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bratzkoo · 10 months ago

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skin | joshua

Author: bratzkoo Pairing: university student! joshua x university student! reader Genre: angst, fluff Rating: PG-15 Word count: 7.3k Warnings/note: inspired by sabrina carpenter's skin and olivia rodrigo's driver's license. joshua hong is the loml. bit of a long read.

summary: you’re doing great with your boyfriend of 5 months but when his ex drops a podcast talking about their past relationship and indirectly mentions you, your relationship takes on challenges you don’t know if you can handle.

taglist (hit me up if you wanna be added): -

requests are open, but you can just say hi! | masterlist

You never expected to fall in love in college, let alone with someone like Hong Joshua. As one of the most popular students at your university, you were used to attention, but Joshua was different. He saw beyond your carefully curated image, past the smiles and the social ease, right to the core of who you were.

Your relationship started slowly, tentatively. Coffee dates that turned into long walks around campus, stolen glances during lectures, and late-night study sessions that had more to do with learning each other than any subject material. You remembered the first time you really noticed him, in your shared Literature class. He was sitting two rows ahead, his dark hair slightly tousled, completely engrossed in the professor's lecture on romantic poetry.

As you watched him scribble notes furiously, his brow furrowed in concentration, you felt a strange flutter in your chest. It wasn't just that he was handsome – though he undeniably was – but there was something about the intensity of his focus, the way he seemed to lose himself in the words, that drew you in.

After class, you found yourself lingering, pretending to organize your bag as you watched him from the corner of your eye. To your surprise, he approached you, a shy smile playing on his lips.

"Hey," he said, his voice softer than you expected. "I'm Joshua. I've seen you around campus, but I don't think we've officially met."

You introduced yourself, trying to ignore the way your heart raced as he shook your hand. His touch was warm, his grip firm but gentle.

"I was wondering," he continued, a hint of nervousness creeping into his voice, "if you'd like to grab coffee sometime? I could use a study partner for the upcoming exam, and you always seem to have great insights in class."

You found yourself nodding before you even fully processed his words. "I'd love to," you replied, surprised by how steady your voice sounded despite the butterflies in your stomach.

That first coffee date turned into two, then three, then countless more. You discovered that Joshua was not just handsome and smart, but also kind, funny, and surprisingly vulnerable. He told you about his dreams of becoming a singer, how he'd spend hours practicing in the shower or humming melodies under his breath.

"My parents want me to have a 'practical' career," he confided one evening, as you sat together on a bench overlooking the campus lake. "But music... it's like breathing to me. I can't imagine my life without it."

You reached out, taking his hand in yours. "Then don't give it up," you said softly. "You have an amazing voice, Joshua. The world deserves to hear it."

He looked at you then, his eyes shining with something that made your breath catch in your throat. "You really think so?"

"I know so," you replied, and the smile he gave you in return was brighter than any star in the sky.

Before you knew it, five months had passed, and you were head over heels. Joshua had become not just your boyfriend, but your best friend, your confidant, your rock. He was the first person you wanted to share good news with, the one you turned to when you were feeling down.

One particularly memorable evening, you and Joshua strolled across campus, your fingers intertwined. The air was crisp with the promise of autumn, and the setting sun painted the sky in shades of orange and pink. You couldn't help but smile as you caught him humming softly under his breath – a habit you'd grown to adore over the past five months.

"What's that song?" you asked, nudging him playfully.

Joshua's cheeks flushed slightly, a bashful smile playing on his lips. "Oh, just something I've been working on. It's not ready yet."

You squeezed his hand encouragingly, your heart swelling with affection. "I'm sure it's beautiful. You know I love hearing you sing."

His eyes met yours, filled with warmth and something deeper – a vulnerability that both thrilled and scared you. "Maybe I'll play it for you someday," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

As you approached the campus coffee shop, a group of girls whispered and giggled, their eyes fixed on Joshua. You were used to this by now – being with one of the most popular guys on campus came with its share of attention. But Joshua seemed oblivious, his focus solely on you.

Inside the coffee shop, as you waited for your orders, you noticed Joshua's gaze drift to a couple in the corner. A flicker of emotion – was it sadness? – crossed his face before he quickly looked away.

"Joshua?" you probed gently, concern creeping into your voice. "Is everything okay?"

He plastered on a smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Of course. Just thinking about that assignment for Professor Kim's class."

You knew he was deflecting, but you didn't push. There was still so much about Joshua's past that remained a mystery to you. You'd learned early on that he was intensely private about certain aspects of his life, particularly his romantic history. Whenever you tried to broach the subject of past relationships, he'd change the topic or gently steer the conversation in a different direction.

You noticed that all the pictures on his social media only went back about a year, as if his life before that had been carefully erased. It was as though he was trying to start fresh, to reinvent himself. Part of you was curious, even a little worried about what he might be hiding. But another part of you trusted him implicitly, believing that if it was important, he'd tell you when he was ready.

"Don't worry about the past," he'd tell you whenever you hinted at wanting to know more, pulling you close and pressing a kiss to your forehead. "You're my present and my future."

And for a while, that was enough. The way Joshua looked at you, the way he held you, the way he seemed to anticipate your needs before you even voiced them – it all made you feel cherished, loved in a way you'd never experienced before. You told yourself that everyone had a past, and what mattered was the here and now.

But there were moments, fleeting and rare, when you'd catch a shadow pass over Joshua's face. A song on the radio would make him go quiet, or a certain scent would cause him to tense up momentarily. In those moments, you felt the weight of his unspoken history, and you couldn't help but wonder about the ghosts that still seemed to haunt him.

Despite these occasional moments of uncertainty, your relationship with Joshua continued to blossom. You fell into a comfortable rhythm, your lives intertwining in a way that felt both exciting and incredibly natural. Joshua became a fixture in your apartment, his textbooks mingling with yours on your desk, his hoodie draped over your chair.

Your friends teased you good-naturedly about how inseparable you'd become. "It's like you two are joined at the hip," your housemate Anna would say, rolling her eyes but smiling affectionately.

You couldn't deny it. Being with Joshua felt right in a way you couldn't quite explain. It was as if you'd found a piece of yourself you didn't even know was missing.

One night, as you lay tangled together on your bed, Joshua trailing lazy kisses along your collarbone, you felt an overwhelming surge of emotion.

"Joshua," you whispered, your voice thick with feeling.

He looked up at you, his eyes dark and intense in the dim light. "Yeah?"

"I... I love you," you said, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. You'd never said it before, had been too scared of the vulnerability it implied. But in that moment, with Joshua's arms around you and his heartbeat steady against your chest, you couldn't hold it back any longer.

For a moment, Joshua went very still, and you felt a flicker of panic. Had you said it too soon? But then his face broke into the most beautiful smile you'd ever seen, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

"I love you too," he said, his voice husky with emotion. "God, Y/N, I love you so much."

He kissed you then, pouring all his feelings into it, and you felt as though your heart might burst from happiness.

It was in moments like these that you forgot about the mysteries in Joshua's past, about the sadness that sometimes lingered in his eyes. All that mattered was the love you shared, the future you were building together.

But life, as you were about to learn, had a way of bringing the past crashing into the present when you least expected it.

It was an ordinary Friday when your world turned upside down. You were walking across campus, hand in hand with Joshua, discussing your plans for the weekend. The air was buzzing with the usual energy of students eager for the week to end, but something felt off. You noticed people staring more than usual, whispers following in your wake.

"Is it just me," you said to Joshua, trying to keep your voice light, "or are people acting weird today?"

Joshua frowned, his eyes scanning the faces around you. "Yeah, something's definitely up. But I have no idea what."

It wasn't until you got to class that you found out. Your best friend, Ela, pulled you aside before you could take your seat, her face a mask of concern.

"Have you heard the podcast?" she asked, her voice low and urgent.

You blinked, confused. "What podcast?"

Ela bit her lip, then pulled out her phone. "It's gone viral on campus. Everyone's talking about it. I... I think you need to hear this."

As she pressed play, a soft voice filled the air. "I thought he was my forever," the voice said, tinged with sadness. "He promised me the world, promised me eternity. But I guess forever has an expiration date."

Your heart sank as you listened, a cold dread settling in your stomach. The girl on the podcast never mentioned names, but the details were too specific to be coincidence. She talked about a boy who loved to sing, who had a smile that could melt hearts, who dreamed of becoming a performer.

She talked about Joshua. Your Joshua.

"And now he has a new girlfriend," the voice continued, a hint of bitterness creeping in. "She's everything I'm not. She’s popular, I saw her pictures and she’s so beautiful and she smiles pretty, and she has a lot of friends, and I bet she can parallel park. Everything I was always insecure about."

You felt like you couldn't breathe. This was Joshua's ex, laying bare all the pain and heartbreak for the world to hear. And in doing so, she'd inadvertently put a target on your back.

"Ela," you said, your voice barely above a whisper, "how many people have heard this?"

Your friend's expression was grim. "It's everywhere, Y/N. Twitter, Instagram, TikTok... people are reposting it like crazy."

You closed your eyes, trying to steady yourself. "Does... does Joshua know?"

"I don't think so," Ela replied. "At least, not yet. But Y/N... you need to talk to him. This is going to blow up, and fast."

You nodded, feeling numb. "I will. After class. I just... I need a moment to process this."

But as you sat through the lecture, you couldn't focus on a single word the professor said. Your mind was racing, replaying every moment with Joshua, every conversation, every tender look. Had it all been a lie? Was he still in love with his ex? And why hadn't he told you about her?

As soon as class ended, you rushed out, your heart pounding. You needed to find Joshua, to hear his side of the story. But as you stepped into the hallway, you were met with a sea of stares and whispers.

"That's her," you heard someone say. "The new girlfriend."

"I can't believe she'd do that to Yunha," another voice chimed in. "They were so perfect together."

You pushed through the crowd, fighting back tears. This couldn't be happening. It felt like a nightmare you couldn't wake up from.

You found Joshua outside the music building, his face pale and drawn. When he saw you, his eyes filled with a mixture of guilt and fear.

"Y/N," he said, reaching for you. "I can explain-"

But before he could say another word, you felt your world tilt on its axis. The stress, the shock, and the emotional turmoil of the day caught up with you all at once. Your vision blurred, your legs gave out, and the last thing you heard was Joshua calling your name as darkness enveloped you.

When you woke up, you were in the campus infirmary, the harsh fluorescent lights making you squint. Joshua was by your side, holding your hand, his face etched with worry.

"Hey," he said softly as your eyes fluttered open. "How are you feeling?"

You tried to sit up, wincing at the throbbing in your head. "What happened?"

"You fainted," Joshua explained, helping you into a sitting position. "The nurse said it was probably due to stress and low blood sugar. You've been out for about an hour."

As the fog in your mind cleared, the events of the day came rushing back. The podcast, the whispers, the revelations about Joshua's past. You pulled your hand away from his, suddenly feeling like you were touching a stranger.

"Joshua," you said, your voice hoarse, "we need to talk about the podcast."

He closed his eyes, pain etched across his features. "I know. Y/N, I'm so sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen. I should have told you about Yunha, about our history. I just... I thought if I could just start fresh, leave all that in the past, it wouldn't matter anymore."

You felt tears welling up in your eyes. "But it does matter, Joshua. It matters because now the whole campus thinks I'm some kind of homewrecker. It matters because you kept this huge part of your life from me. How am I supposed to trust you after this?"

Joshua reached for your hand again, and this time you let him take it. "I know I messed up," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "But Y/N, you have to believe me when I say that what I feel for you is real. More real than anything I've ever felt before."

You wanted to believe him. God knows, how you wanted to believe him. But the doubt had taken root, and you couldn't shake the feeling that everything you thought you knew about your relationship had been built on a foundation of lies.

"I need time," you said finally, pulling your hand away. "To think, to process all of this. Can you... can you give me that?"

The look of hurt on Joshua's face made your heart ache, but you knew you needed space to sort out your feelings. He nodded, standing up slowly.

"Of course," he said softly. "Take all the time you need. Just... please don't shut me out completely. When you're ready to talk, I'll be here."

As he left the infirmary, you felt a piece of your heart go with him. But you also felt a resolve hardening within you. You needed answers, and you were determined to get them – no matter how painful they might be.

The next few weeks were a nightmare. Everywhere you went, you could feel eyes on you, hear the whispers behind your back. People you thought were friends suddenly became cold and distant. Your Instagram, once filled with supportive comments and likes, became a battleground of hate and accusations.

"Home wrecker," one comment read. "How does it feel to steal someone else's happiness?"

