with you in bed all day if that's what you need and wouldn't let you isolate yourself. Will also build a fort to cuddle you up in and have you tucked in his arms.

Anytime you two were out and you started to feel drained, then he'll take you back home. You two can stay in and cuddle.

He never pushes you beyond your comfort levels. If there was any situation where you started to feel uncomfortable, then he'll lead the situation and you somewhere else that sets you more at ease.

Zayne:

Zayne is no stranger to the topics of mental illness. He’s gone through extensive studies and many clinical experiences with patients. But with you, it's different. Your struggles aren’t just a clinical case to him, they’re personal. He’s acutely attuned to subtle changes of your mood and actions. He notices the quiet shifts in your expressions, or the way your eyes dull and lose their sparkle. Even though it’s hard to read through his expressions, it truly does hurt him to see you suffer. Your internal pain that you battle inside hurts him more than words can convey.

If you were to go through a depressive episode and you feel like you can’t do everything you need, then Zayne has no problem doing the extra housework or helping you with your physical health. He would reassure you to not feel guilty even though he’s busy with his work or any paperwork's. You have done so much as a loving partner to him and he will always return the favor for you.

He’ll help you shower and dress you up. He'll make sure to brush your hair gently and that you brush your teeth. He’ll even make sure you eat enough and he’ll praise you for taking every bites.

He’s always there for you. Even if he was in the middle of work, he would remind you to never hesitate to reach out whenever you feel isolated or just needed to vent, anything. Spam him, leave voice messages- he’ll read every word and listen to each message and reply with care. No matter how busy he might be, he’ll find a way to call you as soon as he can. He wants to make sure you’re okay and to remind you that you’re never alone, even when he’s away. Your well-being matters so deeply to him that he’s committed to be there for you in every possible way.

He'll keep note of all the side effects you've experienced with your medications, so he's aware of the potential issues that might arise when you take them. Will send you texts reminding you to take your meds at the right time and to make sure you eat before you take them so you don’t get nauseous.

He’s a very attentive and caring partner, he pays close attention to the triggers of your OCD and observes the coping mechanisms you have. He notices your struggle with hand washing compulsions and understands how these rituals can take a toll on you. He’ll try to help you by pointing out that excessive hand washing can actually be harmful, as it washes away the beneficial ones that your body needs.

He'll be very reassuring when you feel the need to constantly check up on things. He won't judge you for it but instead he'll offer to check on it himself and reassure you that everything is okay.

It wouldn’t be new to him to avoid places that were crowded or super noisy. He would know where all the less crowded and quiet places are. At this point, he already had taken the time to understand your triggers and sources of anxiety. He just wanted to be well-informed so he can help you avoid these situations and provide the support and care you need.

If you were to experience an anxiety attack, he remains calm and patient and helps you try to breathe. Whenever you need to vent, he’s always there for you. He’ll let you curl up on his lap while you talk, gently stroking your hair. Although he’s quiet while you talk, you know he listens to every detail and he doesn’t want to interrupt you. After you finish sharing, he’ll offer advice or discuss the situation to help you work through it together.

Rafayel:

He knows that you were going through significant struggles because it often kept you doing certain things with him. There are times when the weight of your depression and anxiety feels so heavy that it drains your motivation, making your favorite hobbies or simply just doing anything seem out of reach. Sometimes the intensity of your OCD leads you to stay up, unable to rest because you repeatedly check things like the light switches, doors, windows, and everything else in the house.

OCD is a topic that Rafayel wouldn’t tease or be playful on with you. He notices the small things when you repeat patterns or prefer certain number sets. He’s very patient and understanding about this topic but anytime you feel as if your ocd ritual was messed up, he is quick to run to your side and reassure you that everything will be okay.

Rafayel has been in a dark place himself so he knows the signs when you’re struggling. Whether you’ve been through this over and over again, he’ll help you through this every single time. If you don't have the energy to take a shower or a bath, then he’ll simply carry you and wash you himself. He’ll join you and use your favorite bath bomb scents and make it a little fun by blowing bubbles at you. A smile would curl up on his lips when he sees you smiling again.

He wouldn’t force you to talk. He’ll do most of the talking and hopefully it takes your mind off anything you were anxious about. When you are ready to talk, he’ll praise you. It’s a big step forward in healing and he would be listening attentively to everything you say.

Rafayel would text you throughout the day and ask how you were feeling. He's always there at your beck and call. If you need anything, he already has it and he's on his way to you.

If you were out in public and you started to feel uneasy, he would lead you somewhere else. Rafayel would always be holding your hand for security and to make sure you were always right by his side. He doesn't mind wherever you both go, as long as he's with you. He makes sure that you two can go to places that aren't crowded or noisy but still enjoyable and fun for the both of you.

He’s very worried whenever you take medications. He knows that they can have some mean and nasty side effects and that’s the last thing he would want you to go through. He’ll always make sure to check up on you a couple hours later to see how you’re holding up.

Sylus:

It does not take him long to notice you were acting off. Nothing can get past this man and he doesn’t want you to feel like you have anything to hide from him. No matter what the issue is, he isn’t leaving your side and you’ll both work on the issue together. He doesn’t want you to go through anything alone.

When you feel empty and you simply want to sink into your bed and lay there motionless because everything in the world was just too much, Sylus will not hesitate to take action. He’ll make sure you're eating nutritious meals by calling his private chefs or he’ll make them himself. He’ll sit right beside you and watch you take enough bites or he’ll spoon feed it to you himself. Sylus would make sure to tell you that you were doing so well even if the bites were big or small. After you are done eating, he’ll make sure that you take all your meds and check up on you if any of the side effects arise.

He’ll be right by your side at any doctor's appointments. He’ll carry you to the bathroom himself or he’ll use his evol to help wash, dry, and dress you up. Sylus would encourage you as well to go on walks with him so your body is still moving and so you can get some fresh air. He does all of this because he loves you and he doesn’t want you to lose any of the progress you made. He knows your capabilities and he knows you will get through this. He’ll be right by your side the entire time.

When he notices that your OCD rituals are becoming overwhelming, he doesn't hesitate to step in to help. He finds engaging activities for the both of you to do so it steers your focus away from the obsessive thoughts. Understanding how OCD can distort your perceptions, he uses distractions as a way to gently pull you out of that obsessive cycle.

Sylus would let you know that he’s accessible. Whenever you need him, feel free to call him any time and he’ll drop anything and come by to help you.

Don't even bother brushing off any of your issues. Anything that bothers you, he's always there to listen and help you. He’s a great listener and he never judges you for any problems you had and the reason behind your behavior. His shoulder is for you to lean on, cry on, laugh on, and hold on, etc. He’s understanding and wants you to be happy again.

When he’s away, he will have food delivered to you. He’ll make sure you eat and that you take your meds right after by calling or texting to remind you. Or he’ll just send Mephisto to you. He’ll caw/squawk repeatedly until you finish your meals.

[d0rothydraws]

After a night out things get heated and Sylus can't control himself, revealing a new side of him.

content: f!reader, monster cock, porn without plot, public sex, multiple orgasms, Inappropriate use of Evol, after care, just a lot of smut idk

w/c: 3.7k

Ao3: Here

a/n: This took so long i'm so sorry works been wearing me out so much I haven't been able to post much. I hope this satisfies all the monster fuckers that wanted this from my one post.

Tonight had been.. A lot. You and Sylus were at a dinner banquet. Apparently a very important man was hosting the event and Sylus was looking for information about something. You didn’t really know or ask. You don’t really ask many questions these days. Sylus had custom fit you one of the most beautiful dresses you had ever seen. It was made of the softest silk, the neckline was low yet tasteful, showing enough to catch some looks but not enough to feel exposed. The skirt had a high slit that went to the top of your hip, exposing your leg once in a while. As you walked, the long skirt looked like it was flowing around you like water. You wore matching blood red heels that looked like they were carved out of ruby. The light catching them in a mesmerizing way. Your hair was done in a way where it framed your face, pulled in an updo that bounced slightly every time you took a step. And on your neck was a crow pendant embedded with a ruby. 

To say it simply, you looked beautiful. Elegant. 

And Sylus couldn’t keep his eyes, or hands, off of you.

As you walked, his hand was draped around your waist, hand on your hip. Or his hand was on your lower back, or when you sat his hand was on your thigh, fingers drawing patterns that sent a chill down your spine. He looked at you from the corner of his eye, meeting yours once in a while. You almost could feel the hot breath that left him when this happened, exhaling every time as if he was trying to control himself. 

You couldn’t lie, it felt good to see him like this. It wasn’t like he didn’t know what you would look like in the dress, it was custom fit, custom designed just for you. He had seen it on you before. And yet when anyone looked over at you, giving you just the smallest bit of attention, you felt his hand tighten, body pulled closer. Your hip flush against his. You could feel heat radiating from his body.

Part of you wondered if he was going to end up dragging you into the bathroom. A couple times you thought he was considering it, especially as his hand moved to the inside of your thigh halfway through the banquet. His rough fingers trailed higher, brushing against your panties. He leaned over whispering in your ear, his voice thick as honey. 

“You look delicious.” His words sent a shiver through your body as your hand tightened on the fork you were holding. You looked around, everyone was talking about something you didn't understand. Nobody knew what was happening under the table. And in a bold decision, you parted your thighs just a little bit more. Moving your hips to press against the fingers that were tracing your folds through your panties. You heard his breath catch, his hand pausing for only a second, Sylus’ lips returned to your ear. 

“Try not to squirm too much, kitten. I’m not sure how much longer I can hold back.” He said as his fingers dipped under the fabric, calloused fingers grazing the sensitive skin. You took a bite of food to hide a moan, your face red as a shaky breath left your lipsticked lips. You wanted nothing more than to ride his hand. To throw all caution to the wind and thrust your hips against his fingers until you were clenching and twitching around him, begging for more. 

And suddenly, his hand was gone. Your disappointment must have been audible because he chuckled, bringing his finger to his lips. Swiftly he liked them as if he was licking off a stray drop of sauce that fell onto his hand. You caught the look in his eye as his right eye started glowing slightly. Glancing down you seen the red and black tendrils of his power snake its way around your leg. It felt warm and you tried to not shiver or make a sound as you felt the weight of it move between your thighs. Your panties pushed to the side and as a reflex you tried to close your legs. The tendrils pushed your legs back open gently, like a pair of hands and as you felt the warmth against your core, you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching a hand out, putting it on Sylus’ thigh, nails pressing into the thick meat. 

It felt as if it was Sylus himself between your thighs, just a different version. The feeling was like a warm tongue licking at you, lapping up every bit that you provided as you tried your damndest to not moan, or at least, too loud. You never felt anything like this before. You almost forgot you were in public until you heard his voice in your ear again. 

“Quiet, kitten. You’ll get caught.” His voice was low, strained. A rush of adrenaline flooded your veins as you choked back a whine. The energy pushed inside you, curling exactly where you needed it. Licking your sensitive, throbbing clit. Your hand on his thigh tightened, nails digging in more making him give a low groan deep in his throat. 

“Sylus-” You said, trying to be quiet, but the sound was choked out. Your breathing was heavy, face red and eyes were starting to get glossy. “I can’t. P-please, I-” You let out a choked gasp, louder than you wanted as your orgasm rushed through you. You clenched around the thick mass of energy inside you as you panted, blushing so dark that you probably matched your dress. A few people turned to look, eyebrows raised in curiosity as they saw your out of breath expression. 

“We will be taking our leave now.” Sylus said, the energy around your lower half dissolved as if it never happened. Your legs felt numb as you tried to steady your thoughts, your heart pounding and blood rushing. Your body moved on its own as Sylus stood, as if being willed by him to follow. You had no complaints about this, your anticipation was as high as ever to get him alone. His hand was firm on your lower back giving you much needed support as you walked to the car.

The drive home was quiet but the tension was thick. His body was tense as he pulled into the driveway and before you could even open the door, the red-black tendrils of energy embraced you again. Your body was moved by a force you couldn’t fight even if you wanted to. A thrill ran through your body. He had never used his Evol on you like this before. 

You were placed in the middle of the bedroom, Sylus following you through the door as his eye glowed. His hands in his pockets as he looked at you with a hunger you never saw from him before. You let out a slow breath, feeling the energy dissolve into the air as he towered over you, a hand moving to your chin. 

“Sweetie, you almost made me lose control, looking like that in public. It’s dangerous, you know.” He said, fingers trailing your skin as his other hand trailed down the curve of your waist, admiring the figure hidden under the dress he picked out. 

“I guess you could say I had a good stylist.” You said with a half laugh, he chuckled, a low sound that warmed your core. His hand moved behind your neck, fingers making quick work of the tie that held the light dress on your body. With a flick of his fingers, the fabric fell to the floor around your feet. Your hand moved to his chest, trailing up to wrap around his tie. 

The tension broke as you pulled him down into a rough kiss, one of his hands curled in your hair while the other moved to your hip. He guided you as you felt the bed hit the back of your legs, one of his legs coming to rest on the edge of the bed as you fell back. His kiss was hot, hungry. Teeth bite your lip, tongues pushing against each other as your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer. He took your hand from his tie, his fingers wrapping around yours as he pinned it above your head. 

“Do you trust me?” He breathed in your ear as he pulled back, panting softly. You could feel the hardness of his cock against your thigh, straining his pants. You arched your hips up to apply some pressure, making him groan. You knew there was only one answer to his question.  

“Yes.” 

The grip on your hand tightened as it was pushed harder into the soft mattress, his other hand moved to your face bringing your lips to his as he kissed you. Slow, deep. Different from the kiss you just had. You felt hot breath on your cheek as he breathed out through his nose asif he was holding his breath waiting for your answer. In turn, the kiss took your own breath away as you pulled back, your lips slightly red from how he bit your lip as you pulled back. His fingers traced the outline of your lower lip as his eyes stared down at you, red orbs swirling.

“Darling,” His voice made a low sound as his eyes looked into you. A serious look that brought you back to reality for a moment. He didn’t give you that look often.  “I’m not sure if I'll be able to hold back tonight.” Sylus sounded just as breathless as you felt. “If you need me to stop at any point, tell me. Promise me.” He said, the hand on your cheek gently tracing the skin under his fingers. “I don’t want to hurt you.” Your heart fluttered as you looked up at him. Your cheeks flushed as you took a deep breath, processing his words. 

You two had a safe word. It was well established when you started becoming physical. There was one time you did have to use it, not because of anything horrible but you weren’t in the right mindset for what he had planned that night. So instead of putting yourself through it, knowing that he wouldn’t want you to do that, you said it. He stopped instantly followed by a warm bath, snacks, and your favorite show. 

“I promise.” You breathed, looking into his eyes as he stared down at you. There was something that you couldn’t tell, that you never had seen before. “I trust you, Sylus.” You whispered, bringing your free hand to pull him into a slow kiss that matched the last one. You put your whole soul into that kiss, as if hoping he would understand just how much you cared for him. How without a thought you would put your life in his hands, knowing damn well that he would do the same for you. 

As the kiss continued, the energy began to change. Once soft and gentle was becoming something more. His lips were hot, hungry as he straddled your hips. His clothed cock grinded against your thigh making your body twitch and shiver with need. His hand on your face became rougher, holding your jaw firmly as his kiss devoured you. He pulled away with a soft growl, licking his lips. 

“You’re like a drug to me.” Sylus said as his hands moved to pull at his clothes, buttons unfastening to reveal his chest. Your mouth started to salivate at the sight.  Your hands moved up to help him, guiding your palms over the surface of his skin. Sylus let out a low sound, watching you as you made your way to his belt. He didn’t stop you as you undid the fasten. The sound of metal was loud in the room as it fell from its hold as Sylus pulled the belt and tossed it on the floor. 

His lips were on you again. Hungry, hot. You felt your breath be taken from your lungs as your hands were pinned above your head. His tongue pushing into your mouth, devouring you whole. He pulled away with a low growl, looking down at you, his eyes dark and his lips red from the kiss and the stain of your lipstick. 

“Roll over kitten.” Sylus purred as he let go of your hands and instantly you followed his direction. You felt the slick of your arousal as you moved, making your need even more known to you as you turned. Now with your ass to him, arched as your cheek laid against the pillow. You felt his fingers wrap under the lace of your panties, pulling them down to your knees. You looked over to him, your view obstructed but still managed to match his eyes. 

No words needed to be said, both of you needed the same exact thing and he wasn’t in a mood to tease you, at least not at the moment. His hands worked on his pants, letting them fall to the floor as he stood off of the bed, his boxers following. Your mouth watered, moaning into the pillow at the sight of him. Hard, dripping. His hand wrapped around his cock, pumping slowly as his thumb brushed against the angry red head. You felt your pussy clench as if trying to draw him in. He was beautiful. He didn’t even look human. No human could be this beautiful. 

As he climbed back onto the bed he wasted no time in positioning himself. He kissed your back, one hand on himself to adjust while the other was on your ass, sinking into the soft flesh. He kissed your back again before speaking into your ear, his voice was rough, deep.

“Remember our promise?” He whispered, his voice strained. Reminding you that you would use the safe word if you needed. You felt his tip slide against you, eager for the final confirmation. You nodded into the pillow, shifting your hips as you grinded against him. He groaned, the hand on your ass getting rougher as he held you still. 

He began to push into you slowly. You felt your body stretch to accommodate him, your moan loud as your body felt like electricity was pulsing through your veins at the feeling. Fuck he always felt so good. So thick, so heavy inside you. Your eyes rolled as he bottomed out his hands gently rubbing your back, your ass, the back of your thighs. He waited a moment, his breath strained as he tried to contain himself. But as he started to thrust it was a lost cause. 

You cried out moaning as he pulled out, thrusting back in. Your body shook as you felt him fuck you, his thrusts started to get faster the louder you moaned as if the sound of your cries edged him on, which was very much the case. You tightened around him, gasping as you felt his hand coming to rub against your clit, his rough thumb brushing the sensitive skin. 

“You sound so beautiful darling. Let me hear how you sound as you cum on my cock.” He purred in his ear. His voice sounded.. Different. Deeper somehow, more primal, needy. It drove you wild. You moaned gasping as you moved your body against him, fucking yourself on his cock while he pressed his thumb against you. You felt the sensation take over your body as Sylus hit that spot inside you that made you cry out and see stars. Your orgasm flowed through you as your pussy fluttered and clenched around him, pushing him to the brink as he filled you with his hot cum. 

You caught your breath, your forehead sticky with sweat as you felt your body tremble from the release. Sylus on the other hand, was still inside you. Cock hard, twitching as if he didn't just cum inside you. His hands gripped your hips, his lips moving to your back as he kissed your sweaty skin. You could hear his heart pounding, as fast as ever. 

“I’m not done with you yet, sweetie. That was a warmup.” He said as he started to thrust again, slowly at first. Your body shivered and moaned at the sudden movement, sensitive from your orgasm as he stated to fuck you. You felt his cum inside you, being fucked deeper. You blushed gasping, your head spinning with pleasure. 

As he fucked you, you swore his hands on your hips felt larger. His nails were digging into your skin as if they were talons. Not cutting into you, but more noticeable than before. You gasped, your mouth opening against the pillow, eyes widening as you whimpered. 

“Sylus!” You cried out as you felt your pussy stretch more than before. You felt his cock, which was already big and thick, get even bigger. The girth stretching you out more to the point your legs were shaking. You felt him hit places inside you you didn't even know existed. You felt tears fall from your eyes, sure it hurt a little but god you never felt so good in your life. You felt his tongue lick up your spine, long, thick. His mouth moved to your ear, sharp teeth nipping the skin. You could hear your heart pound. What was he? How did he become… like this? 

“Wow kitten, you took me so well.” Sylus purred. He wasn’t even moving yet and you were a whimpering crying mess. “I bet you love being stretched out on my cock like this, don’t you? I’m not even moving and it feels like you’re about to cum again.” He teased as you felt a rough, larger than normal thumb brush against your clit. “Careful, if you do, you might boost my ego. I could get addicted to this.”

Your head spun as you whimpered and moaned. You couldn’t see him. Even if you tried to turn, he was pressed against your back. But he wasn’t wrong. You were close. So agonizingly close that when he touched his thumb to that damn spot between your legs it was instant. You cried out, clenching around him and he hissed at the feeling. His cock twitched inside you as he felt you cum on his cock from nothing more than just being inside you. Filling you up completely. Stretching you to your limit to the point you weren’t sure if you’d be able to walk later. 

“Good girl. You’ve been such a good girl for me, haven’t you?” Sylus purred into your ear as he started to move. Your eyes widened as you cried out, hands clawing at the bedsheets as you felt how massive he truly had become now that he started moving. Your legs shook as you struggled to keep yourself propped up on your knees. His hands came to grab your hips as you whimpered and moaned mindlessly into the pillow. His hands felt so big, so strong. He had always been strong but this was different, otherworldly. He held you exactly how and where he wanted you as he began to fuck into you. Your body bounced and shook as if you were a ragdoll. 

“That’s it, sweetie, just like that. You’re a perfect little slut for me, aren’t you. Taking anything I give you, no matter how big. You’ll stretch your tight little pussy for me, won’t you?” Sylus growled in your ear and you gasped, eyes rolling back at his words. You couldn’t control the sounds coming from your lips, or the drool that spilled out onto the silk pillowcase. You couldn’t stop the loud needy whimper at the things he said to you. His nails pressed into your soft flesh as he continued to ravish you. 

His thrusts started to get unsteady as he panted, one hand groping your ass as the other curled into your hair, turning your face for him to kiss you. His long tongue forced its way into your mouth, his teeth were sharper but it felt more like fangs now that you could feel him better. You opened your eyes for a second, catching a glimpse to see that he looked normal. As he pulled away and opened his eyes though, you noticed how both eyes were glowing red. It looked like orbs of the red mist of his Evol flowing inside his eyes. It was beautiful. If you weren’t getting your brains fucked out you would have more time to appreciate it. 

The hand returned between your thighs, drawing circles against your sensitive nub. As he felt you twitch and whimper, his hand continued until he pulled another orgasm out of you. Your scream was muffled by the pillow but the sound made him take in a sharp breath. Even when he was like this, the sounds you made affected him more than you could ever know. You felt as his cock twitched, his thrusted uneven before he came inside you. The feeling was different than before. It was thicker and it felt like there was more than usual. You gasped, moaning as you felt him thrust a few more times, the thick globs of cum running down your thighs. 

Slowly, you felt him begin to pull out. Your body was too weak and tired to turn around and look at him but that was the last thing on your mind right now. You didn’t care what form he took. He was still yours. And you were still his. You felt him shift around you, his arms pulling you into his chest as he kissed your head. The smell of him flooded your senses as a sense of calm you never felt before came over you. 

His hands were so gentle as he carefully checked for marks and scratches. You felt a warm cloth on your thighs. A cold bottle of water pressed to your lips. You opened your mouth and the bottle tipped so gently. His hands were still on you, gently touching and caressing you. As you opened your eyes gently you saw the oh so familiar black and red mist surrounding you. Cleaning you, giving you water. You felt a kiss on the top of your head as Sylus pulled you closer. 

“Relax, kitten. You’ll need to recover. I’ll take care of everything.”

~•~•~•~

some people on my post asked to be tagged or really seemed to want this so here u guys go i hope you dont mind the tag

@lunacielooo @in-too-deepspace @sefynarose

[duckymcdoorknob]

How your first sleepover with Genshin Men went

Fair warning, this is pure crack. No over-exaggerated fluff or cute stuff, just as real as sleeping beside another person can get!

Leave characters and ideas in the comments for part two !

Feat. Kaeya, Kaveh, Itto, Kazuha, and Diluc.

(Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five)

Taglist: @ticklish-n-stuff @elysianavenue @chrimsss @switch-writer @giggly-squiggily

You stared at your boyfriend lovingly as he cleaned up from the simple dinner date you had just shared. How lucky you were to have ended up with such a wonderful man like him… Lost in your own thoughts, you fail to miss the sudden pattering against the rooftop of his home.

He sighs and listens intently to the area outside before coming to a conclusion: it was way too heavily raining for you to go out there. When you blinked back to reality, you saw your lover knelt in front of you, wiping his hands with a towel.

“(Y/N), love, it’s really coming down out there… would you be okay to stay a little longer so it can calm down?”

“Hmm- what? What?-“ his words took a bit to process “I suppose…”

The rain failed to calm down, it only seemed to roar more severely. You sighed longingly as you looked out the window. You heard a gentle chuckle and felt a hand on your shoulder. “Follow me, let’s start getting ready for bed.”

You furrowed your brows. “What do you mean, follow you?”

“You’re my partner,” he answered. “There’s no way I’d ever let you sleep anywhere else than my bed.

You sighed and obeyed, completing as much of your nightly routine that you can (all while wearing pajamas that definitely aren’t yours). You settled into bed next to him, immediately being wrapped in his arms.

You settled with a smile, closing your eyes and cuddling close…

Kaeya: The Revolving Door

After a few short minutes of relaxation, you felt your boyfriend squirm beneath you. Within an instant, Kaeya had muttered something and gently slipped out of bed, carefully placing you on the fluffy mattress.

“What’s wrong, honey?” You asked, still fully alert.

“Bathroom light,” He answered as he stepped back toward the bed.

He settled back down, then after a little maneuvering, it was like he never left.

You both closed your eyes once more, attempting to rest.

Fifteen minutes later, you were about to fall completely asleep. That is, until you felt yourself being moved again.

Your lover ever so carefully moved you off of him, retreating to the restroom once more. You groaned and opened your eyes. “Kaeya?”

“I fr-go- bru-h- eef-“ the distorted response was undoubtedly from a toothbrush in his mouth.. you couldn’t help but chuckle a bit at him as you waited for him to return.

And as he had done previously, Kaeya returned to bed and settled down with a content sigh.

Perfect, now the two of you can-

“Wait,” your boyfriend groaned. “Light.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile. “Go.”

Finally, the light was off, and Kaeya was in bed. You curled up against his chest and sighed with a smile. “Goodnight, love, ” you hummed as you closed your eyes.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he replied, kissing your forehead.

After two minutes, you felt Kaeya squirming again. Though, he didn’t move a muscle, despite the uncontrollable squirming.

“…Darling?” he asked softly.

Barbatos give you strength…

“Yes, my love?”

“I gotta pee.”

Kaveh: The Acrobat

The room was silent, albeit the gentle hum of a ceiling fan. You felt your consciousness leaving you slowly, and you were close to falling asleep…

Until you were accidentally smacked across the forehead by his hand.

While you were upset from being woken up, you couldn’t help but chuckle as you picked up his wrist to move it from your forehead. You planted a gentle kiss on the back of his hand and placed it down on your cheek.

You could’ve sworn you saw Kaveh’s lips curl upward at the gentle kiss, but it was short lived as he suddenly flipped over onto his other side.

You smacked face-down onto the mattress, barely registering what had happened. You groaned and slowly picked yourself up, rubbing your sore nose. When your eyes landed on the unmoving body of your boyfriend, you rolled your eyes and turned away from him.

You figured there was no sense in attempting to cuddle with him when he was moving so much. You closed your eyes and attempted to fall back asleep. After about five minutes, your eyes got very heavy, and you were near falling asleep.

However, sudden rustling from the other side of the bed made you alert. Before you could register what had happened, you were being pulled back into Kaveh’s arms.

You squeaked but ultimately relaxed, turning around to kiss him on his lips. You both smiled and you rested your head in the crook of his neck.

Finally the two of you were almost both asleep. You could barely keep your eyes open, and were seconds away from falling a totally asleep.

And then, it happened.

And boy did it happen suddenly.

Within seconds, you landed smack-dab on the hardwood floor, having been accidentally kicked in the back.

“AGH- KAVEH!” You yelped, rubbing your sore bottom.

Your boyfriend awoke with a start, looking around frantically. “Honey?! Where are you, what’s the matter?”

You groaned and clawed your way back on the bed, “Nothing… Nothing is the matter,” you replied curtly.

“A-Are you sure? Why were you on the f-“

“I am ten seconds away from taping your limbs to this bed, that’s why,” you spat. You sighed and fell forward onto his chest, wrapping your arms around him. “If you kick me off the bed again, I’m sleeping on the couch, capische?”

Kaveh only nodded fearfully as he kissed the top of your head.

Itto: The Loose Cannon

You sure did love your darling boyfriend. Life with him was never dull, and nights were… well, interesting to stay the least. He would always get so much more energized during the night, simply bouncing off of the walls.

Well, tonight marked your first sleepover, so he opted for eating spicy ramen with you and watching movies. Halfway through the film, your boyfriend excused himself to the restroom, proudly announcing that he had a battle to fight.

You rolled your eyes. You couldn’t help but smile at the stupid codeword.

By the time he returned, the movie was done, and you were drifting off on the couch. Your eyes flutter open as you smile at him. “Everything come out okay?” You teased.

Itto merely laughed, scooping you up. “Yeah, yeah. It’s beddy time now. Now, come on! Let this big strong oni keep you company!”

You allowed Itto to carry you to his bed, wrapping your arms around him. And that is how you ended up where you are now… caged in his giant arms as he squirms uncomfortably behind you.

“Itto…?” you asked softly. “Is everything-“

“Yeah! Yeah I’m great… just uh…” he trailed off. “Nope! I’m good!”

You sigh, back settling down against his chest, you felt him squirming still, frowning gently. Well, you had to trust your boyfriend. If he said he was okay, you had to believe that-

Your chain of thoughts was interrupted by an almost cartoony-sounding toot echoing in the room. Your eyes snap open, and you push away from your boyfriend, looking at him with disbelief. “Did you-“

“No!”

You begin to giggle. “Oh gods- okay-“ You chuckled despite the smell now filling your nose. Once it subsided, you returned to his arms with a sigh. “Feeling better now?”

Itto nodded against your head, planting a gentle kiss too. He returned to lying comfortably, his own eyes closing along with yours. The two of you are almost asleep when you hear the noise again…

“Itto!” you whined, scooting away from him. “Not again!”

“I’m sorry! It was that ramen, I swear!” The oni whined.

“Well try harder!”

“I can’t help it!”

You groaned loudly and rolled your eyes before returning to cuddle him again. You sighed, damn near falling asleep.

And yet again, that pungent smell filled your nostrils…

“Oh my gods- ITTO!” You yelped, turning away and pinching your nose. “Stoppit!”

Before he could reply, he stood up quickly from the bed, retreating to the bathroom with a hasty shut of the door.

It’s been twenty minutes… no signs of organic life from the bathroom.

You sigh and roll over.

Kazuha: The Apologist

Kazuha led you to his bedroom by your hand, gesturing for you to get comfortable. You obliged immediately, snuggling into the soft sheets. When you looked back at him, he looked sheepish. “Are you okay, dove? I can sleep on the couch if it’s too awkward-“

“No, no! I apologize… I didn’t intend to make you think something was wrong, I’m just-“ he sighed, looking away. “Do you think… would you be willing to hold onto me as I typically do you?”

You smiled at him softly, holding your arms out. Your lover smiled back at you and instantly settled down in your arms. He sighed in satisfaction as he felt your arms cage around him. As his body relaxed—and boy did it do so fast—a soft ‘oof’ left you. Kazuha immediately lifted his head. “I’m sorry, love. Did I startle you?”

You chuckled again. “No, Kaz’. Just wasn’t expecting it.” You gently rubbed soothing circles on his back, and you felt all of his worries melt away.

Things were going well. The atmosphere was quiet and peaceful. You felt yourself growing tired, but you were soon interrupted by Kazuha reaching up to itch his nose. “M’sorry,” he murmured.

“No need to apologize, my dear…” you gently kissed the top of his head.

More peaceful minutes passed until his leg randomly spasmed, causing you to startle again. “I-I’m sor-“

“Kazuha, honey,” you soothed, “it’s okay. You don’t need to keep apologizing for things you can’t control.”

“Okay, I’m so-“

You gently poked his side to state your point. He startled with a small squeak. Afterward, you gently ran your fingers through his hair, removing it from the ponytail and untangling it. He hummed in satisfaction, relaxing into your arms once more and closing his eyes.

It was a wonderful experience. Your lover finally passed out in your arms and slept for a good hour. As you eventually felt yourself growing more tired, you were startled awake when Kazuha shook violently in your arms with a gasp. He woke up panting, throwing his arms around your neck.

You sat up immediately, coddling him. Your hand returned to his back as you whispered in his ear. “It’s okay, love… I’m right here… I’m here…”

He trembled in your arms, holding you impossibly closer. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he repeated, his voice shaking.

“Hey, hey… sweetheart it’s nothing to apologize about. I’ve got you,” you gently hummed, kissing the top of his head. “I’m right here.”

“These nightmares still plague me… I’m so sorry (Y/N)… I must’ve frightened you.”

“I’m okay, love,” you reassured him.

Kazuha hesitantly settled back in your arms, feeling utterly blissful from the gentle rubbing on his back. He slumped down against you once more, sighing gently as his breaths gently puffed against your neck.

After a while, you both were absolutely exhausted. Kazuha was the one who was still awake as you finally drifted off to sleep. He lay peacefully, listening to your heartbeat slow and slow.

As he was about to fall asleep… his tummy growled loudly, waking you immediately.

“I’m sorry…”

Diluc: The Furnace

You smiled as you felt Diluc’s strong arms cage around you. His hand immediately found refuge in your hair, gently scratching your scalp and sending chills down your spine.

He continued his actions for a while, and you seemed to in a blissful daze. Little hums of satisfaction left you as well as tiny gasps every so often. Your lover merely grinned, taking solace in knowing he was making you feel relaxed.

You were close to falling asleep when you suddenly felt extremely warm. You start gently panting as you swallow a few times.

“Love? Are you alright?” He asked you in a concerned voice, sitting up.

“Yes, of course,” you hummed in response. You reach over him onto the night stand, grabbing the water he always kept there and positively chugging it. “I think I was just a bit thirsty.”

Diluc chuckled as you lay back down. His hand found itself rubbing gentle circles on your back, the warmth traveling from your shoulders down to your hips. It was soothing, and his hand was wonderfully warm.

