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sofiascripts · 10 months ago

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how izuku gets the girl! ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

teacher midoriya x reader

izuku midoriya is determined to mend the growing rift between you, desperate to prove how much you mean to him. with the support of his friends, he embarks on a series of grand gestures, each one more elaborate than the last. from awkwardly coordinated serenades to overly complicated surprise plans, his well-intentioned efforts keep falling short. despite their best attempts to help, his friends’ involvement only adds to the chaos. as midoriya stumbles through each attempt, sinking deeper into a mess of his own making, the question remains: will his efforts be enough to win you back?

✎ wc: 8,409... got a lil carried away guys

⤑ tw: ik eri isnt in hs yet but i didnt want to make any oc’s </3 als did not proofread, might proofread tmr morning tho so ;d also for the ending i sweat there was a reason i put him in there and had him say that but i FORGET FUCK so pretend its just cute and makes sense...characters may be ooc btw...

⤑ guess whos BACK (me) time to update that band one and this is inspired by how you get the girl by taylor swift! and gsonys izuku art on insta ;p

.・。.・゜✭・❤・✫・゜・。.

you were getting ready for bed, the house calm and quiet after a long day. a sudden, urgent knock on the front door startled you, pulling you from your relaxed state. glancing at the clock, you noted the late hour—unexpected visitors were rare at this time.

slipping on a robe, you shuffled to the door, wondering who it could be. as you opened it, your eyes widened in surprise. standing on your doorstep was midoriya, drenched from head to toe. his dress shirt clung to him, almost transparent from the rain, and water pooled at his feet, creating a small puddle on your porch. leaves and twigs were tangled in his usually neat green curls, and some wet strands were stuck to his forehead. his tie hung crookedly, and his dress pants were plastered to his legs, making him look like he had been caught in a torrential downpour.

each step he took made a squelching sound from his soaked socks, adding to the awkwardness of the moment. his breathing was uneven, each inhale a shaky gasp from his run. normally so composed, he now appeared as a soaking, disheveled mess, which was both surprising and oddly endearing.

you couldn’t help but stare, trying to reconcile this soaked figure with the usually neat and controlled midoriya you knew. he raised a trembling hand, his fingers shaking from the cold, and his knock came with an unsteady rhythm.

“izuku? are you insane?” you asked, bewildered.

midoriya, catching his breath, looked at you with a mix of determination and embarrassment. “it’s been a long six weeks,” he stammered. “i was too afraid to tell you what i wanted.”

.・。.・゜✭・❤・✫・゜・。.

4 weeks earlier.

midoriya sat in the faculty room, a stack of paperwork spread out in front of him. the late afternoon sun filtered through the blinds, casting long, soft shadows across the room. the air was thick with the usual quiet that filled the space during the end of a school day. across from him, aizawa leaned back in his chair, adjusting his scarf with a mix of impatience and concern.

“you’ve got to be tougher on your students, midoriya,” aizawa said, his voice carrying that familiar edge of seriousness. “i’ve seen you let them off too easily. it’s not helping them grow.”

midoriya glanced up from his paperwork, a frown tugging at his brow. “i don’t think i’m being too easy,” he replied, “i'm just trying to create a supportive environment. they need to learn, but they also need to feel encouraged.”

aizawa sighed, rolling his eyes slightly as he straightened in his chair. “you can be supportive without coddling them, midoriya. there’s a balance you need to find. letting them skate by on half efforts isn’t doing them any favors in the long run.”

midoriya bit his lip, mulling over aizawa’s words. before he could respond, the door to the faculty room suddenly burst open with a loud bang, startling both teachers. a group of students rushed in, their faces flushed with a mix of frustration and urgency. they barely stopped, practically tumbling into the room, completely ignoring the large no students allowed sign outside.

“midoriya-sensei, we need to talk!” one of the students blurted out, breathless, their words tumbling over each other in their haste. midoriya’s eyes widened as he recognized the group—some of his own students, including koda and eri. he glanced at aizawa, feeling a mix of embarrassment and concern as he began to sink into his seat, eyes drifting to the ceiling. he could feel aizawa’s silent stare, a reminder that maybe his softer approach wasn’t as effective as he’d hoped.

feeling the tense air from mr. aizawa, the students silently communicated with each other, deciding who should be the first to speak. “ms. y/l/n has been really tough on us during training,” eri spoke up, her voice tinged with concern. “we were hoping you could... calm her down or something?”

midoriya’s expression shifted, confusion evident. “calm her down? i didn’t even realize she was upset.”

aizawa raised an eyebrow, a knowing smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “well, maybe you’re just too used to midoriya’s leniency. y/n is an excellent teacher, but she’s always had high standards. maybe you’re all just not used to it.”

as if on cue, the door to the faculty room creaked open again, and you walked in. your usual warmth seemed to fill the room, and you greeted everyone with your signature cheerfulness. “hello, everyone!” you called out, your voice bright and welcoming.

but the moment your gaze landed on midoriya, your expression shifted. the smile that had lit up your face moments before disappeared, replaced by a look of dismissiveness. “mr. midoriya” you greeted him curtly, your tone clipped and formal. there was no warmth, no friendliness—just a cold acknowledgment of his presence.

midoriya felt his heart drop. you didn’t linger in the room like you normally would, chatting with the other teachers or sharing a laugh. instead, you turned on your heel and walked out just as abruptly as you had entered, leaving the room in a stunned, almost eerie silence.

the students exchanged nervous glances, their eyes wide with surprise. a low murmur spread through the group as they tried to make sense of what they had just witnessed.

“okay, that was definitely weird,” one of the students finally said, breaking the awkward silence that had settled in. “she’s usually so friendly with you, sensei.”

midoriya’s brow furrowed deeply as the pieces slowly began to fall into place in his mind. “yeah, that was strange,” he muttered under his breath, his voice quieter now as he stared at the door you’d just exited through. “she’s been distant lately, hasn’t she?” he continued, still muttering to himself, lost in thought. unconsciously, he reached up to rub the back of his neck, a habit of his when he was anxious. though he wasn’t speaking loudly, it was enough to catch the attention of everyone in the room.

the room grew quieter as the students slowly began to file out, their chatter subdued and filled with concerned whispers. but midoriya didn’t notice. he was too busy muttering quietly to himself, replaying each interaction with you in his mind, trying to piece together what had gone wrong.

aizawa narrowed his eyes as he watched midoriya. even he had to admit that your sudden shift in demeanor was odd. just as he was about to call out to midoriya, the younger hero suddenly stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the floor.

“i’ve got to talk to her,” midoriya mumbled, more to himself than anyone else, but it was loud enough for aizawa to hear. aizawa’s eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise. it wasn’t often he saw midoriya this shaken, especially over something non-hero related.

without waiting for a response, midoriya strode toward the door, his footsteps quick and determined. aizawa watched him go, releasing a quiet sigh as the door clicked shut behind him. the room was left in a contemplative silence, the weight of midoriya’s resolve lingering in the air.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

later that day, during lunch, midoriya gathered his courage and approached you as you sat alone at a corner table. he offered a hopeful smile, trying to bridge the growing gap between you.

“hey, y/l/n,” he began, his voice warm and sincere. “want to join me for lunch? it’s been a while, and i thought we could catch up.” he kept his tone light, hoping to ease whatever tension had built up between you.

you glanced up briefly, your expression guarded. the usual warmth that lit up your face when you saw him was gone, replaced with something distant. “no, thank you,” you muttered quietly, turning back to your meal, effectively cutting off the conversation. midoriya stood there for a moment, his smile faltering as your rejection hit harder than he’d anticipated.

from a nearby table, a group of students watched the exchange with bated breath. as soon as midoriya walked away, they quickly gathered around him, their concern obvious.

“what did you do?” eri asked, her voice laced with alarm.

midoriya ran a hand through his hair, his frustration and confusion evident. “i don’t know! i really don’t,” he replied, exasperated. “i thought we were on good terms. i didn’t mean to upset her.”

the students exchanged worried glances. “well, you’ve definitely done something,” koda said, crossing his arms. “you need to fix this.”

midoriya sighed, pulling out his phone to message his friends. as he walked away, his thoughts whirled with memories of your interactions over the past few weeks—every clipped response, every avoided glance, every time you’d left a room just as he’d entered. he replayed those moments over and over in his mind, trying to pinpoint when things had started going wrong—how had he not noticed something was off in the first place? when had it gotten this bad?

“was it something i said? or maybe something i didn’t say? did i miss something important?” he mumbled to himself, oblivious to the awkward stares he was receiving from the students nearby.

the students exchanged uneasy glances. they were used to midoriya talking to himself when he was deep in thought, but this time, it felt different—more personal, more troubling.

aizawa, who had been observing from a distance, narrowed his eyes slightly. he could see midoriya spiraling, lost in his thoughts. with a resigned sigh, he cleared his throat, snapping midoriya out of his daze.

“midoriya,” aizawa called out, his tone calm but firm, “whatever’s going on, you need to address it directly. stop overthinking and talk to her. otherwise, it’s just going to get worse.”

midoriya blinked, realizing that he’d been muttering to himself in front of everyone. embarrassment colored his cheeks as he looked around at the concerned faces staring back at him. “you’re right,” he said, his voice more resolute now. “i need to talk to her. i have to find out what’s going on and fix it.”

with a determined nod, midoriya set off to figure out what had gone wrong.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

midoriya decided to meet with his friends to discuss the situation, hoping their insights could help him understand what had gone wrong with you and how to fix it. he figured that since they had all spent time together, they might have noticed something he missed. they settled into a cozy corner of a café, their faces reflected a mix of concern and curiosity.

todoroki raised an eyebrow, studying midoriya closely. “you haven’t figured it out yet?”

midoriya shook his head vigorously, frustration evident. “no clue. i didn’t even notice that something was wrong. my students pointed it out.”

kirishima, usually cheerful, took on a serious tone. “this is a big deal. you don’t know what’s upsetting her or how long she’s been feeling this way. could be serious.”

midoriya nodded, determination clear in his features. “i’ll talk to her. i just need to understand what went wrong so i can make it right.”

kaminari, who had been quietly listening, leaned forward. “just talking to her isn’t going to cut it. if you really messed up, you need to go big.”

midoriya frowned slightly. “yeah, but what if the grand gesture is too much?”

“better to go overboard than underboard,” kirishima said firmly. “if she’s really upset, a grand gesture might show her how much you care. it’s about being a man and showing that you’re genuinely sorry.”

todoroki nodded in agreement. “think of something meaningful. show her how much you value her.”

“no half-assed attempts,” bakugou added, his tone serious. “if you’re going to do this, make it count.”

midoriya’s resolve strengthened with each piece of advice. “i’ll come up with something that truly shows how much she means to me. i want to make sure she knows i’m serious about fixing this.”

his friends exchanged approving glances, satisfied with midoriya’s determination. as they continued brainstorming ideas, the café buzzed with the energy of their discussion. midoriya’s mind raced with possibilities, each more elaborate and heartfelt than the last. he knew he had to pull out all the stops to make things right with you, and he was ready to put everything he had into it. the grand gestures was the way to go, and he was determined to make it unforgettable.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

the first idea had come from aoyama. somehow, word had spread through their old class about midoriya’s dilemma, and each of them had ideas on how to help. aoyama, being aoyama, suggested something extravagant.

“a grand piece of art!” aoyama had said with flair. “something beautiful that she can walk through and admire. she’ll be swept off her feet!”

with todoroki’s help, they crafted an elaborate display of ice sculptures—each one representing something meaningful to you. the sculptures were delicate, intricate depictions of your favorite things: a particular book you loved, a scene from a memory they shared, and even a tiny version of your favorite flower.

as midoriya stood beside todoroki, his face glowed with anticipation. “thank you so much for helping with this,” midoriya said, his voice brimming with gratitude. “i really appreciate it.”

todoroki nodded, though he seemed slightly uneasy. “no problem. i’m sure she’ll love it.”

when you arrived, you looked hesitant but curious. midoriya guided you forward with a flourish, eager to see your reaction. but as you came into view, the excitement drained from his face.

instead of a beautiful display, you were met with a scene of puddles and half-melted ice sculptures. the intricate figures that todoroki had so carefully crafted were now just watery blobs.

midoriya stood by your side, looking disheveled and panicked. he glanced around in confusion, noticing that the ice was melting faster than it should have. “but... it’s winter,” he muttered, his brow furrowing.

you stared at the mess, disappointment and frustration washing over you. “what is this?” you asked, your voice tight with irritation.

midoriya, clearly distressed and flustered, stammered, “i thought it would be something special, but—”

he didn’t get to finish. glaring at him, you turned on your heel and stormed off, leaving him standing there, drenched in disappointment. todoroki and their friends, who had been watching from a distance, exchanged helpless glances as midoriya stood amidst the puddles of his failed gesture.

it was then that midoriya and todoroki noticed a group of first-year students practicing their fire quirks. the heat from their flames had warmed the ground, causing the ice sculptures to melt rapidly.

todoroki sighed, running a hand through his hair. “she was not happy.”

midoriya’s shoulders slumped. “i wanted to make her feel special, but all i did was mess things up.”

“don’t give up,” todoroki said, trying to reassure him. “there’s still time. just... maybe something simpler next time.”

but simpler didn’t come easily for midoriya. with each new idea suggested by his friends, he found himself spiraling further into chaos.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

midoriya had decided to take a bold step to make things right, following iida’s suggestion. he arranged a surprise staff meeting to publicly apologize to you, hoping that a formal and heartfelt apology would finally bridge the gap. with iida’s help, everything was set: the time, the place, and the carefully crafted speech midoriya had prepared.

however, midoriya overlooked one crucial detail—unbeknownst to him you had a doctor’s appointment scheduled for the same time as the meeting and couldn’t attend. unaware of your absence, midoriya proceeded with the plan.

as the meeting time approached, midoriya arrived early, his nerves jangling with anticipation. he had meticulously rehearsed his speech and was ready to make his apology. iida arrived shortly after to help set everything up and work the slideshow. the rest of the staff arrived, each person taking their seat, eager to hear what midoriya had prepared.

when the time came, midoriya stood at the front of the room, his speech in hand, only to realize that you were missing. a quick check with iida confirmed that you were indeed not present, and midoriya’s heart sank. he had planned to address you directly, but with you absent, he was at a loss for how to proceed.

in a moment of panic, midoriya decided to go ahead with the meeting anyway. clearing his throat, he began, “uh, thank you all for coming. i, um, had prepared a speech for ms. y/ln, but it seems she couldn’t make it today…”

the staff exchanged confused glances, some shuffling in their seats, unsure of what to do. midoriya, now the center of attention, tried to salvage the situation by improvising a general discussion about recent events and updates at the school.

he spoke about new curriculum changes, upcoming events, and even shared some amusing anecdotes to fill the awkward silence. what was intended as a formal apology session transformed into an impromptu staff meeting, with midoriya as the flustered host. iida attempted to assist by passing around random papers with topics, but this only added to the confusion.

as the meeting dragged on, it became evident that midoriya’s heartfelt apology had become an unintended and rather chaotic discussion. the staff, initially puzzled, became engaged in the unexpected meeting, though with a sense of bewilderment.

when the meeting finally wrapped up, midoriya stood at the front of the room, feeling a mix of relief and frustration. his attempt to make things right had resulted in an unplanned staff meeting.

you returned from your appointment later that day, only to hear about the mix-up from your colleagues. they filled you in on the unexpected turn of events. meanwhile, midoriya was already plotting his next grand gesture, determined to find a way to properly convey his apology and make things right with you.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

after the previous grand gestures were a flop, midoriya decided to try something simpler yet still meaningful. with the help of momo and uraraka, he picked out the perfect bouquet: a mix of your favorite flowers, complemented by blooms in colors he knew you liked. the vibrant petals were arranged with careful attention to detail, each one chosen with thoughtfulness and care. midoriya’s heart raced as he made his way through the hallway, clutching the bouquet tightly, hoping this gesture would finally break through the wall between you two.

as he approached the corner where you were about to turn, midoriya took a deep breath, holding the bouquet out in front of him. his nerves were on edge as he hoped you’d see the effort he’d put into this simple but heartfelt gesture.

but just as he was about to step into your view, a loud crackle filled the air. one of the first-year students, still struggling with their electricity quirk, had lost control, and sparks began to fly uncontrollably. midoriya’s eyes widened in horror as a stray bolt shot out and zapped right through the bouquet in his hands. the once-vibrant flowers were instantly reduced to nothing but charred stems, the bright colors now a dark, ashy mess.

you turned the corner just as midoriya was standing there, holding what looked like a bundle of burnt sticks. raising an eyebrow, you stopped in your tracks and stared at him. “uh… what’s this supposed to be?” you asked, trying to make sense of the scene in front of you.

midoriya’s face flushed bright red, and he stammered, “i… i had flowers for you, but…” he trailed off, glancing down at the destroyed bouquet. his shoulders slumped in embarrassment, and he shifted awkwardly, feeling the sting of failure.

you sighed, the hurt in your eyes evident. “well, thanks, i guess? never been given stems before.” your voice was laced with a mix of sadness and irritation as you shook your head. with that, you turned to walk away, leaving midoriya standing there with a sinking feeling in his chest. he felt like he’d only made things worse, once again.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

midoriya decided to try another simple approach to make amends. remembering your favorite coffee shop and the drink you loved, he headed there with a hopeful heart. the bell above the door jingled as he walked in, and the rich, comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee enveloped him. he approached the counter, his nerves making his voice slightly shaky.

“hi, i’d like to get an iced latte with hazelnut and caramel, please. it’s for someone special,” he said, trying to keep his tone light and friendly.

the barista nodded and started preparing the drink. midoriya watched with bated breath as the machine whirred and hissed, the caramel and hazelnut syrup swirling into the coffee. he could almost see his hopes and apologies taking shape in the cup.

just as the barista handed him the cup, the machine let out a loud, mechanical groan and then abruptly stopped working. the barista’s face fell as she glanced at the now silent machine.

“wow, you’re really lucky,” she said with a sigh. “the machine’s down, and we won’t be able to make another one of these until our manager gets back to check it out. probably won’t be able to make another one of these for another two hours.”

midoriya’s heart sank slightly. he felt a flicker of relief that he had managed to get the coffee before the machine broke down, but the frustration of his situation made his shoulders droop. he thanked the barista and took the cup with a shaky hand, his excitement tempered by worry. he hoped this gesture would be enough to bridge the gap between you and him.

just as he was about to step out, a kid darted past him, bumping into his side with a jolt. midoriya stumbled, and before he could react, the cup flew from his grasp, the precious coffee spilling in a slow-motion cascade onto the floor. the liquid pooled around his shoes, the ice cubes and caramel syrup mixing into a dark puddle.

his heart sank as he stared at the mess. “oh no,” he muttered, feeling a wave of frustration and embarrassment wash over him. he glanced back at the counter, where the barista was now talking to another customer.

“we can’t make any more of those for now. that lucky guy just got the last one,” the barista said, pointing directly at midoriya.

midoriya’s head snapped to the woman in front of the register, and he saw you. your expression shifting from confusion to surprise and then to dismay. your eyes widened as you took in the sight of the ruined cup and midoriya’s mortified face. you had somehow slipped past him while he was waiting, and now you stood in front of the register.

“oh, great,” you said, your voice tinged with frustration. “this just keeps getting better.”

midoriya, now red-faced and utterly deflated, stood there feeling the weight of his failed attempt to make things right. his mind raced as he wanted to apologize, explain, and make it up to you, but all he could do was stand there, feeling utterly deflated.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

it was the start of the school day, and midoriya was busy preparing his classroom for the students. he was in high spirits, excited to tackle the day’s lessons and he felt good about his plans to work things out with you. however, his optimism was abruptly interrupted when a group of students burst into the room, their faces flushed with a mixture of urgency and panic.

“sensei, we need to talk!” one of them exclaimed, practically breathless from running.

midoriya looked up from his desk, surprised by the sudden intrusion. “oh, don’t worry, guys! i know you’re eager to start and all, but you still have another half hour before homeroom begins.”

“no, this is urgent!” another student insisted, their voice tinged with anxiety. “it’s about ms. ms. y/ln.”

midoriya’s eyebrows furrowed in concern. “what about her?”

the students quickly gathered around him, pulling out their phones with frantic gestures. midoriya’s heart sank as he watched the video they played. it showed you in a training session, ruthlessly taking down a dummy with a green wig and a set of freckles. the dummy’s resemblance to midoriya was almost comical, and you were using a variety of improvised weapons—bats, metal rods, and even a few random objects that had no place in a school setting. your movements were executed with a dramatic flair and an intensity that was both impressive and alarming.

midoriya stared at the screen, his eyes widening with disbelief. “you guys came to school early just to show me this?”

“yeah,” one student said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “we’ve noticed that ms. y/ln has been a lot more relaxed with us lately. she’s been back to her old self, but you’re still clearly on her bad side. we thought you should see this to understand why.”

midoriya tried to keep his tone light, despite the unsettling nature of the video. “gee, thanks. this is... uh, definitely something.”

another student nodded, their expression serious. “yeah, sensei. you really need to figure out what you did. we like you a lot, but i wouldn’t want to be that test dummy. she’s clearly still holding onto something.”

midoriya’s face fell into a mix of worry and determination. “i’ll talk to her and figure this out. thanks for letting me know.”

as the students left, midoriya remained at his desk, replaying the video in his mind. the exaggerated way you had taken down the dummy made it clear that you were still very upset with him. he was more determined than ever to find out what had gone wrong and make things right before your frustration led to even more extreme demonstrations–and hes nervous for the day that you decide you need a human target.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

midoriya had been feeling increasingly desperate to make things right after his previous attempts ended in disaster. he remembered a conversation he’d had with todoroki after the ice sculpture mishap. todoroki had suggested, “a carefully written note might be the best way to communicate your feelings without risking another embarrassing mishap.”

at the time, midoriya had thought a note would be too simple and struggled with the idea, especially since he wasn’t quite sure what he was apologizing for. but the test dummy incident had pushed him to his limits, making him realize he couldn’t afford another failure.

determined, midoriya spent hours crafting the perfect message. he poured his heart into every word, making sure you understood how much you meant to him and how genuinely sorry he was for everything that had gone wrong. the note was sincere, filled with his deepest apologies and hopes for understanding.

the library seemed like the ideal place to leave the note—quiet, private, and somewhere you were likely to find it without interference. midoriya waited for the library to clear out, his nerves on edge. when it was finally empty and still, he walked in, his heart pounding.

he spotted your folder resting on a table and took a deep breath. with a mix of nervous excitement and hope, he slipped the note inside, feeling a small sense of victory as he did. as he walked away, he felt a renewed sense of hope, convinced that this time, things might finally go right.

but later that afternoon, as midoriya walked down the hall towards the teachers’ lounge, he overheard two students talking animatedly.

