#I love love the image of them frozen I their seat not knowing what to do

[omo-my-gosh]

someone holding it on a bus or train, telling themselves over and over if they can just make it to the station they can use the public toilets.... but then when the bus/train does pull in to the station, they realize that if there's no way they can stand up and walk to the bathroom without wetting

[alisonsfics]

old college flame

pairing: tony dinozzo x ex-girlfriend!reader

summary: you and tony had dated in college. you were the only serious girlfriend he ever had. after going your separate ways, you got a job working at the FBI, which means you hadn’t seen tony since. until NCIS and the FBI have to collaborate on a case.

word count: 2.3k

“Agent Fornell, is NCIS aware that we are assisting them on this case? You’ve told me how Agent Gibbs doesn’t like other agencies to step on his toes.” You asked your boss.

You both were currently in the elevator, riding up to the NCIS squad room. You had never worked with NCIS in all your years at the agency, and you wanted to know what to expect.

“Yes, Agent Gibbs invited us on to this case.” He informed you.

The elevator doors dinged, and you both stepped out. You followed after Fornell, since he knew his way around NCIS headquarters. “Agent Gibbs, pleasure to work with you again.” Your boss said, walking into a room with four desks.

Gibbs stood up and shook Fornell’s hand. “You must be Agent L/N. Tobias told be about you. You’ve been at the FBI for six years now?” He asked. You nodded, politely, and shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, sir.” You said, simply.

Gibbs gestured behind you. “That’s Special Agent McGee, and this is Ziva David.” He explained. They both came over and shook your hand.

“I read your paper about using satellite images during investigations. I thought it was really interesting.” You told McGee. He was flattered. “I’m actually working on that now trying to analyze images around our crime scene. I can show you, if you like. I could use a second opinion.” He offered.

You quickly nodded and agreed. “Here, let me borrow my colleague’s chair. He won’t mind, he has a thing for beautiful women.” McGee said, wheeling the chair from the empty desk over to his own desk.

You took a seat, and he showed you the screen. “I’ve been looking at this radius between the two crimes because we think the suspect lives in the area.” He explained, pointing at the circles on the map.

“We have an unsolved case from a few years ago that I think might be related.” You said, pulling the file out of your bag and showing it to him.

“It matches the other two crimes, and it took place right around here.” You said, gesturing towards the map.

McGee glanced over the file before typing in the third location. “That narrows our search area down by a lot.” He said, glancing over at Gibbs.

“Up on the screen, McGee,” Gibbs said, gesturing at the tv. From behind you, you heard the elevator doors ding.

“Probie, where’s my chair?” You heard a loud voice ask. The voice sounded familiar to you, but you weren’t sure why.

You turned around to see who was talking. “It’s being borrowed by Agent—” McGee started to say, as you turned around and made eye contact with Tony.

“Y/N,” Tony said, almost at a whisper. He was standing completely still, just staring. You were also frozen in your seat.

“You two know each other?” Gibbs asked, curious as to why you both were just staring at each other.

“College,” you both said at the same time.

You and Tony had dated for two years in college. He was your first real love, and you were his. You broke up because you were moving to different cities. You both preferred having a mutual breakup instead of your relationship deteriorating from doing long distance and ending with a messy breakup.

Gibbs and Fornell both snapped to get you both out of your trances.

“McGee, you and Agent L/N go work with Abby on this map. Tony and Ziva start looking into the cold case.” Gibbs delegated.

You stood up from your seat and walked over to Tony. “Hi,” you said, giving him a soft smile. You handed him the file, and he returned the smile. “It’s nice to see you,” he responded, left just as speechless as you were.

“Right this way,” McGee said, showing you to the elevator. You followed after him, looking back over your shoulder and making eye contact with Tony.

You and McGee stepped into the elevator. “So, you know Tony?” McGee asked you. You nodded your head. “Yeah, you could say that. Or at least I used to,” you told him.

“You two haven’t seen each other since college?” McGee asked, curiously. He had never seen Tony as shaken up as he was when he saw you.

“Yeah, I think so,” you said, as though you didn’t specifically remember the last time you saw Tony.

It was when you brought Tony to the airport. He was leaving for DC. You both knew it’d be the last time you saw each other. It was the only time you’d seen Tony cry. You had a Hallmark-movie emotional kiss.

And you hadn’t seen him since.

You and McGee stepped out of the elevator and walked down a hallway. You both walked into Abby’s lab. Then, you noticed Abby.

She was typing on her computer, facing away from you both. “Hi, Abby.” McGee said as you both entered the room.

“McGee, did you hear? Ziva called me. Something about Tony acting weird around some girl. I was thinking secret ex-girlfriend, but that doesn’t really feel like Tony—” Abby started rambling, before McGee interrupted.

“Abby,” McGee said, loudly. He gave you a look of sympathy. Abby turned around, and her eyes went wide.

“Abby, meet Agent L/N from the FBI,” McGee introduced you.

Abby had a terrified look in her eyes. “See, you might think I was talking about you, but I was actually talking about someone else.” She lied, trying to smooth things over.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I get it,” you assured her. She looked relieved. The three of you discussed the map for a few minutes, and then McGee got a phone call.

“Boss wants me upstairs,” He said, leaving the lab.

“Hey, I’m sorry about earlier.” Abby apologized again. You gave her a polite smile. “You really don’t have to worry about it. Also, I thought you’d want to know that you were right.” You told her.

Her eyebrows furrowed, and you could tell from her expression that she was confused. “Wait, about what?” She asked you.

“Tony,” you said, simply.

She still looked confused for another minute, and then her eyes lit up. “You’re Tony’s ex-girlfriend? You two actually dated?” Abby asked, excitedly.

You could tell how shocked she was. She ran and grabbed two chairs for you both to sit on. You took a seat, giggling at her excitement.

“So, Tony actually had a girlfriend? Like a serious girlfriend?” She asked you. You nodded your head. “Two years serious,” you replied.

Abby was shocked. She’d never heard Tony talk about a girlfriend. There wasn’t even many girls that he took on second dates. He didn’t even try to seriously date anyone after you.

What you both had was special. Tony knew he’d never be able to replicate that, so he didn’t see a point in trying. That is what led to the long string of one night stands.

Abby’s expression shifted when she saw your disappointment. She was excited to learn Tony had a girlfriend, but reminiscing about your relationship just gave you regrets.

“When you said having a secret ex-girlfriend didn’t sound like Tony, what did you mean?” You asked Abby, curiously. She didn’t know what to say.

“Obviously, I didn’t know Tony in college, but now, I’ve haven’t seen him date anyone serious. It’s a lot of first dates that don’t go anywhere. What you both had must have been really special.” She said, giving you a soft smile.

You sighed, thinking back to your relationship. It was special. You both had the perfect fit, until you didn’t.

“I should probably get back upstairs. I wouldn’t say Fornell is the most patient boss.” You said, standing up from your seat. Abby giggled to herself. “Sounds like Gibbs,” she joked.

“What sounds like Gibbs?” You heard Gibbs as he walked into the room.

“I’m gonna head back upstairs.” You said, quickly walking out of the room. You waited for the elevator. When it dinged, you went to step inside.

You bumped straight into Tony, who was trying to get out of the elevator. You both froze. “Hi, again,” you said, softly.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, scooting to the side to let you get in the elevator.

“I was just getting out.” He said, stepping into the hallway. You watched him as the doors started to close, when he quickly hopped inside the elevator.

He quickly flipped the off switch, turning the lights darker and bringing the elevator to a halt.

“Sorry, I just really needed to talk to you.” He said, turning to face you. You smiled at him, knowing exactly how he felt.

“So you’re working with the FBI now?” He asked, not knowing how to start this conversation. You nodded, giving him an awkward smile.

“Have you, y’know, been doing good?” You asked. Even after all these years, you still cared about him. “Yeah, I’m doing better. What about you? You ever get married?” He asked, remembering how you had talked about your perfect wedding.

You let out half of a laugh. “Nope, not married. Not even close,” you said, honestly. He nodded along, and you knew he felt the same way.

“Trouble finding the right guy?” He asked. He knew he sounded jealous, but you were his first love.

“Nope, I had the right guy. Just the wrong time,” you said, taking a step closer to him. He looked down at the floor. “I’m sorry if I ever hurt you. We tried to stop things from ending messily, but I don’t think it mattered. Having to say goodbye to the person you love the most is always messy.” He said, slowly grabbing one of your hands.

He was nervous, waiting for your permission. You gave him a smile and interlaced your fingers with his.

“You never did anything wrong, Tony. You were perfect. I know we both have regrets about everything, at least I do.” You told him, honestly.

He could hear your hurt in your voice. He wished there was a way to go back and undo all the pain you both had been through.

“Trust me, you are not the only one with regrets. I am always wondering what would have happened if I fought harder for us. Maybe we would have survived long distance, or maybe I should’ve just taken the jump and moved to be with you.” He rambled.

He had never told anyone any of this. He felt so relieved to get it off his chest. “I guess we’ll never know.” You said. You were realizing for the first time that you both were living in the same city now.

Tony went to say something, but stopped himself. “Actually, nevermind. That’s stupid,” he said, dropping your hand and backing up from you. He leaned against the elevator railing, worrying he’d just messed everything up.

He went to flip the on switch, but you grabbed his hand, stopping him. “It’s not stupid. What were you going to say?” You asked him.

He took a deep breath, knowing he could blow everything up with what he was about to say.

“I was just going to say that I never stopped loving you.” He confessed, looking into your eyes with a look that made you melt.

You cupped his face and kissed him. He quickly wrapped his arms around your waist, kissing you back. He spun you around, so your back was pressed up against the wall.

Your hands found their way back into his hair, like they had so many times before. It all still felt natural. He pulled you closer to him. He had missed you for years, and now he felt like he couldn’t breath without you.

He ran his tongue along your bottom lip, causing you to smirk. “God, I have missed you so much,” Tony whispered, pulling out of the kiss.

“Are we giving us a second chance?” You asked him. A giant smile spread on his face. “I have dreamed about having a second chance with you for years.” He said, giving you a quick peck on the cheek.

Suddenly, Tony’s phone started ringing.

“Yeah, Abby, what’s up?” He asked. You heard Abby cheering loudly on the other side. Tony flinched, pulling the phone away from his ear.

“You got the girl back! You both are so cute together.” You heard her say, causing Tony’s cheeks to turn pink.

“Wait a minute. Abby are you spying through the security camera?” He asked, turning to face the camera. You heard the phone beep as she hung up.

You giggled to yourself. “Sounds like Abby is a fan.” You joked. He nodded, knowing what you said was an understatement. “She didn’t know it was you but she always knew I was hung up on someone.” He said, pulling you into a hug.

“We should probably get back before Gibbs and Fornell get suspicious.” You mumbled, into his shirt. You both pulled out of the hug, and he flipped the on switch.

You walked back into the squad room. You both were anticipating that Abby would have told the rest of the team already, but no one seemed to react.

“Boss is on his way up, he wants to talk theories.” McGee informed you both. You both nodded.

Tony grabbed your hand, which caught McGee and Ziva’s attention. They gave each other a quick look from across the room. They were both wondering what was happening.

Tony pulled his chair out for you, letting you sit down. Then, he leaned against the side of his desk.

“So?” McGee asked, looking at Tony.

Tony chuckled at his colleagues’ intrigue and curiosity.

“You may be seeing much more of Agent L/N” Tony said, causing both McGee and Ziva to smile. “We’re happy for you both,” Ziva said, smiling.

McGee walked over to you. “You’ll be needing this. I’m going to need to hear all about how Tony was in college.” McGee said, handing you his card with his phone number.

“We should all get drinks tonight. I’m sure you have lots of stories about Tony.” Ziva suggested. Tony knew he was going to be in for a long night.

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[where-does-the-heart-lie]

GOD chapter 59 was SO GOOD n i have a lot to say so sending an ask instead of leaving it on the post.

i /love/ when you make things hyper detailed, because your shading techniques are so much fun to sit n stare at and soak in for a while. that being said, the coloring of the wine spilling is what does it for me this time. it still would have been really cool in bw, but not as cool as seeing all the shades of red over the dark blue bg. you did the glass really well too!! I don't think there's a noticeable difference between the wine color inside and outside the glass which is fine bc it's clear, so it RLY makes me appreciate the lighting you have around the glass rim to show the edge in contrast. that tiny little detail makes the image for me. stellar work. i love it

also i do wanna throw in appreciation for the handwritten serif. super well done at first glance it did look like you'd jus typed it out. idk what texture you have on the brush you use for words but it's rly nice to look at up close.

i think the color kinda tipped me off but i waffled bc i couldn't remember if either of his parents spoke in serif font and was a bit daunted to dig thru 50+ chapters to confirm who it was if it didn't turn out to be them. i'm glad i looked at your tags tho haha saved me the trouble. what a way to end the act too!! i read this one on my phone and was scrolling thru the images at full size and after four or so i kept expecting it to cut off. it was a very pleasant surprise to have it keep going, worth the wait to have a longer chapter :)

maybe it jus wasn't meant to be a la sabo getting the letter from sally. it might have to be stelly after all tho there are things that come before then. what a bad time to have one or both of his parents speak to him for the first time that night. oof can't wait for the next act lets goooo

Oh wowww what a beautifully long review!

Thanks so much im glad you like how it turned out, i’m really happy with it, too! Ive never drawn fluids like this before, but i really needed this page to have that extra kick because it was such a short one.

Because i couldnt figure out how to make this moment look slow mo with multiple different panels on one page, I really wanted to make a piece that is like,, frozen in time instead.

A page like this, you can keep on it as long as you’d like. You can make it as slow mo as you want it to be.

The serif lettering is that of outlook’s!

I dont know if you can see the difference between this and my usual handwriting, but it’s supposed to look taller. Higher up. Neater. Cleaner. (Still my handwriting though so like so actually neat or clean, but you know like,,, in comparison to the norm.)

His dad only talks in one scene, and his mother has never said anything yet, so i dont blame you if you couldnt find it. In my. Large repertoire of chapters ive accumulated.

I definitely felt the same about the pages when drawing them. But probably the opposite feeling lol. Mine was more like “ugh i forgot theres so many. How many more of these do I have to get through??? How did i do this the first act ending with 11 pages???”

Im so glad you guys are on the edge of your seats with the letter :)

Thanks for the ask!

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

Alright I’m back for one more…

May I suggest 11 and 38 with our hubband Mayday?

@coffeeandbatboys I hope you like this one too, love.

Love oo.

Warmth

Warnings: Freezing, falling into a pond, nearly freezing to death, near death, fluff, kissing, comfort, cold, I think that's it. Let me know if I miss anything.

Main Master List   |  Star Wars Fic Roulette

The snow wasn’t letting up, each step you took only got heavier. You were cold, your body frozen from falling through the ice, who could’ve known there was a pond under all the snow. Thankfully, it wasn’t deep enough to prevent you from getting out, but you did lose your rations. Your hands felt as though they were going to fall off, you kept them hidden under your armpits, hoping they’d warm up a little, but it seemed to only make your armpits cold. 

It was just another ten kilometres, you already walked an hour in this weather, soaking wet. At least, when you fell in, you had practically finished your patrol. 

And as much as you didn’t mind Barton IV, at this current point in time, you wanted to be warm in your quarters, with Mayday’s arms around you. Holding you close, as he whispered sweet promises in your ear. 

Keeping those thoughts going in your mind, was the drive you needed to keep going. 

It was almost two hours later, when you saw the outline of the base. You let out a sigh of relief, as your steps faltered on the hard concrete surface. You kept moving, but now your feet somehow felt even heavier. 

There was a blurry image of someone running towards you, someone shouted your name, it sounded so close and so far, you couldn’t even move anymore. Your knees crumpled under you as you fell to the ground. 

Mayday rushed over to you, as soon as he saw you trudging towards the entrance he took off on a full run to get to you. Before you even hit the ground he wrapped his arms around your back and knees carrying you in his arms inside. He took you to the medics as soon as he could. 

He sat beside your bed, his knee bouncing as he held your hand, pressing it to his lips, hoping the warmth from his breath would provide you comfort. 

Your eyes slowly opened, you turned your head to look at the person holding your hand, smiling as you saw Mayday sitting beside you. 

“Hey…” you whispered softly, unable to talk louder.

His eyes flung open to look at you, he let out a choked sigh, without a thought, he shifted from his seat, sitting beside you on the bed looking into your eyes. “Oh thank the force!” He pressed his forehead against yours, “Maker! Cyare, you had me worried.”

“I’m sorry…”

“It’s okay. What happened?”

“I was running away from some raiders, and … the ice broke. I fell into a pond…”

“You ran? Did you think they were gonna kill you?”

“Thought had crossed my mind” you offer a small smile, although your eyes were barely staying open.

“I want you to know something, cyare, the only one who gets to kill you is me. Trust me, when I say I will make good on promise if you don’t comm when you’re in trouble.”

“I tried, but the cold killed it.”

“Doesn’t matter. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir.” You chuckled, as you slowly opened your eyes and looked into his eyes, smiling. “You know I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“I know. And that’s the only reason, I’m not yelling at you, or saying ‘You dumbass. Don’t do that. Ever again.’ Understood? This is your one and only near death experience you’re allowed to have.”

“Okay, sweetie. I understand.”

Mayday pressed his lips against yours, needing to remind himself you were there, you were alive and you were safe now. Maker, how he hated the Empire, he hated how they didn’t care about anyone. Even if they wanted to shun him and his brothers, they should at least take care of you. 

He lifted you with his arms as he wrapped them around you, hugging you close to his body. He never wanted to think about losing you again. Hopefully, with the new Lieutenant that was to be arriving in a few days, things would get better. At least, he hoped you’d all get some new equipment and supplies. 