After a while, he got the idea to press his hand against your bare skin, having snaked it under the large shirt he had given you.

You shivered from the sudden change in temperature, but Diluc continued anyways. He looked down on you lovingly as he saw you relaxing in his hold.

Your lover let his head fall back against the pillow, and he gently closed his eyes. He was near falling asleep when he felt you peel yourself away to grab more of the water.

“(Y/N)?”

You sigh between gulps of water, almost like a toddler drinking some after being outside all day. You put the cup down with a sigh before slumping back on him. “Archons, I must just be dehydrated. Nothing more,” you quickly reassured him.

You settled back into his arms, exhaling as you felt heat engulf your body again. You narrow your eyes in confusion and annoyance.

What could be wrong?

You were watered, fed, and calm. What could possibly be-

As Diluc’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you impossibly closer, it dawned on you: Diluc ran warm.

You tried to ignore it, but the temperature continued to overwhelm you. You gently pushed away from your lover, hoping to get a second of relief from the blistering heat.

Your boyfriend opened his eyes and frowned, noticing your movements. “Darling?” His voice was laced with concerned as his palm traveled up and down your torso. “You’re drenched in sweat, is everything okay?”

You closed your eyes and exhaled. “Just peachy.”

“Are you sure?”

You sighed. “You’re very warm.”

He chuckled, allowing you to crawl out of his arms. When you settled down to his right, his left came out to interlock your pinkies.

Despite just being denied the gift of cuddling you in his arms, Diluc still insisted for you two to be touching…

—————♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎—————

[foreverisntenough]

‘Act II’

Summary: Attraction is like a gravitational pull that is undefinable and unavoidable. Unbeknownst to you, Jude had been keeping an eye on you since he caught a glimpse on his best friend’s girlfriend’s Instagram but he’s been loving his single life. You always were independent and know how to swim on your own but maybe you have been just treading water. Could the tides change on a holiday in Greece when you finally meet? It might get a little rocky but maybe you could be his paradise.

Index

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series! ‘Act II’ is interconnected to the 'You’re Mine' and 'Ours' Series but can read it independently.

Chapter 7 - Madrid or Manhattan | ‘Act II’

word count - 11.2k

The following day, you couldn’t take the distance or the unknown any longer. That night had been a blur of bad decisions and misplaced anger, and now, with a mildly more clear head, you knew what you had to do. You needed to see Jude, to confront him, to figure out where you two stood. The thought of him with someone else, or worse, of him moving on from you, was unbearable. You had to know if there was anything left to salvage. You had acted out and you’d need to fix this or put it to bed. Once again, in a last ditch effort, without hesitation, you booked a flight back to Madrid, your heart racing as you imagined what might happen when you saw Jude again. If he had done it again—if he had been with someone else since your last conversation—you knew you would have to walk away for good. But deep down, you hoped that wasn’t the case. You hoped that Jude had been as miserable as you had, that he had spent every moment thinking of you. You didn’t tell him you were coming, you wanted him to not know in case he was with someone else. That’d be it for you. You were racking up flight miles. The environment was screaming at you but you took another flight anyway. When you arrived at Jude’s house, your nerves were frayed, your emotions teetering on the edge. The lack of sleep catching up to you. You didn’t bother with the formalities this time, just knocked on the door and waited, your heart pounding in your chest. When Jude opened the door, his surprise was evident, but there was something else in his eyes too—relief.

“Y/N,” he breathed, his voice a mix of surprise and something that sounded like hope. “You’re here.” Jude felt his heart beat slow down to a point where he wasn’t sure if you were really there or if he was imagining things.

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice wavering slightly. “I’m here.” You stood there for a moment, neither of you knowing what to say, until Jude stepped aside to let you in. The air between you was thick with unspoken words, the weight of everything that had happened pressing down on you.

“Looked like you’d been having fun lately. Saw the posts,” Jude admitted as you sat down on the same sage green couch that used to be a place of comfort until your relationship or whatever with him was shattered in a moment by him, the tension palpable. He didn’t mean to sound so passive and short but he was hurt. “I know what you were doing. And I hated every second of it.” You winced hearing him call you out layered with a bit of anger of your own too.

“Having fun?” Your eyes narrowed on him, annoyed he said that. “Whatever. That was the point,” you replied, not unkindly, but with a bitterness that lingered in your voice. “I was angry, Jude. I didn’t know how else to make you understand how much you hurt me.” And when you told Jude that you had slept with someone to spite him for doing the same, it hit him harder than he expected.

“I know I messed up,” Jude said, his voice thick with regret, tears building on his waterline. “I haven’t done anything but think about you since you left. I was so stupid, so insecure, and I let it get the best of me. But I haven’t been with anyone else, Y/N. I swear.” Jude took a deep breath. You studied his face, searching for any sign that he was lying, but all you saw was the same regret and pain you had been carrying. The anger you had been holding onto started to crumble, replaced by a deep, aching sadness.

“I have though…” You cried. A sight Jude hadn’t expected. He knew you were upset but he put it down to anger but sadness, a broken heart, he could barely look at you. He felt more sick than before knowing that he made you feel this way. He knew. You tried to take a deep breath but you were shaking. He knew you well enough to know how you’d respond to him hooking up with someone else. The divide between you was so vast you weren’t sure you’d ever be able to build a bridge. The jealousy and hurt twisted in his gut as he realized that the thought of you with anyone else was unbearable. To know you were in someone else’s bed made him sick. It had been building since he slept with another girl but as he heard it roll off your tongue, that was the moment Jude understood that what he felt for you went far beyond just liking you—he was in love with you. The idea of losing you, the girl he had uncontrollably and unintentionally fell in love with made him feel physically ill, bringing all his buried emotions to the surface. You sat on the edge of the couch as emotions flooded you once over, your face buried in your hands as you cried softly. The weight of everything that had happened between you two felt unbearable, like it was crushing you from the inside out. Jude stood up in front of you, his face loosing color and filled with a mixture of hurt and helplessness. He hadn’t said much since you admitted it—admitted that you’d slept with someone after you found out about him and the other girl. You hated it. Hated that you had hurt him, hated that you had hurt yourself in the process. But more than anything, you hated how much you still cared about him, how much you wanted him even now. “I don’t understand,” you choked out through your tears, your voice breaking. “I don’t understand why I like you so much, even after everything. I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t feel this way, but I do.”

“Hey,” he whispered, his voice soft but strained. “It’s okay. I know you’re hurting.” Jude knelt down in front of you, his hands gently cupping your face, his thumb brushing away your tears.

“I don’t want to be hurting!” you snapped, the frustration boiling over. “I hate this. I hate that I like you so much, Jude. I hate that even when I try to move on, you’re all I think about. You’re the only thing I’ve thought about since I left here. Just you all fucking day. I’ve done nothing else.” You whined. Jude winced, clearly pained by your words, but he didn’t pull away. He wasn’t sure how he felt that you were so distraught over the idea of liking and thinking of him the way you were.

“I know,” he said quietly. “I know it hurts. But you’re not alone. I feel the same.” He just stayed there, holding your face in his hands, his eyes searching yours. You shook your head, the tears coming harder now.

“But you don’t. You don’t know how much it hurts. You slept with someone else, I slept with someone else… How are we supposed to come back from that?” You cried. Jude took a deep breath, his hands dropping to your shoulders, steadying you.

“Because none of that matters to me anymore. What matters is that you’re here, with me. And I don’t want you to leave.” Jude hummed, holding onto you firmly. He leaned forward resting his forehead against yours, taking a deep breath.

“What are you saying?” You blinked at him, your heart aching at his words. Jude knew he should tell you why. Tell you how he really felt but those words couldn’t come out.

“I’m saying… I need you,” Jude whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. “I don’t know how to explain it, but I feel like I can’t do this without you. I don’t want to do this without you. You’re the only person who makes me feel like… like everything’s going to be okay. Even when it’s not.” He took another deep breath. Your chest tightened at his confession, and despite all the hurt, all the mistakes, a part of you wanted to believe him. A part of you needed to believe him. “Stay,” he said softly, his eyes pleading. “Stay in Madrid with me. With me tonight, whenever you want. Please. We’re both hurting, I know that. But you’re the only one who makes me feel better. Holding you is the only thing that’s going to make it better.” Jude thought he might start crying so he let his eyelids flutter close.

“What if it happens again, Jude? What if we hurt each other all over again?” You looked away, your heart racing, the fear creeping in.

“I don’t want to hurt you anymore. I swear. I just… I just want you. I need you.” He shook his head, his grip on you tightening. You felt yourself breaking down, the tears flowing again as you leaned into him. Jude wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest, holding you as if he was afraid to let go.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you whispered. You clung to him, your sobs muffled against his shirt.

“You can,” Jude murmured into your hair. “I know you can. I know we can.” You stayed like that, wrapped in each other, both of you hurting but unwilling to let go. It wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t even close, but in that moment, the only thing that mattered was that you were together. You didn’t know what the future held, or if you could ever truly move past the pain, but you knew one thing for sure: you weren’t ready to walk away. Not yet.

“I was so scared, Jude,” you whispered, your voice breaking as the tears spilled over again. “I didn’t want to fall for you because I knew this would happen. I knew I’d get hurt. I knew this would happen.” You pouted with a quivering bottom lip.

“I’m so sorry, angel,” he murmured into your hair, his voice thick with emotion. Jude reached for you, pulling you into his arms, the tears soaking into his shirt. He held you close, his heart breaking as he felt just how deeply he had wounded you. “I never wanted to hurt you. I just… I didn’t know how to handle what I was feeling. But I want to make this right. I want you here, with me. I don’t want to lose you.” He whispered. You clung to him, the floodgates unable to close as you let out all the pain and fear you had been carrying. In that moment, in Jude’s arms, you felt a flicker of hope maybe you’d be able to rebuild what had been broken.

“I want to stay,” you whispered, your voice trembling with both fear and hope. “But I’m scared, Jude. I’m too scared of getting hurt again. You really hurt me.” You cried.

“I know,” he said softly. Jude held you tighter, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “But I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. We’ll figure this out together, I promise.” And for the first time since you fled Madrid, you let yourself believe that you could. You went to sleep in Jude’s room that night in an intense silence. The air was thick with tension, as if every unspoken word, every bottled emotion had made the room smaller, tighter, almost suffocating. You had come all this way to see if there was anything left to salvage between you and Jude, but now, lying next to him in bed, you weren’t sure. The silence between you was intense, almost unbearable, but the thought of letting go was more painful. His arms were wrapped around you, and you couldn’t tell where his body ended and yours began. You weren’t sure if it was humanly possible to be as close as you two were in his bed. Despite the space you tried to keep between your minds and hearts, your bodies refused to acknowledge it. It wasn’t the same as before though. There were no whispered kisses or soft laughter. This wasn’t passion, it was desperation—an instinctual need to be close, to hold on to the only thing that felt familiar in a world that was quickly unraveling. You both stayed still for a long time, as if moving or speaking would shatter whatever fragile thing was keeping you together. The warmth of his chest against your back was the only thing grounding you, and yet it felt distant, too. Occasionally, you could feel him shift, his breath shaky, a small sniffle escaping him. In the quiet, you realized he was crying too, though he tried to hide it, just like you were. Tears silently streamed down your face, soaking into the pillow beneath you and you were pretty sure some of them would drip onto his arm. You didn’t even bother wiping them away. You weren’t sure if he could feel them, or if he already knew, but part of you hoped he did. Maybe it would save you the trouble of trying to explain the heartbreak clawing at your chest. Every breath felt heavy, every second drawn out, weighted by the regret hanging between you. The things you hadn’t said. The feelings you hadn’t admitted. The mistakes you both made that had led you here—together but impossibly apart. The words ‘I love you’ hovered unspoken in the room, almost too big to say aloud, but they screamed in your mind. If you said them now, would it fix things? Or would it make them worse? You weren’t sure. There were moments where you thought you felt Jude shift closer, as if he was trying to gather the courage to say something, but he never did. The silence remained, only occasionally broken by your mutual sniffles or the rustle of sheets. You wanted to scream, to shake him, to demand he say something, anything, but instead, you just lay there, clinging to him as if letting go would break you entirely. Hours passed, but sleep didn’t come. How could it, with so much between you that still needed to be said? The weight of it all pressed down on you, making it hard to breathe, hard to think clearly. But even then, even through the pain and confusion, you couldn’t imagine being anywhere else but here, in this bed, with him. You didn’t know what the morning would bring—if you would still be holding each other or if the final goodbye was waiting on the other side of this silence—but for now, this was all you had. And even though it hurt, even though it felt like it might break you both, neither of you could let go.

That morning it was tense but Jude thought that if you flew here you must have craved the same thing he did. You wanted to close this distance. The morning air in Madrid was still cool, the early sun spilling into the room like a quiet reminder of everything left unsaid. You stood in the en-suite, your hands gripping the edge of the sink as you brushed your teeth, staring blankly at your reflection. It wasn’t just the exhaustion from travel, or even the tension that clung to the air like a suffocating fog—it was everything. Every decision, every misstep, and most of all, the pain that weighed down your chest like a heavy stone. When you finished, you walked back into the bedroom, the tension palpable in the silence between you and Jude. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, fiddling with his phone, his jaw set in a way that told you he was thinking too hard about what to say.

“Do you want breakfast?” Without looking up, he finally broke the silence, his voice quiet and almost too casual. It was an olive branch, awkward and uncertain, but it was something. You nodded, still feeling the weight of everything between you both as you glanced toward the balcony. The doors were open now, letting the morning breeze drift through. Jude had laid out breakfast on the small table outside—nothing too grand, just simple plates and chairs, but it was thoughtful. In that moment, despite everything, it was exactly what you needed.You stepped outside, the brightness of the Madrid sun almost blinding, and you gave Jude a sad smile. He followed, his movements slower, more deliberate, as if he was trying to figure out how to navigate the space between you. The small table sat between you both now, but it wasn’t the table or the breakfast that mattered—it was the unspoken words, the ghosts of last night, and the quiet ache that lingered in both of your hearts. You took a deep breath, the knot in your chest tightening as you realized you couldn’t dance around it any longer. You couldn’t pretend like it hadn’t happened, like you hadn’t both crossed a line you swore you wouldn’t. The words caught in your throat, but you forced them out, your voice soft and shaky.

“Jude,” you started, glancing down at the table before meeting his eyes. “I made a mistake. I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have done what I did, but all it’s done is made me realize—” Your voice cracked slightly, but you pushed forward. “There’s no one like you. No one.” The admission hung in the air between you both, heavy with meaning. Jude’s expression softened, but the pain was still there, written all over his face. He looked down at the table, then back at you, his jaw tightening as if he was trying to hold something back.

“I feel the same,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “What I did… I regret it. I wish I could take it back. I thought… I thought it would make it easier to forget everything, to just push it away. But it didn’t. It just made everything worse. Because it’s you—there’s no one else that’s you.” The honesty in his words hit you like a wave, but it didn’t wash away the hurt. The pain still lingered, heavy and raw, between you both. You nodded slowly, your throat tightening with the threat of tears, but you blinked them back. This wasn’t the time for tears. This was about trying to move forward, even if you didn’t know how. You looked at him, the sunlight casting soft shadows over his face, and you felt the weight of your heart in your chest.

“I think… I might be falling for you, Jude. And you don’t have to say anything back because this I know it’s probably stupid. It scares the hell out of me as well so….” You whispered. He didn’t move for a moment, his eyes searching yours as if he was trying to find the right words, to make sure you really meant yours. Then, slowly, he reached across the table, his fingers brushing against yours. The touch was tentative, but it was enough to ground you, to remind you that, despite everything, you were both still here.

“I’m falling for you too,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “And I’m so so sorry. I’m so sorry for hurting you.” The pain still lingered, gnawing at the edges of your heart, but for the first time in what felt like forever, there was a small flicker of hope. You both sat there, in the bright Madrid sun, the weight of your mistakes still heavy, but the possibility of something more—something real—finally starting to take shape. You weren’t sure if you could fully move past what had happened, but in that moment, with Jude’s hand resting on yours, you knew you couldn’t walk away either. Not yet. Not when there was still so much left to say, so much left to feel. The road ahead was uncertain, but for now, you had each other. And that, at least, was a start. Jude stood up from his chair, his eyes locked onto yours with a mix of regret and something deeper, something more raw. Breakfast was forgotten in an instant, the food sitting untouched as he closed the small space between you. “Come here,” he whispered, his voice soft but commanding, and before you could even think, he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against him. The warmth of his embrace was immediate, and despite everything that had happened, despite the pain, you melted into him. He swayed gently, the movement slow and comforting, as the Madrid sun drenched you both in its golden light. The air was thick with the scent of the morning and the faint sounds of the city below, but up here, in this moment, it was just the two of you. Nothing else mattered. You had told yourself there wasn’t time for tears, that crying wouldn’t help anything—but the moment his arms wrapped around you, it all came crashing down. You couldn’t hold back anymore. The tears started to fall, first in quiet, controlled sobs, but soon, they were unstoppable. Your face pressed into his chest, your fingers clutching his shirt as if letting go wasn’t an option. Jude felt the shift, the way your body shook with the weight of your tears, and he tightened his hold on you, pressing a kiss into your hair. “I’m here,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, “I’m here… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He kept repeating it, over and over, the words flowing out of him like a mantra, as if saying it enough times might somehow erase the pain. But it wasn’t just about the apology—it was the way he held you, the way he swayed with you in his arms, as if you were the most fragile thing in the world, and he needed to keep you safe. Neither of you wanted to let go, neither of you could. The tears kept coming, your body trembling against him, but Jude didn’t move. He didn’t pull away, didn’t try to comfort you with empty words. He just held you, letting the weight of the moment sink in. You stayed like that for what felt like ages, swaying back and forth in the sunlight, the world around you fading into the background. Finally, your sobs began to quiet, though the tears still flowed. You buried your face deeper into his chest, his heartbeat steady against your ear, grounding you in a way nothing else could. His hand stroked your back, slow and gentle, like he was trying to soothe the ache that had settled between you both. It wasn’t a moment of resolution, but it was something. A step. And as you stood there, wrapped in his embrace, you realized that despite everything, neither of you were ready to let go. Not of each other, not of the possibility of what you could still be. And for now, that was enough.

The atmosphere between you and Jude was tense at a bar. Despite the emotional reconciliation, Jude seemed to just move on after that. He was sweet to you of course but it kind of bothered you that he was acting as if everything was just as before. Just as before where Jude was primary, you were in secondary when it came to life in Madrid. Just as before where clarification about your relationship wasn’t needed. Jude could talk to the girls who wanted a photo but the second you took a step closer to lean over the bar towards the male bartender Jude’s eyes lit with fear and unfortunately a bit of possessiveness and annoyance. The feeling of your indiscretions still weighing on you both. The neon lights flickered outside, casting colorful shadows on the cobblestone streets of Madrid. Inside, the music was loud, the energy high, and the crowd lively—a perfect distraction from the lingering tension simmering between you. You didn’t like to be told what to do and even though it wasn’t being vocalized you were determined to prove a point tonight, that Jude couldn’t. Jude wasn’t the only one who could command attention, and you were tired of feeling like he was the one in control of this relationship. You’d now flown across the Atlantic Ocean for him twice now and yet there was still no clarification on what you were to him. If he wanted you to act like you were his, he’d have to tell you you were not just assume it. You knew people noticed you, but Jude had a way of overshadowing everything, making you feel like just another part of his world. Tonight, you wanted to remind him that you weren’t just an accessory on his arm. You were not like all those who had bowed down to him before. As you settled into a corner of the bar, Jude’s friend Aurelien had joined you, his usual easygoing charm on full display. Aurelien was one of the few people in Jude’s circle that you genuinely felt like you got on with and you knew he liked you. He was funny, handsome, smart, and—most importantly—he didn’t treat you like you were just Jude’s girl. You both spoke French, and tonight, you decided to use it to your advantage. The night had started innocently enough—but as the drinks flowed and inhibitions lowered. Flirting had always been second nature to you, and tonight was no exception.

“Salut, Aurel, ça fait longtemps,” [Hi, Aurel, it’s been a long time!] you said, your voice lilting as you slipped effortlessly into your shared language. You leaned in close to Aurelien, your lips curving into a playful smile as you greeted him in French.

“Ça va, YN? Toujours aussi belle,” [Are you okay, Y/N? Still so beautiful,] Aurelien replied, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he responded in kind. You exchanged pleasantries, your conversation light and easy, but with an undercurrent that was meant to get under Jude’s skin. And it worked. Jude watched you, his jaw tightening as he struggled to follow the rapid exchange. He didn’t know enough French to follow and the pace you and Aurelien were speaking at made it even harder to keep up. He didn’t like being left out. It felt deliberate, and it stoked the jealousy that had already been smoldering since the Instagram stories. You could feel Jude’s gaze on you, but you didn’t stop. You laughed at something Aurelien said, a light, airy sound that made Jude’s chest tighten. He knew what you were doing, and it drove him crazy. He wasn’t used to feeling this way—possessive, insecure, like he was the one who had to fight for your attention but he had been feeling it essentially since you met. It made him realize just how much he cared, how deeply he was already in. Seeing this in person made things brutally more painful than seeing it on his phone’s screen.

“Enough,” Jude said, his voice low and tense, leaving no room for argument. After a while, Jude wasn’t able to take it anymore. “We’re going home, yeah?.” He reached out, gently but firmly wrapping his hand around your waist, pulling your attention away from Aurelien.

“Already?” you asked, feigning innocence as you met his gaze. “But we’re having such a good time.” You looked at him, surprised by the intensity in his eyes. You knew you had pushed him, but you hadn’t expected this reaction.

“Now, Y/N,” Jude insisted, his grip on your wrist tightening just enough to make his point clear.

“Bonne nuit ma belle.” [Good night, beautiful.] Aurelien looked between you, sensing the tension. He offered you a sympathetic smile, but didn’t interfere. “Jude, hablaré contigo mañana.” [Jude, I'll talk to you tomorrow.] He gave you both a small wave before turning back to the bar. The car ride home was silent, the air between you thick with unspoken words. You could feel the tension radiating off him, but you didn’t back down. You had wanted to make a point, and it seemed like it had worked. As soon as you were inside, Jude turned to face you, his eyes dark with a mix of emotions— jealousy but most of all, desire. The second you both stumbled through the door, the click of the lock barely audible over the tension, Jude's hands were on you-possessive and insistent.

“Why do you have to do this angel? Why won’t you just be a good girl?” He demanded, his voice rough as he tried to keep his devious smirk at bay. You knew he was gaslighting you. God were you embarrassingly turned on though. The intensity in his words took you by surprise.

“You did it first.” You quipped trying to not cave too easily. You crossed your arms over your chest, meeting his gaze defiantly. “Why is it okay for people to fawn over you, but not for me?” you shot back. “You’re not the only one who can turn heads, Jude. I’m not just some accessory to your life.” You explained a bit more seriously than both you and Jude were expecting. He took a step closer, his worry now surpassing his lust.

“I know you’re not,” he said, his voice going soft with emotion. “But you’re mine, Y/N. I don’t want to see you with anyone else. I can’t stand the thought of it. Do you understand that? Not in Manhattan, not in Madrid, not anywhere in the world.” He explained to you, Jude's voice was low and dangerous. Suddenly as you glanced down and saw his pants beginning to tent and you smiled greedily. “Nah, if you wanted my cock so bad all you had to do was ask, angel. I'd fly anywhere in the world for this pussy.” Jude hand slowly came and gripped around your neck. At first it was gentle but then he squeezed taking your breath away. He gave you a smirk that made your pussy throb. His brown eyes smoldering with possessiveness. Jude's hands were on you-insistent. Jude wasted no time after that, pushing you against the door, his body caging you in. "You like to play with fire, don't you, baby?" he murmured, his warm breath fanning your neck. "Flirting with Aurelien right under my nose. You know no one turns you on the way I can though, isn’t that right?" He had you trapped you between the cool surface and the overwhelming heat of him. His lips found yours in a messy, hungry kiss, like he had been waiting all night for this moment, like every touch outside the door was just a tease for what was coming. Your head spun, not just from the alcohol, but from the intensity of his grip on your hips, his fingers digging into your skin like he couldn't get close enough. His kisses were fiery, desperate, as his lips trailed down your neck, igniting your skin wherever they touched. You gasped as his mouth grazed your collarbone, your hands instinctively gripping his hair, pulling him even closer. "You're just f’me," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. “You know you’re just a whore for me.” His hands roamed your body with a mixture of tenderness and urgency, fingers tracing the curve of your waist before slipping under the hem of your top. The friction between your bodies was electric, every movement charged with desire. Your heart raced, pounding in your chest as his lips found yours again, more demanding this time, as though he couldn't stand the distance between you any longer. He had you pinned against the door, you could feel his need, his possessiveness, like he was marking you with every touch, every kiss. The world outside didn't exist anymore-just you and him, lost in each other.

"J-Jude, I didn't mean..." You melted into his hold, completely consumed by the heat of the moment, his touch searing into your skin like fire. You gasped as his hands moved to slid up your thigh, lifting your skirt. Your clothes were just disappearing second by second.

"Shh..." He silenced you with a finger on your lips. "You don't need to explain. I understand what you want, Y/N. You just wanted my attention." He patronized you in the hottest way and even though you knew you should hate him for it it had you desperate for him. His hands reached for the waistband of your panties, slowly sliding them down your legs. You trembled as he exposed your wetness, your body betraying your guilt. "You're so wet, baby. Do you know why?" Jude's voice was a low purr, his fingers teasing your sensitive folds.

"N-no," you whispered, your voice hoarse with desire.

"Because you wanted my attention and now that you’ve got it, you’re excited for me to punish you for being a whore tonight. And you’re gonna love it because you only get to be like this f’me, hmm?" With that, he delivered a sharp smack to your exposed ass, making you cry out.

"Fuck! Jude, please..." You squirmed against the door, your body already responding to his dominance. You moved your hips towards him, his fingers dragging through your fold and then pushing deep inside you. One of his massive hands gripping your ass then the other taking his thumb sliding it from your entrance to your clit. The base of his fingers and knuckles were wet with your slick sliding in and out of you as he simultaneously began to make tight circles on your clit.

"Please what, angel?" He landed another spank as he multitasked, leaving a stinging sensation on your skin. "Do you like being punished for flirting with my friends? Does it make you wet knowing I'm the only one who can touch you like this?"

"Yeah, please... more..." You couldn't deny the pleasure his words and actions were eliciting. Your head fell back, exposing your neck. His lips quick to find your neck, sucking on your sensitive skin. You bucked your hips up against his hand as he moved his fingers in and out of you, his thumb still working your clit.

"That's my good girl. You know who you belong to. I'm going to remind you just how much you're mine. Remind you of the way only I can make you feel." Jude chuckled, the sound sending a thrill through your body. You felt his free hand roam over your body, claiming every inch of you. His fingers pinched your nipples through the lace of your bra, eliciting a moan from your lips. "That's it, let me hear your sweet voice," he encouraged, his breath hot against your ear. "Tell me how much you want my cock." You knew your climax had been rapidly approaching and then he snatched it away. You gasped with a whine. Jude was in control tonight and he was making sure you knew that.

"I want it your cock, Jude, please!” You pleaded, your words fueled by the building desire. Your hand trailed down to the front of his boxers, cupping his length. He groaned into your mouth as you kissed him. You squeezed lightly, feeling the precum soaking through the thin material. His cock twitched under your hand as you rubbed him through his boxers. You slowly began to kiss down Jude’s body.

“Fuck baby. You want to be a good girl now? Show me you know you’re just f’me.” Jude asked you feeling your lips above the waistband of his boxers. Never in your life had you gotten turned on by a man taking control of you, claiming you and yet Jude had you dripping. You took his cock out and greedily licked your lips at the thick length and the vein running along the side of it. You took his cock into your hand and pumped it slowly as you locked eyes with Jude, letting some of your spit drop down into it. Slowly you licked the vein from base all the way up till you wrapped your lips around the tip. Jude’s hands immediately found their way to the back of your head, grabbing your hair tight. You moaned around his length. Jude inhaled as you took more of him until he hit the back of your throat, he bit his lip watching you bop up and down on his cock. “You love having my cock in your mouth, angel, huh? Look so sexy like this.” he groaned. You moaned and the hum vibrated through him. You took him deeper picking up the pace, minute after minute flying by. “Baby…you’re gonna make me cum like this.” Jude groaned as you let him fuck your face. “You don’t want me to cum in your mouth though do you? I think you like it when I cum somewhere else, that right?” Jude breathily got through his words. You nodded as he cupped your chin and pulled you off him with a mischievous glint in his eyes. The sight of you with drool pooling in the corners of your mouth, tears on your lash line had him in a lustful haze. He roughly pulled you up and pressed his lips to yours.

"Please, fuck me. Remind me I’m yours." You begged him pulling away from the kiss. He wasted no time. He pulled his shirt over his head. Once his shirt was off, he picked you up, his hands sliding over the curve of your ass, down under it, and to the backs of your thighs, lifting you off the ground. He wrapped your legs around his waist, settling you there. He reached down and positioned himself at your entrance. Without direction you dragged Judes fingers up to your mouth taking two of them into your mouth. You moaned, wrapping your lips around his fingers as his length slowly filled you. He took his hand from your mouth both his hands palming your ass, pressing your back to the door in a fury.

"Oh my god, fuck.” you cried out as he entered you in one swift motion, filling you completely. Jude's hands gripped your hips, guiding your movements as he began to thrust.

“Mmm. That’s it. That’s the spot, huh?” He smugly smiled as he found your g spot in an instant. Your face scrunched, and jaw slacked with a nod confirming. “Feel so good, baby" He grunted, his breath ragged. "So tight and wet around my cock.” He groaned. Your body felt like it was on fire as you pushed your heel into his muscular back.

“Jude, I fucking love y… your cock.” You whined, almost catching yourself out as you bounced on his cock. You called out his name as he hit all the spots perfectly fit for him. The pace, the force, every stroke was everything you could ever want. You leaned in, your lips slamming into his again as he continued to pound into you.

“God, you love it like this, don’t you?” He growled moving his lips, kissing up your jaw to your ear before nippling on it, then grazing his teeth down your neck. Your pussy tightened around his cock. You were a mess as Jude guided your hips. You were barreling into an orgasm. Jude pushed you harder against the door letting one of his hands drop in between you two to find your clit. “That’s right. Cum f’me baby.” And with that your body convulsed as you came undone on Jude’s cock. The coil in your stomach snapped, the pressure sending Jude over the edge with you. Your orgasms hit you like waves, crashing over your bodies. Your nails dug into his muscular back as you rode the intense pleasure. Jude's grip on your hips tightened, holding you in place as he continued to thrust. Your bounces slowing down to a stop. His sweat-coated chest heaved as he lazily smiled at you with a look that you could describe as love.

"YN, I..." Jude's words turned into a growl as he emptied himself deep within you, his hot cum filling your core. As your bodies calmed, he pulled you close, his lips finding yours in a passionate kiss until he pulled away almost breathless. "I understand tonight…" he whispered against your mouth. Your bodies still buzzing from the intensity of it all. The air between you felt different—charged but also heavy with unspoken words. Jude looked down at you, his gaze soft but serious, the remnants of that fiery possessiveness from earlier still lingering in his eyes. His fingers traced gentle lines along your though, as though grounding himself in your presence. “But you know…” he began, his voice low and thoughtful, “I’m not blind to it. I know how everyone looks at you.” You turned your head slightly to meet his eyes, sensing there was more he needed to say. He exhaled, his hand pausing on your skin. “You’re so… God, you’re the most gorgeous girl in Madrid. In Manhattan, too. I see it in their faces—my friends, strangers, people at clubs. They all see what I see. And I know…” His voice wavered for a moment, the vulnerability seeping through, “I know how coveted you are. I know what it must feel like for them, knowing I’m the one who gets to be with you.” You blinked, taken aback by the rawness in his words. He wasn’t just talking about your looks—there was something deeper there, something that made your heart ache in the best possible way. Jude leaned in closer, his forehead resting lightly against yours. “But it’s not just that I get to sleep with the hottest girl in Madrid or Manhattan,” he continued softly, “I don’t take for granted that I’m the one who gets to know you. Like really know you, behind the glass; your fears, your dreams, the way your mind works, the things that make you laugh. No one else knows you like that. And I’m so fucking lucky you let me be that guy.” His admission hung between you, raw and real, and you felt your chest tighten with emotion. You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the way he looked at you like you were his world, his everything. “I don’t take any of this for granted,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Not for a second and I’ll never stop being grateful for that.” You swallowed hard, your throat tightening as your fingers instinctively reached for his, intertwining them with yours. It wasn’t just about the jealousy or the possessiveness—it was about the way he saw you, understood you, and cherished you in a way no one else ever had. You smiled softly, your heart full, knowing that despite everything—the flirting, the teasing—it all came back to this: the two of you, here, together, holding onto something that felt too precious to let slip away.

"Thank you. That means a lot to me.” You smiled, a little breathless, as you realized the depth of your submission to this man. The night's events had transformed into a powerful reminder of the intense connection you shared, leaving you both satisfied and utterly spent. This was a little fun though, no, Jude?” You giggled. He nodded very matter of factly. You headed upstairs drunk off a little bit of tequila still lingering and very drunk off him. You were slightly mortified he just fucked you in the foyer but it was late. It was morning essentially and that made it all the more risky.

“It’s okay.” He whispered in your ear reassuring you as he walked behind you, his arms wrapped around you as you carried half of your clothes upstairs in your hands. “You just can’t help yourself. No one can make you feel the way I can and you just were so horny for me. You couldn’t wait.”He kissed your bare shoulder.

“Oh my god! Shut up honestly.” You groaned through a quiet giggle. “You came home and were all over me because you are the most jealous man I’ve ever met. I spoke french to Aurelien for 5 minutes and you came home and you just couldn’t help yourself because no one can make you feel the way I can and you just were so horny for me.” You quipped reciting his words back to him. He kissed your hair and then rolled his eyes. “You couldn’t wait.” You kissed your teeth.