“did you hear?” one student said, their voice filled with excitement. “a love note ended up in mr. aizawa’s folder!”

midoriya froze, his heart racing as he processed the shocking news. “mr. aizawa?!” he thought, his mind whirling with panic. he hadn’t seen you since the incident, and now he was horrified to discover that his apology note had ended up in aizawa’s folder instead of yours. his face went pale as he realized the note was meant to be a sincere apology, not a confession. he had never intended to make his feelings for you so obvious, and now he was mortified to find out it was interpreted as a love confession.

as he continued down the hall, he felt a pang of relief that the note hadn’t ended up in your folder, since it would have been even more awkward for you to see it that way. but that relief was overshadowed by the embarrassment and frustration of his mistake. midoriya’s stomach churned as he realized the mess he had accidentally created. desperate to correct the situation, he quickly rushed into the lounge, his face pale with worry and his thoughts racing.

he began pacing around the room, knowing he had to act fast. he needed to find a way to rectify the situation with aizawa and still make things right with you. his heart pounded as he brainstormed how to salvage his heartfelt gesture before it was too late.

i take it this note was meant for y/ln?” aizawa’s voice cut through the room, startling midoriya.

midoriya jumped, his heart leaping into his throat. he turned to see aizawa standing in the doorway, his usually stern expression replaced by an intense, almost intimidating gaze. midoriya’s face went pale, and he stammered, “yes! i’m really sorry about this, aizawa. i didn’t mean for it to get this messy.”

aizawa’s eyes narrowed slightly, his tone dropping to a low, almost menacing growl. “you know, midoriya, if you’re going to mess up, you should probably make sure it doesn’t involve the entire faculty.”

midoriya swallowed hard, a cold sweat forming on his forehead. he felt a rush of anxiety as he tried to explain himself. “i didn’t want to cause any trouble. i just thought—”

“do you like her?” aizawa interrupted, cutting through midoriya’s nervous babble.

midoriya blinked, taken aback. “well, yes, i do. i mean, i—”

“do you like her in a romantic way?” aizawa pressed, his gaze unyielding.

midoriya’s face flushed bright red. he began to ramble, “uh, yeah, i guess you could say that. i’ve liked her for a long time, and i’ve been trying to show her that, but everything keeps going wrong. i mean, i’ve been messing up left and right, and—”

“how did you get that idea?” midoriya finally blurted out, stumbling over his own words.

aizawa’s eyes softened just a bit. “this seems like a big apology for a coworker,” aizawa said, his tone shifting slightly. “sounds like a confession to me.”

midoriya’s eyes widened, and his face turned beet red. “oh, well, yeah, you could say that. i’ve been scared to tell her how i feel because i didn’t want to make things worse. i keep screwing up and pushing us further apart, and—”

“you’re overcomplicating things,” aizawa said, cutting through midoriya’s anxious rambling. “maybe it’s time to just talk to her directly.”

midoriya nodded, determination settling on his face. he knew he needed to take a straightforward approach to make things right. with a renewed sense of purpose, he prepared himself to finally confront the situation head-on, hoping that this time, his genuine feelings would come through and truly make a difference.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

midoriya was rushing out of the school building, determined to go home and prepare for a straightforward conversation with you. his plan was clear: find out what he’d done wrong, ask how he could make things right, and confess his feelings. he was nearly at the exit when kaminari, kirishima, todoroki, and bakugou intercepted him.

“hey, where are you rushing off to?” kaminari called out, blocking midoriya’s path with an eager grin.

midoriya came to a halt, his frustration evident. “i’m heading home to get ready for a talk with y/n. i really don’t have time for this.”

“perfect timing, then!” kaminari said, his grin widening. “we’ve got a plan to help you out.”

“a plan?” midoriya asked, eyeing the guitar kaminari was holding. “what’s this about?”

and that’s how midoriya found himself standing in front of your house, flanked by bakugou, kirishima, kaminari, and todoroki, all ready to serenade you like a group of love-struck lunatics. the whole situation felt surreal to him. he turned to kaminari, wearing the same skeptical and apprehensive expression he had earlier when they had intercepted him.

“are you sure this is going to work?” midoriya asked, trying to sound confident but clearly nervous.

kaminari, holding his guitar with a grin, shrugged nonchalantly. “works on jirou all the time. chicks love when you sing to them. it’s like some kind of chemical thing, I think.”

“okay, okay,” midoriya said, taking a deep breath. “let’s just get this over with.”

kaminari strummed the opening chords of the song, and midoriya took his place in front of the group, awkwardly adjusting his stance. he started singing, his voice wavering at first but gradually gaining confidence as he got into the rhythm. the lyrics were heartfelt, a mixture of longing and apology, expressing how much he missed you and how desperately he wanted to make things right.

as midoriya sang, his initial discomfort slowly faded, replaced by a genuine emotion that he hoped would reach you. kirishima and todoroki added their backup vocals, harmonizing with the main melody, while bakugou stood off to the side with his arms crossed, trying to look disinterested but clearly invested in the performance.

just as the song hit its emotional peak, the front door of the house swung open. an elderly man, clearly not you, stormed out onto the porch, his face red with irritation. “what in the world do you think you’re doing, making all this noise at this hour?!”

midoriya froze, his heart sinking as he realized their mistake. the old man’s eyes narrowed, and with a powerful gust of wind from his quirk, he sent them stumbling back. the sudden force knocked them off balance, and midoriya barely managed to stay upright.

“run!” kaminari yelled, already sprinting down the street. the others scrambled to follow, scattering in every direction as the irate old man pursued them with surprising vigor and speed for someone his age.

“it’s only seven o’clock at night!” kaminari shouted, his voice tinged with panic as he was flung into the air. midoriya and the rest of the group could only watch in horror as their friend was tossed around like a rag doll by the furious old man.

the old man’s face was a deep shade of red with rage. “it’s late enough! get off my lawn!” he bellowed, his voice amplified by the force of his quirk. gusts of wind howled around them, whipping up leaves and debris.

three houses down, you were grading papers when the commotion outside drew your attention. the sounds of shouting and the rush of wind made you step onto your porch, where you were met with a scene of utter chaos: a group of boys being chased by your 80-year-old neighbor, who was shaking his cane with fierce determination and unleashing his wind quirk with surprising strength.

through the flurry of wind and movement, you squinted and recognized the familiar green-haired figure. as realization dawned, you couldn’t help but burst into laughter at the absurdity of it all.

midoriya, flailing mid-flight against the gusts of wind, finally spotted you. panic and embarrassment flashed across his face as he was propelled toward your direction. when his eyes met yours, his expression softened into a sheepish smile.

seeing him so disheveled and helpless only made you laugh harder. you hesitated for a moment, then gave him a small, wavering wave. your smile blended amusement with sympathy, recognizing that this wild spectacle was all his doing.

as midoriya was swept past, he saw you retreating back into your home, closing the door behind you. despite the chaos, he managed to hold onto that sheepish grin. your smile, amid the disaster of the serenade, gave him a flicker of hope.

midoriya felt himself being yanked out of the wind’s path and looked up to see bakugou standing over him with a smirk. “looks like you finally got her attention, nerd,” bakugou said, his voice dripping with a mix of amusement and satisfaction.

midoriya, still disoriented from the chaos, brushed himself off and looked around at the scattered group. kirishima and todoroki were catching their breath, while kaminari was sitting on the curb, looking dazed and slightly battered. the gusts of wind had finally ceased, but the ruckus had left its mark.

midoriya’s thoughts raced as he tried to piece together what had just happened. “how did we get the house wrong?” he muttered, he looked up at the house they had just been harassing, his eyes finally taking in the number on the mailbox: 109. realization hit him hard. “we’re at 109, not 106!” he exclaimed, his face falling in disbelief.

the group turned in unison to kaminari, their collective frustration apparent. “you got the address wrong, didn’t you?” bakugou growled, glaring at him.

kaminari’s eyes widened in panic. “it was just a mistake! I didn’t—”

midoriya’s realization was quickly overshadowed by another gust of wind. the old man, still fuming and clutching his cane, had spotted the group again and was gearing up for another attack.

“run!” kirishima shouted, causing midoriya and the others to jump into motion. they scrambled for safety, but the old man’s wind quirk picked up speed, howling as it blasted toward them.

amid the chaos, kaminari, who was still dazed from the earlier commotion, stumbled and tripped over his own feet. “guys, wait up!” he yelled, but his plea was drowned out by the roaring wind.

without a second thought, the rest of the group sprinted away, leaving kaminari behind. the old man’s quirk grabbed kaminari and sent him flying into the air. midoriya, glancing back, saw kaminari flailing helplessly as he was tossed around like a ragdoll.

“sorry, man!” kirishima shouted over his shoulder, guilt evident in his voice as he continued to run.

kaminari’s screams echoed through the night as the old man, now thoroughly enraged, spun him around with impressive strength. “try and sing now pretty boy!” the old man roared, hurling kaminari high into the air before catching him again and sending him spinning.

midoriya and the others continued to flee, their pace slowing as they glanced back nervously. the old man’s furious wind gusts faded into the distance, and with each passing moment, kaminari’s screams grew quieter.

they ran behind the cover of trees and bushes, their breaths coming in ragged gasps. midoriya’s heart pounded in his chest, not just from the exertion but from the fear for their friend. kirishima, breathing heavily, kept turning his head, his face a mix of worry and regret.

“is he still…?” kirishima began, but his voice trailed off as the group strained to listen. kaminari’s cries, once sharp and panicked, had dwindled to distant echoes.

“i don’t hear him anymore,” todoroki said, his voice low and tense.

“he should be alright,” bakugou said, his tone brimming with frustration. “he can take care of himself.”

midoriya swallowed hard, unable to shake the image of kaminari being tossed around. “we need to go back,” he said, his voice determined but weary.

“no way,” bakugou countered. “we need to stay out of sight. we can’t help him if we get caught too.”

they continued to move away, their steps slow and cautious as they kept glancing back toward the fading sound of kaminari’s distress. the screams eventually faded completely, leaving only the haunting memory of their friend’s ordeal.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

the four boys made their way to todoroki's apartment, the closest and most convenient refuge after their chaotic run-in with the old man. as they settled in, todoroki offered drinks and snacks while they waited for kaminari to arrive. they sent a steady stream of text messages to their missing friend, updating him on their location and asking him to join them as soon as possible.

as midoriya was deep in thought, trying to piece together the troubling realization, the front door to todoroki’s apartment burst open. kaminari staggered in, drenched from head to toe. his clothes clung to him, and he dripped puddles onto the floor. the room fell silent as the others turned to see their soggy friend, a mix of relief and confusion on their faces.

“dude, you’re soaked!” kirishima exclaimed, rushing to grab a towel for kaminari.

kaminari, still catching his breath and shivering from the cold, looked around at the concerned faces. “you guys won’t believe it. there’s a huge storm outside. i got caught in it while the old man was still throwing me around. the wind was so strong it messed withhis quirk. managed to escape when he got distracted by the storm.”

as kaminari finally managed to get himself mostly dry, he glared at his friends, still visibly shaken. “i can’t believe you guys left me behind out there!” he exclaimed, frustration and disbelief clear in his voice.

kirishima tossed a towel to kaminari, shooting him an apologetic look. “we didn’t exactly have much of a choice. the old man was going to blow us all away!”

todoroki nodded in agreement. “yeah, and you kind of tripped over your own feet, making it hard for us to help.”

bakugou crossed his arms, smirking. “it’s not like we planned for you to get caught. it’s your fault for messing up the address.”

kaminari’s eyes widened. “are you seriously blaming me for this? you guys should have double-checked!”

despite the lively discussion, midoriya’s attention drifted. sitting cross-legged on the floor and leaning back against the wall, he stared at the flickering embers of the fire. the warmth from the fire contrasted sharply with the turmoil in his mind. lost in thought, he replayed the events of the night over and over. his heart sank as he remembered a crucial detail from weeks ago—a fleeting moment he had brushed off at the time but now seemed significant. it was something you had said or done that had seemed minor then, but now it loomed large in his memory.

his eyes widened as the realization struck him with the force of a freight train. his heart dropped, a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. the truth of that moment made everything about their disastrous serenade make sense, and the weight of his mistake felt heavier than ever.

it was a few weeks ago, right before fall break. you and midoriya had been sitting at your dining table, grading papers together. the room was filled with the soft sounds of pens scratching against paper, and outside, the leaves were a brilliant mix of oranges and golds. he remembered how content you seemed, how you’d smiled at him, saying, “you know, izuku… this is kind of nice.”

he’d looked up, confused but curious. “what is?”

“just… this.” you’d waved your hand at the table, the papers, and the two of you sitting together. “it’s nice. we should do it more often.”

he’d smiled back, completely missing the undertone of your words. “yeah, i think so too! it’s a lot easier to get through all this work when we’re doing it together. makes it less boring.”

he could see it now, the small shift in your expression as you nodded, pushing on despite his obliviousness. “exactly. it’s… comfortable, being here with you. like, i wouldn’t mind doing this… more often.”

he’d laughed, still clueless. “definitely! actually, i was just thinking how much easier this would be if we had uraraka and iida helping out too. we’d be done in no time!”

the way your smile had faltered, how your eyes had dimmed slightly as you tried one last time. “well, i’m just glad it’s you here with me. it wouldn’t be the same with anyone else.”

and he’d laughed again, unknowingly brushing off what had been a confession of sorts. “haha, thanks! i guess we do make a pretty good team. we’re like the ultimate grading duo!”

he saw it so clearly now—the way you’d sighed, looking deflated, your words trailing off as you muttered, “yeah… a good team.”

and he had just continued grading, thinking everything was fine, not realizing that he’d hurt you, that you’d taken his response as a gentle rejection.

it hit him like a punch to the gut. how could he have been so blind? the way you’d smiled at him that night, the vulnerability in your voice—he’d completely missed it. and in doing so, he’d hurt the person he cared about most.

pacing around todoroki’s apartment, midoriya was a whirlwind of anxiety. his thoughts were racing, and his pacing left an impression on the floor. "i... i messed up," midoriya said softly, almost to himself. but the others noticed. the chatter in the room stopped as they all turned to look at him.

bakugou was the first to speak. "what the hell are you babbling about now, deku?"

midoriya ran a hand through his hair, his fingers trembling slightly. "there was this night... we were at her house, grading papers. she said something that i—I completely missed the point. i thought we were just talking about work, but now... i realize she was trying to tell me something."

kirishima raised an eyebrow. "what did she say?"

midoriya exhaled shakily. "she said... 'i’m just glad it’s you here with me. it wouldn’t be the same with anyone else.' and then... i just said, 'yeah, we’re a good team!' and moved on like it was nothing."

there was a beat of silence.

kaminari let out a low whistle. "dude..."

todoroki nodded slowly, piecing it together. "you didn’t realize she was talking about more than just grading, did you?"

midoriya shook his head, his face turning pale. "no... i didn’t. i thought she was just talking about us working together. i didn’t even think... i didn’t realize she meant that i was special to her. that being with me was different for her."

bakugou scoffed. "you’re such a damn idiot, even this half and half loser was able to put it together. she practically laid it out for you."

midoriya’s face flushed with embarrassment. "i know... i know, i was an idiot. but at the time, i just didn’t see it. i didn’t think... i didn’t think someone like her would... feel that way about me."

kirishima’s grin softened into something more understanding. "man, that’s rough. but hey, it’s not too late. you can still do something about it."

midoriya looked up, determination sparking in his eyes. "you’re right. i have to fix this. can’t just leave things like this."

“thats the spirit buddy! while you were being all weird in the corner we managed to track down a few people who are willing to do a flash m-”

midoriya was barley registering what kaminari was. his mind was fixated on you and what he needed to do. without a word, he bolted for the door, leaving the others staring in confusion.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

midoriya stood at your door, a soaked mess of a romantic cliché. the rain had pounded him relentlessly, leaving his dress shirt clinging to his skin, almost see-through from the downpour. water dripped steadily from him, forming a small, glistening puddle on your porch. leaves and twigs were tangled in his green curls, sticking out like a wild, untamed halo, while some damp strands clung to his forehead. his tie hung askew, probably snagged during his frantic sprint, and his dress pants were plastered to his legs, heavy with rain.

each step he took produced a miserable squish from his soaked socks, echoing the awkwardness of the situation. his breathing was uneven, each inhale a shaky gasp from the run to your house. normally so composed, midoriya now stood there, a sopping wet contradiction to his usually neat appearance.

he raised a trembling hand to knock, his fingers fumbling with cold and nerves. when you answered the door, your eyes widened in shock. the sight of midoriya was like something out of a slapstick romantic comedy—his usually neat hair was a wild mess, and his clothes clung to him in a way that was more tragic than suave.

“izuku? are you insane?” you asked, bewildered.

midoriya, still panting from his run, looked at you with a mix of determination and embarrassment. “it’s been a long six months,” he stammered, struggling to catch his breath. “i was too afraid to tell you what i wanted.”

you raised an eyebrow, taking a step back to survey the drenched mess in front of you. “what are you talking about? you look like you swam here.”

midoriya took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “that night we were grading papers, you said something that i didn’t understand at the time. you said, ‘i’m just glad it’s you here with me. it wouldn’t be the same with anyone else.’”

you blinked, still processing his soaked appearance. “yeah, i did. no need to—”

“i thought you meant you were just glad to have me as a coworker,” midoriya interrupted, his voice trembling with vulnerability. “but now i realize you were trying to tell me something much more important. i was so focused on keeping you as a friend that i didn’t realize i missed my chance to be something more.”

your eyes widened, and you took a step back, your mind racing. “wait, so… you like me?”

“yes, i really do,” midoriya said, his voice trembling with cold and nervousness. “i’m sorry it took me so long to figure this out. i want you in my life, no matter what. i know i’ve messed things up, and i want to make it right. you mean so much to me, and i’d wait as long as it takes to prove that. i like you, a lot.”

you stared at him with a mix of frustration and relief. “oh my god, i thought you hated me! you tried to give me flowers, then there were the puddles, and the coffee—”

midoriya’s eyes widened in realization. “the flowers…the puddles—those were all me trying to show you how i felt!”

you groaned in disbelief, “and you didnt understand my way?”

midoriya’s face turned a deeper shade of red. “i’m sorry. i thought—”

you cut him off, frustration clear in your voice. “i thought you didn’t care! after i tried to confess, i needed some space, and you acted like nothing happened. then all these weird things kept happening, and it felt like you were mocking my feelings for you.”

midoriya’s shoulders slumped, his eyes filled with regret. “i was trying to show you how much you mean to me, but every time, something went wrong. i thought if i kept trying, it would get better, but it just made things worse.”

he stepped closer, the rain drenching his already soaked clothes. “i’m here to make things right. i want you to know how much you mean to me. i’m not just sorry for misunderstanding—i’m sorry for not realizing how special you are until now.”

he reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he took yours. his gaze was full of hope, his green eyes reflecting the soft glow of the porch light. “please, give me a chance to show you how much i care. i want to be more than just a good team. i want to be someone you can count on, someone who truly understands you.”

midoriya’s hand, cold and trembling, felt reassuringly warm against yours. the droplets cascading down his face highlighted the emotion in his expression, his eyes locked on yours. every sound around you—the distant rumble of thunder, the soft patter of rain, and the steady beat of your heart—seemed to magnify the intimacy of the moment.

it felt as if the world had come to a standstill, holding its breath for this delicate, significant moment between the two of you. as you took a shaky breath, the weight of the past weeks seemed to lift, replaced by a fragile sense of anticipation.

with a small, tearful smile, you finally found your voice. “okay.” the word was barely a whisper, yet it carried the weight of your emotions. it was a simple affirmation, but it felt profound in the context of your shared experience.

midoriya’s face lit up with a mixture of relief and joy as he stepped even closer, the warmth of his presence nearly overwhelming despite the cold rain soaking through his clothes. droplets of water dripped onto your porch as he gently squeezed your hand, his thumb tenderly tracing over your knuckles. his eyes were filled with nothing but pure adoration, and before you knew it, he pulled you gently into his embrace, his soaked clothes pressing against you. the cold of the rain was undeniable, and you shivered as the chill seeped into your warmth.

“izuku, you’re freezing,” you managed between giggles, squirming slightly as the coldness of his wet clothes made you shudder.

he chuckled softly, his breath warm against your ear despite the rain-soaked predicament. “i know, but i just couldn’t stay away.”

midoriya pulled back slightly, his arms still around you but loosening just enough to gaze into your eyes. his smile was wide, his expression a perfect blend of admiration and pure joy. he took a moment to fully appreciate how beautiful you looked, even as you laughed and tried to escape his embrace. the rain highlighted the sparkle in your eyes and the joy in your smile, making the moment feel even more special. he was overwhelmed with how lucky he felt to be here with you, sharing this perfectly imperfect moment.

slowly, midoriya cupped your face in his hands, his fingers brushing gently against your cheeks. the warmth of his touch contrasted sharply with the chill of the rain, and you could feel the delicate tremor in his fingers, a sign of how much this moment meant to him. his gaze was tender, his eyes holding a mix of admiration and vulnerability that made your heart flutter.

you could feel his breath mingling with yours, each exhale warm and soothing against the cool, damp air. his closeness was both comforting and electrifying, the sensation of his presence enveloping you completely. midoriya’s gaze lingered on your lips for a moment before he leaned in slowly, giving you ample time to pull away if you wished. when his lips finally met yours, the kiss was gentle and tender, a stark contrast to the cold rain that drummed against the porch.

the kiss deepened gradually, each movement slow and deliberate, as if he were savoring every second. the warmth of his lips, paired with the lingering chill of the rain, created a stunning contrast that sent shivers down your spine. as his kiss conveyed both an apology and a promise, you felt a wave of warmth flood through you, banishing the chill of the downpour. the connection between you was profound, a blending of emotions that left you breathless.

midoriya’s hands, still cradling your face, were careful and reverent. the world outside—the rain, the noise, the chaos—seemed to dissolve, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of shared warmth and connection. his lips lingered against yours, his touch gentle as if he were afraid to break the spell of this perfect moment.

when he finally pulled away, his eyes were still locked on yours, and his smile was filled with pure, unrestrained happiness. he opened his mouth, seemingly ready to say something heartfelt, but before he could speak, loud cheers erupted from the bushes nearby.

