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toxycodone · 3 months

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Deflowered. (Laios Touden x Reader)

content. virginity loss (laios), fluff. a metric ton of it. there's also emotional crying so. watch out.

reader's past/experiences/looks are not mentioned. I wrote this as more as an immersive means of sex with Laios, so physical and mental feelings are the main point. reader has a pussy (for the sake of writing) but this fic is still pretty gender neutral. If you are not a vagina haver/enjoyer/whatever you can gloss over it w/o much issue.

words like pretty/beautiful/etc. are used but in reference to reader AND Laios. gender equality or whatever.

author's note. This fic is one of my aforementioned stretch goals from my fundraiser for Palestine! So yay, thanks so much everyone for funding it!

word count. 6.7k+ (I went too hard on this.)

Like my writing? Toss a dono to the Palestine Children's Relief Fund and join the Fic Raffle! (I will kiss u fully on the mouth).

“Laios…are you even into sex?”

It’s a question he never really saw coming, but now, five months into your relationship, it’s hitting him like a train. You’re looking at him with genuine curiosity, no judgment. It’s simply a question.

“Well…um…”

The blonde has to take a moment to compose himself before answering the question. Despite his closeness to you, discussion of such intimate topics does still escape him.

“I can’t say I’m not interested.” He speaks, now finding his hands much more interesting to stare at than your gaze. “I’ve never really considered how to approach the topic.”

“But you’re interested?” You lean forward a bit. “Do you want to have sex with me?” Usually, you wouldn’t think to be so bold. But conversations with Laios require a certain amount of directness. You don’t want to leave anything up to interpretation.

Laios’s cheeks begin to turn pink. He looks to you now, and it’s obvious the action requires a vast amount of courage from the man.

“I do. I’m…very attracted to you.” He admits.

It’s reassuring to hear him say it out loud. It’s been a long while since you’ve been lusting after him. Spending so much time without acting on it, you weren’t sure if you could take it much longer.

“Good.” You smile to yourself, before continuing. “So…are we going to do anything about it, or…?”

The last sentence is said more in a teasing manner. You’re hoping to break the tension between you and Laios a tad. However, he doesn’t seem especially moved. His gaze leaves you once more.

“I’ve…I’ve never…” He hesitates. “You’d be my first.”

That revelation has you shocked…at least, sort of. Laios is handsome and well-built, but he’s awfully busy. You weren’t surprised to be his first steady relationship, but to be his first time…? Not even a quick romp when he was in the military? Or moving with the caravan? That’s…surprising. But not totally uninvited.

“So you’re a virgin.”

Laios looks ashamed when you say it out loud. He knows that an average man of his age should have a plethora of experience under his belt.

“It’s not that I haven’t wanted to. I’ve never really had a chance.”

Laios’s face burns. It’s embarrassing to speak the truth. You must be disappointed to be with a man like him. A man, psh, if he can even call himself such…

Before his mind can continue its self-deprecating spiral, your voice cuts through the strife.

“I’d be honored to change that, if you’d let me.”

You keep your tone and demeanor sincere. You accentuate this feeling by placing your hand on his knee, reassuringly giving it a squeeze.

Laios looks shocked. Yet…happy. He’s happy. Of course. He should’ve expected this reaction from you. Why was he nervous in the first place? You’re wonderful.

“You want to…copulate with me?”

You snicker. Leave it to Laios to make things abruptly technical. Despite his interest, he’s clearly not fully comfortable with this situation just yet.

“Yes, Laios. I do in fact want to copulate with you. Very much so.”

And many more times after that, you think. But you’d keep that to yourself for now.

“Wow.” The blush on his face deepens. Laios stares at you for a few moments, before smiling.

“Then I’d be honored to have you as well.”

So here you are. After a few days of planning (mainly to ensure Laios’s comfort and preparation), you’re laid across his bed with him at your side.

The both of you took care to really set the mood. Falin’s not home, for one (thankfully she planned on spending this evening with Marcille), and Laios’s room looks a lot more inviting with the couple of candles lit up. It’s romantic yet comfortable. The perfect scenario for what’s bound to ensue.

You gently stroke the fabric of Laios’s nightshirt as you lay beside him. The two of you have been in this scenario multiple times before—often before an intense cuddle session or the occasional make out. This time the feeling was…new, even to you. The atmosphere is tense.

“You okay?”

Laios looks at you. His pale skin is tinged in a rose hue, despite you two not even getting started yet.

“I’m nervous.” He admits. “I mean, I’ve never done this before.”

“I know that. You don’t have to be nervous. I don’t have any expectations, so, you don’t need to worry. I just want to spend time with you.” You press a gentle kiss to his cheek. “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want—“

“I want to!” Laios interjects. He looks almost startled as you by his own enthusiasm, then coughs awkwardly. “I want to be with you. In this way. I’ve thought about it a lot, actually.”

Now that piques your interest. He’s been thinking about you? You can work with this.

“You’ve thought about me?” Your fingers start to trail down his shirt, from his chest to his midriff. “What kind of thoughts, Laios?”

The man tenses, but quickly shakes it off. You notice his breathing pick up.

“Thoughts…of us. What this would be like…” Laios shifts a bit, his eyes follow your fingers as they dive under his shirt.

“Mhm…” You urge him to continue. “Mind if I take this off?”

Laios shakes his head. His night shirt comes off as easy as ever. You’ve seen him shirtless quite a few times, but the sight never gets old. You take a few moments to admire the pleasant softness of his upper body, before looking to him again.

“Go on.”

You work on unbuttoning your top as he speaks.

“I was wondering…” Laios’s train of thought seems to stall as you remove your shirt. His wide, golden eyes drink you in before he snaps himself back to reality. “How you’d feel. The noises you’d make,, I still can’t believe you want to do this with me.”

You roll your eyes internally. If only he could see himself through your eyes. He’d know if anything, he’s doing you an utmost favor by letting you deflower him.

“I can’t imagine who I’d rather be doing this with right now than you.” You lean to chastely kiss his cheek, before moving down his jaw. “You’re absurdly handsome.” Simply kissing his warm skin makes your stomach tie in knots. Gods, you want him inside you.

Laios’s breath hitches. A breathy moan parts the silence before he speaks again.

“You really think so?”

“I know so.”

Soft lips trail down his chest, then linger over the space near his heart. When you press your ear to his skin, you can hear the rhythmic thumps pounding against his ribcage. It makes you smile.

“You don’t have to be nervous, Lai. We can stop at any time. I won’t be mad.” You punctuate your sentence with a kiss to his heart.

Laios smiles, comforted by the gesture.

“I know. I want—well, I’ve wanted. To do this, though. For a while.”

He sits up a little to better see your face. You return his smile, then get back to work.

Laios gently starts to stroke your hair as you kiss down his body. His soft moans and whimpers fill the air. Under your lips, you can feel the skin on his stomach twitch and tense in between kisses.

You let one of your hands trail up his thigh. It doesn’t move towards his crotch just yet, instead, you settle to massage the flesh from over the soft linen of his night pants. You move towards his inner thigh teasingly slow.

The goal here is to rile him up as much as possible. Unlike other men, Laios isn’t just hard and raring to go from his thoughts alone. His own shyness and insecurities still hold him back. But, with his mind clouded with lust, Laios would be likely to let more of his inhibitions go.

After a little more teasing, you finally decide to dip your fingers under his waistband. His breath hitches when your knuckles accidentally bump his groin—even the tiniest moments have Laios reeling. You pause your movements to look up at him, doing your best to hide the smugness you feel.

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He mumbles, then brushes some hair out of your face. He’s smiling and his lips part, but nothing comes out. He purses them instead as if he’s debating something.

You raise a brow, which prompts him to keep talking.

“C-can we kiss? While you do this?”

He asks this almost sheepishly, and it’s enough to make you blush as well. Why the hell does he get to be so cute?

You nod, obliging his request by moving up the bed and leaning forward to press your lips to his. You can feel his lips curl into the gesture. He’s smiling. You swear he’s the most adorable thing in this world.

The lip lock starts out sweet. The two of you take your time to set the pace, pressing loving kisses to each other, before it grows more heated as your hand gently palms his bulge through his underwear. Each movement earns a gasp or groan from the man before you. It’s not long before you feel him start to harden beneath your grasp.

You pull away for just a moment to look into his eyes. Laios’s face is much more relaxed now. He seems to be more focused on the moment.

“May I?”

Your fingers dip below the fabric of his underwear, but don’t dare go further without affirmation.

Laios nods.

“Yes, please.”

He helps you shuffle off his night pants. In respect of fairness, you place his hands on your hips so he can aid you in removing yours as well. Laios bites his lip a bit, his cheeks now fully blooming with a rosy hue. The sight of your bare ass and thighs obviously has him excited.

Next is his underwear. You’re seated in between his thighs as you remove them. It doesn’t come off as eagerly as his pants, but when you press a kiss to his hip he’s more than happy to oblige.

His semi-erect cock is quite a sight to behold,\ It’s not abnormally huge or anything, but the fact that you’re finally seeing what you’ve imagined to be pounding into you for the last few months. The fact that is a part of Laios that no one else has seen—or gets to see— but you? You can barely stop yourself from drooling. You want this thing in your hands. Mouth. Ass. Gods, everywhere it can fit. He could split you in two and you’d thank him.

You spit into your palm, then grasp it. He’s warm and weighty in your hand. You can already imagine how it’d feel cradled by your walls. Your hand slides down the length a few times—earning a choked moan from Laios. It’s pulsing with life and solid now in your grasp. His foreskin moves with each stroke of your hand as precum starts to pearl at the tip, aiding in lubrication.

“Feels better when someone else does it, yeah?” You ask with a smile.

Laios merely nods, nipping his bottom lip.

“Y-yeah.”

Another stroke has him lying his head back in the pillow, groaning. His large hands fist the sheets. You take one and lie it against the back of your head, and almost instinctively, he grips your hair. However, it’s with the same power one may use to hold a sheet of glass. Eh, you think as he settles into this, Laios will eventually get it and get more firm.

You can’t help but give him an experimental lick. Laios makes an odd whimpering noise—but it’s clear it’s in pleasure—so you continue to taste him. It doesn’t have much of a flavor. It’s mostly just like licking his skin, it’s clear he washed pretty thoroughly before. His precum starts to add a bit of a salty tinge as you continue. You make sure to lick down to his balls as well. He’s got a pretty thick covering of blonde pubic hair–but the sounds he makes and the way he curls his toes makes you less than apprehensive to keep working your mouth.

Laios’s lewd sounds fill the air as you continue. His fingers gently brush your scalp for a few strokes, before finding their way to grip you tighter. When you give him a light moan, the reverberations shoot down his cock, and he fists your hair with more passion.

You start to grind yourself against the mattress, but when that’s not enough, you seat yourself as well as you can on his knee and find some decent friction there. Pleasant waves of arousal course through you, down to your crotch as you start to get yourself off a little. This feeling, along with the feeling of Laios down your throat, starts to put you in a bit of a trance.

A desperate noise cuts through the silence. Laios gives a half-hearted tug and grits his teeth.

“S-stop.” He chokes out, causing you to still. You remove your mouth from his length, before giving him an absentminded stroke. “Please. I don’t wanna cum. Not yet.”

You fully remove yourself from him and Laios lets out an audible sigh of relief. You laugh lightly as he begins to regain his composure. That azalea hued blush advances down to his chest now. For someone who’s faced beasts twice his size and kept going, Laios already looks utterly finished beneath you now.

“Why don’t we take a little break, yeah?”

You move up the bed and kiss him on the nose. You know you want him inside you now. But as wet as you are from just grinding against him, you know you need to be stretched open a bit beforehand if you want to take him comfortably.

“Sounds good.” Laios kisses your forehead in return, gently humming. His shaky breaths are starting to return to a normal rhythm.

Now it’s your turn. You lie with your back down on the bed, then look over to Laios.

“Wanna return the favor while you recuperate?” You ask, looking at him unexpectedly. You don’t want to intimidate him or make him feel like he has to do anything at this point. However, Laios’s eyes light up. He eagerly shuffles to be between your legs, before moving to assist you with getting comfortable propped against the pillow on his headboard.

He looks mesmerized by the sight of you through your underwear. The slick on them doesn’t give much to the imagination of what’s underneath. He can barely see the head of your clit poking through as you spread open for him. The sight and smell triggers his overeager brain to lean forward and take a good, long lick.

You jolt a bit, but moan. Laios snaps back, then looks wide eyed at you.

“Sorry! I should’ve asked first.”

He looks sheepish, but not entirely remorseful. You’d roll your eyes, but you’re actually kinda excited. Okay, it seems his nerves are dissipating now. This is good.

“It’s okay.” You move your hand to stroke his hair affectionately. “Do what you want. You can take off my underwear, too.”

Laios’s hands are shaky, but it's clear that’s from excitement. He licks you through your underwear a couple times as an experiment, making you tense, before finally removing them. The sight of you in front of him, finally exposed, makes his jaw drop–almost comically slow. He stares at you long enough to spark confusion (maybe even some nerves yourself), before he finally speaks up.

“What…exactly do I do?”

You snort. You almost forgot he’s entirely clueless.

“Here,” You spread your lips open for him to see. “It’s not super difficult. Anywhere you lick is gonna feel good. But you should concentrate more on these spots.” One finger points to the sensitive mound at the apex of your folds. “This is the clit. It’s the most important. It…kinda feels similar to me how it did when I was sucking on you. But…don’t get too crazy. The clit’s more sensitive, so you wanna be gentle.”

“Hmmmm…” Laios nods, following along with interest. His large finger reaches out and starts to stroke it lightly. You moan in response.

“That’s good. You’re getting it. But add a bit more pressure. That feels better.”

He obliges, and you close your eyes with a smile. The added texture of his fingerpad is what adds more pleasure. That feels good. Laios notices your reaction, then continues. As he continues to play with the nub, he pulls back the head. This seems to enlighten him.

“It has a hood!?” He asks excitedly. “Is it more sensitive underneath?”

“Super sensitive.” You agree. “Again, be careful, don’t just–”

He’s not listening. He gives a gentle lick, then a suck, which has you shuddering. You moan out his name in your own choked voice. Your hands grip his hair. It takes willpower not to shove his face into you just yet. “Gods, Laios. You’re eager.” He chuckles, then licks at you again. You grind against his face in return, which makes him moan.

“You’re getting…slicker. More moist.” He remarks, then licks up some of your wetness. “It tastes weird. But good. It’s like I don’t wanna stop. Must be pheromones or it’s similar to how–…”

“Usually people say wet, Laios. Moist is not super sexy.” You chuckle. It’s important to cut him off now. His language along with incoming tangent would probably unintentionally kill the mood. “But it’s because I’m getting more turned on. You’re making me feel turned on.”

Laios shuffles a bit. You can tell he’s getting harder.

“I like that. I like making you feel this way.” He seems to be more confident now.

“Good, you can make me feel even better with your hands, too.”

He’s curious again. You open yourself once more, then point to the lowermost hole.

“That’s the vagina. The main entrance.” He nods, and you continue. “Before we go further, you’re gonna have to stretch me out. It’ll make everything else feel better and more comfortable for me.”

He looks up at you with a bit of a frown.

“I know what that is.” He pouts. “I’m not entirely clueless.”

Oh.

You chuckle a bit, patting his head affectionately.

“I’m sorry. I just wanted to make sure. You’re a lot smarter than most guys.”

That seems to cheer him up, so you continue. You instruct him to slide one of his digits inside you. He does so, slowly and carefully as you command. His hands are unreasonably large. One digit is actually able to make you feel something as he slides it in and out of you. There’s almost no resistance as he does so, your slick coats his fingers and seeps onto his palm as you ask him to add another. You feel yourself stretch to accommodate them and moan in pleasure. Each movement he makes is extremely purposeful. It’s not just as if he’s trying to finger you, but also get an idea of just how you feel on the inside. The pads of Laios’s fingers gently poke and prod as they continue their movements. He’s enthralled by the texture and feeling of merely his fingers inside you.

“N-now…make like, a scissoring motion.” You ask, starting to feel that typical build up at the core of your groin. Laios gasps as he starts to stretch you out, his eyes lighting up with excitement.

“The human body is amazing…” He speaks as if he’s entranced. “I wonder if I–”

His tongue moves to lick up your slit. You let out a wanton groan, then clutch his scalp. Laios takes this as a good sign and moves to lick at your clit like before. The stimulation along with him still fingering you has your breath stifling. You start to fuck yourself on his fingers and grind into his face.

“Just like that, Laios. Good boy…” You praise, not really thinking about what you’re saying. He whimpers into you, making you groan again. The little vibrations when he does that feel amazing. He continues to moan and whimper as he suckles at your clit. You can hear a swishing sound, something against the fabric of the linen sheets, and when you put two and two together you realize he’s humping the bed under him.

Okay, as good as this feels, you need to put a stop to this. He’s gonna get carpet burn on his dick. And you’re gonna cum on his face and get too brainless to direct this virgin when he’s pounding into you.

You pull him back by his hair, which Laios doesn’t fight against. His fingers still inside you. There’s a small trail of clear spit and slick that keeps his mouth connected to you.

“Pull your fingers out. I wanna ride you now.”

He’s no longer hesitating. The way Laios scrambles off you and eagerly lies on his back is comical. You’re not exactly composed yourself, though. You’re just as ready to hop on and ride him until his brain goes numb.

Laios leans his back against the headboard with you seated in his lap. Your hips almost move on their own, sliding your entrance over his cock before grinding your clit against it. Just this has the two of you orchestrating a symphony of moans. The combination of slick, precum, and spit that forms between your legs and drools down your groins adds a barely audible wet sound in addition. When the cusp of your entrance catches on the head of his cock, you shudder.

You can’t wait anymore. And you’re sure Laios can’t either. You position his head at your entrance and give him a kiss.

“Are you ready?” You ask, pressing another kiss to his forehead. You want him to be sure. Not that you’d think he’d back out at this point, but you’d rather be safe than sorry.

“More than ever.” He responds breathlessly, then kisses you sweetly. You can taste yourself on his lips. “Do it, please. I want you.”

You’re sure to align him correctly, then sink down on his tip. Laios makes what might be the weirdest, yet hottest groan from deep in his throat, while his fingertips dig into your sides.

“Relax…” You whisper, ghosting kisses over his cheeks. You’re not fully composed either, but Laios is going to burst if you’re not careful. “It’s okay.”

He lets his face fall, but his shaky breathing continues as you fuck yourself on his tip, steadily opening yourself up to him. This is better than you thought. Much fucking better. Especially with Laios’s gasps and desperate whines in your ear. The heat that radiates from his body, causing the two of you to work up a light sweat. The way his muscles tense and jolt underneath your body. It’s driving you absolutely wild.

“Laios.” You moan, letting your head fall to the crook of his neck. You know this pleasure is brainbreaking for him, but it’s making you weak in the knees as well. The insides of your thighs burn with pleasure as you continue to take more of him into you. “You feel so fucking good inside me. You fit so well.”

One of his arms raises. His hand cradles your head, but his fingers grip your hair tightly.

“You’re so warm.” The last word falls out of his mouth like a boulder. He’s struggling to speak as if his mouth is filled with rocks. “So, s-so good…” He’s speaking through grit teeth, swallowing harshly like his throat’s suddenly coated with cotton. When you bottom out, resting your ass on his balls, he cries out your name. He almost comes unfurled beneath you at that moment.

The act’s finally done. Laios Touden–No longer a virgin. He’s been deflowered by you.

You bask in the moment. Despite your mind being clouded by pleasure, you take just a second to appreciate him. That ever growing flowery hue lights up his whole being now. Laios face, neck, chest…even parts of his arms and thighs are practically growing red. The rest of his pale skin is tinted with a hibiscus-pink color. Laios’s head is lolled back. His open mouth has a small trail of drool running from it. You lick it up happily, then meet him for a kiss.

“Look at me.”

Your command gently wakes him from his trance. Laios’s golden eyes peer at you lazily.

“You’re not a virgin anymore.” You chuckle, then kiss that broad nose bridge of his. He smiles and leans his forehead against yours.

“Thank you…” He breathes out. His eyes shine with adoration now.

“I should be thanking you. It’s not every day one gets to take the virginity of someone as pretty as you.”

Your compliment makes his breath stifle. You give him another loving kiss, which he eagerly returns.

You start to move now, which Laios responds to with a whimper. He tries to roll his head back again, but you wrap an arm around his shoulder and use your hand to direct his gaze where you two connect.

“Look at us.” You say between gasps. “The way we fit together. You were made for me.”

His brow furrows, but his eyes widen in awe. Laios’s hands remain perched on your hips as you ride him. He moves awkwardly to match you, but his thighs and legs betray him when jolts of gratification surge through him. He tries to cough out a response–something, anything–but can only manage a drawn, pitchy whimper. You let your eyes fall closed and set your forehead against his again.

For now, you let yourself enjoy the moment. You and Laios exchange breaths, gasps, and groans as you guide yourself up and down his length, then bottom out once more to grind your clit against his pubes and groin. Laios creates his own cacophony of odd noises that you can assume are due to pleasure, and they send swirls of delight through your brain and down your spine.

Each movement you make makes you crave more. More of him. The way he smells, sounds, feels–its all encompassing. It makes you want to consume all of him, drain him the way he’s drained your thoughts these past months. You could never imagine it’d feel this way. Laios isn’t gifted at sex by any means, but the emotional connection between you two is what heightens the physical aspect. Knowing you’re his first, how much he trusts you, desires you–it makes your mind cloudy. He belongs to you. You have him in the most intimate way possible now. An unforgettable moment for the both of you.

You clench around him and grit your teeth. It’s almost as if you’re telling him this now–he’s yours. The noise he makes when you do that is unnatural. It’s guttural–almost primal.

“I’m gonna cum!” He chokes out, his body shaking with tension. You immediately stop your movements and relax. Not like this. Not yet, if you can help it.

“Hey, hey, settle.” You coo in his ear, now kissing whatever skin you can reach. “You don’t wanna cum just yet, right? I was hoping to give you the reins.”

Laios’s breathing is rapid, as if he just ran a mile. You coax him out of his stupor, trying to aid him in learning to contain himself. For someone with little experience, he does have a lot of willpower. With a little more time to gain his brain back, he’s able to get halfway cognizant and look at you once more.

Your hips slide up, ever so slowly, and you let him fall out of you with a wet pop. That would’ve been embarrassing if the two of you weren’t so incredibly turned on. You hop off him now, then beckon him to climb on top of you. When he does, you anchor your thighs on his hips.

“I figured you’d wanna try your hand at this. Hold yourself up and I’ll give you a hand.” You prop yourself up a bit to look between your legs. Laios grabs his cock, and you help him guide it towards your entrance. “It’s probably gonna slip out if you’re not careful, so keep close to me.”

He nods and slides in without issue. You hum in delight at the feeling of being full again. You let Laios thrust his hips into yours a few times and his hefty balls smack lewdly against your ass as he does. He’s focused, biting his tongue a little as he tries to see which angle and speed gets a proper reaction from you. He’s cute. And the fact he’s thinking of your pleasure on an evening that’s supposed to be about him is endearing as well.

You beckon him forward, then lock your arms around his neck to bring him closer to you, the typical missionary position. Laios keeps most of his weight on his forearms as he casually pumps into you.

“You’re doing a good job.” You gently play with his hair and look lovingly at him. Laios always fills you with the warmest, fuzziest feeling when you look into his eyes. It spills out like water when you have him like this. “You’re perfect. Everything I could want in a man.”

Laios’s brows furrow. You can’t tell if it's in concentration or what. You kiss his forehead softly as his eyes flutter closed.

“You’re everything to me.” He says in a firm voice. His pace begins to pick up, his pelvis starting to dig into yours. “You. I–, I just…can’t believe you’re here with me. You’re so beautiful...”