Another was even more vicious: "You don't deserve him. Yunha and Joshua were soulmates. You're just a pretty distraction."

You tried to brush it off, to hold your head high, but each comment felt like a dagger to your heart. Even worse was the way some of your so-called friends began to distance themselves, afraid of being associated with the scandal.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," your classmate Hoshi said awkwardly one day after class. "It's just... people are talking, you know? And my girlfriend thinks maybe we shouldn't hang out so much anymore."

You nodded, trying to keep your expression neutral even as you felt another piece of your world crumbling. "It's fine, Hoshi. I understand."

But you didn't understand. Not really. How could people be so quick to judge, so eager to believe the worst about you without even knowing the full story?

You threw yourself into your studies, spending long hours in the library, trying to drown out the whispers and stares with the comforting rustle of pages and the scratch of your pen. But even in the quiet sanctuary of the stacks, you couldn't escape the weight of judgment that seemed to follow you everywhere.

One evening, as you were poring over your textbooks, you felt a presence beside you. Looking up, you saw Anna, your roommate, hovering uncertainly.

"Hey," she said softly, sliding into the chair across from you. "I've been worried about you. You've barely been in the room lately."

You shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "Just been busy with studying."

Anna reached out, gently closing your book. "Y/N, talk to me. Please. I know things have been rough, but I'm still your friend. I want to help."

Something in her tone, the genuine concern in her eyes, made the walls you'd built up over the past weeks crumble. Before you knew it, you were sobbing quietly, your shoulders shaking as Anna moved to wrap her arms around you.

"I don't know what to do," you whispered between sobs. "Everything's such a mess. I love Joshua, I really do, but how can I trust him after this? And everyone on campus hates me for something I didn't even do."

Anna stroked your hair soothingly. "Not everyone hates you, Y/N. The people who matter know you're not the person they're making you out to be. And as for Joshua... have you talked to him since that day?"

You shook your head. "I've been avoiding him. I just... I don't know what to say."

"Maybe it's time you did," Anna suggested gently. "You can't run from this forever. And who knows? Maybe hearing his side of the story will help you make sense of things."

You knew she was right, but the thought of facing Joshua, of reopening the wounds that were just starting to scab over, made your stomach churn with anxiety.

"I'll think about it," you promised, wiping your eyes. "Thanks, Anna. For being here, for not judging me."

She squeezed your hand. "That's what friends are for. And Y/N? Remember, this will pass. It might not feel like it now, but it will. You're stronger than you think."

Her words stayed with you as you packed up your books and made your way back to your apartment. The campus was quiet, most students already settled in for the night. As you walked, you found yourself thinking about Joshua, wondering what he was doing, if he was struggling as much as you were.

Almost without realizing it, your feet had carried you to his dorm building. You stood there for a long moment, debating whether to go in or turn back. Finally, taking a deep breath, you made your decision.

The walk to Joshua's room felt both endless and far too short. Before you were ready, you found yourself standing in front of his door, your heart pounding. You raised your hand to knock, then hesitated. What if he wasn't alone? What if he didn't want to see you?

But before you could talk yourself out of it, the door swung open. Joshua stood there, looking as surprised to see you as you were to suddenly be face-to-face with him. He looked tired, dark circles under his eyes, his hair messy as if he'd been running his hands through it repeatedly.

"Y/N," he breathed, his eyes wide. "I... what are you doing here?"

You swallowed hard, trying to find your voice. "I think... I think it's time we talked."

Joshua nodded, stepping back to let you in. His room was a mess, clothes strewn about, empty coffee cups littering his desk. It was so unlike the usually tidy Joshua that it made your heart ache.

"Sorry about the mess," he said, hurriedly clearing some books off his bed so you could sit. "I haven't been... I mean, things have been..."

"Rough?" you supplied, and he nodded, a ghost of a smile touching his lips.

"Yeah. Rough."

You sat on the edge of his bed, and he took the chair at his desk, leaving a careful distance between you. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence heavy with all the things left unsaid.

Finally, you took a deep breath. "Joshua, I need to know the truth. All of it. About Yunha, about your relationship, about why you never told me."

Joshua ran a hand through his hair, his expression pained. "I know I owe you an explanation. I just... I don't know where to start."

"The beginning," you said softly. "Start at the beginning."

And so he did. He told you about meeting Yunha in high school, how they'd bonded over their shared love of music. How their relationship had started as a friendship and slowly blossomed into something more.

"She was my first love," Joshua admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I thought... I really thought we'd be together forever. We had all these plans, you know? We were going to go to the same college, pursue our dreams together."

"What changed?" you asked, trying to ignore the twinge of jealousy you felt at the obvious affection in his voice when he spoke of Yunha.

Joshua's expression darkened. "Life changed. I got accepted here on a music scholarship, but Yunha... she didn't get in. We tried long-distance for a while, but it was hard. We were both changing, growing in different directions. And then..."

He trailed off, looking away. You waited, your heart pounding.

"And then?" you prompted gently.

Joshua took a shaky breath. "And then I met you. And everything changed again. I didn't mean for it to happen, Y/N. I wasn't looking to fall in love. But being with you... it felt right in a way nothing ever had before. It scared me how quickly and deeply I fell for you."

You felt tears pricking at your eyes. "So what happened with Yunha?"

"I broke up with her," Joshua said, his voice heavy with regret. "Over the phone. God, I was such a coward. I told her I couldn't do the long-distance thing anymore, that we were growing apart. But the truth is, I was already falling for you, even if I hadn't admitted it to myself yet."

The pieces were starting to fall into place, but there was still one thing you didn't understand. "Why didn't you tell me about her, Joshua? Why keep it a secret?"

He looked at you then, his eyes filled with a mixture of shame and pleading. "Because I was afraid. Afraid that if you knew about Yunha, about how badly I'd hurt her, you wouldn't want to be with me. I thought if I could just start fresh, be the person I wanted to be with you, maybe I could leave all that guilt and pain behind."

You sat there, processing everything he'd said. Part of you understood his fear, his desire to start anew. But another part of you was hurt that he hadn't trusted you enough to be honest from the beginning.

"Joshua," you said finally, "I appreciate you telling me all this. But... it doesn't change the fact that you lied to me. By omission, maybe, but still. How can I trust you after this?"

He leaned forward, his eyes intense. "I know I messed up, Y/N. I know I should have been honest from the start. But please believe me when I say that everything between us has been real. My feelings for you, they're more real than anything I've ever felt."

You wanted to believe him. God, how you wanted to. But the doubt that had taken root was hard to shake.

"I need time," you said, standing up. "To think, to process all of this. Can you... can you give me that?"

Joshua nodded, his expression a mixture of hope and resignation. "Of course. Take all the time you need. Just... please don't give up on us, Y/N. I love you. I'll do whatever it takes to make this right."

As you left his room, you felt a strange mixture of emotions. Relief at finally knowing the truth, pain at the realization of how much hurt your relationship had caused, and a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, you and Joshua could find a way through this.

But even as you tried to sort through your feelings, you knew that the hardest part was yet to come. The campus was still buzzing with gossip, and you were still at the center of it all. How could you and Joshua ever move forward when the whole world seemed determined to tear you apart?

The next day, as you walked to class, you could feel the weight of stares on you. But something had changed. Maybe it was the conversation with Joshua, or maybe it was just that you'd reached your breaking point, but suddenly, you were tired of being the victim.

You straightened your shoulders, held your head high, and met the stares head-on. You were not the villain in this story, and you were done letting others make you feel like one.

In your Literature class, you found yourself sitting next to a girl named Soo-yun, someone you'd never really talked to before. To your surprise, she turned to you with a small smile.

"Hey," she said softly. "I just wanted to say... I think it's really brave, how you're handling all of this. I can't imagine how hard it must be."

Her words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn't know how to respond. "I... thank you," you finally managed. "It means a lot to hear that."

Soo-yun nodded. "I know we don't really know each other, but if you ever need someone to talk to, or just to sit with at lunch so you're not alone, I'm here."

You felt a lump form in your throat, touched by this unexpected kindness. "I might take you up on that," you said, offering a genuine smile for what felt like the first time in weeks.

As the days passed, you found small pockets of support like this. Not everyone believed the rumors, and those who took the time to get to know you often found that the reality was far different from the gossip.

But even as things began to improve slightly on campus, you still struggled with your feelings for Joshua. You missed him desperately, but the hurt and betrayal still stung. You found yourself replaying your conversations, analyzing every interaction, trying to separate the truth from the lies.

One afternoon, as you sat in the campus coffee shop, lost in thought, a familiar voice broke through your reverie.

"Is this seat taken?"

You looked up to see Joshua standing there, two cups of coffee in hand, his expression a mixture of hope and uncertainty.

For a moment, you hesitated. But then you gestured to the empty chair across from you. "It's all yours."

Joshua sat down, sliding one of the coffees towards you. "I got your usual," he said softly. "I hope that's okay."

You nodded, wrapping your hands around the warm cup. "Thanks."

For a while, neither of you spoke, the silence stretching between you like a chasm. Finally, Joshua took a deep breath.

"Y/N, I've been doing a lot of thinking," he began. "About us, about everything that's happened. And I realized something. I've been so focused on trying to escape my past, on being the person I thought you wanted me to be, that I lost sight of who I really am."

You looked at him, surprised by the intensity in his voice. "What do you mean?"

Joshua ran a hand through his hair, a gesture you'd come to recognize as a sign of his nervousness. "I mean that I've been trying so hard to be perfect for you that I forgot that it was my imperfections, my past, all of it, that made me who I am. And who I am is someone who loves you, completely and utterly. Not because you're perfect, but because you're you."

You felt your heart skip a beat at his words, but you forced yourself to stay calm. "Joshua, I appreciate what you're saying, but-"

He held up a hand, cutting you off gently. "Please, let me finish. I know I messed up. I know I hurt you, and Yunha, and probably a lot of other people along the way. But I'm done running from my mistakes. I want to own them, learn from them, and hopefully, if you'll let me, make things right."

You studied his face, searching for any sign of insincerity. But all you saw was raw, honest emotion.

"What are you saying, Joshua?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He reached across the table, his hand hovering near yours, not quite touching. "I'm saying that I love you, Y/N. All of you. And I want you to know all of me. The good, the bad, the parts I'm proud of and the parts I'm not. If you'll give me another chance, I promise to be completely honest with you, always."

You felt tears pricking at your eyes, overwhelmed by the sincerity in his voice. Slowly, you reached out, closing the distance between your hands.

"I can't promise it'll be easy," you said softly. "There's a lot of trust to rebuild."

Joshua nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "I know. And I'm willing to do whatever it takes. For as long as it takes."

As you sat there, your hands intertwined, you felt a glimmer of hope. The road ahead wouldn't be easy, but maybe, just maybe, you and Joshua could find your way back to each other.

In the weeks that followed, you and Joshua took small, tentative steps towards rebuilding your relationship. You started with coffee dates, just like in the beginning, relearning each other and having the honest conversations you should have had from the start.

Joshua opened up about his past, sharing stories about his relationship with Yunha, his struggles with self-doubt, and his fears about the future. You, in turn, shared your own insecurities and the pain you'd experienced during the podcast fallout.

It wasn't always easy. There were moments of tension, of old hurts resurfacing. But there were also moments of laughter, of rediscovering the connection that had drawn you together in the first place.

Slowly but surely, the storm began to pass. People found new gossip to occupy themselves with, and the hateful comments began to taper off. You never heard directly from Yunha, but the original podcast was taken down, and you liked to think that maybe, just maybe, she had found her own path to healing.

A year after the podcast incident, you and Joshua sat on the roof of your dorm, watching the sunset. Your hands were intertwined, your head resting on his shoulder. The campus sprawled out below you, peaceful in the fading light.

"Do you ever regret it?" you asked softly, breaking the comfortable silence. "Getting involved with me, going through all of that?"

Joshua was quiet for a moment, then turned to look at you, his eyes filled with a love so deep it took your breath away.

"Never," he said firmly, squeezing your hand. "What we went through... it was hard, yeah. But it made us stronger. It showed me that what we have is real, that it can withstand anything."

You nodded, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at his words. "I feel the same way," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "We've come so far, haven't we?"

Joshua smiled, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "We have. And we still have so far to go. But Y/N, I want you to know that I'm in this for the long haul. Whatever comes our way, we'll face it together."

You snuggled closer to him, feeling safe and loved in a way you'd never experienced before. "I like the sound of that," you murmured. "Together."

As you sat there, watching the last rays of sunlight paint the sky in vibrant hues, you reflected on the journey that had brought you to this moment. The pain, the growth, the love that had weathered the storm and come out stronger on the other side.