Main Master List   |  Star Wars Fic Roulette

Tag list:

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[mjsdiana]

𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚕𝚎

*Requested*

1988

New York City

Word Count: 13.5k

It had been four agonizing days since you'd last spoken to him, since you'd even allowed yourself to think of him. His presence, once so comforting, now felt like a jagged wound. Each memory of him was another shard of glass piercing through you. The betrayal, the heartbreak—it felt like your chest had been crushed, shattered into a million tiny fragments, impossible to piece back together. He had called you "My Girl," made you believe you were his everything, but after that night, everything was tainted. What once felt like a dream was now an unrelenting nightmare, one that played on repeat in your mind, tormenting you with every passing moment.

That night was plastered everywhere—on television screens, across newspaper headlines, whispered about in conversations you couldn't escape. That kiss, her kiss, replayed over and over in your mind, like a cruel loop. The sight of her lips on his still burned into your vision, making you nauseous with every flash of recollection.

Why did she kiss him? And why did he just stand there, unmoving, as if her lips on his meant nothing? A thousand questions raced through your mind, all of them worse than the last. Had he been cheating on you this whole time? Was every sweet word, every whispered promise, a lie? Had the love you thought was so real never even existed at all?

Now, you sat stiffly at the dinner in his honor, your presence at the event feeling like a punishment. It was being hosted by the United Negro College Fund, an evening meant to celebrate his success, but for you, it felt like your heart was being laid bare before a crowd. His mother, Katherine, had insisted you attend, had even personally invited you. She held your hand now, her fingers warm and gentle, silently acknowledging the depth of your pain. She knew. She understood what it felt like to see the man you loved kiss someone else in front of thousands of people at Madison Square Garden, to have that image seared into your memory. It was unbearable.

Every second in that room felt suffocating. It was as if his eyes were always on you, watching, piercing through you with a burning intensity that made you sick. You could feel your pulse racing, the bile rising in your throat as you fought back the urge to scream, to cry, to demand answers from the man who had shattered your heart. The weight of your grief was suffocating, and it sat heavy on your chest, trapping you in place.

You hadn't spoken to him since that night. You couldn't. The moment the scene had unfolded in front of you—her lips pressed against his, his frozen reaction—you'd fled. Your heart pounding, your vision blurred with tears, you'd rushed back to the hotel, barely registering your surroundings as you packed your bags with shaking hands. The ache in your chest was unbearable, suffocating, and the thought of being near him, breathing the same air as him, felt like it would destroy you. So you ran, found another hotel, anywhere that offered an escape from the tormenting replay of that kiss.

But no matter how far you went, no matter how many doors you closed between you and him, the truth clung to you like a shadow. You had once believed—truly believed—that he loved you, that you were his everything. Now, that belief felt shattered, crumbled into dust by the cold reality of what you had witnessed. The love you had trusted in so completely now seemed like nothing more than a cruel illusion.

"Relax, hun," Katherine's soft voice broke through your spiraling thoughts. Her hand, warm and steady, gave yours a reassuring squeeze.

You swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that threatened to escape. The knot in your throat tightened as you forced out, "I'm trying... it's just... looking at him, being here... I don't know if I can do this."

Katherine turned slightly in her seat, her eyes soft but searching as they met yours. "Have the both of you talked?" she asked gently, her voice filled with concern.

You shook your head, unable to find the words. The weight of everything unsaid pressed down on you as you glanced up, only to see Michael standing at the front of the room, now wearing a cap and gown—a doctorate cap and gown. He had earned this moment, a recognition of his achievements, but the sight of him—his eyes locking with yours, that familiar smile beginning to spread across his face—made your heart lurch painfully in your chest. You quickly looked away, focusing on the folds of your dress, anything but him.

Katherine's voice was patient but firm as she spoke again. "Sweetheart, you both need to talk. Holding it in won't help. It'll only eat you up inside."

Your throat tightened, and you turned to her, your voice trembling as you admitted, "If I talk to him, I might cry the whole time... I don't know if I can do it."

Katherine's eyes softened with understanding. "And it's okay to cry. Let it out if you need to. Michael didn't mean any of what happened that night. The girl only did it to get under your skin, to make you angry. She knew exactly what she was doing, and she got what she wanted. Michael fired her that same night—he wanted to tell you, but when he came back to the hotel, you were already gone."

You could feel your heart clenching, torn between hope and doubt. "What if he's lying to you?" you whispered, barely able to get the words out. "What if... what if he's seeing her? What if there's something going on between them, and I'm just too blind to see it?"

Katherine shook her head with conviction, her grip on your hand tightening just slightly. "I know my son," she said softly but with a quiet strength. "When I looked into his eyes that night, I knew. He wasn't lying to me. He was devastated, sweetheart. He made a mistake by not stopping it fast enough, but he's not seeing her. I can promise you that."

Her words offered a glimmer of reassurance, but the doubt still gnawed at you. The memory of that kiss, of the crowd, of the betrayal—it was all so fresh, the wound still too raw. Could you trust him again? Could you even bear to hear his side of the story, knowing that it might break you even more? The thought of facing him, of letting him see your tears, felt too overwhelming to contemplate.

But somewhere deep inside, you knew Katherine was right. Holding everything inside would only deepen the hurt. If you didn't talk to him, the questions would never stop, the pain would never heal.

"I can't believe I'm nervous," Michael's voice reverberated through the speakers, deep and familiar, sending a shiver down your spine. It was a sound you had been avoiding, a voice that used to be your comfort, now stirring a mixture of longing and pain within you as if you hadn't heard it in years.

The crowd laughed softly, charmed by his humility, and even Katherine smiled, her hand still wrapped securely around yours, her thumb grazing the delicate skin of your knuckles. Her touch was gentle, but it tethered you, grounding you amidst the swirling emotions threatening to pull you under.

Michael cleared his throat, his voice softer this time, almost vulnerable. "But I really am embarrassed. I appreciate everyone coming tonight... all these great friends, the people who've supported me through thick and thin. My dear mother and father, who are here in the audience."

Applause erupted as Michael gestured toward Katherine and Joe. The room seemed to collectively turn their attention to them, but his eyes—they were locked on you, unyielding, even as he smiled for the crowd. "Stand up," he encouraged, his voice echoing with a certain pride that you couldn't bear to acknowledge.

Katherine gently rose, her hand never leaving yours, as if she knew that if she let go, you might crumble. Joe stood as well, a grin spreading across his face as they soaked in the crowd's cheers. But you remained seated, stiff, still staring at the ground. It felt as though if you met his gaze, even for a second, you'd break apart, and you couldn't afford that—not here, not in front of all these people.

Katherine squeezed your hand tightly as she sat back down, her fingers still clutching yours, protective, like a mother shielding her child from the storm. You clung to that gesture, feeling like something small and fragile, lost and unsure.

You tried to focus on anything but him, but even as you lowered your gaze, you couldn't escape the memories flooding your mind. You stared down at your dress, the one he had picked out for you, his exact words echoing in your head: "I know you'll love this." It had been perfect—he had known your taste so well, had known you so well. But now, that once-beautiful gown felt like a weight, something forbidden, a painful reminder of the intimacy you had shared, the deep connection that had once defined your relationship.

Michael continued to speak, his voice rising and falling as he delivered what must have been a carefully crafted speech. But you didn't hear the words. You couldn't. They blurred together in the background, distant and meaningless, drowned out by the roar of your thoughts.

You tried to remember, tried to grasp at the fragments of what you had once shared. The way he'd make you laugh with just a look, the secret touches under the dinner table, the nights where your heart felt like it would burst with the intensity of your love for him. The connection, the trust, the bond that had seemed unbreakable. But now... it all felt so far away, like a faded memory, an echo of something that once was. The love that had once filled your heart felt hollow now, emptied by doubt, by betrayal, by the haunting image of her lips on his.

What had once been so vibrant between you—so pure and unbreakable—now felt tarnished, a cracked reflection of everything you thought you knew. As Michael's voice echoed through the room, each word from his speech felt like a weight, pressing down on you, making it harder to breathe. The ground beneath you seemed to shift, unstable, leaving you with nothing solid to cling to. Every memory, every smile, every promise hung in the air like fragile glass, threatening to shatter at any moment.

Once the speeches ended, there was a collective sigh of relief from the audience, but for you, the tension only mounted. Michael made his way to his parents, his smile warm and effortless as he embraced them. Katherine's hand slipped from yours as she stood to greet him, and that single moment of separation hit you with a force you hadn't expected. It was as if the last tether holding you together had snapped, and reality crashed down like a tidal wave, merciless and cold.

The tears you had fought so hard to contain finally escaped, hot streaks running down your cheeks, betraying the calm façade you'd tried to maintain all evening. You hastily grabbed a napkin, dabbing at the moisture before anyone else could notice, but it felt futile. The ache inside you wasn't something you could wipe away.

And then, there he was. Kneeling before you, Michael's presence consumed the space, suffocating in its intensity. His hand reached out, gripping yours firmly, as if trying to anchor you back to him, to that version of you that had once believed in him so completely. The warmth of his touch was like fire against your skin, burning through the layers of hurt you had tried to bury. It ignited something deep inside, a rush of emotions you weren't ready for.

You pulled away quickly, instinctively, like his touch was too much, too overwhelming. But it was already too late. Just that brief contact had opened the floodgates. The dam holding back your tears collapsed, and the pain you had suppressed came rushing to the surface. The weight of it all was unbearable, the heartbreak, the betrayal—it all came spilling out in an uncontrollable torrent.

Without a word, you stood abruptly, your chair scraping against the floor as you pushed back from the table. You could feel eyes on you as you moved, but you didn't care. The only thing you could focus on was escape. Each step you took felt heavy, your heels clicking against the cold marble floor like a drumbeat in your chest. Faster and faster, you walked, your breaths growing shallow, desperate, until you found sanctuary in the women's restroom.

The door swung shut behind you with a dull thud, and for a moment, the silence felt deafening. You stumbled over to the sink, gripping the cool porcelain edge for support as you turned on the faucet. The sound of rushing water filled the space, drowning out the quiet sobs that had begun to escape your throat. You stared at your reflection, but the tears blurred your vision until all you could see was a distorted image of yourself—lost, broken, and heart-wrenchingly alone.

The pain was suffocating, wrapping around your chest like a vise. Every breath felt labored, your heart pounding erratically in your ribcage, a wild, desperate beat that matched the chaos inside your mind. Why had you come? The question looped over and over, each repetition deepening your regret. It felt like a cruel trap—an elaborate game you had been pulled into without ever realizing the rules.

The bathroom door creaked open, and the soft sound of it locking echoed through the room. You froze, your tears momentarily pausing as dread pooled in your stomach. You looked up at the mirror, but your eyes were still too blurred with emotion to see clearly. All you could make out was a figure, the deep red of their clothing catching your attention.

The figure approached, each step deliberate, but you couldn't move. You stood there, helpless, until they reached forward and turned off the water with a quiet click. It wasn't until you felt the familiar warmth of his hand brushing against your cheek, wiping away the tears, that you realized—it was Michael.

His touch was gentle, tender, as he carefully dried your eyes with a paper towel, his gaze never leaving yours. For a moment, the world around you seemed to still, the storm of emotions paused as you stood there, facing the man who had caused so much of your heartache. His presence was overwhelming, filling every inch of the room, and despite everything, a part of you still ached for him, for the connection you had lost.

Michael's large, warm hands cupped your face, his fingers spreading over your cheeks with that familiar tenderness that once made you feel safe. His touch was a comfort you had longed for in your sleepless nights, yet it now felt like a betrayal. You wanted to melt into it, to give in to the sensation of being cared for, but something inside you resisted—an ache too deep to ignore. You pushed him away, your hands trembling as they met his chest.

"Leave," you whispered, but even your voice betrayed you, cracking with the pain you had tried so hard to conceal.

Michael's brow furrowed, his expression softening as he took a step back. "Can we talk, please?" His voice, so pleading, felt like a dagger. He moved toward you again, cautiously, as if afraid you might shatter. "All I need is five minutes."

Your tears blurred the edges of his figure, but the hurt inside you was sharp and clear. You wiped at your eyes furiously, your hands shaking. "Just five? Just five minutes?" You laughed bitterly, though it was choked with emotion. "All you need is five minutes to fix what you messed up? Five minutes to fix a six-year relationship?"

"Baby, listen, I—" he started, his tone desperate, but it only fueled your rage.

"Don't 'baby' me, Michael!" Your voice echoed in the small space, each word laced with the bitterness of betrayal. "I'm not your baby after you kissed that... that girl on stage, in front of everyone—your fans, the world." Your voice wavered as the images you had tried to block out resurfaced, haunting you. "I have to see it every day, Michael. Her lips on yours, pulling you in close, like she was claiming you, owning you. Why? Was I not enough for you? Was I not the one you wanted, the one you needed?"

Your voice cracked with the weight of those questions, and the tears that you had tried so hard to hold back began to fall in earnest, hot and relentless. You could barely breathe through the sobs that wracked your body, each one pulling you deeper into the pain. Before you could step away, Michael was already moving toward you, wrapping his arms around you in a way that was both protective and suffocating. He held you close, his hand gently caressing your back in soothing circles as you broke down completely.

"Let it out," he whispered, his voice low and soft, like a lullaby meant to calm a storm. He didn't try to explain himself just yet, knowing that words would only make things worse in that fragile moment. He simply held you, absorbing the tremors of your sobs, allowing you to cling to him like he was the only thing keeping you from collapsing.

You buried your face in his chest, the fabric of his red blazer damp with your tears. The scent of him filled your senses—familiar, intoxicating—pulling you back into memories of better days. Days when his presence alone was enough to silence all your fears, to make the world feel right. But now, even with him so close, that feeling of security was gone, replaced by an overwhelming sense of loss.

Michael lifted your chin gently, his thumb grazing your skin as he tilted your face up to meet his eyes. There was a softness there, an apology unspoken but clear in the way he looked at you. "Give me an hour," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "But we can't talk here. Come with me back to the hotel. Please."

"An hour?" you asked, your voice hoarse from crying. You weren't sure you had the strength to relive everything, to open the floodgates again, but something in his voice, in the way he held you, made you pause.

Michael nodded, his expression resolute. "Maybe all night if that's what it takes," he added, his voice soft but firm, as if he had already resigned himself to whatever consequences might come from this conversation.

You hesitated, every muscle in your body screaming for you to run, but instead, you found yourself nodding. "Okay," you whispered.

Michael's hands moved with care as he grabbed another paper towel, gently drying the tears that still clung to your skin. His touch was almost reverent, as if he were handling something fragile and precious. He wiped away the last traces of your tears, even brushing softly over your lips, his fingers lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.

"Don't cry," he said softly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of forgiveness. "I promise I'll explain everything to you."

You didn't respond, your throat too tight, your heart too numb. The words he spoke felt distant, as though they belonged to someone else, someone who hadn't been hurt like you had. You weren't sure if you could believe him anymore.

You followed Michael out of the bathroom, your hand limp in his as he unlocked the door and guided you into the dimly lit hallway. The cool night air hit your skin as you stepped outside, the gentle breeze doing little to ease the storm inside your chest. His limo sat waiting at the back exit, a sleek, black vessel that felt like a temporary escape from the emotions swirling in your mind. The driver, ever the professional, opened the door wordlessly, giving you a brief, respectful nod.

Michael let go of your hand, his touch lingering in the empty space between you, before he gestured for you to step inside. You hesitated, just for a moment, your mind racing with second thoughts, but the exhaustion from your emotions made the decision for you. You slipped into the cool leather seat, the familiar scent of luxury filling your senses. Michael slid in beside you, and the door was quietly closed behind him, sealing you both inside the small, intimate space.

Without a word, he reached over and pulled the privacy screen shut, his long fingers steady and deliberate. It was something he had always been particular about—privacy, especially when it came to you. He didn't want the world prying into moments like these, moments that felt too raw, too personal for anyone else to witness.

For a few beats, silence hung in the air, thick and heavy between you. The hum of the car's engine barely registered in the back of your mind, drowned out by the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. The weight of everything—the betrayal, the hurt, the confusion—sat like a stone in your chest, making it hard to breathe. You stared out the window, watching the city lights blur as the car began to move, but even the distraction of the outside world couldn't quiet the ache inside you.

Michael shifted beside you, his gaze burning into the side of your face, but you refused to meet his eyes. You weren't ready, not yet. The thought of confronting everything he had done—everything he had ruined—was too much. You could feel the tension radiating off him, the way his body tensed as if he wanted to reach out to you, to fix what had been broken, but he held back. He knew better than to push you right now.

Finally, the silence broke, his voice soft, almost pleading. "I know you're hurting," he said, his tone careful, measured, as if afraid to say the wrong thing. "And I know I'm the one who caused it. But if you give me a chance... just one chance... I'll explain everything. I owe you that much."

You didn't say anything, your mind racing with a thousand different thoughts, none of them offering any clarity. A part of you wanted to scream, to tell him that no explanation could fix what he had done. But another part, a smaller, quieter part, still yearned for the Michael you had once known—the Michael who made you feel loved, cherished, like you were the only person in the world that mattered.

He reached for your hand again, his fingers brushing against yours with a tentative touch, but this time, you pulled away, folding your arms tightly across your chest as if trying to protect yourself from the vulnerability that came with being near him.

The limo continued to glide through the streets, its quiet hum the only sound between you. Minutes stretched on, and the weight of everything unsaid felt suffocating. Finally, you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. "Why did you do it, Michael?" You didn't look at him, your eyes still fixed on the window. "Why wasn't I enough?"

Michael's hand reached out, gentle yet insistent, turning your face toward him. His touch was familiar, tender, and his gaze was pleading. "You are enough," he whispered, his voice soft but filled with an intensity that cut through the silence. "Every bit of you is enough. Enough for me."