“so manly!” “let’s go, young midoriya!”

the sudden outburst startled both of you. midoriya turned, his expression shifting from soft adoration to surprise as kaminari, kirishima, todoroki, and bakugou emerged from their hiding spots. kaminari was grinning widely, fist-pumping the air, while kirishima gave midoriya an exaggerated thumbs-up. todoroki offered a subtle nod of approval, and bakugou, arms crossed, smirked and muttered, “finally got her izuku.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

an: reach out?? the embers?? guys did i eat or what like tf anyways guys i have so many ideas so much i wanna write but why does it take so LONG FUCK but anyways enjoy this while i try to shit out some band au stuff (i love my band au plotline so much but i cant do any of the in between stuff its like a partial writers block)

#mha x reader #mha #bnha fic #bnha x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku midoriya #midoriya x reader #mha izuku #izuku x reader #mha midoriya #izuku mydoria #izuku midoryia x you #izuku midoriya fluff #mha fluff #bnha fluff #teacher midoriya

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coeurify · 2 years ago

Note

repost the period vampire ellie fic!

middle of the night,, vamp!ellie

a/n: this is a repost from early this year so excuse any change in writing style!

warnings: vampire!ellie. period sex. oral!r receiving fingering!r receiving. sort of a dreamy, less modern vibe. if u aren’t into it.. just don’t read it.

˚✦　.　　. 　 ˚　.　 . ✦　˚　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

Some times--Most times, you only saw her at night. When darkness enveloped the small town you called home, when the stars rocked the sleepy eyed humans to sleep and the moon hummed the lullaby that quieted the crickets outside, she came.

Only then did you ever hear the distinct creaking of the splitting wood on your window panes being pressed up. Only then did the white of your sheer curtains move with more than the wind, the grip of the air nothing compared to the long hand that often wrapped around the fabric and pushed it open. When the moon was the only light filtering into your room, you saw the green of her eyes.

Tonight was no different, despite one little issue. Often, the woman who visited you under the cover of midnight would arrive to your eyes closed in sleep. She would press a hand to your warm cheek before waking you, greeted by your sleepy excitement each time.

This time, you had not been able to sleep. A heat had taken over your body, tight in your stomach with a pain you would compare to that of claws gnawing at your insides. Sweat beaded between your brows with every swift turn under your uncomfortable sheets, lip tugged between your frustrated teeth to stop any whines of discomfort. That had been what your favorite visitor heard as her shaking palms found the wood of your window. Your pained grunts floated through her buzzing ears as she quietly made her way into your room, auburn hair messy behind her ears as her figure became visible, head tilted as she looked across the room to your heated body.

“El,” you whined, wiping your forehead with a hand, not at all concerned about her chosen point of entry. “Go away.”

Ellie’s gaze softened, a scoff sounding from behind your squeezed shut eyes. “Go away?” she mused, her voice much closer now.

The split second your eyes had been closed, Ellie had somehow silently made it to your bedside. You don't question it, you never do.

When a girl like Ellie sports small fangs and a taste for blood, her speed is the last thing you think to question.

“I don't feel well, don’t want you here.” you add, mouth pulled into pout as you look up at the freckled face of Ellie.

“Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong, bunny? Instead of shooing me away,” Ellie requests, sitting on the edge of your bed. Her cold hand finds your sweaty arm, sighing. “You’re burning up.”

Your neck tickles with heat as Ellie questions your current state, and you fall wordless. Somehow, it was more embarrassing to admit to your vampire visitor that you were starting your period than to simply tell her to leave. Obviously however, Ellie was not taking the second option as a valid answer.

“I started my period, nothing is helpin’ the cramps,” you explain softly, pressing your hand into the sheets of your bed to try and sit, to maybe find some sort of relief to the growing tension in your stomach. But the other set of hands is faster.

“Lay down,” Ellie insists, glancing down at you. You can almost see the cogs of her brain turning behind the evergreen in her eyes, a sort of fogginess settling over the color.

“Let me help you,” she eventually says.

“What? I told you nothi-”

Ellie presses her lips together to hush you, one wandering hand finding the dip of your hip, blunt nail tracing the goosebump coated flesh there. Sometimes she liked being so cold, simply because she enjoyed seeing how you reacted to it. If she was damned for what she was, she may as well use some of it to her advantage.

“What are you doing?” You couldn't help the shiver that followed her movements.

Suddenly your mouth feels dry, tongue unable to wet the plump fat of your lip. The scratching in your throat finds no comfort when you swallow, only further irritating your vocal chords. A choked noise finds the heavy bedroom air as fingers tug at your cotton shorts.

“Helping you,” Ellie repeats, her own mouth much more wet than yours. Even in the dim light of the moon you can see the glistening dew on her parted lips. Usually the look she currently wears is saved only for when her pearly teeth find the sensitive and already scarred skin of your neck. Not for.. this.

Your hands immediately slap to your heated cheeks. “Oh my god Ellie, no fucking way.”

The vampire, who had now moved below you on the bed, hums in disagreement to your little show of kicking feet, a hand too strong to be that of a human halting all movements.

“We always have fun when I come over,” The freckles of her face disappear as she glances down, fully pulling down your shorts.

“Not when I’m on my period,” you hiss quietly, the words feeling cracked and embarrassed as they leave your mouth. You could deny the growing arousal in your belly simply by how *mortified* you felt. Even with the churning feeling of deeply settled embarrassment, you make no further moves to stop Ellie. Not as the shorts fall to the floor with a dull thump.

“It’ll help,” Ellie soothes, the near frigid temperature of her hand calming the heat that rises on the skin of your legs. “Haven’t you heard things like this help with cramps?”

The words that are spoken almost teasingly fall upon deaf ears as her wet lips press right above your knee. “Please,” the auburn haired girl whispers, sounding a lot more breathy than before. “Please, let me taste you. Let me make you feel better. ”

Ellie had a tendency to become a little less cold, figuratively at least, when she found her body nestled between your own. The unwavering voice you had grown oh so accustomed to always slid into a more mushy sounding version whenever it got intimate. Today, it seemed even worse. The words dripped with the sweet sounds of neediness, a sound that tasted sweet on your tongue, which swiped nervously over your dry lips.

“El..” Another kiss pressed further up the flesh of your warm thigh broke any following denial. “Fuck..” your chin wobbles, almost too embarrassed to actually say your following words, “Yea. Please help.”

You were sure if you believed something was watching down on you from the sky, it was with horror. Some people may call what Ellie was doing sinful. The angels in the clouds would shrilly gasp as fingers wrapped around your panties and tugged them and everything else from your bottom half, tossing them into the growing pile of clothes. Her shirt came next, the simple white cloth acted as something to watch as it pulled off of her chest, likely to avoid any mess. Some may call the sight of her dipping down again, green eyes looking up at your quivering lip, sinful. Maybe it was, surely the mewl you made when her lips found the heated flesh of your inner thigh was. But if you had to describe it, that wasn't the word you would use. You may even swear it was heavenly.

“Relax,” Ellie drawled, spreading your thighs further apart, despite the slight tremble to them. “I’ve got you, don't worry,” her voice soothed you enough to tilt your head back against the pillow, squeezing your eyes closed. The embarrassment simmered low in your belly, even more so when you could feel the arousal that dripped from you, which your vampire visitor had no problem pointing out. “So wet for me,” she groaned, lips still refusing to find home anywhere other than your thighs. Teeth sharper than your own nipped at the skin there, bucking your hips up. “You want this, don’t you?”

It was an obvious request for another confirmation of what was to come, but your chest felt too tight to reply, no air finding your lungs the moment her breath hovered over your pulsing core. “Tell me you want it,” she requests again, voice dipping into a softer territory again, searching for your approval. Her resolve was cracking however, jaw clicking as she tried her best not to dive straight into where she craved to be.

“I do,” you whine, eyes still closed as you answered, words met with the quick and overwhelming feeling of her tongue pressing flat against your wet center. You couldn’t think too hard about the fact she was doing this right now, not when the sharp gasp had come from two mouths instead of one, a quick call of, “Fuck,” from only you this time followed. Ellie had no words, not as her tongue made another long stripe up your pussy, going much slower than you liked. It led one small roll of your hips down into her, a sign for what you searched for.

It resulted in a hand gripping your hip, pressing you further down into the mattress, ceasing any attempt to control the movements. Her mouth pressed further into you, licking at the same excruciatingly slow pace, seemingly taking her time to enjoy the taste she found between your thighs. “El,” you gasp, eyes fluttering open to glance down at her. However her eyes were closed, another press further into you came, her nose bumping your clit as she licked into you. The rush it brings is almost enough to completely paint over the lingering cramping in your stomach.

The dizzying mixture of pain and pleasure seeps into your bones, making you feel too heavy to do much else than move a hand to find Eliie’s hair, fingers tangling between the auburn strands. You tried again to guide her movements, but she was much stronger than you, paying little mind to the shaky hand that tugged at her locks.

“Taste so fuckin..” she sucked in a breath, unable to keep from dipping back into your folds, humming. “So fuckin’ good,” she finishes, words reverberating against your throbbing core. It had you trying to squirm, held down by the stone light weight of Ellie’s grip. The deeper she licked, the more you fought against her. Your body ached the do something.. anything to find comfort in the overwhelming feeling of her still slow pace. The fingers in her hair tugged again, finding a low groan in response.

The air of the room had already been heavy on your feverish skin, but now it was nearing a state of unbearably humid. Every time Ellie’s tongue made a particularly aimed movement you felt another round of fire straight in the mess that was your clenching core. It all felt so heightened, so much better. The sticky feeling on your skin did not slow either of you down, and you had little care for the sweat beading on your flesh. Not when your favorite girl’s lips were doing such mind numbing things to you.

Had you told your past self, even that of just an hour ago, that you would have allowed it to happen.. They would have laughed in your heated face. The past version of you would have sworn up and down, prayed up to the mysterious sky, that this would never happen. But now- now you have no room for denial or regret. Your mind was becoming too cloudy to house thoughts of shame, questions of if this was right. Because it felt right. The slick sound of Ellie’s mouth against you sounded right, as did your little huffs and puffs that you couldn't hide. The cramps had subsided in tandem with the tightening band in you. But you needed more, and you were gone past a point of being embarrassed to ask for it.

“I need..” you try to speak, but Ellie’s lips wrapping around your clit is the cause of the death of the forming words. A jolt of your hips is one finally strong enough to rupture the heavy hold of the vampire’s hand. Your lame attempt at a command did not go unheard by Ellie, who for the first time since this began, pulled herself away from your cunt. Her eyes darted up, looking to meet your own. But you were far too focused on something else. Her lips were glassy with your wetness, which she licked without a second thought. But the usual clear sheen that you had been no stranger to seeing on her face was more of a rosy color, a stark reminder of the reason this had begun in the first place. The slight tint of red smeared onto her chin, across the corners of her mouth, and it was oh so addicting to see. You felt no lingering shame, no shiver of disgust. Instead it made you feel even more desperate to have her against you again, but first you had to listen to her speaking. “Need what, babe?”

The urge to simply shove her face right back into your cunt flipped through the pages of scenarios in your head, but the moonlight that painted the side of your lover’s face, illuminating the red paintbrush stroke of you, had you a little too separate to risk such a bratty action.

“I need more, El. Need to cum,” you manage to whine, one light push of her head to prove your point. Ellie dipped her head down again, pressing small kisses to your sticky inner thighs. “Just love taking my time with you,” she muttered, a few more pecks planted on you were a search for forgiveness, one you graciously accepted with a loud moan when the lips finally found your clit again.

Ellie seemed to take your beg to heart, the hand that held your hip slowly dipping between your thighs. Her searching fingers met just below her chin, one long digit sliding over your slit, teasing the weeping hole with a slight press. The air feels like it has been punched from your lungs when the finger sinks into you, just as evil as her mouth as it curls into you the exact moment her lips suck a little harder. You were sure she was looking to torture you with how slowly the finger pumped in and out, working and exploring around your walls that gripped around her so tightly.

You had always heard the mythical vampire was sadistic. Ellie had never been much of that, but with ever slow movement into your aching cunt, you began to believe the whispers. Your head turned lightly to stare at the open window, the stars that dipped in the night sky were surely spotlighting your body splayed out on the bed, the auburn haired vampire between your thighs was quite the show for all the celestial beings up in the night air, every single being held its breath and watched on, you were sure of it. You didn't blame the stars, or the moon, or whatever else may have their attention focused on this tantalizing sight. If you could, you would float right out of your body to watch on yourself.

Surely you looked a mess, chest heaving with the heat of the air, with the heat of Ellie. Your limbs shook just lightly, your fingers knotted your companions hair, the messy pile of clothes on the floor, the red that painted her cheeks. Surely it would make your cheek turn bashfully if you could see it. Maybe this was sinful. The little dip into your rushing thoughts is ended with the raspy tone of Ellie’s voice.

“Relax, bunny. Gotta relax for me,” Ellie cooed against you, a few more languid presses into your cunt causing you to finally loosen around her, coupled by the continuing ministrations from her mouth on your clit. Soone another finger joins the mix, the large fingers stretching you just right. She reaches spots that have you remembering the stars you had just seen behind the black of your squeezed shut eyes, a pathetic cry falling from your lips. This reaction only encourages her to continue, the pace of her suckles and thrusts into you speed up. It's harsher everytime she plunges into you, your hips moving lightly with the pure force.

“That’s my girl, there you go,” she compliments after a long moan, the words causing another clench around her fingers. You let out another string of incoherent whines and moans, grinding down into her messy face and fingers. Somewhere in the back of your mind you cursed yourself and Ellie for the certainly ruined bedspread under your ass, but it seems like the much smaller issue when you had *this* to focus on. You were nearing your peak, and it was no secret. Your grinds against Ellie became sloppy, ununiformed and more needy than before. No words could form on your tongue, only whimpers and unintelligible begs.

The vampire never lets up, curling her fingers, your walls clenching. her teeth grazed against your clit lightly enough to have you trembling, whining softly. She knows your body as well as you do, every small sign you were reaching the final moments before your world would explode. She knew what moves of her fingers would have your legs shaking, knew where to press, how hard to go. She was no stranger to making you cum, and she definitely was on the mission to make it happen now. Her free hand grips your thigh, pushing you even more impossibly open for her, fingers pressing into you harshly enough to draw another cry. She readjusts slightly, sinking even deeper into your folds. “C’mon,” Ellie whispers, the word slightly broken, shaky and pleading. Pleading as if she needed you to come as much as you did.

Maybe she did, because the moment your back arched, a near pornographic moan filling the heavy air, spilling out of the window and swirling against the peeping eyes of the stars and moon, she moaned with you. Her fingers still within you as you gushed around her, her lips still pressed to your clit. But as your thighs shook, she slid the fingers out and replaced them with her tongue again. The pink muscle flattened against your slit again like it had earlier, this time with no attempt at going slow.

If anything, she was ravenous. Every drop your pulsing center gifted her, she sucked down like she needed it, ignoring your desperate whines of overstimulation. You attempted lamely to press her head away with the hand still tangled in her scalp, but it was no use. The pleasure of her tongue was much too overwhelming to fight.

After a moment that felt like hours, she pulled away. Her tongue licked over her lips again, collecting the rosy colored cum from where it smudged there. Her eyes stayed on your own blinking irises as her fingers raised to her already messy lips. They were coated with the same mixture of red and clear shining wetness, and she sunk them into her mouth with a moan. The debautchary that took place in front of your eyes should have your stomach queasy, should have your legs closing and pressing far away from Ellie.

But of course it doesn't, instead you watch on with morbid curiosity, watching her tongue curl around her fingers, sucking the last bits of you, leaving a glistening layer of her own spit behind. She found no shame in this situation, no shame in drinking down evey single thing you would give her, so why should you?

“Fuck,” you breathe, eyes transfixed on the fingers as they fall from her lips and down to her lap, her eyes back on your own. She makes a move to crawl over you, arms locking you in from either side.

“Just got a taste of you bunny,” she mumbles, nudging her head into the crook of your neck.

Her lips pressed there, and this time you could feel her fangs under the plump fat of her lip. “Gonna let me have more?” she questioned.

Of course you would, of course you did. As you tilted your neck for her, the curtain to the side of you blew in the wind, and you closed your eyes.

“Yes.”

#vampire!ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x fem reader #ellie williams x f!reader #ellie williams smut

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jburrgf · 6 months ago

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About You II — The Love Trope Series

“Do you think I have forgotten about you?”

◦pairing: ¡lsu! joe burrow x ¡ex situashionship! reader

◦summary: second change trope, college relationships, slow burn love, right person wrong time.

◦description: after the dinner at Malone’s, your best friend and you go to the biggest party of the year, and there, you find out why you can’t forget Joe — at all.

◦playlist: About You - The 1975, Love Me Like You Do - Ellie Golding, Like Real People Do - Hoozier, I Bet You Think About Me - Taylor Swift, Called You Again - Lizzy McAlpine, Tolerate It, ImGonnaGetYouBack, Clean - Taylor Swift

PART TWO: ALL OVER ME

Joe and I didn’t happen overnight.

It was a slow burn, full of late-night conversations, stolen glances, and an undeniable pull neither of us could explain. He was juggling the pressures of being a star quarterback with the weight of expectations I couldn’t fully understand, and I was caught between wanting to be a part of his world and keeping my own identity intact.

We weren’t perfect. We fought. We drifted. We came back together, only to drift apart again. And then, months before graduation, Joe started pulling away for good.

I didn’t chase him.

And that was the end of it.

Or so I thought.

The faint hum of music and muffled voices filtered through the walls of our shared dorm as I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the pile of clothes Maddie had dumped on me earlier. A crop top, a leather skirt, and heeled boots that looked like they belonged on a runway rather than at a party in a dingy warehouse.

Maddie was pacing, a hair curler in one hand and a bottle of glittery body spray in the other, a force of nature in her pre-party ritual. She was dressed to perfection already, wearing a sequined halter top and ripped jeans that made her legs look a mile long.

The mirror in Maddie’s dorm room was barely big enough for one person, but tonight, we were making it work. Her makeup brushes, palettes, and lip glosses were spread across the desk like an arsenal, the tiny lamp casting a warm glow on the chaos.

“Y/N, come on,” Maddie groaned, holding up two options—a cropped black sequin top and a deep green halter. “Which one says, ‘I’m here to have fun but also break hearts’?”

I glanced up, her mind still clouded, offering a weak smile. “The green one, I guess.”

Maddie frowned, dropping the tops onto her bed and placing her hands on her hips. “Okay, what’s going on with you? This is the biggest party of the year, and you’re sitting there like we’re about to go to a funeral.”

“I’m fine,” I muttered, brushing her hair behind her ear. “Just tired.”

Truthfully, exhaustion wasn’t the problem. My chest felt heavy in a way I couldn’t explain—like I was carrying the weight of something I didn’t have the courage to admit. Joe. His name felt like a forbidden word, a ghost haunting the edges of my thoughts as Maddie flitted around the room, oblivious.

“Liar,” Maddie shot back, narrowing her eyes as she crossed the room to sit beside Y/N. “You’ve been weird all weekend. Let me guess…” She tilted her head, a knowing smirk spreading across her lips. “This is about him, isn’t it?”

The mention of his name made my stomach flip, but I kept my face carefully neutral. “This has nothing to do with him.”

“Bullshit,” Maddie said, nudging her shoulder. “I know you, Y/N. You’ve been moping around ever since Malone’s friday. Did something happen with Joe that you’re not telling me?” she said, rolling her eyes. “Look, I know he’s... complicated. But tonight isn’t about him. It’s about you having fun. Forget about the past. It’s just one party.”

“Exactly. Just one party,” I said, grabbing the crop top she’d picked for me and holding it up with skepticism. “And I’m not even sure I want to go.”

Maddie marched over, snatched the shirt from my hands, and tossed it on the bed. “Oh, you’re going. Whether I have to drag you kicking and screaming or not.”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. It wasn’t like I didn’t want to enjoy myself, but something in me felt heavy, like an anchor tied around my chest. Maddie didn’t need to know how often my mind drifted to Joe—how his face had been etched into my thoughts since that night at Malone’s, how his stupid note was still folded in my desk drawer.

“Y/N,” Maddie said, her voice softening as she sat beside me. “I know you miss him.”

I blinked, startled. “I didn’t say that.”

“You don’t have to,” she said, nudging me with her shoulder. “But trust me, wallowing isn’t going to help. You need to let loose, have a drink, and dance with someone who’s not Joe Burrow.”

I let out a dry laugh, shaking my head. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It is easy.”

I hesitated, my fingers tightening around the fabric of my jeans. “It’s… nothing happened. It’s just—ugh, I don’t even know, Maddie. I don’t want to talk about him.”

Maddie raised an eyebrow but didn’t push further. Instead, she stood, grabbed Y/N’s hands, and pulled her to her feet. “Okay, fine. No more Joe talk. But I’m not letting you go to this party looking like you just rolled out of bed.”

“You know i’m not thrilled about frat parties.” I said

“This isn’t just any frat party,” Maddie corrected, grabbing a curling iron and plugging it in. “It’s in the Kappa alumni barn. Do you know how hard it is to get invited to this? People are literally selling wristbands for $50 just to get in. We are elite, babe.”

“Lucky me,” I muttered under my breath.

”Come on, I’m going to pick out the perfect dress for you.” She threw open her closet, rifling through the racks of clothes like a woman on a mission. “We need something that says ‘I’m hot, but I don’t care if you notice.’”

“I was just going to wear jeans,” I offered weakly.

Maddie spun around, her expression scandalized. “Jeans? To this party? Y/N, we’re not freshmen anymore. This is senior year. Go big or go home.”

Before I could argue, she pulled out a sleek black dress with a subtle shimmer. It was simple, but the cut was flattering, and the fabric looked soft enough to melt into.

“This,” Maddie declared, holding it up like it was the Holy Grail.

I hesitated, glancing at my reflection. “I don’t know...”

“Trust me,” Maddie said, shoving the dress into my hands. “You’ll look amazing.”

With a reluctant sigh, I headed to the bathroom to change. The dress clung to my figure in all the right places, and when I stepped back into the bedroom, Maddie let out a low whistle.

“Y/N! You look... Wow. Just wow. Girl, if Joe doesn’t come crawling back to you after tonight, he’s an idiot.”

I finally turned to face my reflection, and to my surprise, I didn’t hate it. The dress hugged my figure in all the right places, and for the first time in weeks, I felt like maybe I could blend in tonight.