He’s really picking up the pace now. It makes your grip tighten on his hair. Laios is losing himself in you, and you let him. His length barely leaves you before thrusting right into you again. Sweet words and strangled noises pool in his throat and tumble out with fervor.

“I love you.” He whines. It’s said with enough devotion to make your heart ache. “I love you…Love you…” He gasps. You feel his cock twitch inside you. He starts to drive into you like a madman now. He has little tact, but you don’t mind. It feels good nonetheless to watch him fall apart before you like this. Feel him lose his composure just from the workings of your body. Your own peak starts to approach on the horizon.

“I wanna stay with you forever. Wanna be yours.” His balls create a slightly steady beat as they slap against your bottom. The wet, squelching sound of your hole being pounded fills your ears along with Laios’s moans.

“I love you too.” You respond, letting your fingers comb through his sweaty bangs, moving them from his face. Words come easier since you’re still more composed than he is. It’s clear Laios is exceptionally vulnerable at this moment, so you tell him things he probably needs to hear. “You’re so easy to love, Laios. Just by being you.”

That seems to do something to him. His head falls in the crook of your neck and his arms slide under your shoulders to pull you as close as possible. His entire weight now leaning on you knocks the wind out of you a bit, but you’re able to recover quickly. All you hear is jagged breaths and strangled cries as he pumps into you wildly. A wet warmth starts to gather on your skin. You think its drool.

A few more desperate thrusts of his hips has him coming undone completely. It’s everything but graceful as Laios reaches his peak. It’s obvious his orgasm tears through him like he’s paper. Not only does he almost completely fill you, but his sounds are grossly guttural, and the way his body tenses like stone and curls into yours before he slumps against you is testament to that.

You roll with it, though, and simply pet his hair, whispering sweet nothings to him as you do so. He shudders against you, hiccuping softly against your skin. As you bask in the moment, you feel your combined slick start to squeeze out of you a bit. It’s still warm, but it makes you shiver. You stayed hugged against Laios for a while before he finally starts to remove himself from you.

You’re shocked when you catch a glimpse of his face. His eyes are puffy, nose runny. There’s tear stains down his cheeks. He wasn’t drooling. He was crying.

“Hey.” You hold his jaw in your hands, frowning a bit. “You okay? What’s wrong?”

He doesn’t dare look you in the eyes. His nerves eat away as him as he sniffles. It’s a little bit of a pathetic sight.

“I-I don’t know. I just…you said all those nice things to me, and I just–” His tears start coming again, and you shoosh him. There’s a lot of hormones floating around. You’re sure that’s making him emotional, granted, on top of all his insecurities surrounding his own self-worth.

“I meant what I said. I love you, sincerely.”

Laios’s breathing starts to even out a bit, but tears still fall. He brings your palm to his mouth, gently kissing it.

“I know. But that’s what makes me feel this way even more. I just…can’t believe you’re with me at times. You’re so wonderful.” He looks at you with such adoration. It’s sickeningly sweet.

“You are too. I wish you could see yourself through my eyes. Then you could at least begin to understand how I feel about you.” You continue to wipe his tears with your free hand. Laios shakes his head, almost in disbelief.

“I’ll never understand what makes you want to put up with me. But I'm over the moon that you choose to do so.”

“And I always will. Loving you is effortless. Stop referring to it like it’s a job. ” You casually flick his forehead to lighten the mood. Laios snaps out of his own head and returns to the moment with a soft “ow”, before beginning to laugh.

A laugh escapes you now. You sweetly kiss him on the nose.

“Now, stop crying, dummy.” You tease. “You’re gonna make me cry too,”

Laios chuckles as you wipe his tears. He grasps your wrist, then brings your hand closer for him to kiss.

“I’m the smartest man in the world if I’ve already decided I want to spend my life with you.”

So what he said earlier. He meant that. Laios sees a future with you…You start to feel a little overwhelmed by emotion now, but settle on squishing his face in your hands and pushing him away.

“Dork.” You chuckle. Laios’s laughter fills the room now. There’s so much mirth in the room, before he starts to look contemplative again.

“Wait…did you?” He raises a brow. “I couldn’t tell if you finished.”

Oh. Here comes the awkward truth. You weren’t expecting to get off and you had a lot of fun, but you’re not sure if that’s enough for him.

“I…no.” You answer honestly, but are quick to reassure. “It’s okay, though. Don’t feel pressured. You went through a lot right now, and I still had fun. I’m happy.”

He’s not.

“But I wanted you to…” He pouts. “You deserve it after what you did for me.”

You’re about to reassure him that hey, it’s fine. You could cuddle and just chill out, but you catch his curious gaze trail down to the shiny wetness of your crotch. If he’s willing…

“I mean, if you want…” You look up at him. “Only if you feel like it. I can show you how to get me off again. But in a different way this time.”

His brows raise, eyes shining with interest. He nods, now sitting up on his knees as if awaiting instruction.

You tell him to lie on his back and tell him about your plans. Facesitting is an entirely new thing to him, but he’s totally on board with the idea. He’s practically drooling as you describe it to him. The tension and eagerness builds up with a quickness. You hurry up and get your shins seated on either side of his head, ready to get this show on the road.

“This still alright with you?”

You look down at Laios. He’s staring at your wet, cum soaked pussy like it’s a gourmet meal.

“Fuck yes.”

That’s the first time he’s cursed all night. He must have a thing for oral. You’ll be sure to keep that in mind.

You lower yourself onto him, careful not to put all your weight on him just yet. Laios laps at you excitedly. He’s never been the most refined eater in the first place, and the way he sucks and licks at you is as if all manners flew out the window. Your thighs shiver as you let more weight onto his face. Holy shit. He seems to be a quick learner. That, or his enthusiasm to please shines through when it comes to oral. He’s so voracious it makes your head spin.

You cry out expletives and start to rock against his face. Laios’s arms wrap around your waist, pulling your hips down onto him. You lean as much weight as he can take. It doesn’t seem like you phase it at all.

With your slit flush against him, you can feel everything. His tongue dragging across your sensitive skin, diving into your hole as he lets you fuck yourself on it. Warmth builds in your core, making your jaw clench. You alternate between grinding your clit on his nose and letting him suckle at it. It’s phenomenal.

“I’m gonna…” You’re cut off by a moan. Your thighs tighten around his head. “Laios!”

He heeds your warning, now focusing on letting you ride his tongue. You grind your clit against his nose as you finally come undone, that warm familiar feeling spreading from your groin down to your thighs. Your legs clench around his head. The moan that you elicit from his lips while you do that has you shaking.

When you’re ready, you climb off his face, flopping on the bed beside Laios. The two of you are spent. At least for right now. Laios pulls you into his arms, letting your head rest gently on his chest. As you lie there, the sound of his heartbeat lulls you to drowsiness.

“That was the best moment of my life.” He speaks up. “I just…” Laios laughs at his loss for words. He’s never been good with them, but even finding one to describe how he feels right now seems like an impossible task. “I love you. I love you so much.”

“Love you too.” You murmur against his skin. This was a lot, physically and emotionally. But you’re glad you did it.

“I feel like I could lie here forever.” His voice starts to taper off, as if he;s feeling wistful.

“Mmmmm…” You mumble in agreement. Falling asleep with your face flush against Laios’s boob sounds ideal, before you’re reminded of the cool wetness between your thighs. It was sexy at first, but now it’s starting to grow uncomfortable. “I–We, gotta clean up, though. I feel gross.”

“I kinda like it.” Laios admits. “Being covered in you…us. It’s nice to see our fluids together.” His fingers brush between his own legs, gathering some slick between his fingers. “It’s kinda like slime. Man, I wish I could have those noodles again.”

You furrow your brows in disgust at first, but Laios’s words make you snicker. Of course, he somehow relates this to monsters. Then, to food.

“Well, the faster we get cleaned up, the quicker we can eat.” You begrudgingly stand on shaky legs. Laios is quick to steady you, before standing up himself.

“You’re right. I’ll pay. I owe you one after all this.” He kisses the top of your head. Laios starts to walk away towards the bathroom, but not before you land a decent smack on his ass. The man yelps, before staring at you wide eyed. The handprint that lingers due to how pale his skin is is comical.

“C’mon. You owe me a shower.” You kiss the underside of his jaw, then walk ahead of him.

Laios rolls his eyes and smiles, happily following after you.

#laios touden #dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi x reader #laios x reader #laios touden x reader #reader insert #dungeon food #delicious in dungeon

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nereidprinc3ss · 6 months

Text

come on home

in which the only person who can comfort you after your breakup with spencer reid, is spencer reid

inspired by the song "summer's end" by the artist currently known as phoebe bridgers

wc 2857

warnings: gn!reader (correct me if im wrong), minor mommy issues, angst, happy ending

a/n: thank you to the person who requested this:) u r an angel and I listened to this song the whole time i wrote (if you haven't heard, listen!!) i sincerely hope you enjoy, i like this one a lot<3

She hung up on you.

Forty-seven minutes of being insulted and berated after you’d called her looking for comfort, and you put up with every single cruel word—just for your mother to hang up on you. And it’s exactly the kind of thing she’d do, so you shouldn’t be surprised. An ache, you’d expect—but it shouldn’t sting like this. You thought you knew better.

Now you’re in a ball on your couch, clutching your phone to your chest and crying. There’s no point hiding it. Your roommate is out with her girlfriend for the evening—which is too bad because even though you feel like being alone, you’re sure that’s the wrong call. Your other friends are out having fun tonight, too. They’d even invited you, but you turned them down. Look where that had gotten you. Obviously, your mother is not the person you’re about to run to for comfort, either.

You try to pretend, while you’re thinking of all these people who have ever cared for you, that Spencer Reid isn’t on your mind at all. You try to pretend like you don’t care that the person who loved you until you believed you actually deserved it is a contact going stale deep in the bowels of your text cache. With bleary eyes you scroll down, looking for your conversation where it gathers dust—the end of your relationship was a mutual decision, and you’re friendly, but you haven’t texted in a few weeks. Probably because every time the conversation starts to feel a little too easy, or the phone call lasts a little too long, that aching void in your chest gets worse and worse. Like pain in a phantom limb, you become acutely aware of what you do not have and how much it hurts.

So blame it on the tears, or the mind-muddling melodrama of your relationship with your mother, blame it on anything but the truth—when your thumb drops on that call button like the plunger on a syringe, you don’t regret it.

What you’re not expecting is for him to answer after the first ring.

“Hi,” you say with a snuffle before Spencer can get a word in. There’s a brief interlude, in which you pick at your nails, comfortable to just sit in silence if that’s what he wants. As long as he’s there.

“Hi.” Hearing his voice instantly melts a bit of the weight you hadn’t realized you were carrying. Another pause, for which you remain silent, because you can feel him formulating a question—and you’d like to hear him speak again. “...am I allowed to ask if you’re okay?”

Your lips purse and twist to the side, pained and comforted by how easily he can tell that you’re distraught. One word across a tinny connection, and he knows.

“No. Yes. I mean... I guess that’s why I called you. But you don’t have to ask me about it.” You sniff again and take a deep breath. “How was your day? What state are you in?”

“I’m in the district,” he answers after a moment, easing into a casualness that he likely doesn’t feel for your sake. Wind crunches through the speaker. He probably just got out of work. “My day was... it was good. I got to talk about my job to a bunch of elementary schoolers, which is always a confidence boost.”

You chuckle, still laying on your side on the couch and watching storm clouds gathering outside.

“Nice, nice. What else?”

“Let’s see... I forgot lunch, so I had three oranges, and they were actually pretty good. I reread Game of Thrones—I don’t know why I did that. I’m never going to like that book.”

“Masochist,” you smile. He laughs, and you hear the sound of a car door opening.

“Oh! I talked to my mom. Believe it or not, she says hi.”

A completely inadvertent snort constitutes your response. It’s not what you meant to do, and out of context it’s sort of mean, but you actually think it’s incredibly endearing that he still talks to his mother about you. He scrambles to explain himself.

“I swear, we barely talked about you this time. Mostly we talked about her new boyfriend Leonard.”

“No, no, that’s not... I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you or your mom. That’s really sweet, actually. Tell her I say hi too.”

When he next speaks, you can hear the smile in his voice.

“I will.” Another long pause. You imagine him sitting in the parking lot at Quantico, keys vertical in the ignition of his old car and feeling the silence just as much as you are. He surprises you by not ending the conversation—instead he asks a question. It is concern, poorly disguised with nervous humor. Or maybe you just know him too well. “Do I get to find out what’s on your mind, or are you leaving me in suspense here?”

You bite the inside of your cheek.

“Um... well, actually, I just got off the phone with my mom, too. It didn’t go so well,” you laugh halfheartedly, “I know it was dumb to try and have an actual conversation with her, but... you know me. Always following blind optimism to the depths of hell.”

“Why’d you call your mom?” he asks, so gently it brings a fresh round of tears to your eyes. Still, you attempt to put a cheerful affect on your strained voice.

“Mm, you know. Just needed someone to talk to.”

Spencer’s knowing sigh does little to make you feel better.

“You know you can always talk to me, right? I know it’s... it’s different now, but... I care about you a lot. And, you know, I receive very few phone calls, so the line is pretty much always open.”

Your laugh quickly devolves into a cry.

“I appreciate that, but I can’t talk to you about everything.”

“Why not?” he pleads immediately, voice thin and desperate like it’s his most burning question. A million lies dance over the tip of your tongue. A million things that feel safer to say than the truth. But in the end, it comes out anyway—choked, and so quiet, but aloud nonetheless.

“Because I’m trying really hard to stop missing you so much.”

Another long beat of silence. The back of your throat feels dry and hollow—a cage for your hummingbird heart.

“If it hurts too much to talk to me, you don’t need to do that to yourself. But I also don’t want you to hurt yourself thinking you’re alone. You are... so important to me. I will always try to take care of you the best I can—whether that means staying away or being at your front door. If you ever need me, or even... vaguely want me, I will be there.”

Each word caves your resolve. Each syllable is a slap in the face to progress you’d been pretending to make. You can be strong—you've proven that over the past ten weeks. You can be stone-faced and slash at your heart until the scar tissue is thick and jagged, and eventually it won’t hurt anymore. But maybe, by letting someone tend to the wounds, they’ll heal a little nicer. A little kinder. Even if you can’t undo the damage, maybe one day you’ll be soft again.

“What if I vaguely want you right now?” you sniffle.

Finally, you hear the silver jingle of keys turning. The sputter and rumble of an old engine coming to life.

“Then I’m on my way.”

Twenty four minutes later, there’s a soft knock at your door.

After the call had ended, you’d wondered if you made it all up. Surely your ex-boyfriend wasn’t actually about to show up at your apartment. Someone you’ve grieved for can’t just come back—there are countless horror novels and movies based upon that very tenet. Does it matter if they ever actually died? How long is ten weeks, really? It feels like a lifetime.

You shuffle across the room, wiping under your eyes with your already damp sleeves, and undoing all the locks Spencer had conditioned you to start using. When the door cracks open, and you see Spencer standing there, windswept and concerned, for the first time in months, it hits you like a tidal wave. You are, beyond a shadow of a doubt, still just as in love with him as you ever were. The relief that floods your veins as he looks down at you with so much care in his eyes is like sinking into warm water. It’s a dead giveaway, and maybe it makes this whole thing a terrible idea, but you can’t seem to care very much. You open the door wider, and he enters, and he stands in your kitchen with his hands in his coat pocket as you shut the door and he’s perfect. It dawns on you that for the first time since the breakup, you feel safe. Like you don’t have to be a stone pillar anymore. This, of course, translates into even more tears, which you try to hide as you face away, re-locking the door.

“Sweetheart...” he sighs, because you can’t hide anything from him. Hearing the resonance of his voice so close to you once more is overwhelming. In an instant you’re rushing into his arms, and he accepts you without hesitation. You bury your teary face in the vetiver safety of his button-up and slip your arms under his coat, as if you could absorb his warmth and forever hide from the world that way. He pulls you even closer. It’s terrible and cruel how much he is exactly what you needed. “What’s wrong? What did she say?”

You shake your head and gasp a small sob.

Truthfully, you’re not really crying about the petty insults from your mother anymore. You’re back to square one, the reason you’d called your mother to begin with—you miss the man whose arms are currently wound around your shoulders.

His hand smooths over the back of your hair.

“Okay. That’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it.”

You stay like that—content even as you cry because being with him feels so much safer than being alone. It feels right—or perhaps it’s just familiar. You don’t know which is worse.

Spencer is rubbing soothing lines up and down your back as you cling to him, soaking him up in all his ephemeral, comforting glory. He surprises you by chuckling—it vibrates through his chest, buzzing against your ear.

“Nice Magritte print. I bet the person who bought that has fantastic taste.”

“Are you gonna ask for it back?” you mumble into the fabric of his suit jacket. He is, of course, referring to the painting you’d more or less stolen from his apartment seven months ago. You really don’t want him to take it home. It’s the most overt Spencer memorabilia you’d allowed yourself to keep in plain sight.

“No, baby. You can keep it.” The words are low, and kind, and they settle you some, but you can’t seem to get him close enough. “What can I do?” he whispers after a moment, helpless as you take a shuddering breath. “Can I make you tea? Have you eaten?”

“Will you just... stay for a little bit? I’ll—I promise I’ll stop crying.”

There is an unexpected lull where you thought you’d receive pretty immediate agreement, but before you can pull back and ask what’s wrong, he murmurs, “yeah. I can stay for a while. But you have to kick me out before it gets too late.”

You wonder if you’re imagining the double-entendre that seems to underline his words in bold red ink. Spencer is too smart to have not noticed a thing like that. You don’t mention it—it all boils down to the same unspoken idea.

Don’t let me stay, because I might not leave.

“I will,” you sniff, finally stepping back and wiping your own tears. It hurts to lose his touch, but at least you know he’s not going anywhere for the next few hours. This, as opposed to everything else lately, can be a beginning instead of an end.

At least, until he goes home.

Three and a half hours later, after tea, an impromptu dinner comprised mostly of cheese and crackers, and several vinyl changes on your record player (which served only as background noise for your long, ambling conversations), things are seeming to wind down to a natural stopping point. Which you hate. The whole time you’d had a dull ache in your chest because talking to him was easier than breathing and you knew it wouldn’t last. There had been one or two false bottoms already—the first when you’d yawned around nine, and the second when you’d gotten up to do your skincare and brush your teeth half an hour later. Even then he’d just leaned against the doorframe, watching your reflection above the sink as you talked for fifteen more minutes. Now you stand across from each other in the kitchen, plates restacked and everything in order. Of course he’d insisted on helping you clean up.

“I should go,” he says, with a soft sort of finality in his voice.

“Is your carriage turning into a pumpkin?” you tease gently, to hide how much you don’t want him to leave. He smiles—a small, weary thing—but genuinely and endlessly charmed by you.

“That among other things.”

“Would you—would you walk me to my room first?”

The hesitance is clear in his eyes and the way his lips part as if to say, ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea’, but you're sure he’s really going to leave in a moment and you’re also sure he won’t deny you this one small thing before he does.

“Okay.”

It’s a short, silent walk through the living room and down the hall to your bedroom door, but you can feel him trailing behind you the whole way. You stop in front of your open door, turning face to face with him.

“Thanks,” you murmur.

His lips pull into a melancholy smile.

“Anytime.”

There’s nothing left to do but wrap your arms around each other once more, tuck yourself into the you-sized space between his head and shoulder and hold on for as long as he’ll let you. The hug lingers for longer than is wise. Spencer adjusts his arms looped around your waist, pulling you closer, and you nuzzle against his neck, grateful that at least he seems as reluctant to let this end as you are.

But eventually, it relaxes. Your hold on each other loosens. His face is just inches from yours, and you get to study every plane and valley and line like you’d thought you never would again. It seems he’s doing the same—losing himself in the luxury of seeing you up close.

“Will you kiss me goodnight?” you whisper, unable to muster any self-consciousness though you know it’s a fool’s errand. Spencer strokes your waist.

“I can’t do that, honey.”

“Why not?”

His voice is just as quiet as yours. It falters slightly as he speaks, so gently, so patiently.

“Because we’re not together anymore.”

“Why not?”

Your feeble, desperate supplication sounds pitiable even to you. You’re not proud, but you can’t find it in yourself to be ashamed, either. All you want is an answer. But it’s like a child asking why the sky is blue, or the earth is round. There is a definitive explanation, but mostly, the adult will shrug, and say, that’s just how it is.

Spencer’s eyes squeeze shut. His head tilts down.

“We can’t do this again, sweetheart. You know why we’re not together.”

In theory—yes. You’d had so many conversations when you’d broken up. It had been a long, painful process, spanning multiple all-nighters at his kitchen table, nursing coffee and trying to convince each other and yourselves that it was the right choice. But it just feels like a horrible, horrible mistake. You feel desperate to explain this to him before he slips away again—the words come out flustered, inelegant as you cling to him.

“But I don’t think I’m getting better without you. I tried, I tried so hard to be good on my own, but everything is worse and harder and—and we weren’t sure about it then, and I don’t think it was the right choice, because I still really need you. Like, all the time. I’m—it’s not getting better without you. Nothing got better.”

He swallows, eyes darting between yours for an infinite second. You’re breathless and your heart is pounding after your confession—you can feel your eyes stinging with the few tears that managed to escape as you spoke.

“Everything is worse,” he agrees shakily. “Everything. I’m—I’m getting disciplinary infractions from Hotch like I’m a child because I can’t focus on anything. Game of Thrones is the most complex literature I can comprehend right now. I had to use a calculator the other day.”

You want to laugh, but nothing is funny until he’s yours again.

“Then come back. Please come back, Spencer.”

Finally, he leans closer, until your heads are pressed together, and his nose bumps yours, feather light. You're dizzy. You exhale. He inhales.

“I don’t think I knew how to leave in the first place.”

When he kisses you, it feels like home.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds

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helen-with-an-a · 3 months

Text

I am an adult pt 6

Hiiiii. I just wanna say thank you so much for everyone's support and love while writing this series - it means so much to me. This part was very easy to write but also emotionally draining ahahaha. Ik I did a poll and a lot of people said they wanted 1 really long fic, but I've split it into 2 halves instead cos it was so long! Also a massive shout out to @lyak12 who helped me a lot with the plot and hyped me up- forehead smooches for u. Anyways, I hope you enjoy.

Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 3.5 : Part 4 : Part 5 : Part 6 : Part 7 : Epilogue

Barça Femeni x reader / Lena Oberdorf x Reader

Description: R faces the consequences of her actions

TW: It's very emotional and hints of R's bad mental health

Word Count: 6.6k

You genuinely had no idea how you ended up at the beach. One moment, you were in the changing rooms with your life falling apart around you – your shattered dreams and splintered relationships crashing to the ground. And then you were on a quiet bench near the sea wall, legs tucked under your chin as you sat silently, broken in so many ways.

The gentle breeze carried the tangy scent of saltwater, mingling with the faint aroma of sunscreen and something fried wafting from a nearby snack stand. The waves relentlessly lapping at the shore rhythmically, the repetitive sound a soothing melody to help you drift away in the stillness. Time seemed to blur as you stared out at the vast expanse of the sea, lost in the chaos that was your mind.

You didn’t need to look up when you felt a presence standing next to you. You felt the bench dip as they sat down, not bothering to speak. You stayed silent for a very long time. You had no idea how long you had been there – minutes, hours, perhaps even longer. But as the bright blue sky began to shift into a blaze of fiery oranges, soft pinks, and deep purples, you realised that it had been long enough for the day to give way to the dark blues of the evening. A lone tear trekked down your cheek; you didn’t bother wiping it away.

“They hate me,” you finally said. You heard your companion sigh quietly, a sound filled with empathy and understanding.

“They’re scared,” Esmee countered, her voice soft and soothing. You didn’t respond, the weight of your thoughts drowning out the gentle reassurances offered.