For a moment, your eyes met his, and in that brief exchange, you saw the sincerity—the regret—etched into his features. But it wasn't enough. You pushed his hand away, your gaze falling back to the cityscape outside the window, the lights blurring into streaks of color. "I don't feel like it," you murmured, barely loud enough to be heard. "If I was enough, you wouldn't have kissed her."

His breath hitched, and you could hear the quiet shake in his voice as he responded, "She kissed me. It wasn't meant to happen. She didn't stick to the script. I only went along with it because... because I didn't want to embarrass her. But deep down, I wanted to push her away. I should have pushed her away."

You turned further from him, the weight of his words doing little to ease the ache inside your chest. "You should have," you whispered, the bitterness of it lingering on your tongue. The image of him with her, of their lips meeting, replayed in your mind, a loop that wouldn't stop. How could he not see the damage it had done?

"Baby, I wasn't going to embarrass her," he said, his voice growing more desperate as he reached out again, this time resting his hand gently on your thigh. The touch sent a shockwave through you—his warmth seeping through the thin, delicate fabric of the red satin dress he had chosen for you. "But I knew I messed up the moment you walked out that night."

You didn't respond. Your silence spoke louder than words. The flood of emotions that had been brewing within you—rage, hurt, betrayal—clashed violently with the part of you that still ached for him, that still longed for the man sitting beside you.

Michael withdrew his hand from your thigh, his fingers curling into a fist as he turned his gaze away, his expression one of defeat. You could sense his guilt, the deep regret that radiated from him. He was lost in the silence, unsure of how to make things right.

But then, without fully understanding why, you reached out, your hand hovering for a moment before gently covering his. The warmth of his skin beneath yours was a reminder of everything you had shared—the love, the intimacy, the trust. It wasn't a solution, not yet, but it was something.

Michael's head turned slowly toward you, his eyes searching yours as if trying to find hope. When he saw your hand resting over his, his gaze softened. He didn't say anything, didn't dare break the fragile peace that seemed to settle between you. Instead, he turned his hand over, his fingers intertwining with yours, holding you tightly, as though afraid to let go.

In that moment, it wasn't forgiveness—not yet. But it was a step. One small step toward something that felt like it could be mended, if only you could both find the strength to rebuild what had been broken.

The limo coasted to a stop in front of the Helmsley Hotel, a place that once held memories of fleeting happiness and painful betrayal. The hotel's grand entrance loomed before you, a reminder of the night you had fled, desperate to escape the life you thought you'd be leaving behind. Yet, here you were again, back in the same place, back with the same man who refused to let you go. Michael wasn't going to let you slip away—not this time.

The door opened, and Michael stepped out first, his hand extending toward you. His grip was firm yet gentle, pulling you close to him as you both walked toward the hotel's towering doors. Inside, the rich red and gold decor filled the lobby, the marble floors gleaming beneath the soft lighting. Each step echoed in the space around you, the weight of the moment heavy on your shoulders.

Michael's hand remained on the small of your back as you approached the elevator. He pressed the button with a deliberate touch, the soft light glowing beneath his finger, a subtle reminder of the path ahead. You glanced down at your feet, the polished tips of your heels reflecting the tension you felt building inside. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, a small gesture meant to comfort you, but it only reminded you of the ache still lodged deep in your chest.

The elevator doors slid open with a quiet ding, the polished interior welcoming you inside. Michael stepped back, letting you enter first before following closely behind. He pressed the button for the top floor—the floor where his suite awaited—and the doors closed, sealing the two of you in together. The only sound that filled the space was the low hum of sensual jazz, its smooth notes creating an intimate backdrop for the tension that lingered between you.

Without a word, Michael moved closer, his arms encircling your waist from behind, pulling you against his chest. His hands rested gently on your front, holding you as though afraid to let you drift too far. You felt the warmth of his breath against your neck, his steady breathing grounding you in the moment.

You glanced down at his hands, resting atop yours. His thumb grazed over your engagement ring, the one you had nearly taken off that night—the night you'd left him. It felt heavy now, a symbol of something you weren't sure you could still hold onto. Yet, in his touch, there was familiarity, a longing that whispered of the connection you both shared despite the pain.

The elevator doors slid open, revealing the hallway to his suite. Michael loosened his hold on you but kept your hand firmly in his as you both stepped out, walking in silence down the plush carpeted hall. His grip tightened just slightly, his thumb tracing gentle circles over your palm as you reached the door. He pulled the key card from his pocket and slid it into the lock, the soft click echoing in the quiet corridor. The door opened, and he let you step inside first, flipping the switch to bathe the suite in a soft, dim glow.

He followed behind, closing the door with a soft thud, the sound of the lock turning a subtle reminder of the privacy now surrounding you both. You walked across the room, your heels sinking into the plush carpet as you approached the tall glass windows. Outside, the city of New York stretched before you, the night alive with lights and movement, a stark contrast to the stillness you felt inside.

Michael stood back, watching you. He didn't want to disturb the fragile peace, his gaze lingering on your silhouette as you stared out at the city. You heard his soft footsteps retreat, but the tension between you remained thick, unspoken.

"Michael..." your voice was barely a whisper, the sound cutting through the stillness.

He stopped, turning back toward you, his eyes searching yours. "Yes?"

"I—" You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. You glanced back out at the city lights, the answer to your question lost somewhere in the blur of emotions. "Never mind," you murmured, turning away from him again.

Michael's sigh was heavy, weighted with regret and weariness as he took a step toward you. Each movement felt deliberate, as if he feared that closing the physical space between you might shatter the fragile calm. The soft rustle of his clothes brushed against the silence of the room, but it couldn't bridge the emotional chasm that now lay between you both—vast, like an ocean neither of you knew how to cross.

"You can talk to me," he murmured, his voice low and earnest, as if he was trying to coax out the words you were holding back. "You can say anything you need. I know you're mad. Frustrated. Angry. Upset. You have every right to be." His hand hovered for a moment before it gently brushed against yours, tentative, like he was afraid you'd pull away.

When your eyes finally met his, the tears that had welled up moments before threatened to spill over. His eyes softened, dark and pained, pleading in a way that unsettled you. It wasn't just the guilt—it was the rawness, the fragility you weren't used to seeing in him. And for a second, it almost cracked the walls you'd built.

"I mean it, deep down with everything I have, I swear to you—" His voice wavered as if the truth was burning him from the inside out. "I didn't want to kiss her. It wasn't supposed to happen. She didn't stick to the script. I had to fire her. She's off the tour, I made sure of it." His voice held the weight of a promise, but you weren't sure if you believed it anymore. Could promises still matter when trust had been shattered?

You looked at him, your gaze trying to pierce through the layers of his words, searching his face, his eyes, for something—anything—to tell you if he was telling the truth. His eyes, wide and glistening, held that familiar warmth, the warmth that once made you feel safe, but now felt distant, like a memory you couldn't quite grasp.

You let out a sigh, heavy and exhausted, your gaze drifting back to the window. The city lights blurred behind your tears, a mess of color and light reflecting the turmoil inside you. Michael stood there for a moment longer, watching you, before he reached out again—this time, his hand found your chin, the touch tender yet firm as he turned your face back to his.

"Can I ask you something?" His voice was quieter now, more fragile, as though he was treading on dangerous ground.

You swallowed hard, feeling the tension in your throat as you tried to suppress the anger that threatened to spill over. "What?" Your voice came out sharper than you intended, but you couldn't help it. The weight of your hurt clung to every word.

He held your gaze, not backing down. "Do you trust me?"

Silence. The question hung in the air between you, thick and suffocating. You didn't answer, couldn't answer. Trust? How could he ask that now, after everything?

He stepped back slightly, his voice even softer now. "If you don't, I'll leave you be. But I need to know... do you trust me?"

The words stung. Part of you wanted to scream that you didn't, that he'd lost that right when he let her lips touch his. But something inside, something small and wounded, still wanted to believe him. "I trust you," you whispered, the words feeling both true and false all at once.

Michael took a small breath, relief flickering in his eyes, but you weren't done. "Look at me," he said, his tone a little firmer now, pulling you out of your thoughts. His hand, still on your chin, tilted your face just enough so your eyes met his fully.

"Do you still love me?" His voice cracked ever so slightly, and you saw the tears begin to well up in his eyes, though he fought to keep them from falling. His vulnerability was heartbreaking, but the question cut too deep.

Your hand fell from his, your body going cold as the gravity of his question hit you. It wasn't just about trust—it was about everything. Love, broken promises, the future you once saw together, now clouded with doubt.

Michael blinked rapidly, trying to push back the tears that threatened to spill over. "Please don't do this," he whispered, his voice shaky and desperate. "Tell me you still love me. Tell me you still want to be my wife." His words came out in a rush, like he was afraid if he stopped speaking, the silence would swallow him whole.

Your throat tightened, the lump there almost unbearable. Your heart pounded in your chest, the rhythm erratic and painful. You did love him—you couldn't deny that, even if you wanted to. Every piece of you, every broken part, still loved him. Even the pieces that hurt the most.

But the question wasn't whether you loved him—it was whether you could move past this, whether you could still be the woman who stood by his side, the woman who once trusted him so completely.

The air between you felt thick, almost suffocating, as you took a step back. Michael's desperation was palpable, his movements quick as he closed the distance you tried to create. "Do you still love me?" His voice cracked, raw with emotion. "I will get down on my knees and beg!" The intensity in his eyes made your chest tighten, and for a split second, you saw him lower himself, his knees threatening to meet the floor.

"Don't do that," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, but firm enough to stop him. You took another step back, instinctively, as if space could shield you from the weight of his plea. But Michael wasn't giving up. He moved closer, his presence overwhelming, and before you could retreat further, his hand caught yours.

His fingers wrapped around your hand, holding on as if he feared you might disappear if he let go. "Tell me you still love me, please..." The way his voice wavered, like a man on the edge of losing everything, sent a shiver through you. "Baby, please!" His grip tightened, his words almost echoing off the walls of the suite, as though he needed the room itself to hear his cry for mercy.

Your eyes drifted to where your hands were intertwined, his large, calloused fingers enveloping yours. You felt the tremor in his hand, the desperation coursing through him. Slowly, your thumb brushed over his knuckles, tracing the familiar ridges and veins, grounding yourself in that simple touch. When your gaze met his, the raw vulnerability in his eyes nearly unraveled you.

"I-I still love you," you whispered, the words barely escaping your lips, but they carried the weight of your heart.

Michael's face softened, but the wariness lingered in his gaze. He wasn't sure yet, wasn't certain if you meant it fully, and you could see the question hovering in his eyes. "Do you mean it?" His voice was soft, almost afraid to hear the answer.

You nodded, feeling the burn of unshed tears in your throat. "I do. I-I could never stop loving you. Not even the bones in my body could stop loving you." The words flowed softly from you, but they felt heavy, laced with the depth of the love that still lingered, even after everything.

Relief washed over Michael, and he stepped even closer, his body just inches from yours now, the warmth radiating off him in waves. "Do you forgive me?" The question lingered in the air, heavy and full of hope.

You hesitated only a moment before nodding. "I forgive you," you said softly, feeling the weight of the words lift from your chest as you released them.

Michael exhaled a long, shaky breath, like a man who had been holding it for far too long. "You still my girl?" His voice was tender now, searching for the reassurance that you were still his, that he hadn't lost you completely.

You met his gaze, your heart swelling with emotion. "I'm still yours," you whispered, the truth of it ringing in the space between you.

Michael's hand cupped your face, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheek with a tenderness that made your heart ache. "I love you," he murmured, his voice full of sincerity, each word wrapped in the emotion he could barely contain.

You couldn't help but smile, the corners of your lips lifting softly. "I love you," you replied, the words a balm to the cracks in both your hearts.

He moved even closer, his breath warm against your skin, his lips hovering just inches from yours. "Can I kiss you?" His voice was playful now, a slight grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, though the intensity in his eyes never wavered.

A soft laugh escaped you, shaking your head lightly. "You don't have to ask me that. You can kiss me," you teased, the lightness between you returning for the first time in what felt like forever.

Michael chuckled, the sound low and warm. "I wanted to ask first," he teased, leaning in just a little more. "I don't need you biting my head off." His words were playful, but the look in his eyes was one of deep, unwavering affection. He wasn't just asking for a kiss—he was asking for the chance to heal.

Your lips curled into a faint smile as you closed the remaining distance between you, your breath brushing against his. "I wouldn't bite your head off," you whispered, your voice soft yet teasing, "unless this took a completely different turn. You should be lucky your mother saved your ass." You moved even closer, feeling the heat of his body wrap around yours like a warm blanket, grounding you both in that moment of vulnerability.

Michael wrapped his arms around you, pulling you flush against him as his forehead rested gently against yours. "She told you, didn't she?" His voice was low, laced with guilt, yet there was a tenderness to it that tugged at your heart.

You nodded slightly, feeling his breath mingle with yours. "She did," you whispered. "But I didn't want to hear it from her. I needed to hear it from the man who put this ring on my finger and promised to love me."

His lips hovered just over yours, brushing against them softly, barely a touch, but it sent a wave of warmth coursing through your veins. "I do love you. All of you," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he finally closed the gap, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was tender, yet filled with the desperation of a man trying to make amends.

His lips were warm, soft, and comforting, moving with a gentle urgency that conveyed everything words couldn't. He kissed you deeply, pouring everything he had into that moment, as if trying to kiss away the pain, the hurt, the doubt. You felt your body melt against his, the tension in your muscles unraveling as he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you like he never wanted to let go.

As the kiss deepened, you felt your legs grow weak beneath you, your resolve crumbling under the weight of his affection. With a practiced ease, Michael scooped you up into his arms, cradling you as if you were the most precious thing in his world. Your lips never parted as he carried you, the soft click of his shoes echoing in the suite as he led you both down the hallway.

You kicked off your heels, the soft thuds as they scattered across the floor barely registering in your mind. All you could focus on was him—his warmth, his touch, the way his lips continued to claim yours with a passion that left you breathless.

Michael nudged open the bedroom door with a soft kick, closing it with another, the quiet click of the door signaling the intimacy of the moment. He walked over to the bed, laying you down with a gentleness that belied the intensity of the kiss still lingering on your lips. He kissed you again, deeper this time, his body hovering over yours as you sank into the plush mattress.

His hand roamed your arms, fingers trailing over your soft skin, igniting a fire everywhere he touched. Slowly, he reached for the straps of your dress, pulling them down with deliberate care, his lips never leaving yours. You lifted your arms, letting the dress slide off, pooling in a rich, crimson stain on the floor, leaving you bare save for the delicate lace of your black panties.

Michael's lips moved from yours, trailing down your cheek and along your neck, each kiss sending a shiver of pleasure through you. His breath was hot against your skin as he found the pulse point at your throat, sucking gently, his touch igniting every nerve in your body. The intoxicating mix of your pheromones and the familiar scent of your skin only spurred him on, heightening the moment as his kisses grew more fervent.

Your hands found their way into his hair, fingers tangling in the soft curls as you let out a quiet gasp. He pressed his body against yours, the heat between you almost unbearable, and yet, you craved more. The way his lips worshipped your skin, the way his hands explored every inch of you—it was as if he was trying to memorize you, to make up for every wrong with each kiss, each touch.

With each breath, each kiss that grazed your skin, Michael was more than just a reminder of the love you shared—he was a force pulling you deeper into that connection, a tether to something unbreakable, even in the face of all your doubts. His lips moved like a soft whisper, trailing reverently down the curve of your body, leaving a path of heat in their wake. As his mouth traveled lower, the ache in your chest, the heaviness of the past few days, began to unravel, replaced by the overwhelming presence of him—of the man you could never stop loving, no matter how hard you tried.

Michael paused at your chest, kissing delicately down the valley between your breasts before continuing his descent. His movements were unhurried, savoring every inch of your skin as if committing it to memory. When he reached your stomach, his breath warm against your skin, he shed his red blazer in a single fluid motion, the soft rustle of fabric hitting the floor echoing faintly in the room. The air felt charged between you, a silent promise hanging in the space as his lips continued downward, inch by inch, until they found the sensitive skin of your lower abdomen.

His teeth grazed the waistband of your panties, latching onto the delicate fabric as he slowly, teasingly, tugged them down your legs. The sensation was tantalizing, every movement deliberate and filled with purpose. You felt the cool air brush against your bare skin as the lace fell away, pooling on the floor beneath you. Now, you were laid completely bare before him, vulnerable and exposed in a way that left your heart racing, but trusting him entirely.

Michael's hands found your thighs, his grip firm yet gentle as he guided your legs back toward your chest, your knees brushing softly against your skin. He kissed along your inner thighs with a tenderness that nearly undid you, each press of his lips a silent declaration of his love, his devotion. The heat of his mouth sent shivers up your spine, a delicious contrast to the cool air of the room, and your body instinctively arched toward him, seeking more of his touch.

"Michael..." you breathed, the sound barely a whisper, your voice heavy with longing. You could feel the intensity of his gaze, the weight of his attention fully focused on you, on pleasing you, on reminding you that his love had never wavered.

With slow, measured care, he spread your legs wider, revealing the most intimate part of yourself to him. His eyes darkened with desire as he kissed the soft skin around your center, brushing his lips against your folds in a way that made your breath hitch. The anticipation coiled tightly in your core, your entire body attuned to every movement he made.

When his tongue flicked out, tasting the arousal that had already begun to glisten on your skin, a shuddering moan escaped your lips. "Oh God," you gasped, your head falling back against the pillows, fingers tangling in the sheets as pleasure rippled through you.

Michael's fingers slid between your folds, his touch firm yet tender as he parted them, exposing you fully to him. His tongue found your clit with an expert precision, flicking it in quick, teasing motions that made you gasp for breath, your body instinctively arching into him. He sucked gently on the sensitive nub, his lips moving with practiced ease, as if worshipping the very core of your pleasure. The sensation was overwhelming, every nerve in your body alight with the intensity of it.

