#the cascade of echoed joy

[ai-adventurer]

(via The Cascade of Echoed Joy)

[mrsfancyferrari]

Baby Fever

Summary: OP81 + babysitting a child

Song: Melting · Kali Uchis

Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 2.8k

MASTERLIST - F1

It was a sunny Saturday morning when Oscar and you arrived at your sister's house, the soft sound of laughter echoing from within. Today was your day to babysit little Olivia, your sister’s five-month-old daughter.

You had always adored Olivia, with her bright blue eyes and wisps of golden hair that caught the light like spun sugar. But you weren't prepared for what the day would unfold.

As you stepped through the door, the smell of fresh coffee greeted you two, wrapping around you like a warm embrace, and you caught sight of your sister bustling around the kitchen, prepping snacks and leaving last-minute instructions.

The moment felt charged with anticipation. Your sister turned, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm, and you felt your heart lift in response.

“Hey! You guys are right on time!” she said, beaming at you two. “Olivia has been waiting for you!”

You couldn’t help but smile. “I hope she’s not too much trouble,” you said, glancing over at Oscar, who had just caught sight of the little one.

His face lit up with joy, and a sense of warmth filled the room.

“Oh, she’s a delight,” your sister reassured you, her voice brimming with affection. “But she can be a handful when she wants to be!”

You two made your way to the living room, where Olivia was nestled in a playpen, surrounded by colorful toys that seemed to dance with life. Each toy was a vibrant splash of color, a cheerful invitation for play.

As soon as Olivia spotted Oscar, her face lit up with excitement, a burst of pure, unfiltered joy.

“Look at that!” you exclaimed, nudging Oscar playfully. “She’s smitten with you already!”

“Hey there, little princess!” Oscar cooed, crouching down to Olivia’s level. His voice was soft and gentle, and it sent a flutter through your stomach—a reminder of the simple, profound magic that occurs when love is shared.

Olivia squealed in delight, waving her tiny arms and kicking her little legs in a frenzy of happiness. It was a sight that melted your heart, igniting a warmth that spread throughout your being.

You couldn’t help but grab your phone and snap a picture of Oscar leaning into the playpen, his eyes full of warmth and affection.

“C’mon, smile for the camera!” you said, trying to contain your own excitement, feeling the rush of happiness bubble within you.

Oscar glanced up, a playful grin on his face. “Is this going on your Instagram? I better look good!”

“Oh, don’t worry. You look adorable,” you teased, capturing the moment forever in digital form.

“Can you send me that later? I need to update my profile pic,” he chuckled, returning his attention to Olivia, who was now trying to grab his finger, her tiny grip conveying a strength beyond her size.

You and Oscar spent the next few hours immersed in Olivia's world, playing with her as if she were the sun and you two were the planets, spinning around her light.

Oscar was surprisingly great with her, holding her securely while making silly faces and sounds that sent ripples of laughter cascading from her lips. Olivia giggled, her laughter ringing like the sweetest music—a melody that filled the space around you and made everything feel right.

“Wow, you’ve got a talent for this,” you said, watching as he expertly balanced her on his knee, his hands cradling her tiny frame with such care. “Have you done this before?”

“Not a lot,” he replied, his cheeks flushing slightly. “But I guess it just comes naturally when you’re around a cutie like her.”

“Oh, so you think she’s cute?” you teased, leaning closer to them, the playful banter weaving a tapestry of connection between you two.

“Of course! But you’re cuter,” he said, giving you a cheeky wink, and your heart raced at the exchange, at the ease with which he moved between playful flirtation and sincere affection.

You rolled your eyes playfully, but inside, you felt a warmth spread through you, a glow that lingered long after his words. As the day went on, you found yourself taking more pictures, wanting to capture every fleeting moment of joy.

There was something so tender about Oscar gently bouncing Olivia on his knee or the way he would rock her to sleep, humming a tune softly, the sound melding seamlessly with the soft hum of the world outside.

“I think she’s ready for a nap,” Oscar said, glancing down at the baby, who was now starting to rub her eyes, tiny fists balled in the universal sign of sleepiness.

“Yeah, I think so too,” you agreed, feeling a sense of purpose as you two moved to put her down. “Let’s put her in her crib.”

Oscar followed your lead, and you worked together seamlessly, like a well-rehearsed duet. He carefully laid Olivia down, tucking her in with her favorite blanket while you dimmed the lights, creating a cocoon of comfort.