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my llips. “It’s not about Joe.”

“Sure, it’s not,” Maddie teased, returning to the mirror to finish her makeup. “Now, sit down. I’m doing your hair and makeup.”

As Maddie curled my hair, the mood in the room shifted slightly. The music softened, and for a moment, it felt like the old days—just us two, laughing and talking about nothing.

“Listen,” Maddie said, her tone gentler now. “I know you’re going through it, but you deserve to have fun tonight. Forget about him, or at least try to. This party is going to be amazing. Everyone’s been talking about it for weeks. The lights, the DJ, the whole vibe—it’s gonna be insane.”

I nodded, her chest tightening. Maddie was right. I needed to let go, even if just for one night. “You’re right. Let’s do this.”

Maddie grinned, placing the final curl in my hair and fluffing it out with her fingers. “Now that’s the spirit. Look at us—two bad bitches, ready to take on the world.”

I laughed, feeling a flicker of excitement for the first time that night. Maybe this party wouldn’t be so bad after all. Maybe I could forget about Joe, even if just for a few hours. Maddie got all the makeup things right in front of us, and started to do my makeup.

Hold still!” Maddie ordered, her hand steady as she worked on my eyeliner.

“I am holding still,” I mumbled, trying not to blink.

“You keep flinching every time I get close. Do you not trust me?” she teased, stepping back to inspect her work. “Did you know they rented an actual DJ for tonight? And there’s going to be this crazy light show. Plus, rumor has it the football team’s throwing in a ton of money for drinks and food. This is basically LSU’s version of Coachella.”

I hummed noncommittally, watching her in the mirror as she worked. Her excitement was contagious, even if I wasn’t quite ready to feel it yet.

“Y/N,” Maddie said after a moment, her tone more serious. “Promise me you’ll try to have fun tonight. For real.”

I met her gaze in the mirror and nodded. “I’ll try.”

She smiled, satisfied. “Good. Now, glitter or no glitter?”

“No glitter,” I said immediately.

Maddie rolled her eyes but relented, finishing my makeup with a swipe of lip gloss.

Maddie, of course, looked flawless in her emerald green romper and heels, her hair styled in loose waves that framed her face. She had a way of commanding attention without even trying, and tonight was no exception.

“You’re stunning,” I said honestly.

“So are you,” she replied, grabbing her phone to snap a picture of us. “Okay, let’s take a pre-party selfie. Smile!”

I forced a grin, but even as the camera clicked, I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“You’re thinking too much,” Maddie said, catching my expression.

“I’m not,” I lied.

She rolled her eyes, grabbing her purse. “Come on. Let’s get out of here before you change your mind.”

By the time we were both ready, the campus was already buzzing with energy. The party was being held in an old warehouse on the edge of campus, the kind of space that was only used for events like this—loud, chaotic, and slightly dangerous.

As we stepped outside, the cool evening air hit my skin, and for the first time all day, I felt a flicker of anticipation. Maddie looped her arm through mine, grinning.

“Trust me, Y/N,” she said as we made our way toward the warehouse. “Tonight’s going to be unforgettable.”

The walk to the party was electric. The campus buzzed with excitement, groups of students streaming toward the barn like moths to a flame. Maddie chatted nonstop, filling the silence with stories and jokes that I barely registered.

But as we approached the barn, the music growing louder with each step, I couldn’t ignore the way my heart began to race. Part of me hoped Joe wouldn’t be there.

And another part of me—a part I hated—hoped he would.

[…]

I caved, mostly because Maddie was impossible to argue with, and by the time we arrived at the warehouse, I was already questioning my decision. The music was loud, the drinks were cheap, and the place was packed with bodies moving to a beat I couldn’t place.

It was an underground-style party. Everyone was wearing colorful, fluorescent paints, and the music had heavy beats. It was a fraternity party, but it wasn't at a house. Everything took place in a warehouse, surrounded by a parking lot that was already full when we arrived.

“Loosen up,” Maddie said when we got out of her car and were walking through the parking lot, heading to the party entrance. My friend showed something on her phone to someone, and we went in.

She dragged me toward the makeshift bar. “Come on, Y/N, I know why you're like this. But remember, we have to have fun, right?” she said, shaking my shoulders from side to side as electronic music played.

I rolled my eyes, letting out a small smile because the beat of the music was really contagious.

“Alright, but I’m not going to drink much!”

“I love you!” And that was what Maddie said before dragging me to the fraternity's makeshift bar, preparing something for me to drink.

I downed a few shots, one after the other, laughing and speaking loudly as people came over to greet us. I danced to a few songs with Maddie, swaying from side to side.I felt the urge to go to the bathroom, so I asked her to wait for me close to the bar. I started walking, looking for something like a bathroom, being careful not to open doors to already occupied rooms.

I found an empty bathroom at the beginning of one of the hallways. I fixed my makeup, washed my hands, and got ready to leave. I closed the door behind me, starting to walk down the hallway.

When I returned to the party, the music was louder, and people were dancing more. By that time of the night, the bar was even more crowded than usual, signaling that the party had reached its peak.

I tried to. I really did. But I wasn’t a natural at these things, and it wasn’t until I stepped outside onto the quieter patio that I felt like I could breathe again. I walked out of the warehouse, exiting through makeshift tarp doors. Outside, in the back, there was an Olympic-sized pool, illuminated and filled with inflatable balls.

The air outside was cool against my flushed skin, the sounds of the party muffled behind the thick metal doors of the warehouse-turned-dancefloor. I leaned against the railing near the Olympic-sized pool, my chest rising and falling as I tried to steady myself.

The stillness of the pool was a welcome contrast to the pulsing energy inside. Its surface reflected the night sky, fractured by the faint ripples of the water, and for a brief moment, I felt at peace.

“Finally found you!” Maddie shouted from afar, stepping out of the warehouse with a red cup in hand. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah… it just got way too crowded all of a sudden.”

“Yep, it’s about time for us to head out.” She patted my back, as if she knew me well enough to understand exactly how I was feeling.

The bass of the music hit me like a wave as soon as I stepped through the doors, the lights swirling in hypnotic patterns that danced across the crowd. The air was thick with heat and the mingling scents of sweat and cologne, and I almost turned back around.

I tugged at the hem of my dress, suddenly feeling too exposed in the sea of intoxicated strangers. Maddie was nowhere to be seen— I lost her when I got back inside. I should’ve texted her to meet me outside, but I didn't want to ruin her night.

The overhead lights twisted and flickered in a kaleidoscope of colors, casting long shadows that danced across the packed room. People swayed and spun to the beat of a song I didn’t recognize, the energy electric and wild.

And then it happened.

The opening chords of Innerbloom by RÜFÜS DU SOL floated through the speakers, and it was like the entire atmosphere shifted. The crowd slowed, their movements taking on a dreamlike quality as the tempo of the song washed over the room.

That’s when I saw him.

Joe.

He was standing near the edge of the dancefloor, just beyond the reach of the flashing lights. His blond hair caught the faint glow of the strobe, his tall frame relaxed yet commanding as he talked to someone I didn’t recognize. But it wasn’t the way he stood or the casual confidence in his posture that froze me in place. It was his eyes.

Because, as if sensing me, he looked up—and our eyes met.

Everything else faded.

For a second, I thought I was imagining it.

It was instant, like a magnetic pull I couldn’t fight even if I wanted to. The room, the music, the crowd—all of it faded away. All I could focus on was him.

Why does it always feel like this?

The way he looked at me was almost unbearable—like he’d been waiting for this moment as much as I had dreaded it. His gaze was steady, unflinching, and for a second, I thought he might come toward me.

But he didn’t move. Neither did I.

My breath caught in my throat. We just stared at each other, the space between us suddenly feeling both infinite and too small.

I wanted to run. I wanted to stay.

The flicker of the lights seemed to sync with the thrum of my heartbeat as he started walking toward me. Everything was in slow motion—the sway of his body, the way his hands slid casually into the pockets of his jeans, the way his jaw tightened when our eyes locked again.

The music, the crowd, the swirling lights—it all blurred into the background, like the universe itself had tilted to make room for this one moment.

*If you want me, if you need me... I'm yours.*

The words felt like a taunt, an echo of everything I hadn’t allowed myself to admit.

Joe’s gaze held mine, steady and unyielding, as though he could see every thought racing through my mind. His expression was unreadable—calm, almost curious—but his eyes told a different story. They were searching, pulling me in, and suddenly the space between us felt both infinite and far too small.

I couldn’t move. My feet were rooted to the ground, my pulse hammering in my ears as the world seemed to slow to a crawl.

He took a step forward.

The lights shifted, casting his face in shadow, and for a second, I thought I might faint. My breath hitched, and I gripped the edge of a nearby table to steady myself.

Another step.

The crowd parted like water around him, the sea of bodies moving in rhythm with the music but leaving him untouched. It felt unreal, like a scene from a movie, the kind you tell yourself could never happen in real life.

But it was happening.

And then he was in front of me.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice low, almost lost in the swell of the music. But I heard it. God, I felt it.

“Joe.” My voice came out softer than I intended, almost shaky.

Neither of us said anything for a moment. The room seemed to spin around us, the world a blur of light and sound, but we were still. Anchored.

“You came,” he finally said, his lips curling into the faintest hint of a smile.

“You called.”

He tilted his head slightly, studying me in that way he always did, like he could see straight through every wall I’d put up. “I wasn’t sure if you would.”

Why did he have to be here? Why did he have to look at me like that? Like he was still holding onto something I’d been trying so hard to let go of.

The muffled beat of the music reached me even out here, but it was quieter now, easier to ignore. I closed my eyes, focusing on my breathing.

But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake the image of Joe—his face, his voice, the way he said my name. It lingered like a ghost, refusing to let me be.

“Neither was I,” I admitted, my voice barely audible.

Another beat of silence passed, heavy and charged. His gaze flickered down to my lips for a fraction of a second, and my stomach flipped.

The song swelled, the lyrics a haunting echo in the background: If you want me, if you need me, I’m yours

The silence stretched between us, filled only by the song and the pounding of my heart. I didn’t know what to say, what to do. All I could do was look at him, and all he could do was look at me, like we were the only two people in the room.

Something flickered in his eyes—relief, maybe, or something deeper. He stepped closer, and I felt the warmth of him, the faint scent of his cologne mixing with the humid air of the warehouse.

The words hung between us, heavy and unspoken truths laced beneath them. I wanted to ask him why he cared, why he’d left that note, why he was standing here now, looking at me like I was the only thing that mattered. But I couldn’t.

The music swelled, the lyrics wrapping around us like a cocoon.

“I’m glad you did.”

The music swelled, the lyrics wrapping around us like a cocoon.

It felt like the universe was holding its breath, waiting for one of us to make the next move.

And then, without thinking, I took a step closer.

“Joe,” I said again, my voice steadier this time.

“Y/N…” His voice was barely a whisper now, lost beneath the music but somehow still clear as day.

For a moment, neither of us moved, the world narrowing down to just us.

And then someone bumped into me, breaking the spell. I stumbled, and Joe’s hand shot out, steadying me with an ease that made my stomach flip.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his brow furrowing in concern.

I nodded, my cheeks flushing. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

But I wasn’t fine. Not even close. Because standing this close to him, feeling his hand on my arm, hearing the way he said my name—it was all too much.

And yet, I didn’t want it to end.

He held out his hand. “I…”

“I can’t do this, Joe. I have to go,” I said, finally creating some distance between us. I walked out of the warehouse, but I knew he was following me.

“CAN YOU STOP?”

He froze, started, coming to an abrupt halt behind me. Even in the dark, I could tell he was looking at me with shock. I could see the way he looked at me, and it made me feel nauseous. Not because I didn’t like it, but because I missed it. God, I missed it so much.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he said, and I could feel the honesty in his voice eating away at me.

“You haven’t talked to me in months, and I’m not going to let you do to me what you’ve done before,” I said, stepping further away. “You forgot about me, Joe. Completely. You pushed me away, and now, I don’t want to come back. Just… stay away.”

Maddie came running after Joe soon after. With a confused expression, she purposely bumped into his shoulder as she walked past him toward me.

“Let’s go, Y/N,” my friend said, still shooting side-eyes at Joe, who stood there frozen. “Leave her alone, Joe. She doesn’t need you anymore.”

Maddie grabbed my hand and started walking with me through the parking lot. I got into the passenger seat, still dazed. It had been almost seven months, and that was the first time he had spoken to me.

When I looked in the rearview mirror, he was still standing there, in the middle of the street.

I knew I would see him again. I just didn’t want to believe it.

#joe burrow #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow fan fic #joeburrow #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow fluff #joe burrow x reader #bengals #joe burrow angst

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ode-to-melpomene · 8 months ago

Note

hello mel!!! your jason todd x artist! reader is a real gem, so delicious i think i would like to eat it!!! could i possible request a jason todd x famous poet!reader?

Anon, you get me.

I struggled a bit with the plot for this one, but I hope you like it regardless <3

Erato

Pairing: Jason Todd x gn poet!reader Synopsis: Jason convinces you to take a break. Word Count: 1281. Warnings: Established relationship and fluff!

The living room was dark.

Blanketed in shadows, Red Hood stepped off the fire escape and into the apartment. Muscles taut, shoulders squared, jaw clenched tight beneath his helmet, he stalked with a panther’s grace through the shadows. Light on the balls of his feet, his heavy boots hardly made a sound against the floorboards of the creaky old Gotham apartment.

Red Hood kept his hand hovering inches from the gun on his waist as he stepped warily around the furniture. The white film obscuring his eyes trailed over the lamp atop an end table beside the familiar orange chaise sofa.

Something wasn’t right. It was so dark.

Filling the shadows with his presence, Red Hood slunk down the hallway. His broad figure filled the space, looming in the narrow hallway like a beast waiting to lunge from the darkness. His skin crawled with a sense of wrong, wrong, wrong. His teeth inched to sink into something. The scent of copper and gunpowder clung to his body armor, suffocating him as he inhaled it with each breath. His hackles rose.

There, at the end of the hall. The tiniest sliver of pale light filtered through the crack of an ajar door. Red Hood’s fingers twitched beside his gun, itching to reach for the grip that he knew fit so comfortably in the palm of his leather-clad hands.

Said hands, dirty and tainted, slid across the sage green surface of the door. Claws curled around the edge of the door, sliding through the gap. He inhaled deeply, a rumble like a growl deep in his chest as he steeled himself. Something was wrong, wrong wrong-

Red Hood pushed the door open and hovered in the doorway. A hulking, heaving, monstrous figure doused in oil-slick darkness that filled the entire threshold. Sharp eyes and predatory teeth staring down at-

You.

Your eyes jerked away from the dimly lit laptop screen on your desk and landed on the shadowed figure looming at the entrance to your home office.

“You didn’t leave the lamp on,” Red Hood gruffed, his fist clenching and unclenching at his side. You always left the lamp on.

Your eyes widened as you glanced around the dimly lit room, the blackout curtains drawn. “What time is it?” you demanded with a breathy sense of panicked realization.

“Three in the morning,” Jason breathed a sigh of relief and sagged against the doorway. “Scared me, angel. Thought somethin’ might have happened.” His gloved hands reached for his helmet, dragging the metal from his skin with a satisfied exhale. He rolled his head on his neck, stretching the aching muscles. “What are you still doing up?”

“Finally found a groove,” you replied, your gaze again fixed on the dim screen. Your fingers hastened over keys with a swiftness he hadn’t seen in days. He had grown used to the sluggish drawl and frustrated taps, your dramatic grumblings begging for inspiration to strike. “If I stop now, I- I’ve gotta get this done before-”

“The end of the week,” he finished, an exhausted, lopsided grin rising on his lips. He lifted a gloved hand to swipe sweaty hair from his skin. “How many have you written tonight?”

“Six,” you answered quickly, fingers pausing over the keys. The sound of heavy boots crossing the floor drew your attention and you found yourself staring up at Jason as he leaned forward and planted one hand on the desk. His helmet thudded onto the desk next to your hand. Your eyes met his, lips parting slightly at the curious expression he wore.

Jason always seemed like a statue to you. Strong, immovable, broad. Your eyes grazed over the scrawling scuffs and scratches of his suit that spiraled like vines climbing over his marble surface. The red highlights of his armor like maroon clematis, blossoming from the vines that held him together-

“Might have an idea for a seventh poem,” you began as you turned back towards your computer. Your breath hitched at the feeling of leather sliding up your throat and stopping to cup your jaw. Jason’s fingers curled slightly as he turned your head to meet his gaze again.

“When was the last time you took a break?”

“Um…” your tongue felt useless in your mouth as you stared up at him with wide eyes. Green eyes gleamed back at you, brows pinched together in a subtle scowl. Your stare roved over his face–the subtle crook of his nose, twice broken, and the thin scar tracing from his jaw to his cheek, and the wisp of sweat-damp black and silver hair that stuck to his forehead. “Probably… noon?”

Jason sighed. “C’mon, up.”

“Jay-”

“Up,” he prompted, hauling you up from your chair. Your palms flattened to his armored chest as you sought to stabilize yourself. Your fingers fanned out wide against the red sigil scrawled across his chest, then slid down to rest over his ribs. Jason hummed appreciatively and looped one arm around your waist, the other cupping your cheek. “Take a break with me, yeah? Know you need to get this done-”

“- I’ve got the book signing next week, and I need to have my draft turned in to my editor before then-”

“- But you’ll be no good to anyone strung out and exhausted.” Your cheeks warmed and you cast your eyes down. Your hands drifted back to the vibrant symbol across his chest. He was right, of course–he knew better than most how important it was to avoid being overworked… not that he heeded his own advice very often.

You jumped from your thoughts when his gloved hand closed around your wrist. You felt a pop from between your teeth and your gaze shot down to where he pulled your hand from your mouth, nail slightly torn. Oh. You were doing it again, and you hadn’t even noticed.

Jason brought your hand to his lips and laid a kiss on your palm, then trailed down and placed another on your wrist. It was like butterflies gracing your skin. His hands were strong as oak as he tugged you tighter against him-

“Yuck,” you said, jumping as he kissed your forearm and his wet, sweaty hair brushed your skin. You wrinkled your nose in disgust. He chuckled when you tried to pull your arm away.

A squeal escaped your lips when he buried his face in the crook of your neck. You squirmed at the ticklish feeling of Jason pressing open-mouthed kisses to your skin, dragging his damp face against your dry skin. “Jason! Gross!”

You groaned in disgust at the feeling of his damp hair dappling your skin. Your hands pushed at his shoulders, but his arms just pulled you tighter against him. There was no escape from the torment, and you whined pitifully in protest. He returned your frustration with a huffy laugh against your shoulder.

“You’re the worst.”

Jason grinned a crooked smile against your skin as his gloved hand slid into your hair and cradled your head against his chest. “C’mon, take a shower with me. Save some water. I can make dinner after, and we can eat in here while you wrap up.” He pulled away, his hair mussed as he gazed at you with a gentle expression. When he leaned in again it was to press barely there kisses to your jaw, your cheek, your temple, and back down. “Take a break with me.”

Your eyes fluttered shut as a content sigh left your lips. Your eyes felt heavy under his ministrations and you finally acknowledged the weary ache in your bones. You hummed quietly, a wordless reply to his request.

You could spare thirty minutes.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #red hood

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aggieharkness · 3 months ago

Text

Kneel and please me

Pairing: Lilia Calderu x reader

Summary: The instant you walked through the doors of Dr. Lilia Calderu's office, your entire world shifted. There could never be sleepless nights again, or empty bottles of alcohol, because your life was now filled with her. Hours of the day spent with her and for her. The instant the doors closed, you were Lilia's to explore.

Warnings: therapy, implied self harm, implied abuse, reference to bondage, reference to spanking, not fully Dom/Sub it might become that, sexual fantasies, lingerie, dubious consent, blood mentioned, fantasizing about biting, masochism, psychology, implied alcohol consumption, boobs almost in full on display, hints and dashes of fluff, implied PTSD, non magic AU

Author's note: I have risen from the dead!!! I bring you a new fic that has been created between @p2pecleanerwitheyes and me. The story's sexual tension can be felt from three hundred miles away 😈😈 I hope that you all like it and as always, be gentle but tell me if I need to be more graphic, if I'm lacking in something. I am here for you, my dear people, I listen. I also accept ideas and suggestions that you might have. Also available on Ao3. Finally, let's thank Patti Lupone for giving us Lilia Calderu, and Jac for writing her so beautifully.

Shoutout to @bravewithacapitalb for being my beta reader. I LOVE MY WIFE!!!!! ❤️❤️❤️

Word count: 16K (No comments your honor)

I ache for the touch of your lips, dear

It was a warm, sunny day, a gentle breeze swaying between the trees that were planted on the pavement, increased only by the moving cars that every once in a while, drove past you, the motors roaring loudly for a moment or two before vanishing, the only sounds left being your own breath and the birds chirping gleefully. There was not a single could in the sky, its baby blue shade crisp and pristine high above, unreachable, untouchable, but it was of no matter to you, there had never been a desire to reach the limits of the atmosphere, only the visceral need to run away from this world and float in the vast darkness of space. In your eyes everything was seeing through a black and white filter, as if nothing could stand out, as if the world had lost all its colour, but in truth you were just afraid of falling in love with it all over again and then being abandoned, suffering each day as if there was nothing else you would rather do. From a tree a small green leaf fell, swirling like a ballet dancer as she made pirouette after pirouette, coming to rest by your feet, barely touching your black boots over the dirty cobblestones, and as sad as it was to see its bright green shade ripped from the branch it belonged to the world hadn’t stopped turning. The sun was still bathing and warming the street, the songs that filled the silence that never ceased as a few butterflies and bees roamed lazily among the flowers blooming late in the season. Your gaze lingered on the leaf for an instant, your body rigid under your thin black jacket as you watched feeling as if you were the one on the ground and not the other way around.