“Yeah yeah yeah. You got me but let’s face it we’re very good at fucking. It’d be a shame to waste such talent, hmm?” He kissed behind your ear. You shook your head as you entered his bedroom. Jude turned you around to face him, his hands framing your face as he looked into your eyes. “Y/N, jokes aside. I don’t want anyone else, and I don’t want you with anyone else, yeah?” Jude honestly told you. Your breath caught in your throat at the intensity of his words. For so long, you had been afraid to let yourself fall, afraid of getting hurt, but now, hearing Jude’s confession, you felt your own walls start to crumble. You nodded terrified agreeing to this all over again.

The weeks that followed your decision to stay in Madrid were filled with a rare kind of bliss. You and Jude had found a rhythm that felt effortless, your days punctuated by moments of quiet intimacy and your nights by passion that left you both breathless. It was easy to forget the outside world when it was just the two of you, cocooned in your own little bubble. But the bubble had to burst eventually, and it did with the arrival of Trent and Whitney. Whitney and Trent arrived in Madrid with an energy of excitement, and Denise warmly welcomed them into the house. After a quick chat downstairs, Denise mentioned that Jude was upstairs in the shower, you probably just in the room, and sent them up to put their luggage away in one of the guest rooms. As Trent carried the bags up, Whitney trailed behind him, admiring the home decor. When they reached the guest room, Trent placed the suitcases down and stretched. He wandered over to the large window, taking in the view of the rolling Spanish hills. But something else quickly caught his attention. From his vantage point, Trent could see directly onto the balcony connected to Jude's bedroom-and there, completely unaware of their audience, were you and Jude. Jude's hands were gripping your ass, your legs wrapped around his waist as he fucked into you. Kissing you deeply, the two of you lost in each other, the moment heated and intimate under the Spanish sun. The sound of music and the running shower from inside Jude's room clearly meant to mask the intensity of your connection from anyone nearby.

"Erm… Whit baby, this is one hell of a shower Jude is having." Trent blinked a few times, taken aback for a split second, and then burst out laughing. Barely able to contain himself, he waved her over. Whitney walked over, curious, and followed Trent's gaze.

"Oh my God!" she gasped, immediately reaching to cover Trent's eyes with a mix of shock and laughter. The second she saw what was happening, her eyes widened. "Don't look, T! Oh my God!"

"Hey, they're just... taking advantage of the view. It's their balcony." Trent just chuckled, shaking his head. Whitney, now laughing, peeked again and then sighed, still mortified but amused.

“Well, I guess that's why Y/N enjoys Madrid so much." She kept her hand over Trent's eyes, playfully scolding him, but neither could stop laughing. They both backed away from the window, sharing a knowing look. "Let's let them, uh... finish Jude's 'shower," Whitney said, still giggling. They left the guest room quietly, trying their best not to make any noise as they made their way back downstairs, barely able to contain their laughter at the unexpected scene they'd stumbled upon. Trent had a game against Atletico Madrid yesterday and Whitney decided to tag along and extend their stay. Both their visit and your reconciliation was the perfect excuse for a party. Jude’s sprawling villa in the hills outside Madrid ideal for the occasion—luxurious, private, and large enough to accommodate the guest list that had grown exponentially over the days leading up to the event. The night of the party, the house was transformed. Lights twinkled in the trees that lined the driveway, the pool was lit up in shades of blue, and music pulsed through the speakers around the expansive outdoor space. People had come in droves—teammates, moreover athletes in general, influencers, and socialites. The kind of crowd that made the party a must-attend event, even if you didn’t know the host personally. As the night wore on, the atmosphere grew more electric. The heat of the day had settled into a balmy evening, but the temperature inside the house was rising. Drinks were flowing, laughter echoed off the walls, and the music was loud enough to vibrate through the floors. It was the kind of party where everyone was vying for attention, where girls dressed to the nines tried to catch the eye of one of the many footballers in attendance. But Jude was oblivious to most of it. He stood off to the side, leaning against a column with a drink in hand, his eyes never straying far from you. You were talking with Whitney near the pool, your laugh carrying over the noise, and Jude felt a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with the alcohol. You were radiant tonight, your Ferragamo woven fringe mini dress perfectly draping off your body, your hair slicked back into a low bun exposing your bare back and patina Bottega drop earrings. He wasn’t the only one who noticed, either—he had seen more than a few guys look your way, their eyes lingering a little too long for his liking.

“Hell of a party, mate,” Trent said, coming over, clapping Jude on the back and pulling him out of his reverie, a wide grin on his face as he surveyed the scene. “Who knew you had a knack for this. Give Whit a run for her money. Don’t tell her I said that though.” Trent laughed. Jude followed with a chuckle, but his gaze was still fixed on you.

“Yeah, it’s something. But I really just had Y/N sort it,” he replied, though his mind was elsewhere. The atmosphere was warm, though slightly chaotic. After the rocky week you’d had, being surrounded by friends seemed like the perfect distraction but you were proving to be a distraction for him right now.

“They know how to throw a party, they know how to dress for one as well, hmm?” Trent remarked, nodding toward you and Whitney. He followed Jude’s line of sight and smirked. “Can’t say I blame you for being so distracted, I’m in the same boat.”

“She’s so amazing, bro. I really like having her here” he said, his tone more serious than he intended. “A lot more than I ever thought I would.” Jude tore his eyes away from you long enough to give Trent a look. Trent raised an eyebrow, but didn’t press.

“Yeah, mate, course,” he said, taking a sip of his drink. “Just don’t let her catch you brooding in the corner all night. Girls like her don’t like that.” Trent joked. He wasn’t really even sure what he meant but the sentiment stood. Jude didn’t need the reminder. He knew exactly how rare you were, and the thought of losing you—even in the smallest way—was enough to make him feel uneasy. But he wasn’t about to let his jealousy ruin the night, not when things had been so good between you. As if sensing his thoughts, you looked over at him, your eyes meeting his across the crowd. You gave him a smile, the kind that made his heart skip a beat, and excused yourself from Whitney to make your way over to him. Jude straightened up as you approached, his earlier tension melting away in your presence.

“Who knew the host was so handsome.” You giggled. “Enjoying the party?” you asked, your voice soft as you reached him, your hand lightly brushing against his arm.

“Not as much as I’m enjoying looking at you,” Jude replied, his lips curving into a smile as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “You’re the most beautiful thing here, you know that?”

“You always know what to say, don’t you?” you teased, though the compliment had clearly flustered you. You blushed, your eyes sparkling as you looked up at him.

“Only when it comes to you,” he said, his hand finding the small of your back, drawing you closer to him. Jude’s smile widened. For a moment, the noise of the party faded into the background, and it was just the two of you, wrapped up in each other. Jude could feel the familiar pull between you, the magnetic connection that made it impossible to stay away from you for long. He wasn’t sure what it was about you that had gotten so deep under his skin, but he knew he didn’t want it to end. “I’m glad you stayed, angel” he said softly, his voice barely audible over the music. “Thank you so much for coming back.” He sadly smiled.

“I’m glad I stayed too,” you replied, your hand coming up to rest on his chest. “And just so you know, you’re the only one I’m interested in tonight.” You looked up at him, your expression softening under his gaze. Jude felt a surge of relief at your words, the last remnants of his earlier jealousy fading away.

“Good,” he murmured, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. “Because you’re the only one I want.” He whispered and your heart fluttered. Jude’s house was alive with the sounds of music, laughter, and clinking glasses. Both of you dancing around the fragile reconciliation you both had recently achieved. But, despite the fun, the air held a lingering tension. The party was filled with faces you didn’t recognize, girls who clearly had no idea Jude was seeing anyone.

"Where’s Jude at?" One girl leaned in closer to ask Toby. As the evening progressed, a group of girls gathered near him, drinks in hand, casually glancing around the room.

"He’s with his missus." Without hesitation, Toby, always quick with a response, looked up from his drink, scanning the room.

"Wait, Jude Bellingham is seeing someone?" one of them asked, almost incredulously. “The Jude Bellingham?” The girl almost choked. The girls exchanged surprised glances, clearly caught off guard by the revelation. Toby nodded, eyes scanning the room until they landed on you and Jude. You’d retreated to the corner of Jude’s living room, away from the crowd. You were curled up together on a sofa now, Jude’s arm draped casually yet protectively around your shoulders, both of you wrapped up in quiet conversation. The soft glow of the lights made the scene look almost too intimate for the party’s bustling energy. From across the room, you caught the subtle shift in attention and noticed the group of girls whispering while throwing glances in your direction. Toby’s gaze followed, a smirk playing at his lips as if he knew something they didn’t.

"Maybe we should sit up or, I don’t know, tone it down? People are staring," you whispered, your voice laced with hesitation. Feeling the weight of the eyes on you, you shifted uncomfortably and turned to Jude. But Jude, caught up in the comfort of having you close, shook his head and tightened his grip on you.

“Let them look,” he said casually, brushing a kiss against your temple. "I don’t care what anyone thinks. All I care about is you." You tried to protest again, your self-consciousness rising, but Jude silenced you with a smile that left no room for doubt. He wasn’t hiding you, and for once, you weren’t a secret. Toby, seeing the whole scene unfold, raised his drink in a silent toast from across the room, acknowledging the quiet but significant shift in Jude but there was something almost taunting about it. It wasn’t just about you anymore—it was about you both, together. And whether or not the girls liked it, Jude wasn’t about to let you go and you were trying to read just what Toby thought about that.

As the night wore on, the party continued to buzz around you, the laughter and chatter of the guests creating a lively backdrop to the quieter, more intimate moments Jude and you were sharing. You hadn’t moved in hours. The couch you settled on was plush and inviting, a perfect spot to unwind and steal a few moments for yourselves.You nestled into Jude’s side, your head resting on his chest as he draped an arm around your shoulders. The warmth of his body against your was comforting, grounding you in the midst of the chaos that swirled around you. You were close enough to the action to still feel a part of it, but far enough away that you could have a conversation without having to shout over the noise. You just sat there, content in each other’s presence. Jude absentmindedly played with a tassel of your dress twirling it around his finger as he looked down at you. There was something so peaceful about moments like this—when it was just the two of you, and the rest of the world seemed to fade away. After a while, Jude broke the comfortable silence.

“You know,” he began, his voice soft but carrying an undertone of seriousness, “I’ve been thinking a lot about us lately.” He cooed.

“What about us?” you asked, your voice gentle as you studied his expression. You tilted your head up to look at him, your eyes curious. Jude paused for a moment, choosing his words carefully. Embarrassingly you were hoping he’d give you some sort of label.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way about anyone before,” he admitted, his tone earnest. “You’re… different. You’re like a piece of art—one of those masterpieces that people spend their whole lives searching for. And somehow, I got lucky enough to find you.” Jude’s expression was serious.

“That’s quite the compliment,” you said, your voice touched with amusement. “You’re saying I belong in a museum?” You felt your heart swell at his words, a soft teasing smile playing on your lips.

“Not a museum,” he corrected, his fingers brushing lightly against your cheek. Jude chuckled, shaking his head. “You belong in a private collection, where only the right person can fully appreciate you. You’re not just beautiful, Y/N. You’re one of a kind.” he mused.

“I think you’re giving me too much credit,” you murmured, though his words had clearly touched you. Your smile widened, but there was a hint of shyness in your eyes. It wasn’t a label but this was a sweet conversation.

“No, I’m not,” Jude insisted, his voice firm but tender. “I mean it. There’s something about you… something I can’t quite put into words. It’s like you’ve got all these layers, and every time I think I’ve figured you out, there’s something new. Like those paintings that reveal something different every time you look at them.”

“You really know how to flatter a girl, don’t you?” you teased, though the affection in your voice was unmistakable. “But you know, I’ve always thought of you as more of a sculpture. Strong, defined… but there’s a softness to you that people don’t see unless they get close enough.” You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head slightly. Jude’s expression softened at your words, his thumb gently stroking your shoulder.

“I like that,” he said quietly. “I like that you see me that way. But I think you’re the first one to get that close to me, Y/N. You’re the artist or maybe the gallerist I guess who brings me to life.” He smiled. You felt a lump form in your throat at the sincerity in his voice. You had always been careful with your heart, afraid of letting anyone get too close, but with Jude, it was different. He saw you in a way no one else did, and that scared you as much as it thrilled you.

“You’re important to me, Jude,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. “More than I ever expected. Sometimes I feel like I’m still figuring out what this is… what we are. But I know one thing for sure—I don’t want to lose you.” Jude’s grip on your tightened slightly, as if he were afraid you might slip away.

“You won’t lose me,” he promised, his voice firm. “I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. I want to be here, with you, angel, for as long as you’ll have me, as long as you want to stay.” He gently cooed. You leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, a silent acknowledgment of everything you were feeling but couldn’t quite say. When you pulled back, you rested your forehead against his, closing your eyes as you let yourself savor the moment.

“Stay with me tonight,” Jude whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “Just like this. I don’t care about the party or anyone else here. I just want you.” He cooed.

“I’m not going anywhere, Judey.” You nodded with a smirk, your voice catching as you replied. As you stayed there with him, Jude felt fear wash over him. Just how smitten he was was ringing every alarm bell. He could feel it and although with you in his arms settling his racing heart he began to panic watching his other world spin around him and you creating a whole new one for him that just didn’t seem to be able to merge. You stayed curled up in Jude’s arms for what felt like hours, the world outside your little bubble fading away as the party continued to swirl around you. The music, the laughter, the clinking of glasses—it all became background noise to the comforting rhythm of Jude’s heartbeat under your ear. You could have stayed like that forever, letting the warmth of his body seep into you, but eventually, the effects of the wine and the hours of sitting began to catch up with you.

“I think I drank a little too much,” you murmured, your voice a mix of amusement and self-awareness as you glanced up at him. You shifted slightly, trying to ignore the way the room tilted ever so slightly as you moved.

“Yeah? You’ve had a long day, angel” he said gently, brushing a stray lock of fallen hair behind your ear. “Why don’t you go up to my bed? I’ll be up in a bit.” Jude’s eyes softened as he looked down at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Are you sure?” you asked, your voice laced with reluctance. You hesitated, not wanting to leave the safety of his embrace, but the warmth of the alcohol and the late hour were making you drowsy.

“Positive,” Jude replied, his tone taking on a more playful edge as he leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear. “And angel… make sure you’re ready for me when I get there.” He whispered. The suggestion in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt a blush creep up your neck. You nodded, your heart fluttering as you pulled yourself away from him and stood up, feeling slightly unsteady on your feet. Jude watched you go, his eyes following you as you made your way through the crowded room. His heart clenched painfully in his chest as he watched your retreating figure. How could he miss someone who was still within his line of sight? The feeling was so foreign, so intense, that it almost overwhelmed him. He had never felt this way about anyone before—so completely taken, so utterly captivated. As soon as you disappeared from view, the atmosphere of the party seemed to rush back at him all at once. Like the crack of thunder. The noise, the lights, the people—it was a jarring contrast to the quiet intimacy he had just shared with you. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but the realization of how deeply you had gotten under his skin left him reeling. Before he could process his thoughts, he felt a heavy hand clap down on his shoulder. Jude turned to see Toby grinning at him with a knowing look in his eyes.

“Mate,” Toby said, his voice tinged with amusement, “you’re down so bad. Oh my days.” He laughed.

“What are you talking about?” he replied, trying to sound nonchalant. Jude gave a half-hearted chuckle, shrugging off the comment even as it hit closer to home than he would have liked.

“Don’t be daft” Toby continued, his grin widening. “I saw the way you were looking at her. You’re a complete melt, bro. I never thought I’d see the day.” He raised his eyebrows.

“It’s not like that,” he said, though his voice lacked conviction. “She’s just… different.” Jude rolled his eyes, trying to brush off the teasing, but he couldn’t shake the feeling Toby’s words had stirred up inside him. Jude felt everything slipping as he was being called out. He felt out of control and he needed to get back to being Jude.

“Different? You mean she’s got you tied in knots, mate. Don’t tell me you’re getting serious about this girl. What are you doing, bro?” Toby raised his eyebrow once more, clearly unconvinced. Jude hesitated, his mind racing. He didn’t want to admit it—to himself or to anyone else—but Toby was right. He was serious about you, more serious than he had ever been about anyone. And that scared the hell out of him.

“Nah, you’re just seeing things,” he said, clapping Toby on the back. “I’m still the same lad I’ve always been.” Not wanting to dwell on the uncomfortable truth, Jude forced a grin and tried to play it off.

“Sure, Jude. Whatever you say.” Toby snorted, clearly not buying it. “But don’t let her keep you on a leash. There’s plenty of fun to be had in Madrid, where she doesn’t live, and here tonight, if you know what I mean.” Toby nodded toward a group of girls nearby, one of whom had been eyeing Jude all night. She was pretty, with a bright smile and a confident air about her. A year ago, Jude wouldn’t have thought twice about going over to talk to her. But now… now all he could think about was you upstairs, waiting for him. But there was a part of him—small but persistent—that didn’t want to let himself be so caught up in one person. He didn’t want to be the guy who got too serious, who lost his edge. He didn’t want to be the guy who let a girl tie him down, who let himself get hurt.

“You know what? You’re right,” he said, though the words felt wrong on his tongue. “Gonna go see what’s out there. Nothing’s changed here.” In a moment of defiance—against Toby’s teasing, against the feelings he couldn’t quite understand—Jude made a decision. He gave Toby a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Toby laughed, clearly pleased with himself, and gave Jude an encouraging shove in the direction of the girl. Jude hesitated for a split second, his heart tugging him in the opposite direction, but then he pushed it down. He wouldn’t let himself get too deep, too invested. Not yet. With that thought in mind, Jude walked over to the girl, putting on his most charming smile, but even as he made small talk, his mind was elsewhere—on the girl who was waiting for him upstairs, the girl who had somehow managed to make him feel things he wasn’t ready to feel.

•

🪩🫶❤️‍🔥🍹🌞🍒 Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter 🍒🌞🍹❤️‍🔥🫶🪩

Next part - Chapter 8 - Last Night xx

[dilf-rot]

Avoidant Attachment

based on Anon request :  could you do a fic of meeting Logan and wade in the void and joining the team? Logan and you are into each other but are kinda awkward hide behind being mean to each other wades so over it later on smuttt <3333

Word Count: 5841 

Tags: Wolverine x Reader, Worst!Wolverine x Reader, Logan howlett x Reader, Fem!Reader (kinda?), Wade is here too, Meeting in the Void, Deadpool 3, Deadpool and Wolverine, Laura is Also here, 5 people in a one bedroom apartment is a great idea, Althea is here briefly, dogpool mention, slower burn but like not really, mutual pining, Wade and Laura as wingmen, insults as flirting, eventual smut, One bed trope included, P in V, Riding

AN: This one took a lot longer than I was expecting, probably since I haven’t written Wade before and I didn’t want it to suck, and also because I was quite busy irl. Regardless, thank you for the request and your patience, Hope you don’t mind my interpretation of the prompt<3

MDNI 18+

—------------------

The Void. Boring as Hell, and yet somehow worse than hell. At least Hell would grant you company, shitty company, but better than the dust and trash here. You don’t even remember why you got put here. Probably some bullshit you weren’t even responsible for. You had a pretty lame set up, just a hole in the ground really. And you’d find garbage to shift through, look for food. You had managed to do pretty well on your own for a decent amount of time. Other than being lonely, and the occasional breakdown, things weren’t so bad.

The air was stale and unremarkable, as was the sky, no sign of oncoming doom or any excitement for the day. Or so you thought. 

Over the horizon of dusty dirt and forgotten garbage, appeared two silhouettes. 

As they approached, inching closer and closer you debated on whether you should interact or just ignore, they didn’t seem like they had been here long. 

You watched closely waiting for your moment to make a move. Listening to them as they approached.

Deadpool. Common, usually annoying. 

But the one with him. That’s a rather rare sight. You had never seen one of him before.

They seemed like they were on a mission, maybe trying to escape from here. If you could escape, maybe you could return to something approaching a normal life again. 

You decide to take the chance.

“Hello,” You pop out from your little shelter. Both men jolt into action, blades and guns drawn. The man in yellow, the interesting rare man, had blades coming out of his hands. “Oh no, not a threat.” 

They regard each other and then put the weapons away.

“Knew I smelt something,” his voice was rough and it added to his appeal for sure. 

“And you didn’t want to say anything? Some blood hound you are!” Deadpool spoke, punching the gruff one in the shoulder.

“Sorry, I know you’re a Deadpool. But you are?” You point to him. 

“Logan,” “Wolverine,” they speak out in tandem. 

“Right, so… what’re you doing this far out?” 

“Not telling you random dirt dweller,” Deadpool looked back towards Logan, and seemed to be weighing his options.

“Ok well, if you decide to be friendly I could offer my help.”

“You don’t look like you’d be of much help,” Logan retorted as he looked you over. You were obviously smaller and not as strong as either of them, but you had some tricks up your sleeve.

“Ouch, I would be offended if you didn’t have hair like kitty ears.” You pointed up at Logan’s hair and he seemed surprised by your response. “I’ve been in the void longer than you, I’m sure I know some things that would be useful to you,”

“Listen, Kid-”

“Yeah, me and Kitty Cat here are trying to get back at that bald freak show of a woman and escape this hell. So unless you know how to do that, I’d stay out of it, dust bunny.” 

You laugh and look at the state of them, confused but still combative, barely holding it together and hardly friends. “That’s a good one. Good luck with Cassandra then, Ketchup and Mustard.”

Deadpool gasps and Logan seems to have the inklings of a smile on his face but it quickly fades when you turn to look at him. You sit down on a nearby piece of rubble and watch as they take a few steps away and start to argue about what the plan is. You smile and wave when they look back at you.

“Ok, so what do you know?” Deadpool asks, rushing back up to you. And so you do your best to fill him in on as much as you know about the void itself and Cassandra. All of which seems to not be that useful to him as he just sort of brushes it off and continues, “Well as much as I’d love to have you on the team sunshine, seems like Wolvie over there isn’t too keen on it.” He points over to Logan, who turns away and kicks some dust and debris around. “But, between you and me, he’s just bad with girls. Especially pretty ones with quick mouths.” 

You blush a bit but return a quick retort, “That’s fine, not like I have anything to escape back to anyway. Good luck, random Deadpool.”

“It’s Wade.” 

“Right,” You wave as he runs back to Logan. You imagined it wouldn’t be that long before you see them again, mostly because you had planned on following them, or at least trailing them for long enough to find a new place to stay. 

—-----------

You meet them again at the safe house with Laura, she drove them here and plopped them down without a word. She had been very welcoming when you had wandered this way in search of food, and let you join them for a quick meal. You had told her that you saw Wolverine, and her interest had been piqued. She explained to you everything that had happened before she was sent here, and the two of you bonded over not having something to return too. Although now, with this Wolverine sitting in the same space, it seemed like her chances were looking up.

You figured you’d let them be once they woke up, and wait it out. By the time everyone had finished their speeches, you just stood behind them and waved. You didn’t have much to say, everyone else had much more valid reasoning for wanting to escape than you. You could hardly remember life before the void, if you even had one. Luckily, nobody ever bothered to press you about it, probably assuming you had forgotten for a valid reason. So when Deadpool- Wade, asked you for your input, you sort of just shrugged. Listening to them all plotting was entertaining at least, you were sure you would be of much use, maybe an extra distraction, at the very least you could cover them enough to get the job done. 

You noticed Logan slip out with a bottle of liquor in his hands. You gave Laura a nod before following him outside.

He had started a fire, and was sitting watching the flames.

“So how’d someone like you end up with someone like that?” You gesture back up to the house, as you stand against a tree, watching the fire flicker in front of him.

“It’s complicated.” He says taking a swig from the bottle.

“It always is.” Silence runs through the trees, nothing but crackling fire and the dead stale air of the void. “At least he seems fun.”

“Hah,” He breathes out.

“If that’s what you’re into.”

“No.” His gruff demeanor drops for a second, the bottle halting as he brings it down from his lips.

“No?”

He looks you over, before turning away.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it. I’ll say a prayer for your liver,” You reference the bottle in your hand. He nods, and you walk back up to the house, passing Laura on your way in. She’d probably have better luck cracking him than you.

You wondered if you would ever have a chance to mean something to him, to be more than some small tag along he sniffed out in the dirt. If he would ever find you to be a friend, an ally, someone to talk to, depend on. But you hardly just met, and hardly discussed anything other than half baked insults and nihilistic opinions of the void and your futures.  

—----------------

Wade and Logan had somehow convinced the TVA after everything with Cassandra to allow you and Laura to stay in this universe, and you weren’t sure how or why they wanted you to come along. Laura made sense, he felt responsible for her, and to make up for losing her Logan, to make up for missed moments. 

You? You hardly had a clue why they wanted you here. Or why they offered to let you stay with them until you found something else. You were surprised that Althea would agree to having 5 people sleeping in a tiny apartment. You appreciated the shelter, you were just very very confused by the entire situation. 

“Hello my little floor sleeper, how were your dreams? You were moaning about something…” He slides up next to you in the kitchen as you're pouring a cup of coffee.

“Hi, Wade.” You sip from the mug, not answering his nonsense.

“So,” he jumps up to sit on the counter in front of you, “You gonna spill? Tell me all about your honey badger dream fling? I was surprised you didn’t just wake up and mount him right there on the floor.”

“Shut up, I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“Come on, the three of us sleep in the same tiny space, I hear everything.” 

“I’m gonna steal the couch space from you if you don’t drop it.”

Laura had been given a space in Althea’s room since the boys figured she deserved it, and You, Logan, and Wade were stuck in the living room. Rotating between the couch and cheap air mattresses, usually you just stayed on the floor and let Logan and Wade fight over the couch space. Compared to sleeping on grass and dirt in the void, an air mattress was a definite improvement. As long as Mary Puppins didn’t lick you to death in your sleep, it wasn’t a bad deal. 

“Come on, just admit you like Loggie Bear and I’ll get you some alone time with or without the couch.” 

“Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“Currently, no.”

You sigh, and walk towards the bathroom to change, locking the door behind you as Wade continues to ramble and try to get you to slip and say something about Logan. But you won’t, even if he is right.

There were many nights where you thought about climbing into bed next to him and pressing your face against his chest, breathing in his scent, being held close to him by those utterly ridiculous arms, having him place warm chaste kisses against the top of your head. But you wouldn’t.  

You hardly knew him, and what you knew about him led you to believe that he was not the kind of man to be interested in someone like you. Although he had become more pleasant after having been invited into Wade’s life. Some days he still was that gruff sort of emotionally unavailable man you met in the void, but other days he’s sweet and gentle and kind, usually whenever Laura’s around. It’s as if he’s been given a reason to live again and he’s navigating how to be a person again. 

After you get dressed, you grab your bag and head out, avoiding Wade and his nonsense. You told Laura you’d meet her after her class and go to a cafe she’s been wanting to try. It’s just down the street from the apartment, but the walk is nice and gives you time to get your thoughts back in order. Trying to keep Wade’s pestering from seeping in and getting you to slip up.

When you get to the cafe, Laura is waiting for you outside. You go in and are met with soft florals, sleek wood finish, and the overwhelming smell of coffee. It is so cozy and bright, a welcome break from the dim and crowded apartment. Laura orders something you didn’t know was a thing, and you opt for a simple latte. She finds this funny and smiles at you, “Don’t you want something sweet?”

“No, I’m alright.” You lean against the wall as you wait for your order.

“What’s with you and Logan’s hatred for sugar?” She asks as she slides over to stand next to you.

“I don’t hate sugar, I’m just not in the mood for it.” You shrug and stare at the counter.

“At least you get milk with your coffee, better than black like Logan drinks.” She laughs again and grabs your order when it’s called. The two of you find a nice table by the window and enjoy watching the people passing by. When a particularly handsome man passes by, Laura perks up and asks, “How about that one?”

“He’s alright, not really my type though,” You shrug your shoulders and take another sip from your cup.

“You’re right, I already know your type.” The grin on your face reminds you of how Wade greets you in the mornings.

“Oh yeah? What's that?” You look at her quizzically. 

“Starts with an L and ends with an ogan”

You groan, “Don’t I get enough of that from Wade?”

“I think everyone can see it but you, even Al.” She looks up at you from her drink, in a way you both know she’s right.

“Wow,” is all you can muster in response. 

“I don’t know why you won’t do something about it, and look if you’re worried about me, don’t be. I give you full permission to pursue my not Dad kinda Dad.” 

You quickly try to change the subject, and once your coffee's finished and you’ve loitered around, you walk back in a knowing silence. 

You do have some sort of crush on Logan, but you feel like it would be too ideal to expect him to share those feelings. Especially when you aren’t one hundred percent sure what those feelings even are. He is exceptionally good looking, and well built. If it weren’t for his confrontational attitude and lack of expression, you’d be so certain in your attraction. But there is something blocking you from fully admitting it to yourself.

Maybe it is simply your lack of self, having to build back an identity from nothing, that keeps you from knowing if He is it for you. Even though sometimes he is all you can think about. When you catch him playing dad with Laura. When you catch him helping Althea, a gentle smile plastered on his face as he speaks soft and gentlemanly. When he falls asleep on the couch with Mary Puppins in his arms. The images of the side he works so hard to hide, the soft domesticity he allows himself so rarely. That is what really sticks in your brain.

Along with the less than innocent images you have carved into your brain. Like that time he forgot you were home and came out from the bathroom only wrapped in a towel. The water clinging to his muscles and dripping from his hair. Or when he had his sleeves rolled up while walking around the apartment, the skin shiny from sweat, and all you could think about was what it would feel like to be held in place by them.

When you remember yourself, both you and Laura have made it back to the apartment. 

—-------

You were surprised that for once, everyone was home for dinner, and it wasn’t even a special occasion. Wade decided that it would be easiest to order some pizzas to avoid having to cook. You didn’t complain, even if you would have preferred a home cooked meal, pizza was fine. Of course he had gone to pick it up and left you with Logan, Laura, and Althea. She, reasonably so, had her spot already picked out in the armchair by the window. Logan and Laura were sitting on opposite sides of the couch, watching something on tv. All the while you sat on the floor, legs folded over each other, leaning back on your hands. 

“Why don’t you come sit on the couch?” Laura had asked, and you knew she already knew the answer, which was that you didn’t want to be so close to Logan that you would be touching. You had been cultivating a very specific environment with him, one where if you could just avoid any close contact with him, you could pretend like your heart didn't ache at the thought of him.

“I’m good here,” You didn’t bother looking away from the tv, which you weren’t even watching. 

“Come on,” Laura patted the cushion next to her. 

“Maybe I don’t want to sit next to the cat,” You looked over your shoulder at them. Logan was leaning back into the cushions behind him.

“I don’t want to sit next to you either,” His tone was only slightly malicious.

“Good.”

“Just sit on the couch,” Laura insisted. 

“No. He reeks, I think the animal dna gave him the scent too,” You waved your hand in front of your nose.

“But I don’t smell,” Laura sniffed her shirt.

“You reek too, ya know?” Logan pointed to Mary Puppins in the corner, “Probably cause you’re always sleeping next to that.” 

“Thanks. She’s actually a better roommate than you.” 

“You all stink,” Althea commented from her spot. 

As you stood up to walk towards the kitchen the door swung open. “PIZZA TIME!” Wade shouted, carrying the stack of boxes into the apartment. 

You ate mostly in silence, as Wade rambled on about something or someone that you had no interest in. Lately he was obsessed with those trashy reality tv shows were people all live in one house and things go wrong one way or another. You felt like you were already living in that, no need to watch strangers go through it too. It’s not that you felt like you were walking on eggshells, or that you weren’t welcome. More so that you were waiting for this whole thing to blow up in your face. 

—---------

It was late in the morning when you managed to roll out of your bed. Logan and Wade had already been awake and were trying their hardest to be quiet. Rather, Logan was quiet, and Wade was not. You didn’t hear what they were talking about, only that Logan mumbled something under his breath and Wade turned to see you sitting up on the floor.

“Good morning sleeping beauty! Pancakes or waffles?” He turned to you and you saw he was wearing one of those tacky ‘kiss the chef’ aprons.

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and stood up to stretch, “Whichever you’re less likely to burn.” 

Wade feigned offense, as you walked into the bathroom to brush your teeth and hair. “How do you manage to sleep so soundly down there?” Wade called from the kitchen as you walked back into the living room.

“I don’t.” You pulled out a chair and sat at the dining table, still groggy. “Which is why I need to get a job, and my own place.” 

“You’re leaving me?” Wade gasped, and crossed his hands over his heart. “How could you? What about the kids?” He started making a big fuss about it as if you hadn’t told him before that this had been your plan. “I can’t believe you would leave me alone with honey badger and the little ones! I can’t raise them alone.”

“Everyone that lives here is an adult, Wade.”

“Let her be,” Laura said as she slid into the kitchen and sat next to you. She smiled at you and nodded. 

Wade and Logan joined you at the table, sliding the plates of pancakes to you and her. They weren’t burnt, which was progress. 

—--------

You had spent the day job hunting, and apartment hunting, which was not as important since you kinda needed the money first. The cafe you had been to with Laura was hiring, though not having much of a resume due to the whole void and lack of a world thing, probably meant your chances of getting hired were slim. You submitted an application anyway, and to a few other shops and things in the area. Hopefully something would stick.

There really weren't many options in the area for apartments either, but when you ran into the building manager they had mentioned that one of the other units on your floor might be opening up soon. It wasn’t ideal to be in the same building as Wade and the others, but it was your only lead at the moment. 

When Wade got home, he had a sort of look in his eyes, which you had learned meant something was up. And when Laura came home with the same sort of look, you were even more suspicious. 

“What are you two doing?” You asked, approaching them in the kitchen.

“Well I thought I could do something nice for you,” Wade had his hands behind his back, holding something hidden from you. “And Logan,” he whispered but you still caught it.

“What?” Logan appeared from the bathroom, and leaned against the wall.