You might not have a ring on your finger, might not have all the answers about what the future held. But you had something far more valuable – a love that had been tested by fire and emerged stronger for it. A love built on honesty, on acceptance of each other's flaws and imperfections.

The future stretched out before you, full of possibilities and challenges. But with Joshua by your side, you felt ready to take on whatever life might throw your way, one day at a time.

As the first stars began to twinkle in the darkening sky, Joshua began to hum softly, a melody you hadn't heard before. You closed your eyes, letting the gentle tune wash over you.

"Is that a new song?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to break the spell of the moment.

Joshua nodded, a shy smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, I've been working on it for a while now. It's... well, it's about us. About everything we've been through."

Your heart swelled with emotion. "Can I hear it? The whole thing, I mean."

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Okay, but remember it's still a work in progress."

Clearing his throat, Joshua began to sing softly, his voice carrying on the gentle evening breeze.

As the last note faded away, you found yourself wiping tears from your eyes. The raw emotion in Joshua's voice, the honesty of the lyrics – it was overwhelming in the best possible way.

"Joshua," you breathed, "that was beautiful. I can't believe you wrote that for us."

He ducked his head, a blush creeping across his cheeks. "I wanted to capture everything we've been through, everything we mean to each other. I know it's not perfect-"

You cut him off with a kiss, pouring all your love and gratitude into it. When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless.

"It's perfect because it's us," you said softly. "Thank you for sharing it with me."

Joshua pulled you closer, and you settled back against him, both of you content to watch as the sky darkened and more stars appeared.

"You know," Joshua said after a while, his voice thoughtful, "a year ago, I never would have had the courage to share an unfinished song like that. I was so caught up in trying to be perfect, in hiding the messy parts of myself."

You nodded, understanding. "And now?"

He smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Now I know that it's okay to be a work in progress. That the people who truly love you will accept all of you, rough edges and all."

His words resonated deeply with you. Over the past year, you'd both learned so much about vulnerability, about the strength that comes from being truly seen and accepted.

"Speaking of works in progress," you said, sitting up to look at him, "have you given any more thought to what you want to do after graduation? It's coming up faster than we think."

Joshua's expression turned serious. "I have, actually. I've been thinking about it a lot lately."

You waited, giving him space to gather his thoughts.

"I want to pursue music," he said finally, his voice firm with resolve. "Not just as a hobby, but as a career. I know it won't be easy, and my parents probably won't be thrilled, but... it's what I love. It's who I am."

Pride swelled in your chest. You knew how much courage it took for Joshua to choose this path, to prioritize his passion over the safer, more conventional career his parents had always envisioned for him.

"I'm so proud of you," you said, squeezing his hand. "And I'll be right there supporting you every step of the way."

Joshua's eyes shone with gratitude. "What about you? Have you decided on grad school?"

You nodded, excitement bubbling up inside you. "I got the acceptance letter yesterday. I was waiting for the right moment to tell you."

"Y/N, that's amazing!" Joshua exclaimed, pulling you into a tight hug. "I knew you could do it. You're going to be an incredible psychologist."

As you hugged him back, you felt a sense of rightness settle over you. This was what love was supposed to be – supporting each other's dreams, celebrating each other's successes.

"You know," you said as you pulled back, "we should probably start thinking about where we're going to live after graduation. With you pursuing music and me starting grad school, we might need to look into getting an apartment together."

The words were out before you fully realized the weight of what you were suggesting. Living together was a big step, one you hadn't really discussed before.

Joshua's eyes widened slightly, but then a slow smile spread across his face. "Are you asking me to move in with you, Y/N?"

You felt a blush creeping up your neck, but you held his gaze. "I guess I am. What do you think?"

He pretended to consider it for a moment, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm, let me think. Waking up next to you every morning, making breakfast together, having a space that's truly ours... Yeah, I think I could get on board with that."

You laughed, swatting his arm playfully. "Is that a yes, then?"

Joshua's expression softened, becoming serious again. "It's absolutely a yes. I love you, Y/N, and nothing would make me happier than building a life with you."

As you sealed the decision with a kiss, you felt a sense of excitement for the future bubbling up inside you. You knew there would be challenges ahead – the stress of grad school, the uncertainty of Joshua's music career, the everyday trials of living together for the first time. But you also knew that together, you could handle anything life threw your way.

The next few months were a whirlwind of activity. Between finishing up your final semester, apartment hunting, and preparing for the next chapter of your lives, you and Joshua barely had a moment to breathe. But through it all, your relationship continued to grow stronger.

You found a small apartment not far from campus, cozy and full of character. The day you moved in, surrounded by boxes and the chaos of merging two lives into one space, you couldn't stop smiling. This was the beginning of something new, something uniquely yours and Joshua's.

As you unpacked, you came across a familiar box – the one where you'd stored all the mementos from your relationship. Concert tickets, dried flowers, handwritten notes. But there was something new tucked inside, something you didn't recognize.

"Joshua?" you called out, holding up a small, beautifully bound notebook. "What's this?"

He came into the room, a soft smile playing on his lips when he saw what you were holding. "Ah, I was wondering when you'd find that. It's for you – well, for us, really."

You opened the notebook, your breath catching as you realized what it was. On the first page, in Joshua's neat handwriting, were the words: "Our Story: Past, Present, and Future."

"I thought we could use it to write down our memories, our dreams for the future," Joshua explained, coming to sit beside you. "And maybe, someday, we can look back on it and see how far we've come."

Tears pricked at your eyes as you flipped through the pages. Some were already filled – recollections of your first date, the lyrics to the song Joshua had written for you, little sketches of moments you'd shared. But most of the pages were blank, waiting to be filled with the story of your life together.

"Joshua, this is..." you trailed off, overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness of the gift.

He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. "I know we've been through a lot, and there were times when I was afraid to confront the past. But now, I want to embrace all of it – the good and the bad. Because it all led us here, to this moment."

You leaned into him, feeling a profound sense of peace. "I love you," you said simply, because in that moment, those three words encompassed everything you felt.

"I love you too," Joshua replied, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Now, what do you say we write our first entry as official roommates?"

Laughing, you grabbed a pen and snuggled closer to Joshua. As you began to write, describing the chaos and joy of move-in day, you felt a sense of excitement for all the blank pages ahead – pages waiting to be filled with your shared story.

The coming years would bring their own challenges and triumphs. There would be late nights of studying for you and long hours in the recording studio for Joshua. There would be arguments over dirty dishes and whose turn it was to do laundry. There would be moments of doubt, of wondering if you were on the right path.

But there would also be quiet mornings spent cuddling in bed, lazy Sundays exploring your new neighborhood, and the thrill of celebrating each other's achievements. There would be the day Joshua landed his first real gig, and the night you aced your first major presentation in grad school. There would be family dinners, game nights with friends, and impromptu dance parties in your tiny living room.

Through it all, that notebook would be there, slowly filling with the story of your life together. A tangible reminder of the love you'd built, the challenges you'd overcome, and the future you were creating together.

As you closed the notebook that first night in your new apartment, you looked at Joshua and saw your whole world reflected in his eyes. You didn't know exactly what the future held, but you knew one thing for certain – whatever came your way, you'd face it together, writing your story one day at a time.

After all, your love wasn't just skin deep. It was woven into the very fabric of who you were, a bond that had been tested and strengthened by every challenge you'd faced. It was the skin you were in, the air you breathed, the truth you believed in.

And as you fell asleep that night, wrapped in each other's arms in your new home, you knew that this was just the beginning of your forever. A forever that you would define together, day by day, moment by moment, love by love.

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mooishbeam · 2 years ago

Text

『♡』 Losing Game

♡ featuring: ajax x f!reader

♡ summary: simmering feelings boil over as you're confronted by the man you hate the most; tartaglia, your boss. wc: 3.1k+

♡ cw/tw: afab, degradation, humiliation, creampie, squirting, light choking, sadism, throat-fucking, cum play, fingering, overstimulation, brat taming, mind break, pet names (doll, baby)

notes: hiii, the positive response from the last one motivated me to get this done just in time for Fontaine. kinda long this time so sorry abt that. ajax my beloved <3 art by sonomi_rap5 on twitter comments and reblogs are appreciated!

Working for the fatui wasn’t easy in the slightest, especially when you aren’t on harbinger status. You were sent on long, grueling tasks only to be met with loose interpretations of gratitude and sometimes silence from the higher-ups, in which most wouldn’t even glance in your direction. Pleasant beginnings became a sour afterthought, and your perception of the fatui changed drastically. Your grievances, however, weren’t helped by your quick-witted snappy attitude and competitiveness; Presumably why you ended up under the division of Tartaglia. You assumed a binding contract from the capricious redhead wouldn’t mean much, but that was quickly proven false.

You'd rather climb every mountain in Snezhnaya than spend a minute talking to that airhead. He was instructed to keep a watchful eye on you during missions despite the competence you demonstrated. It was insulting. Anything he did you could do better. It’d been proven multiple times from the petty challenges you created. How much water you could drink, how long you can stay up. You won every time. How could you not hate him? His feigned ignorance and careless flirtations were enough to drive you mad. “Please, call me Ajax” he’d say, winking. The simpering smile he gave you after every comeback shot daggers in your pride. What made you particularly furious was the incessant drum of your heart whenever he was near you. The warm autumn morning that was his hair. The cool still waves his eyes sent to your core. You couldn’t fall for him, or else he’d have one up on you. You had to be stronger than that. You quelled your stress in a tattered journal gifted years ago.

“Hey, comrade!” His bubbly tone makes knots in your stomach, and you choose to stay silent. You’re hoping this mission will go without a hitch, as long as he doesn’t get in your way. Ajax lets out a teasing whistle.

“Yeesh, tough crowd.” As you’re collecting the items needed for the deal, he rocks back and forth on his heels directly in front of you, absent-mindedly watching.

You whip your head to face him, “You can’t see I’m doing something right now?”

“Oh, I see what you’re doing. But this isn’t entertaining.”

“Unlike you, your majesty, I have no choice but to be perfect. I apologize if that’s not exciting enough for you.” You retort with sarcastic curtsy.

“Haha! You’re always a pleasure to be around, (Y/N). My faithful, kind-hearted companion.” he said with a taunting wink. You're beyond flustered, haphazardly stuffing the remains in your bag and lugging it over your shoulder.

“Let's go.” You say lazily. He follows closely, arms crossed behind his head. “Calling me like a dog, how romantic.”

“If you don’t want to be called like a dog stop acting like one.”

“You could at least give me a treat if I'm gonna be your dog.” He looks at you, making his best impression of puppy-eyes. You bite back a few choice words, and glare at him instead. He isn’t fazed by this and flashes a beguiling smile that makes your ears warm. Glancing at the weight you’re shouldering, he comments, “You sure you don’t need any help with that?”

“No. The last person I need help from is you.”

You and Ajax regroup in an alleyway deep in Fontaine’s bustling city. You are assigned to retrieve a rare gem for one of Pantalone’s elaborate schemes, and you quickly prepare yourself for this interaction. Ajax studies you, leaning against one of the walls.

“Can’t you be a little nicer to your superior? If it wasn’t for me, you’d be in a lot of trouble half the time. You’re welcome.” You scoff. “I don’t know why you’re here in the first place, I have no problem doing this on my own.”

“I’m sure. Don’t mind me, Ms. Independent.” A sly smirk crawled up his face. “Fucking asshole” you mumble under your breath. “I didn’t catch that. Can you repeat it?”

“I said you’re a fucking asshole.” After a few moments of silence, Ajax grips his chest in feigned agony. “Ouch. I’m gutted!”

Just as you're about to leave, he snatches your wrist, now only mere inches away from your face. His hand gently brushes away the strays of hair on your forehead. “There you go, doll. Gotta be perfect for your debut.” A whirlwind of emotions strangles your ability to think clearly, you pull your wrist away and start speed walking, attempting to gather yourself before you get to the jewelry store.

You enter the empty store and are immediately confronted by the jeweler.

“Good afternoon, ma’am. Do you have an appointment?” You proclaim your business and appointment under a fake identity, posturing yourself as wealthy. “May I see identification please.” Of course, you say. As you’re looking through your purse you notice something: there’s no identification here. Surely you weren’t that negligent over something so simple. You rummaged through the other compartments, trying to stay calm in front of an increasingly concerned jeweler. But it’s not there. How is this possible. Your nerves are heightened and the anxiety of failing the mission starts to creep in. “I made an appointment with Lottie; she’ll be able to provide reference. I believe I left my passport at home.” The jeweler seems slightly disappointed. “Unfortunately, ma’am, I am not allowed to present any gems without identification.” Your heart beats faster. “Well, sir, I’m very busy and I’m afraid this is my only chance to close on this item. You wouldn’t want to push away a well-paying customer.”