It was nothing in truth, just a leaf on the ground, unimportant, small and that would soon rot until there was nothing left of it, as if it had never existed, it’s thin white veins shinning under the blaring sun, the smooth edges slightly bitten and broken in certain parts, like the cracks that had begun to rise to the surface, slicing through that façade you always wore as if it was silk, ripping and letting small glimpses of your small person through. You had worked so hard to keep that part of you hidden only for it all to crumble at your feet with one swift blow. After a few moments of staring at the plant, the street completely empty, a rare occurrence, you began to walk again, moving past the leaf and leaving it behind, an infinitesimal part of you staying right beside it. Your steps were slow, unsure, over the pavement, stepping over puddles and cigarette butts, wishing you could run away from the inevitable that was coming here and hide in your apartment until your body became ashes, rotting hoping there would be no trace of you left behind. You wanted to be that leaf so bad. Up until last week you thought you had had everything under control, every aspect of your life; your past, present and future laid perfectly before you as if you could pick and choose what parts to keep and which ones to throw away but it was obvious that could never be the case. Walking past an empty coffee shop, your eyes traced the words written in white marker on the glass, drinks and prices glinting against the dim lights that shone inside the establishment, before moving to observe your left hand where a big, white bandage protected a deep wound that you had inflicted upon your own palm not that long ago. The blood that had stained your fingers that night told a different story from the one you had wanted people to believe.

It had been an accident, you and your friend knew that, but at the same time it had served as a way for you to see that the world you had created, that perfect life you were so desperate for people to see was nothing but smoke that hid a burnt body amongst roaring and scorching flames, scabs and pestering blisters oozing from your skin, each memory as painful now as they had been when they had first formed, covering your flesh to the point that you could no longer see where you began and where the terrors ended. The sound of the broken bottle against your kitchen counter still echoed in your mind, sharp and loud as if even the noise could slice through your skin all over again, the smell of your blood hitting your nostrils as if it was still there, coating your skin even if there was no longer a source from which it could drip onto your trousers and tiled floors, a leftover sign of the horrors that you could have committed that night if your friend had not been there to stop you.

Eleven stiches held your rosy skin together, tight and itchy, but it was a price you were willing to pay. That night she had come over to see you, bringing a bottle of wine and some takeaway as you had not gone to work and had refused to answer anyone’s messages, preferring to bask in your own self-deprecating cycle that had begun as soon as you had opened your eyes. You knew, even now, that your reactions had been disproportionate and that you should not have spoken to your friend in such a way, but you hadn’t been in a good place and even her breathing had irritated you. Every time you remembered the harsh words you had spoken to her guilt and shame filled your every cell, but you could not erase what had happened, you could not take it back. In rage and anger as you had been arguing with your friend you had picked up the empty wine bottle and had almost smashed it on her head as she called you out on all of your bullshit, all those disastrous moments and terrifying voices that lingered in the back of your head facing you as she yelled, as she told you the truth.

If it had not been for your drunken state in which your balance made your feet stumble, you might have seriously injured her. Instead, you were the one left in pain and crying as you bleed, as the glass cut through your skin like it was butter from where it had rested on the counter. After that incident there had been no other option but to face your demons. Minutes clocked slowly as the address your friend had provided for you appeared within your range of vision, tall and dressed in black metal and bricks, decorated with what seemed to be thousands of small patterns carved over the metal, flowers, baroque motives, anything really that your eyes could observe, big, tall windows letting the light of day inside each apartment. You had never known Eastview had buildings like this. It had always seemed like such a New York touch with all of its Art Novoa architecture, maybe even something one would find in Chicago, but you had obviously been proven wrong as it stood before you in all its glory and over a hundred years of history hiding beneath each brick and pillar. You had to check the address on your phone three times before your brain accepted the idea that this was the right place and with trembling limbs you made your way to the big iron doors, seeing through the glass a vast sea of white, beauty and elegance meeting your gaze even before you had stepped into the building.

With dread and a hint of curiosity you pushed them open and all the warmth that had been caressing your skin as you walked here vanished in between what seemed to be miles of cold marble tiles of a pristine white, and tall walls dressed in deep oaks where breathtaking murals of forests and coasts contrasted beautifully with the simpleness of the floors. You could not say that you had ever seen such a thing in your life, much less in your own city, but alas here you were, standing over materials that cost more than your entire salary, let alone your whole family’s combined. You knew you were staring dumbfounded, mouth slightly agape, but you could not find it in you to care, a grandiose staircase of wooden railings and carpeted stairs standing before you as your feet worked of their accord, walking away from the doors and advancing deep into the building as if the world outside existed no more. It almost made you forget the whole reason why you were there in the first place, eyes raking over every mural, every window and pillar you could find. There was no reasoning behind why your friend had suggested coming to this woman, at least not one that made sense to you as her sole description of this stranger had been “stone cold bitch”, but to a certain extent you trusted her and even if things had not worked out for her it didn’t mean they could not work out for you. It was obvious to anyone with eyes on their face and at least a bit of common sense that you needed help but in the back of your mind you were still unsure if this woman would be the one to do so after countless failed attempts with many other therapists.

Her name had fallen from your lips the night you had made up your mind to make an appointment, the perfect calligraphy in which it was written on a business card along with an email and a phone number, calling out to you in a way that you could not comprehend. Lilia Calderu was a well-respected woman in this town, a doctor that no one could say a bad thing about and yet you had not been able to find a single trace of her on the internet, not even a review on some shady website. Nothing. And that scared you but at the same time made you wonder why the secrecy? If she was as good as you had heard, wouldn’t it be better for her to have some sort of profile out there for people to see? This woman you had never laid eyes on was perhaps the most mysterious person you would ever encounter in your life but you liked the challenge, the questions that had inevitably formed in your mind as the days went by, the appointed time getting closer and closer, filling your chest with a sense of trepidation that mixed unexpectedly with the curiosity and expectancy of meeting her. You hadn’t even been able to find a picture, not even a glimpse of her in some photograph. Would she be pretty? You knew it was wrong to ask yourself that but how could you not when not even your friend would describe her to you. The only thing she had said was that she had extremely expressive eyes. What did that even mean? With each step you took as you walked up the stairs left an loop of echoes that seemed to float all around you, banging against the walls and spiralling up the air towards the upper floors as if there was no ceiling. Perhaps there was none, you thought, taking a moment to bend over the wooden banister, it’s complex swirls and figurines carved down to the smallest detail, to look up only to find that instead of the usual plastered grey ceilings you were used to, there was immaculate glass over your head.

Through each square the baby blue sky was perfectly visible, allowing the soft, gentle rays of sunshine to come through without a fight, glistening against small stained-glass windows that laid scattered across the landings of each floor, creating a mosaic of rainbows and shaped that made a most beautiful, and ever changing, a carpet appear under your feet, more delicate and expensive that any Persian material ever could be. With one long sigh your feet stepped onto the second floor at last, your heart hammering slightly against your ribs in anxiety and due to the effort, hands shaking as you turned towards a big oak door where a plaque, in what you assumed was some sort of metal, like bronze, read “Dr. Lilia Calderu. Therapist”. Straightforward, you thought, after all there was no need to make people wonder if they were at the right place, though you were sure most of the people who walked into this building came to see her. Just as you were about to lift your arm to knock on the door you found that your body was frozen on the spot, fear and anxiety filling up every pore, keeping your limbs glued to the side of your trembling frame as if you had no control over them, lead replacing each cell to keep you from knocking, a living statue made of flesh in between the cold splendour of gold, wood and marble.

The same thing had happened hours ago when you had been getting ready, your clothes sprawled over the covers of your unmade bed. Your gaze had been fixed upon the screen of your phone, the remainder of the appointment making the device vibrate in your hand, but you hadn’t been able to dismiss it for a good five minutes as your mind had begun to wonder once more. You had been so angry, so upset at yourself for not keeping everything bottled up that night the way you always did, for listening to her, for knowing that you were hurting yourself and everyone around you to the point that you had been unable to leave your own home. You had been too deep in your own head for years but now there would always be the dull pain on your hand to remind you of what could have transpired that night. The thought, the ache on your flesh and within your soul, had been more than enough for you to draw out a defeated sigh from deep inside your chest as a silent tear slid down your cheek.

For an entire week you had done nothing but ask yourself why thing couldn’t have remained the same, why couldn’t everything have just vanished so you could carry on with life as if your past had never happened, as if the terrors and flashbacks weren’t a constant thing for you, every memory, every scream repeating itself on a loop in the back of your head. It had taken you far too long to learn how to live with every image playing like a film behind closed eyes when you went to sleep and to wake up with their voices ringing in your ears only to take a thousand steps back because you had listened. It was barely ten in the morning and you were so tired already, as if you could crawl back into bed and stay hidden under the covers forever, but you had made the journey, you were standing with only a door separating you from this stranger, maybe even only a wall and a few feet keeping you from her, so you could not back down now. Your index finger bent slightly as you pressed the doorbell, a shrill sound drilling into your skull for a second or two, the noise making you grimace, nose scrunched as your eyes fluttered closed for an instant, but you had no time to mentally complain when the creaking of the heavy wood filled the space, pulling you from your momentary suffering.

A short woman of Asian descent and straight black hair was standing between you and the room, her eyes dark but smiling just as much as her rosy lips were, a bold black and orange eyeliner complementing her features. She did not ask you what you were doing there, simply looked at you and stepped aside almost as if she had been expecting you, which to be fair she probably had been, for as you set foot inside the apartment you saw her walk over to a black desk where several binders, pens and a computer rested. She must be some sort of secretary or receptionist, you thought, the girl returning to her work as if you hadn’t just disturbed it. It gave you the chance to look around the pristine room, white smooth walls decorated with abstract paintings that to you seemed more like just lines than actual meaningful works of art, picking up on the very few pieces that actually resembled some sort of small coastal village with vibrant blue waves and delicate white villas scattered around the edge of the beach. It was a contrast that you did not know how to interpret, not that you were going to or had the mental capability of doing so right now when you could feel your heart pumping harshly against your ribs, your veins throbbing under your skin as anxiety built. The feeling wasn’t foreign, but it was more intense, as if this time not knowing who was behind the big set of double dark doors was actually bringing forth a touch of fear, a need to be prepared for whatever you were about to encounter.

It was that mix of anticipation and terror that one gets when you were riding a rollercoaster, just when you had reached the peak and were about to witness the fall. Glancing at the screen on your phone, the wallpaper of a Broadway diva you had fallen in love with after seeing a very old, and positively microwaved video of her performing “Evita” on YouTube, glowing before your eyes as you read the time. Only five minutes to spare, not too bad, you thought, the sound of your heeled boots muffled by a greyish carpet that covered up hardwood floors, the sound of quiet voices breaking the silence that had settled once more inside the apartment every once in a while. The hard plastic and metal chairs you were used to had been changed over to comfortable black leather armchairs that looked either relatively unused or brand new, a couple of coffee tables separating them with magazines neatly arranged on top of the glass. If things turned out okay with this new therapist you might take some time to read through a couple of them, but only if things played in your favour and she didn’t either throw you out or you decided not to come back, things that, much to your dismay had happened before. Just as your fingers were about to touch the cool material of the closest seat to you the doors opened up and a tall woman with piercing blue eyes and long dark hair stormed out, scoffing and muttering to herself, her purple jacket and black pants fitting her form as if they had been tailored. Perhaps they had been if the way she tossed two hundred bucks towards the receptionist was anything to go by, talking with her about how she wanted the same day and time for next week.

Stunned and curious your eyes remained glued to this woman, noticing from the corner of your eyes a figure moving inside the next room before the doors closed. Whoever this lady in purple was she held power and a touch of rebellion falling off the edges, and at some point she must have noticed that someone was watching her because as she finished her transaction her head turned to look at you over her shoulder. Her eyes were bluer than you had previously thought, but they weren’t any less dangerous as she eyed you dismissively before taking her appointment reminder and the bill and walking towards the front door. Mahogany with a few hints of bergamot embraced your form as she walked past you, her tall and slender frame towering over you, a smirk on her lips as she noticed the way your breath hitched slightly but she made no attempt to even share a word, simply strutted with confidence towards the exit, throwing one last glance at you as if she was assessing you, an eyebrow raised in curiosity before the hallway swallowed her and you were left alone with the receptionist once again. You had no idea who that woman was but she sure as hell was intimidating. Breaking the spell the young girl that had just been talking with that gorgeous devil spoke loudly to tell you that you could go in, that Dr. Calderu was ready for you, and with a shaky breath, the perfume of that stranger fading slightly, you nodded and began to walk towards the other room. If there had been even a slight possibility of you running away it had vanished completely now.

In an attempt to seem respectful, you knocked on the door, a single “Come in” answering, though the voice was slightly distorted by the wood. It surprised you the sheer amount of that material that seemed to dress the entire building. The hinges were well oiled and made no noise whatsoever as you pushed it open, slighter than you had anticipated, eyes raking all over the office. The hardwood floors weren’t hidden by expensive carpets here, massive windows let the outline of the city through along with the sight of birds and insects that rested over the sills and edges to bathe under the warm sunlight, the atmosphere inside the room was calm and quiet. The walls were still white but the art here was different, simpler, and more detailed, like an expression or even an extension of the woman who owned this placed, making it her own and telling a story that you doubted many people had asked about. Diplomas and certifications hung by the doors, your eyes darting between each paper as it clicked shut, trapping you with a complete stranger, making you feel like a caged animal that had no chance of escaping, but as your eyes followed the painting on the back wall, a copy of “The Three Graces” by Rubens, presiding over a cherry wood desk that was obviously unused, the feeling faded. In the middle of the room, overpowering the atmosphere with confidence and dominating the session sat a mature woman, though perhaps woman was not the right word to use. It seemed too small, too weak and lacking in sentiment as you observed her for an instant.

Peppery curls covered her face partially, ringlets that bounced gently with each small movement of her head, messy and piled on top of her head by what you assumed was a claw clip, a hint of its edges coming through the wild waves. Your fingers twitched in need to trace the pads of your tips over her profile, following the curve of her long nose where a pair of black glasses rested, though they were placed too low for her to be seeing through them and rather over them, perfectly sculpted cheekbones peeking through the white curls that framed her rosy skin. It was impossible not to trace the length of her exposed neck with your eyes, but your trip down Lilia Calderu’s body was cut short suddenly by the woman in question, almost as if she had known what you were doing. Lilia looked up from her notebook, red pen in between her cherry lips, leaving carmine marks over the metal as you stepped inside the room, a whiff of an unknown perfume filling your lungs, making you forget all about the woman in purple. It was a mix of something musky, a touch of amber floral and a hint of a certain sweetness that seemed to fit with the way Lilia’s eyes watched you. Your friend had not been kidding when she told you that the woman possessed extremely expressive eyes. It was as if thick Madagascar vanilla was dripping lazily on your tongue, knocking your senses off for an instant as you took her in, feeling the way her gaze stripped you down to your very soul and you hadn’t even spoken a word in her direction. They were drawing you in, but she did not leave you time to think about anything else before her velvety voice, deep raspy tones bathing her words, spoke into the room.

-Sit.

I’m sat ma’am, was the first thought that crossed your mind, clumsily making your way towards the long light grey couch that rested opposite her chair, cushions scattered over the soft fabric in gentle sage tones half covering a mustard throw that had been neatly placed over the back. Lilia’s eyes were glued to your form as you placed your bag beside you and took of your jacket, finally taking your right place before her, seeing her properly for the first time. You had not been aware but Lilia, observant of every single detail that happened in that room, saw the way your breath hitched slightly in your lungs, the way your eyes widened ever so slightly as soon as you took one proper look at her, the instant your pupils dilated just a millimetre. She had seen that reaction so many times, mostly with men if she was honest, their gazes assessing her as if she was meat, as if by the end of the session there would be a happy ending, and once or twice she had had to cancel sessions of thrown people out because of their unwanted advances, but the way you observed her was completely different. There was a hint of lust deep withing your eyes, she had picked it up the moment she had lifted her head from her notebook, your berry perfume caressing her cheeks as she inhaled it, sweet and slightly sharp on its undertones, but what took her by surprise was the unconditional adoration that had dressed every inch of your face. You knew nothing about her, and you were already looking at her as if you had never seen natural beauty before in your life.

And she was partially right, because never before had you seen eyes so deep, so big and expressive even if her features remained neutral, pools of melted chocolate that left a rich and sweet taste on your tongue, the tip of your tongue tracing the inner edge of your lips without you realising it as if that could prolong the phantom flavour in your mouth. It was as if you were walking through a forest in which all you could see were trees as tall as they sky would allow, oak, mahogany, ebony, cherry… an endless sea of browns that embraced you and walked beside you down a road that you had no clue where it would end or where it was going. It was so easy to get drawn into her eyes and let yourself fall deeply into them, not caring about the endless void, the floorless darkness. It was hers and for some reason, it made you feel safe. Never before had someone without so much as one word had made you feel this way, as if you could tell her everything, as if you could lay your entire life before her and let her do whatever she desired with it all, but as soon as Lilia rested against the back of her chair doubts began to fill your head. You had this woman sitting in front of you, dark glasses perched on the tip of her nose looking at you, observing your every move, drinking every inch of your body language in as if it was water and she needed it to live, her expression telling you that either she did not care one bit about your flustered state or she was hiding her emotions like a pro, her posture relaxed.

Her right arm was placed on her armrest, fingers toying with the red pen you had seen in between her lips a few moments ago, her left arm across her lap holding her notebook with two fingers, two very specific fingers, the pages tilted away from you as her legs were crossed. Everything about Lilia Calderu screamed luxury, power, as if she had everyone wrapped around her finger and she could do what she pleased, calm and resolute in every single thing she did in life, and all that confidence that very clearly seeped from her body into the atmosphere that was building in the room, slightly charged, was leaving you breathless. You were a ball of nerves, hands sweaty as they held onto the hem of your t-shirt, while she was just sitting there, neutral, assessing everything, like a predator waiting for the kill, savouring every instant before she plunged. Lilia on the other hand was quite curious about you. You had waltzed into her dominion seeking help, like countless others did every day, and suddenly she was presented with a gorgeous woman who clearly was instantly taken by her. The human brain had a tendency to surprise her at the strangest of times, because how was it possible for you to be so brutally attracted to her when she had only spoken one word to you? You had barely been in that room for more than a few minutes, and she was sure she could get you to do anything she wanted if she so desired. Clearing her throat seemed to force your gaze to stop wandering all over her face, taking in every inch of skin and makeup that Lilia was wearing.

-Good morning. My name is Lilia Calderu, and for each of our sessions, I will be your therapist. You can address me as a doctor if you prefer; it is of no concern to me, but I do have a rule, and that is that you call me Lilia. I firmly believe that if we are both on a first-name bases, I can connect with you better and you can grow to trust me rather than if we stick to titles or surnames. You are Y/N S/N, right?

-Yeah. I mean, yes. Y/N S/N, yes. – had you stuttered? God, you had never done that before, but how could you not trip over your own tongue when your name had fallen from her lips so beautifully? You had to get a grip, you were here to get help, not to get turned on by your therapist.

-Then I will call you by your name. Is that alright with you, Y/N?

-Yes. – she could call you whatever she wanted. Jesus, it had been too damn long since you had got laid, your hormones were all over the place. You were sure you were leaving puddles of pheromones on the couch that perhaps Lilia’s sharp nose would pick up on.

-Perfect. So, tell me, why are you here?

It felt as if ice cubes had been poured down your back, freezing your skin and cooling your overheated system down as her question registered in your brain. There were so many reasons why you were there, but you had no clue where to start, what things she would consider boring, and which ones she might not like, wondering for the first time if you could actually share your torments with her. There was no doubt that she made you feel safe, a motherly aura simmering behind the confident and professional mask she wore, but there was a voice in the back of your head telling you that she would listen for a while and when she got bored she would send you on your way and tell you to never come back again, that you were either a lost cause or that your trauma wasn’t really that and you were just being childish. Your mouth opened for a moment, but no words came out. Your mind was reeling with thoughts and memories at such a speed that it seemed to be blank, nothing worth telling coming forth, volunteering to sacrifice itself for the purpose of getting this session started. Lilia watched intently in silence, listing the way your hands were gripping the hem of your t-shirt even harder, almost to the point where your knuckles had turned white and the fabric was being pulled, the way your eyes drifted down to look at her legs, avoiding locking your gaze with her almost as if you were trying to hide your mind from her.

-It is normal to not know exactly how to begin. You might not be sure where the beginning even is, so how about you try to go back to the very first memory you have related to whatever issue you have encountered and tell me what happened from that point onward?

-It’s… I don’t know which one it is. There are too many to count.

-Is that so? Why are there so many Y/N? – You were a creature that lived inside a hard shell that she had to crack, one way or another, slip inside your head and pry everything with both hands until you lay bare before her eyes.

-Things happened.

-What things?

-I don’t know. Just… things. Life, I suppose.

-So, life is meant to be rough with you? That’s what you are trying to say?

She was simply asking questions, but why did it feel like there was a second meaning right there, staring at you? The way you head whipped up to look at her was almost hilarious, leaving your eyes wide open while Lilia raised an eyebrow gently. She knew perfectly well what she had asked and she knew perfectly well that she was teasing, tempting to see how you would react because there was part of her that wanted this session to go like the others, boring, emotional perhaps and call it a day after an hour, but the other part, the inquisitive one, the side of her brain that Agatha sure as hell knew how to turn on when she spoke to Lilia about her sex life with Rio, was curious to see why you had had such a reaction to her and to what limits you were willing to go to. You were her patient and at the same time an experiment of sorts, one that she hoped turned out to be successful, after all her own brain was reacting in ways that weren’t foreign to her, but the chemical response to your presence in her dominion was far stronger than anything she had experienced before. Lilia sat a little bit straighter on her chair, the red pen returning to rest against her lips, eyes never straying from your frame.

-You can share anything you want with me, Y/N. I’m here to listen to your every word. Why do you think life is treating you so roughly?

-Why not? – Two could play that game. Lilia hummed, but you weren’t sure if it was in agreement or not, her notebook a simple decoration on her lap, not a single word written in the few minutes you had been there. – Shouldn’t the question be why people don’t let life treat them roughly?

-That would indeed be the right question to ask if that was the normal outcome to be expected. But it is not. Life shouldn’t be a walk in the park, but it shouldn’t be a constant battle. So, I ask again, why do you think life is doing this to you? Do you like being mistreated? Have you found an emotional connection to being punished?

-I don’t like being hurt if that’s what you’re asking. I’m not a masochist.

-That is not what I was implying. Let me ask it more plainly. Have you developed a need to be reprimanded and punished by someone because you feel you deserve to be mistreated? Someone has to be above you at all times, reminding you what your place is?