"I fucked up," you admitted after a few too many minutes, the rawness of your confession cutting through the silence. It was Esmee’s turn to be quiet, her expression a mixture of compassion and thoughtfulness.

“We all make mistakes,” she said after a beat, her words a gentle reminder. Well, that was the most Esmee response ever. You turned to look at her, the fading light casting shadows across her face.

“This was more than just a mistake.” you insisted, your voice sounding weak and far away.

“You were hurt. You needed comfort. Something that you couldn’t find in Barcelona.” Her words hung in the air between you.

“I hurt them,” you said resolutely.

“Yes, you did. But I don’t think you meant to.” You could always count on Esmee to offer the truth. Some people thought she sugar-coated things, but you always found that she just said things in a way that was honest yet kind.

You fell back into silence, both of you looking out to the horizon. You had no thoughts wandering across your mind. No voice in your head or niggling feelings. You were just numb. It could have been minutes or hours; you weren’t sure.

“C’mon. Let’s go.” Esmee encouraged, standing up and offering her hand.

“I, um,” you cleared your throat. “I don’t have my keys or anything.” You looked up at her with big, wide eyes.

“That’s ok,” she smiled.

The silence in the changing rooms was deafening, broken only by the sound of shallow breathing. No one dared move. The only noise was the door clicking softly shut behind you.

“Qué quiso decir? Por qué no le renuevan el contrato?” It was Martina who was brave enough to speak up. Bruna looked up from her intense stare at her boots. All of the younger girls' eyes fell on Alexia. She was their captain, and they needed her to navigate these choppy waters. Alexia blinked. No one had mentioned the possibility of the club not extending your contract. She knew you were able to go on a free at the end of this season, but she had assumed you would sign for Barça again, at least for a year or so. When she had seen those pictures of you in Germany, she thought something had looked a little off. Even through the pixels, you looked so … distant. You clearly did not look comfortable there. At first, she chalked it up to nerves about meeting your new teammates and guilt that you were caught in the act. But now … now she wasn’t so sure. There was a tightness to your face, your usually bright and animated eyes looked clouded, and a subtle sadness in your posture.

“N-no sé.” Alexia breathed, clearly dazed.

“Ella no puede irse.” Vicky insisted. You and Vicky had a unique bond, one that often drove the older girls insane with your misbehaviour.

“She doesn’t have a choice.” Kiera reminded her softly, bringing an arm up to comfort the youngster. “A club doesn’t have to offer anyone an extension if they don’t want to, for whatever reason. Y/N has to leave Barcelona if she wants to play football next season.” Keira had always been a voice of reason in the team; she always had an great understanding of the dynamics at play both on and off the pitch.

“Pero … por qué?” Vicky looked around.

“I’m not sure,” Keira answered honestly.

“Ella no se está transfiriendo?”

“Not willingly,” Keira smiled weakly.

It wasn’t until you stepped through Esmee’s front door that you realised you'd never actually been to her place before. You weren’t the best of friends; she usually hung out with Aitana, Ingrid, and Frido – the quieter girls on the team, quite the contrast to the lively bunch you, Cata, Pina, and Ona could be. Her flat was distinctly Esmee: neat and tidy but with a warm, inviting atmosphere. The shelves were littered with pictures of friends and family, and the walls were filled with colourful art. Her couch looked cosy, with a soft green throw draped artistically over the back. “Do you want some tea?” she asked kindly, smiling as she gestured to the kitchen. You returned her smile with a soft nod. Why was she being so nice to you? You had been a raging arsehole and deserved nothing but the harsh words Lucy had hurled your way.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I told the others you’re with me,” she said apologetically, handing you a steaming mug. You nodded again, your heart sinking a little. “They aren’t going to come round, at least not tonight.” Was Esmee a mind reader? How else would she know you were anxious about them coming over?

“How did you find me?” You asked sometime later. It had stumbled across your mind when she first appeared next to you.

“You mentioned that you like to go to the beach to think.” Have you mentioned that? “After training, I drove along the front until I saw you.”

You stared into your refilled mug; the steam curled upwards and danced in front of you. “I didn’t know you knew that,” you murmured. “I didn’t think anyone knew that.” It was true; you don’t think you had ever mentioned the long walks along the beach you liked to take in the early hours when you couldn’t sleep. The fresh air helped clear your mind, the movement of your body helped to get the blood flowing again, and the peaceful nature helped soothe your soul.

Esmee shrugged, a gentle smile on her lips. “I notice people.” Her words hung in the air between you, warm and comforting like the tea you held. You glanced up at her, feeling a flicker in your chest.

“Thank you,” you whispered sincerely. She nodded back at you, settling back against the sofa, sipping on her own mug.

Ona was conflicted. On one hand, she was immensely relieved that you were safe. You weren’t lying dead in a ditch somewhere or injured and in a coma, unable to identify yourself to anyone. The scenarios that had been playing in her mind for days were far worse than the reality. She had been losing sleep, haunted by the fear that something terrible had happened to you. Knowing you were okay was a weight off her shoulders. But on the other hand, a heavy sense of betrayal gnawed at her. You hadn't trusted her enough to tell her anything. She thought about all the times you had confided in each other, sharing secrets and dreams and comforting each other during tough times. She was your best friend, the one who had always been there for you. And yet, you ran a thousand miles away without a word, without a hint of where you were going or why.

The hurt she felt was deep and raw. How could you not have trusted her with your plans? Why didn't you believe she would understand or help you through this? Her mind swirled with questions and doubts, each one cutting deeper than the last. She wanted to be happy that you were safe, but the sting of your secrecy made it hard to fully embrace that relief. The bond you shared felt strained, and she couldn’t shake the feeling of abandonment.

And now you had disappeared again. When she finally stepped foot on the pitch, she had thought you would have been there too, waiting for training to start. But you were nowhere to be found. Ona scanned the field, her eyes darting from one familiar face to another, hoping to catch a glimpse of you. Her heart sank with each passing moment. The coach blew the whistle, signalling the start of practice, but her mind was elsewhere. She couldn't focus, the worry gnawing at her insides. It must have been one of the worst training sessions she had had in a long time.

She had broken one of Alexia’s steadfast rules – no phones at training. Ona checked her phone obsessively, hoping for a message or a missed call from you. Nothing. The knot in her stomach tightened. She wondered if something had happened again or if you had chosen to vanish this time without a trace, leaving everyone behind to worry and speculate. Her phone buzzed.

Esmee: I’ve found her. She’s safe. I’ll bring her back to mine when she’s ready. E

She could have cried. She was fairly sure she had. Relief washed over her, mingling with the painful ache of betrayal. At least you were safe, and that was the most important thing. As she stood there, clutching her phone, Ona resolved to be patient. She would give you the space you needed, but she would also be there, ready to listen, when you were finally ready to talk.

You woke up the next morning in just as much of a daze. It took you a moment to realise you were on Esmee’s couch, the unfamiliar surroundings disorienting you even further. You hadn’t slept well. You tossed and turned as much as possible on the small couch, the spare bedding Esmee gave you tucked up around your chin. When you did sleep, it wasn’t much better; the nightmares that your mind dreamed up made you even more tired than before.

The quiet chatter from the kitchen pulled you from your not-quite sleep. “That’s up to her to say, Mapí,” Esmee said softly. You could imagine her face, the small apologetic smile and pinched eyebrows.

“Pero... sólo quiero saber, por qué? Ella de dijo algo anoche?” Mapí implored further. Of course, Mapí would be grilling Esmee. You could see her arms moving around as she spoke.

“Min skjønnhet, stop bugging Esmee” Ingrid cut in. You could envisage Ingrid’s soft smile and gentle hand moving comfortingly across Mapí’s shoulders.

“No, mi corazón. Necesito saber por qué se fue del puto país en lugar de hablar con nosotras.” she all but shouted, a guilty look flashing across her face as she registered her volume.

“María.” You didn’t need to be in the room to see Ingrid’s unimpressed look.

“Mapí, I’m not going to betray her trust like that. I found her, I took her home, she stayed the night. Ask her yourself.” You had never heard Esmee sound so tough. Your heart swelled at the thought of her protecting you. Sitting up slowly, you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and listened more intently.

Mapí sighed, the sound of a chair scraping back as she sat down. “Aunque estoy muy enojado con ella. No creo que pueda hablar con ella sin gritar.”

“I know,” Ingrid reassured her, her voice softer now but still firm.

You took a deep breath, gathering the courage to finally face them. The floor felt cool beneath your feet as you walked towards the kitchen, the soft murmurs of their conversation growing louder. As you entered the kitchen, three pairs of eyes turned to you. For a moment, no one spoke. The air was thick with unspoken words and raw emotions. Mapí stood up, her movements hesitant. “Por qué te fuiste sin decir nada?” Her voice was trembling, and you could see the effort it took for her to keep her tone steady.

You swallowed hard, trying to find your voice. “I...” you took a deep breath. “I don’t know. I just needed out,” you confessed.

“Y pensaste que desaparecer sin decir una palabra era la mejor manera de hacerlo.?” Mapí’s frustration was evident, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. You had no words. You had no reason, no excuse for your behaviour.

Ingrid stepped forward, her face a mask of disappointment. “Do you have any idea what you put us through? We were worried sick, thinking something terrible had happened to you.”

“No puedes simplemente huir de tus problemas y dejar que nosotros recogamos los pedazos.” Mapí added

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at each of them, their disappointment bearing down on you, crushing you. You had never felt so small, so utterly ashamed of yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, the words barely audible through your tears. “I never meant to hurt any of you. I was just... overwhelmed. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“We understand that you were struggling, but that doesn’t excuse what you did. We’re your friends, and we deserve better than to be left in the dark like that.” Ingrid sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “We care about you, but you need to understand that your actions have consequences. You can’t just expect us to forgive and forget.”

“I don’t expect you to.” You refused to meet her eyes, gaze fixed firmly on the tabletop. “I really am sorry,” you whispered out, blinking rapidly to try to stop the tears. Feeling the weight of their words settling heavily on your shoulders, you knew you had a long road ahead of you, one filled with apologies and making amends.

Alexia couldn’t allow herself to feel all the emotions she was feeling. She had to be the strong one, for the team, the one who held everyone together when everything seemed to be falling apart. But deep down, behind the facade of strength she presented to the world, she was crumbling. Fear, anger, and grief churned inside her, threatening to consume her whole. She wanted to scream, to cry, to lash out at the unfairness of it all. But she couldn’t. She had to keep it together ... for the sake of those who depended on her.

Her training was one of the best she had ever done. She focused solely on the ball at her feet. Her passes were stronger, her shoots were faster, her tackles harsher. Each movement was driven by a mix of determination and frustration. Yet, no matter how much she threw herself into her sport, the ache in her heart remained. The weight of your absence hung heavy in the air, a constant reminder of the betrayal she felt. You had received some terrible news. News that had blindsided you into fleeing the country. And you hadn’t confided in her. That was what made her the most … angry wasn’t the right word. Sure, she was so incredibly angry with you for running away. Even when you had all the legal trouble last year, she had never been this angry with you. But now that anger mixed with pain. You had begged her, pleaded with her to treat you more like an adult. And the first thing you had done when times had gotten tough you had acted like a child. Rather than asking for help, reaching out to those around you … those who loved you like family … you had fled. No word, no explanation, no nothing. You left. You left the team. You left her.

As she sat in the solitude of her car, the weight of your actions bore down on her like a heavy burden. The betrayal cut deep, slicing through the layers of friendship and trust she had built with you over the years. She wanted to understand, to offer you comfort and support in your time of need. But the hurt ran too deep, leaving behind a bitter taste of resentment and disappointment. How could you have kept such a monumental thing from her? Had she made you think you couldn’t come to her? Why? Why? Why? The questions swirled in her mind, unanswered and unresolved, adding to the confusion already in her heart.

Esmee graciously drove you back to the training ground to retrieve your belongings. Grateful that it was only an afternoon session, you silently thanked the heavens for the deserted car park. It was eerie, walking through the silent corridors and into the empty changing rooms. You tried very hard to not think about the events of yesterday, focusing on the speckled flooring and the wooden benches as you dug through your bag to get your keys. You would be back that afternoon, so the kit could stay in your locker for now. Your phone was dead, unsurprisingly, but you knew Lena would have spammed you in the meantime.

Returning home felt surreal. Evidence of someone's presence lingered—dishwasher humming, blankets neatly folded. The thought of Ona or Alexia, perhaps tidying in anticipation of your return, tugged at your heart. The house, once brimming with life, now felt suffocatingly empty. Each room echoed with your absence, the memories of laughter and warmth now hauntingly distant. Moving through the familiar spaces, you felt like a ghost, your steps muted by the plush carpet beneath you. Every corner held a fragment of the life you would have to leave behind, each one a bittersweet reminder of what once was. Yet, as you moved from room to room, a sense of disconnection enveloped you, as if you were a stranger peering into a life that no longer belonged to you.

Your phone buzzed, and buzzed, and buzzed. Lena’s texts were coming through.

L💚: How was it?

L💚: Did u speak to them?

L💚: Is everything ok?

L💚: Schatz?

Missed call from L💚

L💚: Helloooooooo

L💚: Schatz?

Missed call from L💚

L💚: Ur really scaring me

L💚: Schatz ????

Missed call from L💚

L💚: Please

Missed call from L💚

L💚: Bitte

Missed call from L💚

L💚: WHY THE FUCK HAS ALEXIA JUST TEXTED ME TO TELL ME U DIDN’T TELL THEM U WERE IN GERMANY????????

L💚: PLEASE TELL ME U TOLD THEM U HAD LEFT THE FUCKING COUNTRY

L💚: WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK

Missed call from L💚

L💚: Y/N !!!!!!!

Missed call from L💚

L💚: ANSWER THE FUCKING PHONE

Missed call from L💚

L💚: PHONE ME !!!!!!!!!!!!!

The last message dated from only 30 minutes ago.

Incoming call from L💚

“Schatz, what the actual fuck?” Lena almost shouted down, the Facetime picking up her distress.

“I … I …” you felt a tear escape. “Fuck,” you said, harshly wiping it away.

“This makes me look so bad. Do you get that?” You did get that. To the team, she was now the girlfriend that aided and abetted your horrific actions. “I know. And I’m so, so sorry, Leibe,” you whispered, your voice breaking with emotion.

“Why? Why didn’t you tell them?” she questioned again.

“I wasn’t thinking. I needed … out. I needed to get away. And it was all so fast and …” your explanation trailed off, a weak defense against her justified questioning.

"That's not good enough, Schatz. They're your friends. Did you think they wouldn't care? Did you think they wouldn't help? I'm trying to understand," Lena's tone softened slightly.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I fucked up massively. And I have no explanation for any of it.”

Lena let out a frustrated sigh, her features creased with concern. “You can't run away from your problems, Schatz.”

“I know,” you said, the guilt weighing heavily on your heart. “And I promise I'll do better. I'll make things right, I swear.”

“Wirst du das tun, wenn wir jemals streiten? Wirst du auch einfach verschwinden?” Lena's voice trembled with uncertainty, her fear palpable.

“No, never,” you replied immediately, the sincerity in your voice echoing through the connection. “I won't ever leave you. I promise, Lena. I love you.” Lena scrutinised you for a moment, searching for truth in your eyes. Finally, a glimmer of hope flickered in hers.

“Okay ... just promise me you won't shut me out like that. We're supposed to be a team, remember?” Lena implored. You nodded earnestly. “And make this right with the team. You can’t leave like this, especially not with Ona and Alexia.”

Lucy's fury surged like a tidal wave, threatening to engulf her and everything around her. Never before had she felt such a consuming anger, a tempest of emotions raging within her. How dare you, she seethed inwardly, her clenched fists trembling with unrestrained fury. The words reverberated in her mind like a relentless echo, each syllable fuelling the fire of her indignation.

The betrayal cut deep, slicing through the bonds of trust with surgical precision. How could you drop that absolute bomb of information on the team and then just leave? The question echoed in Lucy's mind, a refrain of disbelief and betrayal. Her chest heaved with the unspoken words, the air thick with the tension of unresolved anger.

Every fibre of Lucy's being screamed for justice, for retribution against you, who had callously shattered their trust. The image of Ona’s face burned in her mind like a brand, a scar etched into her memory. She had looked so scared, so fragile and raw. But beneath the raging storm of anger, there lurked a profound sense of hurt, a painful vulnerability that threatened to consume her. How could you do that to everyone? Did they mean nothing to you? Did Ona mean so little to you? The wounds of betrayal ran deep. Lucy found herself adrift in a sea of conflicting emotions, struggling to make sense of the chaos that had engulfed their once-unified team. The anger burned hot and fierce, a relentless inferno that threatened to consume her from within.

The changing rooms didn’t hold their usual pre-session chatter. There wasn’t a loud, bright atmosphere as people greeted each other and slipped into their workout gear. There was no gentle undercurrent of excitement for the day. Instead, it was spookily silent. A few low murmurs were uttered here and there as people passed, but there was no conversation, no high-fives, or laughter.

You had arrived at training early, hoping to avoid any awkwardness. As you entered, the stillness was almost suffocating. Mariona was the only other person there, her cubby positioned directly opposite yours. You both went about your routines in an awkward dance of avoidance, her presence a constant reminder of the tension that now defined the space. Seeking refuge, you slipped into the bathroom, deliberately taking longer than usual. The routine tasks of washing your hands, tying back your hair, and applying suncream felt almost meditative, a brief respite from the silence that awaited you.

Moving like passing ships in the night, you and Mariona drifted around each other, the silence punctuated only by the rustle of clothes and the soft thud of locker doors.

“Entiendo,” Mariona said suddenly, breaking the silence. Her voice was calm but firm, and your head whipped up in surprise. Her words hit you with the force of a confession, their gravity making you feel like she had just admitted to something far more serious. “I understand … I’m terrified, and I’m leaving voluntarily.” The admission hung in the air, starkly contrasting the heavy silence from earlier. “I can’t imagine what it's like for you.” A lump formed in your throat as you struggled to find the right words.

"I didn’t mean to hurt anyone," you whispered, your voice barely audible. The weight of your words was palpable, each syllable a testament to the regret you felt.

Mariona’s eyes softened, but the tension remained. “Yo sé eso.” You nodded at her words. Your mouth opened to say more, but you were interrupted by the door swinging open and Irene, Marta and Caro walking through the door. You snapped your mouth shut, dipping your head down and turning back to face your locker.

The trio's arrival brought with it a fresh wave of awkwardness. Their conversation, though low and cautious, filled the room with an attempt at normalcy. You focused on your locker, trying to steady your breathing, feeling the weight of their glances. Irene, always perceptive, gave you a fleeting look of concern but said nothing. Marta and Caro exchanged glances, sensing the tension but unsure how to address it.

Slowly, the rest of the team trickled in. It was obvious that you would be participating in this session in silence. No one made a move to talk to you, to even greet you. Not until they had the all-clear from Alexia. You waited until you were one of the final few in the room. Turning, you caught sight of Ona and Lucy whispering in the corner. Ona’s face was still slightly puffy, her eyes still red as she picked at her nails. Lucy’s lips were pressed into a thin, hard line, the corners turned downward in a scowl, her eyes flicking in your direction occasionally. Her body was taut, every muscle seemingly coiled and ready to spring. Shoulders squared and rigid, she stood with a stance that was both defensive and confrontational. Her hands balled into tight fists and trembled slightly with the force of her suppressed rage. Her breath was measured as if she was struggling to maintain control and not let the anger consume her entirely. You hurried out of the room, rushing to leave the couple to their conversation.

The training session was one of the most awkward and painful things you had ever experienced. You stood quietly, tucked away at the end of the line, as Jona started the warmups. Trying to avoid drawing any attention to yourself, you focused intensely on the basics: placing one foot in front of the other, the rhythm of your breathing, the movement of your body. You hoped this would keep your mind occupied and distract you from the palpable tension around you.

When it came time for partner work, you found yourself lingering silently, waiting for a few uncomfortable moments before turning to the trainers. With an odd number of outfield players, someone had to be paired with one of the staff. Today, it seemed like that someone would be you. It wasn't the arrangement itself that bothered you; rather, it was the underlying implications. There was an air of exclusion that hung heavy in the atmosphere, making you feel like an outsider in what was supposed to be a team activity. The most unbearable part of it all was the not-so-subtle looks being thrown your way. It was clear that people were talking about you during the water breaks. Jana would frequently glance in your direction, only to be slapped on the arm by Pina as if reminding her to be discreet. Vicky appeared to take a tentative step toward you, possibly to offer some form of solidarity but was quickly redirected by Bruna, who nudged her in another direction. These interactions left you feeling isolated and self-conscious. Every whispered conversation, every sideways glance, seemed to amplify your sense of alienation. You could almost hear the silent judgments. This wasn't just a training session; it was a stark reminder of your outsider status, of how much damage you had done.

The scrimmage at the end was no better. Thankfully, Jona had made the teams for the final 7 v 7. Was it karma that he had placed you on the left wing with Lucy as the opposing right-back? Maybe. But you couldn’t deny that you deserved every shove, every tackle that she gave you. She seemed to be toeing the line between unprofessionalism carefully. She never left a lasting mark on you, but you could tell each push was personal.

As the exercise progressed, Lucy's aggression became more evident. She was relentless, pressing you harder than she did anyone else on the field. Each time she shouldered you off the ball or slid in with a perfectly timed tackle, you could feel the underlying animosity. It wasn’t just about winning the ball; it was about sending a message. If it were a normal day, a day when you hadn’t messed up so unbelievably badly, you would have shoved back or shouted a little. But you couldn’t do that. Today, you were paying for your mistakes, and Lucy was more than willing to collect.

So, you took it. Every time you were sent to the ground, you didn’t question it. You didn’t wait for the whistle to be blown or hope that someone would extend a hand to help you back up. Instead, you popped back up, shook yourself off, and continued like nothing was wrong like your whole life wasn't crumbling around you. Each time you hit the grass, the sting of the impact seemed to echo your emotional bruises. But you refused to show it. You forced yourself to remain strong. You could break down again later. You pushed through the scrimmage with grim determination, aware of the eyes on you, aware of the judgment, but unwilling to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing you break.

Despite the bruises and the rough treatment, you managed to stay on your feet more than you had thought you would do. You moved through the motions, running up and down the small pitch, crossing balls into the box, and tracking back on defence. But every action felt hollow, your mind a swirl of what-ifs and if-onlys. The final whistle came as a relief, yet also with a sense of dread. You knew the real battle was far from over. As Jona dismissed you for the day, you helped the trainers collect the equipment, hoping to delay your return and allow the others time to leave peacefully.

As you walked through the main doors back into the building, you noticed Alexia. Standing strong and unimpressed, leaning against the wall. You went to speak but thought better of it, nodding once and smiling uneasily instead. As you moved to walk past her, she stopped you, a warm hand wrapping around your wrist.

“Nosotras necesitamos hablar.” Her voice was sharp, a firmness that was hardly ever directed at you … not since the trouble from last year. You nodded, your voice unable to work.

You followed her through the maze of corridors until you reached a seldom-used meeting room. Was it a coincidence that it was the same room you had the meeting with the State Officials in and first told them about Lena? Maybe, but you wouldn’t put it past Alexia to have chosen it specifically. “Sentarse.” Her voice held a harshness to it that cut through you like a knife. You deserve this. You deserve this. You hurt her. You hurt everyone.

“Since you wanted to be treated like an adult, we will talk like adults.” You nodded. God, why couldn’t you speak? It wasn’t like you hadn’t been in trouble before. Maybe it was because this was such a personal mistake. When you hadn’t completed the forms on time, yes, it had been your fault as you were the person responsible, but there was a somewhat clear-cut way to fix it. It was laid out for you. But this … this was something you needed to navigate like an adult. No one was going to help you this time.