“I have no choice in the matter. If you have no proof of identification, I must ask you to leave.” Should I take it by force? You thought, thinking about the next possible option. As you’re about to handle the rest physically, the door swings open. Ajax comes up to you, placing his arm around your waist.

“My love, were you able to get the gem we were discussing?” You’re annoyed, but you improvise and look at him as if he’s the love of your life. “Not yet, dear.” Suddenly, he places a plush kiss on your lips. You’re stunned and speechless, filled with anger and wanting.

The jeweler interjects. “And are you the husband? Would you happen to have any identification.”

“Yes, sir.” Ajax pulls out a passport and fake birth certificate unbeknownst to you and begins to close the deal. The rest of the meeting you sit speechless.

“Thank you for your patronage.” are the last words you hear as you leave the store, Ajax guiding you with his hand. You’re silent the whole way back to your room.

You turn your bag upside down and begin looking for the mismatched documents. All while Ajax stares at you expectingly. You ignore his presence.

“So... how about a ‘you’re welcome?’”

“For what.”

He lets out a mocking laugh. “For what? I don’t know, maybe saving your ass back there? You froze, and you were unprepared, Ms. Independent.”

“I wouldn’t have forgotten it if it wasn’t for the obnoxious bullshit you did this morning.”

“That’s dishonest, I wasn’t even talking!” he pretends to be hurt. “Admit that you need me.”

“Fuck off.”

“No.” His light-hearted inflection vexes you and makes it hard for you to focus as you read through the mountains of pages in your folder.

While your head is down, Ajax comes across the tattered notebook just peeking out from under the bed. Storing the months—no years—of feelings you had regarding the fatui. Regarding him. Some time passes and you finally raise your head, met with the horrifying reveal of him skimming through the journal, mischief coating the deep void in his eyes. You spring up and reach for the book but he’s faster, grabbing your arms and pinning them above your head.

“This is really good stuff... really good.” You shout profanities over and over, anything to get his attention away from the book. But he continues to read as if you’re not there. When he’s done reading, he lets you go, and you instantly try to swing at him. Before you can land a hit, he grabs you by the throat and stares into your soul, almost as if he’s trying to swallow your being.

“You’ve been acting like a little fucking brat all over a crush? Not very big girl of you.”

“I know you think you’re beyond charming, but I promise you don’t have that effect on me.”

“Really? Let’s play a game then.” He knew you’d accept just to beat him at anything.

“If you don’t cum by the end of this journal, I’ll apologize for everything. I’ll do whatever you want. But if I win-” he steps closer to you, “You have to do everything I say.”

You almost burst out laughing. Such an easy challenge, how hard could it be?

You're panting, trying your hardest to focus on the words that seemed to melt off the page. Your back lays comfortably against his chest, with his legs keeping yours spread.

“Next page, baby.”

“Don’t call me that.” Your words are lenient and breathy. Your underwear is still on, but Ajax’s fingers are covered in your slick, playing with the erect nub just enough to make you fuzzy. “You look like you’re tapping out.”

“This? This is nothing” You respond meekly, continuing the reading.

“I can’t help but have fe-elings for himph.”

“There’s some nice things about me in here, why aren’t you always like this?” He says, circling and dipping into your gushy folds, smearing the glossy mess all over your vulva. You try so hard to read the letters, squirming from his touch. The sensation pulsing from your clit to your brain made you incoherent; the more you move, the more he moves. The contents of the journal are humiliating, detailing your romantic and sexual attraction towards Ajax, and your attempts to stifle these feelings. He was getting a kick out of seeing your flustered face stammer over his appearance. He plays with the precum glazing his fingers, widening them to watch the trail it left. Only two more pages left.

“I-I-” You couldn’t get through the first sentence on the last page. Your thighs are trembling, and your pussy began to twitch. “Uh, s-shit. Ajax, wai-.” He trails his fingers over your clit spelling his name, then pushes two inside, fighting back an amused grin. “You’re almost done” Teasing in your ear. You bite back the moans threatening to escape; at the very least you couldn’t give him that satisfaction. He watches you fall apart, shaking more aggressively before your body gives in and you cum on his fingers.

“Uh oh, that’s unfortunate.” You try your best to catch your breath, but he rides out your orgasm, making you subconsciously grind yourself into his palm. Then you’re struck with the reality of losing. He licks his fingers clean, eyes rolling back from the taste. “So fucking good, does being a bitch make you taste better?” You were too embarrassed from the loss to retort. “You won.”

“I did.” He lifts you off the bed and onto the floor, your legs still recovering. He hikes your shirt up, trailing kisses up your stomach until he gets to your nipples. He flicks and sucks one while kneading the other one, occasionally biting the slightly bruising flesh. “Not gonna moan for me, huh baby?”

“Not in the slightest.” You rasped. He smiles and blows cool air on your tits, sending a rippling feeling down your back. “That’s okay, you’ll give in.”

Ajax unbuttons his pants, and they drop in front of you. Unsheathing his thick throbbing length, drooling with desire. His balls are full and heavy, and as you look up at him his eyes are clouded with lust. The pretty freckles that dotted his arms and chest are much more visible now, and so are his battle scars. He breathed in deep, "take care of this for me, yeah?” You wanted to say no and say fuck this; but there was another side that wanted him desperately, that needed this.

You force your jaw open to accommodate his size and push yourself halfway on his girth, feeling his cockhead hit the back of your throat. Once you feel like you got it in, you slobber all over his cock, dampening his balls and begin to bob your head. You stroke with one hand and massage his sack with the other, leading to a breathy whimper from him. “Ah fuck, feels good. Suck it slow, slut.” You begin to move faster while cupping his balls, obscene noises leaving your sopping mouth. You have tears running down your sweating face trying to keep up with the vigorous movement of your tongue. You feel him throb a few times, his moans and grunting getting progressively louder.

“Need more” is all he says, putting one of his legs on the bed and grabbing both sides of your head. Before you can register what’s happening. Ajax pushes your head onto his cock until your nose reaches his pubes. He lets out a breathy sigh and starts throat fucking you with an animalistic grip. The gagging and spit noises echo off the walls, along with his continuous whimpering. You wanted to hate him, but your blood was buzzing, and your panties were drenched. “Shut up and take it” followed by broken fuck’s and yes’s. He threw his head back, hair slicked and torso gleaming with sweat, “look at me.” You reluctantly look up, addicted to his passionate expression. “I want you looking at me when I cum.” You grip his thighs, and he twitches a few times before spurting white, thick cum down your throat. He pulls out slightly to drag his semen over your lips and then taps it on your face, holding you in place.

“What are you doing? Clean me up.” he husked. You clean him up without complaint and lick your lips, forced to maintain eye contact with him the entire way.

In one swoop, Ajax picks you up and throws you on the bed, eager to get your underwear off. “You proved your point, stop being an ass" you slurred out. The room was intoxicating, all you could smell and feel was him. He takes your panties off, spreading your pussy to watch the slippery puddle dribble down your thighs. He shoves your panties in your mouth, “Fucking liar, I know you like it. Can’t taste how wet you are?” He aligns himself with your aching hole, keeping your arch steady with you bent over. Shoving his cock in, moaning from the feeling of your body perfectly molding for him. Ajax starts moving at a rapid pace quickly, his big slender hands tightly gripping your ass. The sound of wet sticky skin slapping together and the squelching from your core made you shudder. It was all too much; you have been teetering on an orgasm since you went down on him, and the way his balls thump your clit make you quiver.

“Whiny brat. Just needed to be fucked good to shut up, yeah?” he groaned through his words. Tears were coming down your eyes now, you can’t tell if he’s edging you by accident or on purpose. But right now, you’d do anything. He turns your head to face him, gazing at your tear-stricken face. “Aww, you cryin’ for me?” He stops to kiss and lick your tears, delighted by your tenderness. Taking the panties out your mouth, he brings your body flush with his and continues to pump inside with you looking at him.

“So sweet all of a sudden, where’d that attitude go?” The morals you had for moaning went missing and mewls and soft whimpers began to leave you. “Let it out, baby.” You’re suddenly babbling please’s begging for him to let you have it. “Pathetic, can’t even get off on your own. You need me that bad?” You nod repeatedly, dangerously close to your release. He had a dark look in his eyes and a sinful smirk. “Yeah? Okay, you’ve been so good.” He reaches down and starts to rub your clit ceaselessly, kissing your cheek. Your whimpers become loud shaky moans and he finally lets you have it, shockwaves going through your body as you’re dissolved into pleasure. You pulsate through the explosion, jello-brain and boneless as your cum leaks down his thighs. Just as he pulls out and flips you over. You’re dizzy and drunk off him, legs shaking indefinitely from the intensity. Then he puts it back in. “You can take one more, yeah baby?” Your overstimulated and violent shaking wasn’t enough for him to stop. He wanted you ruined. He keeps going, grabbing your face to kiss you deeply, tongues intertwining with each other. He feeds you deep strokes, tip prodding your spot every time and watching as your tits bounce. You throw your head back, eyes rolling to the back of your skull. You have no thoughts, only his name rings in your head. You can feel the coil inside you winding up, pleasure beyond the searing pain of your swollen pussy. He looks down at you and smiles.

“Look at me." You can’t hear anything at this point, not even the sound of your own voice. So, it’s a pleasant surprise when your voice carries his name, “Ajax, Ajax”, chanting as if he’s your god. “Fuck. Gonna cum. Let it out. baby” he says grinning. You’re clamping him so tight and throbbing until you ultimately shatter with him, releasing a stream of squirt onto him and the sheets. He bucks into you, letting out thick spurts, panting heavily as he watches you in disarray. You instinctively hold on to his arms, trembling uncontrollably as you try to search for breath and ride it out. You’re completely hysterical and sobbing from the emotion it ripped into you. You were in shambles and Ajax couldn’t help but smile out of happiness for what he caused. “I’m so sorry.” you say repeatedly, eyes shut and lined with tears. He got closer to wrap you in his arms, and you cling to him for stability. “It’s okay, I’m here for you.”

You didn’t want to talk about it when you woke up. You were hoping he’d be gone, and therefore wouldn’t have to deal with the humiliation. But there he was, watching you sleep just as the sun rose. His ginger hair danced with golden flecks of light, and he looked at you like you were the only person on Teyvat.

“Creep.”

“Good morning to you too, baby~.”

#childe tartaglia ajax #ajax x reader #genshin ajax #genshin smut #childe smut #tartaglia smut #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #genshin impact #genshin x reader #ajax smut

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aurorawritestoescape · 10 months ago

Text

GOING DOWN || 3,4 k

Joel Miller x f!reader | Frankie Morales x f!reader

Summary: you have a hot boyfriend and a hot ex who’s still obsessed with you. Why not get the best of both worlds?

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, darkish!reader, toxic!reader, boyfriend!Joel, ex who desperately wants you back!Frankie, soft!Frankie, infidelity (reader’s), praise kink, size kink, unprotected piv, creampie, handjob, m!oral, pussy eating, cum eating, f!masturbation, stalking (reader loves it), voyeurism, exhibitionism, swearing, dirty talk, pet names princesa-princess, mi amor- my love. Reader wears a dress. Pics are for the mood only, reader has no specific physical descriptions.

A/n: I have no excuse for this one. I don’t know why I look at our baby Frankie and want to do all this. I’m not sorry though, it’s hot to me and also fictional😉 the title’s inspired by the song “I’m goin’ down” by Mary J. Blige and Frankie’s special talent😏 Happy Frankie Friday, my loves!💖

Written for @burntheedges ‘s roll-a-trope challenge - my trope was Exes. Thank you for the fun event, Kate❤️ Kisses to wonderful @milla-frenchy for beta-ing this filth😘 dividers by @saradika-graphics

MASTERLIST || more Frankie - The Hoodie

You are looking out of the window at the night street, illuminated by a few golden lights, when you feel Joel’s heavy hands on your hips and then his lips plant a kiss on your neck from behind.

“Let’s go to bed,” he mumbles, his gruff voice coated with lust.

“No, fuck me right here.”

He smiles against your neck.

“Really? Want the neighbors to see us, dirty girl?”

“Yeah. Neighbors,” you smirk, not tearing your eyes from the car parked outside your apartment building. Your ex’s Pickup.

Joel pierces you with his big stiff cock and before you start moaning like a whore, you open the window a little so you two can not only be visible, but also perfectly heard from the street. Cool autumn air hits your heated face and your nipples get hard under your thin dress.