His tongue moved lower, dipping into your entrance, thrusting slowly in and out as he tasted you, the warmth of your walls clenching around him with every movement. The sensation of his tongue exploring you, combined with the rhythmic strokes on your clit, sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, building with each passing second.

"Don't stop," you begged, your voice breathless, desperate, as your fingers found their way into his hair. You tugged gently, not wanting to hurt him but needing something to hold onto as your body teetered on the edge of release.

Michael groaned softly against you, the vibration sending another shock of pleasure through your core. He doubled down, flicking his tongue with more intensity over your clit while thrusting it deeper inside you, his lips moving in perfect rhythm. The pressure was building, an inferno in your belly, and you could feel yourself spiraling toward release, your hips beginning to move in time with his mouth, chasing that edge, that moment of bliss that was so close you could taste it.

Your breath hitched, your chest rising and falling in rapid succession as the pleasure built with a tantalizing intensity. Your body trembled, hips instinctively grinding against his face, chasing that elusive release he was masterfully guiding you toward. The tension in your core twisted tighter, every nerve electrified, every sensation amplified as you teetered on the edge of bliss.

Michael's fingers slid inside you with ease, his middle and ring fingers curling just right, hitting that perfect spot with every thrust. His tongue, slick and warm, moved back to your clit, the soft flicks sending sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine. His pace was steady, controlled, each movement deliberate as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, your arousal coating them in a glistening sheen.

He rested his head against your left thigh, the warmth of his breath fanning across your skin, grounding you in the moment. His tongue moved lazily over your sensitive nub, each slow flick driving you mad with need. He was edging you, teasing you with the slow, deliberate pace, keeping you right on the precipice without allowing you to fall over.

"Michael, I'm so close," you moaned, your voice trembling with desperation, your body arching toward him, begging for release.

But instead of giving you what you craved, he slowed down. His fingers moved inside you with an agonizing slowness, his tongue tracing languid circles over your clit, drawing out the moment. The tension in your core tightened even further, the pleasure building but never quite reaching that peak. He was toying with you, pushing you to the brink and pulling you back, and it was driving you wild.

"Michael, please!" you whimpered, your voice raw with need, your fingers digging into the sheets as you writhed beneath him, desperate for more.

He lifted his head just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark and molten with desire. Those big, brown eyes—eyes that had always held you captive—drew you in even deeper, pulling you into the depths of his love and passion. His gaze was intense, filled with a hunger that matched your own, but beneath it all was the tenderness that had always made your heart ache for him.

"Mmm, you taste so good, baby," he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. His tongue flicked lazily over your clit again, drawing another desperate moan from your lips.

"Michael... please, I want to cum," you begged, the words tumbling out in a breathless plea. Your body was trembling, your thighs shaking with the effort of holding back, your core burning with the need for release.

A small, wicked smile tugged at his lips as he curled his fingers inside you again, pressing deeper, finding that sweet spot with precision. You gasped, your entire body shuddering as pleasure flooded through you, your walls clenching around his fingers. His tongue resumed its slow, torturous rhythm on your clit, flicking over it with deliberate care, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

"Let go for me," he whispered against your skin, his voice barely audible but filled with command, "I want to feel you fall apart."

With that, he curved his fingers even more, pressing into that perfect spot inside you while his tongue picked up speed, flicking and swirling over your sensitive nub. Your body jolted, every muscle tensing as the pleasure built to a breaking point. You were so close—too close.

And then, with one final flick of his tongue, everything snapped.

A wave of euphoria crashed over you, your body convulsing as you came undone beneath him. You cried out, your back arching off the bed, your fingers tangling in his hair as your release washed over you in powerful waves. Your walls clenched around his fingers, your thighs trembling as the pleasure consumed you, white-hot and overwhelming.

Michael didn't stop, his fingers and tongue continuing their relentless assault, drawing out your orgasm until you were a quivering, trembling mess beneath him. He coaxed every last bit of pleasure from your body, his touch firm but gentle, his mouth worshipping you as you rode the high.

Finally, when you could take no more, your body spent and trembling, he slowed down, his fingers slipping out of you with a wet sound as he kissed his way back up your body. His lips brushed softly against your skin, each kiss tender and loving, a contrast to the intensity of the pleasure he had just given you.

He hovered above you, his breath warm against your cheek as he looked down at you with that same, unwavering affection. "I love you," he whispered, his voice hoarse but filled with sincerity.

You smiled up at him, still breathless, your chest rising and falling rapidly as your body continued to hum with the aftershocks of pleasure. "I love you too," you whispered, your voice soft but heavy with meaning, your heart swelling with the fullness of the moment.

Michael's dark eyes never left yours as he stood straight, the intensity in his gaze making the room feel smaller, the air thicker with anticipation. Slowly, he began unbuttoning his black shirt, each flick of his fingers deliberate, almost torturously slow, revealing the smooth expanse of his bare chest beneath. Your eyes followed every motion, captivated by the way his muscles shifted under his skin, the light catching on the sheen of sweat that still lingered from earlier.

He shrugged the shirt off, letting it fall to the floor without care. The fabric barely made a sound as it crumpled at his feet, but the sight of him standing there, shirtless, was enough to steal the breath from your lungs. His hands moved to his belt, the soft click of metal as he unbuckled it echoing in the quiet room. The leather slid from the loops with a quiet hiss before joining the shirt on the floor with a muted thud, forgotten in the heat of the moment.

You shifted, sitting up on the edge of the bed, your pulse quickening as you watched him with wide eyes. Michael didn't say a word as he reached out, his large hands wrapping gently around your waist as he pulled you to your feet, the warmth of his skin seeping into yours. The moment his lips met yours, the world around you melted away. The kiss was deep, fervent, full of passion, his lips moving against yours as if they were searching for something, something only you could give him.

A soft moan escaped your lips, muffled by the kiss, as his hands tightened around your waist, pulling you closer to him. The heat of his body, the firmness of his chest against you—it was intoxicating. You could feel the pulse of his need radiating from him, mirrored in the way your own body responded.

Your hands found the waistband of his pants, your fingers trembling as they unbuttoned them. The sound of the zipper lowering was lost in the fervor of the moment. With practiced ease, you slid the pants down, but before you could go any further, Michael caught your hand, guiding it beneath the waistband of his briefs. The heat of him was startling, the hardness unmistakable as your fingers wrapped around him, feeling him pulse and grow under your touch.

A shiver ran through you, your pulse quickening as the kiss deepened, your lips moving in a frantic dance of passion. You backed Michael up, the two of you moving in sync, until his back met the wall with a soft thud. He pulled away from the kiss, his breath coming in harsh pants, his forehead resting against yours as he gazed into your eyes.

"I love you," he whispered, the words rough and raw, filled with all the emotions that had been building between you.

Your eyes flicked from his lips, now swollen from the kiss, to his eyes, dark and full of longing. "I love you," you whispered back, your voice barely more than a breath as you gave his hardened shaft a teasing squeeze.

Michael's breath hitched, his hand coming up to cup your face gently, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he leaned in, capturing your lips again in a slow, sensual kiss. The intensity of it sent a jolt of electricity down your spine, and before you knew it, he was guiding you back toward the bed. Your body gave way to the soft mattress, the sheets cool against your skin as you collapsed onto it, your breath coming in short gasps as you watched him shed the rest of his clothes.

The sight of him standing there, fully bare, took your breath away. His body was a masterpiece of lean muscle, every curve and line a testament to his years of dancing. His abs were defined, his skin smooth and glistening under the soft light. His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, the slight sheen of sweat catching the light. But it was the way his hardened length stood thick and proud, the veins running along its length prominent and pulsing, that had your pulse racing.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice soft but filled with awe as he moved toward the bed, his eyes never leaving yours.

You shifted, dragging yourself up toward the headboard, watching as Michael climbed onto the bed, his movements slow, predatory. He hovered over you, his breath ghosting over your skin as he kissed his way down your body, his lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Each kiss, each flick of his tongue, sent shivers racing through you, your body arching toward him, craving his touch.

When his lips reached the apex of your thighs, he paused, his eyes flicking up to meet yours, dark with desire. He placed a soft, lingering kiss against your folds, his breath warm against your skin. The sensation sent a shockwave of pleasure through you, your body trembling with anticipation.

Michael held his hardened length in his hand, stroking himself slowly, his eyes never leaving your face as he teased you with the sight of him. His tip was slick with precum, the thick skin pulling back with each stroke, revealing the sensitive head that glistened in the low light.

He kissed his way back up your body, his lips brushing over your stomach, your chest, until finally, they found your neck. His body pressed against yours, his warmth surrounding you, the weight of him a comforting presence as his lips found yours again.

You could feel the heat of his shaft against you, the swollen tip brushing teasingly over your slick folds, sending a pulse of raw desire coursing through your body. The anticipation was electric, the air between you humming with unspoken longing as his breath mingled with yours, every brush of his skin against yours a promise of what was to come.

The teasing glide of his tip against your entrance had your heart racing, your core tightening with every soft, deliberate movement. His gaze held yours, intense and unwavering, making you feel like the only person in the world.

"You ready?" His voice was deep, laced with both tenderness and need, as he continued to nudge himself against your entrance, his precum mixing with the wetness that had already begun to gather there. The slick friction of him against you made your breath catch in your throat, and you could only nod, the words barely able to form on your lips.

"Yes, Michael," you breathed, your voice soft, trembling with the weight of desire. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, your fingers threading through his hair, anchoring yourself to him.

Michael's hand moved with practiced ease, gently lifting your left leg and draping it over his shoulder, the position opening you up to him completely. The warmth of his body was overwhelming, the sheer size of him pressing into you making you shudder with anticipation. Slowly, carefully, he guided the tip of his length inside, his every movement deliberate as he stretched you, inch by agonizing inch.

You gasped, your head falling back against the pillow as he filled you, the sensation both overwhelming and exquisite. The stretch, the fullness of him inside you, made every nerve ending in your body come alive, your slick walls pulsing around him, adjusting to the invasion.

"Shh, relax, baby," he whispered, his voice rough with restraint. His eyes, dark and full of heat, flickered up to meet yours before dipping down, captivated by the sight of himself sinking deeper into your warmth. He took his time, easing in slowly, savoring every inch as your body stretched to accommodate him.

The feeling of being completely filled sent a shudder through you, your body tightening around him as he bottomed out, his hips flush against yours. The fullness, the delicious stretch of him inside you, was overwhelming, and yet, all you wanted was more. His slow movements in and out were almost torturous, dragging out the pleasure, making you hyperaware of every inch of him.

Your eyes followed his, both of you transfixed by the sight of your bodies joined so intimately. His thick shaft glistened with your arousal, every movement making it shine under the soft, dim light. The way he slid in and out of you, slow and steady, left a trail of slick wetness that only added to the growing intensity of the moment.

Michael's breath came in shallow gasps, his mouth hanging open slightly as he watched your bodies come together again and again. The look on his face, the pure, unfiltered desire, sent a thrill through you, your own breaths turning into soft, shaky moans. Each thrust, each pull, was deliberate, his hips moving in a slow, sensual rhythm that had you climbing higher and higher.

He reached out, his hand cupping your face gently, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he leaned in, capturing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. The connection made your heart stutter, your body arching into his as he sank even deeper, the pressure building inside you unbearable in the most delicious way. Your moans were muffled against his lips, the sound of them only making him chuckle low in his throat.

He broke the kiss, his lips hovering inches from yours as he whispered, "You feel so good, baby."

And then, he went deeper, pushing past the point of teasing, hitting that spot inside you that made your vision blur, your body jerking in response. A cry escaped you, your hand flying to his abdomen, fingers splaying against the hard planes of his stomach in an attempt to steady yourself. But the truth was, you didn't want him to stop; if anything, you wanted more. Needed more.

Michael's chuckle was dark, knowing, his hand slipping from your face to your waist, holding you firmly as he thrust deeper, his pace still slow but each movement precise, deliberate. The tension was coiling tighter inside you, the heat building with every second. You could feel the pressure mounting, every nerve in your body on fire as you teetered on the edge, waiting for that final push.

"More, Michael," you pleaded, the need in your voice thick and trembling, your nails pressing into his skin with desperation. Every inch of your body was taut, straining toward the release you craved, but Michael was in control, holding you just at the edge.

"You want more?" His breath was hot and teasing against your lips, his deep voice vibrating through your chest. You nodded eagerly, your body arching into him, but Michael's dark chuckle made your heart flutter with both frustration and desire.

"I'm taking my time tonight, baby," he murmured, the words a slow, deliberate promise as his hips rocked forward again, his thrusts measured, almost torturous. "I'm not rushing anything."

A gasp tore from your lips as he pushed deeper, his tip brushing against your cervix with each precise movement, sending shockwaves of pleasure radiating through your body. Your muscles tensed, clinging to him even tighter, your breaths coming out in ragged, desperate pants.

"Michael..." you gasped, your voice a broken whisper as you held onto him like a lifeline, his warmth and weight grounding you amidst the overwhelming sensations.

His lips found the crook of your neck, soft and slow as he pressed tender kisses against your skin, the heat of his body melding with yours as he shifted, pressing deeper, stretching you further. Your leg still rested over his shoulder, his grip on your waist firm but gentle, pulling you even closer.

Each thrust was slow, deliberate, designed to make you feel every inch of him. It was maddening—the way he held back, savoring the moment, pouring all of his unspoken emotions into the rhythm of his hips. This wasn't just about pleasure—it was about making up for everything, about showing you just how much you meant to him. The love and regret hung between every breath, every deep plunge inside of you.

"Oh god, Michael..." you moaned, your voice cracking as your nails dragged down his back, leaving faint marks in your wake. His name was a soft plea, a prayer, whispered against his ear. The sound seemed to ignite something in him, urging him on, though his pace remained maddeningly slow, each thrust a steady, rhythmic beat like the pulse of a heart.

Your bodies were slick where they met, a sheen of sweat and arousal coating both of you, making the friction both unbearable and intoxicating. You could feel every inch of him, the thickness of his shaft stretching you to your limit, his tip pressing against all the right spots. Each slow retreat left you aching for more, but when he filled you again, it was like he was made to fit perfectly inside of you, his length pulsing in time with your own heartbeat.

He could feel the way your walls clenched around him, slick and hot, gripping him tighter with every slow thrust. The pressure inside of you was building, the tension coiling tighter and tighter, threatening to snap with each deliberate movement of his hips.

"Tell me what you want, baby," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear, his lips brushing the shell of it as his hand cupped your chin gently, forcing you to meet his gaze. His dark eyes were filled with heat, with the need to hear you say it.

You moaned in response, unable to form words as his lips trailed over your neck, each kiss sending jolts of pleasure down your spine. His hips continued their slow, devastating rhythm, driving you mad with need. "Tell me," he coaxed again, his voice low and rough, a command hidden within the soft plea.

"I want you," you finally gasped, your voice broken and breathless, your body trembling beneath him. "All of you," you moaned, your words spilling out between labored breaths.

Michael's lips brushed against your ear, a soft kiss filled with reverence and need. "You have all of me," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Everything." His words were a vow, one that made your heart swell as his hands gripped you tighter.

Your nails dug into his back, pulling him closer, your moans vibrating against his skin. He responded with a deep groan of his own, his body pressing harder into yours as he buried his face in the curve of your neck. His tongue flicked out, teasing your skin, before his lips latched onto your throat, sucking gently but firmly, his intention clear. He wanted to mark you, to claim you all over again, as if the love you shared could somehow be stamped into your skin.

His slow, deep thrusts had you teetering on the edge, your core burning with the need for release. The tension inside you was unbearable, your body trembling as the pressure mounted, threatening to break. You were so close, so desperately close, and he knew it. He could feel it in the way your walls clenched around him, could hear it in the breathless moans that escaped your lips.

Michael's lips hovered just above your ear, his breath hot and tantalizing as he whispered, "I can feel it, baby. You're so close. Just let go for me."

The sound of his voice sent shivers down your spine, the rumble of it vibrating through your core. You were on the edge, teetering on that precipice of pleasure that only he could push you over. "Michael, please..." Your voice cracked, laced with desperation, the heat in your body growing unbearable. You clawed at his skin, nails raking along his back in a silent, aching plea for more.

His mouth lingered at your neck, his breath teasing your sensitive skin, and his voice dripped with both power and tenderness. "What is it, beautiful? Tell me what you want."

You could barely breathe as you looked up into his eyes, pupils blown wide with need. "Harder," you whispered, your voice shaking as you tried to find the strength to speak. The tension between you was almost unbearable, a heavy, charged silence that echoed in the room.

For a moment, he just watched you, his dark, molten gaze searching your face, savoring every flicker of emotion. His slow, deliberate thrusts continued, each one calculated, driving you wild with the need for more. He was holding back, teasing you, savoring your frustration. Then, without warning, his pace changed. His hips snapped forward with a force that took your breath away, his body slamming into yours with raw, unbridled intensity.

The shock of it ripped a cry from your throat, the sound broken and jagged, your moans turning into desperate, breathless screams that echoed off the walls. His name left your lips in a shattered gasp, "Michael!" The sharp, rhythmic slapping of skin on skin filled the space, each powerful thrust driving him deeper, harder, shaking you to your very core.

His hand found your chin, gripping it possessively as he tilted your face upward, forcing you to look into his eyes. There was fire there—an intensity that left you breathless. He leaned down, his lips rough as they claimed your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a possessive mark. Each kiss felt like a brand, a reminder of the connection, the tether that held you both together in this feverish moment.

"You feel that?" he whispered against your skin, his voice a deep, dark growl that sent a shudder through your body. "I can feel how close you are... just let go, baby. Let it out."