Alexia pointed to a chair, and she pulled out her own. “Explicar.” Her command was simple, really. But where could you begin? Where should you start? You were clearly taking too long. Alexia huffed, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow at you. You sank into the chair, feeling the weight of her gaze bearing down on you. How could you explain the mess you had made? The knots in your stomach tightened as you struggled to find the right words. Despite your best efforts, your breath quickened, and your fingers had a mind of their own as they started to pick at the dry skin around your nails.

"I... I don't … I don’t know … where to start," you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. Alexia's expression softened ever slightly, but her impatience was palpable. She had never seen you look so young. Even when you were in the hell that was the legal trouble last year, or the wide-eyed teen that turned up on her doorstep at the request of the club, with a single suitcase and a dream.

"Just start from the beginning," she urged, her tone imperceptively gentler now. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves.

“I got a phone call from Paul … my agent,” you swallowed, staring harshly into the table, refusing to meet Alexia’s eye or even look in her general direction. “He said he had just got back from a meeting with the club.” You stuck to the facts, no emotions, no elaborations, just facts. You couldn’t … wouldn’t … cry if you stuck to the simple facts. “He said they couldn’t afford to keep me next season.” You stopped.

It was clear to Alexia that that was as much as you could say about the situation without breaking. You were so similar in that way. Both of you refused to cry in front of someone else, not unless you were truly comfortable and perfectly safe around them. Did you not feel safe around her anymore? Had she broken your relationship? No, she stopped those thoughts in their tracks. You had broken the relationship, you, not her … then why did she feel like she was to blame, at least partially?

Alexia watched you carefully, her heart aching at the sight of your pain. She wanted to reach out ... to comfort you. No. She held herself back. She knew that now wasn't the time for softness, not when there were hard truths that needed to be faced. “What about Germany?” Her voice was still icy, cutting through the heavy silence like a knife. What about Germany? Germany was where Lena was. Germany was safe. Germany had Lena. You took another steadying breath, pushing down everything that was threatening to overwhelm you.

“Lena phoned me. She said either I went to her or she came to me. She had the Pokal final, so I went to her.” Another pause. “I needed to think. To breathe. To …” you trailed off. You let out a shaky breath, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“Todavía no entiendo.” She admitted after a moment. You nodded, biting your lip so hard that you started to taste blood. A tear plopped onto the wooden table in front of you, another one joining quickly afterwards. “Por qué … why didn’t you tell someone? Anyone?” Alexia's question pierced through the haze of your thoughts, demanding an answer you weren't sure you had. Why hadn’t you done that? You honestly had no explanation for it. You just needed out. Out of your house. Out of Barcelona. Out of Spain. Every time you looked at your phone, all the emotions came flooding back like a tsunami. So, you didn’t look.

“I don’t know,” you croaked, your voice barely audible over the sound of your own racing heartbeat.

“Eso no es lo suficientemente bueno.” Alexia's words were severe, a reminder that there would never be a good enough reason to justify your actions. You knew that. You knew that there would never be an excuse that could erase the hurt you had caused. You nodded. “Mírame,” she demanded after a moment. Your head remained down, but your eyes drifted up.

Alexia looked in pain. Not the physical pain – you had seen the uncomfortable look she had when she had tweaked her knee again or the scrunch of her eyebrows when an opposing player left her mark on her. This was different. This was emotional pain, etched into the lines of her face, shadowing the brightness of her eyes. As you watched her struggle to contain her emotions, the guilt pierced your heart tenfold. Your actions had caused her pain ... had shattered the fragile peace she had worked so hard to maintain. “Por qué no viniste a mí?” Once she asked that initial question, the floodgates opened. “No querías que te ayudara? I could have done something. I could have spoken to the club or something, anything. Em culpes?” She finished her sentence in Catalan. She thought you blamed her? You didn’t know what to say. The dam broke. Hot, fat tears rolled in a steady stream down your face.

“Never, Alexia. Never. I never, ever blamed you. I promise. It’s not your fault. It’s on me, it’s all on me. I’m not good enough for the club. For anyone. Of course, they want to renew you and Lucy over me. You deserve it so much more than me. This isn’t anyone’s fault but mine.” It was a mismatch of languages. Some sentences in English, some in Spanish and Catalan, and others in German. “I fucked up so badly. I don’t even know what I was thinking. I … I couldn’t ... I needed to … I don’t even know. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. You don’t deserve any of this. I fucked up so horrifically.” Alexia had never seen you so upset. It was clear she needed to intervene when she noticed your breathing quickening. You were hyperventilating now, apologies still streaming from your mouth. With a gentle hand, she reached out and placed it on your trembling shoulder. She didn’t think you even noticed it.

“Cariño. Breathe.” She instructed. Eventually, you slowed down, your breathing and heart rate returning to a more normal level. “Thank you for apologising,” she said when you had fully calmed down. “I’m not going to lie and say that I’m not hurt. And I’m not quite ready to forgive you. But I think there is more to this story than just you. You should not have been blindsided like that by the club. But your actions …” You nodded.

“I truly am sorry, Ale, um, Alexia.” You really wanted to hug her, but you knew you weren’t quite forgiven enough for that yet. She stood, offering a weak smile to you as she left the room, leaving you to your own thoughts.

I hope you enjoyed <3<3<3<3

542 notes · View notes

spencerlicious · 4 months

Note

could i request emily x polyglot!reader? someone finds out r can speak multiple languages, so naturally derek challenges her and em to see who can speak the most languages

so emily and r get into a language competition (?) and the 2 make a bet of whoever wins, gets a special prize from the loser *wink wonk* pls? it starts with innocent foreign banyer then ends up gettin dirtier if that makes sense? top!em pls 😊

thank u for reading, if ur not comfortable its all good! :D

hi anon!! thank you for the request <3 this is a super good idea, i was very excited to write it. it kind of morphed from your request a bit, but the main idea is still there. i do want to specify that i am by no means fluent or even proficient in any of the languages used in this fic (besides english 😭) because let’s be real— 4 years of spanish did *not* stick with me, so i used quite a bit of google translate. you might want to keep it handy too! i hope you enjoy :)

p.s. this is my first fic in a very very long time, please be kind <3

love language

emily prentiss x fem!reader

rating: 18+ MDNI

warnings: smut, cursing, oral (r receiving), fingering, dom!emily, i think that’s it?

w.c.: 1.3k

It was a long day for the members of the BAU. Back-to-back-to-back cases on short amounts of sleep were starting to wear on the team, and it didn’t help that the current case was stumping them.

“Oh, look at this, guys,” Morgan says, showing a picture from the newest crime scene. “Looks like there’s some writing in another language.”

You drop your head into your hands, taking a deep breath as you try to reset yourself and focus on the case.

“Looks like French, where’s Emily?” JJ asks.

You study the picture for a second before speaking up. “Dire la vérité— tell the truth.”

Morgan’s eyes cut to you. “Y/N, you speak French? And really, where is Prentiss?”

You’re about to respond as the door opens and Emily walks in from the bathroom. “Emily, did you know Y/N speaks French?”

Her face is surprised. “Huh. I didn’t. What else are you keeping from us?” She jokes.

Your eyebrows raise and you smile. “I speak a little bit more than French,” you say, not wanting to brag.

“What other languages do you speak?” Reid asks curiously.

“Well, French, and also Spanish, German, and Italian. Mostly Romance languages,” you say.

“Here’s a challenge,” Derek says. “Which one of you can speak in a different language for the longest?”

“¿Cómo no sabía que eras políglota?” Emily asks, effectively starting the competition.

“Nunca surgió en la conversación,” you respond plainly.

She laughs. “¡Podríamos haber estado teniendo conversaciones secretas todo este tiempo!”

“¿Qué tipo de conversaciones secretas te gustaría tener, Prentiss?” You say, raising an eyebrow.

She blushes slightly, flustered. She switches to French, trying to keep you on your toes. “Eh bien, je ne sais pas. Des trucs qu'on ne veut pas que Morgan écoute.” Her eyes flit to Morgan’s as she mentions him and he looks confused.

“What are the two of you talking about? And what are you saying about me?” He asks, looking between you and Emily.

You let out a small chuckle. “Tu ne veux juste pas que Derek m'entende te traiter de jolie et qu'il devienne jaloux, hmm?”

“This is all well and good, but shouldn’t we be getting back to the case?” Reid interjects.

“Yes, definitely,” you say, straightening your hair and pulling yourself back into focus mode.

After some more discussion on the use of a foreign language at the crime scene, the team decides to break for lunch. You take a quick trip to the bathroom and end up washing your hands at the same time as Emily.

“So, what was that?” She asks.

You’re caught off guard. “What was what?”

“You think I’m pretty,” she replies. “You told me I’m pretty in French. What was that about?”

You stammer a bit. “Well, I do think you’re pretty, Emily. I think you’re beautiful,” you admit.

“It’s interesting,” she says, stepping closer to you and placing a hand on your waist. “You speak three romance languages, and while it’s not the same meaning, you picked the most romantic language to compliment me in. Even if I couldn’t tell from the long glances and the way your heart is pounding right now, that alone would’ve told me what I’m pretty sure I know,” she finishes, looking you dead in the eyes.

Her hand is heavy on your waist and your mind is racing. “And what do you know?”

Emily’s other hand trails from your shoulder to your jaw and pulls your chin up so you’re forced to look in her eyes. “You have feelings for me,” she states.

You hold her gaze for a second. “I hate profilers.” There’s a noticeable tension between the two of you before Emily smirks at you. You feel yourself inching closer to her and then you’re pressing your lips to hers. She reciprocates the kiss without hesitation, and you feel her hands pull you in by your hips.

The kiss gets broken and Emily rests her forehead on yours as you catch your breath. Your eyes meet and you share a smile. “Embrasse-moi encore, s'il te plaît,” you say softly.

“Oui chérie,” she replies, already leaning into kiss you again. Her lips meet yours in a passionate kiss and she pushes you up against the door of the bathroom. She flips the lock of the door. Emily doesn’t want anyone interrupting.

Emily’s breath was warm against your neck as she kissed the tender skin. Pulling the collar of your shirt aside, she sucks a deep purple mark into your collar bone, drawing soft whines from you. “Shhh baby, don’t want the others to hear you, right?” She says, kissing the skin she marked soothingly.

She switches languages again and whispers in your ear. “¿Que quieres, hermosa?”

You meet her eyes and can feel the lust practically radiating off of Emily. “Want you to touch me,” you respond.

Within seconds, she’s on the floor in front of you, unzipping your slacks. Her fingers trace you through your panties. “You’re soaked, baby,” she says.

“For you,” you say, bracing your hands on the wall behind you as she teases you.

Emily pulls your panties down and rests your leg on her shoulder as her fingers find your clit. It’s almost electric, the way she rubs tight circles into the bundle of nerves. “Emily,” you moan out her name.

Her ministrations stop, causing you to whine out again at the loss of contact. “What did I tell you? Not a sound, or I’ll stop completely.”

You nod, covering your mouth with one hand as Emily runs her tongue through your wet cunt. She groans at the taste. “You’re fucking delicious,” she says, voice deep and dripping with arousal. It’s nearly impossible to stay quiet as her lips close around your clit, teeth gently scraping, making your legs tremble.

Your hands find a home tangled in Emily’s hair as you hold her face close. Her tongue slides back from your clit to your entrance. Your teeth clamp down against your lower lip as Emily’s tongue plunges inside of you. Her face is wet with your slick as she tongue fucks you, the sight alone bringing you close to the edge.

Emily then licks back through your cunt, sucking on your clit as she pushes a finger inside of you. Clouded in pleasure, you can’t focus on anything except the need to cum as she adds another finger and your walls are clenching around her. “Squeezing me so good baby, you want to cum?” she asks.

Your head nods frantically. “Yes— please, wanna cum,” you say breathily.

Emily curls her fingers up to press against that spongy spot inside of you. “Cum for me,” she commands, returning to suck at your clit as she hits your G-spot over and over again.

Your body shakes as she sends you over the edge of your orgasm. Her name is falling from your lips in a quiet whisper as you soak her fingers and face.

“You did so good for me,” she says, standing up and kissing your temple.

Catching your breath feels difficult, but you begin to fix your clothes and look presentable.

“Это было так хорошо, озорная девчонка,” Emily says, fixing her lipstick in the bathroom mirror.

“You may have just rocked my world, Prentiss, but I did not gain the ability to speak Russian,” you laugh.

The two of you make eye contact in the mirror, which starts you both up laughing, when a knock sounds from the door. You freeze, flushing in embarrassment.

Emily unlocks the bathroom door, opens it, and finds an impatient JJ awaiting you. “What are the two of you doing? We have an unsub to catch,” she says, turning around and heading back to the rest of the team.

Emily throws you a wink and follows after JJ.

You’re pretty positive this isn’t going to be a one-time thing.

#emily prentiss smut #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss #criminal minds #emily prentiss cm #emily prentiss criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds smut

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heroes-among-us-all · 1 year

Text

A Perfect Match

summary: Chisaki isn't looking forward to meeting his soulmate, at least not until he discovers that you are Quirkless.

tags: soulmate!au, fluff, fem!reader

It’s just so annoying. Even though he’s lived with it all his life, Chisaki swears he’ll never get used to seeing that godforsaken timer counting down. It’s always there, in the corner of his periphery, and it only ever disappears when he shuts his eyes and lets everything fade to black.

A soulmate mark. That’s what it’s called. People have different variations of it—some know the first words their soulmate will ever speak to them, some have a red string tying them to their soulmate that only they can see, and others, like him, have been stuck with a timer since birth that tells him how much longer until he meets his soulmate for the first time.

And based on how much time is remaining, it looks like he’ll be meeting his soulmate today.

Chisaki isn’t excited. If anything, he’s dreading the encounter, and he just wishes it would hurry up and be over with. At least then, the timer will disappear, and it’ll be one less thing grating at his nerves. He doesn’t believe in the phenomenon of soulmates, he has no desire for trifling matters such as love, and for a man who loathes being touched, he can’t imagine it would work out anyhow.

Much of the day goes as planned. He helps Pops with some paperwork, cleans up the office to keep all those pesky germs away, and Chisaki briefly wonders how he’ll even meet you, since he intends on staying home all day.

“Chisaki,” Pops suddenly says. “Would you mind going out into town and buying me a few things? I wrote a list of what I need.”

Ah. So, that’s how.

“Of course,” Chisaki nods, and he puts on his jacket before slipping his shoes on by the door. “I’ll be back soon. It won’t take long.”

Seriously, it really won’t. Regardless of the fact that he’s going to run into you, he has no intention of staying and chatting. He’s going to reject you right on the spot. Soulmates aren’t real, anyways. What a stupid notion, to think that someone’s greatest love can be predetermined.

Chisaki adjusts his mask more tightly, then steps outside. He reaches the store quickly enough, and although he hates having to touch things that countless strangers have laid hands on, his gloves provide him with a thin layer of protection from all the filth.

He tracks down everything he needs at a steady pace, and as he reaches for the very last item on his list, someone else reaches for it at the exact same time.

Immediately, Chisaki recoils, and he manages to avoid touching a stranger’s hand. But right as he’s biting back the urge to grimace, he realizes that the timer—the same timer he’s had all his life—his finally disappeared.

Ah.

So, it’s you. Chisaki turns his head to the side and finds himself looking at a young woman, who is staring back at him wide-eyed and breathless. He has a pretty good idea of what’s going on in your head. You must have realized it, too.

After more than two decades, he’s finally met his soulmate.

You’re pretty. Chisaki can at least admit that much. You have nice features, you dress in a way that suggest you care about your appearance, and you have a pleasant, clean scent, which means that you take personal hygiene seriously—thank god.

But all that being said, Chisaki still has no desire to strike up a relationship with you. He doesn’t enjoy being around people. He can’t even bear to touch people, not counting Pops, who is his family. Not to mention that he’s part of the yakuza, and from what he gleams, you seem to be an average citizen.

There’s just no reality in which this would ever work out.

“U-Um,” you stammer, visibly nervous. “Are you...? I mean, um... it’s you, right? You must be my... soulmate.”

It’s a bit endearing how flustered you are, and for a moment, Chisaki feels slightly guilty about what he’s going to do.

Still. It’s better to tell you the truth now rather than let you get your hopes up.

“The timer,” Chisaki nods. “I have it too. Well, I did have it. Up until a few seconds ago, at least.”

A smile blooms across your lips, and it tugs at his heartstrings a bit, because goodness, you really are adorable.

“I knew it!” you beam. “Oh my god, I can’t believe this is really happening! I’m so excited! But I guess that was pretty obvious, haha. Sorry. I’m going to try to calm down now, but it’s just—this is just so—”

Chisaki raises a hand. “Before you say anything else, I need to let you know that I have no interest in pursuing a relationship with you.”

It only takes a second for your expression to sink.

“...what?” you mumble softly. “But... we’re soulmates. I thought that means we’re supposed to be together for the rest of our lives. I didn’t mean that we should start dating right away, but at the very least, if we could start by getting to know each other...”

“I’m sorry,” Chisaki says. “I don’t have much interest in romance. I prefer to keep to myself, and frankly, I’m not even sure I believe in soulmates. It all seems far too convenient. It was nice meeting you, but we’ll have to leave it here.”

By the looks of things, you’re on the verge of tears. Chisaki isn’t a very emotional person, but he can’t fault you for getting your hopes up. This must have been something you’d been looking forward to for many, many years. If only your soulmate was someone else. It’s a pity. You seem like a very nice woman, and he hopes that you’ll find happiness one way or another. Just not with him.

You swallow hard, just barely managing to hold back your tears. “I... understand. I’m sorry. I came into this with all these expectations, but I never stopped to think that the other person might not have been as excited as I was. I guess I was just really hopeful. I’m Quirkless, so... people have always thought less of me. I figured my soulmate would like me no matter what, but we’re pretty much strangers, so I don’t know what I was thinking. Anyways, I’m sorry again for bothering you. I’d ask your name, but it would probably just make the whole thing more painful.”

You turn to leave, but in that moment, Chisaki’s eyes have gone completely wide.

What did she just say?

“Wait!” he cries out, and you reel to a halt, surprised by the outburst.

Now it’s Chisaki’s turn to swallow. The roof of his mouth feels dry and uncomfortable, and he worries that perhaps his ears deceived him.

“You’re Quirkless,” he breathes. “Is that... really true?”

“I’m not sure who would lie about something like that,” you chuckle weakly. “It’s not exactly something to be proud of.”

Wrong. You don’t even know just how wrong you are.

In a world teeming with filth and sickness, those who haven’t been contaminated by the Quirk pandemic are a rarity. People like you are unblemished and pure, and...

Shit. Chisaki is starting to believe that soulmates might be the real deal, after all.

“It’s okay not to have a Quirk,” he says, and it’s insane how fast his heart is beating now. “No. It’s better not to have a Quirk. I much prefer it that way.”

You press your lips together. “Are you making fun of me right now? Listen, I said I was sorry for bothering you—”

“I’m not making fun of you. I’m being completely serious. Quirks... I’ve never liked them. Just the thought of them makes me sick.” He pauses, inhales sharply to collect himself, then lets out a heavy sigh. “The reason I turned you away is because I thought it would be impossible for us to have a relationship. I break out into hives the moment anyone touches me. I distance myself from people, and the thought of being intimate with someone has always repulsed me. And Quirks are largely to blame for that, because Quirks are a mutation. A disease. That’s why I didn’t think we had a chance. But now that you say you’re Quirkless... I’m starting to think differently.”

You arch a brow, and it’s clear that you don’t understand where he’s coming from. Fuck. He hopes he isn’t scaring you off. He’s finally, finally found someone who he has an actual chance of being with, and he doesn’t want to ruin this.

“If you don’t mind... would it be alright if I held your hand?” Chisaki asks breathlessly.

Once again, you stare back at him in confusion, but it thankfully doesn’t look like you’re opposed to it. You reach out a hand, slow and hesitant, and at the same time, Chisaki peels off on his gloves, letting his skin breathe free.

When your fingers meet his own, he lets out a soft gasp. Not out of disgust, not out of apprehension, but out of sheer relief.

No hives. No uncomfortable tightness in his chest.

You aren’t sick like the rest, which means he can touch you to his heart’s content.

Chisaki would have liked to hold your hand for much, much longer, but out of fear of scaring you off, he reluctantly lets go and gives you some space.

“I just wanted to confirm something,” he mumbles. “If it’s you... I’m able to touch you just fine. I don’t get sick. It looks like we’re soulmates for a reason.”

The look in your eyes is far from judgmental, and when you finally muster up your next words, Chisaki can hear a little hiccup catch in your throat.

“So... you really don’t mind that I’m Quirkless?” you ask.

“Not at all. It’s just the opposite. I feel comfortable around you precisely because you’re Quirkless. That must be why we were fated to meet. Because we’re a perfect match.”

Chisaki has never flirted a day in his damn life, but something he said must have tickled your fancy, because you blush and shyly avert your gaze.

“I was really worried there for a moment,” you mumble. “It sounded like you wanted nothing to do with me.”

“I’m sorry,” Chisaki frowns. “I was too quick to judge. I’m very particular about certain things, and I thought there was no chance. But I was mistaken. And if you’re still open to it... I would love the opportunity to get to know you better. Starting with your name. Would you mind telling me your name?”

“I’m [Name],” you reply, and you flash him another bright, genuine smile. God, he swears he’s already fallen in love with that smile.

“It suits you. I’m Chisaki. Chisaki Kai.” He takes a moment to think it through, and then, he does something he’s never done before in public.

He removes his mask so that you can see his entire face.

Your eyes widen. “Oh, wow. Chisaki, you’re so handsome! I didn’t realize my soulmate would be so gorgeous. Now I can’t help but feel self-conscious by comparison...”

“I appreciate the compliment,” he chuckles. “But you’re beautiful. I thought so even before I found out you were Quirkless.”

He watches, with great delight, as you blush yet again. You’re just so adorable. He never thought he would be thanking his lucky stars for having a soulmate mark, let alone one that caused him endless frustration for more than twenty years, but here he is.

“I was going to head straight home after running some errands for my old man, but how about we sit outside somewhere and chat for a while?” he asks hopefully.

Your smile returns, this time, wider than ever.

“Sure!”

As it turns out, Chisaki doesn’t get back home until much, much later, and he finds Pops waiting for him with his arms crossed.

“Chisaki,” Pops frowns. “What was the hold-up? You’re usually so efficient when it comes to these things. I was expecting you back hours ago.”

Normally, Chisaki would have apologized at great length for inconveniencing Pops. He is, after all, the man that brought him and raised him as his own. He loves and cherishes him, and will do anything in his power to repay him.

But right now, Chisaki is up in cloud nine.

“I met my soulmate,” he says, setting the shopping bags down. “Sorry, Pops. We got to talking for a while.”

“Oh?” Pops lifts a brow, and tries—but fails—to hide his smirk. “But I thought you said you wanted nothing to do with them. You told me you didn’t believe in such things.”

“Well, I changed my mind.”

“I’ve never known you to be the type to do that. You’re stubborn to a fault. But I’m not complaining. It sounds like you’ve turned over a new leaf. So, then, tell me about this soulmate of yours.”

For the second time that same day, Chisaki removes his mask—and it’s so that Pops can see his ear-splitting grin.

“She’s perfect.”

#my hero academia #bnha imagines #boku no hero academia #bnha #mha #mha imagines #overhaul x reader #bnha overhaul #bnha chisaki #chisaki kai #chisaki kai x reader #fluff #mha oneshot #bnha villains #soulmates #mha x reader #bnha x reader #romance

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lunarw0rks · 1 year

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i’ve never seen anybody write for simon riley better than u 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 can i request him + manhandling idc if it’s headcanons drabble ANYTHINGGGG ur writing is just too good

A/N: thank you so much, I'm always doubtful about my characterization lowkey, so this means a lot <3 I think about manhandling!ghost several times daily.

Summary: Ghost manhandles you.