"Oh yeah, Joel! Harder!" you cry out, reveling in the way he's dragging his huge manhood in and out your channel. You're taking it like a good girl-always wet and tight for your boyfriend's cock.

Your fingers swiftly pull down your neckline, exposing your bouncing tits to whoever might look through your window. And you're sure that someone is looking.

Not knowing about your sick game, Joel is grunting loudly, thrusting deep and hard into you, your back flush with his broad chest. He’s rubbing his stubble against your neck, then your cheek until you turn your face to him and your lips lock in a sloppy and passionate kiss, while he’s holding you close, drawing pleasure from your tight pussy.

Joel’s hand snakes under your dress and having found your naked cunt, begins swirling your clit between two thick fingers. You part from his mouth, whimpering loudly.

“Yeah, baby! Let ‘em hear what a slut you are for me. Getting fucked in front of the whole neighborhood.”

His words push you over the edge and you come on his cock, crying out from pleasure. You don’t fake it. There is no need. He is that good.

Joel follows you soon and shoots his thick warm cum into your pulsating core. When he stills and pulls out, you hastily fix your dress and grab your dog’s leash.

“I’ll walk Tom.” You kiss Joel with tongue and leave the apartment, leaking your boyfriend’s load with every move.

When you step out into the night, you walk along the street a few meters and tie your dog to a street pole. On your legs, trembling from the hard orgasm, you saunter to your ex’s truck.

The passenger door is already open for you when you reach it and you get in, feeling cold air lap at your pussy, coated in Joel’s cum.

A pair of beautiful kicked puppy eyes greet you there and you turn slightly in your seat to see your ex better in the dark car.

Frankie’s wearing a denim shirt, dark blue jeans and his favorite baseball cap that you always hated for hiding his gorgeous curls. He looks the same as the day you left him. Maybe the bags under his eyes are darker but it could be the poor lighting at fault.

“What are you doing here, Frankie?” Your voice is soft and calm, with a pinch of sadness thrown in for his sake.

The man nervously fixes his cap and glances at you from the side, like a guilty dog. He clears his throat and lies,

“ ‘m checking on you.”

His velvety voice caresses your ear, it’s soft like everything about his character. He starts chewing on his lip while his eyes are staring into the darkness ahead of him.

“No, you’re stalking me, baby. I see your Pickup everywhere I go. Near my work last week. I spotted you at the bar today. And now you’re here… spying on me through the window.”

He proves that he watched your little show when he spreads his thighs wider and bucks his hips, unwillingly attracting your attention to his big bulge. You both are quiet for a few moments.

“I miss you,” he finally admits, turning to you. His eyes are sad and sappy and you should feel sorry, bad or at least sympathetic but the overwhelming feeling in your heart is a triumph. He’s not over you. You’re the best he’s ever had and he desperately wants you back.

You’ve been feeling elated lately when you noticed Frankie stalking you. It’s been fun playing with him and you don’t plan on stopping. You pull your brows together and coo,

“I understand, baby, but you can’t keep coming here. Joel’s a jealous type. I don’t want any problems.”

While you’re talking, Frankie’s nodding along, eyes downcast. You place your hand on his shoulder and give it a comforting squeeze. His own big paw flies to yours and after bringing it to his mouth, he presses his lips to your palm. Your heart flutters at his need for you and your pussy tingles when you remember the way his plush lips were leaving kisses all over your body weeks ago.

“Baby,” you breathe out and he looks at you, not letting go of your hand. You see tears in his eyes, not enough to spill but enough to fuel up your ego. His eyes are so pretty like that, wet lashes and glossy chocolatey irises.

“Aww, Frankie,” you coo and open your arms to him. He rushes to you as if you’re his lifeline, wrapping his big strong arms around your torso and burying his face in the crook of your neck.

You’re hugging him back, trying not to suffocate in his steel embrace and rubbing his muscular broad back. Frankie’s as big as Joel, both are much bigger than you, and warmth spreads deep in your core when his scent envelops you just like his body.

You smile when you notice him still wearing your favorite cologne.

Soon your body craves something more than just a hug so your lips part and a soft whimper escapes your mouth. You know well that your pretty noises always make him wild.

Your ex reacts immediately and you feel an open mouth kiss on your neck.

“Frankie.” Your tone is scolding yet fake and you sigh deeply, brushing his chest with your barely covered breasts. Your ex grumbles at the sensation and then whispers, his voice already strained with lust.

“I miss you so much.”

You hug him tighter and feel his hot breath on your cleavage when he leans lower to plant another kiss on your collarbone. His cap slides off his head and falls on the floor but he doesn’t care. Looking down at his beautiful dark curls you run your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp with your nails and Frankie almost roars against your chest. His arms pull you closer to him, even though your torso is already flush with his. He slightly lifts you off the seat and you tug at his hair in warning, steel in your tone.

“Put me down, Frankie.”

He listens to you like he always does but your roughness earns another loud groan from him. You smile, imagining how hard his cock must be now.

Frankie leaves soft kisses on your clothed chest, your belly and soon his head is resting on your lap, while his arms are wrapped around your hips as if he’s scared you’ll float away.

You’re stroking his head, marveling at the silky waves of his hair, shining even in the dim light, and slightly tilt your hips up when his prominent nose pokes your mound through the thin fabric of your dress. As if thinking about the same thing, Frankie breathes in full lungs of your arousal and a guttural moan vibrates against your covered pussy.

“I miss her, mi amor,” you barely hear him mumble and you sigh. Recently satiated by Joels’s pounding, your core gets reignited with sticky desire and you bite your lip, your dark gaze sliding over his sexy shoulders and his head, with his face hidden. You part your legs just slightly, letting him closer to your needy pussy.

Like a dog sniffing out his favorite treat, Frankie’s nuzzling your lap, and his lips and nose are brushing against your thighs, your lower belly, your cunt through the fabric.

You gasp when his fingers dig into your soft hips a bit too hard and he hastily relaxes his grip and looks up at you.

“Sorry, princesa.” His blown out eyes are filled with guilt and want and you give him a smile, cupping his scruffy cheek.

“It’s ok, baby, just be careful with me, ‘k? No marks.”

“Yes, yes, of course, mi amor,” he murmurs, returning his head back onto your lap.

After a couple of minutes in his arms, the fire in your core morphs into an ache and you squirm under him with impatience.

“I should go, Frankie. Joel’s gonna worry.”

“No, please,” he almost whines, hugging you tighter. “I—,” he stumbles.

“Yes, baby?”

“Can I —? Can I see her?”

He’s staring up at you and you tilt your head to the side, faking confusion.

“Who?”

He knows that you understand but you need him to say it. So he plays by your rules. Like he always does.

“Can I see your beautiful pussy?” He sits up, facing you, his huge body squeezed in between the wheel and his seat. His bulge looks even more prominent now and you gush at the thought that he must be leaking into his boxers.

“Oh, Frankie, baby, you know I have a boyfriend. I can’t.”

His pleading eyes are fixed on you as he begs,

“Please, mi amor, just a look. I miss her so much. I miss you. Please.”

With another fake sigh you glance out of the window to check the surroundings, and after finding the street empty, you turn back to him.

“Ok, just for a second. Get in the back.”

“Thank you, mi amor,” he mumbles, hurrying out of the truck.

You squeeze between the front seats and sit down, turning to Frankie as he joins you at the back of the car. Your ex impatiently grabs the hem of your dress but you stop him.

“No one should know about this, understand?”

Frankie nods eagerly, mumbling yes’s like a junkie before getting a hit of his drug and you let him lift your dress and expose your naked pussy.

Your hands clutch the dress against your waist, and your legs are pressed together but it’s evident how wet you’re - your folds shine with Joel’s cum and your slick arousal.

Frankie’s breath hitches and his broad chest expands, straining his shirt.

“Beautiful,” he praises as his hand flies to the apex of your thighs.

“Nah-ah”, you grab his big paw midair and place it on top of your thigh.

“No touching. You wanted to look, right?”

“Yeah,” Frankie halfheartedly agrees, furrowed brows showing his discontent. “Then at least open your legs, princesa. Need to see her better.”

You try to contain your excitement as you tut at your ex,

“You’re so naughty, baby.”

You slowly part your thighs wide enough for your pussy to bloom in front of his hungry eyes.

Frankie’s mouth goes slack and his gaze clouds up when he sees your glistening pussy lips, puffy clit and your inviting hole. You shift a little on the seat, leaving wetness on the leather, and when you clench your walls in anticipation, you both see a little bit of pearly white liquid slide out of your entrance.

“Is this…?” Frankie mumbles, not tearing his eyes off your recently used cunt.

“Yeah. I know you’ve been watching Joel fuck me so don’t pretend that you’re surprised. My pussy’s full of his cum,” you say with defiance and wait for his reaction.

Frankie’s softly growls and his hand on your thigh contracts into a fist.

“Shhh, big boy,” you purr, bringing your fingers to your pussy. You gather some of Joel’s seed, leaking from your hole, and spread the creamy juices over your hardened clit. You rub yourself a few times and when a soft moan escapes your lips, Frankie echoes you.

“Feels so good,” you admit and begin pleasuring yourself in front of your ex.

“Jesus— fuck,” Frankie mumbles. His eyes are obsidian, forehead glistening with sweat with a few wet curls stuck to it. With his gaze tormented and pained, he reaches down to his belt.

“What are you doing, baby?” you ask, pausing your ministrations.

Frankie freezes and replies, stumbling over his words,

“I need — need to take my dick out. It hurts.”

“Ok, Frankie.” He hastily unzips his jeans when you add, “But don’t touch it.”

Frankie groans but then sighs with relief when he pulls the waistband of his boxers down, tucks it under his balls and his cock springs free. It hits his shirt and leaves a dark wet spot.

His member is throbbing, the dark pink tip, glossy and fat, is oozing his clear need for you and you lick your lips, enticing the man even more.

Frankie follows your orders and lets his cock bob and drip pre-fuck juice all over his balls and jeans while you moan again, tracing your sopping hole.

Your ex rubs his cheek, focused on the place he desperately wants to claim with his tongue and cock and croaks after wetting his plush lips,

“Let me kiss her, mi amor.”

Bingo.

That’s what you wanted as soon as you saw him at the bar today. If you cared to admit maybe you already dreamed about it when you noticed him stalking you last week. But what’s a prize without a game? Now it feels extra special.

With a little smile, you throw off your shoe and plant your bare foot on the seat, opening your thighs wider for him.

“You gonna taste another man’s cum on my pussy? just to kiss her?”

Frankie’s eyes snap up to yours and you see his defeat, his despair, his love in their depths.

He nods silently.

“Aww, you’re so sweet,” you coo. “Ok, baby, go ahead.”

With a grunt Frankie bends down, slowly adjusting his position between your legs so it’s comfortable for you, and when his soft warm lips kiss your cold cunt, you flutter your eyes shut with a pleased mewl.

Frankie’s always been the best at pussy eating. Joel often goes down on you but it’s different. He demands your ecstasy, claims your pussy with his mouth, makes you scream when his rough tongue impatiently rubs at your clit. His movements say ‘Give me’ while he’s eating you out.

But Frankie. He’s whispering “Take it”. Take your time, take your bliss, take my lips and tongue and use them, let yourself drown in pleasure. He laps at you softly and languidly, licking your pussy like it’s the most delicate flower, the most delicious fruit.

You grab your phone out of your pocket and text Joel that you met a friend by accident and need to catch up.

Frankie doesn’t see any of it, he’s gone, fully concentrated on pleasuring your soft cunt. His hands are gently holding your thighs apart, his face buried in your pussy.

“How’s she?” you whisper, raking your fingers through his silky curls and tugging on them slightly to get his attention when he doesn’t respond right away.

“I taste him on you,” Frankie grumbles, parting from your sex, “‘m gonna get it off you.”

He returns to work, making out with your folds and sucking the other man’s cum off your clit and you already feel yourself close to unraveling.

“Yes, like that, baby. My pussy misses you.”

You feel Frankie smile against your cunt before he begins stroking your clit with his tongue again and again until you cry out his name into your hand, while your hole clamps around nothing, walls contract and release another portion of Joel’s thick load.

Trembling from the orgasm that’s rippling through your body, you watch Frankie lap at your entrance, drinking the runaway seed and your slick, prolonging your shattering climax with this depraved act.

He doesn’t stop kissing your pussy until you get overstimulated and try to close your legs.

“Did so good for me, Frankie,” you murmur through heavy breaths.

“Thank you, mi amor,” your ex gruffs, sitting up, his face blushed, the gaze hazy and drunk on you.