Wade handed you a piece of paper, “Tada!” You looked over the paper, it was a reservation confirmation for a hotel. “A magical getaway for you and the kitty cat to work out your differences at an all inclusive resort!”

“This is a Best Western.” The dates on the sheet were for tomorrow, Friday, until Sunday morning. 

“Did I stutter?” Wade stood with his hands on his hips.

“Who said I wanted to do this?” Logan asked, coming up behind you to look at the paper. He was so close you could almost feel his warmth against you. 

“Come on, you complain about the air mattress all the time,” Laura started, “This is your chance for a real bed.”

“Ok? So why do I have to go with her,” He was looming behind you, and the deep vibrations of his voice made your cheeks redden.

“It was cheaper to have two guests than one.” 

“Fine,” He walked away. You were also surprised that he would so quickly agree to something like this. As it was so obviously a set up. A plot against you.

“Perfect! Now go get packing!” Wade slapped you on the shoulder, and smiled. You knew this was all his idea. 

—-------

You were expecting this to be a set up, but when you opened the door and saw only one bed you knew it to be true. Logan walks in while you hold the door and he drops down onto the edge of the bed. You sigh as you drag your bag in and make a mental note to get back at Wade later. You turn the TV on to try to dispel the oppressive silence in the room, but all that's on the hotel cable is questionably written Hallmark movies. Logan shifts on the bed, and you hear it creak under his weight. You wonder what he would feel like on top of you, if he would crush you entirely.

 You sit in the chair that's against the wall, peering out through the cracks in the curtains to stare out at the parking lot, the sun is low against the horizon, and it’s surprisingly quiet. You can hear the fabric of the cheap hotel sheets rustling under Logan, along with the sound of his breathing, as he leans back into the bed, and you wonder how long you’ll be able to survive in a small room alone with him.

Despite having slept in the same room for the past few months, this is an entirely different situation. There’s no Wade, or Laura, or Mary puppins, or Althea. It is just you and him, in a hotel room, with one bed. Which was certainly a set up from Wade, in his quests to get you to admit your feelings for Logan. 

“Are you hungry?” You try to break the silence in the most mundane way possible, at least to save yourself from the discomfort.

“I could eat,”

“We could get room service?”

“Fine by me.” You toss him the menu and once you both decide on what to get you call it in. It was going to take a while, so you decided to take advantage of the luxury of a hotel shower. Telling Logan you wouldn’t be too long and to let you know if the food came before you were done. 

The shower is nice, clean white tiles, and a rather standard sort of set up. It is nice to have some time to yourself, despite Logan being in the other room, you try to allow yourself this time to relax. Letting the hot water soak into your skin and soothe your aches and pains. The sound of the water blocking out any thoughts or concerns about the current situation, letting you forget, at least momentarily, that you would be having to sort out the sleeping arrangements. The hotel soap is tropical, but gentle, not too overwhelmingly sweet or fruity. As you lather up you can barely hear the sounds of the tv in the other room. It is so still and unremarkable. It feels normal, but somehow you wonder if you can ever shake the loneliness of time in the void, if you can allow yourself to have a normal life again. As if you can build back something you don’t even remember. As if you deserve this space that has miraculously been carved out for you, for some reason unbeknownst to you. 

Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a knock on the door, and the noise of Logan’s steps going to retrieve the room service. You quickly rinse and towel off, wrapping up your hair and sliding into the hotel bathrobe. 

“Food’s here,” Logan calls from behind the bathroom door. You wait until you hear him sit back down on the bed before opening the door and returning to your spot in the chair. 

The two of you eat in silence, and you can’t help but notice his eyes on you. You wonder if it is just in your head, or if he is actually trying to steal glances at you from across the way. You tried to ignore him, to stare fully at the trash tv movie, or at the weird art on the walls. Anything but him. If you could just pretend like he wasn’t there, you could make it for the next two nights. 

Although being this close to him in a small hotel room was not the ideal scenario to make forgetting about him easy. His breathing was audible. His presence was palpable. Even the vague scent of whiskey, cigars, and sweat was radiating from his position on the bed. Every little detail filled your mind with a fog, and all that was running through your brain was him. Over and over. Logan was everywhere. 

“You want to sleep soon?” His voice cut through the haze and you practically snapped your neck to look over at him.

“Hm? Oh… uh yeah probably.” You couldn’t help but look directly into his eyes, and you felt like you should disappear so that he couldn’t make you feel so foolish. So utterly trapped by the idea of him. “I can Just take the cushions from the chair and sleep on the floor,”

“That defeats the whole point of Wade’s gift.”

“So?” You started pulling the cushions of the chair and throwing them on the floor.

“You can sleep up here in the bed,” His voice was commanding. It was no longer a polite suggestion. “I don’t bite.”

“Right but-” As you go to protest, he interrupts.

“We can face opposite ways.” 

And so that is how you ended up in your pajama shorts and a ratty tee shirt, in bed with Logan. Who, true to his word, had his back facing you, and you had your back facing him. You could hear your heart beating, and no matter what you told yourself you could not get it to slow down. His presence, only inches away, was consuming you. Your mind is unable to stop racing with images of him holding you down, touching you, eating you alive. Making you squirm beneath him. You squirmed and thrashed trying to get comfortable enough to fall asleep, but even with your eyes screwed shut you couldn’t.

“Stop moving,” Logan’s voice was low and rumbly. He turned towards you, and laid his arm over your middle, pulling your back against him. “Go to sleep,” He murmured, his lips against the back of your head. 

He was warm and solid behind you, his body pressed to yours gently. His grasp on you wasn’t tight, but the sheer weight of him kept you firmly in place. As you tried to quell your heart and steady your breathing, you finally managed to drift asleep. And stay asleep, the entire night. 

—-----

The hotel was so quiet and peaceful, and clean, compared to the apartment. You managed to sleep soundly, and stay asleep until late in the morning. You had nearly forgotten about the situation, until you were met with Logan’s arm still snuggly wrapped around you as you opened your eyes.

His lips were pressed to the back of your head, his muscular frame firmly pressed against your back. His grip had tightened in the night, and he had pulled you even closer to himself. As you tried to remove yourself from him, he grumbled against you, “Stay.”

“Logan-” You tried to protest, to escape from the growing embarrassment and heat building up in your body.

“Just a bit longer.” He groaned, and pressed himself further into you. Your breath caught in your throat as you felt the growing bulge against your lower back. 

“Logan, please. Let me get up.” You pushed against his arm, and tried to pull yourself away but you were no match for him. 

“Why?” His voice was losing the grogginess of sleep, he was almost fully awake now. 

“Because-” You tried again to free yourself.

“Don’t you like me?” He sounded cocky, the question perhaps meaning to be playful but it stopped you dead in your tracks.

“I-” You stiffen, unable to react accordingly. 

“Then, stay.” Taken aback by his words and sudden clingy behavior, you realized that maybe Laura had been right, and everyone, including Logan, could see it. The way you had begun to feel about him, the almost immediate crush you developed as soon as you spotted him in the void, the way you felt thankful to have the chance at life again, simply because you wanted the chance to spend it with him.

You lay stuck in his arms for an unknown amount of time, the silence makes you a little uneasy, but his warmth and tenderness keeps you from leaping away. You didn’t imagine him to be someone so gentle, although you had glimpsed some of his more domestic behaviors when he thought it was just Him and Laura at home, and he would fuss over her like how you would want a good father to do. You felt safe and held by him, the frantic thoughts and anxieties being melted away into the warmth of him and his body against yours. 

As you nearly drift asleep again, he speaks, “Turn around.” And so you do, clumsily, but when you see his face those frantic thoughts and the racing of your heart begins again.  

“So pretty like this,” He murmurs, his face and voice soft. And before you can respond he closes the gap between you, his hand lacing in your hair and pulling you into him as he presses his lips against your gentle and steady. The brief taste of him makes you crave more.

As he pulls away to search your face for any signs of discomfort, you pull him back to you, your hands reaching up to his face to crash your lips into his. You whimper against him as his hands run down your spine and land on your hips, pulling you as close to him as he can. You can feel your arousal pooling between your thighs as he darts his tongue in to meet yours, twisting and tangling yourself with him as much as you can. The months of unspoken tension pouring out of you and dissipating as you desperately try to push yourself against him. You bring your hand down to paw at his bulge, darting your fingers across the fabric of his pajama pants. 

He smiles against you as he catches your hand with his and bring it under the waistband. You gasp when you realize he had not been wearing anything underneath his pants. Your fingers wrapping around him, the warmth and size of him in your hand making your head spin. 

His hands find their way to the edge of your shorts, pulling them and your panties down your legs as he breaks the kiss only for a moment to find his breath. His fingers trace up and down your thighs, pressing gentle circles into the skin before he pushes his hand between them, his palm pressing into you. The brief friction against your clit drawing a short moan from you. His hand rubs against you, the pressure making you grind down to meet him, craving more.

You whine as he pulls his hand away, only for him to grab your hips and pull you on top of him. His back against the bed as he brings you to straddle him. You kick your shorts and panties away, as he pulls his pants down further. His erection springing up against you. You can barely focus long enough to glimpse the size of him, too overcome with greed and arousal. 

You sink yourself onto his cock as his hands guide your hips. You moan at the stretch of it. He lets you catch your breath as you take him down to the hilt. His hands never leave you as he kisses and nips along your neck and shoulders, your head pressed against his shoulder as he begins to rock into you, whispering praises and filth against your skin. 

You grind your hips against his, the head of his cock dragging along that magic spot inside of you that causes the pleasure to build and the knot in your stomach to tighten. He growls in your ear as you tighten and pulse around him. You can feel the pressure building, making your head spin. He slips his fingers into your mouth and you greedily accept them, sucking and licking and kissing along them. He removes them and a trail of your saliva beads down them. He brings them between you to rub circles on your clit. The sensation dizzying, as he draws you closer and closer to the edge. Your moans are frantic as you practically pant against him, begging him not to stop, that you’re so close, so so close. 

With one steady thrust he snaps the last thread and you come undone around him. The feeling of you cumming around him bringing him to his limit, if he wasn’t so enraptured by you he might have been embarrassed with how quickly you’ve made him cum. His warmth fills you as you come down from your high, hazy and drooling. You smile as he presses you against him. You don’t mind staying like this, you whine when he tries to move.

“Alright, princess. I’ll stay.” He smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

[polarisjisung]

LOVE ON THE COURT | 20 ... WITH BENEFITS??

SYNOPSIS | every college student has their struggles, but raising her younger brother has Y/N top of the list, struggling her way through college whilst balancing her academics and basketball captaincy is difficult no doubt and with Jaemin, her ex best friend and captain of the guys basketball team, and his growing one sided hatred towards her, it doesn't seem to be getting any easier

WARNINGS | swearing, sexual innuendos, kys/kms jokes, y/n has daddy issues for the sake of the plot

NOTES | I have no idea why this update took me so long to post I'm so sorry 😭 I don't like making chapters like this too sad (don't worry there's still gonna be some angsty chapters) but I don't want the written stuff on its own bcs that feels too espresso depresso or wtv the phrase is so this is a bit of a longer chap than usual.. anyways if ever you feel bad for y/n, don't worry you're gonna feel worse

19:21, dinner the night before

Y/n shuffles in her seat.

Jaemin greets her with a smile, and though she offers one back, that sinking feeling in her stomach doesn't seem to settle.

Suddenly now that she finds herself face to face with her once best friend, no menus in hand since they'd already given their orders, no way to avoid conversation for just a couple seconds longer, Y/n finds herself at a loss for words.

What was anyone supposed to say in this situation?

Sure a thank you would be ideal, considering Jaemin had somehow managed the impossible, but the words escaped her. Like they rested at the tip of her tongue but she lacked the drive to speak them.

It's not that y/n wasn't grateful, no, she wouldn't be here if she wasn't, in fact she didn't know what it was, what confused her so deeply that she sat there silently. Her thumbs twiddling against one another, as she stared down at the table in front of her.

There was a nagging whisper in her mind, one that cast shadows over her once clear thoughts, leaving her in that haze of uncertainty that she recognised all too well. Recently it was all she could feel around the captain.

Something about this situation in particular makes her palms sweaty and the hairs stand on her neck, every glance at Jaemin feeling like a shadow of what had once been, a reminder of how it had all been lost.

Even just sitting opposite Jaemin isn't simple.

Not at all.

It's like sitting across from a mirror that once reflected shared laughter and secrets, now distorted by fractures of lost trust and unspoken words. She supposed that was the thing about mirrors and shattering. No matter how hard you tried to glue the pieces back together, it would never quite be the same.

Perhaps that's why y/n is lousy in her attempts, grateful to Jaemin but unbothered to express it. The thought that no matter how desperately she hoped, this couldn't be restored. That there was no point in pouring energy into a friendship that would never be resolved.

"So" it's undoubtedly jaemin who breaks the silence, a soft tone to his voice, not quite as gentle as the other night but still warm "are you feeling better? like really okay?"

For a moment she wonders whether she'll break at the sound of his voice like she always had. Would she go back to that point in life where it was so easy to lie, so easy to say she was okay, so easy to pretend, in front of everyone else but never in front of him.

"I'm fine, honestly." She lies.

There's a shy sheepish smile that creeps across her lips and slightly accents her words

Jaemin hasn't seen much of her positivity be directed his way, and seeing this ignites the little hope in him that they could move on from this, from everything.

"You didn't have to work on it without me you know, it was just as much my project as it was yours and you putting in all the effort isn't fair on you."

"You did most of the preliminary stuff anyways, and I really didn't want to ask you because of the other night" Jaemin finally admits, though not willingly, his words extracted more so by her sharp stare and the cold atmosphere.

"Right..." Her attempts at changing the subject, clearly in vain— he really needed to stop asking about the other night. Y/n wasn't sure how much h longer she could hold back the tears, the looming feeling of inadequacy as a guardian still strong. She should have been more careful.

She knows its her turn to speak, opening her mouth to do so.

But again, y/n struggles.

The words play hide and seek in her mind, leaving her to grasp at empty. The atmosphere grows heavy with the weight of unspoken words. Her mind races, a jumble of what to say, thoughts of how easy conversation once was, how effortless it had been, all such a stark contrast to now.

Jaemin watches, a mix of intrigue and concern in his eyes as she contemplates in front of him, quiet but with an expression that spoke volumes.

The silence between them seems to bite louder than any conversation they once held, each dish in front, a reminder of the bitter aftertaste of a friendship turned cold.

"It's just Minjun and I" she breathes out, voice shaky, and Jaemin realises that those nervous cues in her slumped posture and shaking hands had never changed "It's just been the two of us for a while" she whispered. "That's why I was so scared"

Jaemin's hand hovers uncertainly beneath the table, unsure if the gesture would be welcomed or misunderstood, caught in the delicate balance of care and concern.

Admittedly, Jaemin catches himself slightly intrigued, still confused what could have lead to her practically perfectly family turning into this.

But he knows better than to let his curiosity get the best of him.

He wants to stop her, tell her that whatever it is that causes her brows to knit together and her pretty eyes to gloss over isn't something she needs to force herself to talk about, but he doesn't know how.

For a moment he's kicking himself under the table— how had he ever let go of the person who meant so much to him?

Even now, knowing everything she had done, he couldnt help but question why hadn't he tried to get past it then?

At the sight of her downcast features suddenly everything that he once despised her for seemed so trivial.

Jaemin sees himself, a younger, less mature version that stands on the court, hair matted to his forehead from the rain, a ball long forgotten somewhere behind him, cold, betrayed, and so painfully alone. Those burning tear stained cheeks, the harsh whistles of wind, the bitter feeling of failure still clinging to his skin, he remembers it all.

But every feeling he recalls so well, so vividly, is so easily dismissed when her eyes shine with a painful tint, red from the piercing tears that she holds in them.

"My dad" she cuts him off, gaze now avoidant as he grabbed her cold hands in his, "he walked out on us not long after ...whatever hapenned between you and me. He never came back, didn't answer a single call, not even a text, no form of communication except the papers he sent in the mail so I could become Junnie's legal guardian."

I missed you, she wanted to say. I needed you she'd liked to add.

"That's why it's just the two of us now" she said instead, trying to find more words to stop the tears from flowing, like her words were the only thing that could hold them back.

Back then, Y/n remembers vividly the feeling of wanting to fall, to sink, to drown but still somehow keeping her head above the surface to hold on and stay strong for her younger brother. She wondered if Jaemin had been there, would it have been easier? Would she have let herself fall, would she have someone to give her a hand, to pick her back up again and hold her hand through it all? Would things have ended differently?

"I'm sorry" his words weren't new, they weren't special, they were the same as what everybody else would say but the fact that they came from him, Na Jaemin who now stood by her side with his arms wrapped around her, was enough to dissolve the feeling of emptiness.

08:25 present time

Y/n looks over at Minjun, still deep in slumber, smiling before she steps out of the room.

There's way too many toys sprawled out across the living room floor, a blanket she finds herself folding as she subconsciously begins to clean up. Her eyes land on the kitchen counter, wondering what to make for breakfast. She was never particularly good at cooking, but she'd been learning for her brothers sake.

When she gets to the black jacket resting over the couch, it hits her. She catches sight of her puffy eyes in the mirror, and a hand runs through her hair hurriedly.

"Why the fuck did I tell him all of that" she let's out a frustrated sigh, running her hands across her face, "I'm supposed to hate him" she reminds herself, though her tone isn't convincing in the slightest.

"You don't hate him though" Heeseung's voice comes out muffled, the toothbrush between his lips making it difficult to understand his words.

He had been the one to stay over last night, her friends still taking turns to accompany Minjun and her every night since he'd walked out of the apartment, a gesture that made her heart swell. Although up until now she was pretty certain he was still asleep. Clearly not.

"I can't hate him" she sighs, falling back into the couch "is it bad I want to be friends with him again?" she asks, even though Heeseung had retreated to the bathroom to finish brushing his teeth.

Regardless he pokes his head out into the hallway, a sly smirk across his lips "with benefits?"

Y/n rolls her eyes.

He emerges again not long after, smiling from ear to ear "no y/n it's not bad if you want to be friends again" he takes a seat beside her "you can only fight your feelings for so long, let yourself be vulnerable, take the risk and try again" he says, hands resting on both his knees.

"and if you're feeling really risky, you can always—"

"shut up Heeseung" she smiles, lightly pushing against his arm "I guess it is worth a shot though"

"he's right next door anyways so sneaking around won't be hard at all"

"I meant being friends. Just friends." she stands up, walking over to the kitchen "you down for pancakes?"

He nods.

"You know it could be good though, he's hot, you're hot, there's enough tension to make things interesting and it ticks your not ready for a relationship box pretty well too"

Despite the pointed look the captain offers him, Heeseung doesn't let up, and secretly, she wouldn't have it any other way.

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[kingkat12]

hickeys (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, mentions of sex, softcore-y smut, tw!bullying, Roman using his powers for no good, he's being so weird about virgin!reader, angsty fluff lol

summary: after having sacrificed your friendship with Letha for Roman's limited understanding of love and affection, you suddenly learn the consequences of your actions...

word count: 7,406 (you know me, not sorry anymore)

a/n: this is part 4 of my series seven minutes in heaven! click here to read; part 1, part 2, part 3! enjoy!!!<33

Roman had a hickey right on the side of his throat. Thankfully, I knew who gave him that one-- me.

It dawned on me that I had never seen him with one before. Despite how easy it was for me to get lost in the feelings of joy, finding a sense of pride at being the only one allowed to do that to him, I remembered Roman hadn't always been open to these sorts of things. He had warmed up to it gradually, with everything starting as a small incident at my place a week ago.

We had been splayed out on my bed, my face buried in his chest as I took a casual mid-day nap on top of him. It had become a habit-- Roman would come over, we'd bicker about something, then make out for about an hour until he decided to take his smoke break on my balcony. But today was different; the both of us had just finished a rather hard math test, so we were absolutely spent by the time we hit my bed. Roman didn't even have the energy to smoke, and seeing how tired he was, I decided to be bold and cuddle up to him; however, I hadn't expected us to fall asleep like this.

Weirdly enough, he didn't resist my advances. He'd usually start feeling uncomfortable as he wasn't used to affection like this, but today, Roman had his arms around me as I laid with my head on top of his chest. I had been a little embarrassed to wake up to the sight of a tiny puddle of my drool on his sweater, and I tapped the spot with my fingers as though that would make it go away.

Roman awoke, groggy. He let out a low grunt as he raised his head, trying to get a look at what I was doing. "Is that what I think it is?--"

"No," My words barely came out louder than a whisper, now covering the spot with my palm as I looked up at him with a soft smile. "Did you sleep well?"

Roman, being the stubborn asshole he was, didn't even register my question. "Did you drool on me?"

Oh God, this was mortifying. I figured he'd find out anyway; I slowly removed my hand from the spot, sliding off him. "Sorry..." As I rolled over, my back against the bed, I could only sigh. Being Roman's unofficial official girlfriend was hard, especially now that I didn't have any friends to discuss it with. 

However, there were moments where the hardships were worth it. Moments like these ones, where Roman now flipped over and unexpectedly snuggled up to me, his face hiding in the crook of my neck. "I've never been drooled on like that before," he said, his words muffled in my hair. "This is my favourite sweater."

With wary movements, I brought one hand up to his brown locks, gently stroking through them. I wasn't sure what the next sound from Roman was, but the closest thing would be a purr. "I'm sorry," I mumbled, my other hand running up and down his broad back. "Want me to buy you a new one?"

Roman huffed; "Don't be stupid. I'll just leave it in the washer here if you don't mind," 

"The washer?" My hands froze, no longer ghosting over his skin with gentle touches. "It will dry up in a second, Roman, get yourself together. And even worse, I might get the urge to wear it if you leave it here." I immediately regretted that joke the second it slipped past my lips-- in hopes of brushing over it, scared he'd climb off me and go back to being his usual self, I resumed running my fingers through his hair and up his back.

To my surprise, Roman didn't react much. The only thing I could notice was a rather shaky breath against my neck, almost as though he had just had a really tempting thought. Eventually, he spoke; "It wouldn't fit you very well,"

I did my best to shrug, although that was hard to do with someone on top of me. "That's not the premise," I huffed. "People usually wear each others' stuff when they're into one another. It's a cute thing."

"... So you'd want me to leave my sweater here?" Roman eventually propped himself up on his elbows, meeting my gaze. "Why? It's not like you'd be able to wear it anywhere."

It was in moments like these that I realized how little Roman actually knew about girls. He was supposedly very good in bed, but with feelings and affection? He was like a very aggressive puppy with gorgeous fur-- some men you simply have to train to be soft. "I'd wear it at home," I said, reaching out to brush his messed up hair away from his green eyes. "Especially when it's stormy outside and I'm doing my homework."

Something about my words seemed to be leaving small cracks in Roman's shell-- had I not been so observant, I wouldn't have noticed the way his pupils dilated or the way his features softened as he looked at me. "Would it be a one-way thing?" he asked; was I imagining things, or did he sound shy? "You get my sweater, and I get..."  Roman propped himself up further, taking a quick glance around my room. It didn't take long before his eyes landed on the plain, black hair ties on my nightstand, and he wasted no time reaching for two in one go. "I get these."

Seeing him so serious about this exchange was too funny-- I couldn't help the giggle building in my chest, suppressing a rather obnoxious laugh. "Yeah, I think that's smart," I murmured, stroking my thumb over his cheek. "Your hair is getting a little long... Would probably make your life easier."

Roman rolled his eyes, huffing. "It's not exactly like you have anything else lying around here!"

There was no way in hell I was about to tell him that my room was this clean because I had predicted he'd come over. "Okay, but it still works," I reached for his hand, taking the ties into my palm before rolling them over his fingers, watching as the rubber bands now sat comfortably at his wrist. "There you go!" I exclaimed, beaming up at a rather perplexed Roman. "Sweater, please."

It took a few seconds for him to react-- his eyes fixated on the black rubber ties around his wrist, and before I knew it, I saw slivers of pink appearing on his cheeks. I had never seen him react to anything like this before, and I had no idea why Roman was suddenly unmistakably blushing. "Fuck," he breathed. "That's cute." 

To hide his blush, he quickly wried his sweater off his body, throwing it away on a chair nearby before burying his face in the crook of my neck again, putting his whole weight back on me. "Promise to use it for dirty stuff too," he grumbled, probably to save face, before pressing a kiss to my neck. 

I was happy Roman didn't see how brightly I was smiling-- I would've been told off immediately, and he'd most likely retract right back into his shell. It was unusual for him to accept any sort of affection, and I wondered whether he had let anyone this close before. The more I got to know Roman, the more he was sleepy and babbling around me, I realized that I had to gradually ease physical kindness into his life to make our weird whatever-ship work. 

The whatever-ship I had sacrificed everything for.

And I would've spiraled deeper into thoughts about it, but the sudden pressure I felt against my neck made me snap out of it-- I realized he was giving me a rather hefty hickey, a familiar tingling sensation coursing its way through my body. I let out a satisfied sigh, my fingers burying themselves deeper into Roman's hair as he moved elsewhere on my neck to make a second one. "These will go well with the sweater," he purred against my skin.

I held back a shiver-- The hate I had once felt for him had quickly turned into whatever this was. All I knew, was that it felt good enough to distract me from the guilt that kept gnawing at me after betraying Letha the way I did. ｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

The next day at school actually marked a month since the last time Letha and I had spoken on the bleachers. A month of staring at her longingly from afar like a kicked puppy and asking our mutual friends how she was. It didn't take long before they all heard what had happened between Roman and I, and they suddenly became Letha's friends only.

I didn't know how lonely I would be after I chose Roman, and it was slowly breaking my heart. Being blacklisted by nearly all the girls at school was tough, to say the least. 

So as I rummaged around my locker, getting ready for my next class, I didn't expect Letha to approach. There was no way I could imagine she'd do that, especially after the way she had been denying all my attempts of reconciliation. But here she was, blonde hair styled to perfection, and her green, stern eyes meeting mine the second I closed my locker door.

I stared right back, at a loss for words despite opening my mouth to speak. 

Letha cleared her throat, pressing her books tightly against her chest. "It's been a month," she tried, something about her softening with the weight of her words. "I think I might be ready to... talk."

My heart jumped up like never before, immediately thrown into a feeling of ecstatic victory. "What?" I squeaked, unable to stop my beaming look of joy. "Are you serious?" 

Letha shrugged, biting the inside of her cheek to suppress her smile. "I think it's time to try, at least?--" Her words came to a halt the second I turned to face her fully, and her green eyes immediately found my neck. 

My hair had moved to behind my shoulders as I turned around, revealing the hickeys I had tried my best to cover with setting powder and foundation. It didn't take long before Letha's softening look became one of horror as she took a step back, clearly repulsed.

I immediately went into panic, piecing it together. "No, Letha, wait!--"

There was no stopping Letha before she turned on her heel, bolting down the corridor with heavy steps. 

I turned back towards my locker, pressing my forehead against it. There was no way in hell I'd let everyone see me cry in public again. It felt as though Letha had dug her hand into my chest and ripped out my heart, now squeezing it until it finally popped. My breath hitched as I stepped away from the locker, sniffling as I felt a sob build.

Just as I was about to leave and get to class somehow, the familiar scent of cinnamon entered my system. "What did Letha want?" Roman asked, his hands tucked into his pockets as he approached. His brows were drawn together in a disapproving look as he watched Letha disappear down the hallway in unmatched hurry, and I got a good glance at him when I finally turned around to face him. How long had he been watching me from afar?

Roman's glare quickly faded away when his attention shifted and he noticed the way my eyes had glossed over. His whole tough look disappeared within a sliver of a second, and I was unsure whether he noticed it himself. "... Nothing good, I see?"

I shied away from his gaze, my eyes darting down to my shoes. "She wanted to make up all until she saw... well," To demonstrate, I turned a little, showing Roman the once blank canvas which was now covered in about six hickeys that I counted last night. It was clear to me that my attempt at hiding them had failed.

Roman could only sigh, an infuriating grin now spreading across his face. "I'm going to say sorry now, but know that I don't fully mean it because... the sight of you like this is so damn hot," He leaned down, pressing his lips against my forehead as he took my face into his hands. I couldn't help but notice that he was still wearing my two black rubber bands just as my breath hitched at the loving gesture.

Something about the kiss made my heart skip, but another part was ripping at me; Roman clearly cared more about the fact that he had marked me than how upset I was. I hummed in response, not knowing what else to say before much later; "Don't do that,"

"Do what?"

"Don't kiss me like that," I mumbled, pressing my back against my locker to make as much space between us as possible. "Just... Don't." 

Roman's first reaction was on display with a stunned expression, up until his brows drew together in what I could only read as annoyance. "Fine," he said, teeth gritted. His hands fell down at his sides, trying to save face as he took a step away from me; "I'm just trying to make you feel a little better, it's not that fucking deep." In true Godfrey fashion, he also proceeded to storm down the hallway, clearly flustered after being shut down.

I had to take a long breath-- this was a lot to take in for one day. Roman being in denial about his feelings also didn't help much. I wanted to run after him, grab his hand and tell him that he could do absolutely whatever he wanted with me, that I'd love for him to kiss me like that once more, but I knew I couldn't.

It was hard to believe how badly I had fallen for a guy who could barely regulate his own feelings. Someone who insisted on making it apparent to everyone that I was his without actually wanting to put a name to it. I let out a sigh, watching Roman get further and further away. Something told me I maybe should've followed him, at least asked him whether he wanted to come to my place later and sleep next to each other, but my plans quickly fell apart when I witnessed the one thing I hated seeing most in the world.

In the midst of his angry storm-off, Roman managed to turn his head to allow for his eyes to follow a girl with an exceptionally short skirt passing him by. 

I wanted to throw up-- the hungry look in his eyes made me nauseous. Everything about Roman looking at someone in the way he usually looked at me made me want to burst into tears all over again. 

No matter what I felt for him, one thing would never change; I hated Roman Godfrey. I hated him and the way he made me feel like a stomped bug. Hated the way he'd look at me after he'd make me cum around his fingers, the way he'd stroke my hair away from my forehead with the gentlest touch as I fell asleep, and the way he'd insist on driving me everywhere just to spend some extra time together.

I hated him. I hated this feeling, and especially what it had done to me, my friendships, and my reputation.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

... Thoughts of my reputation went out the window now that Roman was back in my bed. Nothing suggestive, of course-- he was currently half asleep next to me. Even more heartwarming, was the fact that he still wore my two hair ties around his wrist, and I could get a proper look at him now that he was resting. I loved this feeling; we were both wearing the items we had exchanged.

"It looks good on you," he mumbled, tugging me closer with the arm he had around me. "My sweater. I thought I would hate seeing you in it, but it's not so bad."

My body was halfway on top of his, and I couldn't help but giggle as he pressed me closer to his chest. "Why did you think you'd hate it?" I adored the feeling of being completely engulfed in Roman-- the lingering scent of his perfume stuck to the gigantic sweater I was in, and his big arms around me made all my pain feel worth it. 

All up until Roman hummed, eyes still closed as his hands raked through my hair; "You wearing my stuff makes it real... Like you're mine. I don't know whether I want that responsibility,"

I could only sigh, unsure whether I should let my heart sink just yet. Sometimes, it was best to dig around in Roman's mud of a brain before settling for the version he wanted me to believe. "So you would be okay if I was with someone else?"

Roman opened one eye, glancing down at me as he raised a brow. "Are you with someone else?"

"... No,"

"Would you want to be?"

What an odd question; one he didn't need to know the truth of. "Would you care if I did?"

Roman opened his second eye, now scouring my face to check for cracks in my facade. Something told me he wasn't buying it, but that he wasn't about to take any chances. Eventually, he scoffed, rolling his eyes before closing them again; "Fuck off,"

"Fuck off yourself," I mumbled, burying my face in the crook of his neck. I tried to dull out the fact that his arm automatically wrapped itself tighter around me before I spoke once more; "Answer the question."

"Why?" Roman shifted, pulling my whole body on top of his, letting out a satisfied sigh now that all of my weight was laid on him. "It's a stupid question. Why can't we just enjoy this moment?"

He had a point, sure-- I just didn't deem it enough. "I hope you remember that I have a lot on the line here," I placed my hands next to his head, pushing myself up to get a proper look at him. Roman eventually opened his big, green eyes, and they quickly rounded out as they met mine. Everything about looking into his eyes made me want to squeal and pepper him with kisses; this was dangerous territory. I knew had to pull myself together; "I have, like... zero friends because of this. Because I chose you. And you not wanting to take on that responsibility or whatever it was that you called it, makes me feel like crap. You make me feel like crap." 

It was clear that Roman was holding his breath without thinking about it. He stared up at me, unsure what to say; "... All the time?"

"What?"

"Do I make you feel like crap all the time?"

That was certainly a way to spin it-- taken aback, I furrowed my brows as I pondered the question. "Not... all the time, no,"

Roman hummed; he seemed content with that answer. "I know you're upset about the whole Letha thing," he said, his big hands traveling down to grab at my hips as he shifted me to sit in his lap. "I also see that I'm not exactly helping the situation, but... you can't keep blaming me for your decision."

"... Okay," His request was simple enough-- I was ready to adhere to his wishes. "But then you have to say it out loud."

"Say what?"

"That you like me,"

I watched as Roman's eyes widened, his grip on my hips tightening. His whole body tensed up, unsure whether to speak or not. It was clear that he was conflicted about how to tread forward, and I held my breath the second his plush lips parted. Roman sat up, his back now supported by my headboard. Like this, I was sat in his lap with my arms draped around his neck, and he connected our foreheads with a sigh. Roman's words eventually came out like a slow, warm whisper; "I don't know what I feel," 

It felt as though my heart had lodged itself into my throat-- what? I was about to start arguing with him, cursing him out for dragging me through the mud for nothing, all until Roman suddenly reached for my hand. He placed my palm over his heart, his eyes finding mine as he steadied his breathing. "I don't know what I feel," he echoed. "But I know that looking at you makes my heart beat faster. Feel how hard it's going?" He pressed my hand further up against his chest, something about his touch giving away the sincere nature of this gesture. I hadn't seen Roman doing anything this romantic before, and everything was practically perfect all up until he opened his dumb teenage mouth; "I'm serious. It usually only beats like this when I look at pictures of Sydney Sweeney in a swimsuit."