Warning(s): explicit content (18+), strong language, smut, rough sex, manhandling, p in v sex, fingering, size kink, creampie, established relationship, fem!reader, no use of y/n

Word Count: 2.3k

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ GHOST MASTERLIST // have a request? ⋆ ⚘ 🕊 ˚✧ ₊˚ʚ ao3 ver.

Manhandling // Drabble

With Simon’s rough and rugged line of work, the last thing he wants to do is exert himself even more, especially at his partner’s expense…

… Right?

Well, that’s not always the case.

Sometimes, he can’t help himself; his full strength is used on them with ease, the shock of it all. The power of his large, calloused hands and bulging biceps. And most underrated, his toned thighs, the force of his knees to pin a squirming hostile.

IT STARTS SLOWLY; the things you’re used to, like a grab of the jaw or a slight tug of the hair, all verbatim of what his hands normally do during foreplay. The first time he wanted to be rough, to manhandle, he told you beforehand. Since it’s such a rarity for him, why not use the element of surprise? The hand on your jaw, the scalp grip, the lack of words in between kisses, you’re just expecting his routine intimacy. But then… it felt different—abrasive.

Your back finds the wall or the back of the couch, his hold caging you there—not that you have a choice, or care to at this point. That other side of him can be so… exciting to see after months of him teaching you like your body is glass bound to shatter.

❝Keep your hands there, dammit, or stay fuckin’ still,❞ the grumble catches your attention because you hadn’t realized how much his digging fingers were making you squirm, all before they even reached anywhere remotely sensitive. In return, your hands remain on his waist, holding onto the fabric of his tee for dear life.

In truth, you’re too intrigued to disobey, and it’s abundantly clear that this side of him had the ability to make this experience tortuous.

NOT GOOD ENOUGH; No, not you—the couch isn’t good enough. In one swift motion, you’re over hiked over his shoulder like a wounded soldier. Only, his supporting hand is gripping your rear and not the legs of a maimed person, as he’d been trained. The shriek you let out, charms him, to say the least, not that his expression would show much of it. Your view is of the curves of his back, head bouncing against it as he takes calculated strides up the steps, as if there isn’t the weight of a grown person literally on his shoulder.

You hear the hinges screech, the same way they do even when you try to open the door quietly, but it’s clear that’s not a concern of his right now because it shuts and locks just as quickly. A tedious habit of his, even when not engaging in intimacy, even when he sweeps the house before bed every night.

Your back hits the mattress with a few bounces because you’ve been tossed. The small gasp you let out, it’s nothing compared to the resonant, growling chuckle that escapes him.

❝Don’t be a prude now.❞ The humor ends when he speaks. ❝I saw the way you were lookin’ at me… you’re enjoying this.❞

His fist finds the t-shirt you’re wearing, one of his, thrusting it upwards and over your head. It’s like your body is moving for you, how you raised your arms when he removed the shirt, but in your head it’s only a thick fog of lust.

NO TIME TO PREPARE; Simon knows his size, and he’s well aware of how harsh he is. He’s not a barbarian—a little foreplay is the humane thing to do.

His tongue is too intimate, and caressing your figure is too slow. After a few seconds of contemplation concealed by his lips on yours, he’s come to a decision. Hands, it is. Similar to the shirt, he nearly shreds the bottoms. With this cloud of his aggressiveness, he’d shred any clothing in his way. There was no time to tease, either. The sooner he can bottom out inside you, the sooner his frustrations will fizzle.

You’re clothless now, aside from the panties, though they were ripped off before you could catch up. ❝Simon,❞ he doesn’t raise his head, but the hooded stare is enough to shut you up. It was more of a moan than an alert, like you were already void of your full articulation.

If you really wanted to stop, for him to slow down, you wouldn’t be grinding your hips against his fingers.

Simon was only rubbing your inner thighs and you’d already said his name once, so imagine his amusement when he runs his thumb along your clit.

He has to stop himself; he’s not there to massage it like he normally would, he’s down there to prepare you for his size. Though, the hypothetical sight of you circling it yourself while he pumps his fingers, it would be enough to make him finish in his jeans.

Whether you do or not is up to you, it’s your body about to be misused, not his.

His head moves from hovering over your sex, to back over you, only he’s nipping at your cleavage and not your upper lips. There’s no warning; you feel it before you can beg for anything. His middle and ring finger, easing its way in, before he wastes no time curling them against your walls.

Still, with one hand occupied, his strength prevails. The unoccupied one is on your shoulder, keeping you pinned so only your hips have any range of movement. ❝Already a mess for me.❞ His mouth is slightly agape, like he wanted it there instead of his fingers. It was true—the methodical, sticky noise, especially when he went faster and it gathered more on the area. After only a minute of this, it had dripped down the length of his fingers, already a small pool on his charcoal gray sheets.

IMPATIENCE; sure, you could try and fight his grip, but you’re only tiring yourself out more. It didn’t matter how much you wanted to touch him, to do something other than lay there and writhe—good luck. He had already pictured this, when he was kissing you downstairs, what position he was going to put you in. Hips controlled, hands free; the opposite of the one he just fingered you in.

Lucky, or unlucky for you, he was aching for release.

His fingers, once pumping in and out of you, removed just as quickly. With skill, he unbuckled his belt and was left in his boxers and t-shirt—eyes commanding, watching you ache for him impatiently. It was almost humorous, him being in charge and hasty, but you’re the one clenching around nothing.

Simon was never one for conversations, and he sure as hell wasn’t now—not when his cock sprang out of his boxers, throbbing and athirst. The tip of it, already slick with pre-cum was futile against the amount of wetness already soaking your core. At least he knew he wasn’t going to break you entirely, only immobilize you for a few hours at most—the thought of that only encouraged his ravishment.

IRON GRIP; for only a few seconds, one hand is on his length, lining it up. He groans lowly, a string of curses escaping his lips when he slips in with ease. The stretch alone could make him finish, how his size is crammed in, despite the warm-up he gave you with his fingers. But it’s not a slow entrance, it’s deep and forceful, so satisfying he would go forever if he could. ❝So fuckin’ tight,❞ he says, yanking your body towards his length, as opposed to using his own hips to pump himself. But that isn’t enough—you’re moving around too much, you can’t help it, he fills you so well.

Rather than harsh words, another command telling you to stop moving, he uses his strength again. For a second, he debated on putting your own panties in your mouth, maybe a hand there instead, but he wanted to hear every desperate exclamation increase the more he used you.

Before, he was only being rough, and it was nothing compared to how ferocious he’s being now. Both hands find your hips, lifting them off the bed, thrusting your weight on his length with all his force. Shoulder blades and above are still on the mattress, while the bottom half of you is lifted. The angle of it, how he’s lifting you, he’s hitting spots so deep inside—so rarely stimulated. And he’s hitting it with such force, a constant, repetitive pound kissing your g-spot. ❝Take it all for me.❞ As if you have a choice in the matter, he’s already bottomed out.

Even if he wasn’t finding that unparalleled spot, the sight of his eyes half-open, the grunts that sound like growls, even just the pure feeling of him inside you would be enough. From his perspective, it’s just as arousing; the mouth agape, your back stuck in an arch, how you pulse around him with each thrust, the sticky mess coating his cock and lubricating his forceful jerks.

FINISH ME; his movements have gone from calculated to sloppy, but the speed has only decreased a thread. The sound of skin meeting skin, each grind of his hips followed by the sound of your wetness, it’s inching him closer to his finish. And you, that spot deep inside you abused and built up in your abdomen like a funnel cloud—it wouldn’t be long now, not while he’s drilling you.

When he’s hitting that spot, there’s no need to press down on your stomach, to stimulate the clit that’s been throbbing this whole time. It’s like ecstasy, making your eyes roll slightly, each muscle from your pelvis to your toes tighten and tremble. If it weren’t for his large hands holding up your hips, there’s no way your legs would’ve been able to support themselves, and they sure as hell won’t be able to after he’s done.

❝Be good ‘nd cum for me,❞ his chest heaves only slightly, fingertips leaving marks where they’ve been digging for minutes straight. It’s more of a beg than he lets on, because if you keep whining like that, he’s going to finish before you. But you’re so close; he’s seen it several times now—the babbling, the shivering, the pleading under your breath—as if he’s going to stop now.

Within seconds of his relentless movements, the arousal his voice gave you, you were there, dissolving into the pleasure building brick by brick for minutes now. It comes like a sledgehammer, leaving you shaking against him while a string of reaction phrases breath through your lips. ❝There it is…❞ A small chuckle leaves his lips, but you’re too lost to notice.

He’s slowed only a little bit, as if to hold off his own release until yours has finished. He can’t be too distracted and miss it, otherwise he’d just have to start all over again—in his mind, he’s unsure you could even handle that, the sheer size and force he would use to do that.

The feeling ripples through you, his thrusts only magnifying it for you. Your hands find anything they can, first a futile attempt to reach him, but the angle makes it difficult. Then, the sheets you could’ve ripped from the mattress if you tried. Without any of your own control, you’ve tightened and pulsed around his cock repeatedly, so much it would’ve been difficult for him to keep moving if you weren’t so drenched by now. You could swear everything muffled for a few seconds, and if your eyes hadn’t tightened shut, there probably would’ve been black spots.

For him, the sight of it was something he would never pass up; downright sexy for him to watch, motivating his own climax to the point of no control anymore. The bulge of his cock visible on your stomach, he can see himself twitch. When he’d once been thrusting your hips onto him, he had stopped now, his own hips tensing as his head leans back slightly.

❝Fuck.❞ It’s a simple phrase, but his heavy breathing clouding the words says enough. Still, your hips are raised and at his mercy, shivering until he decides he’s done. His abs tightened a few times, spilling every last drop deep inside. He can’t help himself, he sneaks in a few slow thrusts afterward, savoring the feeling of your pillowy walls clenched around him—only until he knows he won’t hold back if he doesn’t pull out this instant.

AFTERMATH; his thumb traces your hips in a soothing manner, letting them down slowly until you’re resting on the mattress again. ❝Shouldn’t have let me do that, or I’ll want to do it again next time.❞ He lets out a deep snigger, pulling himself out slowly. He finds the waistband of his boxers, pulling them up to a normal position again. Then, he finds the throw blanket that ended up tossed onto the dresser, an action he must’ve done in the heat of it, due to his lack of memory.

❝Do what? Make me finish?❞ you ask, breathless and flushed. The quilt is draped over your shivering frame, like an unnecessary apology for the abuse. It seemed no matter how many times you insisted he could be rough, or how many times he was, he fussed over you.

When your tone came out slightly snarky, cocky even, he scoffed. His mind flooded with those images again, biting on his bottom lip with every ounce of his restraint. ❝Don’t get cute with me, love, that’s not what I meant.❞ His menacing nature would once send a chill down your spine, but after that, you’re hoping he’ll do it again, despite the ache in your muscles.

He finally finishes his sentence once he’s leaned in for another kiss, breath on your ever-gasping lips, ❝I’ll always make you finish.❞

#mw2 #mw2 fanfic #call of duty #simon riley #task force 141 #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #task force 141 x reader #simon riley smut #simon riley fluff #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost x you

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shurisneakers · 8 months

Text

unsolved (ii)

Summary: Bucky doesn't even believe in the paranormal. So who the hell thought it was a good idea to stick him in a series about everything haunted for the internet's amusement? With his loose-canon of a teammate who has no concept of subtlety or shits left to give, to make things even worse. (Buzzfeed unsolved AU)

Warnings: swearing, frustrated bucky at his little shit supreme, obnoxious reader, mentions of hauntings and the things that come with (body harm, priests, etc). images all have alt texts.

A/N: if you're familiar with the format of BuzzFeed unsolved videos, the pictures in this chapter make more sense. anyway we're starting small to warm up but i assure u there's like actual paranormal shit from next chapter onward <3 thank u for the chaotic response to chapter 1 ily guys sm ! as usual, please send me things you'd like to see in the series! it always make me so happy

Previous part || Series masterlist

Bucky loves the compound. The sentiment carries a lot, considering he’s made it a non-negotiable part of his personal brand to hate everything.

The lush landscape is quiet, spacious enough that he isn’t forced to run into anyone he’s actively avoiding, and has state-of-the art security that lets him sleep soundly, assured that no one will be able to get to his floor in an assassination attempt.

All of his deep love and fond admiration disappears when it’s the crackass of dawn and his oakwood door receives the beat down of a lifetime.

He snaps awake instantly, unsure of whether there was someone actually trying to kick the shit out of his door or it was just another nightmare that often blurred lines with reality.

But after the third deafeningly loud knock confirms it, he scrambles for a pair of pants just so that he isn’t caught entirely vulnerable.

The thrashing doesn’t cease, and by the time he makes his way to the door and yanks it open–

There’s no one on the other side.

Except a coffee cup on the ground and a note scribbled haphazardly on the side.

Shoot day. See you at the studio!

He stares wordlessly at the cup, unable to differentiate whether the feeling coursing through the very fibres of his being currently is pure blinding rage, or confusion that you apparently knew his coffee order.

The studio is fucking empty. If Bucky wasn’t still reeling from the effects of being startled awake by a fake intrusion at 5am, he’d have been over the damn moon.

He does his part as a man of honour and righteousness– calls out a very quiet ‘Hello?’ and then doesn’t bother feeling guilt when his heart explodes in joy at the lack of response.

He spins on his heel to march out, only to come to an abrupt stop when he almost runs into you. He didn’t even fucking hear you come in.

“Oh, hey.” You look at him, hand on a bagel. “You actually showed.”

Bucky’s smile falters, and he returns to his default Grinchian state.

“You made sure I fuckin’ did,” he grumbles. “How’d you get on my floor?”

“I have my ways.”

Bucky’s glare presses hard into you almost like a palpable entity.

“I did a gig as an escape artist for a while. Paid super well,” you dismiss.

He doesn’t blink once, trying to decipher whether you’re telling him the truth or not.

You offer him a bite from your bagel in return, seemingly having moved on from the conversation already.

“Where’s everyone else?” he asks, turning away from you.

“Maya didn’t actually think you’d show up on time so she told everyone to come an hour later.” You speak through a mostly full mouth. “I figured you could use the company.”

Bucky immediately feels defensive, as if that wasn’t exactly what he tried to do.

He grumbled all through the morning when he saw fifteen text reminders sent to him through the night telling him he had to shoot a video that day. He grumbled when he couldn’t use traffic as an excuse to not show up because the studio is two streets away from the compound. He grumbled when the toaster actually works for once. Everything is right in the world. This was, of course, devastating to him.

He finally shuts up when Sam gives him a piece of gum. Then he just glowers, but his jaw is otherwise occupied.

“She set you on me this morning?” Bucky questions, tone on the verge of being ticked.

You shake your head, swallowing before taking another bite. “No, that was social service.”

Bucky’s eye twitches.

“I’ll come back in an hour,” he mumbles, arms crossed over his chest.

You give him a look that lets him know you’re entirely unconvinced. “Will you?”

Well. No.

“I’m gonna look around the studio. You’re welcome to join,” you say instead, looking past him. “We’ll need to know where we’re working for the next few months.”

Few months? No no– few hours at max, if this were to go exactly his way.

“Video’s not gonna do numbers,” he reminds you in a dull utterance.

“With an enthusiasm like that, it’s hard to see why you’re not universally beloved, Barnes,” you comment seriously, before clapping his shoulder. “Come on. You ever look at yourself in a mirror? You’re gonna be a star, baby.”

Bucky, in his current chosen avatar, looks less 'man of the world' and more 'reject of the jungle’.

But the sentiment is appreciated.

The studio is moderately big.

You find joy in messing around with set pieces of the other Avengers video series that were being shot there. Bucky finds joy in locating every possible escape route within a three foot vicinity.

He’s admittedly surprised by learning how much actually goes into making a simple video. He just figured they’d stick a camera in his face and teleprompt him and get it over it.

You chat animatedly about the use of gimbals and different camera gear, lighting setups and sound quality.

“You into this stuff?” He raises an eyebrow.

“No, I just did a stunt as a wedding videographer once,” you wave off, “It was great. You could always tell which couples were gonna get divorced within a year.”

Something unrecognisable flashes in his eyes.

“Escape artist and wedding videographer,” he repeats.

You stop talking to look at him.

“Yes,” you say simply and go on to provide no further explanation.

If the morning’s antics weren’t enough, now he’s convinced you’re fucking with him.

“Anyway, they’ll probably stick us in makeup before we go on camera because it–”

“Makeup?”

“Well– yeah. For the video.” Your eyes dart toward him, sizing him up in a quick glance. “If you look any paler, you’d basically be translucent.”

Bucky can’t even debate it. His skin looks like it hasn't felt the gentle touch of a sunray in millennia.

“Just say it’s part of the theme.”

You snort. “The first ghost I hunt cannot be one who sits beside me.”

So Bucky gets his makeup done.

By the time the studio fills in, he’s already drunk two cups of the shitty breakroom coffee and found fifteen innocuous things to fashion into weaponry if things were to go awry.

The large bright lights force him to keep wiping beads of sweat away from his forehead. Everything exists in a contrarian state of frenzy, and coordinated down to the second as if it were a damn rocket launch. He’s already had three staff members dart about him cross checking if he’s hydrated and if he’s signed the right forms.

“Oh, you actually showed,” he hears for the second time from Maya, who doesn’t even make an attempt to hide the earnest surprise from her voice.

Bucky wants to scream.

“The team’s picked a really simple case since it’s the first video. You just need to read it out,” she explains breezily, switching from you to him, “and you need to react.”

You flash her a thumbs up. Bucky doesn’t move an inch. He’s convinced it’ll trigger another round of people meddling with his hair until it looks ‘sufficiently casual but not artificial’.

Maya hurriedly leaves after wishing you good luck, probably to fix the walking PR disaster that was Clint, who unceremoniously went live on his Instagram the night before after consuming something he procured from some guy in an alleyway, who described it as ‘carbonated milk’. Bucky watched it for a few seconds and immediately shut down the app when Clint offered to take one article of clothing off for every million people that tuned in.

“I asked for there to be as few people in the room as possible,” you whisper to him.

“Still a lot,” he replies under his breath, watching them buzz around him, still brushing up his face and dabbing at his hairline with a napkin.

Someone hands you a folder full of papers. “We lose any more and we’re filming this video ourselves.”

“All ready!” The camera guy, Shane, announces.

“Copy that,” you call back, before leaning forward in your chair, grinning. “Chill. I’m gonna do the talking. All you gotta do is say a few words and look pretty.”

That sounds…doable.

“Make it fast,” Bucky mutters, crossing his arms over his chest.

Whether he was talking about the video or his death is still up for debate.

“Recording in three…two…one–”

The whole studio waits with bated breath, but Bucky stares right ahead.

“When I said a ‘few words’, I did mean one or two, possibly more,” you talk through your smile.

Bucky continues looking into the camera like it stole his ancestral property.

You exhale, soldiering on, lips still upturned.

You look at Bucky, hopeful that he will at least answer a question. He doesn’t offer the same kindness, and now you understand why Maya reached out to you for this.

So you do what needs to be done, as a person with a responsibility to all these fine and tired souls gathered here on a weekend.

You kick him under the table.

The crew waits for Bucky to say more. He very pointedly doesn’t.

At least one sound has been procured from him, which is more than what they can say for some other videos.

You continue, “Our story takes place in 1954, in the quaint, rural town of Ravenswood. Irene–”

Bucky scoffs. “You made that up.”

Would now be a good time for him to bring up your previous job experiences you had dropped so casually or was this enough to let you know he was onto you?

Your eyebrows pull together, scanning over the sentence. “I haven't even said anything yet.”

“A horror story. Taking place in Raven’s Woods,” Bucky emphasises. “Really.”

Bitch.

“First of all, it’s Ravenswood, not Raven’s Woods,” you shoot back. “And it exists.”

“Where?” He raises an eyebrow.

“I don’t know– fuckin’ West Virginia?” You shuffle through the papers. “Does it matter? You wanna move there?”

Bucky doesn’t add anything further.

You observe him for a moment before deciding to continue.

“In the quiet town of Ravenswood,” you side eye him but he doesn’t look affected. “Irene Wendelin, a 35-year-old woman moved into a house on the outskirts to save up money. She lived alone, had no immediate relatives and worked as a secretary at the local press.”

Bucky continues chewing his gum. You’re not even sure he’s listening, but everyone got paid by the hour regardless of whether he did, so who gives a shit.

“Within a few weeks of moving in, strange incidents started to take place. Irene’s friend Thelma, who also worked as a secretary at the press, recalled how Irene developed a persistent cough, was constantly fatigued, and had issues sleeping due to her skin itching. Thelma suggested solutions from ointments to medication, but not one remedy that she provided seemed to work. As time went by, Irene’s symptoms escalated into severe respiratory problems, leaving her breathless just from climbing up a flight of stairs. She even reportedly started having hallucinations of people crawling around in her house in the dark, but she was never able to catch them in their entirety.”

“How long did this take?” Bucky questions out of the blue, arms still crossed over his chest.

“I think within a couple of weeks of moving in.” You try not to look too surprised. “Further, Thelma recalls Irene saying she heard strange sounds at night which kept her up. The only time the woman felt normal was when she left her house to stay with her cousins for a month.”

Bucky’s head snaps to you, eyes narrowing.

“What?” you challenge.

“Nothin’,” he says instead. “Go on.”

You cast a look at the crew, who look just as confused as you, but you continue regardless.

“Things escalated when one day, Irene showed up to work in complete disarray. Thelma says that upon a closer look, Irene had bite marks over her hands and legs. Thelma, a devout Christian, insisted on getting the place checked out by the church since all else had failed. Father Gabriel, a local priest, agreed to visit the house, but upon setting foot inside, claimed it was haunted by ‘forces of evil whose reality existed beyond mortal comprehension’. This was the last straw for Thelma, who had Irene move into her house until she found a new place to stay. Within a few weeks, Irene was back to normal, and the house is still considered one of the most haunted places in the country to this place, with no one allowed to enter.”

Bucky looks at his arms, jaw tightening.

Your eyebrow twitches.

You could see Maya shaking her head from across the room, entirely fucking defeated.

You wait a few seconds but receive no response. Bucky’s gaze doesn’t shift from the table top.

You start gathering the folder with the story in it, getting ready to read out your conclusion.

You stare at him, but he doesn’t look up at you.

Collectively, every spine in the room straightens.

“Asbestos?” you echo.

“Or mold. Could be either.” Bucky shrugs, chewing on the same stupid piece of gum that had lost its flavour hours ago.

You look at him in bewilderment, partly because you weren’t expecting him to say anything at all, much less this.

“Had an aunt once who thought she was possessed. Turns out her walls were full of mold.”

You stare at him. “You’re lying.”

He finally turns to you, no traces of humour on his face. “She got remarried and moved out. Good as new.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s asbestos.”

“Had the same symptoms an’ everything. Itchy skin, breathing problems, fatigue.”

“Hallucinations?”

“Stress. Being poisoned twenty-four hours a day’ll do a number on anyone.”

“And the bite marks?”

“You never had an itch so bad you just bit it?”

“On her legs?” you ask incredulously. “She bit her legs? Is that what you’re saying?”

Bucky shrugs.

You look like you’re going to lose your mind.

You clear your throat. “What about the priest?

Bucky snorts. “What ‘bout him?”

“'Forces of evil whose reality existed beyond mortal comprehension’?”

“Maybe it was her,” he fires back. “Maybe that's just how she was, how would you know?”

“You’re saying the forces of evil are just… her bad vibes?” you say it slowly, as if that would make it better.

“Maybe.” Bucky’s shoulders rise and drop again. “My aunt was a real stick in the mud too. I coulda called her a force’a evil when she didn’t let me fire a bottle rocket into the tree.”

You narrow your eyes at him. Bucky looks back innocently.

“You’re bullshitting.”