You tried to resist, tried to hold on to the last thread of control, but it was slipping, unraveling with every brutal thrust of his hips. Each time he moved inside you, he hit that perfect spot, the one that had your body trembling, your mind slipping into a haze of pleasure. The tension inside you snapped all at once, a white-hot wave crashing over you as your body shattered. You convulsed beneath him, your muscles tightening around him, your release coming in violent, uncontrollable spasms.

Your hands flew to his back, nails digging into his skin as you cried out, your voice lost in the storm of sensation. You could feel your own slickness coating him, your release mixing with his as he kept moving, unrelenting, drawing out every last bit of pleasure from you.

"Oh, just like that," he groaned, his voice a low, guttural growl as he felt your body responding to him. The tight, pulsing grip of your walls drove him closer to the edge, his movements becoming more erratic, more desperate. His arms wrapped around you, holding you against him as his body tensed, the muscles in his back tightening under your hands.

With a final, powerful thrust, he spilled into you, his release coming in deep, shuddering waves. His moan was raw, broken, his breath ragged against your neck as he emptied himself inside you. Each pulse of him inside you sent another ripple of pleasure through your body, your walls milking him for every last drop, the heat of him flooding your core.

Michael collapsed against you, his body heavy as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath still ragged and uneven. He was still moving inside you, slow, languid thrusts as he rode out the last waves of his release. The sensation was overwhelming, your body trembling beneath him, utterly spent.

You could feel his seed seeping out of you, mingling with your own, slicking the insides of your thighs and the rumpled sheets beneath you. The air in the room was thick with the scent of sweat, sex, and the aftermath of what you had just shared.

For a few long moments, the two of you just lay there, tangled together, the only sound the soft, heavy rhythm of your breathing. His heartbeat pounded against your chest, still racing, in sync with your own.

Slowly, Michael pulled out of you, his length slipping from your body with a wet, slick sound that left you trembling. He carefully lowered your leg from his shoulder, his hands trailing down your thigh, his touch soft, gentle in the aftermath. The cool air hit your skin, making you shiver, your body feeling strangely empty without him inside you.

He pressed a soft kiss to your hip, then your stomach, working his way up to your chest, leaving a trail of tender kisses in his wake. Finally, his lips found yours again, capturing you in a deep, lingering kiss. "I love you," he whispered against your mouth, his voice rough with emotion. "More than anything."

Your body was too exhausted to respond, but you smiled softly, your heart swelling with the warmth of his words. He eased off the bed, disappearing into the bathroom for a moment before returning with a warm, damp washcloth. Gently, he wiped away the sweat and the sticky mess of your shared release, his movements slow and careful, full of love and tenderness.

Once he was done, he discarded the cloth and slid back into bed beside you, pulling the covers over both of your bodies. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close, his chest pressed against your back, the warmth of his body soothing your trembling limbs.

His lips found your ear once more, brushing against your skin as his breath came in soft, warm waves. The simple, quiet intimacy of the moment felt profound as he whispered, "Hey."

You stirred in his arms, your body moving instinctively closer, seeking the comfort of his embrace. The bed felt like a sanctuary, the covers a cocoon around you both, holding you in this fragile moment. Your hand slipped out from beneath the blankets, your fingers trailing across his chest before coming up to his face. Your touch was gentle, delicate, as if you were tracing the very essence of him.

The room was bathed in a pale, silvery glow from the moonlight streaming through the window, casting soft shadows across his face. His strong features were softened by the light, the sharp lines of his jaw now gentle curves under your thumb as you traced the rough stubble there. His skin was warm, and you could feel the subtle tension in his muscles begin to relax as you caressed him.

"You mean it, right?" His voice was barely above a whisper now, the vulnerability in his tone raw and exposed in a way you didn't often hear. It trembled slightly, a hint of insecurity laced beneath the question. "You still love me?"

The weight of his words lingered in the air, fragile and heavy at the same time, like he was afraid of the answer despite knowing it deep in his heart. You nodded slowly, your fingers moving across his jaw, brushing lightly against the stubble that you loved so much. The texture beneath your fingertips grounded you in the moment, in the depth of your shared history.

"Always," you whispered, your voice quiet yet resolute, filled with all the love and assurance you could offer. The word hung between you, a promise as enduring as the years you'd spent together, filled with passion, struggle, and unwavering devotion.

A look of pure relief washed over his face, and his lips curved into a soft, almost shy smile that melted something deep inside of you. His dark eyes softened, the intensity in them easing as the tension that had been gripping his body finally released. He leaned in slowly, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours, his nose brushing against yours in a gentle, playful gesture that was so quintessentially him.

Then, he closed the distance between you, his lips pressing against yours in a kiss that was achingly tender. It wasn't a kiss of passion or heat but one of love—deep, abiding love that spoke of shared memories, of moments when words weren't enough, of the bond that had grown stronger through every trial. His lips moved against yours slowly, reverently, sealing the love you both carried for one another, a love that had withstood time and trials, unshaken.

When he pulled back, the soft smile remained on his face, but his eyes held a spark of playful curiosity. "Good," he murmured, his lips grazing yours as he nuzzled against you, the warmth of his body wrapping around you like a blanket. "Because I didn't want to lose you. I don't think I could handle that."

You smiled at him, the affection you felt bubbling up inside you, and pressed your forehead against his. The closeness between you felt magnetic, an unbreakable bond drawing you together. The warmth of his skin, the scent of him, the sound of his breath—it was all so familiar, so comforting. You could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat, beating in time with yours.

"You never will," you murmured softly, your voice a gentle promise that you both knew was true. Your fingers traced the shape of his lips before resting on his cheek, feeling the slight roughness of his stubble beneath your palm. "But, like I said, thank your mother. She was a big help in all this."

Michael let out a quiet chuckle, the sound rich and warm, and his smile grew. The tension that had been hanging between you seemed to melt away completely, replaced by a sense of peace and lightness. He leaned in even closer, his nose brushing yours again in a playful, teasing gesture.

"Yeah, I guess I owe her one," he replied, his voice still low, but filled with affection and gratitude.

Before you could say anything more, he closed the distance between you again, this time with a kiss that was deeper, more intentional. His lips moved against yours with a gentle firmness, conveying everything that words couldn't—the gratitude, the devotion, the love that had claimed you both so completely over the years. There was something timeless about the way he kissed you, like each kiss was a reaffirmation of what you had, of what you would continue to build together.

As he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet of the room. The love that tethered you both was palpable, an invisible thread woven through years of memories, trials, and triumphs. And in that moment, in the quiet darkness, you both knew that it was a love that would last—still strong, still meant to be.

[buckyarchives]

JUST LOVE ME?!

oh my god I haven’t posted something in forever, but I’ve recently gotten into Star Wars and hopefully will slowly start coming out with new stuff after reading every modern obi wan fic ever. I’m not too knowledgeable on the sw universe so sorry abt that, this also ended up a lot longer than I expected.

Obi-Wan Kenobi x fem!reader

You haven’t seen obi-wan in over a decade, since your marriage and the empire, your secret love affair seemed more than dead. maybe not?

1.7k words

The force wasn’t needed to know who sat a few bar stools away from you.

it’s just that gut feeling in your stomach when something bad will happen, everyone knows the one. It was just like this, but different, good. Having not felt these feelings in years, you recognized it immediately, welcoming it like an old friend. This must be what the force feels like.

You feel the ghost of intuition brushing against your shoulder, whipping your head straight to him. Even hunched over, face covered with a large cloak and only strands of sandy hair sticking out. You knew, you always know. There was always something about this man that held you captive, you would be able to recognize him blind, and with no other awareness, you’d still crawl back to him with zero hesitation. The stool underneath you creaked as you barreled toward him like a tank.

“Obi?” The name hasn’t left your lips since you were a young girl. You saw his shoulders tense, freezing. You spoke again, maybe just because you missed the feeling of his name rolling off your tongue. “Obi-wan, is that you?”

He turns and you want to gasp. Not because he looks a little scruffy and dirty from hiding from the empire, not because you are disappointed or disgusted. Honestly, the far, far opposite. You’ll never be able to forget the sheet blueness of his eyes, the vibrancy dulled in your memory but it all came rushing back like a broken floodgate. All the memories with them too and suddenly you feel you might faint. He’s older, much older. The wrinkles by his eyes are more prominent and he’s tanned, bringing out his freckles and… maker, he’s gorgeous.

Obi-Wans shoulders relax a little at the sight of you, but he’s still tense and full of so, so many emotions. His mouth gaped slightly and his eyes ran wilding over your frame, similar clothing to his as you’ve been hiding for a while. It’s strange, he thinks, seeing you in something other than brightly colored dresses and intricate hairstyles. Maybe he’s finally started to hallucinate. Softly, your name leaves his lips, “what happened, what are you doing here?”

A nasty, rundown bar on some far outer planet that a princess shouldn’t be seen in. Of course, his image of you would be frozen from that time 10 or so years ago, you want to scoff and mock him for his overprotecting nature. Is that appropriate? To fall back into that banter even after not seeing someone for over a decade after a horribly traumatic event? Who cares, you’ve never been good at reading the room, and Obi-Wan knows this.

“What? Think I can’t defend myself?” Smirking, your arms cross and you see the flash of surprise in his irises at your response, 

“No, just-“ he grimaces, and the words die in his throat, grabbing your forearm and pulling you close. It shocks you and you smell the sandalwood and citrus in him, he still smells the same and it makes you want to smile from ear to ear. “Never mind, but please, don’t use that name around close ears.”

Oh, you forget he’s probably at the top of The Most Wanted Jedi List that keeps floating around, you only bring a small diplomatic figure left you farther down on the list. Though you’re frequent outspoken nature probably left you higher than most princesses. 

Taking your seat next to Obi-wan, he’s just looking at you and desperately holding that serious look in his eyes that makes his eyebrows furrow slightly. He ever so slightly looks like he might cry, it almost breaks you if he didn’t show a small and almost relieved smile. Obi-wan can’t hold his emotions back anymore, not in front of you, especially after so long. 

“Maker, I thought you were dead.” Obi-wan sighs, surprising you with a sudden embrace. His arms wrap around you and it takes you no longer than a millisecond to grasp onto him. He feels the same against you, his hands look more tough and aged but still soft. Obi-wan pulls away, still looking deeply into you, shaking his head in embarrassment still wearing a smile. When’s the last time he’s actually smiled? “Sorry, princess. I just haven’t seen a friend in so long.”

You click your tongue, “Not a princess anymore, not even a queen nowadays.” 

Just as you see Obi-wan's face drop in surprise and confusion, the barkeep grumbles a quick, “Can I get you anything?”

Obi-wan tenses immediately and goes back to his usual (usual for the past 10 years, not your usual) stance. You glance at him once more and ask for a drink, Obi-wan stays quiet and reserved away, and the barkeep barely notices him. The blue-ish liquor practically appears in front of you and with it, the barkeeps disappear and Obi-wan starts in a hushed tone.

“Did the galactic empire come after your planet as well?” Worry laced his tone, still painfully aware this conversation could definitely get the two of you in deep trouble. Leaned in close to you with a hot, quiet whisper.

You sigh, bringing the drink to your lips before preparing your explanation. “Yes and no,” you sway your head from side to side, and you watch as Obi-Wan confusion grows more relevant. 

“My husband,” Obi-Wans face flashes with disgust at the mention of the man that halfway tore you away from him, you didn’t like him either, especially now. “He found out about my intentions to rebel against the empire, before I could even propose my plans to my board, he reported me and I fled.” 

You hear Obi-wan curse the man out under his breath, you smile at his hushed threats. You never liked the man, even before he had ratted you out and before you were forced to marry him for the crown. 

“I’m sorry that happened to you, sincerely.” Obi-Wan’s eyes pierce through you, you could melt. “How long? Have you been adjusting?”

“Last 6 years, my sneaky pilots' lesson as a princess paid off. I fixed up a small ship and I’ve been roaming around the outer planets looking… for anything.” With a beat of silence, your eyes meet and you can practically feel Obi-wan’s force presence course through you. It’s overwhelming and warms your chest, anxiety still fills your throat as you attempt to speak. Smiling, “Fortunately, I found you.”

“Fortunately,” Obi-wan repeats, still in a hushed tone. As if it’s been his permanent state of being all these years, it wouldn’t be surprising. “I’m not so sure.”

Your frown, “Why’s that?”

A pained sigh leaves him and with it all the years of sorrow and loneliness fall onto your shoulders, you feel his burdens. “I’m not the same man I was before, I’ve failed everyone and without the Jedi order, I’m unsure where I’m supposed to go now.” 

You reach out to him, you understand. Everyone’s lives changed for the worst after that day, you wished desperately to be there for Obi-wan and Padme before she passed but you had otherly planet duties (read: forced fleeing by the hands of your husband.) it’s been your deepest regret that you didn’t find a way out sooner and go to him. Obi-wan has always been the light that keeps you up and you being his rock, you should’ve been there. 

Should’ve you been there, then maybe this depressed and sorrow-filled man who wears his burdens heavy on his shoulder may seem not lovely. And no a broken shell of a man you missed.

“You haven’t failed me, Kenobi.” You whisper, leaning in a bit closer.  “When have you ever failed me?”

“When your poor excuse of a husband whisked you away against your will! And I could do nothing except stand there!” Obi-wan’s voice raised up, his grasp grips tightly at the counter edge.

Despite how faded your memory was of those years of your life, you wake at night remembering that day. Obi-wan’s face as he saw the ring and realized you were soon to be married. The cheeky glances in the halls came to an end and you would not stay on Coruscant anymore. Obi-wan might have been in love, but he wasn’t stupid then. He knew even when he was falling for you through walks in the garden and late-night talks over tea, he knew you weren’t his and you never could be. Even before arranged marriages, the Jedi order had been his only way of life, despite how much he desperately wanted to, he would not quit that life after all he’s worked for.

Gently, your gloved hand falls on top of his, wishing for more of the warmth and contact. “He’s not my husband anymore, I’m a free woman.”

Obi-wan wants to scoff at the thought of you being free, what a joke. But that wasn’t his fault, nothing he could do alone would have stopped the empire that day. Expect maybe be a better mentor.

A sudden tense feeling falls upon the two of you, silence as you realize something. All those restrictions, rules, and impossibilities. They were all gone, and now you were not sure what to do despite how obvious the answer was. Obi-wan’s breath catches in his breath, you practically choke on it.

“Obi,” you whisper just so he would barely hear, “do you think,” he turns to you and his eyes are so fucking blue, you almost back out. Hand still grasping onto his, maybe a little harder now as you brace yourself. “Do you think even in this situation, we could try again?”

On instinct, from installing into his brain for so many years to just stay at arm's length, “No, I cannot. The Jedi-“

“The Jedi order is dead.” You cut him off, “You know it, I know it.” You take a deep breath, “Just love me.”

To think you’d be confessing this in a grimy bar whilst running from Darth Vader was insane to you, never would you have thought. Obi-wan says your name again, a meer whisper and you are suddenly in your 20s again dancing around the idea of kissing him in the secluded places of the palace. You don’t need to do this silly dance anymore, you are a free woman.

“Please, obi-wan.”

The shackles of codes and order release, his shoulder fell relaxed, and maybe he would kiss you - if it weren’t for the scenery. No, no, Kenobi would do this right. 

“I have a place here, come back with me?” He offers a small smile, a real smile.

You just nod and Obi-wan places his hand firmly in yours and you leave together. Just like you should have done all those years ago.

[ave09]

back

han solo x reader

note: this has been sitting in my notes app for a hot min. i’m tryin to get the requests written but life’s been pretty chaotic lately but i promise, i’ll get them out soon 🫶🏻

“ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking, your getaway ship has arrived.” 

you’d been given the signal. jabba the hut had been defeated, luke, chewie and han would be free.

han.

i love you

i know.

the image of his frozen form haunted your thoughts, even months after the incident, and all you’d done was try and find a way to save him. but everyone had said all of your plans were too rushed, and shut down immediately. 

but the moment a plan was formulated, you backed out. luke wanted to place you in charge, but something happened, something shifted, you couldn’t be the one to free him from his carbonite chamber. 

you just couldn’t. you wanted too, and yet could not bring yourself to do so. 

which is why you opted to be the getaway driver. 

once you received the all clear from lando, you pulled up in the millennium falcon, landing a few feet away from the sarlacc pit. you glanced out the front window, and that’s when you saw him. 

you suddenly felt nervous. 

he looked exactly the same, although you doubted that he’d changed much in his frozen state. what would he think when he saw you? would he tell you how much he loved you? would he curse you for not freeing him sooner?

would he despise and loathe you for not being on the front lines? or would he kiss you endlessly, praising you for coming to his rescue?

with han, the possibilities were endless. 

you shook away your thoughts, watching as your loved ones rushed toward the falcon.  slowly, you rose from the pilots seat, moving towards the entrance hatch. you pressed your hand against the button to open it. sand flew everywhere, god how you hated that stuff. 

you lifted a hand up above your eyes, shielding your face from the sun.

and then you saw him, staring directly at you, a grin spreading across his face. he rushed forward, almost tripping in the process. seeing his movement, you rushed down the ramp, stumbling slightly as well as your boots hit the soft sand. before you knew it, he’d reached you, extending his arms, tackling you in an embrace, lifting you up off the ground, spinning you around causing a laugh to slip past your lips.

he then set you down, not hesitating to smash his lips against yours. god, it had been forever since you kissed him. you wished that this moment could last forever. before you could stop yourself, hot tears began to flow down your cheeks.

he pulled away, his smile faltering, “oh sweetheart,” he placed his large hands upon your cheeks, using his thumbs to brush away the tears, “don’t cry,” 

you smiled tearfully, “i’m just… i’m so happy you’re back.” you whispered.

he smiled at you, “well, i’m glad to be back, doll. and i’m not going anywhere, ever again.”

[centralperkchenford]

Not sure if you’ve ever written anything like this, but can you write a snippet about Tim reacting to the fact that Lucy and John used to hook up?