That's it-- I groaned and ripped my hand out of his grip. "Okay, that's enough. You need to leave, it's almost midnight," In an attempt to climb off him, I almost made it out of his lap before his hands grabbed my hips once more, forcing me back down as I yelped. My eyes widened as they met Roman's, watching his signature smirk spread across his lips. 

"Where do you think you're going in my sweater?" he purred, suppressing a chuckle. "My sweater, my rules. Give me a kiss before I leave, at least."

I huffed as I snaked my arms around his neck, feeling his hot breath against my lips. "And why should I kiss you?"

"Because you want to?" Roman didn't care to try to suppress his grin, gently nudging my nose with his as his grip on my waist tightened. His voice dropped, getting airy as he whispered against my lips; "You want to so bad."

Everything about him made the butterflies in my stomach flutter-- it didn't help that his hair was tousled in a classic heartbreaker look, along with how ridiculously soft his lips suddenly looked. 

Roman definitely noticed the reddening of my cheeks, concluding why I had gone mute. "Don't be like that," he teased, not doing a good job with hiding his amusement. "Just kiss me first, for once. Have you noticed that you never initiate anything?"

I held my breath-- "I just... don't know what I'm doing," My confession was unexpected, but it felt nice to get it off my chest. "I don't want you to think I'm clueless."

"But you are?" Roman's chuckle was one of mischief as his hands shamelessly trailed down my body, now grabbing my ass as he pushed me closer to him. "It's not a bad thing. Just means I can program you to my liking."

I didn't even act as though I wanted his hands off of me, giving in to his antics. Something about the way he was holding me made me feel awfully warm-- maybe it was time to take off the sweater? "Tell me what you like, then," I purred, putting my hands on his chest. I figured that if I had gone down this route, I'd continue my path with conviction. 

Roman's smirk only grew, letting out a breathy laugh against my lips as he gave my ass a firm squeeze. "That's my girl," he cooed. "We'll start simple." He nudged his nose against mine once more, his lips parting before his words came out in a hot whisper against mine; "Kiss me."

His words were too alluring to deny-- I leaned forward, my hands carefully laying against his broad shoulder as I kissed him. A sigh of satisfaction escaped Roman, who immediately dug his hands into the flesh of my behind to tug me closer. Everything about the way he was reacting to me reminded me of our first date, and the way he had held and kissed me in the alley when we were hiding from Letha. 

The kiss was slow, almost lazy; something about the moonlight hitting us was making it more intense. It mostly consisted of small, loving pecks, and many pauses to simply smile against one another. I wondered whether he had ever kissed anyone like this before, with a softness I didn't see in him very often. 

It was hard to believe that this was the same guy that had me running around scared for him to prick me with needles. The only thing pricking me right now was the hardening of Roman's cock beneath me. With every twitch, every time his hands dug into my hips in an attempt to grind me against him, I could only grin into the kiss. There wasn't exactly anything sexual about this kiss, but he would always get hard from the smallest little things-- I couldn't help but find pride in it. At least this was another confirmation that he wanted me.

Roman eventually grew frustrated, now trying to rut up against me just for any sort of friction. With that, I grabbed the headboard, raising myself with my knees so that he wouldn't succeed. As he groaned, I had to bite down on my growing smile; the look on his gorgeous face was too damn thrilling.

Roman's eyes were round, his chest sinking with a shaky exhale as a rosy flush lingered in his cheeks. "Anything," he breathed. "Just give me anything. I'll take it."

"Anything?" I wasn't quite sure what he was getting at; "What do you mean?"

His hands grabbed at my waist, signalizing that he wanted me to sit down on his arousal once more-- perhaps that felt like a relief in itself? Roman stared up at me through his brows, his fingers digging into my flesh. "I'm not asking you for sex. I'm being nice. So I'm saying I'll take anything you'll give me... Even the smallest thing," He leaned forward, pressing a wet kiss against my neck which had me losing my breath within seconds, now whispering against my skin; "Just touch me." Roman's needy kisses trailed up my neck, jaw, and cheeks until his breath was hot against my ear. "However you want. Don't be shy, try it out."

Something told me that Roman was secretly into me being a virgin, after all this time of making fun of me for it. However, I wasn't about to say no to the opportunity to explore with the Roman Godfrey, and I eventually sat back down on his arousal, my cheeks flushing a deeper shade of red at the sound of his muffled grunt. 

My hands went up into his soft hair, pressing a kiss against his temple as my fingers stroked through his locks. "There's one thing I might want to try..."

Roman turned to nip at my jaw, his hands traveling back down to my ass. "Go for it,"

I didn't want to give him time to change his mind; my hand in his hair tightened, pulling him away from me with an unexpected roughness. I was about to apologize until I noticed the way Roman closed his eyes, and the way his lips parted in what looked like pleasure. It suddenly dawned on me that he might be the type to like a little pain, not only cause it. However, I wasn't ready to explore that at the moment-- I had another thought to attend to. 

Roman's head lolled back against the headboard as I leaned down to kiss his neck, and it was clear to me that he was enjoying himself. It was only when his fingers dug themselves back into the flesh of my behind that I got the confidence to pull through with my original plan; I sucked down on a particular spot, hard enough to leave a mark.

I didn't need to see his face to know that Roman's eyes were wide open with the realization of what was happening. I was ready for him to push me away, tell me off, tell me to stop-- but his arms only wrapped around me, pulling me closer in a swift motion that had me grinding up against his hard cock, and Roman let out a sigh of pleasure as he let himself be marked with a blooming hickey. 

Something told me I had to be somewhat special for him to allow me to do such a thing, and it quickly dawned on me that I had never felt this happy with anyone before, despite his shortcomings. 

I liked Roman more than I had ever liked anyone before, and I had an inkling that he felt the same. Who knew something so simple could feel so incredibly good?

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Knowing I had Roman wrapped around my finger, despite him not being able to properly say it out loud, had me floating around in my own little bubble. Everything concerning Letha suddenly felt irrelevant, and it wasn't taking up as much space in my mind as before. All I could think about was the way Roman had smiled at me as he passed me in the hall, the red hickey on the side of his neck peeking out past his shirt. The cherry on top of it were the two hair ties he still wore around his wrist-- he was enjoying this, wasn't he?

However, I was yanked back into the absolute shitshow I had caused for myself concerning my girlfriends later that same day.

My previous friends had never done anything more than glare at me from across the hall. Maybe the occasional overdramatic huff when they passed me, an extra eye-roll my way, and so I did my best to not pay it any mind. 

Which is why I was so shocked when the proceeding followed. 

It didn't bother me to sit alone at lunch-- not anymore, at least. I wasn't about to reach out to Roman to ask where he was and whether I could join him either; but just as I picked up my phone, ready put away my nerves and text him, my gaze was diverted from the screen and to the three girls that sat down in front of me.

I held my breath, my eyes widening with the realization that my previous best friends were staring at me with the nastiest looks I had probably ever seen.

Oh no.

Breathing deeply, I did my best to harden my gaze and keep my guard up. "What do you want, Jasmine?" I asked, putting my phone down on the table as I stared down the girl in the middle. Jasmine was the one I had liked the least in our friend group, and I wasn't surprised that she was the one to take action-- the rest of the girls always followed her like dogs, and it had always made me sick; especially now that they were sititng by her like docile animals.

Jasmine cleared her throat, leaning further over the table in an attempt to intimidate me; "We're just here to make you aware of something,"

"Which is...?"

Taken aback by my lack of reaction, Jasmine's eye twitched just slightly as the girls next to her grew more and more uncomfortable. "Letha told me what she saw on your neck this morning. And sitting this close to you, I see it too... Do you not understand how it makes you look?"

There was no way for me to hold back my sarcasm; "How does it make me look? Do indulge, Jas," I couldn't even hold back my grimace at this point. "Why does it even matter to you?"

Jasmine's eye twitched once more, and she slammed her hands against the table with a loud thud. "What upsets Letha, upsets me! I'm just glad I found out what kind of person you truly are, and it brings me immense joy to realize everyone is starting to catch on to the truth as well!"

Despite how hard I attempted to stay neutral, unaffected, and unfazed, I couldn't do anything about the way my heart sunk. I couldn't even muster up anything to counter Jasmine's words, taken aback by the bluntness of my previous friend.

"Letha really wanted to reconcile, do you know that?" Jasmine continued, an evil snicker building in her throat. "But it's fucking disgusting that you walk around like you're proud to be fucking Roman Godfrey, especially when you know how much you've hurt her. Fucking traitor!"

Before I could protest, she reached for my phone which I had left unattended. There was barely any time to pry it out of Jasmine's hands before she stood up and smashed it into the table, the rest of her posse scurrying away from the table before the pieces of glass could hit them. I didn't have to look to know that the whole cafeteria was watching this scene play out; it was only when I heard gasps coming from around us that I truly realized the extent of what had happened.

As the glass from my phone had bounced off the table, the sharp pieces flying in every direction, I had covered my face with my hands. So, when I slowly pried them away from my eyes, turning them around to identify where the stinging of my skin was coming from, my eyes fell on the three pieces of glass lodged into the back of my hands. It wasn't too deep, not enough to scar or cause real damage, but damn-- it burned like crazy. 

With tears in my eyes, I watched as Jasmine snickered, clearly unaffected by the fact that she had caused me physical harm; "We're ready to make your life a living hell," she hissed. "That'll show you. Fucking whore."

Something inside me broke. Usually, I would've fought back, I would've said something-- but I froze. Completely. I had never felt anything like this, the mix of both physical and mental pain turning me to stone.

Fuck. Was this truly how everyone saw me? Nothing more than one of Roman's countless whores?

I knew this would haunt me for the following weeks to come, and I couldn't fight the way my mind shut down. The need to get away overcame me; with shaky steps, I got up from my table, realizing I was about to leave school despite the day not being finished. 

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

I had avoided Roman like the plague for the rest of the day-- I was almost as broken as my phone. I held the pieces in my hands under the dim lights of my desk in my room, nudging the glass around on the table. My phone had completely shattered, now just a heap of technology I held onto for the sake of nostalgia in a deep state of shock.

I kept glancing at my hands, my fingers ghosting over the three thin cuts that had parted my skin. They were thankfully not that grotesque to look at, and I was quite sure I could play it off as a scratch from a particularly large cat if anyone asked. 

Or... so I hoped. 

I wondered whether Letha knew about what had happened. Did she condone it? Had she been the one who ordered Jasmine and her gang to mess with me? Everything about this situation made my head spin-- Choosing Roman might've been the wrong decision. I kept thinking about an alternative universe in which I had never asked him to kiss me in the first place, or one where I had told Letha about my feelings for her cousin before it was too late.

It dawned on me that I had mostly likely made the wrong choice-- how was I supposed to deal with this?

Just as I was about to toss the remnants of my phone into the nearby bin, I heard a few knocks at my window which made me turn towards the sound. There he was, the last rays of today's sunlight making the bronze hues in his hair shine through; Roman tapped against the glass once more, eyes round with an emotion I couldn't piece together from afar.

I walked towards the window and opened it, leaning against the frame as I spoke; "What are you doing here?" My tone was sharper than expected-- seeing him didn't exactly make me feel any better.

"You haven't answered my messages," Roman didn't seem to be in a hurry about getting off my roof, making himself comfortable by sitting down by the window. "All day. Radio silence. I'm not really used to that from you, so... just checking to see whether you're having a stroke or something."

I did my best not to roll my eyes; "A stroke?"

"I don't know?" Roman shrugged, his green eyes never leaving mine. "What other explanation is there for a girl not answering me?"

I grimaced as I watched his expression. It was impossible to push down the intense feelings of frustration when I looked at him, all my love for him manifesting back to its usual hate-- I wouldn't have been in this situation if I hadn't met him. This was technically just as much his fault as mine. 

Why did he look so confused? It suddenly hit me that he was being dead serious; he didn't get it at all. He genuinely couldn't find another reason for my absence. "Oh," was what I managed to say, clearing my throat as I sat down on the window sill. "Have you not heard?" 

Roman blinked twice, clearly lost as he looked up at me. "Heard what?"

My eyes darted down to my hands, which I had covered with the sleeves of Roman's sweater without even thinking about it. "I thought everyone would be talking about it," I mumbled. "I guess that's a relief, then."

"What are you talking about?" The green of his eyes nearly swallowed me, and I found a tiny trace of genuine concern behind them, so miniscule I could barely notice it. "What happened?"

I wanted to disappear into a heap of nothing; it was so embarrassing that I had let this happen. My pride was definitely trying to choke the life out of me. "My phone broke," I breathed, automatically reaching for the hem of the sweatshirt out of nervous habit-- I felt my cheeks flush, nervous to be revisiting the moment that had haunted me all day.

Roman's brows furrowed, unsure how to react; "You made it sound like something really bad had happened. I could buy you a new one, no problem," He watched me pick at the sweatshirt, now reaching out for my hands to stop my destructive fidgeting.

I let out the breath I had been holding the second our fingers intertwined, feeling the roughness of his hands against mine. My eyes rested on the black hair ties he still wore around his wrist, a blooming warmth igniting in my chest and wading through all my anger. I was so swept up in the moment, comforted by the way he squeezed my hands twice, that I didn't catch the moment the sleeves of the sweater bunched up and revealed the cuts on the back of my hands. "You don't need to buy me a new phone, don't be ridiculous," I said, watching a single strand of his brown hair slowly fall over his eyes as he glanced down. "I'd feel bad--"

"What's this?" Roman's grip around my hands tightened, now bringing them up to his face. 

It felt as though my breath had gotten lodged in my throat as I watched Roman's widening green eyes scan the surface of my hands. His brows drew together once more, thumbs swiping over the unhealed wounds. The touch made me hiss, attempting to get out of his grip, but to no avail. "It's the neighbour's cat," I tried. "I bent down to pet it, and--"

"This is not from a cat," Roman's gaze darted up to meet mine, suddenly a lot more intense than usual. "I'll ask you again, what happened?"

I tried to squirm out of his hold once more; "It's not important, Roman... Forget it, please. Actually, I'm going to have to ask you to leave--"

"Tell me,"

"No, seriously, drop it! Can't you just go?!--"

Roman's grip around my hands tightened further, almost to the point of making me wince. "Tell me," His pupils widened at an eerie rate, transfixed on mine. It felt as though his words were echoing through my head, and it didn't take long before I suddenly felt as though my inner monologue froze over.

And before I knew it, my mouth had a mind of its own; "They broke my phone,"

"Who?"

I really, really tried to fight it. Getting Roman involved in this drama was certainly not ideal, and I did my best to push away the urge to tell him; why was it so strong, all of a sudden? It almost felt as though he was controlling my mind, but it was ridiculous to even think so-- that was obviously impossible. Right? 

I eventually got around to answering; "Jasmine," 

"... Who?" Roman was beginning to sound like a really confused owl.

"Jasmine," I echoed. "Letha's friend. She brought a few girls over to my table and smashed my phone. Called me a whore."

Roman was silent for a few seconds, his face going unnaturally blank. "These cuts are from your phone?"

"Yeah,"

"And she did it because you're with me?"

"... Yeah," Did he just insinuate that we were together? I held my breath, unsure why my mouth wasn't adhering to my orders-- I so desperately wanted to point it out, but I physically couldn't. What on earth was happening?

Roman hummed, his grip around my hands loosening. "What else did she say?"

I blinked several times in an attempt to get out of the trance-like state I found myself in, but nothing seemed to be working as long as Roman's gaze was locked on me. "She said she's gonna make my life a living hell," As I sniffled, I realized tears were pooling in my eyes. I squeezed them shut, shaking my head to try to snap out of it once more. "I- It's fine, though." It dawned on me that the trick was to not look at him-- I finally started feeling like myself again. "I just need to talk to Letha and check out the options for a truce, or whatever."

As I dared to open my eyes, I watched his blank face. Something about the lack of reaction was unsettling, on the border of uncomfortable, and it almost made me want to squirm. It was in this silence that a thick, red drop of blood suddenly made its way down Roman's nose, and he didn't react when it met his lips. It was almost as though he had frozen to his place on my roof, and I couldn't remember the last time he had blinked.

My eyes widened, concern filling my body. "You're bleeding," I breathed, trying to get my hands out of his. "Let me get something for you, Roman, it's gonna run down to your shirt!--"

Abruptly, he got up with a quickness I hadn't seen in him before, still not saying a word. Suddenly, I couldn't help but notice it-- the hickey on the right side of his throat. One he wasn't even trying to cover up. Despite how much Roman kept denying wanting to be with me, here he was, getting up to do God knows what whilst quite literally baring my mark on his skin.

I watched him, my brows drawing together in complete and utter confusion. "Roman?" Calling out his name didn't seem to do anything; he let the stream of blood run down his chin, now dripping down onto his shirt. I could only look up at him, unsure why he was acting like this.

Finally, Roman spoke; "Living hell, you say?" His voice was low, threatening-- it was suddenly clear to me that he had gotten a very dark idea.

These sorts of proclamations coming from a guy who had an affinity for pricking girls with needles genuinely concerned me. I got up from the window sill, ready to climb out onto the roof to join him. "Come on, Roman, let's just talk!--"

It was as though he was on auto-control, rushing to the edge of the roof before turning around to climb down. My heart beat hard in my chest as I nearly lunged out of my window, hoping to reach him in time. "Hey, where are you going?!" 

I didn't make it-- Roman had already managed to land on the grass beneath him, his long limbs an apparent advantage, and he was now storming down my lawn towards his car. 

"Roman!" I yelled, crouching down on the edge of my roof; this was definitely not looking good. My mind kept racing as I gave up trying to catch up to him, burying my face in my hands. 

I was screwed. I was so screwed. 

(a/n: check out part 1, part 2, and part 3 if you haven't!! thank you for reading, more to come!!<33)

[kodared]

✰ Stanford & Borrower/Anomaly Reader ✰

fears not enough they have to tear him apart.

Chapter 3/?

Wordcount: 2,557 / 7,296

➤ Summary Based on the borrowers of many universes! I hope you enjoy it, and if you don't know about borrowers, let me be your guide into a world I've loved since I was young. ✰Written because I saw the severe lack of borrower content in Gravity Falls fanfic, i hope you enjoy <3 ✰ - ★Updates irregularly! I write when I want ★ ★ - Also on AO3! - ★

!!! CONTENT WARNING FOR VIVID DESCRIPTION OF PANIC ATTACKS. !!!

...

More than anything you wanted to get away from this human. Your hands finally weaseled their way out of his vice grip as you pushed at his fingers that held down your body. His thumb still pressed across your shoulders painfully as you tried to pry him off. 

“Let GO!-“ 

Ignoring his question you let out a strangled cry, if you weren’t so frantic and lightheaded you might have believed the expression on his face to be pure shock and awe. 

“I'm afraid I can't do that, you'll just take off running and I would like to ask you a few questions,” 

That was the point of being put down you quipped back in your head. Your voice lost among your emotions as you screamed internally, not wanting to give this scientist the satisfaction of a response. Your hands still pushing at his digits that curled uncomfortably around you. It was pathetic really. Being able to be pinned by the simple act of being held. His grip wasnt even all that tight anymore, adding insult to injury. 

The sheer power the human held over you just by existing made you dizzy and nauseous. 

He seemed to be lost in thought as he watched you push and practically claw at his pointer finger. He made no move to pin your hands down again so you assumed you weren't doing much damage to your dismay. 

That damned jar once again was lifted and set on the desk, before you could stop it you felt his hand tilting so your legs faced the opening. 

You tried to stop it by pushing a foot on the rim, but it was no use. All it took was Ford letting go and gravity pulled you down into the glass with a small thud. 

Your injured ankle took the brunt of the force, making you stifle a scream as you landed painfully into the glass. All the while the human just pulled his journal closer and wrote. 

Stumbling on your feet you leaned against the front of the glass, your hands balling into fists as you hit the thick and cold glass. 

“There, now that I'm not holding you does that help?” 

It almost made it worse. Atleast he wasnt picking up the jar and taking you down into his lab. 

He wasnt speaking, keeping his eyes trained on you and your heaving form. You could feel the beads of sweat practically rolling down your face. 

You were stressed. You could feel the buzz of a panic attack under your skin, your fists no longer hitting the glass as you tried to calm your frantic breathing. 

Standing was too much to ask of your body too it seemed as your knees buckled and you fell into the cold floor again. 

You only realized Ford was still speaking to you when you finally looked back up and saw almost a panicked expression on his face. Your ears rang painfully loud as you tried so hard to focus on what he was saying. 

Ultimately it didn't matter because right as you started looking up at him he seemed to panic more. Helpless to stop him you watched as he stood from his desk and you physically recoiled. Half expecting him to pick up the glass and take you down to his lab the moment you stopped being useful. 

He didn't do that though to your surprise. He just left the room. You thought that would calm you down but it didn't, the panic in your chest still raged on. 

The once uncomfortable buzz under your skin had now circled its way to your lungs. Your breathing was labored and frantic, the only comfort coming from the freezing glass walls of your prison as you pressed against it. 

Small droplets of tears glided down your face, leaving an uncomfortable dryness in their wake. You curled up as small as possible, your knees pressing to your chest. 

You had been caught. 

Your fate was sealed. 

He would drop you off at some lab for more testing if he didn't do it himself. He was probably calling someone to get you now. 

Unbeknownst to you at the moment he was making a call, but not a call to any scientist. He was making a call to the most brilliant mechanic he knew for help. 

…

It felt like it took forever for the human to come back. You didn't exactly trust your time perception at this moment though, he could've only been gone for a few minutes for all you knew. 

You stayed curled in your tight ball as you heard him sit back down at his desk. Your body is tense and awaiting him to do something. He was most definitely looking at you, no doubt writing whatever he could into his journal. 

You didn't look at him. Straining your still ringing ears to try to pick up anything that could clue you into what he was doing. 

You could most definitely hear his pen scratching away at a page in his journal. He wasnt speaking to you directly which wasnt as big of a relief as you thought it would be. 

Why did he leave the room? That was your biggest question in all honesty. 

A few more moments of silence passed between the two of you. The only sound was your strained breathing that you doubted the human could hear anyway. 

Your shoulders tensed as his voice was once again reverberating around you. Still in a whisper despite how loud it was regardless. 

“...It didn't seem to have any claws, how would It have survived in the wilderness.. Does it have some sort of venom? No, if it did-” 

…Ah. Muttering to himself. Honestly, the mark of someone who was completely sane was when they mumbled to themselves. 

You screwed your eyes shut as you blocked out what he was saying. Especially when he insisted on referring to you as an ‘it’. 

You were about to yell at him, to tell him to shut up when your ears heard a loud knocking coming from the front door. 

So he had called more scientists after all. 

The creaky wooden chair he sat on squealed against the hardwood floor as he stood. Your hands clamping over your sensitive ears before the panic that had just begun to dissipate picked back up tenfold. 

His hand reached for the jar. 

Denial. 

There was no way he was just going to turn you into the others so quickly. He had only just discovered you. Surely he hadn't taken enough notes yet to be satisfied. 

You reeled backward, your ankle screaming its protests as well as your lungs. The oxygen your brain craves so much is being exhaled much too quickly to be fully processed. 

His hand closed around the Jar. Making your body sway unsteadily as you saw the desk below you rising. The glass flooring heavily disorients you. 

Anger. 

What reasoning did he have to uproot you from your life? You weren't harming anyone. You were being turned into some scientist to experiment on you just for being born. You hadn't asked for this. 

You had just as much control over being born a borrower as he had being born a man. You didn't choose this life. 

Your hands hit against the glass as more tears began to go down your face. Hitting the floor of the jar with a faint clink. 

The human seemed none the wiser to your protests. His other hand going to cover the top of the jar as he swiftly left his room. 

Bargaining. 

Your whole body was shaking. The desperation finally made you find your voice as it cracked. 

“Let me out!- I'll talk!- I can-... I can tell you more! Don't you want answers? I can give answers!-” 

You rambled to yourself through choked sobs. The reality of your situation hits you like a ton of bricks. 

The human didn't stop walking to the main room. You both were now at the stairs when he finally acknowledged you. 

“We can all talk in a moment,” 

His voice was smooth as if he was zoned in on one task and one task alone. 

Depression. 

The realization that you couldn't stop him put a new weight on your chest as you fell into the glass wall. Not from your shaky legs surprisingly. The human just wasnt holding the jar with the most care it seemed. 

You tried to put on a brave face as he set your glass prison on the kitchen table. You were back where it all started. 

You should've been more careful that night. He should have never seen you. You should have never moved into this cottage. More than anything you regretted not being able to see your family again. 

You could hear the front door open as a second pair of footsteps joined Ford in the kitchen. 

You prepared yourself for the worst. So when you looked up and met the eyes of his colleague you stilled. 

“...You put them in a JAR?-” 

You hadn't expected that.

Ford seemed shocked at his assistants' outburst. Floundering for an excuse. 

“It was the best option! It didn't want to be held and if I put it down it wouldve-”

You could only imagine how rough you looked based on how the other human's expression softened when you flinched at the humans raising their voices. 

The other scientist Ford invited over had a very thick Southern accent. You never really heard an accent like his unless you counted the shows Ford occasionally played much too loud. 

Thinking back on it this human might have made him watch said shows. 

He took his thin-framed glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose. Agitated with his companion. 

“You called sayin’ they looked ill, it's not hard to see exactly why.” 

It clicked in your head now. Ford must've seen your panic as some sort of illness rather than the emotional trauma he was inflincting. 

“I wasnt causing it any harm! It even understands English, do you know how big of a find this is!” 

Ford was trying his hardest to explain his reasoning to Fiddleford. He only wanted answers from the smaller being. Fiddleford put his glasses back on and directly addressed the creature in the jar. 

You watched as he crouched down by the table, causing you to push yourself backward. Pressing against the glass as hard as you possibly could to put distance between the two of you. 

“M’terribly sorry for all this. Do you have a name? Mines Fiddleford. Fiddleford Mcgucket,” 

He didn't reach for the jar, he didn't even get closer to examine you. He just sat still, patiently waiting for you to respond. 

Ford interjected. 

“I already tried talking to it directly, but it gave me no response apart from when we were on the stairs and it was just babbling-” 

“y/n.” 

Both the humans in the room froze at your weak voice. Of course, it was rough and scratchy from your prior sobbing, but they heard it regardless. 

“Thats.. That's my name.” 

You could see the way Fiddlefords mouth pinched into a small smile. Almost one of pride at being able to get a response from you. 

Ford didn't look upset, but he most definitely wasnt pleased at the thought of the creature preferring Fiddleford over him. After all, he had been the one to discover it, it should want to talk to him. 

“Pleased to meet ya, I would offer you a handshake but… Well, I doubt you'd be able to shake more than my pinky” 

His chuckle soothed you slightly. Your chest still felt tight, reminding you of just how terrible you looked probably as you wiped your tears away finally. 

You even caught yourself trying to smile out of politeness before resting your shaking hands in your lap. 

You could see the way Fiddlefords eyebrows pinched together in concern. 

“Do ya need any water? How long have you been in there?” 

“I uh-” 

Neither of the humans heard you as Ford stepped forward again and let out a sigh. 

“I’ve only had it in there for an hour or so, if we let it out it could run.” 

It most definitely felt longer than an hour. Time must’ve been moving faster since you were in such a panic. 

Your body instinctually tensed up as Ford stepped closer. Making Fiddleford finally snap as he stood from his crouch. 

“I need a word with you alone,” 

He didn't even wait for Ford to respond before yanking him by the sleeve out of the room. Leaving you alone once more as you heard the front door slam. 

…

“Ford. Ya can't just trap someone in a jar and expect them to be okay. Mentally and physically speakin’.” 

Ford was being actively chewed out and by his assistant no less. 

He crossed his arms across his chest defensively. His hands tightened on his forearms. 

“I never hurt it! I only asked it a few questions, even the Gnome was calmer than it!” 

“The Gnome was an entirely different situation! You asked him if he wanted to come with you! You just found this… What did you call them?” 

“Parva persona.” 

Fiddleford ran a hand through his hair before reaching into his jacket and pulling out his tobacco. Ignoring the way Ford groaned to himself as the mechanic put a bit in his lip. 

“Whatever. Not their name anyway. And while yer’ at it quit callin’ them an it. It's dehumanizing.” 

Ford unfolded his hands and threw them in the air before gripping the railing of his porch. 

“Exactly my point Fiddleford! They’re not human! It's abnormal! By all rules of science, it shouldn't even be possible for something as small as it to exist!” 

Fiddleford spit a bit of his chewing tobacco off the porch before slowly getting more agitated with his partner. He could be so smart but so dumb most of the time. 

“What makes something deserving of basic decency Ford? Because ill tell ya’, its normally when they look human but smaller and can speak English. I think you even treated the Gnome with more dignity! You didn't trap him in a jar!” 

Ford didn't quip back saying he did put the gnome in a cage after questioning it for a few days to research it. He just sighed and looked off into the woods. 

“...I just don't want my discovery to run off if we let it out. If it runs I don't think ill get another opportunity for answers.” 

“Why not just talk to them? M’sure you could get them to hang around, you’d just have to accept getting answers slowly. An while yer at it stop puttin’ em in jars.” 

…That might work. If Ford could make some sort of connection with it he could get more answers than just interrogating it in the jar. Ford could see the look in his eyes and before he could stop it the other man was already going back into the cottage. 

With a heavy groan, Fiddleford spat out the last of his tobacco off the porch into the grass before following him. 

He had a feeling this would be a long night with no sleep. For both him and the creature in the jar.

. . .

TAGLIST: @i-am-tiredd

Thank you so much for reading!! More updates soon :)

[twst-drabbles]

Malleus 17

Summary: Most of Malleus’s day is spent zoning out while bathing in sunlight. It’s always fun to see his little lizard brain occasionally spark up an idea.

(I used to have pet lizards. Loved the way their eyes convey the absolute emptiness going on in their brain.)

Malleus hasn’t blinked for the past hour. He just sits there, on the window sill, face turned towards the sunlight as he stared into the lush yard outside. From a certain angle, he almost looks forlorn, like a doll abandoned by the side of the road.

If Sebek was here, he’d certainly be fretting around Malleus, trying to snap him out whatever trance he was caught up in. And Silver would whisper his concerns into your ear, hoping you’d give him ideas as to what’s wrong with Malleus despite being his owner for longer. And Lilia, cute bat Lilia, he’d be trying to goad Malleus into playing a flying game with him just to get him moving.

You walked over, leaned against the window sill, and poked Malleus on the forehead. He didn’t so much as twitch, his eyes remain unblinking. You pushed your finger against his head and watched as he practically became a wobble doll. You let go and Malleus still body rocked back and forth until he was stable again.

Malleus was still staring off into the distance.

You snorted. “Not a thought behind those eyes, huh? Empty-headed little critter.”

Bathing in sunlight always does this to him, like the warmth of sun soothed all the chaos in his head into nothingness.

There’s nothing wrong with him, Malleus was just zoning out for the moment. He’ll be back online in a moment. It’s always entertaining to hear the way Silver describes him, like this little pet was some always caught up in some grand and mysterious scheme. A magical genius so smart that his thoughts escape everyone’s comprehension.

That’s not quite it thought. Malleus is Malleus, and he’s more the kind of pet to get stuck on one particular thought or subject for weeks on end. All pets have different phases and routines, and long-living fae pets such as Malleus were no exception. He’s just slower to get to the next phase.

You opened the window. The wind gently blew right past the both of you, guiding the falling leaves and gently caressing your curtains. You took a deep breath in, and sighed it out.

Suddenly, Malleus’s eyes snapped wide open, back stiff and wings jittery. Energetic, excited about something.

“Oh?” You lowered your head. “Did you get an idea?” Are the gears finally turning again in his brain.

You scratched at his soft belly scales and laughed when he practically launched himself out of your hand. He was practically a rocket as he shot out the window, barely more than a blur as he flew in a pattern only he knew.

This month’s obsession seems to be dizzying flight patterns. All because Malleus witnessed Lilia’s flying right after he finished eating some of Crowley’s fermented peaches.

After a round of unsteady figure eights, Malleus finished with a belly flop on the grass, as Lilia did before. He got up, cleaned himself off, and fly once more. He’s nothing if not determined, that’s for sure. Still, it’s hilarious that he spent the entire day zoning out at your house.

Sure, you were a little concerned when he first did it, but you figured it out soon enough. You did as you usually do and let the pets do their own thing.

Maybe that’s why Malleus likes to come over here often. You’ve never been much of a person that fusses. Unless they’re putting themselves in active danger, you’re not going to bother them every single second of their life.

Well, whatever the reason may be, it’s still made clear that your house is a place to zone out in. You know you do that often. And, you will admit, you love the way Malleus's eyes go all empty like that.

[akutasoda]

"i found my heart, i found your heart, and it's still beating"

--you two were denser than rocks, is what dan feng thought. and now looking back on all those years you realise just what could've been, but it's too late now...

--warnings - gn!longlife species reader, fluff, pining, angst no comfort, mention of death??, two people that can't see the signs, maybe ooc, wc - 2.4k

--a/n: wowee yingixing fic! tbh i spent alot of time on r/blacksmiths when writing HAHA shouts to @milksnake-tea for the idea behind this which then inspired the whole thing... and here you go pookies @lowkeyren + @https-sourlimes i hope i did the wife proud!!

the natural heat of the day was nearly unbearable.

nearly as it paled in comparison to the blazing warmth that crept out the furnace and filled the air of the small workshop - although by now the lone figure was well used to the conditions forced upon him when forging.

he had a quota to reach. many weapons began their life being forged within these walls by his hands and died upon battlefields. most of his creations never lasted, all the time and toil spent making them just for them to be destroyed in the hands of those either lucky enough to make it back, or unlucky enough to not.

but a quota was a quota - more casualties would only be caused if he failed. a sigh escaped him as he picked up the last sword before moving towards the stifling heat of the forge and holding the sword in, patiently waiting for it to turn a glowing yellow and then removing it.

sitting down and setting down the stock flat on the anvil, he began carefully shaping the top of the soon to be sword. he stopped for a moment, the sound of approaching footsteps caught his attention and a part of him could guess just who was visiting him now.

wiping away the sweat from his forehead with the back of his leather gloves, he watched as you walked through the open door - it was never closed when the forge was going, the room would've turned itself into the forge otherwise. and with that he knew his time was up.