“About my aunt?” he scoffs. “I would never. Rest her soul. Made some damn good cranberry pie.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s not asbestos.”

“Then why was she fine every time she moved out?”

“Because the house was haunted.”

“By mold.”

Maya clears her throat, pointing to her watch.

You look back at her and clear your throat as well, shuffling around your papers.

“Right. So that’s it for this episode.”

The camera guy yells “Cut!’ and you turn to look at Bucky.

But he’s already gone.

The video goes up that weekend.

It takes a considerable amount of time to edit, considering they had to bleep out the steady stream of expletives that you didn’t even know Bucky was muttering under his breath, but got picked up by the mic anyway.

To Barnes (Work):

are you ready for your influencer era

He leaves you on seen. You think you’ll send him more memes of his stupid face.

To Barnes (Work):

influenza

Five hours since the video has gone up, and your phone starts buzzing more than usual. Nat’s already sent you a clearly AI generated article titled ‘Everything We Know About the Latest Avenger’, full of incorrect information and straight up lies.

The first reviews are promising. Sort of. The newest generation of kids on Twitter are saying shit and using terms that are beyond you, but it looks good. You think.

And then somewhere close to midnight, your phone chimes with a text from a number you hadn’t yet saved.

From unknown

Hey. Steve Rogers here. Great job on the video.

Your eyebrows shoot up, discarding your refreshing of the Subreddit that has popped up in your name.

From unknown

Just letting you know though– he was lying.

From unknown

He doesn’t have an aunt.

Motherfucker.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing!

to keep up with updates for this fic and others, please follow @shurisneakersupdates and turn on post notifications!

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #unsolved fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

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thesilmarillionblog · 2 months

Text

𓏲 𓂃 L o s i n g Y o u

Part:𝟷𝟺

Click here to read the first part.

Summary: Everything was good as a member of Payback and Soldier Boy's secret girlfriend until the team and your relationship with him began to fall apart due to a new member and her developing relationship with Ben right in front of your eyes.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader

Warnings: Language, angst, PTSD, violence, suspense, hurt, Soldier Boy gets hurt,

Word Count: 4433

A/N: English is not my first language.

* This story is inspired by the song "Losing You" by Dream Evil.

Whispering “Earving?” once more, you trailed him to shadowy spots where fewer people were present. Though you knew you would have to deal with this eventually, you couldn't help but feel uneasy about what lay ahead.

When he halted, you took care to keep your distance.

You walked up to him and asked, “Why are you not talking to me?” to let him know you weren't a threat and that all you wanted to do was communicate. “Did you know what happened to me?”

Your eyes widened in suspicion as he examined you from head to toe before you told him anything further. To your surprise, Earving lifted his hand and pulled his blades from his back in a menacing manner.

Your heart was pounding as you whispered, “What the hell are you doing?” It also hurt you to see him preparing for a fight, and you shook your head in disbelief. “Don't you ever try it.”

You immediately defended yourself with your fists when he struck you with his blades, as though he were going to cut your skin. Thank goodness for your training sessions with Ben; you were starting to feel a little better and in shape.

Earving attacked your legs again, forced you to the ground, briefly restrained you, and attempted to strangle you. But you reclaimed your hands from his gloved ones, struck his masked head, and violently shoved him on the ground.

You said, “The company lied to everyone,” before he struck you once more. I'm not a traitor."

Even though you tried to persuade him that neither you nor the government were your enemies or vice versa, he didn't seem to be listening to you and kept attacking you even though he knew you were still stronger than him.

You shoved his head hard against the wall in front of you, forcing him to think straight. “I'm not blaming you for what happened,” you blurted out. “I just want you to know I'm still your friend. I understand your reasons about why you didn't visit me or try to save me.”

After you hit his head against the wall a few times, he managed to break free from your hold and push you back until your back cracked the wall and made a hole in it.

“What the hell, Earving?” Your t-shirt tore from your stomach to your chest as you screamed at him in aggravation. “You must hear what I'm telling you because I am speaking the truth. Vought lied about me to you and to everyone else, and they studied my body for decades in a lab to make the next supe generation better, to make it perfect.”

You said, “For God's sake,” fighting back tears as you were overcome by all that had transpired so quickly. Your hands balled into fists as you prepared for yet another blow. “If you attack me again, I swear I'm going to leave a huge amount of fucking damage on you.”

When his phone started ringing, Earving saw your rage rising and plunged his blades into his back once more. Before you could even respond, he vanished into the darkness once more.

After you hurried back to the van without drawing attention from civilians, Frenchie noticed your torn t-shirt and messy hair and wrapped his hands around his head, practically yelling, “Mon Dieu, where did you go? What on earth happened to you?”

After sitting down next to him and seeing the screen in front of you, you muttered, “Nothing,” as you looked around for Kimiko.

“Clearly, it's not just 'nothing.' Have you been spotted by anyone? Have you had a fight?”

“No,” you instantly told a lie. You didn't know if this was the correct moment to discuss the actual events that transpired.

Frenchie looked at you, her eyes narrowing. “You look like you've just had a fight,” he questioned.

“I told you nothing happened,” you yelled angrily, feeling ashamed as the table beneath your hand began to crack. God. You were hopeless. But you remained outraged and wounded by everything that went on. Why would Earving even behave in such a manner?

Frenchie placed his hands in the air and muttered, “Alright, alright,” in a calm but terrified voice. “I'm not going to ask any questions anymore.”

Though you chose to speak with him at a later time, you felt awful for using your position of power to frighten someone who was clearly weaker than you and was only attempting to carry out his own duties.

With concern, you questioned, “Is Kimiko okay? I can help her if it's needed.”

“No,” Frenchie said, displaying his happy expression on the TV. “Pay attention to her remarkable speed and talent. Kimiko is a unique lady.”

Your eyes darted around the busy street, your super-hearing tuned in to every sound, and you continued to stare at the screen in front of you. Memories of your surprise altercation with your former best friend flashed across your memory. Why would he ever attack you like he actually wanted to kill you? Was Ben correct when he said Earving was only loyal to Vought and no one else?

It was painful that, despite everyone's lack of loyalty toward you, you continued to show loyalty to those who had previously betrayed you and stabbed you in the back. You couldn't decide if you or they had a problem. Either you were difficult to understand, or it was simply difficult to love you.

“She's done,” Frenchie remarked as he opened the door and prepared to go. Kimiko gave him a quick shoulder pat.

“Let's fucking go.”

It would be better if you called Ben at home.

Ben's footsteps sped up to Herogasm as his eyes looked for TNT Twins. You were quite correct to despise this accursed and abnormal place. He was very into public sex, threesomes, gangbang while high, and all things associated, so he had enjoyed the twisted notion when he found it with Stormfront Bitch, but now it seemed like a new room straight out of hell. God was fucking missing from this place. Even though he occasionally wanted to, at least he was relieved that he refrained from joining it while he was with you.

If he was being completely honest with himself, he was a little afraid of his own physical needs when Butcher told him they were going to Herogasm the day before since he hadn't fucked anyone since he was free. Besides, he wasn't used to taking himself in hand so frequently without fucking someone for so long, even if he jerked off like a fucking teenager two or three times a day. He felt much better, though, knowing that he had no feelings at all regarding anyone or anything related to Herogasm.

At this point, Ben was positive he would never want to visit this absurd place again. But as soon as he could, he had to fuck you raw.

Ben can't argue that he felt much safer having faith in you about anything because he was aware of your unwavering devotion to him in spite of everything he had done.

After all, loyalty to him was the most important thing in a partnership, and two people being devoted to one another was sufficient for a lifetime of companionship.

He was still thinking about your exposed ass from your nightdress, remembering how you appeared on the bed this morning. He was surprised at how effortlessly, and without even trying, you could make him rock hard. Getting on top of you, ripping off your underwear, and sliding into your swollen cunt would be so fucking easy. But in reality, it wasn't that simple.

Feeling his hardness returning over your thought, Ben muttered, “Oh, fuck.”

Ben scowled and picked up the smoke bomb that had suddenly been thrown between his legs, thinking it could help him become a little high or divert his attention.

“Halothene,” he said, glancing at the man who had thrown it to him. “What were you going to do with that?”

The man repositioned himself, bracing himself for combat. Ben took a step toward him and sighed. The man's heart was pounding uncontrollably.

“Not him,” Butcher stated firmly.

Ben immediately nodded to Butcher. Anyhow, he was not in the mood to murder someone who was weak.

He took a deep breath and tried not to get furious when his eyes eventually spotted the TNT Twins. When Ben saw their eyes widen in fear, he grinned. They were obviously taken aback to see him again.

“Soldier Boy,” they muttered in tandem as they looked to one another for the right words. “It was Noir's idea; you must know that.”

“Was it?” Ben inquired as he gently inched closer to them, his shield tightening around his hand.

The woman answered, “Yes,” quite quickly. “And the Crimson Countess. They conspired to deceive Y/N and you as well.”

He said TNT Twins, “Noir can't even shit without Vought's permission,” after hearing your name. “Did you know that she spent decades in a lab having her body studied? Did you know that Vought intentionally deceived everyone?”

The sister asked, “Why does it matter?” before the man spoke.”All we did was follow instructions. Not that we desired to, though.”

They were aware of it. Ben shut his eyes and inhaled deeply, careful not to blow this place up. “You two will speak up against Vought to the media, tell them what they did to me and Y/N, and tell me where the fuck is Mindstorm. You two will come with me and fucking fix what you have done. If not, I'm fucking going to kill you both.” Ben spoke in a ferocious manner, clearly threatening them.

They cried out in shock, “Fuck no,” sounding as though they would sooner die than stand up to Vought anyway.

They locked hands and prepared to strike him, acting as though they would only cause minor harm to his body. The Russians did their best to harm him; of course, none of them worked. Ben was in disbelief that he used to work with the world's most worthless and foolish superheroes.

Ben's supe hearing was triggered by a Russian song played by another supe in a different room before he spoke. He attempted to contain himself, and his palm closed tightly around his shield and closed his eyes.

But the enormous power that was beginning to emerge was much bigger than him at that precise moment because of the horrific memories from the lab he had spent decades confined to. Ben's final thought before blowing up the entire place was of you. He should never have come here without you.

Once you were in your room, you decided to give Ben a call after some time had passed. You were informed that the person you called could not be reached at that time. You threw the phone on your bed and yelled, “Asshole,” out of anger.

The damage had already been done when Ben awoke. Fuck it. This time, he had made an extremely serious mistake. He was sure he'd be on the news tonight.

A man across the room likewise appeared to have a strange cape when Butcher came to approach Ben.

“Soldier Boy and William Butcher,” he murmured. Ben and Butcher exchanged looks. “Oh, god. You were behind this. This whole thing was your idea. William, we made a deal with you to fight to the death. You and me.”

Ben struggled to figure out what was going on between them as Butcher offered him a confident look. Homelander went on, “This is cheating. The deal is off.”

Homelander's gaze lasered Butcher against the wall as soon as he finished his speech. Ben sighed after giving Butcher a quick glance.

“You were my hero growing up; I have watched all your movies hundreds of times.” Ben offered Homelander a degrading grin as he spoke admiringly. The guy with the blonde hair had the worst suit ever. It was a shame.

“You were the only one who was as strong as me.”

“Buddy,” Ben said, not giving a damn about Homelander’s words at all. “You think you look strong? You’re wearing a cape. You’re just a cheap fucking knockoff.”

Homelander's jaw tightened, and his eyes grew enraged as Ben repeatedly insulted him. He was enraged hearing such stuff from the supe he idolized since he was a child.

“Oh, no, no,” Homelander responded without fear. “I’m the upgrade.”

When Homelander attacked, Soldier Boy started to punch him again and again, but Homelander was well-trained too; he was indeed as good as Ben in combat skills. He wasn't like the weak supes in Payback; Homelander was indeed built different. However, this didn't make Ben feel a thing at all. Homelander was just another supe who was just more than a bit easy to deal with. That's all. In fact, it would be a good training for Ben to warm up.

Ben briefly lost control of the momentum and gave Homelander the advantage as they continued to hit one another. Ben looked on in confusion as Butcher rose and then lasered Homelander as well.

“What have you done?” Confused, Homelander murmured.

Ben stood up, yanking Homelander by his useless cape and violently throwing him against the wall as he ascended in the air, and their lasered eyes engaged in combat.

Following Homelander's escape, Butcher and Ben struck him simultaneously, shattering the wall behind them.

Homelander tried to laser Hughie after he broke up the brawl in his nude form, but Hughie was too fast for him.

Ben effortlessly grabbed Homelander by the arm and pushed him to the ground, keeping him there while Butcher and Hughie also helped him.

Butcher yelled, “Do it,” as Ben attempted to go full force this time.

Ben pushed himself to concentrate on the enormous power shining behind his chest, but for some reason he was unable to release it. His tendency to explode when he didn't mean to was annoying, but he couldn't use his new abilities when he needed them. Perhaps it was because, just moments before, he had already blown up.

Homelander groaned like an animal under threat when he realized he was going to be slaughtered by them. With a single, fierce roar, he drove everyone from his body as he fled away.

With a mumble of curses, Butcher turned to face the sky.

Ben didn't give a fuck at all, even if he was eager to kill Homelander while he knew he had more pressing problems at hand. Murdering Homelander was easy to do. However, he had to seize control of the company and turn the tables as quickly as possible.

Ben grabbed the phone out of his pocket to try to call you as he stood up and straightened his suit, but it didn't work.

Ben growled, “Fuck this,” and turned to face Butcher. “Call Y/N right now.”

Butcher said, “Give me some slack, for God's sake,” as he got up and brushed off the dust from his coat.

Ben snatched the phone from Butcher's hand as soon as it began ringing and gave him a cold glare while Hughie and he pleaded with him to get out of there.

Ben, who was a little nervous, walked to the car quicker than Butcher and Hughie.

Ben muttered, “Give me a fucking moment,” as Butcher and Hughie entered the vehicle and looked at him.

It had only been an hour since you went to sleep when your phone rang. You answered it while you rubbed your eyes and exclaimed, “What?”

You had cried uncontrollably because of what transpired between you and Earving, since you hadn't anticipated his treachery to be that severe and brutal.

Ben said, “I guess I couldn't give you a call because my battery is dead. Are you now at home?”

Your eyes widened with suspicion. “How unlucky!” you murmured in a sour tone. “And yes.”

“Something terrible happened,” he sighed. You were scared by the underlying fragility in his voice, which made you feel no longer sleepy. He whispered your name and continued, “I messed up badly.”

Your heart raced, and you temporarily forgot about your own issues as you were anxious at hearing an unsettling and insecure tone in his voice. You prepared yourself to receive the worst news. “What did you do this time?”

Ben's jaw tightened at your disappointed complaint. Even though he was making an effort, it had been a while since he had disappointed someone with such severity, making him feel like a total failure. Ben parted his lips to speak, but he truly had no idea what to say or how to convince you that he wouldn't let you down the next time. He knew that had become one of his professions nowadays.

“Well, let's talk when I come home. We're going to head out, so I suppose I'll be there by morning.”

He immediately hung up the phone without waiting for you to say anything more. He was a little embarrassed by his unpredictable actions and wasn't sure how you would respond. In the meantime, he would be thinking about this.

You sighed and attempted to return to sleep, but it took you an hour to put your issues aside and allow your ailing body to rest.

Instantly opening your eyes and got off the bed upon hearing a door close in the room next door, you realized it was Ben.

You knocked on his door and said, “Ben?” even though it was still open.

He turned to face you after putting his shield next to his bed and said, “You don't have to knock it. You are welcome to show up at any time, sweetie.”

Even if he was attempting to make jokes to rile you up, his tone was anything but funny and suggested that he was distressed.

You approached him and gently closed the door, asking, “Can we talk now?”

He also approached you and gave you a hug after leaving his chest material on the table, preventing you from speaking. You let out a sound as his fingers gripped your back firmly, and his chest seemed warmer than before. You held back your hug, but you also didn't press for an answer in the hopes that he would calm himself down and tell you.

You attempted to ignore his fingers as they moved over your body, but your chin lingered on his muscular shoulder. You were surprised that he wasn't trying to make sexual contact with you, and you wondered what had happened to make him act that way while you were apart.

"I missed you," Ben said softly,

Ben has always hated to say things like this and felt like the helpless, weak men in the movies, but he couldn't help but feel overwhelmed since he knew you needed his help and he kept failing you repeatedly even though it wasn't his intention. Ben hesitated to admit that he needed you more than ever because he knew that if you had been there, you could have stopped him from using his freshly developed powers to explode and kill some people.

If he could simply kidnap the TNT Twins and make them speak negatively about the company, then that would also be a great opportunity for you. They would also provide him with information regarding Mindstorm, which can be beneficial in your case.

His body stiffened as he breathed in your hair.

He aggressively remarked, “You smell something different,” smelling you a little more forcefully this time. “Like someone I know.”

You put your arms around his biceps and murmured, “Quit smelling me and calm down,” as you didn't make him feel angry. He appeared as though he was about to lose it. “I'll tell you when you tell me about what happened in Herogasm.”

“I blew up the entire place.”

“Ben!” you said, pushing his hands aside as your shocked eyes grew wider. “Why?”

His voice was dry as he spoke hurriedly, “I didn't mean to.” While you waited for him to continue, Ben looked around and considered how to explain everything. He then remarked, “It's... the same thing happened in Midtown. I was speaking with TNT Twins about Vought and attempting to persuade them to voice against it.”

His eyes went dark, as if he was uncomfortable and didn't want to continue.

You placed a hand on his chest when you noticed he was having trouble with his inner thoughts, in an attempt to calm him down and encourage him to speak. You said, “And?” gently.

“I heard a Russian song,” he furiously and unsettlingly declared. Placing his hand over yours to make sure you understood, he added, “I guess it's kind of a triggering thing for this thing to get activated.”

He interrupted you right away before you could say anything, saying, “I really tried to stop it. I did not mean to disappoint you or mess things up like this. Not at this particular moment.”

You muttered, “Don't worry about that. It wouldn't be the first time.”

“Yeah.” He gave you a small smile to lighten the situation and murmured to you, as if he were also trying to suppress the anger in your voice since he understood you had every right to speak in that manner. “However, I will speak with Butcher and ask him to locate Mindstorm as soon as possible in order to resolve your problem. Perhaps I might want to amend our agreement regarding Homelander.”

You muttered, “I don't know, Ben,” at a loss for what to do. “It's becoming uncontrollable. Tonight, everyone will be talking about you once more. First, we must figure out how to clean up this mess.”

He immediately raised his voice and said, “Fuck them,” not wanting to think about Vought or the media at all. “You do not think of such things. I'll soon have things under control. The first thing we need to solve is your situation about your powers, okay?”

“But why?”

“Because you come first,” he stated with a serious attitude.

Your cheeks heated a little under his focused look, and you retrieved your hands from him before heading to his bed and sitting to put an end to the intense moment.

As you settled onto his bed, Ben's eyes narrowed, and he started thinking inappropriate things. You need to have spent the entire day and night beneath him, getting as much fuck as you both needed to make you tremble around his cock.

As he began to remove his suit, including his pants, you were thinking about how to talk to him about yourself and Earving without irritating him. Ben didn't seem to care that you were in the room or that you were staring at him while he got undressed.

He was putting on his gray sweatpants, and you were looking for a t-shirt when all of a sudden you stated, “I fought Noir.”

“What the hell?”

He sat on the bed next to you and swiftly turned to face you. “When did this happen? How in the world did this son of a bitch track you?”

You murmured, “Calm,” as you noticed his veins starting to show. “Frenchie and I were in the van, and Kimiko had something to do. At that moment, I noticed him watching me from across the street.”

“Fuck, I knew from the way you smelt that bitter, like get into my nerves.” He questioned, without you even finishing your sentence, “And?”

You sighed as you noticed his growing impatience. “I wanted to talk to him, so I followed him until he stopped. I suppose I was naive.”

Even though you were feeling vulnerable just now, you went on. “He didn't say a thing at all, and I don't know why, but he attacked me.”

“Fucking betraying son of a bitch, I should have murdered him when I had the chance.” Ben's hands were fisted on the bed, and his mind was racing with ideas as he growled with fury. “Did he do something to you?”

“Of course not,” you said with a sorrowful inner smile. “He would never be able to hurt me, even if he tried a hundred times.”

You winked at Ben, and he laughed. It gave you some relief to watch him become more relaxed.

Playfully, he asked, “You're a fierce thing, aren't you?”

“Sometimes,” you replied with a smug grin. Ben noticed that you looked sad, and that's when your thoughts of Earving flashed across your mind.

“Hey,” he murmured. “Stop worrying about that cunning cocksucker. You see, he was always a puppet of Stan Edgar and Vought. It has nothing to do with you. This won't ever, ever change.”

With a nod, you examined his bedroom and replied, “Yeah, I can see it clearly now.”

He cleared his throat. “You know, you can sleep in here whenever you want. You see, my bed is pretty bigger than yours, obviously more comfortable.”

You arched an eyebrow suspiciously and asked, “Are you thinking funny things?”

“It's something I would never dare do,” he grinned.

When he mentioned sleeping, you couldn't stop yawning and felt your body preparing to go back to sleep. You were aware that he wouldn't touch you without your consent, following what transpired between you.

You rested your head on one of the pillows and mumbled, “Ben,” your eyes nearly closing from sudden exhaustion. “Can we continue training tomorrow?”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

⋆⋅☆⋆☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋆☆⋅⋆

Ben felt his heart soften so much at the sight of you sleeping off in his bed that he felt as though he could soon lose his mind. It had only dawned on him that he needed to pay attention to such a minor thing. The amount of control you had over him when he awoke from decades of sleep was insane. Perhaps he had been blind and sleeping for a lot longer than he realized.

Next Chapter

A/N: I hope I didn’t fuck up this chapter, lol..And I know it is kind of slow, but I don’t want to rush things, since the reader went through a lot. Comments and reblogs are appreciated very much. They keep me going. ♡˚.

Taglist: @mostlymarvelgirl @xmariakx @spnfamily-j2 @suspicious-stain-in-spain @atomicsoulcollecto @yvonneeeb @starryperson @mfnqueen1 @chaand-sitara @boywivlove @stilinskisthings @brynanna @delaynew @yoyoanaria @n-o-p-e-never @ghostslillady

@certifiedhaters @deans-spinster-witch @demodemo909 @stoneyggirl @cheynovak @libby99hb @moneyburner @jenn-777q @hey-there0-0 @purplerosequartz @shadowghoul2525 @darkqueen1995 @simpin4pixels @deebris @spideybv28 @mystic-mara @tranquilty @winchesterwild78

Let me know if you want to be tagged in this series. ♡˚.

Losing You series Masterlist is here.

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akirathedramaqueen · 22 days

Text

There's one piece of concept art that made me see the entire Apology Tour disaster in a different light.

So, we've been talking with @warblogs17282 about Stolitz and how their break-up ended up playing out in the 'Apology Tour' episode.

Why ended up? Well, there's a collection of concept art which, to my limited understanding of this craft, is one of the first steps in the production process of animation. This post by @birdy-babe includes a great chunk of it, shared by artists after the episodes aired (like storyboards, but much more stylised, showing how different some original ideas were). Long story short, one of the concept arts from the 'Apology Tour' episode suggests their quarrel was originally meant to be much harsher.

A short summary of the concept art to see what we are dealing with

In the background, you see a lot of apology postcards and silly cutesy stationery, suggesting Blitzø is in the middle of his Apology Tour.

The contact name isn't 'Stols' but 'Bird Dick,' implying their relationship is at an earlier stage, with less respect—at least on Blitzø's part.

There's a photo partially cut by the edge of the messages screen. From the signature gloves and boots, cowboy hat covering Blitzø's private parts, and visible nipples, it appears to be a nude image—replaced in later stages of development with stupid gay affirmation memes (as hard as it is to believe, I couldn't imagine there could be anything worse than the Striker horse gay jokes... well, it could, my dudes, it fucking COULD).