I hope you like this! 💖

Not sure if you’ve ever written anything like this, but can you write a snippet about Tim reacting to the fact that Lucy and John used to hook up?

It's always been you

“Timmmmm.” Lucy says loudly and then she giggles. “Timmmm guess what?” Tim turns to look at his girlfriend who is leaning on a table, he’s pretty sure it’s to hold herself up because she can’t not stand on her two feet right now. He’s not sure why they decided to come out on a random Tuesday night other than the fact that Bailey invited them and Lucy wanted to spend more time with their couple friends. Tim was perfectly happy spending time with Lucy at home, wrapped up in her on the couch but this was one time and it’s not like anything bad was going to happen.

“What baby?” He asks and puts his hand on her hip to steady her when she sways a little.

Lucy looks at him and her eyes are glazed over but sparkling as she leans up to press her lips to his ear.

“You have to guess baby.” She says slyly and then pulls back and pokes his chest hard. “Guess.” Tim gives a confused look which only makes her pout more.

“Please guess.” She begs him. Tim looks around and sees Bailey in the booth smiling in amusement. Nolan is somewhere in the bar, bathroom maybe Tim wasn’t really paying attention.

“I don’t know baby.” He says as he pulls her closer to him. His hand on her lower back. “You have to give me a hint.”

“Did you know I love you?” She asks. He smiles at her, his thumb making circles on her back. He did know that.

“I know you do.” He says softly. “I love you too Luce.”

She bounces on her toes. “I haven’t loved anyone the way I love you. Not my cheating ex, Emmett or Chris.” She pauses briefly her nose scrunched up in that adorable way Tim loves. “Or Nolan.”

Tim freezes as he looks at her but she’s staring intently at him not realizing what she just said. “What do you mean not Nolan?” Tim asks her.

“We used to date and I thought— well it doesn’t matter we broke up.” She says. “And now I’m dating you!” She gives him a brief kiss and skips over to sit by Bailey who looks more amused than anything.

Tim is frozen in his place as he tries to get the image of Lucy and Nolan out of his mind. He blinks a couple of times and then someone comes up next to him and when he turns to see who it is he takes a giant step back.

Nolan.

Fuck.

He’s going to kill him.

***

Nolan shifts uncomfortably in his seat as Tim glares at him. Lucy is tucked into his side and is chatting happily with Bailey. And it’s been like that for the last fifteen minutes, Tim hasn’t taken his eyes off of Nolan since they both sat down. And it’s not just a glare, it’s a full on I’m going to kill you glare.

Nolan usually isn’t good with reading people but Tim Bradford looks like he’s going to come to his house and strangle him.

Bailey is just laughing along with Lucy and not noticing he’s about to.. well die.

It’s not like he’s close to Tim, he had to hear Lucy complain about him and he’s worked with him a few times but.. Tim is a sergeant and he’s also a fierce protector of Lucy and her boyfriend. But Tim never really has had a problem with Nolan but now��

Nolan nudges Bailey who looks over at him curiously, he leans over to whisper in her ear. “Why does Tim look like he wants to kill me?” He asks quietly and to his dismay Bailey bursts out laughing causing Lucy to look over at them. Tim still has his eyes on Nolan.

Nolan looks at them all confused and Bailey grins at him. “Lucy let out a little secret.” She says. Nolan’s heart sinks a little because she wouldn’t but she was drunk and…

“He knows I dated Lucy.” Nolan deadpans and Bailey nods. Nolan sinks further into the seat with Tim’s eyes still on him.

Well shit.

***

Tim holds Lucy’s hand as they walk inside the house, she’s still a little drunk but she can at least walk on her feet without falling. Tim is quiet as he watches her walk inside and turn on the lights of the foyer.

“Do you need anything?” He asks and he hates how clipped his voice sounds. She nods and pulls him close and gives him a kiss.

“I love you.” She says and she sounds sleepy as she looks at him. He can’t help but smile a little bit and he kisses the top of her head.

“I love you too baby. Now let’s get to bed.” He leads her to the bedroom and she strips down while he goes to get some water and pain medication. She probably won’t remember her confession in the morning and Tim wishes he was her so he could forget it too. Why Nolan? What happened between them? How did he not see it?

Lucy lies down in bed and pats Tim’s spot next to her, “I need cuddles.” She says and Tim sighs and climbs into bed wrapping himself around her. He kisses her shoulder softly and hears her sigh and her breathing even out.

He would ask in the morning: why Nolan?

And maybe he wouldn’t have such a urge to kill him.

Tim wakes up to Lucy’s head on his chest and he has to blink a few times before he realizes she’s staring up at him.

“Good morning.” He says. She mumbles something into his skin before rolling off. “How do you feel?”

“Like a truck hit me.” She says. “Why did we go out on a Tuesday?” Tim laughs and kisses her temple before he’s running his fingers through her hair.

“Do you remember anything about last night?” He asks. She shakes her head, and turns to face him her fingers crawling up his chest.

“No.” She says “Why?”

Tim sighs and looks at her. “You told me a secret.” He says. Lucy furrows her brows at him.

“We don’t have a secrets.” She says. Tim can’t help but laugh a little.

“Well this one was in the Lucy vault.” He says. Lucy makes a face at him.

“What are you…”

“You told me you dated Nolan.” He says. Lucy freezes her eyes going wide and her face turning red.

“Oh god. Tim.. I didn’t..” She starts. “I’m sorry. Is that why Nolan was acting weird?” Tim shrugs and Lucy groans burying her face into his chest.

“Baby, please don’t kill him. It was a long time ago, and he and I are better as friends.” She says.

“I’m not going to…” He stops when Lucy gives him a pointed look. “Why Nolan?”

“We were friends and I thought we… I liked him okay.” She says. “But it was over before it started Tim. We were never going to work.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asks. Lucy sighs and kisses just above his heart.

“We weren’t as close back then Tim. You were my TO. And you probably would have disapproved.”

“Well I mean.. you deserved better than Nolan.” He says. “I mean he’s fine…but.” Lucy laughs and kisses him.

“It was along time ago Tim. He’s my friend now and that’s it.” She says.

Tim sighs and rests his chin on the top of her head. “Okay.” He says. “Can I still give him a hard time? I love how freaked out he gets.”

Lucy laughs and pokes him. “Fine but don’t scare him.”

***

Nolan sighs loudly as Tim stalks towards him. He’s been successfully avoiding him all day and he’s been proud of himself.

Until now..

“Nolan!” He barks and Nolan sighs and then he spots Lucy across the station with smile on her face.

“Sir.” Nolan says nervously. Tim approaches him and Nolan looks over his shoulder to see Lucy shaking her head.

“Nolan.” Tim deadpans. Nolan grimaces a little at his tone.

“Sir.” Nolan starts. “I’m sorry. It was a long time ago okay? I mean we dated and slept together and—”

He stops when he sees Tim’s face twist up. “Nolan just shut up.” Says Lucy coming up next to Tim. She pokes Tim’s shoulder hard, “And you need to stop torturing him.”

Tim rolls his eyes at her. Nolan looks between them, they both are looking at each other with soft smiles and Nolan can’t help but smile.

He’s glad that Lucy found someone who made her happy, they didn’t work out and that was okay because he was happy now with Bailey. And she was happy and he knew this was the way it was suppose to be.

“So Sergeant Bradford.” Says Nolan feeling brave. Tim looks away from Lucy to Nolan his eyebrows raised.

“Would you have still killed me if you had known back then?” Nolan asks.

Tim stares at him, his face twisting up again and Lucy tugs on him to start walking away. “Yes.” Tim says. “I would have and I may still kill you one of these days.”

Nolan sighs. Yeah he probably deserved that.

***

“Hey Tim?” Tim looks over to see Lucy peering at him intently from across the counter. She’s leaning on it with her elbows.

“Yeah?” He pauses what he’s doing to lean forward to meet her in the middle.

Lucy smiles at him. “It’s always been you.”

[ladybellissima]

Finding Love Katakuri x Reader Part 6

"Clean this mess up..", Katakuri hissed pissed towards some servants and left. Frustrated he thought about (Y/N) 's expression and sighed deeply. Again he scared the hell out of her. Again the distance between them got bigger. It was too difficult.

"(Y/N) was worried… "

Pudding' s words popped up in his mind and he couldn't believe it. She wanted to see him? Wanted to see if he was okay? No one ever cared if he was alright. He was the strongest child of the Charlottes. There was no space for weakness. Only his perfect behavior and strength was expected from him. His heart pained even more after realizing that he pushed her away. She was getting comfortable around him and he destroyed it, like he always did. Like he used to do, if things got difficult. Maybe it was really unbelievable to think that he had a chance. But he was so angry. So damn angry. Seeing this man touching her and her shocked expression. He couldn't hold himself back anymore. Growling annoyed, he headed towards his room to get changed.

In the meantime (Y/N) was sitting in front of Pudding, who put make up on her flustered face.

"You think that dress is okay? Isn't it too tight?", she asked uneasy and looked down to her black dress which was showing her curves and underlining her chest perfectly.

"It's absolutely gorgeous. And with this make up and hair style…", she started to turn (Y/N) torwards her mirror. "he will fall for you once again…", Pudding spoke lovingly and (Y/N) gasped of her image. Her hair was pulled up into a beautiful ponytail with locks and her make up was making her eyes sparkle.

"Wow… Pudding. I never looked so great, but what do you mean with once again? ", she stuttered embarrassed.

"Believe me. My big brother never showed so much emotions. He usual is calm and how to describe it… Like a stone. Since he has you by his side, speaking with him is much easier. I know unbelievable right? You have a great impact on him and I can see it in his eyes. He always looks after you. ", she spoke, while sighing dreamingly.

" Re.. Really? Honestly I didn't notice that… ", (Y/N) spoke surprised and gave her reflection one last glance.

"…her words let my heart flutter… ", she smiled and for the first time she hoped to impress a man with her outfit.

The tea party started and Big mom was already sitting before her desserts, ready to eat them all. This party was a special one. Normally celebrated really extravagant, this time it was smaller and only Charlottes were invited. Looking from one child to another she stopped at Katakuri.

" where is your wife? "

Katakuri wasn't sure, if she would really dare to skip this party. Even if she was with Pudding and he shouted at her. No one skips Big Mom's parties. He hated this nervous feeling in his chest. He hated it to get worried about her all the time. Hell she was on his mind 24 hours a day. "She is with Pudding. They will come soon.", he spoke and got this feeling that something was up. Before he could take a glimpse of the future, the door opened and Pudding stepped inside.

"I am sorry Mama I needed time to get ready.", Pudding spoke and Katakuri's eyes went wide after (Y/N) stepped into the dining room. Shocked, his gaze wandered from head to toe. She was absolutely stunning. Shyly she locked eyes with Katakuri, who tried to stay frozen like he used to.

" Ahhh….we waited for you two…"

(Y/N) nodded and walked along the table to get her seat next to Katakuri. She avoided looking up to him. He would sure just look angry at her. The other siblings noticed the emotionless behavior of Katakuri  towards his wife and felt pity for her. He was so good at hiding his feelings, they even didn't recognize his blushing face after feeling her presence next to his.

" God Big brother. She looks so beautiful and you say nothing? If you don't do it. I will.", Oven nudged his brother's arm and gave him a glare to do something. Katakuri just opened his eyes and looked to his brother, who quickly looked away pale as a ghost. Sighing annoyed he looked down to his wife, who let his heart flutter with every move she did. How should he make her a compliment, while his family was staring?

"You are late…", he spoke in his usual demanding voice and got her attention, while the others rolled their eyes of their hopeless brother. He expect many things from sad to angry, but his wife slowly looked up to him with this sparkling eyes he loved so much and with a short "I know, I am sorry.." she gave him a big smile, which let the others get speechless.

"I am more and more sure that he doesn't deserve her.", Oven whispered stunned.

"God Oven shut up.", Brulee grumbled  annoyed.

"(Y/N) did you have a good time with my daughter Pudding? ", Big mom interrupted and gave Pudding, who was sitting next to her, an evil grin. All eyes were on her. Something she wanted to avoid at all cost.

"Yes mama. Your beautiful daughter Pudding was so kind to show me your castle.", (Y/N) answered nervously. Big mom laughed out loud amused and grabbed some cake.

"She beautiful? I would say it's okay. Thank God she is having this haircut.", Big mom joked amused and could see that (Y/N) didn't know. Pudding looked down sadly and made (Y/N) more confused.

"I don't understand Mama…", (Y/N) asked and Katakuri wanted to cut in, but his mother's laugh echoed through the hall loudly.

"I knew that she wouldn't show you.", she laughed and quickly lifted Puddings hair to relieve her third eye. Knowing how their mother could be, the others tried to stay silent and endure their mother's act.

"I still don't understand. I see a beautiful woman sitting next to you.", (Y/N) spoke seriously and let Pudding gasp of surprise. Quickly hiding her eye again, she thanked (Y/N), while slowly tears rolled down her face.

Even Katakuri was surprised that (Y/N) accepted her odd look without any irritation. On the other hand he felt his blood boil. Was she insane? Speaking against Mama was like running into a knife. Silently Big Mom gave Katakuri's wife an amused look. The others got nervous what was about to happen.

"I see. The taste of people are quite different, like the look they have on things.", she spoke and laughed again. Sighing in relief (Y/N) was happy to get over this heated moment. She knew that she played with fire. But never would she lie and make Pudding sad.

Katakuri's self control weakens and his aura was felt by the others. He knew all too well that his mother wouldn't let that stay this way. Sighing deeply to have such a troublemaker as wife, he knew that he was going to have a hard time to calm his mother's nerves later. But he would do it to keep her safe. And as her husband he was responsible for her.

"Back to business… in a few days Pudding will marry someone from the Vinsmokes. I want you to be on guard that everything goes smoothly. Katakuri I want you to stay by my side and have a good look on our guests to make sure there are no troubles. You will all take your weapons with you and hide them close by, because we will make sure that this wedding will be the last thing they see.", Big mom announced happily and stuffed her face with cakes, while the others nodded understandable. Only (Y/N) found the whole thing confusing, but wouldn't dare to ask any further.

The party went on, without any troubles. Most of the time (Y/N) watched the liquid of her green tea or tried a new dessert in silence. Katakuri wasn't moving an inch. Eyes closed he endured the party, but once in awhile he had to catch a short glimpse of her to be sure she was there by his side. The others found that quite amusing. Looking up to him (Y/N) noticed him staring and gave him a short smile. Embarrassed Katakuri looked quickly back up and did like nothing happened. "I think he likes my outfit…", she thought hopefully and felt a little better.

Brulee and the others started to leave and say their goodbyes to (Y/N). She had to admit that she got more comfortable with his family. Even if they looked scary with their weapons and armor.

"We will leave as well.", Katakuri spoke shortly and was about to get up, but big mom had other plans.

"My sweet (Y/N) I have something to discuss with you. ", Big mom spoke out of the blue. Nervous (Y/N) nodded and waited for her to go on. The others knew right away that (Y/N) was in trouble.

"How do you want to apologize for your behavior? Or does my son have to pay for letting that happen?", she spoke playfully and licked on an ice cream corn. Shocked (Y/N)'s look fell onto Katakuri who didn't show any reaction. She never would have thought that her words were disrespectful.

"I would also accept if he punishes you. As your husband he has the right to do so.", she added and looked into her shocked expression amused.

"Oh no. Are you scared now? Don't you dare to think of running away. You should quickly learn your place. You aren't allowed to go home ever again. Maybe I should tell Katakuri to get rid of you…i don't allow that you disgrace his reputation. As his wife you aren't allowed to speak against me. Ever. Soooo….. What to do with you…. What makes my anger towards you vanish", her evil look showed no mercy.

Just for saying the truth she had to pay with her life ?

And most of all, would he do that? Would he really hurt her and get rid of her?

They just started to speak with each other and honestly after he shouted at her, she wasn't sure anymore of what to think about him.

"(Y/N) is my wife and I am not going to change that. I take full responsibility, if she offended you Mama.", Katakuri stepped before her, while the others were gasping of his actions. (Y/N) felt tears in her eyes. She couldn't believe that he really wanted her to stay as his wife and also took her punishment. In a way she felt ashamed that she maybe was really disgracing his reputation.

" Hahahahha how loyal and brave my son. I didn't expect anything different. If you want her by your side so be it, but learn her some manners. She is your toy to play with.", Big mom spoke those hurtful words with a smile. Katakuri let everything happen. He just hoped that this would satisfy his mother and they could leave.

" But still I am not satisfied. What could your wife offer me that she is worth of staying under my protection?"

The room fell silent. Katakuri's heart was racing and he balled his fists. He would do anything for his mother, but he wanted to keep (Y/N) safe. His loyalty for his family was always his top priority, but since he made a vow and became a husband, he wanted and had to protect his wife too. The woman he fell deeply. For the first time he felt clueless of what to do. What could he offer to make her calm down?

"Mama would you be satisfied, if I bake you my special doughnuts?", (Y/N) asked and stunned everyone in the room. "(Y/N) stay behind me and keep quiet.", Katakuri ordered coldly and stressed.

"What makes your doughnuts so unresistable my dear?"

She couldn't hide anymore. She decided to take her life in her own hands and wanted to stand up for her mistakes. "I have special recipes from books and my home, which gave them an extra sweet taste. I will let you taste them Mama. Will you accept my apology? "

Smiling from ear to ear she laughed out loud. "Great great great. How could I deny that my sweet cupcake. We have a deal. In the meantime I eat some of mine now.", she looked for the doughnuts, but they were gone.

"Oh no… Ananana ate them! Where are the cooks?!", Brulee rushed out of the dining hall to get them.

"Doughnuuuuuts!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Shocked of the loud scream, (Y/N) 's body froze in the spot. Big mom punched the walls around her, while screaming for her desserts.

"Get the kids out of here. She is going berserk again!!!", Oven yelled and grabbed Ananana who laughed happily about this show.