He’s shivering from the arousal, his engorged cock generously leaking precum, and you take mercy on the man.

You scoot closer to him, wrap your hand around his hot cock and start slowly pumping it. It’s soaked with his juices so your palm slides easily over his hard length but to make him absolutely wild you gather some slick off your cunt and rub the underside of his cock where his tip meets the shaft with your wet thumb.

Frankie moans like a needy slut and in a second the first rope of cum shoots out of his slit.

You hastily lower your head, take the head between your lips and start drinking his load as he’s feeding it to you, jerking and thrusting his hips up, while your hand is gliding over his shaft.

You swallow everything to the last drop and lick it all over, cleaning his cock and earning a jerk of overstimulation from your ex. Then you sit up, wiping your mouth curled into a satisfied smile.

“Fuck, princesa, I love you,” Frankie breathes out falling onto the backrest, his cock softening but still standing at attention. You smile at his confession and your hunger finally seems satisfied.

You begin fixing your clothes and he watches you for a few seconds before tucking his cock into his jeans and then shifting closer to you. He gets into your space and you feel his warm hand pressed to your lower back. His huge frame is looming over you and you look up into his chocolaty eyes. They seem sad again.

“I want you back, mi amor—I... I need you.”

You sigh deeply and shake your head, taking his big hand in yours.

“You know it’s over, Frankie. I’m sorry, but I’m with Joel now.”

“Why? Why can’t you be with me? Why is he better?” He asks, furrowing his brows and leaning even closer to you.

“Baby,” you whine, averting your gaze from his puppy eyes and tracing hearts on his hand. “We talked about it. He’s …he’s like whiskey, he’s rough and heady and… you’re like hot chocolate, Frankie. You’re sweet but you’re too saccharine for me.”

“I can get rough with you, princesa.”

You giggle and shake your head.

“It’s not who you are, baby. And it’s ok. Someone will love you for it one day.”

You hear him sniff before he yanks his hand away from yours.

You know you should leave, break it off once and for all but the sick, mean, greedy side of your soul wants to pull him back as soon as you have pushed him away.

“Frankie,” you purr and grab his arm as he’s about to get out of the car. A slight touch from you is all it takes to stop him and he turns to you, his eyes glossy, his expression defeated.

You get closer to him and take his face between your hands. To kiss him goodbye. To poison him more.

He falls into the kiss head first, embracing you tightly, pressing his torso to yours so close it’s difficult to breathe.

You both moan against each other’s lips and you pull on his hair with passion and possessiveness. His tongue is licking into your mouth and you’re tasting yourself, sensing a faint trace of Joel’s cum. It’s so sick and twisted that another surge of arousal burns your core.

You make out for some time until you part from his lips.

“I should go, Frankie,” you whisper, snaking out of his embrace.

Frankie’s arms fall and he nods, looking lost and inebriated. You use this moment to hastily get out of his car.

��Bye, baby,” you chirp, smiling at him, but before you close the door he wakes up from the trance and calls for you.

“I won’t stop, mi amor,” he admits with determination in his shaky voice. “I’m gonna keep coming. I need you.”

“I know,” you say with a fake sigh and close the door.

You’re walking to get Tom, feeling Frankie’s eyes on your back, and trying to calm down, you bite your lip, but the excitement overwhelms you and soon a triumphant smile spreads across your face.

Thank you for reading!💖

MASTERLIST || more Frankie- The Hoodie

tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk

Tagging lovelies who showed interest in my Wip post @sawymredfox @604to647 @thundermartini @bonezone44 @casa-boiardi

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kattyysims · 10 months ago

Text

Autumn Core Challenge | The Sims 4

don’t click me

With my favorite season being fall, I wanted to create a mini cozy challenge to do a let's play with! This "challenge" will take you through an autumn bucket list, and all the cozy aesthetics ~ meant to be played during the rainy fall season (at least where I'm from).

Required Packs: Seasons, Discover University, Spooky Stuff.

Extra Packs: Get to Work, Cats & Dogs, Paranormal Stuff, High School Years, Movie Hangout Stuff, Get Together.

~ Not a must have but required for some objectives.

Aspiration: Best Selling Author

Traits: Bookworm, Creative, and 1 free trait.

Sim Likes: Rain, baking, sweaters, candles, baths, movies, lofi, reading, cafes.

Skills: Baking, writing.

Season: Fall

~ Options Menu > Game Options > Environment > Seasons _ Seasons Length > 28 Days

Mods (Optional): Shorter University Degrees by The Peridot Project.

~ Not required but makes it easier ~ since the normal 12 credits takes up so much time.

Assets: Small cozy home, a cat, a small bakery.

Business: Bakery (Optional)

~ If you'd like an extra challenge, own a bakery on the side!

Education: Major - Communications or Language & Literature, Elective - Baking

Holiday: Spookyfest

~ (Open the seasons calendar, and create a holiday - add Spooky Spirit, Trick or Treat, and Wear Costumes.

Your sim LOVES to read, write, and bake, she also has a small furry companion. Growing up she always loved reading books which led her to majoring in language and literature, with dreams of one day being a best-selling author. She loves all things fall and cozy, and thrives during the season. But not without conditions, she must drink at least one cup of coffee a day and loves visiting new cafes.

Objectives:

Master the baking skill. (Get to Work)

Graduate with at least a 3.8 GPA. (Discover University)

Own a 4-star bakery. (Get to Work) (Optional)

Publish 3 successful books.

Finish reading 4 books.

Become companions with your cat. (Cats & Dogs)

Drink one cup of coffee a day.