“done with the weapons yet?” your voice called out but he simply turned to flatten the blade, a smirk made it's way across your face “the marshall needs them by the deadline set you know?”

yingxing grumbled “as usual” speaking up to add “if they want them done quicker perhaps they could forge them themselves then?”

he stood up and held the sword into the forge again, holding it for less time than previously. clearly he wasn't in a rush so you prompted “how long then?”

“depends, if the marshall wants a decent weapon i still need to sand, sharpen, reheat and create the hilt” pausing before pulling the sword away from the forge and pointing it at you “or you could take it now”

his arrogance would be the death of you, but for now a smile graced your face before urging him to continue on - the marshall could wait a while longer.

unlike yingxing, you weren't accustomed to the conditions of the forgery and so the suffocating environment forced you to find respite outside until he was finished. if anything this was a usual routine between the two of you nowadays, the marshall would send you to collect weapons from yingxing but everytime he wouldn't be completely finished and so you'd wait outside.

occasionally you sat with him but the sweltering heat made it feel like the whole room would suffocate you and he often preferred to work in silence. he never took that long anyway, or if he did it was purposeful and you both knew so - at least the scenery was nice.

“it’s finished now, don't keep the marshall waiting longer or else we’ll both hear about it” his voice snapped you out of a daze, you turned to watch him sit beside you “fresh air feels nice”

“it's your choice to hold yourself up in that forgery for hours” pausing, you looked at him before turning back and scrunching your nose “least you could do is leave that smell in there”

he held back a small laugh “not my problem, now are you going to deliver the weapons or not, i've done my part”

sighing, you stood up and yingxing followed suit before leading you back into the forgery and handing over the weapons.

---✩

“your late”

yingxing fought the urge to roll his eyes “it's nice to see you too dan feng”

the high elder shot him a glance that landed somewhere between annoyed and somewhat relieved.

despite being the only short life species among the high cloud quintet, the furnace master was just as a part of the group as the rest - if anything, one of the most important as he was responsible for hand crafting each and every one of their weapons.

“im earlier than the rest, your too punctual for your own good” he sighed

dan feng scoffed “it’s more likely that the rest of you aren't”

yingxing wanted to comment on how it wasn't an important meetup, if anything it was a friendly hangout but unfortunately arguing with dan feng was a futile task that only got more depressing for him as he went on.

fortunately or unfortunately, depending on how he looked at it, they were still a group yingxing held dear. some of his closest companions to which he even looked up to. so even now, the silence was comfortable. the high elder was a comforting presence as despite his initial arrogance, he carried a deep seated care reserved to those he deemed important.

yingxing caught the way dan feng looked over to him occasionally, like he had something to say. eventually the silence was broken by the furnace master asking what was on dan fengs mind.

“have they realised yet?” was his response, it sounded rather uncharacteristic for the high elder.

but yingxing knew he was referring to you. ages ago he had consulted baiheng about the warm fuzzy feelings he felt around you and the foxian was practically beaming as she told him that he had a crush. although she didn't exactly know how to keep a secret and very quickly the entire quintet knew of his apparent “crush”.

baiheng was normally the one to bring it up so he never really expected dan feng to - the foxian was always very eager to be updated on the situation between the two of you. although a very prominent issue soon became apparent. you were quite dense toward the furnace master's advances.

“same as last time i'm afraid” he sighed, every single one of his advances had gone straight over your head. and every single time he reported back to baiheng who became even more puzzled about how to help him finally get round to you.

the high elder hummed “try being more direct then” out of all people, yingxing never expected to get relationship advice from dan feng. it was practically shocking. be more direct. was it really that simple?

---✩

unfortunately, being direct was more of an issue than either of them thought.

no matter how much yingxing tried to subtly hint to you, it always became lost in translation. even his more direct approaches were interpreted as friendly gestures or simple acts of kindness - he couldn't even get frustrated because a part of him thought it was cute.

every day baiheng would find yingxing sitting defeated in the forgery, his head in his hands as he tried to decipher exactly what he could've done better to finally get through to you. she'd always have to console him and convince the deflated furnace master that he could always try again.

no amount of gifts, kind words or actions that couldn't be mistaken as simple friendly gestures, could convince you. every time you found some way to see it as friendly and not a romantic advance on yingxing's part. not even the handmade trinket he made you that suspiciously matched his hairpin could convince you.

baiheng, and occasionally dan heng or jing yuan, would always tell him that he still had time - jingliu never really liked to get involved. they'd always tell him that there would be some way to get you to acknowledge his feelings. he believed them.

one day, perhaps he could build up the confidence to confess directly. to stop beating around the subject and come clean. clearly subtle advances weren't going to do the trick, but yingxing had the time to build up that confidence.

---✩

but yingxing had less time than he thought.

it was jing yuan that broke the news to you.

the grief was almost instant. a deep rooted part of yourself was convinced it was some cruel joke, an insensitive prank that he was put up to - but you knew better. the realistic, logical part of yourself was well aware of the truth but it was suppressed by the emotional side. the part of yourself that wanted to scream and curse the aeons, the arbiter, yourself, anyone that could've prevented it.

jing yuan hated to be the one to tell you. but no-one else would. he was hurting as well, having watched all his friends fall into despair, ruin and death. admittedly, he probably wasn't supposed to tell you but since he knew how close you and yingxing were, he reckoned you could be an exception.

it hurt jing yuan even more to leave you almost immediately after breaking the news to you. he could see how distraught you were but he was in no position to offer you comfort. although honestly, you preferred to be left alone.

you needed to process the passing of yingxing. well he wasn't dead, but jing yuan had told you how he was banished from the luofu - he was a short life species unlike yourself so you had to come to terms with the fact that you probably were never seeing him again. yingxing would die and you wouldn't ever see him again.

it hurt. it was as if the aeons themselves had plucked your heart from your chest and pierced it in front of you. that night, you cried. harder than you ever had in your life, clutching the handmade trinket that he made you.

---✩

it was hard to miss the news, the previous high elder returning to the luofu, stellaron hunters aboard - one or the other would lead to both being mentioned anyway. a scoff was all that left your mouth when you first heard, the previous high elder was dead. forced to reincarnate, the chances of his reincarnation willingly coming back was low.

the stellaron hunters didn't alarm you either, sure they were wanted criminals but confidence could be placed in the cloud knights and even the general himself. although it became apparent that it was the stellaron hunter you had to worry about.

yet again, it was jing yuan that told you. he was hesitant for many reasons. one reason was the fact that even though you both resided on the luofu, you barely spoke with him ever since the incident - he didn't exactly hope that your first time talking with him in ages was to tell you that yingxing’s new self was aboard the luofu, and a wanted criminal at that - and admittedly he hadn't told you the whole truth all those years ago.

another reason was that he wanted to protect you. jing yuan knew you would've heard about imbibitor lunaes return and the steallron hunters but he didn't trust blade.

he wasn't yingxing. the yingxing that constantly tried to hit on your dense self, that gifted you handmade trinkets often, that made you laugh. no. it was a stellaron hunter known as blade occupying yingxing's mara stricken body.

but you deserved to know. to at least be aware of the situation and so, begrudgingly, jing yuan informed you. what he hadn't anticipated was for you to immediately rush off in search of your supposed yingxing.

it didn't surprise you to find "him".

that wasn't yingxing, the “furnace master” that made you laugh, made you feel warm and safe. no, this was an abomination. someone who had taken the man known as yingxing and ruined him, taken him to the brink of death over and over just to come back with more scars that never healed, piling on again and again until he wasn't the same.

all that was left was bitter malice seeping into the parts that slowly ebbed away, slowly removing any semblance that could link “blade” to yingxing. would it be fair to even call him a human?

the only thing that could even link that monster to your friend was his attire. it was tattered and worn, nothing like how yingixing would've worn it - although rather admittedly his outfit was never “clean”, constantly dirtied by the consequences of forging weapons but he tried his best.

he finally noticed you, and as you locked eyes, it felt like staring into the eyes of a stranger. it was as if the mara had risen from the hands of abundance itself and ate away at the one memory left alive until nothing could be linked back. it forced it's way into his brain, stripping him of what little semblance of sanity remained upon seeing you.

the mara forced his hand, the one he desperately tried to hold back but it was as if his body was no longer his. you weren't from his memories but some part of him could recognise you.

blade knew you weren't his, you weren't even yingixing's but he longed to hold you in his arms. to be selfish and have what his previous identity couldn't.

it was a futile effort. his mara forced him to attack, in his eyes you were no longer an innocent bystander - you were a threat. to anyone else, they would say that blade held nothing but hatred behind his gaze. pure rage and despise. but to you, you could pick up on relief.

some deep rooted part of yingxing that hadn't been lost to the mara that encompassed blade recognised you. affection and longing could be found in his gaze, fighting to break through to the last conscious part of blade's brain. it was an impossible chance. so instead he hurts.

damaging the parts of you that a previous identity would've died to caress and kiss. no longer could you sit and wonder about what could've been. yingxing was gone. this man was simply a monster accumulated from the parts of him.

rest of the "series"

taglist - @little-miss-chaoss, @frankiesteinn

[xxanaduwrites]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ a residue series installment ˚ ୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

wearin’ that loved on look

✎ elementary-teacher!reader (miss.honey) x biker!benny 🏍️

summary: in which a drawn out engagement leaves honey takin’ matters into her own hands. benny may or may not break a rule or two, actin’ married sooner rather than later when seeing his honey wearin’ that loved on look ;)

warnings: 18 + only. alluded sexual content but nothing super crazy. quite more poetic actually. they are pretty much pining over each other. no actual smut here but i may write a part 2 if requested or interest ensues.

word count: 4.2k

main hive 🐝

💌 requests are open, send ‘em honey 💋

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

You were taking one last look in the mirror when that familiar sound of a rumbling engine echoed out on the street near your front lawn. Your stomach couldn’t help but twist up in a tight knot, your reflection staring back at you, confirming there was no turning back now. Your man was here. He was right outside, and it’d be cruel to make him wait a minute longer. Would it? Or would it be just the right thing. Sixty seconds to settle yourself. Sixty seconds to render your composure and pique his interest simultaneously.

All good things come to those who wait after all.

So you took your time – well as much time as you would allow yourself. Stepping over a lone shoe missing its match and an overall or two, you made your way over to the window to let your man know you’d be out in just a minute. On a night like this, you knew he’d keep the engine running, Itching to get to the club. Itching to get you out of your parents’ hair. Not wanting to waste a single second he could be spending with just you. So, it was only fair when you rolled up the window and hollered his name over the not-so quiet street. The sound of his engine was noisy enough to mask out the hinges of the old window panes attached to your house.

Not wanting to give too much away, you ducked ever-so swiftly as Benny’s head turned in the direction of your sweet voice. Once his eyes landed on you, all he could see was your small head, a mound of honey dewdrop curls planted up on your head like your own personal hive. And then you were holding up a finger, silently telling him to hold on for just a minute, and he of course was complying – still with a sliver of hesitance though. It was unlike you to leave him waiting. Especially on a night like this. A night that didn’t require hitting the hay early for rising school hours. No – it was a Friday night. An oddly warm and buggy Friday night, relevant over the sudden silence of his engine succumbing to the buzzing cicadas.

Mounting off his bike, he settled into a casual lean against it instead. However, his cool demeanor did not match the tumbleweed of thoughts rolling inside his head.

Were your Ma and Pa holding you back? Would they come out to talk to him? Were they finally gonna rip off the bandage and take away the blessing of marrying you he’d been working so hard to maintain?

Pinching his nose between his thumb and forefinger, he let out a much needed breath before fishing for his pack of cigarettes in his pocket. The urge for a smoke was unbearable and warranted, so much so, that when he lit the thing up, took a look around, and really settled with his thoughts, his concerns didn’t feel as daunting as they once were. Upon inspection, your driveway was vacant, empty – confirming that one or both of your parents had to be out on the town or out of it completely. It wasn’t unusual for them to trek to another state for a festival where honey sales were of great interest, and on top of that, well – you didn’t look upset by any means. That had to be a plus there. Could it? He couldn’t recall your smile meeting your eyes through the warm honey light shining from your childhood bedroom against the deep dark night….

He was just about to take another drag when the hinges of your front door squeaked in protest, your silhouetted figure crisp against the hall lamp light. Right before you were about to close the front door completely, you peeked your head back inside, practically cursing yourself as you smacked on the front porch light.

Welp – there was truly no turning back now. Your one minute time stamp was long gone. The hair tie, that you’d already regretted taking out of your hair, was haphazardly tossed on your vanity, and the searing porch light was now burning you like a spot light. The show had begun, and boy were you giving your Benny a show.

He blinked. Once, twice, maybe three times? He wasn’t sure. Hell – how could he keep count when he was looking at you. You – his fiance, top snug in a new denim vest, decked out in patches galore, and bottom – god your bottom – in a matching mini skirt, your smooth honey tanned legs on full display. With your hair scooped down, tossed messily in a side parted wave and your form lacking its usual layers of clothes, his eyes rounded out, jaw slackened, and his pants – well they started to feel real tight around him.

Little did he know you were nervous. Real nervous to come towards him. To be out in such an outfit that was so unlike you. Sure you were known for your signature denim and fun patches, but not like this. Not out of your more appropriate school clothes that consisted of long skirts and dresses, and of course your usual overalls. And hey – there was no denying that you wore shorts every now and then on your days off. The Chicago heat was no joke on those dense warm summer days. Yet there was nothing sunny about tonight, no – not in this darkness where you felt in competition with the moon.

As you walked towards Benny, you couldn’t help but pull your skirt down ever-so slightly, the barely there length making you rather uncomfortable and out of sorts. You could only hope you weren’t mooning your house, let alone your neighbors. The last thing you needed were your parents finding out you left the house with your ass out.

Funnily enough, your worry slipped your mind the moment your eyes landed on Benny. Eyes alight, he looked like a lost puppy, begging for a treat. So much so, that the cigarette dangling between his teeth lost purchase. His jaw so slack from shock, the cylinder tipped right out of his mouth and hit the pavement. You almost laughed. You really almost did, but you bit down on your lip before it could escape you.

You were relieved to say the least, and his reaction alone reminded you why you were doing this in the first place. It wasn’t because you were fishing for his attention. You always had it. Hell – you had him wrapped around your little finger, even if you were too humble and sometimes clueless to really think so.

But here, now – there was a difference. A difference because you were not only trying to reward him for being so good to you, but also because you wanted a little something more from him. Of course you just loved being his fiance, but waiting to get married was taking such a toll on you. You wanted to be his wife sooner rather than later, and it was no help at all that your parents were being sticklers in the matter. Practically ruining your plans of getting hitched anytime soon. It was all this and that of them wanting Benny to prove himself. To show himself worthy to your parents that he would be a good fit for their daughter. You thought it was all rather counter productive. Benny had shown himself worthy to you in many ways, and there was no denying that it perturbed you that your parents didn’t trust your judgment. You were a big girl, a fully grown adult, a whole school teacher, and yet they still treated you like you were a little one.

You didn’t want to be treated like that tonight. No – you wanted to be treated like a wife. His wife.

Benny was in the midst of reaching down for his fallen cigarette, too lovestruck and drunk off your presence to realize it was long gone and better off forgotten. Funnily enough, his peripheral vision was still trained on you, making you realize sooner than later that upon straightening back out, he’d have the perfect view under your skirt. The thought made you blush all over, warming up your insides.

Before his lean fingers could snag the thing, your wedged denim sandal found purchase on the discarded cylinder, the fire burning out as your foot stomped on it. “S’dirty.” You reasoned, those pretty sky blue eyes of his boring up at you in a way that kind-of reminded you of the little school children you worked with. There was an innocence there. One that was only reserved for you, hidden beneath a tough rounded out exterior apparent to everyone else. Yet, it wasn’t all innocent. No — not in the way his features twisted up in desire.

For a second you almost thought he was gonna take you right there and then, a nosedive right up your skirt that you wouldn’t deny. But no — instead you were left wanting, aching as he straightened himself back up, warm calloused fingertips brushing against the small remnants of exposed skin between your vest and skirt, hands materializing at your hips and pulling you in.

“Honey….” He drawled, a fun little whistle rather detached from his usual deep tuned voice spurring out of him. “Wha’ I do to deserve this?” He mused, planting kisses across your neck, erupting you in giggles. “Hm?” He pressed, squeezing your sides sweetly.

In your defense, who could blame you for being tongue tied when he was all over you? Pillowy lips snagging the delicate skin of your neck, soft and sweet. “Is tha’ even a question?” You giggled again as his teeth dragged against your collarbone.

“M’serious…” he murmured into your skin, stifling the growl that was bound to escape him. “S’there a special occasion I dunno ‘bout?” He tried again, but suddenly stiffened. Lips detached from your skin, as well as his warm breath. An indication that he was holding it in. “S’not our anniversary is it? I swore it wasn’t until — fuck, m’sorry Honey did I —“ his words caught in his throat, tangled in a web of self inflicted doubt, and you hated it. Hated seeing him like this, thinking he had done something wrong. Fucked up somehow. But you were quick — so quick in assessing the situation, your hands, fingernails decked out in your usual color of choice — ballet slippers — and Benny’s ring, still snug on your honorary finger since your engagement, circled around his face.

It took him a moment, but his scruffy cheeks relaxed against your palms in an instant when your eyes met his in alarm. “No, baby. Nah. Ain’t an anniversary or nothin’. Just wanted to show y’my love. That’s all.” His pinched brows smoothed out, and you smiled as you watched the worry flee his eyes. “Betty er —“ you began rather shyly, “she uh gave me one of her old vests, y’see?” You explained, dropping your hands from his face and onto the clothing in question. “Johnny’s got her a new one, so she said I could have hers. Deck it out. Do what I wanna with it. So….” You turned on your heel, spinning in a quick circle before sing-songing a, “ta-da!” like you’d do for your students when you had some sort of surprise or good news. Usually it’d be a lollipop for each after an exam. A congratulatory treat for completing such a task!

Your nerves were still running on a high, but you flashed Benny one of your grand smiles as you striked a little pose, jazz hands included.

When it hit you what you were doing, you mentally wanted to curse yourself out for putting on such a childish act. This was all about acting like a wife, not a child! You wanted him to want you just as much as you wanted him, but what kind of motives were this?

Thankfully, your mental battle didn’t last very long. It ended quite quickly the moment his mouth opened and drawled, “Hmm….C’mere. Lemme take a closer look at ya.”

You obliged without question. Without resistance. Without any sort of hesitation. His voice always tickled you to the bone, but this — this! This was something else entirely. Something that sent honey down below in deep measure. So you stepped forward, becoming caged by his observation in an instant. His hands materialized on your hips against the rough denim of your skirt all over again. It was like he was scared you’d walk away before he’d get to really look at the art in front of him, and god were you just a whole masterpiece.

You stayed silent, giving him the space to do as such, but you couldn’t help but watch him as he drank you in from head to toe. His eyes wandered over every patch, and it made your cheeks burn when he spent extra time on the ones that really resembled you. There were the cute little bedazzled bees and a jar of honey of course, but also an apple as a little ode to your teacher status. You stitched some extra flowers you had leftover from when you were sewing patches onto your denim overall dress from school. The one you met Benny in the very first day you saw him.

“Baby….” he hummed in complete approval. “Ya real talented, y’know that? S’good. Too —“ But then his words cut out in the midst of complimenting you, and you knew he finally saw it. The patch that was just the beginning to what the back claimed, but held so much more commitment. More devotion even. In the front, on the left upper side of the vest right over your heart was a patch, shaped in such a way — a heart to be exact — with the words Benny’s Baby stitched right into it. “Wha — What’s this?”

Your heart dropped to your stomach then, worry shooting through your veins as you scrambled to complete your next sentence. “S’just a — a lil’ something. I know you were uh — real hell bent about the ring thing. Getting me a proper one or whatever so…” you trail off, nudging your purse from your shoulder so you could open up it and reveal the contents of your explanation. Benny just stared, watched you like some fascinated kid about to be gifted a candy cigarette for the first time as you took out the matching patch you made for him. One that was more daring, more forward, and far more a symbol of ownership than anything you had on yours, as far as you were concerned. “I uh — I made you one too,” you tumbled out, hands shaking as you held it out for him to see. A similar heart. Rather exact to yours. The catch? It said Honey’s Hubby in your pretty neat stitched cursive. “And look, you don’t have to wear it if you don’t wanna. I know it’s kind of silly and all, but I just thought it could be our thang, y’know? Our promise to each other but again if that’s —“

“Honey, Honey….Honey,” he rumbled out soft, smooth, and sultry, all the same, bringing your rambling to a hault. “Are ya kiddin’ me? Y’think I wouldn’t wear this?” He asked, his thumb rubbing across the indentations the stitching made over and over again. If he could mold his finger print into the embroidery, write those same words repeatedly, eternally to show his devotion, he would.

“Well I, I mean —“ you dropped your hands dramatically at your sides. “The guys….”

“What about ‘em?” Benny pressed, pocketing your creation protectively over his heart before taking a step closer to you. “I don’t care wha’ they think. Don’t care what anybody thinks besides you,” his hand circled your side once more, this time pulling you in so you were chest to chest. “Look, soon when the times right,” he let out a frustrated sigh, clearly targeted towards your parents who weren’t even in the vicinity, ”on paper, in writing, y’gonna be my wife. But right here, right now, fucking on this patch, y’already mine, kay?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, your hands taking purchase on Benny’s vest, fingers trailing down the patches, down until you reached his belt, down down down until his breath caught his throat.

“Honey…” he warned, eyes drooping with heaviness. Heaviness in your desire and his own. It wasn’t that he didn’t want you. Hell — he always fucking wanted you. Only you. But he had made a promise to himself.

To you. For you.

He promised to wait. Wait to have all of you.

He knew he wasn’t a good guy. Knew he’d never be the good guy, but he wanted to be better for you. Do better for you. So, he decided early on — the moment he knew he wanted you to be his wife, that he’d at least do one thing right.

Sure you’d fool around. There wasn’t any way either of you could resist it. Not when Benny’s muscular arms appeared full display when a shirt simply couldn’t be an option on one of those super sweltering days. It’d be a sin not to have your hands all over him, feeling the warmth of his toned sun-kissed skin under your palms. And you — oh you, in one of your pretty little dresses, a rare sight to see on a weekday. Benny’d be kicking himself for weeks on end if he didn’t seize the opportunity, didn’t get to have his skilled calloused fingers up and under your skirt.

“Wha?” You asked innocently with batting lashes.

He didn’t move away from your touch, but stilled yours, his large hand encircling both your smaller ones hugging onto his belt loop. “Y’know we can’t….” He murmured, vibrated even. His words didn’t match what he wanted. You could tell in the way his bottom lip turned crimson as he bit down through all his restraint, and his eyes burned darker in the pale moonlight. And of course you could tell by the obvious bulge that was forming rather apparently in his jeans.

“Not right nowwww…” you trailed, pulling on the reins of his belt loop so you could be closer. “Lata, after the club. My parents ain’t home for the rest of the weekend. Won’t be home until Monday. So…Y’know what that meansss?”

“So that’s why y’dolled up like this?” He huffed, a big toothed smile in pure disbelief stretching across his gorgeous features. A rare sight to see. So rare that you almost thought you imagined his eyes crinkling at the edges in pure amusement. “To get me inta y’bed?”

Embarrassment dusted your cheeks in red heat. So hot, it left you shy in the wake of your motives. “S’not just —“ you stammered, trying to find the right words to say what you truly felt.

But you were frustrated. So frustrated. And Benny well — he was sure to fix that. Sure to get that stubborn crease out between your brows that waa forming in pure stress. “If that wha’ y’wanted, baby. Y’coulda just asked.” He mused, lips pressing against the curve of your neck, right near a sensitive spot he knew worked you up. “As much as I love all this,” he whispered, the warmth of his breathe sending a shiver down your spine as his hands traveled down your silhouette, “Y’could be wearin’ a potato sack, and I’d still find ya sexy.”

You understood what he meant, and you appreciated it. You really did. But that wasn’t the point. The point was much more emotional, more intense, more meaningful, and you weren’t gonna let it slip way. “S’not just about gettin’ ya in my bed,” you started, your lips parting and almost making you lose your train of thought as his lips edged the side of your ear. Your hands moved up the plains of his chest and you pushed him back ever-so slightly.

His lips detached from your skin in an instant and those pretty blue eyes of his locked with yours in complete attentiveness. “Then wha’ is it, Honey?”

“I know y’say I’m already yours, and I believe ya I really do, but,” you sighed, “why doesn’t it feel that way?”

“Wha — wha d’ya mean?” He asked, fingers pressing into your sides in a way that made you know he was the one gettin’ frustrated now. Frustrated that he could lose you. That you could just slip between his fingertips.

Reassuring him, you slipped your hands upward, looping them behind and around his neck lovingly. “I mean…I’m tired, baby. Tired of waitin’ to be your wife. And I’m sick of my Ma and Pa thinkin’ they can control us. Control what we want. Control our lives. Why let ‘em? When have you — Mister doesn’t let anybody tell ‘em what to do— follow the rules?”

You had a point. Benny knew that. It was rather out of character for him to be a goody-to-shoes, if you will, but this — this was different. This was him showing his honor. His dedication to you. Similarly to how he would to the club. Deep down you knew that too.

“I am too,” Benny admitted, his fingers relaxing against you, his admission draining the tension from his body. “As much as I’d like ta marry ya right ‘bout now, the courthouses ain’t open, and I know it’d break Betty’s lil’ heart if we went off and got hitched with all the plannin’ she’s up to.”

“Oh no — i know. I know we can’t do that right now crazy,” you laughed lightly before getting serious, “And y’know I’d neva’ do that to her. Neva eva.”

“Mhm,” he hummed, eyes never leaving you.

“I just wanna be close to you. That’s all. Never feel — never feel close enough, y’know?” Now you were the one with an admission.

Benny’s features softened in an instant, shoulders slumping against your arms. You could feel his resolve slipping in the seconds that slipped by your words. He went silent for a minute. Just a minute. Sixty seconds that had the gears turning in his head. But sixty seconds that would change everything once they were through. He knew you were right about the rules. He wasn’t one to follow them anyways, and besides in the long run would it really hurt to break just this one a bit? A bit for you who was wanting to do just the same.

You who was begging to be his wife.

If it was so wrong then why did it feel so right?

“Y’wanna be closer to me? Wanna feel what it’s really like to be married, baby?” He said suddenly, taking you off guard.

He pulled you in closer, and your heart leaped in your chest. “Yes,” you said as confidently as you could.

“Then when the club’s through, I’ll stay the night and you’ll have me, ‘kay?” The words you were longing to hear had come into frusion.

Your disbelief and pure surprise made you eager to confirm they were real. “Oh Benny! Are y’sure?” You asked, practically jumping up and down.

“M’sure,” Benny laughed lightly, his heart warming at the sight of you in genuine happiness. “As y’said, when have I ever followed the rules?”

“Hm…Tha’ my Benny…” you murmured before his lips captured yours in a searing passionate kiss.

You were so wrapped in one another, not realizing how long you were standing there, that it took one of the neighbor’s lights turning on through their window in your peripheral vision for you to pull apart.

“We should go,” Benny said breathlessly. His lips were swollen and puffy with a thin sheen of your lip gloss now coating ‘em. You had to stifle a laugh when you reached up and wiped the excess off with your thumb.

You nodded in agreement, turning with him to mount the bike, but at the last second you stopped in your tracks. “Wait Benny! I forgot to show you the back.” You exasperated, stepping back.

“Hm?” He hummed in confusion, not leaving his spot on the bike, mounted and ready to go as he looked at you.

“The vest!” You explained, spinning on your heel and revealing the back. In the center, around the usual Outlaws Chicago emblem, instead of a skull in the center, you replaced it with a patch that said, Property of Benny.

You stood there for a minute. Sixty seconds in your pose, and just when you were about to open your mouth and ask if he liked it, did you suddenly feel those all too familiar arms circle around you and hold you up in the air. “Benny!” You squealed when your feet were no longer against the pavement dangling in the air.

“That’s it,” he groaned, before swooping up your feet bridal style and walking across the grass.

“Benny! What’re ya doing?” Your eyes widened in surprise as you watched him walk you in the opposite direction of the bike. To your front door. “Wha’ about the club?” You probbed again frantically.

“Club can wait.” He said simply. “Actin’ married can’t.”

That was all it took — well that and his lips molding against yours, silencing every thought you ever had once the door closed behind you two and you ended up doing just what you intended.

Actin’ married.

Because even if it wasn’t legal yet, you were bound together spiritually by your feelings and actions alone.

You became his, and he became yours on a randomly warm night under the pale moonlight.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

authors note: i apologize for how long this took for me to update! i’m just glad my writer’s block has ended & i’m back.

but anywayssss i may write a part 2 to this ;)

also if ya new here hi! welcome honey & if you aren’t but haven’t yet don’t forget to comment if you’d like be added to “da bee hive” (my version of da tag list)

smoochies. all da love xanadu 💋

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[blossom-hwa]

a very fine line, indeed [8] | c.bg

pairing: Beomgyu x fem!reader genre:  fluff, angst, enemies to lovers, regency era!au, nobility!au warnings: mentions of assault, abuse, cursing, period typical misogyny word count: 11.2k notes:  — updates every M/W/F at 8pm EST until the series finishes — assault/abuse scenes are not graphic, but please heed the warnings and let me know if any of it is romanticized or just written in poor taste--I assure you I did not mean it, and I will fix anything needed. — inspiration taken from an amalgamation of different bridgerton stories - let me know what easter eggs you find! — story takes place in the same universe as my duke!yeonjun and earl!taehyun fics - check out the link to the series below for some more easter eggs :) In a society where it only takes a year for a young woman in search of a husband to be considered out of season, it is no wonder that by your third year out, you are desperate to marry. Known as one of the beauties of the ton, such a task should not be difficult for you—but with an absent father, no dowry, and a reputation centered around your inability to keep your mouth shut around one certain Beomgyu Choi, your prospects are more limited than you’d like. While you cannot recover your family or your wealth, however, the one thing you can try to control is your reputation. So when the third season rolls around, you resolve to keep your distance from Beomgyu Choi, your childhood enemy, and the man you hate most in the world. Enter Beomgyu Choi, second son of the Kensington Viscountcy, one of the most eligible bachelors in the ton. His older brother, cousin, and good friend have all recently married, leaving the mamas to salivate at his doorstep for the chance of marrying one of their daughters to him. When Beomgyu walks in on a particularly traumatizing moment between you and one of the most unsavory men in the ton and learns of your desperation to marry, despite your history of enmity, he proposes you a devious deal—to pretend to court you. It seems like a winning situation for both of you—more gentlemen will take notice of you, enhancing your prospects, and he will have the ton’s mamas off his back—and so, despite your misgivings, you agree. With you hell bent on marriage and Beomgyu completely indifferent to the concept, even independent of your hatred for each other, it seems unlikely that any sort of true affection will bloom. But as you begrudgingly put aside your differences to spend more and more time in one another’s company, and as you grow to know each other beyond your ill-conceived preconceptions from childhood, you begin to realize that perhaps you two have more in common than you had once thought. And as your faked acquaintanceship becomes more truth than fiction, a friendship beginning to bloom most unexpectedly— Perhaps you no longer need to convince the ton of the veracity of your courtship, because anyone with eyes can see that it is true.  Part 7 >> Part 8

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It’s been a week since you took unwilling part in the biggest scandal to overtake the ton this entire season, and you’re feeling more and more certain with each passing day that your reputation will never recover.

You thought the same thing at the beginning of the season, just a few months ago. At the time, you thought it couldn’t get any worse. Funny how time ends up proving you wrong. 

Of course, you have no idea how the ton is receiving any of the gossip. You know the facts, as does everyone else who was in the room when it all happened, but that doesn’t matter. Someone will undoubtedly distort them for the sake of a good story. Your stepmother has been refusing all calls on your behalf, though, so you have no clue what the ton is saying. It’s not like she would tell you, anyway. The morning after the Jung ball she slapped you across the face so hard you saw stars, and you had to listen to her scream at you for an hour after that. When you tried to ask her what people were saying about you a few days ago, she gave you another mark to match the first one.

The bruises still hurt to the touch. 

Maybe it’s just as well. You’re not sure you want to know what anyone is saying. The gossip about you and Beomgyu had hardly abated before the Jung ball, and with all the speculation then about you being sort of shameless whore able to seduce men into offering you marriage proposals, you can only imagine what they’re saying about you now. They probably think you seduced Lord Cho, too. 

They probably think you deserved whatever he intended to do to you. 

Which isn’t true. You never asked for any sort of physical relationship with him, never even considered it. You said no when he offered it—if the word offered could even describe the situation. Stupid as it is, you really did believe he wanted to marry you, and his words cut you deep when you learned of his true intentions. But the cynical part of you can’t help but feel like you got what was coming to you. You should have known better—known that no one would truly ever want to marry you, because you have nothing to offer. Maybe it’s true that you aren’t fit for anything more than a mistress. 

If you didn’t have so much damn pride, maybe you’d have been able to accept that by now. 

You can forget any delusions of being married, now. If you weren’t already ruined by Beomgyu leaving you after the waltz, surely this incident has marked you as a fallen woman—or at least as close to it as you can get without having actually been deflowered. Never mind that you never asked for it. Never mind that you had to beat him off with a damn candlestick. No one wants a woman who’s been sullied by another man’s touch, no matter how unwarranted. 

Maybe it’s really time for you to start making plans to run away. 