Quickly Katakuri took (Y/N) bridal style and jumped through the broken walls to get out. Grabbing his vest for support, (Y/N) hid her face in his chest.  She could hear the screaming townspeople, who were running like crazy, while Big mom reached the busy streets of sweet city and growled like a monster. Never had she seen something such terrifying. Katakuri stopped at the other side of town and let his wife down.

"Stay here in safety and wait for me.", he spoke strained and rushed to his siblings to get their mother under control. Watching the scene from the distance, (Y/N) felt miserable. She was the cause of this disaster. Everything she did today ended in a disaster. Her look fell onto a small bakery and it was like her body moved on its own. She couldn't stand the thought of doing nothing. She wanted to help them. Help him. Quickly reaching the kitchen, she asked the owner to let her bake something.

"Miss (Y/N) sure. But please don't get yourself in danger.", he hurried outside to leave the town for safety.

Quickly she started to bake doughnuts. Skilled her hands flew across the table and used any ingredients she could find and put her creation into the oven. It felt unbearable to wait for the dough to bake. The shouting still lingering in the air, she finally got a basket full. Rushing out of the shop, she looked around and found them fighting close by. Running like crazy she got to Oven's side, who was shouting at Brulee.

"How could you drop them next to Mama. With every minute she gets stronger and destroys everything."

"I know damn it!! It was an accident. The doughnuts slipped out of my hands!"

Quickly she stepped to Brulee, who got eyes like saucers of seeing her here.

"(Y/N)!? Why are you here! Get out of here! You will get crushed!", she shouted, but fell silent after seeing the basket of doughnuts.

" (Y/N)!? What the fuck are you doing here. Go damn it!", Katakuri lost his temper before everyone, who were shocked to see their brother like that.

" Please take them! I am so sorry… ", her voice broke and tears rolled down her face. Ignoring his raging brother, Oven took the basket and rushed to his mother's side.

" Step aside!! ", he shouted and Katakuri jumped away, while Oven threw the basket into her mouth. Stopping immediately Big mom sat down, munching with a delighted moan.

"Soooooooo goooood……", she rubbed her stomach and got up like nothing happened.

"Who made these incredible doughnuts!?.", she asked happily. "These are from (Y/N) Mama.", Oven told her, while Katakuri's eyes widened. Turning around he found his wife by Brulee's side crying silently. "How wonderful!!! Tell her to make me some more.", Big mom sang and got up to go home.

"That was rough, but nobody got hurt..", Oven spoke relieved, but fell silent after seeing his brother. Pissed was an understatement.

"Oh dear…", Oven whispered, while watching Katakuri walking towards his wife, cold and threatening like a monster. (Y/N) knew she was screwed now. His look alone was enough to make her a shaken mess.

"We will go now. Take care of the rest.", he spoke coldly towards Brulee, who didn't know if she really should leave (Y/N) with his brother. "he won't hurt you. Never would my brother do that.. He cares for you, never forget that… But (Y/N) whatever happens…. Stay strong and maybe.. You can forgive him", she whispered and (Y/N) knew that she had to expect worse, because Brulee wasn't sure either.

"I.. I will do my best…", (Y/N) spoke helplessly.

"We go now!!!", Katakuri growled angered, which let Brulee step back quickly, while his wife rushed to his side to catch up with him.

"Please Big brother…. Think before you speak…", Brulee sighed deeply and already knew that he would mess up badly. The only time she saw her brother like that was as they were children. Since then he kept his feelings for himself. Seeing him like that was really out of character for him.

Hopefully (Y/N) was strong enough to endure.

[saey707]

Kinktober Day 1 {Viego}

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Spooky Prompt: Masturbation Champion Focus: Pentakill! Viego (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ) Female reader 🎃 Warning: NSFW

Author's Note: Kinktober commences! {¬º-°}¬ I am a day behind because I contemplated participating in a challenge this month, but here we are! Also, my kinktober posts will have this layout because it is a special event. I wanted to differentiate how it looks from my normal posts. Enjoy, my little freaks (o ｀▽´ )oΨ PS: All pics are mine above. I took them during the Pentakill Concert!

Your boyfriend was a great musician. With that, you know there would be a point where you would have to endure being away from him for an extended amount of time.

However, with Viego as your boyfriend, it becomes more of an extent where he'll have to endure being away from you.

His head was resting atop his arms, and the most he could do was stare at your pretty, little image on his laptop screen. Your own laptop rested on the bed before you, and you enlarged the screen so you can see your handsome boyfriend in all of his pixilated details.

His head was resting atop his arms, and the most he could do was stare at your pretty, little image on his laptop screen. Your own laptop rested on the bed before you, and you enlarged the screen so you can see your handsome boyfriend in all of his pixilated details.

His head was resting atop his arms, and the most he could do was stare at your pretty, little image on his laptop screen. Your own laptop rested on the bed before you, and you enlarged the screen so you can see your handsome boyfriend in all of his pixilated details.

"I told you Viego. I have to get back to finding work. Besides, someone needs to be watching over the house while you're gone." You snickered, "I mean, who knows what crazy fans will try to steal your shit. You're a big deal now, baby." Huffing, Viego blew a lock of hair out of his face, forcing himself to sit up now.

"So what... None of that matters! You're killing me by not being here, mi corazón! I can't bear being away from you this long!"

Melodramatically, your boyfriend raised the back of his hand to his forehead, falling back in his chair.

You blew a playful smooch to Viego, the musician groaning and lulling his head back, "Now you're just being cruel..." His voice barely registered through his shitty webcam. But you heard him well and clear. And you couldn’t help but feel empathetic to Viego’s suffering.

"Oh yeah, well how about I make it up to you then, baby~?" You suggested.

Reeling his head back up, Viego gaped at you. When you didn’t offer any other words, he raised his brows. You knew he was expecting you to say something, urging you to continue.

But there was nothing more telling than the way you slowly pushed your laptop back with your foot, your back falling against your pillow with a gentle thud and rock of your laptop. Viego took in the gorgeous sight. He sunk into his seat.

How he wished he was with you right now so he could give your plump thighs a delightful squeeze…

As if you read his mind, your hands trailed to your thighs, leaving Viego frozen with a beautiful, red glow on his cheeks. You had him wrapped around your finger. And he loved every minute of this.

Giving your bare thighs a squeeze, Viego bit his bottom lip when you pressed your head back against the headboard with a cute hum.

"Ah...~ I realllyyy miss you, Viego..."

You were really killing Viego now. He felt like his heart was going to explode out of his chest. “I miss you too, princess…”

He swallowed hard, instinctively trailing a hand to the rim of his tight, black pants. He had just got back to his hotel room from a concert and didn't even bother to change. Viego never did. He always prioritized video chatting with you straight after a concert.

You opened your legs, giving the musician a clear view of what he’s been missing out on. He licked his lips, leaning forward, his chest pressed against the desk. Fuck… He cursed under his breath.

Viego greedily watched as your fingers lapped against the thin fabric covering your pussy.

Just hearing him call you princess was enough to make you sopping wet, your breath caught in the back of your throat as you pleasured yourself. “You look so beautiful, mi corazón~” He edged you on with that sexy, low tone you loved, causing a wonderfully lewd noise to pull from the back of your throat. Viego’s never heard you make that noise before…

The longer Viego stared, the hastier he grew. His breath shuttered silently, admiring how your fingers made slow, circular motions and rubbed up and down over your pussy. It’s like you were asking for him to fuck you senseless as soon as he got home in a few days!

He unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, quick to release his cock with his hand. “Fuck, princess…”

Viego abused his own dick in perfect unison with your own movements, biting down on his bottom lip as he hunched forward. One hand was gripping the edge of the desk, a sloppy string of curse words a melody trailing to your wanting ears.

“Ahh~ Viego… ♡ Ahh~! ♡”

You hooked the edge of your panties with your free hand, spreading your legs wider, “Let me see you, Viego… I want to see daddy’s big cock~! ♡”

Your boyfriend wasted no time in readjusting his webcam for you, pointing it lower so his head was out of frame. All you can see was a hint of his red locks and his slutty, toned waist until he perfectly captured his dick.

“Look what you did to me, princess~” He pumped his cock until precum began to slick over his hand. You felt a rush of heat wash over you, loud, prolonged mewls following as you pushed your panties to the side. Your heart was beating fast and Viego picked up speed seeing your exposed clit.

Everything felt like it was moving a million miles an hour.

Your fingers brushed over your folds before you inserted two fingers, sliding them in and out. He was sent into overdrive. His wanting hand picked up its desperate pace until he was huffing for breath.

"Oh, (Y/N)... Agh... Fuck, reinita... Qué linda~" His accent drove you over the edge, and you could tell he was smirking. A high-pitched moan followed his praise as your fingers curled inside your pussy.

Your moans intertwined with Viego’s until you were slicked over with sweat, clothes leaving a prickling sensation against your skin. Your hair clung to the sides of your face. You felt uncomfortable. You felt sticky.

But you didn't care.

"Ah, my love~!!" You can tell Viego was about to snap. You knew your boyfriend well enough to know when he was at his limit.

But with half-lidded eyes, you drew out your little game.

You breathed out enough sound to pull him from his self-abuse, and inevitably, elicit a string of Spanish cursing from the overstimulated musician that was ready to reach his climax: "Wait until I come first, babe~"

Like a good boyfriend, he abides by your demands. You were his queen, which made playing peasant boy until you were satisfied alright with him.

Viego knew full and well that when he gets home from this tour of torment he'll have all the time in the world to conquer your heart!

[s-e-v-e-n-24]

you’re so real about new york by the way . this man is well aware he is like . fucked up in the head. (but they all are, really ) but he’s not going to do anything about it! no one else is going to do anything about it! so they all just gotta live w it

Ohhhhhh my god, oh my god wait wait wait wait I have SONGS and HEADCANNONS for him hold on

I am using this ask as an excuse to dump all of it here

(TW, Unhealthy coping mechanisms, mentions of eating disorder, immortal "I can't die so what's the point" Crisis, drinking, drug use)

New York is a very touristy place, as well as having Broadway, and being a very fashion design/Model place (New York fashion week)

He is used to attention. He can thrive on it when it needs him. He can and will push his body to the limits for it just to be good enough. No matter the cost

New York is a very private person. He hates being asked things, he hates too much attention. Both of these are true, and he hates that too. He wants to be left alone and to get rid of the tourists, to be seem as more then a city, he hates the way he gets for a performance or s gig, and yet he will do it anyways, half feeling sick for it, half loving it in a messed up way. A comfort in something that hurts, really

And the ways that he pushes his limits, this can be not sleeping,not doing anything but practicing or working, not eating, basically just not functioning like a human being. Modeling, if he were to do it, notoriously hates most bodies and has given many models eating disorders

He's got anger issues. He's NE, it's practically a requirement. He takes this out by pacing and ranting, maybe blowing off some steam with a punching bag, sure, but that wouldn't stop him from maybe getting drunk, purposely picking fights just for the thrill, the need to blow off his anger, and the feel of it. He us violent at tines and hates it and can't brinv himself to stop. He might sit there with his bruises and his aches because yeah, he probably does deserve it And why bother Mass or anyone else about it when he's just going to get a lecture not to do it again, only for him to do it again

(Side note: Headcannon Mass, if hospital is not needed, patches up NE and other states. Great for rivalry hijinks, better for Mass/York and MA/NY/NJ hijinks yes I have fics planned for it)

There's also the matter of relationships. He looks like commitment issues. He looks like emotional issues like he won't open up and trying will send him into a panic. He looks like he hasn't cried infront of anyone in decades and isn't about to start now, and like someone so highly paranoid, but it's only seen after as he covers it. He looks like deep-seated abandonment and attachment issues that will never get properly addressed and only brought out in a careful, tender conversation that leads to tears he will hide.

Sure he has flings with Florida in the winter. Sure he flirts with Cali or Jersey or Mass or whoever. Commitment? No. Will leave at the first sign of himself getting attached, keep everyone at arms length with insults and biting words. Keep them guessing if he is friend or foe

He is both scared of death, despite the fact he'd resurrect (Headcannon), and doesn't care for it, as he'd resurrect. He's immortal, what's the difference to what he does to his body. It won't kill him, not for long

Honestly he's probably had drugs/Drinking/Smoking problems, probably still does. Probably has both image issues and loves his looks, mostly

He sits on his bed, knees to his chest, frozen. He doesn't count his deaths, because half of them he can't remember, whether his mind blocking it or his state at the time,he does not know. But he remembers the ones he can. Sometimes he wonders what it would be like to die permanently. Or if he'd ever get the chance. He does not cry. There's nothing left in him to cry over.

And he knows on some level, all of this is wrong. He could be doing better, he should listen but he is still New York, despite it all, and New York is a stubborn, stubborn man. He does not do and he is told, and lives through spite. He does not admit defeat. Or that he was wrong, no he's content to suffer in the mess of his making. You cannot help someone who won't help themselves, and he is not quite there yet

I dunno if that makes sense, I'm not re-reading it

Songs!

The Other Side Of Paradise by Glass Animals

The Only Heartbreaker by Mitski

Brand New City by Mitski

Real Man by Mitski

Hungover in the City of Dust

Tongues & Teeth by The Crane Wives

CORALINE by Måneskin

SUPERMODEL by Måneskin

A Scale, A Mirror, And Those Indifferent Clocks by Bright Eyes

Recktify by Rainbow Kitten Suprise

No Vacancy by Rainbow Kitten Suprise

Farewell Wandererlust by The Amazing Devil

[everthewip]

Prompt number: 4. "Do you even know what this means?"

Original fiction: Risha & Nimue

Rating: T (could be G but idk)

Warnings: No real warnings, i don't think, just an embarrassed orc lesbian and elf boobs (it's not nsfw tho)

Other notes: Continuation of THIS (also not edited, not revised, when this event is over I'll go back and make all of this better)

*

They kept her in a locked room near the back of the temple, far from any exits or curious eyes. High Priest Baylen drew a key from his pocket and slid into into the lock, allowing himself and those with him entry without the courtesy of a knock. The door opened into a small room, bare of windows, and with but humble bed and wardrobe. It had the look of a cheap inn room, not the permanent home of a blessed Priestess in a temple devoted to light and freedom.

Two women had been in the process of filling a tub with steaming water, but the sudden entry had them frozen in place, buckets in hand. The Priestess they had come to see, however, was seated on the edge of her bed, dressed in a simple blue robe that overlapped at her front and tied closed at her waist. With a swift grace, she rose to greet them.

She was lovely and this was the first thing that Risha noticed. Though lacking in Risha's own musculature and height, the woman held herself with such proud poise that she appeared almost taller. Freckles dusted across fair skin, light brown hair fell in a neat stream down her back, and pointed ears marked her as a half-elf; a half-breed like Risha. Soft lips settled into a frown as blue eyes studied Risha with a polite emptiness. The half-orc was not one to care for how she appeared to others, but before this Priestess she found herself feeling unusually inadequate.

“Priestess Nimue,” the High Priest addressed, and in response she bowed her head. “This is Risha, your guide and guard to Old Helmstead.”

Again, those clear eyes looked Risha over, but if she saw promise or disappointment, the half-orc could not determine.

Nimue said not a word, but her gaze did shift back to the High Priest. Risha exhaled a soft breath she had not intended to hold and, silently, reprimanded herself. Perhaps it was simply the fact that this woman was, apparently, blessed by a Goddess who had been asleep and silent for centuries that made Risha so unsettled before her.

“Will you do us the honor,” the High Priest was saying. “Of showing us the Lady of Light's mark?”

Nimue offered a nod. Risha's eyes fell to her fingers, following them as they rose to loosen the drawstring of her robe. With little more than a tint of a blush, the half-elf lowered the sleeves, parting and exposing her bare chest and stomach for those present. And, while Risha was not one to overlook nor under-appreciate a pair of exposed breasts, she hardly noticed them compared to the Goddess' mark.

It was almost wicked the way it marred Nimue's skin. A curve stretched across the tops of her breasts, with a circle nestled between them. Below that, lines twisted together like vines, forming a stem that moved down her torso until they parted at her belly button, curving down to frame it. Stretching from the stem were more lines, three on each side, that reached up and moved over her breasts. Attached to these were shapes that resembled small leaves.

Risha had seen the emblem of the Goddess her entire life, but never had she witnessed it burned into someone's skin.

For truly that was how it appeared. The mark on Nimue looked as if someone had taken a metal quill doused in fire and drawn the image onto her skin, turning a beautiful symbol into a hideous scar.

“May I speak with my guard alone?” the Priestess asked, speaking for the first time since they had entered. Beside Risha the High Priest began to protest, but a light touch from the elder woman kept him quiet. With a bow of his head, the man motioned for all attendants to depart, and – with great reluctance – left the half-orc alone with the half-elf.

She heard the key turn in the lock, trapping them together.

As soon as they were truly alone, Nimue let her robe drop to a puddle of blue cloth at her feet. Risha turned her head, finding a spot in the corner of the room to stare at rather than the Priestess' nude body, but she was soon spared from the awkwardness as Nimue settled down into her bath. There was a pained hiss as the hot water enveloped her, but still, Risha kept her gaze averted.

“Your name is Risha?” Nimue asked once she was comfortable.

“It is, Priestess.”

“I have heard of you, the Temple Soldier… You alone will be my guide and guard?”

Risha fought to not look at the bathing woman as she gave a nod. “As far as I am aware, to avoid suspicion on the road.”

“And you agreed to this willingly?”

There was a moment's pause before she answered, uncertain whether this Priestess knew of her debt and the promise of forgiveness. She had agreed to it, but it was hardly a choice.

“I have.”

“Do you even know what this means?”

There was no edge to her tone, no remnant of the High Priest's own prejudice. But still, the question pricked at Risha's pride, just a little. Without meaning to, she turned to meet the half-elf's eyes, her posture rigid.