Have a 3 sim friend group.

~~~

Go to a cafe at least once a week. (Get Together)

Host a Spooky Party and get gold reward. (Spooky Stuff)

Go to a pumpkin patch (you can download one from the gallery). (Spooky Stuff)

Carve pumpkins (pumpkin carving station). (Spooky Stuff)

Go to a haunted house. (Next to the ferris wheel in Copperdale ~ High School Years.)

Befriend a ghost.

Play in a pile of leaves. (Seasons)

Watch Sims of the Dead. (Movie Hangout Stuff)

Go to a movie theater.

Stay the night in a haunted house residential. (Paranormal Stuff)

Commune with the departed. (Séance Table) (Paranormal Stuff)

Have a picnic.

Find a partner to go skating with. (Seasons)

Harvest an apple tree.

episode 1

#the sims 4 #ts4 #challenge #aesthetic #autumn #fall #let's play #cozy

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saiyanprincessswanie · 8 months ago

Text

Love Of My Life

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: 1675

Summary: When Bucky walks out of your life unexpectedly without a word from him you're left with a broken heart. Three months later he returns, do you forgive him or let him go?

Warnings: angst, begging for forgiveness, happy ending.

Prompt: an old flame rekindled, Theme: Write about letting go, or not wanting to.

Inspired by Queen’s “Love of My Life” song

A/N: Thank you to my beta reader @lfnr-blog-blog-blog for reading this for me. All mistakes are my own. Thank you to @fictional-affairs for the lovely moodboard & @whimsicalrogers for my divider.

A/N 2: this was written for the Winds of Autumn Challenge @the-slumberparty

Reblogs & Comments are welcomed and encouraged. It lets me know you like my work. 😊💜

I do NOT consent to translating or reposting my work on any social media platform, app, or third-party site. If you see my work anywhere besides my personal Tumblr & AO3 accounts, it has been stolen. I will NEVER give written or verbal permission to repost or translate any of my fanfics as they’re MY intellectual property. 🚫🚫

It’s been three months since Bucky walked out of your life. One day you were a happy, loving couple and the next day Bucky came home from a mission as a changed man. He was anxious, short-tempered, and kept his feelings to himself. He wasn’t the man you fell for all those years ago. When you tried to get him to talk to you he would tell you to “leave it alone.” Then when you didn’t he would storm out the door and not return until you were already in bed. One day he stormed out the door after a fight and he never returned. The love of your life had just hurt you. He swore he would never break your heart yet you stood in your house alone.

It took weeks to figure out what you did wrong. Did you say something wrong or push him too much? But after time went by you figured out it must be him and not you. Something must have spooked him on the mission that rattled him to his core. Whatever it was it must have been something big as nothing seemed to scare Bucky, except his past with Hydra.

Now here you were all alone and trying to pick up the pieces. Since Bucky left abruptly all his things were still scattered across the house and in closets. Maybe one day he would come back, you told yourself. You tried to convince yourself. But for now, you need to try and heal.

So now, three months after he left you to pick up the pieces you got a knock on your front door from an unexpected visitor. You open the door and find Bucky standing at your front door. You were shocked to see him standing there in his jeans, henley, leather jacket, and biker boots. He smirked when he saw you wearing one of his henley shirts and leggings. You didn’t know what to say to him as he looked you over.

“Sweetheart, I know this is a shock but I was wondering if I could come in and talk with you.”

Tears started to gather in your eyes at his words. You turned around leaving the door open for him and headed to the living room. You heard the door close and then his footsteps heading toward you. What did he have to say after three months of being a part? You had to admit you were curious. But the other part of you was angry with him. How dare he show up asking to talk with you when he couldn’t give you the time of day when he left.

You sat on the couch and Bucky joined you on the other side. He watched as you refused to look him in the eye. He couldn’t blame you for not wanting to and watched as you wiped the tears from your eyes.

“So, what brings you back after all this time?” You asked.

“I’ve missed you for one thing.” He states as you roll your eyes at him.

“Seriously I have.” He continues. “I knew the day I left was the biggest mistake of my life but I needed help. That mission shook me to my core and I wasn’t the same person when I returned. I was afraid that if I didn’t do something, we would never be together again.”

“You knew it was a mistake to leave and yet you still left. What the hell Bucky I could have helped you if you would’ve just asked me. That’s what a relationship is all about. When one of us is down or struggling the other picks us up. But instead of doing that, you left for three months!”

Your anger was starting to show its ugly face as you couldn’t understand why he thought leaving was a good thing. None of this made sense to you.

“Doll, let me start from the beginning so you might understand. Okay?” He looked at you with pleading eyes as if begging for a chance to be heard.

“That’s fine Bucky.” You softly answer, your hands fidgeting in your lap afraid of what he might say.

“The mission was supposed to be simple. Get in, get the information we need, and wipe the server. Things seemed to be going to plan until over the speaker system I heard the winter soldier trigger words. At first, they didn’t bother me but as they continued I started getting a headache and flashbacks. The words were spoken over and over again until I was finally able to escape. When I got back for debriefing I was still feeling off like something was trying to escape my mind. Then when we went over all the information I had downloaded it had a file called ‘The Winter Soldier reprogramming’ on it. The file showed different strategies on how to bring me back under control by Hydra. It scared me as I’m so afraid to go back under. When I came home I was on edge dreading any minute I could turn on you. So I decided it was best for me to go back to Wakanda to run tests to make sure I never become the soldat again. I left this all in the letter I left you.”

You could understand to an extent why he did what he did but your frustration got the best of you and what did he mean ‘a letter’?

“But why not tell me this in person instead of running away? You should have been honest with me. Instead, you left me brokenhearted and trying to pick up the broken pieces after you left. What letter are you even talking about? I got no letter from you.”

Bucky moves a little closer to you and looks into your eyes. “You’re right, I should have been honest with you in person. But doll, I left you a letter on your nightside table explaining everything. I’m sorry I broke your heart for leaving the way I did. I will do anything and everything to win your trust back. I promise I’m never leaving you like that again. What can I do to prove to you that I’m sorry?”

“I don’t know Bucky…” Your eyes cast downward as you try to figure out what you want to do.

“Doll, please. I’m begging for your forgiveness and a way back to your heart.” Bucky drops to his knees in front of you, grasping your hands like they are a lifeline. He could see you were still hurt and contemplating his words.

You needed to find that letter to see if he was lying to you. Even though your heart was telling you he was being truthful, your mind was spinning a web of deception.

“Bucky, I need a minute to myself.” You stood from the couch looking down at Bucky and offered a small smile. “I’ll be right back.”

You left Bucky in the living room and headed to your shared bedroom. Inside the room you walked to your side of the bed where a table sat. Bending down you looked under the bed and under the table. There was no letter. Pulling the table away from the wall you looked down and there was an envelope. Turning it over in your hands you saw his hand writing with your name on the envelope. Opening the envelope you pull out a letter and your heart sinks.

To my sweetheart,

I’m sorry that I’ve been hard to be around lately. I know my mood has been up and down since I came home from my last mission. The problem is during the mission Hydra tried to use the trigger words on me. It’s causing my mind to question whether or not they worked as my PTSD has been kicking up again and I can’t get this headache to go away. With that said, I'm heading to Wakanda to see if Shuri and Ayo can help me again. The last thing I want to do is hurt you so I must take some time away from you. I promise that I will come back to you. Wait for me.

Forever Yours,

J.B.B.

You sit on the bed and start to cry. He was right, it was all in the letter. How could you be so stupid thinking that he would just leave you without a word. You should have known better. Bucky was your everything.

You hear Bucky walk into the room and feel the bed dip as he sits next to you. Turning into his chest you cried. Bucky wrapped his arms around you and held you tight.

“It’s okay, doll. I gotcha. I promise it will be okay.”

“Bucky…I’m so sorry for thinking the worst of you. I should’ve known you wouldn’t have just left me. Please forgive me.”

Bucky pulls you gently away from him as he takes in your teary eyes and wobbly lip. His flesh hand slowly wipes the tears from your face and he gives a soft smile.

“If anyone should be sorry it’s me. I should have just told you my plan instead of writing it. I caused the pain you’ve been feeling for the last three months. I promise I will take every second of every day to make it up to you. Just give me the chance to do that, doll.”

“I will, Buck. We will work this out. I love you so much.” Your hand runs through his hair and Bucky briefly closes his eyes as he shivers from the feeling.

Opening his eyes again his shining blue eyes stare at you. “I love you too, doll.” Bucky pulls you in for a kiss and puts all his feelings behind it.

Looking back at it you’re happy you made it. You rekindled your feelings for one another and proved to the other that each was unwilling to let the other go anytime soon without a fight. Never did you go through something like this again as you always communicated openly.

Taglist

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#saiyanprincessswanie #missy writes #love of my life #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #navy and roo's sleepover

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annasiims · 9 months ago

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Meet Zara Davis, a fall enthusiast, coffee lover, and aspiring best-selling romance author. | WATCH EPISODE 1

"Autumn Core Challenge" by @kattyysims

mods & custom content mentioned/seen on my video :

simamazon unlimited books | scrub father sponge | cleaning bottle

cc:

kindle | vaccum cleaner robot | computer

Zara's OOTD :

skirt | top | hair | boots | tights

food mods :

avocado toast with salmon | stuffed peppers | coffee | drink

lots :

Zara's home | Coldbrew Cafe

#autumn core : zara*#the sims 4 #the sims community #sims 4 #ts4 simblr #annasiims #ts4 #simblr #ts4 gameplay #the sims 4 community #the sims 4 let’s play #the sims 4 cc #the sims 4 mods #sims 4 lets play #sims 4 community #maxis match #sims 4 maxis match #ts4 maxis match #sims 4 maxis cc

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almostwisegalaxy · 6 months ago

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The Intransigence of Silence

Actor x fem!reader

Reader has a bit of a shy character in this story

Music to listen to for the atmosphere: teacher's pet _Melanie Martinez

Part_1

Part_2. Part_3

Teacher's pet core ?...Ohhh yes ಡ⁠ ͜⁠ ⁠ʖ⁠ ⁠ಡ

..................................................................................

The autumn wind blew gently through the streets, and the subdued atmosphere of the theater conservatory brought an odd sense of calm to an otherwise noisy world. Y/N, a young actress, was one of the newest recruits at one of the country's most prestigious schools. Yet, in this environment where every move seemed scrutinized, every word weighed, she never truly felt at home. Shy and reserved, she struggled to carve out her place, to make herself visible among peers who were often louder, more confident.

The actor was an icon. His career was a jewel of both cinema and television. Behind his ever-brilliant smile and image of a charming prince lay a cold, unyielding man, whose passion for the craft was intertwined with a deep cynicism toward the industry. He had no patience for artists who sought to conform to superficial expectations. Teaching was a new challenge for him: to pass on what he had learned while keeping his distance, desiring only the raw essence of his students without truly letting them into his world.

The day he met Y/N, he had no intention of being impressed by her presence. She was there, among the other students, yet her energy seemed different. Timid, almost invisible. She didn’t have the audacity to stand out, and yet, he saw something in her—a potential she perhaps didn’t even know she had, or maybe one she was running from.

The first class was an ordeal. The actor made no concessions. His remarks were sharp, devoid of compassion. When Y/N stepped onto the stage for her first performance, his gaze bore into her.

— "You’re not here to look pretty. If you want to act, then act. Be present. Don’t aim for perfection; aim for truth."

She froze, unable to respond. She knew she hadn’t yet found her place, that she didn’t have that "something" he was looking for. But what escaped Y/N’s notice was the intensity of his gaze. He was testing her, provoking her—not to break her, but to draw something authentic out of her.

Days passed, and the actor watched Y/N with a frosty intensity. He gave her increasingly difficult tasks but never praised her. On the contrary, his remarks were cutting.

— "Still too timid. You don’t impress me," he would say, almost as if daring her. He pushed her further and further, forcing her to confront her own boundaries. But she couldn’t understand why he was so harsh. Why wouldn’t he just let her be?

One evening, after an especially long rehearsal, when everyone else had left, the actor found her alone in the empty theater. Y/N was still rehearsing, murmuring her lines as if the world around her didn’t exist. He paused at the entrance, silently observing her before finally approaching.

— "You have talent. That’s not the problem," he said at last, his voice cold but firm. "The problem is that you’re hiding that talent behind your fears."

He looked at her for a moment, as though waiting for a reaction, but she gave none.

— "If you want to be a real actress, you need to shed those chains—those little voices telling you you’re not good enough."

Her heart raced. His words hit harder than any critique. He spoke about her as if her doubts were plain to see, as if everyone knew, everyone could tell. But there was no comfort in his voice, only a stark observation, a demand.

She lowered her gaze, unsure of what to say. Yet, despite the harshness of his words, she felt both shattered and motivated. He wasn’t trying to crush her; he wanted her to wake up, to stop hiding. But he remained distant, offering no easy answers. This was a trial, not a helping hand.

In the weeks that followed, Y/N felt his gaze on her more intensely. He kept pushing her, challenging her at every turn. He observed her but never offered a word of comfort. Every comment, every look he gave her seemed to say she still wasn’t doing enough.

— "You need to stop trying to be liked," he told her one day. "That’s not what acting is. Acting is going beyond, into the invisible, into the uncomfortable."

She wrestled with her emotions. On one hand, she felt a certain gratitude toward him. He was right—she couldn’t keep hiding behind her timidity, her fear of falling short. But on the other hand, she found herself inexplicably drawn to him in a way she couldn’t explain. He watched her with an intensity she had never experienced before. But his attention was icy, distant, as if the goal was to push her to surpass herself, not to encourage her success.

One day, after a particularly difficult scene, Y/N broke down in tears. The actor, watching her with a cold expression, approached without a word. He made no attempt to console her.

— "Still too much doubt," he said simply. "Do you think crying makes you more human? It only makes you look weaker."

It wasn’t cruelty; it was raw truth. And it hurt.

But through the pain, something shifted within Y/N. She finally understood. He hadn’t abandoned her; he had forced her to rise. Every comment, every cutting observation, had been meant to push her to a place she never imagined she could reach. He wasn’t a gentle or kind mentor, but a relentless force driving her past her limits.

He never spoke of her progress or offered her compliments. But one evening, as they rehearsed alone in the empty theater, he turned to her, his dark eyes fixed on hers.

— "Do you want to know why I push you so hard?" he asked. "Because I see that you still don’t understand that art isn’t about comfort. It’s a battle."

And for the first time, Y/N felt truly seen, even without comforting words. She had become stronger, but she hadn’t changed who she was. The actor had broken her down to rebuild her, and in a strange way, that brought her closer to him, even if he remained a cold and enigmatic presence.

---

The days passed in a rhythm of endless rehearsals and the actor’s sharp remarks. With every session, Y/N felt more lost yet more determined. She wanted to earn his respect, but she no longer knew how. His critiques, though harsh, pushed her to go beyond her limits. Yet every word, every gesture seemed to push her further away from him, as if an invisible barrier stood between them.

Despite this, she knew that somewhere deep down, he believed in her. But he never let any warmth or support show. There was no comfort, no kind gestures or encouraging words—only expectations that grew heavier with each passing day. And yet, something about him drew her toward him. There was no flirtation, no obvious signs. But whenever they found themselves alone for rehearsals, a silent tension lingered between them—a kind of unspoken challenge, as though she was trying to understand him while he kept her at arm's length.

One day, after a long day of filming, as she was packing up her things in the dressing room, she saw the actor stop in the doorway, as if hesitating. He stepped inside without a word, his imposing figure framed by the shadows of the room.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice low but firm, as always. “I watched your scene again. It’s not enough. You let yourself go. This isn’t a role you play. It’s a life you live.”

She turned slowly, feeling her heart race. He was staring at her without blinking, as if waiting for a reaction. She still addressed him formally, and he seemed to appreciate that sense of distance, as if it shielded him from the emotions she never allowed herself to show.

“I... I understand, sir,” she replied timidly, though with a growing determination. “I’ll work harder.”