As she drifted off, you noticed the way Oscar’s expression softened, a hint of wonder in his eyes.

“Look at her,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. “She’s perfect.”

“She really is,” you agreed, feeling a tug at your heart. “You’re really good with her, Oscar. I can see you being a great dad one day.”

He turned to you, surprise flashing across his face. “You think so?”

“Definitely,” you said, biting your lip to suppress a grin. “You’ve got the whole caring thing down. Just look at you!”

Oscar chuckled softly, running a hand through his hair, the gesture endearing in its familiarity. “Well, I’m glad you think so. I guess spending a day with Olivia isn’t so bad.”

Once Olivia was sound asleep, you retreated to the kitchen, where you two prepared a quick lunch. The atmosphere was light and easy, filled with the gentle clatter of dishes and the sweet sound of laughter.

As you ate, the conversation flowed effortlessly, like a river finding its course.

“So, do you want kids someday?” you asked, more curious than you realized. It was a question that hung in the air, a thread connecting your hearts in this intimate moment.

He paused, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “Yeah, I think so. Maybe a couple. How about you?”

“I’ve always wanted a family,” you admitted, surprised at your own candidness, your heart racing as you shared you thoughts. “But I guess I never thought about it too much until today.”

“Why today?” he asked, leaning forward, clearly intrigued, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

You shrugged, a little shyly. “I don’t know. I just see how good you are with Olivia, and it kind of makes me think...”

“Think what?” he pressed gently, his eyes searching yours, a mix of wonder and warmth enveloping you two.

“Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have a little one of our own one day,” you confessed, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks, the weight of your words lingering between you two.

Oscar’s smile widened, and he reached across the table, taking your hand in his, a gesture that felt monumental in its simplicity. “Well, I’d be honored if we got to do that together someday.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the thought, and you squeezed his hand, a grin spreading across your face, a feeling of belonging blooming within you. “Yeah, me too.”

As the afternoon wore on and Olivia woke up, you found yourselves wrapped up in her giggles once again. It was a day filled with joy, laughter, and an unexpected revelation about your future together.

By the end of it, as Oscar and you watched Olivia play, you felt a longing in your heart that you hadn’t anticipated—a longing for a family and perhaps for a life with Oscar that included more than just babysitting your sister's baby.

This little adventure had opened a door you didn't know existed, and it felt like the start of something profound.

As you snapped one last picture of Oscar and Olivia, their faces illuminated with joy, you couldn’t help but feel that this was just the beginning of something beautiful, a story waiting to unfold—one where laughter, love, and the pitter-patter of tiny feet might one day fill your home, creating memories that would last a lifetime.

The soft glow of the TV illuminated the cozy living room as the cheerful tunes of Cocomelon filled the air. You were nestled into the couch, a warm blanket draped over you and your boyfriend, Oscar, as Olivia gurgled and babbled in your arms.

The sweet smell of baby lotion lingered around you, and the world outside seemed to fade away, the chaotic hum of daily life replaced by the serene rhythm of laughter and animated melodies.

In this intimate cocoon, time felt suspended, as if you were in a little world of your own—a beautiful sanctuary where nothing else mattered but the warmth of your family and the joy radiating from a baby’s laughter.

“This is the life,” Oscar murmured, glancing down at the baby who was enthralled by the animated characters dancing across the screen.

He wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer, and you could feel the tenderness in his touch. “I could get used to this.” His voice was soft, laced with affection, and it made your heart flutter.

You smiled, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. “Me too. I mean, look at her. She’s adorable.” You gently bounced Olivia on your knee, eliciting a giggle from the little one, a sound so pure and delightful that it seemed to resonate deep within your soul.

Her bright eyes sparkled with excitement, reflecting the colorful images dancing on the screen, and in that moment, you felt an overwhelming surge of love and protectiveness over this tiny being.

“She really is,” Oscar said, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on Olivia’s forehead. “You’re the cutest little munchkin in the whole wide world, aren’t you?”

Olivia clapped her tiny hands in response, her eyes sparkling with delight, a captivating sight that filled the room with an infectious energy.

The peaceful atmosphere was suddenly interrupted by the sound of the front door creaking open, the familiar sound that signaled the arrival of your sister, Claire.