Even as the thought crosses your mind, though, you have to stifle a snort. Pausing in the middle of scrubbing out a large pot, you close your eyes for just a moment, hoping to clear out all of your remaining stupid thoughts. Run away, yes? With what money? You have nothing. This family has nothing. There’s nothing useful you can even steal from the house, and your father isn’t coming back with any money. This, you know now. 

You can still hear the terrible silence that accompanied the opening of that letter. Your stepmother’s simmering rage as her eyes scanned every carefully penned line that told of the passing of your father, and the loss of any remnants of the family fortune at the hands of his gambling addiction. You had no idea he had such an addiction. The few times you saw him over the past decade, he always seemed so stoic, so upright. You never thought he could have been hiding something so terrible behind that façade. 

But he was. And now he is dead, and he has passed nothing onto you except a mountain of terrible fortune. 

There’s really no end to it. You sigh, returning to the pot still half covered in suds in the sink. Maybe this is for the better. You’ll grow into a spinster, hide yourself from society with your position as a servant in this household, and fade away from public attention. In a few years, people will forget about everything. Maybe. Hopefully. And then you’ll have some peace of mind. 

…There’s no real hope of that, though. You’ll never have peace as long as you live with your stepmother. Maybe that’s your eternal punishment for all the stupid choices you made this season—having to live with her until she dies, or you do. 

At least she’s gone now. She left a while ago to make some morning calls, you think. You tried to ask who she was going to meet and she just snapped that she was trying to clean up the mess you had made of yourself and your family this season. 

Very useful information, that was. You didn’t press though. You didn’t want to add on to the collection of bruises already beginning to bloom across your cheek. 

She’s gone now, though, and you haven’t heard her return, so you have some time to breathe without her sneering down her nose at you every minute of the day. The silence is nice even if you know it’ll be short lived.

Something sounds in the hall as you’re scrubbing the last pot clean. You stiffen, thinking it might be your stepmother, but it still feels like it hasn’t been long since she left—surely she wouldn’t be back so soon? You look over at Soyoung, who’s helping you scrub away. Her raised eyebrow indicates she’s as confused as you are.

Footsteps sound down the hallway, and then you hear Brighton speaking. Your confusion increases by the second—surely no one has any reason to call, not when your stepmother has been chasing away callers almost every day. You wonder if Brighton will have them leave too, whoever they are, but he likely won’t. Without your stepmother here, he would probably defer to you, unless she left him with explicit instructions not to. Though he might disobey them anyway. The staff here don’t take very kindly to your stepmother. 

The thought makes you smile, but that smile quickly begins to drop as Brighton’s characteristic light footsteps sound closer and closer to the kitchen. You finish rinsing off the last pot just as he enters the kitchen, standing primly in the doorway. 

“Miss L/N.” 

You turn around, wiping your hands on your apron. “Yes, Brighton?”

A hint of distaste edges his words. “Mr. Choi has come to call.”

Despite the situation, you almost smile. You can’t say you don’t appreciate the staff’s quiet support at your situation. No doubt they’ve heard all manner of gossip from the other servants around town, but you told Soyoung what truly happened so your staff has been very kind to you since everything started going downhill. Brighton in particular has taken to speaking the Choi name with a subtle, almost undetectable annoyance that only butlers can emulate, and you won’t deny that it makes you feel a little better, sometimes. Not because you hate Beomgyu—you wish you could hate him, it would make everything so much easier—but because it’s nice to know that someone has your back.

The almost smile slips off your face almost as easily as it came, though. Because you really don’t know if you want to see him. He was right about Lord Cho, right from the start—and all you and everyone else did was just brush his concern off as jealousy. You don’t want to face him. You don’t want to know what he has to say. And truth be told, you’re still not entirely sure you forgive him for what he did at the Haynesworth ball. He tried to explain when he called the last time. You didn’t let him. You’re still not sure if you want to let him. Anger is the only shield you have now against your pain and you’re not ready to give up its embrace so soon, even if its warmth is more suffocating than nourishing. 

There is another warmth that is nourishing, though. A warmth you’ve only ever felt with those you loved. Delia, Henry, Soyoung…

And Beomgyu, too.

All of the residual anger drains out of your body, leaving you cold and a little empty. You look down at yourself, at your dirty servant’s garb splashed with water and soap, at your tender hands still holding a sponge covered in suds. You should hear him out, let him speak, but you’re just…so tired. You want this all to be over. And anyway, even if you knew you wanted to speak with him, you don’t know when your stepmother will return from her own morning calls—calls meant to repair your reputation, whatever the hell that means. She might come back in the middle of a conversation and you really don’t want to know what would happen then. 

That’s just an excuse, though. You know that just the thought of your stepmother wouldn’t be able to stop you from doing anything you really wanted to. The question is, then, do you really want to see Beomgyu? Do you really?

“For what it is worth,” Brighton says, interrupting your thoughts, “he has tried to call every morning since the Jung ball, Miss L/N.” He twists his hands together in an uncharacteristic show of uncertainty. “Your stepmother turned him away each time, but…perhaps he truly does have something to say.”

Every morning since the Jung ball. You blink. That’s…dedication. It reminds you an awful lot of how he tried to see you almost every day for a week after the Haynesworth ball, which in turn reminds you of that terrible last conversation you shared with him. He had wanted to explain himself. You hadn’t let him. Instead, you’d told him never to come back and he had heeded your words then, but now he’s returned. 

Part of you still hurts at what he did to you—or rather, what he didn’t do. Even now you can still call up some of that anger and you try to wrap it around you like a cloak, but it isn’t doesn’t work anymore. There isn’t enough anger left to shield you, which just leaves you open. Raw. Vulnerable to your emotions. 

The emotions telling you to listen to him this time, instead of just sending him away. 

You stare at your hands. You know that Beomgyu wouldn’t hold it against you if you told him to leave. He wouldn’t argue. He would give you space. And you really, really hate that. If he wasn’t so honorable, it would be so much easier to hate him. You would never have fallen in love with him in the first place. 

Life would be so much easier, then. 

But he is honorable. You may still be angry at what he did at the Haynesworth ball, but you also have the grudging grace (or maybe the idiocy) to understand that one mistake does not dictate a person’s entire character. You remember Beomgyu holding you as you shook so badly in his arms just moments after Lord Cho had tried to lay his hands on you, and you can’t help but recall how safe you felt in his hold. Not completely so—Lord Cho was right there, obviously you wouldn’t feel completely fine—but Beomgyu lent a steadiness to the moment that you needed, desperately. You trusted him without thinking. Without even feeling. 

Maybe that says something. Maybe that says a lot of things. 

You swallow hard. He’s already in your house. He’s come by every day, even though he’s been turned away each time—not by your choice, but by your stepmother’s. This might be the only chance you get to hear him out. 

You’d be a fool not to take it.

“Do you know when my stepmother will be back?” you ask quietly. 

“She left not long ago,” Brighton replies. “I do not know for certain, but I would estimate you have at least two hours before she returns.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. Two hours is likely enough time to talk. Sabine is taking care of the children in the nursery, which leaves Soyoung or Brighton to chaperone. You don’t have time to change or to cover up the marks on your cheek, but you don’t really want to. Part of you wants to approach Beomgyu with this part of yourself on display. To let him see you as you are. 

You stand up and take a deep breath. “Then bring him in.”

. . . . .

When your butler bids him to come inside, Beomgyu has to bite his tongue to stifle his shock. It’s been a week since the Jung ball and though he’s called every morning since then, the response has always been the same—that you aren’t taking visitors, and won’t be for the near future. The setup feels eerily familiar to when he tried to see you after the Haynesworth ball, though he supposes that is just what comes with scandal. The ton’s memory is like that of a goldfish. Once something else happens, they move on quickly. 

In theory, at least. In practice, the memories stick around for a bit longer than gossip suggests. 

Today, though, the butler—Brighton, he thinks—allows him inside. Before shutting the door, Beomgyu sees him cast a furtive glance towards the street, which leads Beomgyu to believe he might not actually be allowed to be here. Still, he appreciates being let in so he doesn’t comment as the butler leads him through the short hallway and into the drawing room. He then disappears to find you.

It seems to take forever for the butler to return, or at least for Beomgyu to hear any sounds indicating you might actually see him. He half expects to be told to leave and honestly, he wouldn’t blame you for it. He can’t really think of a reason why you would want to see him in the first place, but he just wants to make sure you are all right. Or as all right you can be after what happened. 

God, he really wishes he had done Lord Cho’s face in. The man would have deserved it—just one quick punch to break his nose. But then Beomgyu wouldn’t have been there to catch you when the shock set in and you nearly fell, your entire body trembling as you sank into his arms. Anyway, you already hit Lord Cho over the head with that silver candlestick, and that gave Beomgyu more than enough satisfaction to witness. 

Footsteps sound down the hall—more than one pair, it seems. Beomgyu straightens where he stands and his heart begins to race as you step into the room. 

He almost gasps but bites his tongue just in time. In all the times he’s seen you, you’ve never not been dressed for society—fine gowns, light jewelry, pretty smiles. Now, though, Beomgyu almost doesn’t recognize you. 

Dressed in a plain servant’s garb, apron still damp and slightly stained, you stare back at him, expressionless. Your hands are bare, cracked and raw, and a bruise swells dark on your cheek. Anger twists in Beomgyu’s stomach when he realizes it looks very much like the mark left if someone had hit you. There’s no doubt it was your stepmother. 

You seem to track his gaze, unsurprised at whatever you find in his expression. Something hard glints in your eyes and Beomgyu recognizes it as a test. You could have made him wait for you to change, to get ready for a typical call, but you didn’t. You chose to show yourself like this, rags and calluses and all, for a reason.

Well, if this is a test, then he will do all he can to pass it. Beomgyu holds himself tall and bows just as he always has even though the bruise on your cheek makes him want to throttle something. “Miss L/N,” he says in greeting. 

You look back at him steadily for a moment. Then suddenly your shoulders slump, as though you can’t hold yourself up anymore. “Mr. Choi,” you say wearily. “Why are you here?”

Your refusal to call him by his given name hurts more than it should, but Beomgyu forces the pain to pass. It’s no less than he deserves. “I wanted to see if you were all right,” he replies quietly. 

As the words come out of his mouth, he realizes how stupid they are. Obviously you aren’t fine. After what happened, no one in your situation would have been fine. The evidence is staring him right in the face—even if it weren’t for the bruise, the weariness on your face speaks volumes. 

“Well, you have seen me.” The corners of your lips lift slightly, though there is no mirth in the movement. “If that is all, I will be going now.” You turn around as though to leave. 

Beomgyu moves before he even realizes it. You flinch when he catches your wrist, but to his surprise, you don’t pull away. Not immediately. “Y/N,” he says, and you seem to shudder in his hold like when he held you that night. “Please.”

You remain silent for a moment. “Please, what, Mr. Choi?” you ask harshly. “You got what you wanted. You saw me. What else could you need?” You laugh. The sound scratches at Beomgyu’s ears. “Do you want to gloat? Over the fact that you were right about Lord Cho, and I wasn’t? Because that’s low, low even for you—”

Beomgyu takes a small step forward and you cut yourself off. He lets your words pass over him—you’re angry. Maybe even frightened. You’ve spat insults at him before that you actually meant, so Beomgyu knows the difference between that and you simply lashing out from your pain. “I didn’t come to gloat,” he says quietly. 

Your expression crumples. “Then why are you here?”

“I wanted to apologize.” His next words come unbidden. “And I wanted to ask if you would marry me.”

A long pause follows his unplanned declaration. Beomgyu doesn’t panic, though. Because even though he hadn’t intended to give his proposal right then and there, he still meant the words. They just came out a little early. 

“Why?” you finally ask. 

Beomgyu’s heart nearly breaks at your shattered expression, the obvious exhaustion written all over your face. You didn’t deserve this—none of it. If only he hadn’t been such an idiot, if only he hadn’t run away instead of facing his feelings earlier… “Because I love you,” he says, voice trembling. “And if you will allow me, I should like to explain.”

He watches you swallow, throat bobbing as you look down at where his hand still clasps your wrist. You keep looking there for a very long time. “Then explain,” you finally allow, but you don’t look back up at him. 

Beomgyu tries to hide how much that hurts him. It isn’t as though he has a right to feel hurt, anyway. “I am…incredibly sorry for what I did. Or what I didn’t do, I suppose.” He swallows. “I am well aware that no verbal apology of mine could ever make up for leaving you at the Haynesworth ball and I do not intend to make excuses.”

Your eyes finally shift up to his. There’s nothing in your gaze, nothing to give any indication that what he’s saying is right, but Beomgyu has been a coward long enough and he won’t continue that streak now. “I should not have asked you to waltz.” 

Your gaze shutters immediately and you go to pull away. Beomgyu almost panics and tugs your wrist back. “I did not mean it that way,” he says quickly. “I only meant…I was not proper. I should have asked if you had permission first. I should have asked if you were fine with it. I should have remembered the social repercussions of asking you to share such a dance.”

You jerk your wrist out of his hand, but you don’t leave. “Then why didn’t you?” you ask sharply. 

Beomgyu winces. There’s really no way to make “Lord Cho smirked at me which made me extremely upset” sound any better than that, but he has to try. “I was already upset that Lord Cho had been keeping your attentions the entire evening,” he says. Embarrassment creeps its way up his neck. “I was jealous. And at some point, when I was about to just leave the whole affair all together, he…gave me a look, that made me believe he was doing this on purpose. That he had been keeping you engaged the entire evening to avoid me.” The words, once they leave his lips, sound entirely self-serving and rather egotistic. But he swore to himself he would honest and, well, this is what he felt. “I probably sound rather self-centered,” he admits. “But it seemed that way to me.”

You don’t say anything. You hardly react, even. Beomgyu supposes this is at least better than if you were to scoff at him immediately. “I wanted to dance with you,” he says quietly. “I had waited several hours that night just for the hope of speaking to you. I did not realize it was a waltz before we took to the ballroom floor, but even then, at first, I truly did not care. In fact, I was enjoying it. You…you were so beautiful. You always have been.” He swallows. “But there was a moment where we met eyes and I…it hit me then. That I was in love with you.”

You’ve gone as still as a statue. Only your eyes move, warily tracking his every movement. 

“I was scared. Terrified.” Beomgyu clenches his hands at his sides and feels his nails biting sharply into his palms. “I suppose I had some inkling of it before, but I refused to think of it. I was too scared to—I had hated you for so long and we’d only been civil for a few months. I thought, surely, it could not be so. I could not love you in such a short time. But as we were dancing, and as I held you so…” Against his will, his eyes drift to your lips. “I remembered our kiss,” he says quietly. ��And I knew, then, that I loved you.”

This time, you do scoff. “You have a funny way of showing it,” you say, bitterness coating every word. 

Beomgyu flinches, but it isn’t as if your words aren’t deserved. “I was a coward,” he admits. “An incredible coward. I realized it then and I couldn’t face it. I couldn’t think with everyone around us and I was so confused and terrified by the prospect of loving you that I just…ran.” He drops his head, finally. 

“You were so scared of loving me.” You snort. “Me. Yes. Because I’m just another one of the dowry-less crowd, full of scandal and Lady Whistledown mentions. Who in their right mind would ever fall in love with me?”

“It wasn’t because of that!” Beomgyu looks up at you, stricken. “Y/N—Miss L/N—do you have any idea how impressive you are?”

For the first time today, you look shocked into speechlessness. Beomgyu’s own face is starting to redden but he forges on. “You—I was terrified of how quickly I had fallen in love with you,” he gets out. “For weeks after we kissed, I couldn’t stop dreaming of it. I wanted to kiss you again. So badly. And it was—terrible. I wanted to be around you and only you. I was jealous of Lord Cho and anyone who seemed to be interested in asking for your hand. But I just could not believe I was in love with you, because you are…well, you.” He gestures vaguely. “Sweet, kind, intelligent, witty…”

God, the more he talks, the stupider he feels for not having realized his feelings sooner. 

“You are you, Miss L/N,” Beomgyu says. “Incredibly lovely and impressive, extraordinarily strong and brave.” A wave of shame washes over him at the truth of his words. You apologized first. You asked to be friends first. Every step of your relationship beyond the first fake deal was initiated by you, and the moment he realized his feelings, all he did was run. “I was terrified of how deeply I had fallen for you,” he says quietly. “Terrified of how much I felt for you in such a short time. It was cowardly of me to run. I should have stayed with you, and I will forever regret that. In the moment, though…it was too much for me to process all at once” He takes a deep breath. “I don’t expect you to forgive me for it. But that is my explanation, in the end. As idiotic as it sounds.”

You look away for a moment. Your cheek turns to him, and again Beomgyu sees the bruise your stepmother left on your skin. The momentary anger bolsters him enough to meet your gaze when you turn back to him. “I trusted you, you know.” More than your words, the exhaustion in your voice strikes Beomgyu to the core. “I trusted you to know the dance, and what it would mean to the ton. What it would mean to me.” You laugh slightly, but there is no humor in the sound. “I thought you might propose to me then.”

Beomgyu bows his head. “I am incredibly sorry,” he says quietly. “Nothing can excuse what I did.”

“It can’t,” you agree. “But it doesn’t matter anymore. It has already happened, and anyway, it’s not the worst thing a man has done to me this season.”

He stares at you. Did you just joke about Lord Cho’s assault? 

“Don’t look at me like that,” you snap, hunching into yourself. “It’s true.”

Beomgyu swallows. “I…suppose it is,” he mumbles. 

For a long moment, you two remain silent. “Nothing may excuse what you did,” you finally say, “but at least I can understand it.” And as Beomgyu is reeling from your response, trying to make sense of it, you step back. “I accept your apology,” you say. “And I appreciate it. But I think it is best that you go now, Mr. Choi.” You start to walk away. “Brighton will see you out.”

Beomgyu gapes, even as the butler comes back into the room. You said you understood. Understood feeling so strongly that it terrified you, understood the urge to run away that he gave in to—

Brighton steps toward him but Beomgyu ignores him, catching your wrist again. “Y/N!”

You stop, but you don’t look back. “What?”

Beomgyu senses that he only has one chance for this. Just one chance to say the right thing, or you’ll walk away and leave him forever. “What did you mean,” he asks, voice ragged, “when you said you understood?”

You turn to him, derision scrawled across your face. “You are a true idiot,” you snap, “if you believe you were the only one who dreamed of the kiss for days afterward.” Then you turn again and try to walk away, but Beomgyu keeps his grip on your wrist. “What is it now?” you snarl, whirling back around.

Everything is hitting him too hard, too fast, but this time, instead of running, Beomgyu stays put. You dreamed of the kiss. You thought of it for days on end just as he did, your eyes drifting to his lips the way his drifted to yours. Suddenly Beomgyu remembers moments when he saw your gaze fixated on his mouth for mere fractions of a second before you returned to the conversation, moments when you smiled at him and there was a shyness in your expression that he had never seen before…

He remembers the waltz and how you settled so comfortably into his hold, eyes sparkling, lips parted as he lowered you into the crook of his arm. You were so warm. So trusting. So full of a joy and hope that made his heart race. 

“I trusted you to know the dance, and what it would mean to the ton. What it would mean to me.” 

What it would mean to me. 

Beomgyu is an idiot. An absolute idiot. “Miss L/N,” he says slowly, “do you love me?”

Your eyes shutter. “It doesn’t matter.” 

He holds your gaze. “Yes, it does.”

“No, it doesn’t,” you grit out. You try to tug yourself away but he won’t let go. “Let go of me!”

He releases you immediately, memories of your cries a week ago forcing his hand open as soon as the words leave your mouth. But he doesn’t let you run away. “Answer my question,” he says. 

“It doesn’t matter,” you hiss. Beomgyu hears panic rising in your voice, some sort of fear pushing anger into your tone that he knows isn’t real. “What about that doesn’t make sense to you?”

“It does matter,” he says, cutting through your panic. “Because I asked you a question before that you still haven’t answered.”

You fall silent. 

“I asked you to marry me,” he says quietly, each word like a gunshot in the silence. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Brighton slip out of the room again. 

You say nothing. You don’t even look at him. It should discourage Beomgyu, but strangely, in the face of your silence, he feels more hopeful. “So I ask you again, Miss L/N,” he murmurs, stepping closer, “do you love me?”

“Why do you need to know?” you ask, voice less sharp, more pleading. “It doesn’t matter, Beomgyu!”

“If you can say no, then I’ll leave.” He puts his hands up in surrender, but privately he feels even more hope with the sound of his name from your lips. “I swear it. But you must answer me.” His voice lowers, almost to a whisper. “Do you love me?”

Your silence is more telling than anything you said before.

Beomgyu takes a leap of faith. “If you do…” He swallows. “Then marry me, Y/N.” 

You stay quiet for a long time. A clock ticks nearby, slowly marking every second that passes. Beomgyu feels as wound up as a spring, his muscles so tense it almost hurts, but he doesn’t move. He won’t move. Not until you speak.

And eventually, you do. 

“My father is dead.” 

Beomgyu’s eyes widen. Your lips curve a little, but the movement holds no humor. “We received the letter a few days ago.” 

“…I am incredibly sorry.”

“I’m not.” Your words are callous but you shrug like they mean nothing—and perhaps, after all these years, they don’t. “I hardly knew him and he hardly knew any of us. All these years, we thought he was trying to make money overseas, but he had actually gambled it all away.” You shrug again. “He died over a year ago. It took that long for anyone to try and track us down. The country home will need to be sold to pay off his debts. This house is all we really have left and we might be on the verge of losing that too, so I don’t care for him at all.”

Beomgyu stays silent against the rolling tide of your fury. He has no right to judge the situation, and nothing he could say would soothe your anger anyway. He had two loving parents, a rarity in this ton—he can hardly imagine how you feel now, both biological parents dead, one having betrayed you without your knowing for years on end. 

“I didn’t tell you this for pity.” You take a deep breath, and some of the anger dissipates, replaced by your previous weariness. “But, Beomgyu…you won’t gain anything from marrying me. Nothing at all. I’m just another girl with nothing to my name except a heap of scandal. I don’t have a title. I don’t have money. I do chores in the household where I am supposed to be a lady and while I don’t care, if this were to spread to the rest of the ton, you would be ruined, too.” Beomgyu follows your gaze down to your bare hands, your palms rough and weathered, your fingertips raw and pricked. “There’s nothing for you to gain from this,” you say quietly. “Nothing at all.”

Beomgyu reaches out. When you don’t flinch away, he takes your hand. He rubs his thumb over the skin of your palm, skimming over the lines, the cracks, the scars. “I notice,” he says slowly, “that you have still not said no.”

You scoff. “Retract your proposal, and I won’t have to.”

“What if I don’t retract it?” he challenges. “Will you say no, then?”

“You’re an idiot not to!” you snap. You try to pull your hand away but this time Beomgyu doesn’t let go. You glare at him. “Did you not hear a single thing I just said? I can’t bring you anything but burden!”

“I love you.” 

With those three words, the fight drains out of you almost immediately. Your head slumps over your joined hands and when you finally look back at him, tears sparkle, unshed, in your eyes. “I love you,” Beomgyu says again and even though it feels like his heart is about to leap out of his chest, the words still feel so right, leaving his lips. “I love you, and I want to be with you. To be with you could never be a burden to me because I love you and everything that comes with you.” You open your mouth to say something but he barrels on. “I don’t care if you have no dowry. I’ve already told you it’s an outdated notion and I care nothing for it, and besides, my family has more than enough money. I don’t need more.” He takes a breath. “I don’t care that your hands will never be smooth. Your scars carry the weight of the care you have for those you love, and they have no bearing on the goodness of your heart. And as for your scandals…” Beomgyu smiles a little, surprised to find some genuine humor in what he is about to say. “I will not have you bear all the burden when the fault is also mine. I am at least half as responsible for all of those scandals as you are.”

You stay quiet. Beomgyu gives up tracing your palm, instead clasping both of his hands over yours. “I love you, Y/N,” he says softly. “None of these things change that, and they never will.”

“You’re an idiot,” you say. Your voice is surprisingly steady, but the last syllable trembles just as the first tear slips out of your eye. “You’re an incredible idiot, Beomgyu. You know all of this—you know what sort of new scandal it would create if we married—”

“What does it say about you, then, that you have still not given me a reply?”

“I’m also an idiot!” you yell. “A bloody fucking stupid idiot who loves you against all of her better judgement. I loved you when you waltzed with me, I loved you when you left me, I loved you when you gave me those gloves—even though I didn’t even it know it then. I thought about you kissing me for days on end and I asked you to be my friend just so you wouldn’t stop speaking to me, looking at me, because I couldn’t stand the thought of seeing you everywhere and not being able to talk to you. I loved you and I still love you because I’m an idiot. A bloody, stupid idiot—” You cut yourself off as tears begin to spill down your face. You harshly wipe them off. “I don’t want to say no because I love you, you stupid fool. Despite everything I still love you and I always will, and I need you to realize that this is a terrible idea because—because this will be a mistake, it will be a huge mistake for you if you marry me, but I—I don’t know if I can say no.”

Beomgyu lets go of your hand. You flinch, no doubt expecting him to step away, but he instead comes closer. This is hugely improper but Beomgyu doesn’t care as he lifts his hand to your cheek to brush away the tears as they come. “Then say yes,” he whispers.

You shake your head wildly. “This is a mistake, Beomgyu. You’re making a huge mistake.”

“You have never been a mistake,” he says quietly. “Not once. Not ever. It was only my mistakes that got us to this point. If I hadn’t been so terrified and unable to cope with my own feelings…” He swallows around the shame that rises bitterly on his tongue. “I am the one who left you at the ball. That was my mistake. But if you can still trust me, Y/N, trust me when I say that loving you was never a mistake for me.”

“I can’t do anything good for you,” you say miserably. “Society will talk about this forever.”

“They’ll talk about it forever anyway,” Beomgyu points out. “And I don’t know about you, but I’m somewhat past caring about what they think of you and me. They’ll never get the facts right, and I can’t control that, but…I know that I love you.” His thumb sweeps another tear from your cheek. “And if you love me too…”

“I do.” Your voice is hardly a whisper but the two words embed themselves in Beomgyu’s heart, warmth slowly filling his blood. “I do love you.”

“Then that’s all that matters.” Beomgyu gently presses his forehead to yours. “I don’t care what the ton will say. I want you to be with me, forever. You say you can do no good for me but just having you near me…Y/N, I have never felt this way for another in my life.” He slides an arm around your waist, pulling you closer gently, gently. “You are the best thing that has happened to me. I should be honored to have you with me wherever I go. I don’t care what you can and can’t do for me. Being around you, being with you…that is all I want. All I need.”

You take a shuddering breath. “Beomgyu…”

“I’ll take you everywhere, Y/N. We’ll travel far away, go wherever and see whatever you want. We don’t need to stay here. We can deal with the ton as much or as little as you want to.” You open your mouth to speak, but he cuts you off. “Don’t worry about your servants or your family. I will provide a dowry for Delia. I will buy the house for your brother. Your servants can travel with us or stay in the home, and I will double their wages.” He takes a deep breath. “So say yes, Y/N.”

You swallow hard.

“Say yes,” he whispers again. “Please.”

You close your eyes. Tears wet your eyelashes, and Beomgyu fights the urge to brush them away, for that would break the two of you apart. You open your eyes and they’re red from crying but in this moment, Beomgyu knows he could never tire of this. Of having you close, of seeing you close, of being able to love you like this—freely, without regrets. 

“Yes.” The word ghosts over his lips, your breath soft like the wind against his skin. “Yes, Beomgyu.” You swallow hard, and though another tear rolls down your face, Beomgyu dares to believe it isn’t from sadness—that there could be some happiness joining the myriad of emotions on your face. “I will marry you.”

. . . . .

The next morning dawns uneventfully, which almost tricks you into thinking the previous day was just a dream. There’s no proof that anything happened beyond your memories, and even then, the idea that Beomgyu proposed to you seems almost too fantastical to be true. 

But it did happen. You can still feel Beomgyu’s hands encasing yours, his thumb smoothing over the cracks and lines on your palm like his touch could take away the pain. You can feel his forehead pressed to yours, his arm around your waist, pulling you to him. You can feel him, his presence—feel the memories of him wrapped around you like a shield against the world. 

You have him, and you have his promise—the promise that he would return the next day, today, with a betrothal ring. The promise that he would marry you and take you far from this place. The promise that he would love you forever. 

“I will leave now, before your stepmother returns,” he had said, holding your hand. “But tomorrow I will come. I don’t care if your stepmother refuses callers—I will come. And I will have a betrothal ring, and we will be married as soon as we can.” And you had agreed, and he had kissed your hand like you were dressed in the finest silks and jewels rather than your dirty servant’s apron, and he left, and you believed him.

Maybe you are a fool for trusting him so after he left you once. But even knowing that…you still believe him. You still believe in the man who held Delia like a little princess. You still believe in the man who defended you from Lady Trombley. You still believe in the man who gave you the gloves. And when you hear people talking in the hallway just after the clock strikes ten, your heart lifts, setting several butterflies alight in your stomach. 

You were right to trust him. 

Unfortunately, as the minutes tick on, you start to suspect there might be some trouble. While you can’t quite hear what your stepmother is saying, the sound of her cold voice permeates through the walls enough that you can tell she doesn’t plan on letting Beomgyu in. You abandon your chores in the kitchen and follow the sound of her voice towards the hall. 

You run into Brighton first, thankfully. “What’s happening?” you ask, even though you’re almost certain you know what is going on. 

“You have a caller, Miss L/N,” he says. It’s all he gets out before your stepmother rounds the corner and interrupts. 

“We are not taking callers,” she snaps, face even more pinched than usual. “Get back into the house.”

You ignore her. “Who is the caller?”

“Mr. Choi.”

Nervous warmth begins to tingle in your fingertips, which almost makes you groan—this is not the time to be feeling any sort of fluttery butterfly-ness, not when your stepmother is right there. “Let him in.”

Your stepmother snarls. “You are taking no callers—”

“He wasn’t asking for you, Stepmother,” you retort coldly. “Brighton, please bring him in.”

Brighton, smart man that he is, immediately departs. You brace yourself for your stepmother’s inevitable incoming tirade. There isn’t much in this hallway to put between you and her, so you can only hope Brighton comes back quickly. 

“You are not the head of this household.”

You glance at the end of the hallway. You really hope Brighton comes back soon. 

“You technically aren’t, either.” You take a step back but your stepmother advances faster, her eyes narrowed and sharp. “Henry is. But I don’t suppose you want to take orders from a four year old.”

There’s a flash of skin, a loud cracking sound, and then pain blooms across your left cheek. You cradle it instinctively, biting your lip against the pain. Well, at least the left side of your face will now be matching the right. 

Your sharp tongue never fails to get you into trouble these days. 

“Go back to the kitchen,” your stepmother snarls, her hands folded deceptively calmly at her waist. What a witch. “I will deal with you after I deal with Mr. Choi.”

“What, are you going to slap him too?” you snap. “He is my caller. I will receive him. You have no right—”

She laughs, high and sharp. “You wish for him to call on you now, when you look like this? Even if you weren’t buried in scandal, I would never let another see you in this dirty garb.”

“And whose fault is that?” You snort. “I wouldn’t be in this dirty garb if it weren’t for you. And for the record, Stepmother…” A smirk creeps across your lips. “He has already seen me like this.”

Horror flashes across her expression. “You—”

“I did.” You let your smirk widen. “He knows.”

You hear the slap before you feel it. The force of her hand against your cheek nearly knocks you against the wall and you don’t manage to stifle your cry, pressing your palm to your cheek in a futile effort to relieve some of the pain. A sharp sting rushes up your face, though, and when you pull your palm away, there’s a thin streak of blood. Her ring must have cut you again. 

“You’re an idiot,” you say as calmly as you can. “Mr. Choi is here. In this house. Brighton will be back with him in moments. Do you think it will benefit you at all for him to see me like this? To see you like this?”

She blanches. You keep talking, years of rage boiling over. “What, lost your tongue?” You laugh humorlessly. “All these years you’ve kept me pent up like this, one of your worst secrets—cleaning for you, washing for you, sewing your clothes and mine—you’re lucky I cared enough about Delia and Henry not to say anything.” A sneer curls your lips. “You hit me and you slap me and you know it’s wrong, you know it’s bloody wrong because you never do it in front of the children! Why do you hate me so much? What did I ever do to deserve—”

You see it coming—the hand rising, the palm flashing. Instinctively you flinch. Your eyes slam shut and you cringe away from the hand, covering your cheek as some small protection against the impact. 

But it never comes. 

You open your eyes. Beomgyu stands beside your stepmother, fingers wrapped tightly around her still-raised wrist. If you weren’t almost hyperventilating, you might laugh at how comically wide her eyes are, but only a slight wheeze manages to press past your lips. 

“Miss L/N.” Brighton’s voice sounds next to your ear. You hadn’t registered his presence, but it calms you. “Are you all right?”

“Not—not really.” You look at Brighton, whose usually calm expression has twisted with anger, then at Beomgyu, whose face can only be described as the pure embodiment of cold rage. “But I’m fine.” You don’t take your hand away from your bleeding cheek as you meet Beomgyu’s eyes. “Beomgyu, I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” Beomgyu drops your stepmother’s wrist and shoves past her, coming to  a stop right in front of you. For all the anger in his movements, his hand is surprisingly gentle as he pries your fingers away from your face, revealing whatever marks she left moments ago. You hiss as open air hits the cut, but Beomgyu’s thumb soothes it slightly. “Is there anything we can use to clean this?” he asks Brighton with deceptive calm. 

“I will bring something shortly.” The butler bows, then quickly leaves. 

Silence falls in the hallway, though Beomgyu’s anger clearly sizzles in the air. His dark eyes search yours for something, and only when his gaze falls to your cheek do you understand what he’s asking. 

“I’m fine,” you say quietly. “Or, I will be.”

It’s clear Beomgyu isn’t happy with your response, but he does seem to realize you don’t want to speak about this—at least not now. He nods almost imperceptibly, then turns to your stepmother. “Leave,” he snaps. He barely gives her a glance.