Swallowing was hard, your mouth and throat suddenly too dry, the collar of your t-shirt making the heat in your body rise up to your cheeks. You did not like being hurt over and over, yelled at, abused and pushed to the ground, but there was something in her tone that you could not quite catch, or make out, that gave the impression that she didn’t mean the last question as professionally as she had delivered it. All of a sudden, your hands were the most interesting thing in the room, not Lilia and her deep eyes that could turn into black holes in a matter of seconds, swallowing you whole until there was nothing left. You were afraid that she would see just how much these “innocent” questions were getting to you and use that to either throw you out or ask for things that you were ashamed to say you were willing to give to her. Never before had you been drawn to a stranger so fast and so strongly, not even when you were drunk out of your mind with barely any control over your actions and no recollection of activities the next day. For some reason you felt as if Lilia would certainly be someone you would remember in any state of mind you might be in. The skin of your fingers had been peeled raw, scabs and brand-new bleeding wounds dressing your nail beds like mosaics that spoke of past events you could not handle or had been too stressed about, and Lilia had most certainly picked up on the fact that you were skinning yourself alive before her, a unhealthy coping mechanism that she hoped to erase. Your skin was far too beautiful to always be covered in blood and scabs.

-Y/N, if you don’t answer my questions or at least try to tell me a basic reason as to why you are here today, I won’t be able to help you, and that means wasting my time. – perhaps the approach she was going for might come to bite her in the ass in the future, but something had to cause the spark to glow otherwise she was getting the impression that you would not share anything with her. The pen smudged the tiniest bit of her lipstick, a reddish mark under her lower lip as she bent forward enough to make her point clear. – If you have come here to waste my time and laugh at my face, I will be very angry and upset, and if that is the case, I trust you know that I won’t hesitate to make that very clear to you. I am not here to be toddled off by a grown woman when I could be helping someone else, and I don’t think you would want me to be on top of you to make you talk. Unless… - you could feel her eyes boring into your skull, your frame shaking slightly, breath held as you waited for her to speak. – Is that what you require of me?

The way your eyes moved from your hands to her face was outstanding, the speed of light unable to match the way you had lifted your head to look at her, slow even, a sharp intake of air the only signal Lilia needed to see that she had definitely hit the spot. It might have been lust, or it might have been surprise, but she was sure that your attention was fully on her at last. Like a snake she would slither into your head and pry every single thought, want, memory and desire she could find, and build her own puzzle of you until there was nothing else for her to do but tell you that there was nothing left for the both of you to discuss, but that point was still quite far away in time and therefore her experiment could begin and run its appropriate course, the results and conclusions fantasies that she would never share and that would live in the back of her mind forever, after all she was your doctor and you were her patient and the things that her brain was coming up with were definitely not appropriate for the kind of relationship she was meant to have with you. And yet she had no desire to stop this delicious banter of double meanings that had settled in between you.

For a minute, you were stunned out of words, simply watching her. There was no way in Hell that she hadn’t meant it in some unseemly way, even if her face was completely neutral, like she did this sort of thing all the time. Perhaps she did and you were seeing ghosts where there were none, but the feeling that there was more was so strong that it was driving you insane and you had barely been with her for a few minutes. Either way, that moment of silence turned into something longer as you fully took her features in, from head to toe and beyond. Her hair was longer than what you had previously anticipated as you saw a rogue curl falling neatly over her shoulder, brushing her collarbone over her white shirt, the ringlet bouncing with each moment of her head. That mass of peppery waves that was piled on top of her head, held together by some sort of pen, glistened under the sunlight that bathed the room and your own head surprised you as you nearly said out loud how much you wanted to run your fingers through them and see if they were as soft as they looked to be, your lips parting before you caught yourself. Lilia lifted an eyebrow at the action but made no comment, simply observed you and sat back in her chair, knowing very well that she had planted the seed; she just needed to let it grow and watch.

Her nose was as unique and beautiful from the front as it was from the side, not too wide but not too narrow, it just complemented her high cheekbones and full lips to perfection. Your eyes became wide when you saw the lipstick stain, wishing that your own mouth had achieved such a thing, desiring nothing more than to smudge it completely until her chin was painted in red and her lips were swollen, quietly begging for more. It was undeniable at this point that the temperature in the room was rising, and it wasn’t because of the sun that was beginning to creep into the room, crawling over the wooden floors towards both ladies, the cardigan you had been wearing under your jacket suddenly too warm, your boots, your very own skin but your body was frozen on the spot. You began to wonder how it would feel to trace the skin of her neck with your fingertips, to feel her pulse rushing under your flesh, blood boiling in her veins, to unbutton that fucking shirt that was two sizes too small and was clinging to her in every perfecto spot almost as if she was meant to wear clothes like that.

Peaking from in between the undone buttons you could see the soft wrinkles that time had painted on top of her breasts, but you weren’t thrown back by them, no, you only wanted to release her ample boobs from their lacy cage, black and nearly see through, her shirt doing nothing to hide her from you. Lilia was no fool, she knew what you were doing, drinking in every inch of her, undressing her with your eyes until she was sitting completely naked on her chair, but this time she was going to let you do it. No other patient had ever gotten this treatment from her so early in a session, much less in the first session, perhaps she had never allowed it in the first place, but the way your pupils were blown wide was like a boost of confidence for her and she still had many questions she was hoping would receive better answers than the ones you had been giving her, so she would watch you as you pictured her in your arms, lips tasting, teeth biting hard until her skin was bruised, until your fangs drew blood and you drank her in, every drop of her essence, tasting her on your tongue and becoming high in every single one of her atoms, pushing her against the couch and pulling her close to you.

-What is it you want from me, Y/N? From this session?

Her mouth had spoken but it seemed as if your brain was taking longer than before to register her voice, soothing like caresses at dawn and thick as honey falling on your open mouth, and it wasn’t until your eyes moved down the valley of her breasts towards her legs, dressed in black thighs or stockings, you couldn’t be sure from the angle you were sitting, that your eyes shot back to her face, redness covering your cheeks in shame and a hint of arousal. Your voice shook as you spoke, unable to comprehend what was coming out of your mouth and therefore unable to stop yourself before you could keep your armour up. If this was her way to get people to talk, to render them speechless with a few double meanings and her gorgeous body no wonder her name was so well known and her patients, people like the woman in purple, stunning and powerful enough to make you vanish into the ether if you crossed them. Your brain was far too busy still fighting the image of her hands taking her shirt off to register what you were saying.

-Help.

-Help? And yet you do not converse with me. I cannot do what you need me to unless I get something from you first. I need you to bare yourself completely for me otherwise I will be talking to a wall that I won’t climb or break through with a hammer. The hard work has to come from you first Y/N and then, and only then, will I be able to walk with you down the path that you need to be on.

-Bare myself?

-Yes. This office is a safe space for you. You need to feel comfortable, as if it was your own home. So perhaps we should start by ensuring that you don’t feel as if you’re on death row and then begin with the questions again. It’s quite warm in here, you can take your cardigan off if you’d like.

The idea wasn’t completely unappealing to you, the heat inside the room matching but never surpassing the scorching lava that was coursing under your flesh, one spark away from setting your entire body aflame, but if you removed that layer your body would be exposed to her and there were things that you could not bring yourself to share with anyone, not even your friends. The redness in your cheeks was no longer due to arousal and heat, shame suddenly overwhelming your senses, your eyes watching the way Lilia’s features remained neutral for a moment before softening as she saw your hesitation. In her profession there was no room for attachments, not the way that she knew part of her patients wanted or desired, but that didn’t mean that she could not feel bad nor was she a stranger to the things that people did to themselves to escape the pain, to feel anything else even if was just for a second and it seemed that you were to be counted amongst those people. The grip on her pen hardened even if her eyes looked at you with a touch of concern and patience, promising herself that she would not ask you again unless it was strictly necessary. You cast you gaze down, and the way you began to play with the skin around your nails and the bandage that wrapped around your palm sent a jolt of pain straight to the heart that she had not been expecting in the slightest, taken aback by the sudden wave of emotion.

-I… I think I’ll keep the cardigan on for now.

-Of course. Whatever you are more comfortable with. I see that you have injured your hand.

-Yeah.

-Want to tell me how it happened?

It would be so easy to say no, to just remain silent and never look at her again, but the way she asked, losing every ounce of bluntness she had laced her words in and dressing them instead in kindness felt like a wave of reassurance that cooled you down and made you feel like you could indeed tell her how it had happened. Not ten minutes ago you had believed yourself able to tell her your deepest darkest secrets and now reality was slapping you in the face once again and your body and mind fought with the idea of speaking to Lilia about everything. What if she thought that your problems weren’t worth solving? What if she actually didn’t care and you were clawing at the possibility of her showing you not even an ounce of kindness when there had never been none? Lilia was something you had never seen before, she made you feel things that you had never felt before, not this way, and to a certain extent you were beginning to think that it wasn’t so much telling her all the things that had happened to you but the reaction she would have to everything. You had barely been with her for ten or fifteen minutes of your life and you didn’t want to let her go, to watch her slip away when she wasn’t even yours to begin with. And yet your lips parted, a shaky breath slipping through them to float invisibly around you as your voice trembled.

-I broke a bottle.

-Accidentally? – Sometimes Lilia could forget that beneath all those macho acts and distant conversations there were people, well, not just people, little kids who were scared and weren’t sure how to make people hear them. There was a hint of shame in her system at the experiment she was conducting on you but she wasn’t going to stop it, instead she could widen the research and try to understand why she felt like she was being stabbed in the chest when you were but a stranger, a passer by that would leave her once your problems were solved. It was like getting a taste of a special chocolate at Christmas that she would enjoy too intensely for a short time and then be left craving it for the rest of her life, but she could not make you leave and prevent herself from falling the way she was sure she was doing. She’d rather taste the chocolate than watch it remain in the cupboard until one day it would no longer be there. She could not wonder if your skin was as soft as it looked, if your hair didn’t smell of cinnamon or perhaps vanilla, if the whiffs of sweetness she had caught when you had entered belonged to your perfume or if the belonged to your flesh. She began to feel herself drifting away from you and into those fantasies she was trying to keep at bay and instead of letting herself be snatched away she was pulled back into the room by your voice, quiet as the words fell from your lips carrying a hint of pain and defeat that she made a mental note about.

-Not quite. I was arguing with a friend, got pissed and smashed the bottle on the counter. I cut myself instead of hurting her.

-What was it you were arguing about?

-Don’t know. Stuff. I don’t quite remember. I was drunk and she kept going on about I don’t know what and then she started yelling and I got angry and she kept yelling and I got even more angry.

-So why did you pick up the bottle?

-I… I don’t know. I think I wanted her to just shut up and get off my case for a minute.

-So you wanted to hurt her?

-What? No!

-But you did pick up the bottle with the intention of doing something to her with it.

-I would never hurt her. I was just pissed and drunk and in the end, I was the one who ended up on the ER, so stop trying to tell me that I wanted to mince my friend or whatever shit you are trying to imply.

-I did not ask a question. I stated a fact that you yourself inadvertently told me.

-I never said that! Don’t put words in my mouth lady!

-I would never dream of doing that Y/N, but you must admit, for your own good, that when you picked that bottle there was an intention that wasn’t headed for you but your friend. I am not telling you that you did it on purpose, that you were aware of your actions and therefore knew what the outcome would be, but I am telling you that by what you are saying she was the one that your anger was focused on.

-So, you are telling me that if I hadn’t broken the bottle on the counter, I would have smashed it on her head?

-Is that the outcome you believe would have happened?

She was lucky she was so fucking beautiful, otherwise you would have already stormed out of her office calling her a cunt. Of course, you were aware that the bottle could have seriously hurt her but to be told so bluntly to your face that that could not have been but would have been the outcome made you feel even worse about it all and yet furious at Lilia for being so brutal about saying it. For fucks sakes you were already going through Hell, there was no need to be so bitchy about it all! Your fingers had stopped fidgeting with the scabs and bleeding cuts, now holding onto the hem of your shirt with such a grip that your knuckles were beginning to turn white, your gaze no longer on your lap but on her face instead. All the softness that had washed over Lilia as she asked you about the incident was a harsh contrast with the fury that was suddenly in your eyes, and it caught her off guard. She was ticking you off, cracking you open with her bare hands and in that process she would have expected insults, maybe accusatory monologues about how she was only trying to convince you that you were nuts or something, it wouldn’t have been the first time, but the rage, the simple unadulterated rage that was practically steaming off your body was something that she hadn’t expected and was not happy about.

-Are you going to answer the question or keep sulking in your seat?

-How about you get drunk and get told off for every fucking mistake you’ve ever made? Let’s see if you know then if “that’s the expected outcome” or whatever you just said.

-Excuse me? I don’t tolerate such tones young lady. I understand that some of the things that might be said here can be hard but that is no excuse to talk to me or anyone that way. So how about you try again and show me a little more respect?

-Where am I now? Third grade? I pay you to help me, not to tell me that I’m some sort of pyscho.

-Words I have never uttered. I think that you need a moment to calm yourself down, because no one here is telling you such things. – Lilia felt her anger rising with each passing second, fighting to keep it at bay and remain as collected as she could even though you were most definitely reaching boiling point.

-Calm down? Are you seriously telling me to calm down?! How dare you?! Who do you think you are?!

The instant those words escaped your mouth Lilia’s entire calm demeanour shifted into something you had never seen before, a fury that no human being should have. She stood up from her chair in a fraction of a second, throwing her notebook on top of the coffee table that separated each other, nostrils flaring and those gorgeous curls bouncing as she stomped in your direction, her black skirt riding up her thighs and showing the edge of what you now knew were a pair of black stockings, lacy contrasting with the olive-kissed skin that you could see peeking just above it. She had no business coming towards you like that, breasts rising with each breath she took, spilling almost from her black bra as she bent over the table, both of her palms pressed firmly over wood. Dangling from her neck was a golden chain, a pendant of two turquoise hands catching your eyes for a moment, only an instant before your eyes travelled elsewhere. With Lilia only a foot or so from you, you could practically count every freckle on her face and chest, your fingers twitching to touch her all over, to dig every single one of your digits on her skin until your fingerprints were engraved on her flesh, marked forever. But Lilia wasn’t that willing to be touched, not right now when she was about to blow the top of your skull off.

-How dare I?! Who do I think I am?! I’m the woman who’s trying to fix your life, unless you had failed to notice that in your self-deprecating rant. I have had many people sit exactly where you are and never, never, have I seen a person as disrespectful as you! You come to me for help and then pull a stunt like this?! I don’t think so! – her perfume didn’t seem as sweet as she pointed her finger at you, her short nail shining under the sunlight that was slowly creeping in, like monsters that were turning everything dark around you, no warmth, just Lilia and her rage. She rose her hand just a little above her head in fury to make her point clearer, exactly at the perfect height for it to collide with your face and leave you bruised for a week if she so desired, if she turned out to be like everyone else, taking pride in hurting and mocking your pain. All the rage that had fuelled your body vanishing as your eyes followed her movements, panic filling the spots that anger had left behind, mixing with a touch of fear that her raised voice didn’t help with as she carried on with her rant. The fury in her eyes was like a wildfire burning forests with a brutal force not noticing the way it ravaged and killed without mercy, ripping souls from the ground until only ashes were left. – Children have shown me the respect you are denying me, and I won’t have you nor anyone mock me and ask me who I think I am in my own office! I know perfectly well who I am, the question is who the hell do you think you are?! Either you apologise and start behaving like an actual grown woman or you can get the hell out of here!

If for some reason Lilia had turned her face to look at the door instead of maintaining her eyes fixed on you she would have missed the way your body pulled away from her and her raised arms, the way your back pressed against the couch as if you were looking for some sort of exit that your eyes could not find, shooting from side to side hoping for a door but unable to see anything past Lilia. Your entire field of vision had become the woman before you, watching like a scared child every single movement she made, from the way her face stared at you in confusion before realization sank in, to the way she lowered her arm slowly, allowing you to follow the path of her hand until it rested on top of the coffee table once again. Never before had she behaved like this, lost her composure so easily, had let anyone get to her so fast when she barely knew them and she had been called many things since she had begun to work as a therapist, but to see you like this, afraid of her, seemed to break something inside her. This entire session had started the wrong way, and it had only gotten worse. As gently as she could Lilia knelt before the table, ensuring that her every move was gentle, and allowed you to watch her and see where her hands were at all times.

-Y/N?

The moment you had woken up, everything had seemed like the beginning of a rollercoaster, getting higher and higher until suddenly you were falling with no breaks in sight and an infinite number of loops that you had to go through to get to the end, a straight line above ground. Seeing Lilia, talking with her and getting to this point felt like you were going through smaller loops inside a big one, but you couldn’t get out, not now. The way she could switch from being all kind and soft to cruel and brutal seemed insane to you, like some sort of superpower that in truth you had no idea why nor for what it could be useful, unless scaring the crap out of you counted as its main purpose. Once again her voice was velvet caressing your cheeks, tears you had not felt until now falling slowly, running down your skin leaving bitter trails of abuse and pain behind that you had not wished to show her, not this soon, but life had had other plans for you it seemed, and as she called your name your eyes settled on her calm face again. Had you been this cold before? You could not recall feeling your skin as if it was ice, nor seeing Lilia crawling over the carpet towards you, your mind foggy momentarily and then all of a sudden there was the touch of a hand on your thigh, warm, comforting, almost as if it was meant to be there, and as it spread its heat the turmoil in your head dissipated.

Somewhere in the room a clock was ticking, the noise quiet but it seemed to reverberate inside your head along with the rushing of blood as your panicked heart tried to calm itself down. Lilia’s hands were small, of soft skin and prominent veins, and they did not move against your thigh, only rested there, and that simple gesture was more than you had received in weeks, perhaps the first actual touch in months but you could not be sure, there were gaps that you could not fill and that brought along questions that you had no answer for. Through blurry tears you counted three golden rings, one on her index finger dressed in round opal stones that brushed coldly against her own skin, and two on her ring finger, one a simple golden band while the other was of a silvery undertone encasing a small pearl that reflected all the colours of the rainbow in gentle pastels, iridescent lakes that Lilia could see in your tears. A voice in the back of your head whispered that none of them were attached to a marriage or engagement, or at least that’s what your heart was feeling, at last your mind and blood agreeing on something. In your life you had met many women you had considered gorgeous, but with them there had never been anything beyond seeing them one time and moving on with your life, no attachments, not really. Lilia was different though in ways you could not describe, and it confused you, because what if everything was just in your head and the sudden pull to woo her was destined to disappear into smoke? She had to be kind to you, it was her job, and yet she had been brutally honest to the point that she had scared you and you were certain that that wasn’t usual behaviour, she even seemed to be taken aback by her own reaction, which wouldn’t be too far off, so maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t some paranoia you had suddenly developed because you were touched starved. After all, you were begging and craving for a love that didn’t seem to ever arrive and you were growing tired and driving yourself insane by it and in the centre of that amorphous mass suddenly Lilia appeared, and like the Big Bang a complete universe seemed to be forming, stars, galaxies and systems that were each part of you for her to see.

-Y/N, talk to me. Are you okay? – what were you meant to answer to that? You weren’t alright but you didn’t want to tell her that, not as plainly anyway but if you lied you were sure she would pick up on that, so once again you were back in square one. Her hand made no effort to move, nor did the rest of her, kneeling at your feet with a look that could only be described as heartbreaking. There was sadness behind her chocolate irises, but underneath all that there was a layer of a thousand emotions that rushed from side to side as if none of them knew which was more prominent. Defeat, shame, guilt, anger, but that one didn’t seem to be projected towards you, and rather on herself, as if she was flagellating herself mentally for losing her temper like this when she did not know what your triggers were nor the things that you feared the most. She was supposed to be the professional here and she felt as if she deserved nothing else than to be punished for her outburst, perhaps have her license revoked, though as she looked at you, your body still pressed against the back of the couch firmly, she thought that perhaps that was a bit harsh. Everyone makes mistakes, but only a few people acknowledge them and actively try to fix them and change. She had said that more times than she could count, so she should set an example and do it herself. You had come to her for help, not for whatever this had turned into, and she wasn’t going to let you leave scared of her. – I’m terribly sorry I shouted at you. I shouldn’t have done so, and I apologise. I know it’s no excuse, but It’s been a long day.

-It’s ten in the morning. – there was no need for the both of you to feel as miserable as you did, and in moments of stress or deep emotion humour seemed to be a good escape. The jab came out softly with a smile that trembled on your lips, a way of lightening the mood so the despair inside you wouldn’t crawl out of your chest and steal you away.

-True, but after talking with Agatha it feels like six in the evening. Still, I apologise. Are you alright?

-I think so, yeah. I just need a minute to… sort myself out?

-Of course. I can step out or you can go to the bathroom if you need to.

-No, it’s fine. I’d actually prefer it if you stayed. My stupid brain won’t think of you as a threat. I think.

-We should get into that. Your response wasn’t something foreign, but it wasn’t expected either. By the hints you have dropped I believe you’ve been hurt more than once and more than twice, but perhaps we could address this at another time. Once you are more comfortable with me and your surroundings.

It had been barely an instant, a reaction that happened in less than a fraction of a second but what felt strange to you wasn’t so much the panic itself that was already fading into the ether, barely a few strings left around your heart, but the fact that Lilia did not make fun of you or call you weak, mocking your fear, your memories that came to threaten you as if they were demons standing in the room. Perhaps you had been surrounded by the same people for too long and could no longer differentiate between what was good and what had become your normal. There, on the floor, with her face barely half a foot from your bare knees Lilia looked like an angel, her perfect oak eyes holding nothing but softness for you, the fury a distant memory in your mind as you let yourself get pulled into her, falling inside her mind as if you could swim in between her thoughts and construct her from every little piece she was willing to give you, from every whisper and every touch. The way the golden rays reflected on the wood created a halo around her face, her cherry lips slightly parted as if she wanted to say something, but she could not find the right words, or perhaps she knew what she wanted to say but wasn’t sure whether to let them escape or to keep them for herself. The air had been charged the instant you had set foot inside the room, but it seemed as if the electricity that was now sparkling invisibly through the atmosphere had shifted into something completely different, something as intimate and deep as the way your body was moving towards Lilia and away from the back of the couch.

Had anyone ever told her that there were specs of honey in her irises? Touches of a sweetness that your tongue could almost taste, but everything was but a hallucination, a delusion of your mind. Of course, Lilia’s attentive nature had picked up on the way your fear and panic had turned into small bubbles that danced over your irises, like floating stars that reflected your persona the same way they did in that scene in Cinderella as she sang about a mockingbird’s song, almost sure that one was chirping outside her windows under the heat of morning. With every caress of her fingers on your skin one of the bubbles seemed to pop, the feelings trapped inside fading into nothing, making room for a sense of adoration that sent shivers down her spine. Not a single touch or look anyone had ever sent her way could compare to the way her mind and body reacted to you, confusing her with the longing that was begging for her to pull you closer, to perhaps answer all those questions that the both of you had reeling in your head. Still, she fought. You were a patient, an experiment for her to examine in her free time, research that she could get her hands on to understand her own brain, her chemical reactions, or perhaps overreactions, to see if things were as primitive as some of her colleagues had told her, if there was an underlying reason why she would suddenly be so attracted to someone with only one glance, one conversation.