There are three messages, one of which is unsent:

"Stolas, cum awwwwwwn, u no u want it :)"—likely attached to the nude;

"Dude just talk to me"—desperation crawls in; he finally realises the shit has hit the fan;

"Im sowwy :("—an apology, but the text remains unsent, perhaps because it seems pointless, given that the 'Not Delivered' notifications and warning signs indicate Stolas has blocked his number.

Why do I find this fascinating, and why does it fill me with immense hope?

Because they still fucking care so much, and neither has completely closed the door on the other. By comparing the concept art to the final product, you can see how many intentional choices were made in dialogue, visuals, and behaviour to make it clear that these two idiots still want things to continue. Stolitz is meant to fucking live.

Now, if you want to see some comparisons—evidence, really—let's dive into each other's changes, focusing on what we can gather from the concept art.

Blitzø's side

Change 1—thank gods, no nudes. The gay memes are sillier and a bit lighter. Of course, they still showcase utter disrespect, a horrible prejudice against sexuality, and a poor understanding of how deeply Stolas was hurt, but I find them... less bad.

Change 2—no more 'Bird Dick.' Blitzø has actually come up with a real nickname for Stolas! Feelings are boring for you, huh, Blitzø? I can almost hear the song’s lines: "O-oh, hooked, addicted you might say, conflicted in a way…"

Change 3—Blitzø's attempts to apologize now show much more contemplation. Since Stolas hasn’t blocked him, Blitzø knows his words aren’t just being thrown into the void. Although the 'unsent' detail remains, it now carries real weight and impact.

All three changes are seen in these two GIFs.

He knows he did wrong. He knows he wants to salvage it. He might not yet know how to do it healthily, but he tries—he tries so fucking hard!

Look at the range of raw, cutting emotions as he speaks to Stolas and finally delivers his apology—probably the only one he genuinely meant. Well, maybe except for Verosika, a bit later.

It's not that it's hard for Blitzø to say 'sorry'—we've seen him do it a lot lately. He's actually quick to apologise and take responsibility, so Stolas's remark about him not feeling any remorse couldn’t be further from the truth. But the fact that he isn't running away this time—chasing after Stolas and trying his best to mend things—is drastically different from how he treated Verosika back then.

Stolas's side

Here’s the moment that struck me deep. It’s the only change, since the concept art shows Blitzø’s POV, but it’s such a significant one.

Do you think Stolas has moved on? Do you think he’s done with Blitzø? Not convinced, even when he’s literally singing about still wanting Blitzø?

Well, here’s your proof—he didn’t block Blitzø. They scrapped that.

More than that, the entire interaction emphasizes that Stolas isn’t pushing Blitzø away for good.

How do I know this? Stolas is very insistent on using phrases like 'for now,' 'right now,' and 'now' throughout his attempts to tell Blitzø off.

Here are some citations:

"I was hoping my lack of 'ha-ha's' in response to the photos you sent me would be an indicator I didn't want to talk right now."

"Seeing you right now is hard!"

"I'm tired of this! I'm uncomfortable with how you're speaking to me now!"

Why is this so important? Because he isn’t asking Blitzø to leave him forever. All he’s asking for is time.

Even while hurt, Stolas gives Blitzø plenty of chances to explain himself civilly. Look at the hopeful glances each time Blitzø shows any glimpse of genuineness.

Stolas fucking hopes Blitzø will take back all the cruel things said and brash actions done.

You know, Stolas... I've spent the entirety of this morning listening to love ballads, and that was...

For what?! You want me to be like, "Oh sorry, this entire time I assumed the worst because I was convinced a prince could never love someone like me and I've let my self-hatred stop me from apologising to anyone I could ever care about!"

You see the furrowed brows and the sad look? Stolas hopes for the best... but gets the worst because Blitzø isn’t there yet.

I’d even go so far as to say Stolas is acutely aware that Blitzø uses his brashness as a shield to protect himself. He literally sang about it in 'Just Look My Way.'

Unless it's me? And no matter what in this world I could give, it's not enough to get through these walls you've conjured up to live.

So, what gives?

Is this the behaviour of people who want to give up on a relationship they still clearly hold dear?

No. Even when they’re angry, aggressive, hurt, or drunk, they still seek understanding and forgiveness. They continue to listen and try.

They might lack the skills and may choose the wrong time, place, or words to express what truly matters...

One person, scared of being rejected so much that he unconsciously conveys this message by saying, "You don’t have to stay here with me," and carrying it throughout the whole conversation...

The other, coming to terms with his feelings, admits them, and his fears, a bit too late—when his romantic interest is too drunk to comprehend anything…

And in both cases—self-loathing, self-hatred, doubts, scars, trauma… and a lack of hope.

But there is hope. No, this is reassurance, my folks.

You know when it's hardest to stay in a relationship? When it’s hardest to come and say, "I am sorry," when it’s hardest to still love the person?

When you’re hurt. When they’ve hurt you.

And, despite that, you still come to them and still want to talk to them.

If this isn’t ironclad evidence that this is more than just a fling or a couple of fun sex dates, I don’t know what is.

And the 'Apology Tour' fucking proves it, rather than ruins it. It only strengthens the point. It’s easy to live in happiness, but it’s so hard to go through it while you’re in pain. When you see them doing that, you realise it means everything to them.

Stolitz is to live.

#GET OFF MY MEN #they are so stupidly in love I want to smack them sometimes and... idk put them in a cage OR SOMETHING and make them fucking talk for once #they so fucking care for each other they go above and beyond to change for the better #they've already changed just because they want to be better for their love #even though they don't fully realise it #helluva boss #helluva boss spoilers #helluva boss apology tour #stolitz #blitzø #stolas #stolas x blitz #blitz x stolas #blitz #stolas goetia #akira's whimpery metas

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neptuneiris · 1 year

Text

cardigan (epilogue) (1/2)

i knew you'd miss me once the thrill expired, and you'd be standin' in my front porch light.

pairing: modern!aemond × best friend reader!

summary: being in love with your best friend since high school becomes a strong and unavoidable feeling. until it starts to become more difficult when you get to college and the two of you, especially him, meet new people.

word count: 9.9K

previous part • next part

obviously i didn't expect this to be too long hahaha, even i was surprised, i didn't realize it was too much. so i decided to make the epilogue in two parts. thank u all so much por reading❤

Life in Highgarden could not have exceeded your expectations more.

At first you felt like you were supposed to when you came to live in a new city: terrified, anxious and nervous. You didn't want to feel lonely, but it was inevitable considering you know nothing and no one.

And when you arrive at your new dorm, you immediately loved it. Your room is bigger than the one at King's Landing and you have a beautiful view with lots of trees around and green grass.

Highgarden is well known for the fantastic flora and fauna. Everything is green, there are big trees and beautiful plants, there are even lakes and the weather ¡is perfect.

Yet you didn't have much time to get to know the city, because a week after you arrived, your classes started. And a week after you started your classes, you started your internship.

You met Arthur Winslow, the psychologist responsible of your internship, owner of a mental clinic for children, teenagers and adults.

He explained to you from the beginning that, once you were prepared, you would be present in cases of children and teenagers as well as adults to start your experience.

In addition, you would also support him in administrative things, such as his schedule, phone calls and so on. The pay is at a fair price, so it's perfect.

And as a result of Aileen and Sara not making it into the exchange program, you made new friends in your classes.

Although even if your friends had gotten in, Aileen would have chosen to go to Dorne and Sara to Winterfell, so you started talking to the people in your class.

They all came from different parts of the country, only a very few came from King's Landing and you didn't really talk to them much.

And after the first month passed, you just couldn't get any better.

You adjusted perfectly to your internship, to your classes which are wonderful and you also made good friends very quickly with whom you finally had that security to go around Highgarden almost in its entirety.

You went to many places, whether it was squares, parks, museums, lakes and even aquariums. Everything was so beautiful.

You took pictures, videos, made compilations with all your visits to upload to your Instagram, and even went out for fun on weekends to parties and bars with your friends.

You kept in touch with your friends at King's Landing and also let your parents know what you were doing by sending them pictures, videos and also talking to them on the phone.

Even Helaena messaged you by replying to one of your Instagram stories asking how you were doing and how you were doing at Highgarden.

Also her older brother messaged you, Aegon. He asked you how you were doing and also told you that he hasn't seen you in a while.

In truth with Aegon you did not speak much and fortunately neither of the two Targaryen brothers mentioned Aemond and for that you were grateful.

You were not thinking about him, not since you came to Highgarden and that is why you felt so at peace with yourself.

Despite being completely focused on your classes and internships more than anything else, you didn't lie to your friends that you had met and talked to a few guys.

You mostly met them at college parties, but nothing formal, it was all just hanging out.

You didn't have the mindset to really date, you didn't feel like you needed to and really a Highgarden guy didn't suit you if you were six months from now coming back to King's Landing.

You just had fun, experienced new things and officially started your psychology training.

And with the date getting closer and closer to return to King's Landing, you realized you didn't want to leave. Neither did Vhagar. At least not yet.

You grew attached very quickly to everything at Highgarden, even Vhagar with her walks in the parks and the view of the sunset when you took her for a stroll around the lake as well.

Everything was quiet and you felt at peace. However, you admit that you miss your friends and your life at King's Landing.

It's kind of a bittersweet taste to have to leave to go home. You definitely plan to come back because you've even grown quite fond of Dr. Winslow.

Until finally the date arrives and it's time to go back.

It was six months and yet it felt like it all happened in a matter of weeks. Yet you know you enjoyed every second at Highgarden and you don't feel like you wasted any time.

You immediately text your mom that you have landed at King's Landing and you also send a picture of your arrival to the group chat with Aileen, Sara and Ryan.

You call for an Uber and soon you find yourself arriving at the dorm with Vhagar in your arms.

The man driver helps you carry your bags up to your room, which you couldn't feel more grateful for, and as you enter that small space where you started your dependency, you feel nostalgic because you had missed it and happy because you are back.

And not long after you arrived, of course your friends would pay you an unannounced visit to welcome you back.

"You have to tell us everything.”

"And you have to show us the pictures you didn't upload to your Instagram."

"Did you meet cute guys?"

"How was your dorm?"

"How is the food?"

"We have to go to a party to celebrate."

You laugh as you notice the excitement in Aileen and Sara who are the ones asking all the questions while you and Ryan watch them with a small, amused smile.

And even though you didn't answer their questions, they still say they should get something to eat and drag you along with them to tell them everything.

Ryan takes them to a fast food restaurant in the middle of the university and soon the table is filled with fries, sodas, burgers, pizza and so on.

"You have to go one day, the program for the psychology internships are the best. The school is not that big, but the teachers are amazing, they even organize tours to many mental clinics of all kinds for all the students themselves. The only bad thing | could tell you about Highgarden is the food, it's not that good."

"Ugh no, dont tell me that,” says Aileen with a long-suffering face, "Don't make me change my mind about choosing Highgarden over Dorne if | get to go on exchange next year."

"But why would you want to go to a desert?” Ryan asks her confused, "Do you like to get your ass all sweaty?"

"Dorne is a place with incredible wonders and a lot of history, in case you didn't know,” she says seriously, "l've always wanted to see Sunspear."

"Just like any other place, genius. Besides, don't you know the temperatures reported in Dorne? It's like living in hell,” Ryan tells her incredulously. "l'm more supportive of Sara's idea to go to Winterfell where, if she's lucky, she'Il be able to go beyond the North and see the Wall. l'd rather do that than be dying of heat."

"So you'd rather be freezing to death?"

"Yes. A million times yes."

"And what about the parties?"

Sara asks you, picking up the subject and leaving aside for a moment Aileen and Ryan who continue arguing about Dorne and any other place in Westeros where according to Ryan it's better.

“They're not as noisy as here, but you still have a good time," you confess.

"Of course you have a good time,” Sara tells you mischievously, "All those guys you met seemed like they would really show you a good time."

You lower your gaze with a small embarrassed smile.

"It was just for the moment, that's all."

"And you didn't have any luck with any of them?"

You deny, looking at her again.

"I didn't want to. It wasn't...” You let out a sigh, "lt wasn't ideal."

"Oh come on, why not?” she asks incredulously, offended, "Didn't you get a good look at them? They were very handsome, Y/N. And they were just videos you sent us, I'm sure they were really hot in person."

You let out a small laugh, denying again.

"I didn't want to get attached to one of them, let alone start dating because | knew |'d be back here,” you confess, "And the whole long-distance relationships thing... it's not really my thing."

Sara grimaces and gives you a look of understanding at the same time.

"Well," she sighs, "At least you had fun with them."

"Not with all of them,” you clarify amused.

"But you did, so that counts."

After talking some more with Sara, since Aileen and Ryan are still busy debating... or rather fighting, you leave your part of the money for them to pay the bill while you go to the bathroom.

When you return, as you walk towards the table with your friends, a voice you know very well despite not having heard it in a while makes you stop as you hear your name called out.

"Y/N?"

And when you turn your head, a surprised Aegon Targaryen looks at you with a huge smile, standing with him is Helaena, apparently both of them having just arrived at the restaurant.

For an instant you panic at the thought that he's probably here too, but you're relieved to see that it's just the two of them.

"Is that you? Really?"

Aegon asks you amused, wasting no time in approaching you with Helaena following him and you also smile in his direction and shorten the distance between the two of you.

"It's been a long time since l've seen you too, Egg."

"Oh you little devil, you haven't forgotten how much | hate it when you call me that."

You both laugh and he wraps you in a tight hug that you reciprocate with the same affection, because even though Aemond was your best friend, you are still fond of all his brothers and nephews who have always been very good to you.

"Where have you been hiding? I haven't seen you for years."

He tells you incredulously, separating from you and you shrug your shoulders, already anticipating that you will talk about him. And even if you don't want to, you'll still have to.

"You know... here and there,” you say without much detail, shrugging your shoulders.

"Here and there where?" he asks you amused.

"Well... at school, with my friends and also at my exchange."

“But I dont see you around our house anymore, not even on birthdays, you didn't go to the ball either," he says almost in a sad tone, "You don't talk to my brother anymore, do you?" he asks a little more seriously, "Since the ball happened and he didn't take you, I knew something had happened. It seemed strange to me since you always went together every year."

You let out a long breath, lick your lips and nod, not wanting to give more importance to that matter that already happened many months ago.

"Yeah," you smile a little, affirming, "Yeah, since then."

"Forgive him,” Helaena stands between the two of you, with a smile and a sorry look, "l told him clearly that he won't ask you about him if he sees you when you come back, but his mental capacity is so low that the idiot doesn't understand."

You can't help but laugh at this, while Aegon at her side looks at her offended.

"l only wanted to corroborate what you told me,” he says innocently.

"Corroborate?" Helaena asks him.

"Yes," he says at once, still offendead, "I didn't believe you. At least not much. The two of them were inseparable and to suddenly not be friends anymore... it was like when | found out that Jack and Rose never existed and it was just a fictional story for the Titanic movie, I couldn't believe it and i felt cheated."

"Shut the fuck up."

Helaena says to him with a bad face and then turns to you with the smile and the softest and most pleasant look so characteristic of her.

"l'm so happy you're back. I didn't even know you were back, if i had known i would have texted you and we would have gone for a coffee."

"Thank you, Hel,” you smile softly at her, "And no, i didn't say anything about coming back and i honestly don't know why. I was so sad to leave but at the same time i was desperate to be back home."

"And what about Highgarden?" she asks you excitedly, "l've always been looking forward to going there. The nature there is just wonderful. There are lots of aquariums, isn't there?"

"Yes, yes, everything is amazing," you assure her, "Except the food. That's my only complaint. Everything is too... healthy"

"Oh yes, i knew that already," she says to you in understanding.

"And where do you live now that you don't live with my brother anymore?" Aegon asks interested, "Did you rent an apartment for yourself?"

"No, no, i live in a dorm now,” you clarify, "Because of the scholarship i got a big discount, and with the money i got paid for my internship at Highgarden, i have a chance to look for another job around here for a month."

"Oh, great,” he nods, listening to you attentively.

"A friend of mine who works at a boutique nearby recently told me they're looking for female employees. She works part time, maybe you have the same schedule if i pass you her number and she gives you more information."

Helaena tells you with such confidence that you're thankful that the first day you've been back to King's Landing, she's already saved you from looking for a job.

The flower shop where you worked before is already full of employees since your quitting, Sara told you since she went to ask to let you know before returning to King's Landing.

And now Helaena has helped you with that.

"That would help me a lot, Hel. Thank you so much."

"Oh, it's nothing,” she says nonchalantly taking her phone, "I'II tell my friend and then I'll pass you her number, don't worry."

After talking and keeping up with both of you for a few more minutes, your friends call you to leave and that's when the three of you say goodbye.

They both tell you if you want to keep them company, but since you've already eaten and you also have a mess in your room that needs to be cleaned up for your return, you agree to go out to dinner next week.

And just as you say, that's what happens once you're back in your dorm.

Vhagar greets you and keeps you company as you start to get all your clothes, shoes, make-up and all your stuff out of the suitcases. You also get something in and start arranging your few pieces of furniture in different ways in your space, wanting to try something new.

You put all your clothes in your closet, not wanting to leave anything for later, that takes some time, also to sweep and rearrange everything as you had it in your small bathroom.

You even fill a basket with clothes that need to be washed and go down to the laundry room, really not wanting to leave anything for later knowing that you have busy weeks ahead of you because of college and you want to get everything ready.

You wait for the clothes to be washed and also to dry, then go back to your room and continue organizing everything.

Until the sunset starts to show through your window and realizing that you are not missing anything anymore, you can finally lay down on your bed with Vhagar and rest.

You pick up your phone and begin to entertain yourself with Facebook, Instagram and Twitter, letting the time pass.

Vhagar settles in next to you and you get more comfortable to start watching Tiktoks, entertaining yourself for another good time.

You think to yourself that maybe later you'll go downstairs to buy something from the vending machine and watch a movie or maybe a series until you fall asleep, sounding like an awesome plan for you.

Then you finally get up, grab your most comfortable clothes and take a bath. It doesn't take you long and you dry your hair, then you feed Vhagar and take money to go buy food and watch the movie or series.

When suddenly there is a knock on your door.

You watch it in silence, thinking confused that you are not expecting anyone. And you have no idea who it could be. You didn't agree with your friends that they would come here later if you've already seen each other in the morning.

You check your messages to see if any of your friends told you they were coming to visit you unexpectedly, but nothing.

So you go to open the door thinking that it must be one of your friends and they decided not to tell you about coming over, but when you open your door you didn't expect it to be your ex-best friend, Aemond.

You freeze the moment you see him, definitely not expecting it.

As his gaze lights up when he sees you and the two of you are face to face after what felt like an eternity of the two of you not seeing each other.

You unconsciously take a step back, surprised and confused, your lips parted, as he watches you intently, almost with a hopeful look, maybe because he's afraid you'll slam the door in his face.

But you don't move from shock because you didn't expect it to be him and you didn't expect to see him so suddenly after so many months.

And he… hasn't changed.

You know it's only been months, there's not much difference, but it's the same appearance since the last time you saw him. His hair is still short to your surprise and his clothing style is the same.

What you do notice are the muscles on his arms are more pronounced and you also get the impression that he is a little taller.

While you… what can you say about yourself? Really nothing.

The only new thing you've done is to start trotting in the mornings, also your hair is short below your shoulders when before you had it down to your waist and you've put more earrings in both ears.

And neither of you say anything.

The two of you are simply inspecting each other after a long time without seeing each other, you mostly feeling just as confused to see him here.

You really don't understand how he is here. Or rather how he knew you were already back.

He certainly couldn't have known, you still have him blocked from all your social media networks.

Then….?

You ask yourself but the answer comes to you in a second.

Aegon.

You think in affirmative mode. And also probably Helaena because the three of you met at the restaurant. But you know it was Aegon who must have told him everything.

You don't doubt that maybe Hel wanted to kill him.

When after a few more seconds, the two of them not speaking and just watching each other, you finally react, instantly feeling nervous, without really knowing why.

Also that little remorse comes to your chest for everything that happened between you and what happened the last time you saw each other, remembering everything you told him crying.

You hug yourself and bite the inside of your cheek, also as he is looking at you, remembering his girlfriend, the ball and also your birthday.

When he speaks first.

"Hi."

He says to you letting out a sigh afterwards, stirring in front of you, keeping his hands in his jacket pockets, which are movements you know he does when he's nervous.

Also his look tells you he's a bit worried and anxious, but he still stands tall in front of you, his lilac eye watching you intently and having a slight gleam in it.

And his sapphire in your direction… it looks just as beautiful and stunning as ever.

"Hi."

You answer him with your tone of voice a little lower and feeling a little uncomfortable, puzzled, but you also stand firm in front of him, feeling nervous.

You certainly weren't prepared for when this moment happened and you know he wasn't either, yet here he is.

"W-what are you doing here?"

You ask trying not to let your voice sound shaky, holding back.

He swallows hard and looks away from you for a moment while he presses his lips together, to look at you again with those nerves and that certain hope.

"Actually… I wasn't too sure about coming here," he confesses with a soft look in his eyes, just like his voice, "Aegon told me you had returned to King's Landing and I wanted to see it myself."

At this, you lower your gaze for a moment and bite your lips. Yet… strangely… you don't feel upset.

"He told me by accident and got a good punch from Helaena," he adds and you look at him again.

You don't say anything for a few seconds, just look away from him, swallow hard and let out a long breath.

"Well, it's true, I'm back. If that's all, you can go now…

"Y/N..."

He calls out to you this time hopefully, interrupting you in a quick tone, not wanting to waste the opportunity and clearly not wanting this to be over any faster than he wants it to be.

It's the first time you've seen each other in months and in all these months a lot has happened and he just… wants to try.

It doesn't matter that you in the end don't want to, that you're still upset and don't want to see him, because he will understand and he will finally respect your decision, but he wants to try first.

He doesn't want to leave without trying.

"I know you probably don't want to, because I know you didn't expect to see me and maybe you even want to kick me out…"

He says lowering his gaze for a second, sighing, and then he looks at you again.

"But I want to risk myself," he tells you honestly, "and I'll understand if you say no, truly," he assures you, "I just want to talk to you and after this, if you still don't want me to bother you anymore, then I won't go near you again, I assure you."

He tells you and you remain paralyzed again for a few seconds, listening to him and watching him with your lips parted.

"And if you want me to leave now, I will. But I just want to try…" he lets out a long breath, gathering his courage, "So…. may I come in, please?"

He asks you softly, watching you just the same and almost expectantly, stirring continuously where he stands, knowing full well that he is as nervous as you are, while you have no idea what to do.

Your mind starts thinking fast, considering what you should and shouldn't do.

But the truth is that nothing comes to your mind. You just have a quick, unexpected debate on whether to let him into your room or not.

Vhagar behind you barks twice, watching Aemond very intently, while repeatedly wagging her tail back and forth excitedly and looking very playful.

While Aemond in front of you watches her with excitement and some hope, to again focus on you, ready to face the decision you will make, either yes or no.

And finally after what feels like an eternity, you know that rejecting him is probably the best option, but for some reason… you can't find the courage to do it.

And not because seeing him now in front of you and having heard his words has softened your heart, but because you realize that your heart doesn't hurt like it used to.

Maybe it was all the time you stayed apart and you healed in Highgarden, helped by the change of air, your lifestyle and the new people around you, unconsciously overcoming everything that happened between you, that you don't feel that pain anymore.

However… you do feel a weight. A weight on your shoulders and in your heart.

And it is because of that weight that after considering it in depth, with your soft gaze, you step aside and open the door wider, allowing him the entrance to your room.

Aemond would be lying if at that moment he didn't feel as if he had just received the news that he won the lottery, because surprise overcomes him and also relief.