He didn’t reply immediately, and for a moment, he didn’t take his eyes off her. The air between them felt charged with a strange intensity. The actor, usually so in control of his emotions, had something undefined in his gaze—an internal conflict he refused to share. Finally, he nodded slowly, a gesture of acknowledgment but without comfort.

“You need to be more than this role,” he said almost in a whisper. “Be more than what you think you are.”

He turned to leave but paused just before stepping out the door. His eyes lingered on her for a moment, as if he’d caught a glimpse of vulnerability in her. But he didn’t dwell on it. “Tomorrow, rehearse thoroughly. I’ll be there to correct you,” he added without emotion.

Y/N watched him leave, her heart heavy. She didn’t know why his words affected her so deeply. Maybe it was because he spoke truths she didn’t want to hear but knew to be real. She wanted to be more than this role. She knew that deep down. But the task felt insurmountable.

The next day, during rehearsal, he was there as promised. The actor watched her enter the room with his piercing gaze. This time, however, there was no harsh speech, no immediate reproach—just a cold, analytical stare.

“Start,” he ordered in a clipped tone.

Y/N, her body tense, moved to the center of the room and began. This time, she gave her all, shedding her hesitations. She wasn’t thinking about him or his relentless critiques but about the scene, about the essence of the character. She wasn’t Y/N anymore—she was the actress, the soul of the role, losing herself in the performance. Yet even in her complete immersion, she couldn’t ignore his presence. He was there, motionless, watching her with an inscrutable expression.

When the scene ended, he didn’t speak for a moment, which made her nervous. Slowly, he walked toward her.

“Much better,” he said at last. But there was something in his tone—a subtle nuance she hadn’t heard before. A mix of satisfaction and restraint.

“But it’s not enough,” he added. “Do it again.”

This time, he didn’t move closer. He stayed at a distance, watching her from afar. A chill ran through her. Was that a veiled compliment? Or just another cold observation? She couldn’t tell.

The rehearsals continued, and a strange dynamic began to take shape between them. She realized that every time he was there, her focus sharpened. There was no room for hesitation, no space for fear. She was becoming the actress he demanded, but at what cost? Sometimes, the line between fear and respect blurred.

One day, while they were alone in the room after yet another grueling rehearsal, the actor suddenly turned to her. “You’re changing,” he said without preamble, as if it were obvious. “But don’t forget why you’re doing this. It’s not just to land a role. It’s for your own truth. Don’t lose yourself.”

Y/N, her breath shallow, lowered her eyes. His words resonated within her with an intensity she couldn’t quite grasp. The actor remained as distant as ever, but with every interaction, she felt there was something more beneath the surface. A kind of interest—not in her as a person, but in what she was becoming because of him. An interest that was unreadable, yet powerful enough to push her further, always further. But never past the silent boundary between mentor and protégé.

She straightened, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “I won’t disappoint you, sir.”

He held her gaze for a moment, his dark eyes gleaming with an emotion he never allowed to surface. Then, without another word, he turned and walked away as always, leaving behind a lingering warmth in the air—a mystery she might never unravel.

---

Weeks had passed, and with each rehearsal, the atmosphere between Y/N and the actor grew denser, almost tangible. Y/N strived to follow every directive with precision, taking note of his every word, but she never truly understood where it all was leading. The actor, for his part, continued to push her, never offering any sign of approval. He shaped her like a sculptor shapes a statue, but without the slightest hint of tenderness. There was something almost inhuman in the way he treated her: on one hand, he gave her relentless attention, but on the other, he kept her at a distance, as if she were merely a tool for achieving a greater purpose—a masterpiece to be perfected.

Y/N no longer knew where she stood. Every time he gave her a role, a scene to rehearse, she threw herself into it without restraint, as if she had something to prove. But deep down, she constantly wondered: why her? Why this relentless effort? At times, she felt closer to him than anyone else, and at others, he seemed like a distant figure—a demanding master she could never fully understand.

One evening, after an especially grueling day of rehearsals, she wandered the corridors of the conservatory, her thoughts in turmoil. She had never seen the actor so silent, so detached, and it troubled her more than she wanted to admit. It felt as if he was ready to abandon her, to let her drown in her own doubts.

As she walked through a dimly lit hallway, she saw him. He stood near the door of the theater room, arms crossed, as though he had been waiting for her. He still had that intense, cold gaze—a gaze with a depth that fascinated her despite herself.

“You’re not satisfied with your performance, are you?” he asked in a calm, almost icy tone.

Y/N stopped a few steps away from him. She lowered her eyes before responding, not wanting to appear more vulnerable than she already felt. “I... I’m not sure, sir. Maybe I’m still making mistakes.”

He nodded slowly. “Mistakes, yes. But necessary ones,” he added, his tone neutral. “You can’t move forward without making them. And you need to accept that.”

A shiver ran down her spine. Why was his tone becoming more distant? She felt as though he was simultaneously pushing her to excel and to lose herself. He scrutinized her as if he could see beyond her timid exterior, as if every move he made was designed to turn her into a stronger, more relentless actress.

“Why... why do you push me so hard?” she finally asked, breaking the silence between them. “Why won’t you just let me express myself?”

He stared at her for a long moment before answering, his gaze piercing like a beam of light cutting through the darkness of the room.

“Because you don’t know yet what you’re capable of,” he said in a low, almost inaudible voice. “Because you’re so desperate to be accepted that you hide behind roles, masks, rehearsed lines. But that’s not what I’m looking for. I’m looking for what makes you vibrate, what burns inside you—what you’re still refusing to show.”

Y/N felt trapped by his words. Each sentence was like a challenge she had to overcome, a mountain she had to climb without the luxury of making mistakes. He seemed to know her better than she knew herself, and that terrified her.

“I... I don’t know if I can do it,” she whispered, her voice breaking with uncertainty.

He didn’t respond immediately but looked at her with a calculating expression, as though waiting for her to find her own truth. After a heavy silence, he stepped slightly closer.

“You don’t need to know if you’ll succeed. That’s the beauty of art. There are no certainties. Only the constant pursuit. And the pain of never being satisfied with yourself,” he said with a cold, almost wise tone. “But trust me—if you stop clinging to what’s comfortable, you’ll eventually find the part of you you’ve always been hiding.”

She didn’t reply. She didn’t know what to say. His words echoed in her mind, both a challenge and an invitation. Why did she feel like he wasn’t just pushing her to become a better actress? There was something more.

“Go rehearse. I’ll be here tomorrow,” the actor said as he turned away, as if he’d just finished a casual conversation. But he didn’t look back. Y/N remained there, frozen, her heart pounding in her chest, as though the weight of his expectations bore down on her shoulders. It wasn’t encouragement, but it had a destabilizing effect on her. He was right. She hadn’t yet found what she was searching for.

The next morning, during rehearsals, she once again felt the invisible pressure emanating from him. With every movement, every line, the actor watched her without blinking. He was still as distant as ever, but every adjustment he made to her performance pushed her further out of her comfort zone. Every minute spent under his unyielding gaze made her stronger—but also more fragile.

After a particularly difficult scene, where Y/N, on the verge of a breakdown, nearly collapsed, the actor paused for a moment and gave her an intense look. She waited, almost silently, for his verdict.

“You did well,” he said, his cold tone contrasting with the effort she had just poured into the scene. But there were no congratulations. No smile. Just a matter-of-fact statement.

She lowered her eyes, barely taking the time to process his words. He still hadn’t told her what he truly thought of her, of her progress. Nothing more than endless challenges and constant expectations.

“I know you expect more from me,” she murmured, almost despairingly.

He looked at her, his eyes seeming to analyze every part of her being. He wasn’t the type to offer comforting words. Yet in the silence that followed, there was a shared truth: he offered no easiness, no emotional support, but he was shaping her. Slowly, she realized he wasn’t pushing her just for the art—but for what she was becoming, for the strength she could build through every trial.

She had no choice but to keep going, to accept his cold and uncompromising methods. This was his truth, and Y/N was ready to search for it—even if she didn’t yet understand everything he expected of her.

---

Y/N was at her limit. Every day spent under the actor’s relentless guidance had pushed her further, eroding every shred of confidence she had in herself. His critiques, though measured, left no room for error. He showed no leniency, no satisfaction—always ready to take her to the edge of the precipice.

She might have been able to endure this pressure if she still believed in something. But she no longer believed in anything—not her talent, not her choices, not even him. And the rumors didn’t help. The whispers, the lingering glances as she passed through the studio, the half-muttered comments: "She’s special to him," "He favors her for some other reason." Y/N heard them, even if no one dared say them to her face.

One evening, alone in her cramped apartment, she broke. Everything seemed to collapse around her. The thought of quitting suddenly seemed appealing. More than that: a release.

The next day, Y/N arrived at the studio, her thoughts heavy but her decision burning in her mind. This would be her last day. She couldn’t take it anymore. During rehearsal, her movements were mechanical, her lines devoid of life. Her gaze remained lowered, as if she wanted to disappear.

The actor, who observed every detail, abruptly stopped the scene.

“Stop,” he said coldly. “Y/N.”

She lifted her head, but her face was closed off, her eyes dull.

“You can continue without me,” she said suddenly. Her voice trembled slightly, but she remained firm. “I’m leaving this project.”

The room collectively held its breath. No one dared intervene. The actor, meanwhile, stared at Y/N, a flash of disbelief crossing his face. But it was his icy tone that sent a chill through the room.

“You think you can just walk away? After everything you’ve invested here?”

Y/N felt a surge of anger. She replied, her voice cracking with emotion:

“Everything I’ve invested? You mean everything you’ve taken from me. You’ve used me, pushed me to my limits, and for what? To satisfy your need for perfection? I’m not your toy, sir!”

The silence that followed was heavy. The other actors exchanged nervous glances. The actor, motionless, seemed to weigh his words. Then, he abruptly turned to the others.

“Leave.”

Once they were alone, the actor slowly approached Y/N. He was calm, but his gaze burned with intensity.

“You think I’m using you?” he said, his voice sharp. “You think everything I do, everything I say, is for my own pleasure?”

Y/N stared at him, silent tears streaming down her cheeks. “Yes,” she whispered. “That’s how it feels. You push me, but you don’t see me. Not really.”

Those words seemed to strike him. He stopped, his shoulders lowering slightly as if an invisible weight had settled on him.

“And you, Y/N,” he finally said, “do you see yourself?”

She remained silent, caught off guard. He continued, his tone softer but still charged with intensity:

“Do you think I’m harsh because I enjoy it? I’m harsh because you have something I can’t ignore. Something you refuse to see. If I push you, it’s because I want you to find it. Not for me. For you.”

His words hurt because, deep down, she knew he was right. But it didn’t erase the pain she felt, the loneliness he had allowed to grow inside her.

“And at what cost?” she asked, her voice breaking. “If I have to lose everything to reach what you see, is it worth it?”

He was silent for a moment, his gaze locked on hers. Then, in a quieter, almost vulnerable voice, he replied:

“I won’t let you lose everything. But if you stop now, you’ll never know what you’re capable of. And that, Y/N, is a loss I can’t accept.”

Y/N spent that night thinking. The actor hadn’t tried to hold her back with promises or apologies. He had left the choice to her. And that choice weighed heavily on her.

When she returned to the studio the next day, he was there, as if he knew she would come back. He didn’t say a word to her, but his gaze was different: less harsh, less impenetrable.

Rehearsal resumed, and he pushed her again, but there was a new subtlety in his methods. When she succeeded in a particularly challenging scene, he gave a barely perceptible nod. That simple gesture was worth more than any speech.

Y/N didn’t know if she could continue indefinitely. But for now, she had chosen to stay. Because despite everything, deep down, she wanted to prove to the actor—and to herself—that he was right.

---

Y/N had made a decision in the quiet of her own mind. After weeks under the relentless guidance of the actor, she needed to prove—not to him, but to herself—that she could stand on her own. It was an almost desperate impulse, a vital need to reclaim her identity.

Without telling anyone, she auditioned for a minor role in a low-budget historical drama. It wasn’t much—just a few lines in three scenes. But that role meant so much more to Y/N. It was proof that she could find her place, that she could be seen for her talent and not because she was the favored student of a renowned actor.

When she got the call confirming she had landed the role, a rare feeling of triumph washed over her. For the first time in a long while, she felt free.

The news eventually reached the actor. He heard it from a colleague, a director he frequently collaborated with.

"Your student, Y/N, got a role in The Weight of the Crown. You should be proud of her," the director said casually.

The actor froze. The information hit him like a blow. She hadn’t said anything. She had acted behind his back. His jaw clenched, and a quiet anger rose within him. It wasn’t betrayal—he knew that—but it sparked a frustration he couldn’t name.

When he saw her arrive at the studio that day, he didn’t wait. He approached her quickly, his expression dark.

"You auditioned for a drama," he said without preamble, his tone sharper than he intended.

Y/N looked up, surprised, but she remained calm. "Yes, sir," she said softly. "I wanted to try something on my own."

"On your own?" he repeated, almost mocking. "Do you think you’re ready for that? Do you think appearing in a drama without being fully prepared will help you?" He paused, his voice dropping but growing harsher. "You didn’t even tell me."

"Because I knew you’d react like this," Y/N replied, her voice trembling slightly. "I knew you’d tell me I’m not ready. But it’s not your decision, sir. It’s mine."

This unexpected boldness caught him off guard. But instead of responding, he took a slow breath, trying to regain control of his emotions.

"Cancel the role," he said finally, every word heavy.

Y/N stared at him, incredulous. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," he replied, his eyes fixed on hers. "You’re not ready. That role could destroy you more than it helps you. You need to withdraw."

Y/N said nothing. She lowered her eyes, holding back her emotions. But deep down, a quiet anger was rising. She was tired of being treated like a child incapable of making her own decisions. Yet, she obeyed.

A few days later, she informed the director that she was withdrawing from the project. Her voice trembled, but she didn’t want to explain her reasons. She hung up, her heart heavy, and felt empty.

That evening, as the studio emptied, Y/N stayed behind to rehearse alone. She needed to keep her mind occupied. As she recited her lines, her voice rose in the silence, rough with emotion. She collapsed onto the stage, unable to continue.

When the actor entered the room, she didn’t notice him at first. He lingered in the shadows for a moment, watching her. Guilt gnawed at him, but he didn’t know how to express it.

"Why are you still here?" he asked abruptly, breaking the silence.

Y/N jumped, looking up. "I... I wanted to practice."

He approached, his steps measured, and sat on the edge of the stage, his gaze fixed on her. "I asked you to withdraw from that project to protect you," he said softly, his voice losing its edge. "Not to break you."

"Then why do I feel like that’s exactly what you’ve done?" Y/N murmured, her eyes glistening with tears. "I just wanted... to try. Even if I failed."

The actor looked at her, and for a moment, he seemed to hesitate. Then, without thinking, he reached out and gently touched her wrist—a rare gesture of tenderness from him.

"Y/N," he murmured, his voice almost hoarse, "I don’t want you to fail. Not because you’re not ready, but because I... I don’t want to see you get lost in this harsh world before you’re strong enough."

That unexpected touch broke something inside her. Y/N gently pulled her hand away, but the weight of his words hung between them.

"And what if I don’t want your protection anymore?" she murmured. "What if I just want... to be seen for who I am?"

He remained silent, unable to respond. The tension between them, usually cold and disciplined, had shifted. It had become palpable, almost suffocating. And this time, it was Y/N who let the boundaries blur.

She straightened, slowly moving closer to him. Her gaze, hesitant but determined, met his. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Then, in a moment she didn’t fully understand herself, she placed a light hand on his arm.

"Thank you," she finally murmured, before leaving the room, leaving him alone with his own inner turmoil.

The days that followed were marked by a silent tension. The actor was more distant than ever, avoiding any prolonged contact with Y/N. But every interaction, no matter how brief, carried an emotional weight they couldn’t ignore.

For her part, Y/N felt increasingly lost. She continued to work hard, but her mind was haunted by the confrontation, by the moment she had crossed a line she had sworn never to cross.

And the actor… He was conflicted. He knew he had to maintain the distance. But every time he met her gaze, he wondered how much longer he could ignore what he truly felt.

..................................................................................

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