-If you are alright with it, I would like to begin the session once again. I believe we started off on the wrong foot and we can’t have that, not when I’m here to help you. Are you okay with that?

-Yeah. Sure.

There had been the expectation that she would remove her hand straight away, but she instead used it as leverage to stand, her face nearly brushing against your legs, her hot breath nearly seeping into your skin under your clothes, but it never quite reached it, her breasts though, that was a whole different story. Her other hand came to rest over the fabric of the couch, right beside your left thigh, the heat of her skin begging and clawing at the clothes that separated you from her but unable to break through them, and as she pulled herself upright her breasts came into contact with your knees, sliding over your thighs making your skirt ride up slightly, feeling the way her satin shirt brushed and caressed your skin. You had expected it to feel cool against your flesh, to draw out goosebumps and send shivers down your spine but the fabric was surprisingly warm or perhaps that was your own body that was rising in temperature as her cleavage came into full view for your eyes to feast on. There were indeed freckles all over it, some slightly darker others faint against her caramel skin, and the sight made your mouth run dry and at the same time water, wondering if there would be a sweetness or saltiness to it, if she would melt to your touch, if her body would mould to yours, to your fingers and kisses. It was insanity to have her this close, to see her black lacy bra peeking from under all that glistening white and not be able to unbutton it, to grab her by the waist and sink your teeth into the plump skin of each boob as if there wasn’t anything as delicious in the entire planet as her.

The whiff of her floral and burnt amber perfume was intoxicating, ropes that wrapped around your wrists and kept you trapped, grounded on her couch, watching the slightly wrinkled skin of her chest blending down into a forbidden path that neither your eyes nor your fingers could set foot on, feeling the way the air was filled with only Lilia, her breasts bouncing with each motion and each breath as if she was greedily taking all the oxygen in the room, or perhaps your lungs were not working with her being so close to you. Lilia had not even thought that this could happen, her height hadn’t even crossed her mind nor how it might make her brush against you, but she could not say that your reaction was unpleasant, nor particularly unexpected since every single thing she had done had had a similar response from you, and it was undeniable how your eyes dilated and mixed adoration with arousal in a perfect cocktail that slid down Lilia’s throat with that delicious burn she had not experienced in a while, your delightful sweet undertones knocking her taste buds out as if she could actually feel the way your essence would float across her tongue. The way your teeth barely bit down on your lip as to stop any rogue sounds from escaping when her nipples, stiff as the lace brushed against them, caressed your body, even if it was for an instant, dizzying your senses for a millisecond. And then the moment was gone and Lilia stood before you instead of practically straddling your lap and smiled down at you as if nothing had happened, but you knew better. She knew better.

The notebook on the table had been forgotten but as Lilia turned around, her round ass aligning perfectly with your line of vision, she saw it from the corner of her eye and bent to pick it up. This time she did not see that way your eyes darkened, the way your hands twitched in need to grab her by her hips and press yourself against her, to whisper the most filthy things in the universe against her ear while your hands did quick work of that tight black skirt that she had no business wearing, imagining how it would look pooled around her feet, her gorgeous legs dressed in nothing but the stockings you now knew she was wearing, almost daring to imagine her with nothing else but her bra and stockings, skin bare for you to roam with your kisses and for your hands to hold onto, to push and bend her over. You wanted to see it red with the shape of your hands all over the soft flesh, because there was no doubt in your mind that every inch of her was like the most expensive velvet, like all the silk and satin that existed in this universe, hoping that her skin was as smooth as diamonds and as delicious as caviar. As soon as the notebook was back in her hands, she straightened herself and walked back towards her chair oblivious to every fantasy that was crossing your mind. The purpose of coming to see Lilia was no longer to get help, you thought, or at least not fully, but to see if you weren’t going insane with lust and to find out if what you felt, if what you could see in her eyes, in her body, was true and not just your craving for a real attachment. Lilia did not sit down though, no, she turned around and rested her hip on the side of the chair, the red pen you had lost sight of for a moment back in her hands, moving in between her fingers, the cherry of her lipstick visible against the bright scarlet shade of the metal.

-Y/N, please, do tell me, how did you know that you had to come and see me? What was the reason for you to make this appointment?

-A friend suggested it.

-Suggested it? Was this friend the one who was with you when you injured yourself?

-I… She… Yes.

-And did she suggest it because she was worried about you or about what you might do to her?

-I wasn’t going to hurt her. Lilia, you said we were going to start from the beginning, not go back to this topic.

-You don’t want to talk about it?

-No. I don’t think… I’m not ready.

-Alright, if that is what you want to do let’s go back to our previous conversation. You said that you expected to be treated roughly. Is that a reflection of how you desire to be treated or is it something that happened and you had no say in it?

-I don’t think… I don’t understand the question. – oh, you most certainly understood the question but there was a certain level of curiosity in you that wanted to see her break, to slip and say out loud what you were sure she was simply bursting to say. Perhaps she was the one who liked it rough.

-Let me rephrase. – she turned her back on you, tracing the stitching of her chair with her index finger as she spoke, rounding her seat as if she were a predator that was waiting for her next meal, stalking it, assessing it. Her gaze shifted from her fingers to your face almost with each word she spoke, not wanting you to see the anticipation in her eyes but without wishing to miss any reaction you might have. – Let’s take this scenario and you can explain to me exactly what you want me to understand. If you and I were in a different place with a different set of circumstances, let’s say having dinner at your place, you would expect me to order you around? To force you to do all the things I don’t want to do without a single regard for your feelings? Or would you expect me to wait until we were in the bedroom for me to grab you and do what I desired with you?

-I… I still don’t understand what you are trying to ask me. I mean, I wouldn’t want you to force me to do things, but I’m not quite following your line of thought.

-I shall be as plain and straightforward as I can then. When you implied that life treated you this way does it mean that you would expect me to bark at you and hit you with no pleasurable ending in sight because you are not doing or behaving as I expect you to, or would you expect me to wait until we were in the bedroom for me to grab you by the hair and tell you all the things you have done wrong while I rip your clothes off and do whatever I desire with you?

Lilia was hoping for the latter. There were a thousand things she could do to you, a million ideas crossing her mind as she watched you gulp, the shape of your neck a blank canvas that she could picture filled with bruises and bites, your pulse point abused to the point that one single brush of her fangs over it would draw blood. Part of her was wondering what things others had done to you, if they had pulled your hair, if ropes had ever been involved, if men had ever taken a taste of you, or if that had been a female privilege. Either way she knew she could surpass them and make you feel things that could have never even crossed your mind, to have you writhing under her, on top of her until you were begging her to let you take a break and breath, to rake her perfectly cared for nails all over your skin until you were one inch away from madness only to be pulled back into sanity by her skilled fingers and mouth, to send you over the edge with her tongue as if there was no time or space in the universe, the only beings solid in this planet her and you. The seconds that were passing by were excruciatingly slow, nearly painful to watch from the clock on her wall that she could see from the corner of her eye, waiting for you to either shatter her fantasies and remind her why you were there in the first place or to fuel them even more.

-I would expect you to scream, perhaps, if you were really pissed at me, I suppose. But I think I would expect you to take your rage out on me by fucking me senseless. You would have more power over me that way, I think.

-More power over you? Have you reflected on the roles that you perform in bed compared to your normal daily life?

-I don’t have roles in bed.

-That is not quite what I understand from that statement. What you are saying is that, if we still carry on with the same scenario, I would dominate you, abuse your body in ways that you normally wouldn’t let me, that I could bite you, spank you, bruise you and hurt you and you would take it without complaint. – The satin of her shirt was suddenly too thick, sweat collecting at the base of her spine and in between her breasts as she forced her voice to remain steady, professional. This was exactly the material Agatha provided her with when she never asked for it, the younger woman knowing perfectly well that everything she told Lilia had a physical reaction, almost as if she was expecting her to have them, but pulling this out of you, squeezing you so your juices would drip onto her awaiting hands and drinking it as if it was water was far more challenging and therefore rewarding to her than any story Agatha could tell her. You were turning her on because of the mystery you were to her, because of the way your body spoke to her to such levels that she could not comprehend and not because you were being a tease that would leave her high and dry. Not if she could have it her way. - You would be completely submissive to me and you have moved that role to your daily life.

-I don’t think that is what I do. I can dominate as well, and I don’t let my actions in bed reflect on my ordinary life. I don’t know how you got that conclusion.

-You seem certain you dominate as much as you behave submissively.

-I am.

-Alright. Let’s change the scenario. Stand up. – you were stunned by her command, perhaps by the way she spoke to you with an authority you had not heard from her, though you had only met the woman over thirty minutes ago, there were many things you didn’t know about her. You remained seated, not out of fear or because you did not wish to comply, simply because you were surprised. Lilia did not take it as lightly. – Y/N I don’t like repeating myself, so if I say “stand up” you do so. Stand up!

Lightning had coursed through your veins at the power, at the way her hands gripped the back of the chair, at the way a few rogue curls had escaped her messy updo and were framing her face, the kindness that had painted her features instants before subdued, an air of confidence pouring out of her like water racing down steep rocks in a waterfall. She knew what she was doing, there was no doubt about that, and you had answered her command without a single question racing through your mind, sprang to your feet as if the couch was fire and you had to run away from it, though if the destination was Lilia’s arms you would not complain. Authority suited her, you thought. She made no attempt to move from her spot behind her chair, instead lifted an eyebrow and looked at the floor in front of her. She didn’t utter a word and yet you moved, your body shaking but it was no longer just arousal, want and desire, it was anticipation, not knowing what to expect and not understanding what Lilia’s method was nor what the outcome of this was supposed to be. If there was no title before the name Lilia nor the knowledge that this was her office you would know perfectly well how things would end but this wasn’t some hot woman you had picked up at the bar, and this scenario was beginning to feel like more than just some psychological method to understand you. But you did not wish to stop her. Your steps were slightly clumsy as you rounded the coffee table, but you made it to the appointed spot, waiting for her to either move or say something.

-I want you to tell me to my face, no stuttering or half arsed answers, if you would do what I’m about to ask you. Understood?

-Yes.

-If I asked you to undress for me, would you?

-I… I…

-No stuttering! It’s a simple instruction.

-But the question is not that easy.

-Isn’t it? Undress!

-What?

-Perhaps the issue is that I asked if you would do it. The circumstances that I have set for the scenario make questions irrelevant. I am ordering you, commanding you to undress.

-And if I don’t?

-Defiance. Perhaps you are not as submissive as I previously thought. Still, let us carry on. You do not wish to undress for me; what would the outcome of this rebellion be?

-A punishment.

-Rough treatment as stated before. Kneel.

You could easily say no, to tick her until she broke but why would you want to reach that point? It was much more fun to see where she was heading with this, if there was an actual reason for her to be doing this and not just because she might want to get a taste of what it was like to be in charge, though by the way she held her head high and waited for you to move with the pen hitting the back of the chair, there was a voice in the back of your head telling you that perhaps you weren’t giving her enough credit. Slowly you complied with her command, your gaze locked with hers as your right knee hit the hard wood, followed by the left, leaving you with the cold of the ground seeping into the scars that decorated your skin around your patellas, but even though you were doing what you were told your head was held high in defiance, as a way to tell her that you could say no at any time and she would have to suck it up. Lilia’s first step towards you was calculated, as if she was showing you who was truly in command in this room, your eyes shooting to watch her dainty foot, inside a perfectly polished black stiletto, as it lifted from the ground to round her chair, following the shape of her shin, hidden behind black stockings. You wondered for a moment if they would feel as smooth as they looked, if perhaps the expensive fabrics she seemed to be wrapped in could match the feeling of her skin protected underneath.

Travelling up her leg, her thigh became a fixated point for you to feast on, her short pencil skirt having ridden up almost to the top of her thighs revealing that the top of her stockings were indeed intricate lace patters that wrapped around her, jealousy building inside you at the fact that such meaningless fabric was touching her and not you. Of course her hips were perfectly shaped by the lycra of her clothes, nearly tailored to her specific measurements you thought, and it wouldn’t have been a total lie, not when things fitted her as sexily as they did, but it wasn’t your hands that rested there, it was her own, like a teacher who was about to scold her student. Every movement she made had been measured to the smallest detail, to the sway of her hips, to the way her legs crossed each other as she walked towards you, the fingers of her right hand still following the shape of the back of her chair. If Lilia had been a lioness, she would have been able to smell your arousal all around you, pooling in between your legs, but you could not let your most primeval feelings get the best of you. There was a purpose for this experiment, or whatever it was, and you would see it through, and show her that you weren’t as submissive as she was sure you were. Lilia, of course, was a thousand steps ahead of you already, and knew perfectly well what your role was, after all, it wasn’t the first time she had had a woman kneeling before her in less than five minutes flat.

The hand that she had purposely placed on her hip slid upwards over her stomach towards her chest, making the motion of her fingers around the buttons of her shirt slow, letting her right hand join the satin that cupped her breasts as she got closer and closer to you, faking a surprised look when her already very low-cut shirt suddenly became even more so, a button popping open by her skilled fingers, her plump chest spilling from in between the fabric as if they had a spring attached. Your eyes widened, darkening to such a shade that they could match the blackest coal on the planet. The freckles indeed travelled down to her nipples, pink and stiff behind all the translucent black lace, and Lilia did seem to be trying to close her shirt back up, but there was something in the movement in her hands that told you she was in no hurry to actually do so. In no time she was standing before you, chocolate eyes having watched your every reaction, the way you squirmed on your knees, the way your hands held onto the hem of your own skirt with such strength Lilia wondered if perhaps you could rip it and bare yourself for her. Fumbling still with the buttons, though to you it looked as if she was fingering and toying with them, she proceeded to bend forward, everything, her very own soul in display for you.

-You are sure you don’t fit the mould of a submissive?

-Yes.

-And yet you are at my feet hun. I’m certain that if I told you to do something else you would.

-How are you so certain I will? You don’t know what I’m capable of or how my mind works.

The laughter that erupted from Lilia was deep, as if it had been ripped from the very back of her throat, raspy tones lacing it, echoing against the walls and entering your mind as if it was the most expensive whiskey you could have, smoky and fiery as you swallowed and watched mesmerised as she threw her head back and completely let go of the buttons, the satin folding around her breasts, the perfect contrast of white and black. You were simply bewitched by her throat, by the way it moved with each bout of laughter and could not help but wonder how it would look as she drank your juices greedily. That intoxicating sound became nothing more than chuckles after a moment or two, Lilia returning to what you could only describe as her dominatrix persona, tilting her head to the side as she observed you.

-Oh, hun, I already know more about you than you can imagine. – The pen was once again in her hand, but your mind was too aroused to even wonder where it had gone before, if it had ever left her fingers. Those fucking fingers dressed in rings and made out of the softest velvet in the entire universe that had touched your thigh, that you craved for to such a point that it was beginning to be borderline insanity brought on by lust. The metal touched the underside of your chin, forcing your head to be lifted slightly and therefore changing the line of vision from her breasts to her eyes. – I know that as we are now, I could do whatever I desire to you, and you wouldn’t stop me. If I told you to undress you would do it; yes, you might try to play hard to get, perhaps defy me but in the end, you would be kneeling at my feet completely naked. If I told you to crawl to me and kiss my shoes you would do it. All this you would do simply because your mind has become used to being ordered around, inside and outside the bedroom. You have been built and shaped to do what others want you to even if you have complete free will, and you do it without much protest because if you don’t you expect a punishment, as you have already stated. You think life should treat you roughly because that is what you have been conditioned to believe.

-I… I wouldn’t let you…

-You wouldn’t? Then why are you still on the floor? Do not be ashamed Y/N, this sort of treatment can be quite enjoyable in the right setting, but I most certainly do not want you to reflect it on your daily life. – And just like that the pen was gone and so were Lilia’s gorgeous breasts as she rose to her full height, leaving you to stare at her legs. - I’m going to give you some homework.

-What? Am I really back in school?

-You can choose to do it or not. Up to you.

-And what happens if I don’t do it? – Even from your place you saw the smirk on her cherry lips, her hands toying with the button again as if she was considering whether to close it or leave it as it was for a bit longer.

-Perhaps my assumptions were partially incorrect, and you do like to be punished. What do you think I would do if you do not complete the task I’m going to give you?

-I don’t know.

-Then let me ask you. What would you like me to do to you if you do not complete the task?

Fuck you. You could say it, you knew you could, it was only two words, but you had been rendered speechless. Fantasy after fantasy built in your head, each filthier than the previous one. You could tell her to bend you over the couch and spank you, to feel that delicious tingling that came from the colliding of her palm against your bare ass. You could ask her to keep you kneeling at her feet for the duration of the next session, to allow you to kiss her feet, her shins, her thighs and everything that was in between them. Or you could tell her that she had free rein to do as she desired as you were sure that in that clinical mind of hers there were many scenarios already built and waiting to be used, just like you. Perhaps she would undress you herself and leave you completely naked while she remained dressed, or perhaps she would tie you and tell you how much a dirty slut you were. So many scenarios. Lilia interpreted your silence as many things but as much as she wanted to press the subject even further, but the forty-five minutes were coming to an end, and she could not leave you like this until the next session. Or perhaps she could leave slightly dishevelled and bothered to match how she felt.

-Alright. Let us consider this Y/N. If you do the task, we will continue our next session exploring this need to be ordered about and being reduced to simply a servant in the eyes of your friends and partners. If you do not do the task, you will be given a choice between me choosing an appropriate punishment or doing something out of your comfort zone.

-My comfort zone?

-Yes. Everyone has one. Things we like over others, places, foods, even people, and we tend to choose them over everything else. We might talk about that in our next session and see what your preferences are, what things you find triggering, your fears…

-So, if I do the task, we carry on with this but if I don’t we talk about my fears and whatnot?

-Yes.

-What’s the task?

-I want you to write a list of all the things that you do throughout the week that are told to you by others and the ones that you do of your own free will. That includes any sexual encounters you might have until we see each other again. If you get told to moan, you add it, if you get told to swallow, you add it, if you get told to cum, you add it. Everything. And in our next appointment you hand me the list and we go over it and how it made you feel.

-Will I have to tell you how cumming feels?

-I might be the one who will have to tell you how it should feel hun.

Without another word she turned away and began to walk towards her chair again, her notebook resting on the seat waiting to be filled with every single detail Lilia had mentally written down, her hands working quickly on the button she had undone. You remained on the floor still, your knees beginning to protest against the wooden floors, but you weren’t sure whether you could stand and leave without Lilia telling you to do so or if you had to wait for her command. To a certain extent you were curious as to how she would punish you if you did not follow her orders. The skirt returned to its original length, the curls that had been framing Lilia’s angelic face making their way to her updo giving you the impression that she had forgotten all about you already but in fact Lilia was waiting. If you did not stand on your own it would confirm what she already knew, that she could make you her pet and you would not even bother to run away from her, and as the minutes passed and you made no effort to do so, not even when Lilia walked past you to get herself a glass of water, her thigh so close to your face you could have grabbed her and lifted that skirt and eaten her out until the entire building heard her. It wasn’t until she sat back on her chair with her water and her notebook that her eyes settled down on you once again, spreading her legs and bending forward, the knowledge that you could see what she was wearing underneath perfectly clear in her mind.

-Get up Y/N. There will be plenty of time for you to be right in that spot in the future.

#lilia calderu #lilia x reader #patti lupone #avis amberg #avis amberg x reader #patti lupone x reader #we thank miss lupone simply for existing #agatha all along

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allthemeniveloved · 7 months ago

Text

It Will Come Back - Arthur's Ending

Summary: Arthur's ending, and John's fate is revealed.

wc: 5.3k

ao3 link

Tags: SMMMUTTTT, Arthur Morgan x fem!reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, angst, cream pie, body worship, oral (f receiving), p in v, unprotected, brief mentions of violence, body worship, arthur morgan is all about aftercare

a/n: I pray that everyone who voted for Arthur's ending is satisfied! I'm definitely feeling more comfortable writing smut nowadays but not perfectly where I want to be, but that's okay. Work has been much busier than normal lately with the holidays, but I plan on working on John's two-part ending throughout this week to hopefully post by next weekend. Enjoy! <3

P.S. I don't know what is going on with my ao3 but when I pasted the story from my google doc, everything was double spaced and I lost all of my italics and things and I'm not sure how to get it back. So apologies.

John slammed his fists against the bars, his voice desperate as they backed away. “Arthur! Don’t leave me here!”

Arthur turned back briefly, his jaw clenched tight. “We’ll come back for you, I swear it!”

“Arthur, please!” John shouted, gripping the bars of his cell, his voice raw with desperation as the sound of approaching guards grew louder.

Arthur turned back, his jaw tight as he tried to reassure him. “John, we’ll come ba—”

Before he could finish, a sharp pain exploded across his jaw as a guard’s fist connected, sending him stumbling back against the wall. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth as he regained his footing, drawing his revolver in one swift motion and firing instinctively, the shot tearing through the guard’s skull with a sickening crack, sending him stumbling back. The guard hit the ground hard, his keys clattering to the floor with a metallic echo.

“Arthur!” John’s voice rang out from his cell, sharp and desperate as he saw the glint of the keys. The chaos of boots stomping toward them and shouted commands filled the hallway, but neither man had time to think—just act. The corridor erupted in chaos as more guards poured in, their boots thundering against the stone floors. Arthur and Sadie fired back as they retreated, each shot precise but frantic, their survival instincts driving them forward.

John pressed himself against the bars of his cell, stretching his arm through the narrow gap until his fingers brushed the edge of the keys. “Come on, come on…” he muttered, his breath hitching as they slipped further away. Summoning every ounce of strength, he forced his hand through the gap, ignoring the scrape of cold iron against his skin. Finally, his fingers closed around the keyring, and he yanked them back, clutching them tightly in his shaking hand.

John wasted no time, fumbling with the lock on his cell door. His hands trembled, slick with sweat, but the mechanism clicked, and the door creaked open just as he watched the last of the guards chase Arthur and Sadie from the building. John slipped out as quiet as he could, his heart pounding in his chest as he glanced over his shoulder. John darted down the hall, the shouts and chaos receding as he vanished into the night. The noise behind him was deafening—the sound of Arthur and Sadie holding their ground against the guards—but John didn’t look back. He couldn’t. All he could do was pray they’d make it out alive, just as he had.