And not wanting you to take it back, he enters your room, thanking you with his gaze in silence, while you control your nerves and close the door, facing this.

He in an instant is already in Vhagar who eagerly and seemingly happily enjoys being in his arms and licks his hands and cheeks, making him laugh and give her kisses, caressing her.

You can't help but smile a little at the scene, but you are just the same neutral and firm.

When he watches you over Vhagar, he leaves another kiss on her head and sets her back down on your bed, now looking as if he has no idea what to do.

He honestly didn't think it would go this far. He thought you'd slam the door in his face.

But you're both here. Face to face with each other. And certainly with a lot of things to say that you couldn't say to each other before.

"Hmm…" he says, stirring and glancing briefly at your room, "Did I interrupt you with something important?"

He asks and watches you intently, to which you deny, crossing your arms.

"No," you answer softly, "I was just planning to go buy something from the vending machine downstairs and watch something, a movie or a series."

"Oh," he nods, understanding, "well, if you want, I'll go," he offers, "you haven't eaten anything?"

"No. You?"

"I haven't either. But I can go and buy some dinner for both of us, only if you want. There are many restaurants near here."

"Well…

You stir uncomfortably.

"Only if you want."

"Yeah, no problem," he assures you.

And again he leaves you alone in your room saying he will be back soon, making you sigh and sit on your bed with an almost terrified expression… not expecting or understanding any of this.

The fact that he's gone to buy food helps you mentally prepare yourself for when he comes back, having no idea how they'll start talking about everything that happened.

You don't even know what he will tell you first, but you calm down and use the time he has given you to not feel nervous and terrified.

You take a deep breath, you say that everything will be fine, that this shouldn't be awkward… or at least not too awkward and that if both you and he start to feel like it's too much, you can both say so.

And of course you don't want any of this to lead to a fight. It wouldn't be wise and it's totally unnecessary.

When after a few minutes, Aemond returns with Chinese food, soda and fries from the vending machine.

He actually buys you some of your favorite chips and has also ordered you the Chinese food exactly the way you like it. At this you just thank him and both of you settle into your bed.

You put Vhagar down, give him some of her food and the two of you begin to eat.

At first it did feel a little awkward, but then, as you talk about the food being delicious and ask both of you to pass such things around, the mood begins to lighten and it's like going back to when you both lived together.

The two of them are comfortable, eating, talking about anything and watching a movie, although this time there is no movie.

And he is the first to start a conversation.

"How was Highgarden?" he observes you attentively, his gaze soft, interested.

"Incredible," you answer without hesitation.

He nods, as the two of you put more pieces of food in your mouths and then you take a sip from your bottle of soda.

"You told me that's where the best psychology internship programs are, right?"

"Yes," you affirm, "When I found out I got into the exchange program, it was the first place I applied."

"And you didn't have any problems?"

"No," you observe him softly, "Because of my good grades they didn't deny me anything, they gave me one of the first places in internships for Highgarden and everything was a very fast process. And when I got there and met the psychologist in charge of me and his clinic… it was just amazing."

"Yeah," he murmurs, "yeah, I can imagine. And I'm happy for you."

He tells you honestly, with a small smile that you return. A genuine smile from both of us.

"Thank you."

"And how did it all go? What was that you were doing? Did you get to know all of Highgarden too?"

And you tell him everything.

You tell him how your first weeks were, how was your dorm, the university, the new people you met, your internship, Dr. Arthur, what you had to do and you even told him about some very interesting cases.

You also told him about the places you met, showed him pictures and videos. You tell him that you went out partying on a few weekends, all the while he listens to you and watches you with great attention, looking genuinely interested, and asking you more questions.

Until you have nothing more to tell him about your six months at Highgarden.

"What about you? Haven't you started your internship yet?"

You ask him interestedly.

"Yes, since April," he says, "Obviously it wasn't difficult. I'm going to my father's company and I got some of my friends to do their internships there as well.

"Oh," you nod, understanding, "and what do you say?"

"What do I say?" he repeats, letting out a sigh, "well, it's not as interesting as what you told me," he says with a small smile, "It's all finance, paperwork, computer programs and so on. But that's what I like and I've been doing very well."

"Yes," you murmur, looking at a spot in your room, "But it's interesting," you tell him, "I've always thought you'd end up like one of the characters in Succession, someday running your father's important company as a rich and powerful man.

He smiles softly and then looks at you, to which you also smile in his direction.

"Am I right?" you ask him amused.

"In fact yes, you are absolutely right," he assures you in the same way.

There's no more food except for chips and soda, so he then starts talking to you more about his life and everything he's been doing lately besides college and his internship.

All while you both stare at an unimportant spot in your room, side by side, eating junk food.

And you listen to him with close attention, really interested in wanting to know what his life has been like now that you are no longer a part of it.

He tells you about how he has spent more time with his family, he tells you about Daeron, Rhaenyra, Daemon and even his cousins and nephews, Jace, Luke, Joffrey, Baela and Rhaena.

He tells you how they all spent a small part of the summer on Driftmark, an island near Dragonstone where his whole family also has a property right there, but which belongs to his aunt and uncle Rhaenys and Corlys.

You knew about Driftmark, but never in your years of friendship with Aemond did he invite you there because all his family always organized anything in his huge mansion here in King's Landing or in Dragonstone.

He also tells you about upcoming birthdays and everything his mother has planned.

And in everything he talks about, he doesn't mention Alys at all, maybe for fear that you might get upset or uncomfortable and want him to leave, because you don't dare ask him about her either.

You just let him talk to you about the first thing that comes to his mind, both of you comfortable in your bed and still eating junk food.

When Aemond seems to have told you everything and you both stay in a comfortable silence, almost shoulder to shoulder, both of you watching your little room and just letting time pass by.

And that's when Aemond watches you with his soft gaze, while you continue to eat fried food, staring into nothing. He swallows hard and lets out a long breath.

"I owe you an apology."

You freeze for a moment, still looking at everything around you but him, surprised by his words and beginning to understand where this is going.

Unable to help yourself, you look at him and he looks at you with a look that is both serious and gentle, looking honest, only to look away, maybe because of nerves, and continue talking.

"I was a very bad friend to you," he says in a murmur, "what I did to you is something unforgivable, I know, something you didn't deserve," he admits, "I don't expect you to forgive me Y/N, I'm not asking for that, I just want to talk to you and that you listen to me, that….

"I don't want to listen to your apologies only if you say them out of pity, Aemond," you interrupt him, serious.

"What? No, no, this is not for pity, Y/N," he assures you, honest and desperate to clarify, "I never felt pity for you and you know it."

"I don't know," you mutter, "After what happened, you made me doubt if our friendship was genuine or because you wanted and were my friend for pity," you confess.

"Y/N…" he tells you in a sigh, sad, denying, "since you left… since we stopped seeing and talking to each other… you don't know everything I wanted to tell you, everything I wanted to apologize for even if you didn't forgive me."

"Aemond…" you call him cautiously, "you can't apologize to me just to make me forgive you and your girlfriend too, you….

"I broke up with Alys."

He interrupts you with the most honest and quickest sentence he's ever said in all the time you've been together, making you freeze once more and stare at him with your lips parted.

And he watches you with the most honest look, wanting to clarify that point as much as possible and that there is no doubt, even feeling proud to say it.

"I broke up with her days after you left the apartment, and that was the last time we saw each other," he explains, in a low, honest tone.

But even after telling you that, you don't feel entirely confident. That's why you lower your gaze and swallow hard as you consider how strong his relationship was.

"But if you go back with her, I don't….

"No, Y/N," he says to you in denial, "I'm done with her for good," he assures you, "I didn't want to and I don't want to have anything to do with her anymore. I don't care anymore, she's nothing to me and never really was in all the time we were together."

You listen to him surprised, attentive, breathing a little faster than usual, not understanding, while he then starts to tell you everything.

Everything he wanted to tell you since your friendship started to fall apart and the moment it broke.

"Alys managed to get my attention a lot when we first met. She led me to believe on our first few dates that a relationship could be good, healthy and loving. But when we finally formalized everything, she started to show herself as the real person she is when she already had me," he explains, "And I naively gave her everything she asked for, even money, because I was obsessed with her and the way she made me feel. She made me feel so unique, so wanted and so special that I-I just…" he lets out a sigh, "I let her hold me in the palm of her hand."

He brings one of his hands to the nape of his neck, ruffling his short hair with his fingers, feeling strange telling you all this, but also feeling it as a necessity for you to listen and understand him.

And you really don't have any problem, you listen to him carefully and let him tell you everything he wants to tell you, still feeling a little sharp pain in your chest.

"She would even tell me things she didn't agree with or like, either about me or my family, making me feel bad and upset sometimes, but then she would turn them into just a point of view and convince me that I had misunderstood her, when I hadn't," he explains to you, "She told me that my mother was very controlling after she met her, that my siblings, even Helaena, seemed very weird to her, and that Daemon didn't seem like a good person."

You are surprised to hear that and pay more attention, while Aemond feels ashamed of himself for telling you this, but it is the truth.

"In that instant I should have put a stop to her, I know. But like the fucking idiot I am, I kept letting myself be easily manipulated by her, because she kept telling me it was just her first impression and her views," he says in a low, sorrowful whisper, "She just had a long conversation with my father without looking bored. I even noticed she changed her attitude and looked more… kind. But only with him."

He says in a bitter tone, while you understand what he's going on about.

"And of course, how could she not be nicer to him," he says with a smile and a bitter look, "With her about to graduate, she told him about that and also about her internship with the man who owns the most important company in the country. She talked about everything she knows and her skills, almost telling him her entire resume so he would hire her."

Now you let out a long breath, must have imagined it.

You thought Alys had really fallen in love with him. That's what you always thought until today when he gave you the news that he broke up with her months ago and that there was no love in the relationship.

You always thought that no girl could reject Aemond for his personality and his looks, that no one could reject him for being him, for knowing him and in an instant wanting to know more about him.

Because that's how you fell in love with him, you didn't fall in love because of what he had and what he could offer you professionally and economically.

But that was just what caught Alys' attention, not his personality and his heart.

"It also happened that when I would talk to her about my classes or an important project that I had worked hard on and got an excellent grade, she would say that it wasn't enough and that I needed to work harder to earn my father's company. She discredited everything I did, telling me that I had to do more so that someday I could be the boss and both of us could run the company, talking about those kinds of plans and almost assuring me that it would be like that," he says seriously and bitterly, "She insulted my friends, saying that they only cared about parties, that they were alcoholics and did not care about their studies, that they were useless and did not contribute anything to me now and would not do so in the future. She also said that I should have more serious and professional friends around me."

He lets out a long breath, really at that moment with you by your side realizing more how really bad his relationship was, the kind of very nasty girl he had by his side and how very blinded he was.

"The same thing happened with you," he says to you, saddened, "Clearly you know because you heard that conversation."

You bite your lips, remembering how bad she made you feel with her words. And so does he, corroborating with her.

"I owe you more than an apology for that, Y/N," he tells you honestly, "You were right, a best friend doesn't leave her best friend aside and that time I didn't even defend you. I should have stopped her, I should have put myself firm with her… but I didn't." he says apologetic, sad and disappointed, "and I'm very sorry for that."

Then you realize that you can't accept those apologies, because it really hurt you a lot to hear that conversation and that he didn't stand up for you because of the way you are and what you like to do.

If things had been the other way around, you would have defended Aemond with all your might, because he was your best friend.

"She was the reason why I started to leave you aside on weekends, why I gradually left you living alone and also why I didn't take care of Vhagar anymore, because she doesn't like dogs," he says seriously and sighs, "She was also the one who convinced me to take her to the ball and planned everything so I would forget your birthday," he confesses to you, saddened. "She deleted messages from you that morning, she confessed it to me when I confronted her when I realized that your birthday had already passed and that even weeks later she made me stay with her so I wouldn't see you. She also planned that stupid two hour dinner with her parents to delay me so I wouldn't notice and let the whole one night go by."

You bite your lips again, not watching him, feeling the urge to cry remembering that day, your birthday, because he also made you feel so bad during and still after by not getting any explanation from him.

And all because of her. But also for him, because he wouldn't put a stop to it.

"And yet I was still with her…" he says in a sigh, incredulous and disappointed in himself, "Like I said, she had me exactly the way she wanted me to be, and she would convince me otherwise when she didn't like something or made me behave differently than she wanted me to."

He shakes his head, feeling annoyed with himself for allowing it, for having fallen so low, letting himself be moved by her as she wanted, making him start to think that his friends were less important than her, his girlfriend.

That she was more important than Y/N, his best friend, who had always been there for him in very good and very difficult times, leaving her and throwing away their friendship of years for a relationship of months.

"She knew exactly what to do and what to say to make me stay," he murmurs, "But Alys never loved me and never really cared for me. She only cared about me out of interest and wanted to be with me out of the same interest, which was all she cared about."

"Did you love her?"

You dare to ask him without observing him, with a thread of voice, while Aemond at your side watches you for a few moments in silence and with his eye wide open in surprise.

I didn't expect you to ask him that, in fact I didn't expect any questions at all, but despite that, he knows the answer.

He knows it since the last time they both saw each other.

"No."

He respond in a low tone but completely serious and honest, while you dare to observe him surprised, but with an almost expressionless gaze and your lips parted.

"At first I came to have a certain affection for her … but only at first," he confesses, "Then it became that obsession with how she made me feel, but nothing else. I never came to love her and I am very relieved by that."

You take your eyes off him, closing your eyes for a moment, letting go of a long breath.

"And after I didn't see you again and I found out that you had gone on exchange… you don't know how that made me feel, Y/N," he swallows hard, "I had lost one of the most important people in my life. life for a fucking relationship and my own behavior. I wasn't thinking, I was an idiot. And I just wanted to scream and break everything for losing you… for not fixing it sooner."

An ugly and huge lump forms in your throat, observing an unimportant point in your room, your gaze lost and your eyes beginning to fill with tears.

You really didn't want to feel that way, you didn't want his words to soften you up, yet…they did.

But you hold back as much as you can, while Aemond next to you feels the same thing that you are feeling, but he doesn't dare to do anything about it, realizing your state, wanting to give you your space.

When you finally take a deep breath and talk to him even without looking at him.

“I missed you a lot too, Aemond. I missed you throughout your relationship with Alys and after I left to Highgarden. I missed you even when you didn't even deserve it."

You confess in a low and honest murmur, completely drawing his attention, you saying nothing else for a few seconds, swallowing the lump in your throat and completely holding back your tears.

While he listens to you and watches surprised, not expecting that, since he thought that all this time you had been hating him. He even thinks you hate him now.

And yes, if it was something like that, there was hatred, resentment, anger and courage for everything that happened, but even so, you also missed it very much.

You missed him, but you didn't forgive him.

"You also don't know how much I hate myself for ending our friendship, Y/N," he tells you in a sad and regretful whisper.

When you look back at him.

“I cannot forgive you, Aemond. Not yet."

And your words are like a dagger in the heart, a wound that, despite the fact that it hurts, accepts and respects it. He certainly didn't expect you to forgive him, but telling him that you had missed him, too, lit a small spark of hope in him. But it was not like that.

And he really respects it.

He doesn't want to make the same mistakes again, and so he does, feeling less weight on his shoulders, relieved that there aren't all those negative feelings between you anymore.

Nor does he expect that after this, everything will be back to the way it was before, because it won't.. He knows it's impossible. And if everything really ends between you both, then he will respect that too.

That's why he nods in your direction, both of you looking into each other's eyes, a understanding look and a small, soft, closed-mouthed smile on his lips, letting you know he's perfectly fine with that.

"Yes, i know," he assures you softly. “It's alright, I understand."

You nod gently in his direction, also placing a small gentle smile and both of you take your gazes away from each other and immersing in a comfortable silence.

Comfortable because finally neither of you feels that weight anymore and everything seems to be… fine.

Both of you have already said everything you wanted to say.

Or almost.

Because in the middle of that silence, Aemond starts thinking fast, having an indecisive debate in his mind, telling himself that enough has been enough, that everything is fine between you now and he doesn't want to ruin it.

But his heart tells him to do it, that there is still more.

While you by his side take your bottle of soda and take a sip, comfortable, this feeling good, but also knowing that this does not mean that the two will resume their friendship.

But for the moment… you enjoy it. You enjoy the moment.

And that's when he speaks again.

"After you left King's Landing…

He starts and you watch him, getting your attention.

"Helaena told me something," let out a long breath, "Something that made me finally realize my feelings and that made me have a little hope, even though you were already gone."

You are still watching him with attention, not having the slightest idea that it could be that what his sister told him, when Aemond looks up at you and looks into your eyes with his soft and honest gaze.

"She told me that you're in love with me."

Your hands become paralyzed first, you stop drinking soda and then your whole body is the one that is motionless, while you observe it with your lips between open, with your confused, attentive and nervous look at the same time.

You don't understand anything.

It's not like you told Helaena about it, in fact no one knows.

And it only makes you feel more nervous that Aemond is there, right next to you, acting completely normal about it, now that he already knows, continuing to observe you in the same way.

But you can't speak, you're still in shock, starting to feel like your pulse is racing too fast.

"She told me that you didn't tell her anything, that she just… knows," he says to you later, still in a soft tone, still making you panic.

You turn your gaze away from him, blink several times, starting to react from panic and nerves and hold your drink tightly.

"You should go."

It's all you say in a thread of voice, not daring to look him in the eye any more and you quickly get up from your bed, wanting to put as much distance as possible between the two of you.

You take Aemond by surprise, who stands up slightly, watching you worried, desperate and a little confused as you go to your door.

When his next words cause you to become paralyzed again, tensing up completely.

"I'm in love with you, too."

He says to you almost desperately, wanting to clarify as soon as possible, watching you attentively and cautiously, slowly getting out of bed to address you very carefully, not wanting to upset you more.

And he begins to explain to you with his soft tone, waiting for the moment so that he turns to you and can talk to you in the eyes, wanting you to see how very honest he is being with you.

"I don't know since when exactly, Y/N. It was probably before we graduated from high school," he lets you know, "That's why I asked you to live with me, because I certainly wouldn't have asked just anyone, and I-I… wanted to be close to you, almost all the time."

Your pulse continues to race, listening to his words carefully, feeling again the urge to cry, even without daring to look at him face to face.

"And all those dates, all those girls I went out with or flirted with at parties…" he sighs, "I told myself that I didn't get any further with them because it just hadn't worked out, when the truth is that I was fooling myself and it was me who didn't take them any further… because they weren't you."

He confesses to you and that's when you can't take it anymore and the first tears fall, starting to shake and with the realization starting to become clear to you as you hear it.

"And I wanted to repress my feelings for you with them, I wanted to fall in love with someone because I didn't want to ruin our friendship, Y/N," he tells you honestly, "And I know it sounds stupid and it's probably tired of hearing it already… but it's the truth. You don't know how much I was terrified of losing you, of losing our friendship because of feelings that weren't reciprocated… or that I thought weren't reciprocated."

Then slowly, Aemond, dares to raise his hand and gently touch your arm, turning you towards him very carefully and tactfully, needing to see you and needing you to see him.

And you let him.

Shaking, but you let him.

And his heart breaks the moment he sees you, with your sad, surprised face, your teary eyes and red cheeks, watching him as if he can't believe it.

"I wish I had known, Y/N," he says softly, watching you with all the love and gentleness in the world, "Because then Alys came, a girl with a personality I hadn't met before, pretending to be a good person and she made me distract myself from you by falling into her games."

You bite your lips, holding back the tears as much as you can, while he continues talking to you and explaining with all the sincerity in the world.

"And I know I was very selfish with all those girls and also with you when I saw you with that guy at that party, having a good time and having fun without me," he confesses with regret, "You don't know how upset I was and how terribly jealous I felt, Y/N. That was when I thought I had lost you for good and I hated myself not only for having ended our friendship, but also for never having confessed my feelings to you and realizing too late… what I lost for a person who wasn't worth it."

He lets out a long breath, biting the inside of his cheek and watching you with all the sincerity, love and affection as he says his next words.

"I love you, Y/N. I have always loved you. Just in the same way you love me…. or loved me," he corrects with a soft sad tone, "I was just too much of a coward to tell you and I didn't give you a chance to tell me either by going out and pretending with all those girls," he lowers his gaze, "I'm sorry."

Then, it's like you're living in a dream.

You don't know if it's real or not.

But you know it's real because of his touch on your arm and the closeness between the two of you, with him looking at you like that, being so terribly honest that it scares you.

It scares you because this is just what you wanted to hear.

This is everything you wanted to hear from him towards you, being just another one of your most pathetic and impossible dreams. But here you are. He has told you.

And that's exactly why you can't control it anymore and right there, in front of him, you lose it completely and the first sob escapes your lips, just as your tears are rushing down your cheeks.

You cover your face completely ashamed, crying, only you don't know if it's from happiness or sadness… or probably both.

But you know you cry because this is what you have been longing to hear for a very long time and you cry wondering why now, why now that things between you are no longer bad but not quite right either.

But mostly you cry because you feel confused.

Since you left King's Landing, one of your purposes was to leave him behind and forget, to undo those feelings for him. But you couldn't.

You still love him.

You love your best friend just the same way he loves you too, being something that was going on for a long time, simultaneously, but without both of you knowing it.

And you feel confused because you don't know if you should finally take this thing you've always wanted, you don't know because of everything that happened, even though he has already explained and apologized to you.

But you don't feel totally confident because he really hurt you so much.

And you don't know if what happened, will happen again and that's just what you don't want. You don't want him to hurt you again.

And Aemond, surprised by your behavior, yet he understands you and doesn't judge you.

That's why he wastes no time and pulls you into a gentle, firm and comforting embrace, letting himself be carried away by his feelings as well.

And you don't push him away. You let him hold you and lock you in his arms, just like you loved him to do when you lived together or saw each other during the day because his hugs have always comforted you and made you feel safe.

And that's also where you can let out your feelings.

He starts to comfort you too with soft words in your ear, stroking your hair with his hand, telling you that it's okay, that everything is fine, that this shouldn't change anything either, that you are the one who has the last word about the two of you.

As he continues to apologize for everything in soft murmurs, holding you tightly against him, not letting you go until you are well.

Until little by little, your sobs begin to decrease and you begin to calm down, sniffling your nose and still hugging him, taking all the time you need until your whole roller coaster of emotions stops.

Aemond doesn't let go, but does so slowly as you begin to stir, watching you intently and worriedly.

You bring your hands to your cheeks, wiping away your tears and sniffling your nose, to which he quickly runs his thumbs over your cheeks as well, still watching you with all that tenderness, that understanding and that affection.

"Are you all right, my pretty one? Do you need anything?"

You deny, again embarrassed, but at least feeling better and less emotional.

"N-no. I'm just… sorry, it wasn't m-my inte…

"Shh, no, it's okay," he interrupts you softly, "it's okay. This was my fault, I never meant to make you react like this. I should have been more careful with you."

"It wasn't that, Aemond," you confess, sniffling once more, "You took me by surprise, that's all. And I-I c-couldn't control myself, i-it was too much."

"Yes, I know, I know, pretty one. It's all right, everything's all right."

And again he pulls you into a soft, comforting embrace that you allow, now no longer feeling like those earlier hugs where before between the two of you there was the word friendship.

Now it's something more… something more intimate and more… honest.

And that's because both of you finally know each other's true feelings.

But still… after this, what you need is time. And that's exactly what you're asking for.

i couldn't tag many of you and I apologize if you asked me to tag you and I didn't, I could have missed your user but thank u so much for reading 😢❤

tag list:

@winxschester @namoreno @fan-goddess @lauftivy @bellameshipper @iloveallmyboys @barnes70stark @amazingnerd @yentroucnagol @helaenaluvr @almostpurplelady @lilitheal @targaryenmoony @dangerousstateofmind @summerposie

#aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x oc #aemond x reader #hotd aemond

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