She gapes, her mouth opening and closing like a fish. If the situation weren’t so charged, you might laugh. “I will not be ordered about in my own home!” she finally manages, her cheeks turning blotchy with embarrassment.

“Good God.” You sigh. “With all due respect, Stepmother, isn’t this exactly what you wanted? For me to be married to a wealthy husband and out of your hair?” You sneer. “If you don’t leave, that fantasy will never come true.”

Her eyes widen more, if that was possible. “You—” She glances between you and Beomgyu wildly. “You want to marry her?”

“I don’t answer to abusers,” Beomgyu says coldly. 

“But—”

God, she is the absolute worst. “I don’t suggest you make Mr. Choi any angrier than he already is,” you snap. 

With a last incredulous glance, your stepmother hurries out of the hallway. You breathe a sigh of relief. Finally.

Beomgyu’s gaze immediately softens, though concern still burns in his eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner,” he says quietly. 

“You didn’t know.” You shrug. “It’s fine, Beomgyu. I’ll heal.”

“It’s not that,” he says, eyebrows furrowing. “It’s the fact that this has clearly been going on for a very long time—”

“That is true,” you interrupt. “But I couldn’t say anything then. And anyone who knew didn’t have the power to do anything about it. I am only glad now that I have someone who knows, and who might help protect me.” You take the hand still pressed to your cheek and squeeze it. “I will be fine.”

Beomgyu searches your expression for a long moment. Whatever he is looking for, he seems to find it, because he seems to relax slightly. “If you say so.”

“I do.” You smile, wincing when the movement hurts your cheek. Beomgyu clearly notices but he also clearly sees that you don’t want him to remark on it, so you’re very grateful when he says nothing. You let your voice take on a more playful tone. “Now, what are you here for?”

“Well, I came as I promised yesterday.” His voice takes on somewhat of an edge and you realize he seems almost nervous. It’s very endearing, and your smile widens. “I brought you a ring,” he continues, producing a small box from his pocket. “If you will still accept my suit.” He opens the box.

You gasp. A bright emerald decorates the simple gold band, flanked on each side by small diamonds. There isn’t much light in the hallway but the gems catch what light there is, sparkling cheerfully in the box. “It’s beautiful,” you whisper. 

Beomgyu lifts the ring from the box and takes your hand. “It is yours,” he says, voice clearly shaking a little, “if you should like to have it.”

“Of course I would.” To your surprise, you can feel tears coming to your eyes that aren’t just from pain. “My answer hasn’t changed, Beomgyu.”

Relief floods across his expression, a tension disappearing from his shoulders that you hadn’t noticed before. “Oh. That’s good,” he says, smiling slightly. “Good for me, I mean. I just…I wouldn’t have blamed you if you did.”

You keep quiet for a moment, choosing your next words carefully. “I can’t say I wasn’t hurt by what you did, Beomgyu,” you finally say. “I was.”

He nods, looking terribly guilty. 

“But I also know that you are not characterized only by your mistakes then.” You smile softly, folding your hands over his. “You are still the man who defended me from Lady Trombley. The man who helped me after Lord Cho. The man who gave me gloves.”

Beomgyu peers at you with his dark eyes, so soft, so kind. 

“Maybe it will take us time to work past this.” You shrug. “That’s fine. Everything takes time. But…I know, at least, that I want to work past this with you. I want to be with you.” Your smile grows, trembling on your lips. “We were idiots for so long. I’m just…I’m just glad we were able to get to this point, at least, without it being too late.”

“Well, we only have you to thank for that.” Beomgyu smiles softly, most of the awful guilt slipping off his face. “You were the one who apologized first.”

You make a face. “Desperation can do strange things to a person.”

“Desperation?”

Your cheeks feel warm. “After you kissed me, I couldn’t stop thinking of it.” You turn away, embarrassed. “I couldn’t stand the idea of not seeing you again either. I was desperate. So I apologized, because I at least wanted to be friends.”

Beomgyu’s fingers light on your chin, turning you back to him. “Well, you are far braver than I,” he says sheepishly. “I was too scared to say anything, for fear that you wouldn’t feel the same way.”

You smile teasingly. “That just means you have the rest of our lives to make up for it.” 

“Trust me, I will be.” And with that, he slides the ring onto your finger, the gold band comfortingly cool against your skin. 

You hold up the hand, admiring the sparkle of the gems even in the dim light of the hall. “It really is lovely,” you murmur.

“It’s one of the betrothal rings that has been in the family for a long time,” Beomgyu says. “Soobin had our mother’s, of course, because he is the first born, but I think this one suits you better anyway.”

The emerald glints against your finger, cheerful and bright. You haven’t seen the other rings in Beomgyu’s family collection, but you’re inclined to agree with him. The longer you look at it, the giddier you feel, even remembering everything that happened just minutes ago. It’s almost unbelievable. You’re going to be married. Married. And to someone you love, even. Your smile widens. 

“I can’t really believe this is happening,” you admit, almost in a whisper. It’s more to yourself than to Beomgyu, but he hears you anyway. 

“Me neither.” The society version of him is gone now, replaced by a shyer, almost boyish version of him that endears you far more than is good for the butterflies in your chest. “I mean, less than a few months ago we were still at each other’s throats.”

“I suppose you can claim all the credit for this, then.” You laugh. “You’re the one who suggested that ridiculous deal in the first place.”

“I may have suggested it, but you’re the one who took it to the next step.” Beomgyu grins. “Out of desperation.”

You hit him lightly as heat floods your cheeks. “Hey, you felt the same way!”

“I did, and I was an idiot for not acting on it sooner.” Beomgyu steps forward, taking your hands, and suddenly you’re so close you swear he could hear your heart beating right now. “I’m sorry for that.”

“Stop apologizing. I have already forgiven you.” A rush of boldness course through you and you lean your head against Beomgyu’s shoulder. He stiffens for a moment but relaxes so suddenly you almost flinch, and then his arms come to wrap around your waist. It reminds you of how he held you when you kissed and with that memory, you only sink deeper into his hold. “Anyway, what is that thing they say?” you mumble. “Something about there being a line in between love and hate?”

Beomgyu smiles and pushes you away, but just so he can look into your eyes. “There is a fine line,” he murmurs against your ear, his gaze drifting down to your lips, “between hatred and love.”

You laugh as he kisses you, his mouth soft and sweet against yours. “Yes,” you whisper when you pull away. “A very fine line, indeed.”

. . . . .

epilogue.

“Beomgyu!” You run down the stairs, nearly tripping over your skirts in the process. “Where are you? We’re going to be late—”

A hand catches your wrist as you fly down the last few steps. Beomgyu’s laugh rings out when you screech, his arm pulling you flush against him. “I’m right here,” he says into your ear. You hear the smile in his voice even though you can’t see it, pressed to his chest as you are. 

“I couldn’t find you!” You pull away, hoping your makeup hasn’t rubbed off onto his outfit. “Where were you hiding?”

“Nowhere.” He sneaks a kiss in between your flailing and you yelp again. “You just weren’t looking hard enough.”

You scowl, but both of you know there’s no real annoyance behind it. “You are incredibly annoying,” you inform him, only to be met with another chuckle. 

It’s been a year since the last season, and six months since you married. If you had had it your way, you would have married as soon as he proposed—called the banns in a week, married in a matter of days after that. With your father dead, however, your entire family was sent into mourning. Never mind that you had never cared for the man. 

You hated those six months. It wasn’t the seclusion from society, which you honestly didn’t mind—but just…mourning your father. A man who was barely present in your life. A man whose face you wouldn’t have remembered if not for the portrait still stuck up in the drawing room, a man who lied to you for years until he died so far away from home. You almost considered eloping to Gretna Green to escape the months of forced darkness—you’re fairly certain Beomgyu would have agreed—but ultimately decided against it. You had participated in enough scandal during the season to last you a lifetime. You didn’t need any more of it.

It helped when the three month mark came around and you could change out of the void black gowns and into the lighter colors of half-mourning. Not so much because of the clothes, but because you could slowly begin to accept social engagements again. It isn’t that you particularly wanted to see anyone—the season was over by then and you were incredibly glad for that—but Beomgyu could visit, then. It wasn’t as often as you or he would have liked since his family had moved to the country while you stayed in town, but it helped the time pass more quickly, especially when your little half-siblings freed themselves from the clutches of the staff and managed to tumble into the drawing room to join you two. You’re almost certain Delia has a little child-crush on Beomgyu, and Henry looks at him like a role model.

It's adorable. 

Still, sometimes those three months seemed interminable. You barely spoke to your stepmother but after so many years of living under her iron fist, you could never feel at ease in the same house as her. When the wedding came around, you didn’t invite her and she didn’t ask to come. It was a lovely day to celebrate your escape from a life you never wished to live. 

And here you are, now. Bickering with your husband whom you love in a home you can call your own, free from the back-breaking secret of your previous life and able to live, really live, in a way you haven’t been able to in years. You can even go about in society with your head held high, just like you will tonight. 

That is, if Beomgyu decides to stop stalling anytime soon. 

He leans in for another kiss but you jerk away before his lips can land on yours. “We’re going to be late, Beomgyu,” you repeat, forcibly pushing his face away. 

He looks at you, face mushed still mushed against your hand. You fight the urge to laugh but a smile makes its way onto your lips anyway. “Be honest with me, Y/N,” he says, pulling away with that little twinkle in his eye. “Do you really want to go tonight?”

You open your mouth, ready to respond affirmatively. But then Beomgyu catches you with those very sweet, very alluring eyes, and you pinch your lips together. He’s already won, you both know, but you have to fight him a little bit. Just a little bit. 

“You’re telling me we should skip our first public event since coming back from our very extended honeymoon?” You raise an eyebrow. 

“Why not?” he asks, sneaking a quick kiss onto your neck. You yelp, squirming away, but he maintains his hold on your waist all the while. “We’d have more fun at home anyway.”

You do your very best to ignore the way he’s smiling against your skin. “We already said that we would go.”

“Something came up. A terrible emergency that required us to return to the country for another month.” Beomgyu decides that whatever he’s doing right now is no longer enough and begins to lay kisses down your neck, trailing them towards your shoulder even though he knows you are incredibly ticklish over there. “You can’t tell me you’re so eager to return to society.”

You sigh. Beomgyu made good on all of his promises—he bought the house for your brother, he set aside money for your sister’s dowry, and he doubled the wages of all your staff in service. Several of them have followed you to your new home, too. And after your wedding, he whisked you away from London and the upcoming season to show you everything he knew in the continent. It was wonderful to leave England and even more wonderful to see the world, but by the end, you had come to the conclusion that it wasn’t just leaving London that gave you this joy. It was the fact that you had someone you loved by your side. 

It was the fact that you had Beomgyu.

It sounds terribly cliché, and you had said about as much to Beomgyu when you admitted it the night you returned to London, confessions whispered under the starlit sky. He had asked you if you really felt all right returning to society after the scandals and gossip of the last season and after a moment, you nodded. It would be difficult, but you didn’t want to hide forever. And with someone really and truly on your side, you could believe things would turn out fine. 

You thought he’d laugh at you, and he did—a little bit. But that laugh was accompanied by a surprising shyness and warmth in his touch as he pulled you closer under the bedsheets, your head coming to rest against his chest, just under his chin. “That is somewhat cliché,” he had said, words ghosting softly past your skin. “But I am very glad you feel that way.”

Now here you are, ready to attend your first public event of the season, and he’s trying to convince you to stay home. 

“I’m not not eager,” you protest. 

“But you aren’t exactly saying you’re eager either,” he retorts easily.

You sigh. “We promised we would go,” you say emphatically, but even you can tell that you’re losing ground for your argument here. 

Beomgyu hums into your shoulder, his arms sliding down to wrap around your waist from behind. “I’m sure Lady Park will understand,” he murmurs. 

That draws you up short. You’d nearly forgotten who was hosting tonight. “We are not skipping out on Lady Park’s ball,” you say, twisting around to look at him fully. “She is probably one of my only supporters in society right now!”

He makes an affronted noise. “What, is my family just chopped liver?”

“They are family,” you retort. “It isn’t the same. If they didn’t support me, we would be in far greater trouble by now.”

Beomgyu falls silent, which means he’s conceding defeat—at least on this front. “Fine, we’ll go,” he eventually groans. “But no one said we have to stay the entire night.” He whirls you around so that you’re facing him directly, and his grin becomes something distinctly inviting. Sensual. Your heart begins to beat uncomfortably quickly. “In fact, no one said we had to arrive on time, either.”

Your mouth suddenly feels very dry. You fight hard to keep your eyes meeting his, and not floating downwards to fixate on his lips. “Beomgyu…”

He grins. He knows he’s winning. “Twenty minutes,” he proposes.

“…Five minutes.”

“Fifteen.”

“Ten.”

“Twelve and a half.” You laugh, and Beomgyu takes your distraction as an opportunity to press his lips to yours again. “Twelve and a half,” he repeats when he pulls away, eyes sparkling. “And by the way, did I tell you how beautiful you look this evening?”

You laugh again, despite yourself. “You are absolutely incorrigible,” you inform him. 

“And yet you still love me,” he points out, infuriatingly correct as usual. “Twelve and a half minutes.”

“…Fine.”

He has his lips against yours in less than a second, an arm around your waist pulling you protectively close as your own hands wrap instinctively around his neck. “You are so beautiful,” he whispers against your lips. “I promise, every minute will be worth it.”

Sometimes it just suddenly hits you how lucky you are—how less than two years ago, you believed you would never find a husband, that you would never find love, that you would be forced to run away to avoid a life slated for a miserable end in your old household. Just a year past you believed this man to be your mortal enemy. When you think about it too much, you start to panic. Now that you have everything, a life that months ago you could only have dreamed of, it all feels like it could be taken away so easily. 

So as Beomgyu’s lips capture yours again, pressing you against the staircase as his hand rises to caress your cheek, you decide not to think about it. You push your doubt and panic away and focus on here, on now—on the warmth of his hands and his lips, on the love he manages to convey with every miniscule touch. This life is yours, this life filled with so much devotion and warmth, yours to build, yours to love. And if you know yourself, you will never willingly let it go.

When you break away for air, you don’t let Beomgyu pull away too far. You tangle your fingers through his dark hair, grinning all the while. If he notices a few tears of joy threatening to spill down your cheek, he says nothing, just looks at you with his doting smile.

“That was never in doubt,” you reply, staring into loving eyes. “Because every moment with you has always been worth it.”

Reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed this, and have a lovely day :)

[fishii-writes]

kamariya - kenyu yukimiya

paring: yukimiya x fem!reader

au: indian/bollywood + actors

cw: not proofread, intended lowercase, reader is a dancer like in that one scene in stree, yukimiya is the male lead for the "movie", yukimiya is mentioned by his first name, lyrics from the song are in Orange and italics, just yukimiya being a simp tbh

a/n: yukimiya brainrot. my indian girlies unite frfr!!! character choice based off of this moodboard a person made and. i. i had a vision. on holiday so i skipped out studying to write this (i'm cooked). Not really my best work but I wanted to post this bc I am happy to write it! hope you enjoy!! Woah fishii double posts writing 🙀

word count: 1576

best paired with: kamariya from stree <3

“practice run,” the director calls out, gesturing for all main actors and supporting cast to join him beside the camera station. the main leads, the main couple, are no where to be found. well, it’s not a big deal, since it’s just a scene with a song and dancing.

you’re a side character, a dancer, but the main dancer of the group. of course, the female lead gets introduced at this point in the film, but all eyes are on you for a good part of this scene. on you, your body, your movements and face. so naturally, you’re nervous, to say the very least.

“hmm, seems that Kenyu isn’t here yet. well, then, [name]. you can practice once more, if you’d like. might be a good idea to practice in front of a small audience, since you seemed shy when i last checked.” the director points towards a campfire setup, where the following scenes were meant to be recorded. you nod, following the others to the area where they each took their seats.

lucky for you, the other actors, both side and supporting roles, are kind. they hype you up, telling you to take your time as you both emotionally and physically prepare to dance. its not like you can just start moving your hips to the beat of the music. besides, it hasn’t even started playing yet.

you turn so that your back is to the small audience, as they sit in a semi-circle formation. you flex your hands a couple of times, hopping up and down to get yourself ready. one breath in. one breath out.

it really is as easy as just moving your hips. what’s the worst that can happen? losing confidence isn’t an issue, you’ve got a little hype squad.

one last breath in, the tip of your toes just barely touch the floor. you’re barefoot, to maintain your balance. you push yourself up from the floor, one foot a bit higher than the other to get into the “flow”.

you want to dance, you really do. but its too quiet. too awkward. eyes are to focused on you. you’re the main attraction, yeah, but… something has to lure the audience’s eyes in. in a seductive way? not too sure about that. maybe, that wouldn’t be so bad, would it?

lost in thought, the start of the song being sung by one of your back up dancers snaps you out of your trance.

“o seeli peeli pa ke o balam, tod de bharam. chhod de ghabrana.”

there you go. slowly but surely, you feel your shoulders loosen and your stress melt away. or maybe you’re just too focused to notice the others started clapping along and singing the parts they know.

unconsciously, you hum the tune to the song as your arms comfortably stretch above your head, slowly slithering down your torso as your hips take turns gently jerking up on either side. while it started off a little bit still, your movements became elegant just as fast as they became comfortable and natural for you to perform. the blouse you were wearing was somewhat revealing, but it makes sense for a scene like this.

“hmmm~”

your skirt, the longer piece of your lightweight lehenga, flows freely at your ankles. its red colour contrasts the soft blue lights that bounce off of the sequences on your outfit, off of the others’ faces and gracing your gorgeous face with a blue tint.

“dil ke saare button khol de, khul ke bol de,”

you expect your voice to come out a little bit squeaky, but to your surprise, it comes out just as intended. you spin around, slightly lifting the skirt of your lehenga as you move forward. you let the light fabric drop back to your ankles, turning the audience’s attention back to you. your wrists flick in various positions, with your shoulders flexing at different angles.

“bata de tera aaj hai plan kya?”

just as you’re about to invite your back up dancers to practice with you, the actual song plays. it’s a bit annoying, but what better opportunity to practice timing? you move your hips to the beat of the song, the words almost wrapping around your wrists and guiding them to smoothen your movements, from your back to the very tips of your fingers.

“aaj bijli bhi girwani hai, fire bhi lagwaani hai-”

your breath is comfortably held in your throat for a moment, trying to correctly perform a certain move when you hear an exhale behind you.

“jo tu aa ke baby hamre saath ma…”

you brush it off, exhaling as your arms slither down your torso once more. wait. exhale? behind you?

“aa, aa, aa, aa ke…”

you can’t turn around. it’s obviously someone from the audience, but you can’t help feeling a bit nervous as someone is quite literally over your shoulder. well, whatever, you can do this.

“kamariya…”

you finally turn around, expecting to be met with one of your back up dancers. but…

but?

“hila de hilla de, hila de hilla de-”

you pause, half on your tippy-toes and leaning backwards a bit.

“hila de hilla de,”

the person now in front of you leans in, just barely whispering.

“najariya…”

and god you can’t deny that there’s a good reason he’s been casted for the male lead. you can feel his breath lightly fanning over your neck, the tip of his nose just a slip up away from touching you.

your eyes flicker to the director, and he quietly points to the camera. its on. you either have to start dancing as naturally as possible again, or retake the whole scene. with the main lead watching. you take your chance, pulling yourself to stand up straight by tugging the man’s tie. your loop it around your hand once, a somewhat playful yet hesitant smirk on your lips.

“mila de milla de, mila de milla de-”

and he seems to have gotten the gist of how you want things to go. the other actors keep singing, some whistling and others clapping to the beat of the song to set the scene that you’re tonight’s main attraction.

“mila de milla de,”

he pulls you in by the waist, one hand intertwined with yours above your head, spinning you around. in an almost comical manner, one hand rests on your lower back as he leans you down.

“kamariya…”

so this is Kenyu Yukimiya. the Kenyu Yukimiya.

this is the closest you’ve been to the male lead. and oh boy, do you wish you were the female lead for such a movie. well, this is your moment. the “audience” whistles again, while Kenyu’s supporting actor, someone who is meant to be his best friend in the cast, drags him to sit back down.

your back up dancers spread out a bit more, and the camera stops. for a moment, anyways. the director calls out for everyone to stay in their positions, as the camera crew quickly moves the camera to be directed on you. well, here goes nothing. the scene right before the female lead will be introduced, you’ve got to make your mark and show the world you talent. the camera turns back on, and the “audience” starts singing again. they start of quiet, slowly growing louder as you regain your confidence.

“hila de hilla de,”

one flick of your wrist above your head,

“hila de hilla de,”

and a slither of your arm down your waist from your other arm.

“hila de hilla de-”

and you know his eyes are on you. they follow each of your movements, almost sparkling as bright as the blue lights reflecting off of the sequences on your lehenga. but why?

“najariya…”

you hear him just barely say under his breath, over the loud music and even louder singing.

“mila de milla de,”

what’s so fascinating about your dancing that he forgets his very queue for the next scene where the female lead is introduced? hah, loser.

“mila de milla de,”

you can’t deny that you slightly slow down your movements, just to watch the way his eyes follow your hips. the way they slowly meet your eyes, a crooked smile on his gorgeous face as he fights the urge to join you to dance once more. one chance, one chance he wants with you!

“mila de milla de,”

well, fuck it. off script? barely even following the plot of this movie, at this point. he stands back up, taking your hand and spinning you around. you’re a bit surprised, you didn’t actually expect him to give into his urges and dance with you. but hey, you’re not complaining.

“ho.. haye re mera dil le le!”

he sings between his laughs, leaning in close enough for you to be able to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose with your free hand. you’re tempted to do that, just to get him flustered. you would’ve done something to get him embarrassed if the director didn’t yell out “cut!” right when the sparks were erupting between you two.

“take five minutes, then from the top!” the director calls out, letting you leave to freshen up. but Kenyu stays in place, he’s still smitten by the way you move.

“najariya…” you hear him mutter under his breath, not in a musical manner. out of genuine desire for you to stay.

maybe another time, since you’re sure his eyes are on you.

taglist: @tofumixp , @shrii-kk , @motchilyn , @starrissm , @4ngelfries , @thegolden-tigeress , @alkaisen + open (send an ask if you'd like to be added! :D)

likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated!! <3

© fishii-writes 2024

[triangle-dog]

TW pet death

(Not one of mine, don't worry. You won't miss anything if you skip this post.)

I will always and forever be a collar and tags person (or, look, if you are really concerned about strangulation then a harness & tags person or a breakaway collar or whatever). Microchips are great, all my beasts are microchiped, but if one of them gets out I want to be able to find them and bring them home no matter what has happened to them.

Two years ago, almost exactly I think, friends and I were three miles into a beautiful autumn hike with the dogs. The leaves were turning, the wildlife was active, and there was a crisp breeze. We rounded a corner and immediately saw a body floating out on the lake, a dog, its long black fur drifting back and forth in the small waves. After some deliberation on what to do, and if it was safe, I waded out to the dog while the others in the party held our dogs way back from the lake in case the water was bad. He wasn't that far out really, but it felt like it took forever to get there because I was fervently hoping he'd have tags. I could actually feel the relief wash over me when I got there and saw patches of blue collar peeking out between the drifting fur.

I towed him into the shallows by the collar. I'm the most familiar with bodies, which is why I was the one who went out to him, and I know that they age differently in the water but by my judgment he'd died farily recently - less than a day ago. When he's in close enough to shore that I don't think he'll drift away any time soon, I unclip his collar and return to the group. We sit down and strategize for a few minutes. How do you make a call like that without raising their hopes? (Answer: you can't - just the phone ringing will be enough).

"I'm very sorry," I say, "but I found a dog in the lake and I thought you would want to know." She tells me she was half expecting a call like this, that the gate didn't latch correctly and both dogs got out but only one came home. She tells me that they were so worried he wouldn't be able to find his way home in the storm last night. She tells me he was very old, that his mind had been going for awhile now. She tells me that most of his life, until the last few years as his body became less able to manage the walk, they would come down to a beach near here and that he loved to swim. She tells me she hopes he at least got to relive those memories for a bit before he went.

I give her the coordinates, it's not too far from a road if you bushwhack - certainly less than the 3mi we did, and tell her we'll bring him to shore. I pick him up out of the shallows, he feels frail, yet he's so so heavy from the weight of the water in his fur. He's much smaller than Nova, yet lifting Nova has never felt like that. I lay him gently on the rocky beach in what I hope is a natural looking, less-traumatizing-to-the-kids position. I clip his collar back on, with the fur no longer drifting around in the water obscuring it, you can now see the little tag saying "Poochie" on the front. We head back the way we came. That was walk enough for all of us, it would feel wrong to seek a different ending, and it was an out and back trail anyway.

Ever since then, every dead cat or dog I see reminds me of those lakeside discussions. We are all overly dedicated animal people, we're fully aware of microchips and all of our own pets are microchiped, but carrying a waterlogged body 3mi to the car to drive it to the vet's office was just not feasible - I don't think it would occur to most people that that was even an option. Even if they did think of it, most people would be opposed to putting a dead animal in their vehicle. I'm just gonna make it easy on people and put my phone number on my animals.

(Sorry, that post was so much longer than it needed to be, but my brain must have recorded that experience in a different kind of memory than usual because it is so so clear and comes all as a set like that so that's what you got too)

TLDR: OP found a dead dog once and has big feelings about it. Put collars/etc. on your pets

[snapeaddict]

A teacher's trick

For @mmad-lover <3

"I must say, I was quite surprised. The level of precision was that of a third-year; and it was brewed by an average student at best, Miss Ladislaw. Clearly, the discussion we had two weeks ago made a lasting impression. The girl has potential, and it pains me to admit it as I usually have a keen nose for those students with probable skills - I shall keep a close eye on her."

Minerva smirked slightly, although her expression also had something of that motherly fondness one finds in older people's faces as they listen to naive statements from their younger counterparts. That particular smile did not last long, however. She knew Severus would not appreciate what he would qualify as a "patronising attitude" - or what was it that he had said last time? - "ageist condescension". She had not taken it well; then Albus had looked at her with the very same expression, and told her she should know better than to lecture someone who was no longer a student. His amused eyes above the half-moon glasses, the slightly raised eyebrows... yes, Severus might have had a point after all. He was 24 already...

"And what is it that you told Miss Ladislaw two weeks ago?" she asked, her tone as neutral as could be.  

The Potions Master slightly shrugged his shoulders.  

"Merely that I thought she could achieve a satisfactory grade if she applied herself, and that her needing to work harder than some of her classmates for the same results should not hinder her from trying."

Minerva smiled again, then immediately took a sip from her teacup to hide it, pursing her lips.  

"Well, it makes perfect sense." She couldn't help herself.

Severus raised an eyebrow.  

"You told the girl you believed she could do well. You might as well have given that kind of student a bottle of Felix Felicis - it yields the same results."

"We are talking about a student who successfully brewed a Wiggenweld potion, not a Draught of Living Death."

"You understand my meaning."

Severus sighed, although he bowed his head slightly.

"We cannot go about telling every student such things hoping it will be a self-fulfilling prophecy. I would not have said it to half of them. If I had, it would not have been more than a white lie. All I can do is make sure they pass - I am no miracle worker."

"Oh, I don't know. It seems to be exactly what those new educative methods are about... you know, from the last board meeting. I thought..." She stared at him, then looked away, lowering her eyes. "I thought I could certainly incorporate some of them into my teaching. Be a bit more mindful. I am rather old-school, I'm afraid."

Severus kept looking at her. Then he simply replied, well after she had averted her gaze:

"We cannot be parents, Professor."

Minerva wondered if his momentary defeated expression had more to do with the immensity of the task at hand - to work at Hogwarts, one had better not gauge the assignment too closely - or with his own mixed feelings towards teaching. She thought it a little paradoxical how unforgiving he was with regard to academics, while he would go out of his way to try and fix things he could never fix, like broken homes and intra-student hierarchy. He was, it had to be said, an unforgiving teacher and a surprisingly supportive Head of House; Albus would certainly provide a satisfactory analysis for such behaviour, although a little too Lacanian to her liking.  

She poured him another cup of tea, which he accepted with a slightly embarrassed nod of the head. The friendliness between them was new and ever fragile. In its present state, it was a succession of extended hands quickly taken away when glares of suspicion, or the occasional snide remark, emerged again.

But she was trying, truly. This evening, she had originally planned, was to further their mutually beneficial relationship.

"You should not be so reluctant to make use of that Pygmalion effect, you know, Severus. It did yield great results with you."

He stared at her, looking genuinely surprised.  

"With me?" he repeated, the intonation quite unlike him.  

"If you recall, you were not very fond of Transfiguration as a boy."

"I shall make no comment on the subject."

His voice was rather cold.  

"You need not justify yourself", Minerva replied gently. This time, she held his gaze. "I know you had your reasons, all of them justified."

You did not feel safe, she wanted to add, but she said nothing. As usual, another thought rushed to complete the former - does that justify anything?  

She knew he would never claim that it did; although they had never brushed the subject, Albus had made no indication that the boy made any connection at all between the bullying, and his joining You-Know-Who. No, it was her; she made a connection. She saw a pattern, some kind of single path he was made to follow, perhaps a personal failure. It was in her nature to self-scrutinise when and only when she formed a bound - empathy enabled introspection as readily as dislike blinded her to any conclusions she might have previously drawn.

She was startled when he spoke:

"Not all of them, no."

She looked at him confusedly.  

"I beg your pardon?"  

"Not all my reasons for disliking Transfiguration were sound", Severus elaborated, smirking slightly.

She stared at him for a second. It was as if he had guessed...?  

"It was too much like muggle magic", he continued, purposely ignoring her expression. "Put a poor rabbit in a black hat; it is transformed into a dove. The coin disappears and reappears. You pull out metres of tissue from the magician's pocket. It seemed to me this was all that this was - magic tricks."

This time, Minerva was fully shaken out of her daze. She looked frankly scandalised.

"Magic tricks!" she repeated, her right hand on her heart. "Tricks!"  

Severus seemed to enjoy her half-genuine, half-theatrical display of indignation. He continued, sipping his tea with exaggerated nonchalance:

"I thought it horrendously inelegant. Turning animals into glassware while we brewed potions the colour of the starry sky... While we learnt to bottle things without essence... "

"I beg your pardon, no matter how you put it, it still is soup you are making down there", she cut sharply.

The Slytherin narrowed his eyes. "Now, Professor, you do not want me as your enemy", he said slowly, putting down his cup in the middle of the English porcelain before him.  

"Oh, but I do", Minerva replied in a syrupy tone. She put down her own cup with every bit of nonchalance he had just displayed. "Potions are just large soups. That is, boiling water with things you put inside of it."

"Transfiguration is but a distraction for children at a garden birthday party."

"... While their parents bake the birthday cake by throwing ingredients into a big bowl in the right order, which is what you do, if I am not mistaken."

Severus raised his eyebrows, now looking amused and somewhat surprised. He thought of a few bitting comebacks - some that he would not have shied away from using a few years later - but hesitated for a second. This was, after all, still his former professor...  

"Well, Severus? I am sure you of all people have a witty reply to offer. You are a man of many talents."

This was enough to stimulate a formidable combination of those replies he was pondering upon - something to do with Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration, its first principle, the impossibility of conjuring up food, the birthday cake, screaming children, ethical considerations about vanishing said children, and a muffling draught. He was about to speak; then, Minerva's words reached him fully. "You are a man of many talents."

He closed his mouth, smiled slightly, then nodded, all without a word.  

You are a boy of many talents, Severus. Be sure to remember this next class.  

"Pygmalion effect", Minerva said, leaning back in her seat. She clasped her fingers, smiling pensively. "You did so well that next Monday. You transformed that match into such a beautiful flower - truly the most remarkable one I had ever seen. I brought it to Pomona, I remember. She said it looked like a Lotus, Bleeding Heart, and Edelweiss had been bred together; it did not exist. It was a pure product of your imagination."

Severus frowned, although more from concentration than annoyance.  

"I barely remember".  

"You got an O. I cannot tell you how frustrated I was that you only got an E for your O.W.Ls. The only one! Nine 'Outstandings' in all other subjects!"  

Severus gave her an ironic look.  

"I am sorry to have disappointed".  

She rolled her eyes. "Do not put words into my mouth. Look", she added, getting up and circumventing her armchair, "I even took a picture."

She pulled out a drawer from the nearby buffet, then searched through its content for a few seconds, smoothly retrieving a mid-size, cardboard-like paper which she handed to him. Carefully, Severus lowered it down on his knees.

On the top right corner, in green ink, the words "Mr Snape - 1972" were written in the neat, strict handwriting that he had known since his first year, although usually in red. Somewhat clumsily this time - for whatever reason - he turned the paper over. It was, indeed, a picture: that of the flower he vaguely remembered, but now could study plainly, with its long petals and queer tear-shaped extensions right at their extremities. It looked more alien than beautiful, but that was not what his mind was occupied with. Rather, his black eyes scrutinised the background in the picture, clearly that of Minerva's personal desk, which had not changed much since then. His eyes went from the picture to the desk, dimly lit by a few candles at this time of the evening.  

"I wish it could have lasted longer", Minerva said softly, still standing by his side. She had followed his gaze. "It is one of the tragedies of transfiguration - nothing lasts forever."

For a few moments, Severus could not speak. Minerva put a hand on the back of his armchair, looking at him expectantly.

With difficulty, he gathered himself, and finally cleared his throat.  

"I was merely thinking... thinking that if you were to cast a combination of Epoximise and Orchideous spells, and I to brew an Elixir and Revigorating Draught, all of this put to use at regular intervals - it could potentially keep such a flower intact."

Minerva raised her eyebrows, her interest fully sparked. She turned around, searched through the buffet drawer once more, and placed a match in front of him. Her wand was out.

"Brilliant, Severus. What do you say I perform some tricks, and you bring over some soup, so that I can give you another O?