One Week Later

The abandoned shack nestled in the rolling green hills of Big Valley was far from luxurious, but it was quiet, hidden, and—for now—safe. The air outside smelled of damp earth and pine, the wind rustling softly through the tall trees surrounding the property. Inside, the light of the late afternoon sun filtered through the cracks in the wooden walls, casting warm golden streaks across the floorboards. You stood near the hearth, coaxing a small fire to life as Arthur sat at the wobbly table in the corner, cleaning his revolver with practiced care.

It had been a week since the chaos at Sisika, and though the two of you hadn’t spoken much about what came next, there was a quiet understanding between you—this was where you needed to be, together. It felt strange and fragile, this rekindled closeness after so many months apart, but it also felt like home in a way you hadn’t experienced in a long time.

“You alright over there?” Arthur’s voice cut through the quiet, his tone soft but tinged with that familiar edge of concern. He looked up from his work, his blue eyes scanning you as if to confirm that you were, in fact, okay.

You nodded, offering him a small smile as you straightened from the fire. “I’m fine, Arthur. You don’t need to keep asking.”

His lips quirked into a faint smirk, though his gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary. “Can’t help it,” he muttered, turning his attention back to his revolver. “You’ve got a knack for trouble, and trouble’s been followin’ us like a damn shadow.”

You rolled your eyes playfully but couldn’t ignore the warmth that spread through your chest at his protectiveness. Crossing the room, you leaned against the edge of the table, watching him work. The way his hands moved—steady and sure, with a careful precision that spoke of years of practice—was mesmerizing. You reached out impulsively, your fingers brushing lightly against his as he reassembled the gun.

Your eyes drifted to his hands as he worked on his revolver. They were rough and calloused, the hands of a man who had lived a hard life, yet they moved with such care and precision it was almost mesmerizing. His fingers worked steadily, reassembling the weapon with ease, the faint metallic scrape of metal against metal filling the quiet room. You found yourself lingering on the scars and faint nicks that lined his knuckles, each one telling a story you’d never hear but could imagine all too vividly. There was a certain grace in the way he handled the gun, a gentleness that seemed at odds with the violence it represented. As he rubbed a soft cloth along the barrel, his thumb brushing the edge, you couldn’t help but think how those same hands had protected you, steadied you, and held you with a tenderness that few would ever believe Arthur Morgan was capable of.

You also couldn’t help but to notice the warm light of the shack caught on the strong lines of his neck, drawing your attention to the veins that stood out faintly against his sun-kissed skin. They shifted subtly with every movement he made, the steady rhythm of his work bringing them into focus as his hands reassembled the weapon with quiet precision. You couldn’t help but linger on the way they traced down toward his collarbone. It was mesmerizing, the way even the smallest details about him seemed to capture you, leaving your heart fluttering as you watched the quiet intensity with which he worked.

“Arthur,” you said softly, your voice drawing his eyes back to you. His gaze softened immediately, and he tilted his head slightly, waiting for you to continue. “I’ve been thinking… after everything that’s happened, I don’t think I’ve properly said thank you.”

He frowned slightly, clearly uncomfortable with the sentiment. “For what?” he asked gruffly, setting the revolver aside as he gave you his full attention.

“For everything,” you replied, your fingers lingering on his hand. “For coming back into my life when I needed you most. For keeping me safe. For just… being here.”

Arthur exhaled slowly, his jaw tightening for a moment before he reached out, his hand settling on your waist as he gently tugged you closer. “You don’t gotta thank me for that, darlin’,” he said quietly, his voice low and warm. “Ain’t like I could stay away from you even if I wanted to.”

The sincerity in his words sent a flutter through your chest, and before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned down to kiss him. It was soft at first, tentative, but when his other hand came up to cup the back of your neck, the kiss deepened, slow and deliberate, like he was savoring the moment while remaining gentle. When you finally pulled back, your forehead rested against his, both of you breathing a little heavier than before.

“You know,” you murmured, a teasing lilt in your voice, “for someone who acts all gruff and tough, you’re a real softie.”

Arthur let out a soft laugh, his thumb brushing absently against your side. “Only for you,” he admitted, his voice low and gruff but filled with quiet affection.

His fingers reach out to trace along your jawline and down the column of your neck over your quickening pulse, the act sending goosebumps over your arms. You can’t hide the rosy blush that flushes over your cheeks and nose as Arthur’s eyes roam your features, drinking in the sight of you like a man dying of thirst. His voice was low and husky as he spoke.

“Have I told you how much I’ve missed you, darlin’?”

“Once or twice.” You barely whisper.

He stood from his chair to stand in front of you, now towering over you as he trapped you in between the kitchen table and himself. His hands slid lower on your body, skimming over your shoulders and down your goosebump ridden arms. Arthur leans in to press a delicate kiss to your collarbone, lips lingering on your soft skin. He gently nips at your pulsepoint causing a soft moan to escape your lips.

Arthur’s quiet desperation for you had settled into every unspoken glance, every lingering touch, every fleeting moment of vulnerability he tried to mask behind his usual gruffness. After so many months apart, the ache of losing you had become a part of him, a constant undercurrent that no amount of danger or distraction could drown out. Now, with you so close again, it was almost unbearable—the way his chest tightened every time you smiled at him, or how his hand brushed yours and he had to resist the overwhelming urge to pull you closer.

The tension between you hung thick in the air, unspoken but impossible to ignore. His hand twitched at his side like he was fighting himself, unsure whether to move closer or keep holding back. You could feel the weight of his emotions—months of longing, of regret, of something deeper he hadn’t yet named—radiating from him, and it made your breath catch in your chest.

“I can’t keep my hands to myself anymore,” he muttered, his voice low and rough, trembling with barely contained emotion. Before you could respond, he leaned in, his other hand coming up to cradle your face as though you might disappear if he didn’t hold you steady. But when you didn’t, when you leaned into him and your hands gripped the front of his shirt, it was like a dam breaking. His lips pressed harder against yours, the quiet desperation he’d been holding back for so long pouring into every movement. His hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you closer, his body tense with the force of everything he’d been trying to suppress.

It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a release, an unspoken confession of all the months he’d spent aching for you, watching from the sidelines, convincing himself he had no right to feel the way he did. “Darlin’,” he muttered against your mouth, “I have to feel you again. I’ve missed you, I’ve missed every part of you.” Your mouth hung open at the confession, and before you could respond, his hands were on the backs of your thighs, effortlessly lifting you onto the wooden table. Your hands clutched at the fabric of his shirt to steady yourself as he roughly set you down and slotted himself between your legs. Everyday, his physical strength mesmerizes you.

Arthur’s large hands cup your breasts, thumbs brushing over the sheer fabric of your nightgown. He groaned at the feeling, his own arousal pressing persistently into your thigh. His lips found yours once more in a searing kiss, pouring all of his pent up desire into it. His hands continued to roam your body, memorizing every single dip and curve and gently kneading your soft skin, wanting to imprint you into his very soul. He needed you like he needed air. When he finally pulled back, his eyes were dark with need and his voice hoarse.

“I adore you,” he said as he tugged impatiently at your nightgown, desperate to feel your skin on his own. Once discarded across the room, Arthur took a moment to simply stare at you, drinking in the sight of your naked form.

“Fucking perfect, darlin’,” he breathed before lowering his head to capture a rosy nipple between his lips. Arthur sucked greedily, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud as his hand came up to massage your other breast. He could feel you arching into his touch, your soft moans spurring him on.

Arthur sank to his knees, pressing reverent kisses onto your inner thigh. He could smell your arousal, the scent driving him wild. He glanced up to your hooded eyes, seeking permission and you hurriedly nod, your mouth partly agape at his desperation.

At your will, he dove in like a man starved, his talented tongue delving between your folds and alternating between broad strokes and circling your clit, determined to drive you mad. Arthur moaned at the taste of you, his hands gripping your hips to death as he savoured your sweet taste and the sweet sounds spilling from deep in your throat.

Your moans grew louder and more desperate, your back arching off of the wooden table beneath you as Arthur slipped two fingers inside, working them in tandem with his tongue as he curled them gently to hit the perfect spot inside that made you see stars. Soon it became hard and fast, his tongue never ceasing his assault on your clit as he felt you tightening around his thick digits.

With a final flick of his tongue and a twist of his fingers, Arthur sent you tumbling over the edge. He lapped up your release like a dog, savouring the taste of you and burning it into his memory while letting you ride out your high on his mustache, the stubble sending shockwaves through your body, all the way down to your toes.

Arthur’s hands never leave your body as he presses open-mouthed kisses to your stomach, his arousal-soaked beard making your sensitive skin shiver. His large hands cup your ass, squeezing and kneading as he grinds his hardness against you, his jeans quickly becoming soaked.

“Look at what you do to me,” he growled against your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. He sits up, reaching for the buttons of his shirt and union suit, and your gaze moves down to where his cock strains against the fabric, a large wet stain coating his crotch. Now it was your turn to memorize him in his most primal state.

“Oh, Arthur-” you moan out as he sheds the last of his clothing and his large cock springs free, already dripping with precum. It’s been oh-so-long since you’ve felt those veins inside of you, and it’s apparent in your gaze at him. He massages his swollen head through your folds, coating himself in your sheen.

“Careful baby girl,” he drawled, his voice low and teasing, “Keep lookin’ that pretty, and I might just forget to pull out.” That alone forces a whiny moan out of you and he couldn’t help but to let out a small chuckle at how pathetic you had become for him.

Arthur teased your entrance, the soft tip nudging against your opening but not quite breaching.

“I need to hear you say it, baby girl.”

“Please, Arthur, I want you-” He waited no time before pushing his full length into you, a moan abruptly cutting off your words.

“Need,” he emphasized, “I need you.” He corrected.

“Yes Arthur, please, I need you.” Your voice quickly turned desperate.

“That’s it, baby girl,” he groaned as he began to move slowly, torturously, burying himself to the hilt over and over as he allowed you time to adjust.

“Always so tight for me. I know it’s been a long time, sweetheart,” he rasped, his fingers digging into your hips so hard it’ll surely leave bruises. At your breathless plea, Arthur couldn’t hold back any longer. He set a steady rhythm, each thrust equally deep and powerful, hitting that spot within you that made you cry out.

Arthur leaned forward to tightly grip the edge of the table by your head to keep steady as he pounded into you. He captured your swollen lips in another searing kiss, swallowing your moans as he drove into you over and over again. It was clear that your bodies remembered each other, moving together in perfect sync as sweat-slicked skin slid against skin.

He broke apart from you and his voice came out low and rough, heavy with emotion. “I missed you, darlin’. Missed you so much it damn near killed me. Thought about you every day… couldn’t help it.”

You felt a slight pang of guilt twist in your chest as you watched him, the weight of leaving him behind all those months ago lingering like a shadow you couldn’t shake. But no matter how far you’d gone, no matter how hard you’d tried to bury it, you’d missed him deeply, achingly, in a way that made being with him now feel like coming home.

“I love you, Arthur,” you confessed once more into his neck as he continued to pound into you relentlessly. “Fuck, I love you!” You cried out.

“I love you too, baby girl,” he moaned as he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead, hips never faltering.

One of Arthur’s hands left your hip and snaked between you both to circle your clit, rubbing the over-sensitive nub in time with his thrusts. He could feel you getting closer, your walls fluttering and tightening around his cock.

“That’s it darlin’, cum for me,” he encouraged, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his own release. He gritted his teeth, determined to hold off until you found your peak. For him, your pleasure came first - always.

Arthur’s hips snapped forward as his fingers worked your clit harder. When your orgasm finally hit, it was like a dam bursting. You cried out, back arching off of the table as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you, and he couldn’t get enough. Arthur groaned at the feeling of you coming undone on him, your walls clamping down on his cock like a vice.

“I meant what I said earlier, about you looking too pretty,” he groaned as he watched you writhe underneath him.

“I know you did.” You smiled sweetly at Arthur, eyes blown with lust. He took that as your permission and buried himself to the hilt inside of you, his hips jerking against yours as he came. His cock twitched and pulsed as thick streams of his hot seed spurted deep within you, painting your inner walls. Each spasm of his member sent another wave of pleasure coursing through you, both of you shuddering at the intensity of it.

Arthur’s head fell forward, resting against your shoulder as he rode out his own aftershocks. He felt his cum mixing with your own, creating a warm, slick mess between your joined bodies. The sensation of his release flooding through you sent a primal thrill through him, a sense of possessiveness and satisfaction.

Slowly, he began to move again, his softening cock still nestled inside of you. He rolled his hips lazily, grinding against you to prolong the moment. Arthur’s hands roamed your body, caressing your curves with reverence. The overstimulation on your clit caused your hands to fly to his chest, gently nudging him off of you. He couldn’t help but to chuckle before pressing a kiss to your temple and sitting back up and pulling out of you.

He grabbed a clean rag by his forgotten revolver and dipped the corner in the warm water in the sink before cleaning you up completely, then himself. You sit up and he offers his hand to help you down from the table, his hand on your hip to steady you as your feet plant on the ground. You two are moving together in perfect tandem as you lift your arms and he pulls your nightgown over your head without ever speaking. He untucks your hair from the back of your dress, pressing one final kiss to your forehead before dressing himself in his union suit.

The rest of the evening passed in a comfortable rhythm. You prepared a simple meal over the fire while Arthur repaired a loose hinge on the front door, muttering about “damn drafty shacks” and “how in the hell anyone lived here.” When you teased him about being domesticated, he shot you a mock glare but didn’t deny it, his faint smile betraying him.

Later, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the room grew dim, Arthur pulled a spare blanket from his pack and draped it over your shoulders as you sat near the fire. He sat beside you, close enough that his arm brushed against yours, and when you leaned into him, he wrapped an arm around you without hesitation, his hand resting protectively on your back.

You couldn’t help but admire the way Arthur always seemed to know exactly what you needed, whether it was a blanket wrapped around your shoulders on a cold night or a quiet word of reassurance when your thoughts got too heavy. He took care of you with a steady, selfless devotion that made your chest ache, as if his sole purpose was to make sure you never carried more than you could bear.

“You don’t gotta worry so much,” you said softly, tilting your head to look up at him. “We’re safe here, at least for now.”

Arthur’s lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze fixed on the fire. “Safe ain’t a word I trust anymore,” he replied, his voice low. “ But I’ll make damn sure nothin’ happens.”

His words settled over you like a promise, and as the fire crackled softly, you closed your eyes, letting the steady beat of his heart against your shoulder lull you into a fragile peace.

The small town of Strawberry was quiet in the mid-morning sun, its wooden buildings bathed in golden light as Arthur rode down the main road. He adjusted his hat, his sharp eyes scanning the streets as he guided his horse toward the general store. They needed more supplies if they were going to last the week out at the shack—a little coffee, maybe some salted meat—and he figured it wouldn’t hurt to check the post office while he was here.

Sliding out of the saddle, Arthur tied his horse to the hitching post and stepped inside the tiny post office. The scent of ink and old wood greeted him as he approached the clerk, who looked up from his ledger with a polite but weary smile.

“Anything here for a Tacitus Kilgore?” Arthur asked gruffly, leaning a forearm on the counter. The alias felt strange on his tongue, but it was safer this way.

The clerk nodded, rifling through a neat stack of letters before pulling one out and handing it over. Arthur glanced at the envelope, his brows furrowing as he noted the sender: Jim Milton. It wasn’t a name he recognized outright, but something about it tugged at the back of his mind. With a curt nod to the clerk, he slipped the letter into his jacket and left the post office, his pace quickening as curiosity gnawed at him.

Outside, he found a quiet corner near the edge of town, away from prying eyes. Leaning against a fence, he pulled the letter out and opened it carefully, his jaw tightening as his eyes scanned the words inside.

Tacitus,

I hope to God you’re still alive to read this. I barely got out that night. Whatever distraction you and niece Caroline stirred up—it was enough. I owe you my life for that, though I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to repay it.

They’ll notice that I’m gone soon enough, so I can’t come back just yet. Not to the family, not to that life, at least not for a while. It’s all falling apart, and I know it’s only a matter of time before it crumbles completely. But there’s something I need to ask you. Something I can’t leave unsettled.

Look after her. Please. She’s stronger than anyone I’ve ever known, but I know you see it too—the way this life is tearing her apart. If there’s anyone I trust to keep her safe, it’s you, Arthur.

If this is goodbye, then thank you. For everything.

-Jim Milton

Arthur folded the letter slowly, his thumb brushing over the edge of the paper as he stared out toward the busy and muddy streets of Strawberry. The knot in his chest grew tighter with every word replaying in his head. Look after her. The plea rang louder than the rest, and it hit him harder than he cared to admit. John had made it out alive, but the weight of the letter—the finality of it—felt like a blow.

Arthur let out a heavy sigh, raking a hand through his hair. Arthur loved you. He never stopped loving you, and now it felt like John was passing the torch, entrusting you to him in a way that made his chest tighten with equal parts guilt and longing. He shoved the letter back into his jacket and mounted his horse, his mind racing as he rode back toward the shack.

When Arthur rode back into the clearing where the shack sat, you were tending to the small fire outside, your focus lost in the rhythm of the flames. The sound of his horse’s hooves snapping twigs underfoot pulled you from your thoughts, and you stood quickly, brushing dirt from your hands. The look on Arthur’s face as he dismounted sent your heart racing—something had happened.

“What is it?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly. “Did something happen in town?”

Arthur didn’t answer right away, his broad shoulders tense as he pulled the folded letter from his jacket. He walked toward you with slow, deliberate steps, the paper held carefully in his rough hands. His eyes softened when they met yours, but there was a weight behind them that made your stomach twist.

“It’s from John,” he said, his voice low. He handed you the letter, his fingers brushing yours briefly before stepping back to give you space. “Go on, read it.”

Your breath hitched as you unfolded the letter, the name Jim Milton scrawled at the bottom catching your eye. You quickly scanned the words, your hands beginning to tremble as the message sank in. Relief flooded your chest first—he was alive. He’d escaped. But the finality of his words, the way he said he couldn’t come back, hit you like a blow. The line asking Arthur to look after you made your chest tighten painfully. By the time you reached the end, tears blurred your vision, and the letter slipped from your fingers, fluttering to the ground. It made you nauseous.

A part of you felt an immense, aching relief—John was alive, safe, free from the horrors of Sisika of what might’ve been if he’d stayed there any longer. That knowledge alone should have been enough, yet it wasn’t. The sharp sting of knowing you might never see him again gnawed at you, the thought of his absence carving a hollow space in your chest that you weren’t expecting. You realized, with a bittersweet clarity, that a part of you would always love John, no matter how much time passed or how different your lives became. But there was also a quiet comfort in his words, in the way he had trusted Arthur to care for you, as though he had given you permission to move on, to find peace and happiness even if it wasn’t with him. It was a fragile sort of freedom, one that left you conflicted and raw, but it wasn’t quite enough to keep you from breaking.

“I—he’s alive,” you whispered, your voice trembling as the tears started to fall. “But he’s gone, Arthur. He’s really gone.”

You sank to your knees, your hands covering your face as the emotions overwhelmed you. Relief mixed with sorrow, the thought of never seeing John again cutting deeper than you expected. Arthur was by your side in an instant, his strong arms wrapping around you and pulling you against his chest.

“It’s alright,” he murmured, his voice rough but steady as he held you. One hand rested on your back, the other brushing softly through your hair as he let you cry into his shirt. “Let it out, darlin’. I’m here.”

For a long moment, you let yourself break down, the dam of emotions you’d been holding back finally bursting. Arthur didn’t move, his presence solid and comforting as his fingers continued to stroke gently through your hair. When your sobs finally subsided, he leaned back slightly, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. His blue eyes were filled with something soft, something unguarded, and the sight of it made your breath catch.

“I know this ain’t what you wanted to hear,” he said quietly, his voice laced with emotion. “But… maybe it’s a chance to think about what comes next. What we want next.”

You blinked at him, your tears still wet on your cheeks. “Arthur, what are you saying?”

He hesitated for a moment, his jaw working as he tried to find the right words. Finally, he exhaled deeply, his hands tightening slightly on your arms. “I’m sayin’… I’m tired of all this,” he admitted, his voice low but firm. “The runnin’, the fightin’. I don’t want it anymore. What I want… is to put it all behind me. To start over completely, wiith you.” He said simply, his eyes steady on yours. “Ain’t nothin’ left worth holdin’ onto back at the gang. But with you… I think we could have somethin’. A life. Somethin’ better than all this madness.”

You pulled back slightly, your mind reeling. The thought of settling down, of leaving everything behind for good, felt impossible. But the way Arthur looked at you, his steady, unyielding presence grounding you, made the idea seem… not so far-fetched.

“I’ve been runnin’ so long, Arthur. I don’t even know what a normal life looks like anymore.”

Arthur smiled faintly, the corners of his mouth lifting in a way that softened the rough lines of his face. “We’ll figure it out,” he said, his voice quiet but filled with certainty. “You don’t gotta have all the answers now. But if you’ll trust me… we can make it work.”

For a long moment, you searched his face, the sincerity in his gaze stirring something deep within you. Finally, you nodded, your voice barely above a whisper as you said, “Alright. Let’s try.”

Arthur’s smile widened slightly, his hands cupping your face as he leaned down to press a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. “That’s all I needed to hear,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

You can’t help but to bite back a bit of a chuckle. “You know, for a man talkin’ about settlin’ down, you sure don’t strike me as the domestic type,” you teased, your grin widening when he shot you a mock glare. Arthur chuckled under his breath, glancing down at you with a crooked smile. “I’ll figure it out,” he said, his tone light and teasing. “Hell, can’t be harder than outrunnin’ the law, can it?”

“Well, I don’t know, Arthur,” you teased, your grin widening. “Domestic life might just be the thing that finally breaks you.”

Arthur shot you a playful glare, “Break me? Nah,” he retorted, his voice dripping with mock confidence. “I reckon I’m tougher than I look. I’ll get a knack for this sorta thing… eventually.” He gave you a lopsided grin.

You shook your head, your laughter softening into something warmer as you looked at him. “Guess we’ll see,” you said quietly, your teasing tone still there, but the weight of your shared future hung in your words.

꧁✰꧂꧁✰꧂꧁✰꧂꧁✰꧂꧁✰꧂꧁✰꧂꧁✰

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