“Of course I do, I am no brainless oaf regardless of what most think.”

Nimue tilted her head at Risha's shift in demeanor before she seemed to understand. Her chin dipped down, eyes watching the water.

“I did not mean to imply that you were,” she said, apologetic. “I only ask because… well, this will not be an easy endeavor for either of us and had I any choice, I would not take part in it.”

Risha's shoulders relaxed and she shifted awkwardly in place, her armor groaning from the movement.

“I have bound myself to keep you safe.” She waited for Nimue to look up again before continuing; hoping beyond hope that the half-elf did not know of her past. “And I will not insult my own honor by breaking this vow.”

For the first time since Risha entered the Priestess' room, the corner of Nimue's lips twitched into a smile; faint, but present all the same.

“You have my thanks, Risha. I would say you can leave, but unless High Priest Baylen is waiting and listening at the door, I fear you are locked in here with me.”

“A good enough excuse to begin my duties,” she replied, turning to face the door and offer her newest charge some privacy.

[sweetestlamb]

Objection

Author's note: *puts fic down and runs away*

Loving her never felt real, and it had less to do with their contract or her chosen career and everything to do with his inability to open his heart up again. He loved her all five years, through every dinner and every silent conversation held solely with eyes and the sounds of cutlery ringing in his ears. But he couldn't admit it to either of them. Especially himself.

He never imagined what her lips would feel like because her smiles felt like miracles enough. He decided to accept the crumbs she sprinkled in front of him and released her when she requested. Holding on never worked, those who were meant to leave you would always find a way.

And he was certain she was destined to leave. She was too good and he was too broken, and utterly undeserving of love.

But none of that prevents him from grabbing her and shocking them both as their lips finally collide in a devastating furious crash that he has yearned for, possibly every moment of his life. Those lips have haunted him too long, filling his dreams and awakened desires he thought had long perished with heartbreak. But as she pushes back into him, always so brave, he feels nothing but pure admiration swelling his heart until it aches.

His heart thunders in his own ears, drowning out even the pouring rain that barrels down onto his car. Time stands still as they kiss, her mouth wet and soft under his own. She's so sweet he never wants to stop.

HAWNK!

He hurts himself as his head slams back into his seat, the blare of the car horn startling him but not nearly as much as the sight that greets him as he opens his eyes.

"Sang Eun?"

His throat is sandpaper scratching on steel. She shudders at his confused whisper and he pauses in awe before remembering that she's crawling into his lap and that image is breaking his mind, she wriggles in between him and the wheel carving out a space just for herself.

"Don't say anything unless it's about your undying love for me or how light I feel in your lap."

A smile cracks across his face and she clasps his face in between her hands immediately, as if capturing the motion.

"You can even smile like this. If you did this at work you wouldn't have anymore problems at all. You wouldn't need me anymore."

His hands tighten on her slim hips, he has no recollection of placing them there but he loathes to release the shapely curves now, so he doesn't.

"No. I need you. I'll always need you."

Making her blush feels like magic. That face is even prettier red and flushed because of him.

"Who are you?" She asks squinting at him with an adorable suspicious gaze, "Where's my Jiho? Who is this in his place?"

He nuzzles into her warm hold, letting her scent and her pleasant weight ground him and the feelings of anxiety that have started to make his skin prickle.

"I'm right here. I'm yours."

He allows his eyes to slide shut and then instantly regrets it as he hears a beautiful gasp, barely audible under the continuing pour of treacherous rain.

"I'm sorry you had to see that you know? I don't want to kiss anyone but you."

He's still angry. But not at her. Never her.

"It wasn't your fault. But it hurt to see. I wanted to disappear. I thought I lost you before I got a chance to tell you that my life would be miserable without you."

"You....no one has ever made me so angry before."

He believes her. Even understands her. He wanted to scream at her and demand answers earlier, he's never felt so out of control.

"But nobody has ever made my heart pound like this either. You.....scare me."

He almost laughs. It's absurd to think that she would say this to him, he's not the one that melted a frozen tattered heart the was never meant to beat again. He was ready to die alone and then she crashed into his life and breathed new life into a dying heart.

"You have the woman you love on your lap and you're not doing anything? Perhaps I should just mo-"

His fingers sink deeper into that plush flesh and he readily swallows the sound she makes as he tugs her forward hard without warning, eagerly pushing his tongue between her soft lips to get his first taste of her without alcohol hindering his way.

Intoxicating.

He never needs to indulge again.

He whimpers at her rough treatment of his hair, forcing his hips to remain immobile as she twists and undulates onto him. She's a force, devouring him as if starved thrusting her body against his own, her chest pressed intimately against his own.

He pants, breaking their lip lock in an attempt to slow down the pace.

But she cranes her head and latches onto his neck whilst grinding down onto him and he's only human, his body responds tremendously. Arousal washes over him like a tidal wave and grabs her to lift her away from his... problem.

Too embarrassed to look at her, he speaks into her clavicle.

"I...you....I'm sorry. I didn't mean..."

To get so turned on and stab you with my erection.

But those words never leave his mouth.

"Well I did, mean. I've never..felt......before. You're my first again. It feels..... proportional."

He blinks slowly, breathing hard both from his overwhelming arousal and having to hold her oh so close hovering above his groin.

"Huh? What?" He finally lifts his head and her smile is dangerous, devious and gorgeous. He never wants to look at anything else again.

"You're very......big."

He blinks again. Blood fighting between flooding his cheeks and.....other places.

"I meant your height. Your mind is in the gutters, Jiho." She looks at him, her ass fitting too perfectly in his hand.

He nearly apologizes before he sees that slight curve at the tail end of her smile.

He stares at her, assessing carefully before suddenly releasing her right onto his waiting excitement.

He could play her game. Even if he lost, he was still a winner.

They both gasped, breath mingling between them eventually starting to fog up the windows.

She giggles lightly, staring at him like an exotic creature slowly wrapping her arms around his shoulders, leaving no space between them.

"Yeah. You're mine now. I won't let anyone take you away. My Jiho."

He doesn't argue. He has no objections.

"Sang Eun....we shouldn't continue this in a car. It's indecent exposure. I'll take you to my bed."

Well almost no objections.

[rosella-writes]

Just gonna keep coming for Sten & f!Mahariel. Would love to see "whispering to each other" from the intimate moments prompts :3

Thank you Niri!! For @dadrunkwriting Pairing: Queerplatonic (???? idk) Sten & Rhiannon Mahariel

~~~

"Sten," Rhiannon whispered. It carried further than she meant it to, cutting across the open air like scraping steel, and she winced. "Sten, are you still awake?"

There was a low grunt, then the sound of a shifting body. The crackling campfire almost muffled him entirely. "I am indeed, Grey Warden," he grumbled at full volume. "What do you want?"

"Hush!" she hissed.

She got up from her place keeping watch at the edge of camp and tiptoed over, careful to navigate between the sleeping forms of Alistair and Egg, the fearless mabari, by the fire. She dropped to the ground and crossed her legs beside Sten's massive body. She hid the little totem she'd found between her hands — its cool, carved surface soon warmed to the temperature of her skin.

Sten merely watched her, his face placid in the way she'd once interpreted as being angry. He'd undone his braids, and his stark white hair draped in tangles down the back of his neck and over his shoulders. He must have been resting against the log they'd dragged over by the fire, for he was seated against it now, with his long legs still tucked in his bedroll.

"Okay," she whispered, "we can talk now."

Sten's brow furrowed. "But you hushed me," he said, again with his full voice.

Alistair snuffled in his sleep, then turned over to tuck closer to Egg.

Rhiannon flapped her hands at Sten, almost violently, so forceful was her urgency. "Whisper, Sten!"

His mouth twitched. "Oh," he whispered. "I see."

She glared. "You're messing with me."

"Yes."

"Just for that, you won't get what I've gotten you."

Sten's brow furrowed. "Then why are you telling me so?"

"Don't you want it?"

"It is not mine yet, so why should I mourn its loss?"

Rhiannon sighed, then unceremoniously tossed the totem into his lap. It was the length of her hand, carved from blue chalcedony, and swirled all over with grooves that, together, depicted some sort of figure with a wide open mouth. Sten just stared at it, frozen.

"For you," Rhiannon said under her breath. "I know you like art, so... yeah."

Sten's response was slow, almost to himself, and a proper whisper now. "Its craftsmanship is so precise. Such dedication for something purely meant to be looked at."

"Or worshipped," Rhiannon said with a shrug.

"It is inanimate," Sten whispered. "It cannot be worthy of worship." He picked it up, and it looked delicate in his huge hands as he peered closely. A smile tugged at his lips.

"Careful," Rhiannon chuckled. "You're very close to revering a carven image."

"I am admiring it. That is different."

She just smiled to herself, shaking her head. "So you... like it?"

He looked up at her suddenly, as if registering that she was still there. He held the totem between both hands and tucked it close to his chest, like she might try to snatch it back — his eyes were big and violet and imploring in the dark. "Do I get to keep it?"

"Of course," Rhiannon whispered with surprise. "I was teasing earlier. It really is for you."

His voice sounded almost... young, even surprised, when he leaned close to her and whispered back, "Thank you, kadan, for this gift."

She closed the small distance between them and bumped her forehead against his, almost hard enough to hurt. "Don't mention it, vhenan."

[demonic-minnezone]

Ateez-Reaction-Yandere

Hongjoong-Yeosang

Seeing you for the first time

Hongjoong

Hongjoong decided that today he would go get some coffee at the new café before going back to work. The café didn't have many people as it was still early, he noted that there were 5 tables taken. The café was cozy and warm making him feel comfortable, but the thought of the place was completely forgotten when he saw the barista. He was completly starstruck and frozen in place by the beauty and kind smile of the barista.

"Hello what can i get for you today sir"

Ever since that day he came every single day noting your schedule. He would come extra early than his work hours just to watch you before going to his work place. He was completely enamored by you and he was going to have you one way or another.

Seonghwa

Seonghwa went to the mall hoping to come out of it with a new lego set to work on at home. He didnt expect him to come out with his mind set on getting the worker to be his.

Going around the store he decided to finally get the titanic lego set, grabbing the box he went to go pay for it. He noted while waiting in line that there was a new worker being trained. As he got to the front he finally saw the new worker. He felt his heart thump in his chest as he saw them, in his eye the worker was gorgeous. Seonghwa couldn't help but love the way their cheeks flush red and the shyness they possed.

"Hello sir how's your day been"

His obsession grew as the day went by, the image of the worker fresh and set on his mind.Seonghwa knew he could have anyone at his fingertips and he was going to have you no matter what it takes.

Yunho

Yunho decided to take a walk around the park, enjoying the cool weather of mid October. As he was walking he saw a small papillon running free, its owner chasing it from behind. Yunho manage to catch it and pick it up petting it to calm it down.

"Oh my... Thank you so much"

Yunho didnt expect the owner of the trouble maker puppy to be absolutely beautiful. Handing back the dog back to its owner he replied saying that it was fine. Not wanting to say goodbye he offered to walk with you and your dog. You agreed and Yunho was more than happy to get to know you and make you his.

Yeosang

Yeosang decided to go the the library to study for his finals. Entering he greeted the old librarian and went to find a place to sit. He wasnt surprised that it was full as it was finals week. He found a spot in the back and decided to sit at that table, noticing that there was already sitting there. Not wanting to be rude he decided to look for another spot.

"You can sit here the place is packed so finding another seat will be hard"

The soft voice melted his heart, turning to the voice he got a better look at the person. They were gorgeous and the small, shy smile made him want to melt even more. In the end he wanted to melt in yours arms and for you to hold him like your world depended on him.

[justonemorechapternicercy]

Seeing a new surge of anti sentiments, I just had to write a tiny ficlet with my favorite boys ♥️ Percico/Nicercy my beloved ♥️

"I see you - it nearly kills me. I want to kiss you, touch you, feel you. I want to be with you," came the passionate speech from Nico's cabin. Percy stood frozen, hand halfway raised to knock.

"Oh, Nico..." That was Will's voice, wasn't it? Percy swallowed, his hand falling back, weak, shaking.

Black dots were dancing in front of his eyes, suddenly the air felt too heavy, too dense to breathe in. He should... He had to...

Even if he knew he had to leave, he stood there, frozen, legs rooted in the ground.

"I feel the same," Will said, breathless. Of course, he said that, Percy thought. Nico's speech was beautiful, and he was such an amazing person, everybody was at least half in love with him. Percy already knew about Jason, who tried to hide his longing looks from his girlfriend, but there was no chance in Hades the daughter of Aphrodite didn't know about them; Leo, whose internalized homophobia was the only thing that stopped him from throwing himself onto Nico; and he, himself. But he was quite sure many others were in the same situation - Nico was just so irresistible.

And he chose Will Solace.

Percy was unsure if the distain he felt towards the guy was because of his jealousy, or because Will really was possibly the worst person Nico could have chosen, but it didn't matter. Even if Will never considered Nico's feelings when he did something, Nico still chose him, so Percy would support them.

He swallowed. Clenching his fist, he turned around and walked away with shaking legs. Will was a great healer, an okay friend, and he will learn how to be an amazing boyfriend for Nico.

Percy opened his door, then closed it behind him. Not even realizing what he was doing, he fell face forward onto his bed, that hid the traitorous tears falling from his eyes.

-*-*-

The next day he did everything as usual. Wake up early, visited the stable to gossip with the horse-like beings, ate breakfast, taught kids how to protect themselves with their sword. Nothing was out of the ordinary.

And if he had to force himself not to seek out Nico and Will - he absentmindedly wondered what will be their compulsory ship name from the Aphrodite cabin. Willco? Nill? - with more or less success. It helped that nothing changed there either.

They sat together - but they didn't lean closer to each other. They walked together - but they didn't hold hands. Will hugged Nico awkwardly - but they didn't kiss. As if the love confession from yesterday was only a nightmarish image from Percy's mind.

His neck was throbbing with pain as his jaws locked together. He vaguely felt the demigods around him take a step - or two - back as he tried smiling, not realizing how wrong he suddenly looked.

"Hey, Nico," he greeted the son of Hades, when he reached the seat where he was sitting alone.

"Percy," nodded Nico, eyebrows furrowed. "What's wrong?"

"Wrong? Why would anything be wrong?" Percy asked, still smiling.

"Percy," sighed the sitting demigod. "What happened? You look like you are ready to pick fight with a god."

"I'm always ready to pick fight with a god," Percy shrugged, the tense look on his face finally reducing at the light joking.

"Unbelievable..." Nico muttered, then patted the seat next to him. "Sit down, you will frighten the kids if you keep standing like a statue of Aunt Em." Percy's smile tensed again, but sit down he did.

"But really, what's wrong? I don't think I've ever seen you like this," Nico said, his face showing the worry he felt. Percy melted, and the tension almost completely left his body. It's okay... Even if Nico was with Will, it wouldn't mean their friendship was over. They had many ups and downs in their friendship, pride and misunderstandings from both sides, but their relationship came through stronger because of them. It would survive this situation as well.

"Nothing, really," Percy sighed, leaning forward so he could place his elbows on his tights to support his head. "I just learnt something yesterday that hurt me a bit, but it will be fine."

"I'm here if you want to talk about it," Nico offered, tentatively putting his hand on Percy's shoulder. The sea-green eyed demigod looked back, sending a painful smile, but shook his head.

"No, thank you. But!" His smile turned into a thousand megawatt one, as he straightened his back. "You too can talk to me about anything! If you have something to tell me... Something life-changing, maybe?" He winked.

"What?" Nico looked like he saw a ghost, which, seeing as he was the Ghost King, maybe wasn't as descriptive.

"You know... Did you do something new? Made a new friendship, maybe? Or met with a cute guy... You can tell me anything," Percy beamed at him, pushing down all the pain he felt as he asked Nico, wanting to show him he would support him with everything.

"I..." Nico mumbled something, his face worryingly pale and worried. He draw blood as he bit into his lip, drawing Percy's attention to those- But he quickly looked into Nico's dark eyes that hid so many things in their depth.

"Okay. I have something to tell you," Nico nodded. If Percy was worried about the paleness of his face, the new green tint made him wish he didn't force the issue. But it was too far to turn back now.

"It's okay, I won't judge you, okay?" Percy promised, taking a cold, sweaty hand into his. Nico's fingers dug into his hand as if he wanted to brace himself, but didn't try to get away from Percy, so he took that as a promising sign.

"I... I practiced what I wanted to say to you if I ever had the chance. I wasn't sure if I ever have the bravery to do it, but... Here we are. I... Seeing you... Seeing you all the time, smiling, and joking, being so supportive to everybody, it kills me. I look at you, and I wish I could kiss you, touch you, feel you close to me. I want to be with you, by your side forever and ever, and it kills me that you don't feel the same. I..." Nico stopped talking, but it wasn't like Percy noticed it as the ringing in his ears got stronger and stronger.

He sat there, frozen, not understanding what was happening. Was he- Did he- Was Nico-

"What?" Percy whispered.

"I'm sorry," Nico whimpered, trying to get back his hand from Percy's, but before he could do it, another hand stopped him.

"I heard you... You and Will. I don't... I don't understand," Percy stuttered, breathing too fast and too shallow.

"What?" Nico breathed, shocked.

"I thought... You... So you aren't... It's not Will? It's me?" Percy couldn't find the right words to express himself, but he had to know. He had to know if he had the chance.

"No, I'm not... He was just helping me practice. He thought it would be good for me to get over it - get over you -, but I never thought I could..." Nico trailed off. Percy squeezed his hand, and finally the hint of a real smile graced Percy's face.

"Hearing you confessing to Will and him accepting almost broke me. I... I love you, Nico. I want to kiss you, touch you, be with you. Is that okay?" Percy asked tentatively.

There was only one answer, really.

"Yes."