She walked in, her arms filled with grocery bags, a picture of bustling energy. As she caught sight of the scene in the living room, a broad grin broke across her face, illuminating her features.

“Wow, you two already look the part!” she exclaimed, setting her bags down on the table with a flourish. “Should I be worried about leaving you alone with her?” There was a teasing lilt in her voice, an underlying sense of pride mingling with her playful skepticism.

You chuckled, looking up at your sister, your heart swelling with warmth. “We’ve got it under control! Right, babe?” You directed the question at Oscar, who nodded vigorously, his eyes sparkling with determination.

“Absolutely,” Oscar replied, his voice filled with confidence. “We make a great team.” The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and you felt a sense of unity and shared purpose envelop you both.

“Are you sure you don’t need us to take care of her for a little longer?” you begged, tightening your hold on Olivia as she reached out for your hair, her tiny fingers tangling in the strands.

The innocent curiosity of a child always seemed to capture your heart, igniting a desire to protect and nurture.

Claire raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “You know you can’t keep her forever, right?” The playful challenge in her voice made you laugh, a sound filled with playful defiance.

“I mean, we could if we really wanted to,” you said, playfully sticking your tongue out at her. “Look at how much fun we’re having! Cuddling, watching shows, and—”

“And learning all about the joys of diaper changing?” Claire interjected, her voice dripping with sarcasm, making you burst into laughter.

“Okay, maybe we don’t have that part down just yet,” Oscar admitted, glancing at you with a smirk, and the lightheartedness of the moment made your heart feel light. “But we can handle it. We’ve been practicing our ‘baby talk’ and everything.”

“Baby talk?” Claire laughed, shaking her head. “I don’t think that’s a skill you need to master. But it’s sweet you’re both so eager.”

You smiled at Oscar, feeling a rush of affection for him. “I really am grateful you decided to come with me to babysit. It’s nice to see you in this light.” The sincerity in your voice resonated with the deeper emotions swirling around in your chest.

Oscar looked a bit flustered but pleased, his cheeks tinting slightly with a hint of pink. “Well, it’s nice to see you in this light too. You’re a natural.” The compliment washed over you like a warm wave, igniting a spark of joy and validation.

“Okay, okay, enough with the mushy stuff!” Claire teased, plopping down onto the couch beside you, breaking the moment with her playful interruption. “I just came from the store, and I brought some treats. How about a snack break?”

“Please tell me you brought cookies!” you said, your eyes lighting up at the prospect of a sweet indulgence.

The thought of chocolate chip cookies brought a flood of childhood memories, evoking a sense of nostalgia that made you yearn for those simpler days.

“Of course! But you have to share with Olivia,” Claire replied, winking at her niece. “The more sugar, the more energy, right?”

You groaned playfully, feigning horror. “Oh no, we’ll never get her to sleep!” The thought of a hyperactive Olivia was amusing, and you could already envision the chaotic giggles and squeals that would ensue.

“That’s what makes it fun!” Oscar chimed in, clearly enjoying the lighthearted banter. “More giggles, less sleep!” His eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, and you couldn’t help but laugh, caught up in the camaraderie of the moment.

Claire started unpacking her bags, revealing an array of snacks: cookies, fruit snacks, and juice boxes. As she handed you a cookie, you took a bite, savoring the rich chocolate melting in your mouth.

“Delicious!” you declared, grabbing another one before Olivia could spot them. But Olivia had already caught sight of the brightly colored juice boxes and was reaching out for one, her eyes wide with curiosity.

“Looks like we’ve got a little juice thief on our hands,” Claire said, chuckling as you quickly grabbed a juice box for Olivia. “Here you go, little one,” you said, handing it over.

Olivia squealed in delight, her tiny hands clasping the juice box, and you watched in pure joy as she took her first sip, her little face lighting up with joy that seemed to radiate around the room.

“See? We’re perfect at this,” you said, feeling a swell of pride as Olivia squeaked and wiggled with excitement.

Oscar leaned back against the couch, watching you with admiration, his gaze softening as it met yours.

“I could definitely get used to this family dynamic,” he said quietly, his words carrying a weight that made your heart flutter.

“Me too,” you replied, your heart swelling with warmth.

The joy of the moment made you realize that this was more than just babysitting; it was a glimpse into a future you both could build together, a shared vision that filled you with hope and longing.

As Olivia continued to giggle and bounce in your lap, you exchanged a knowing look with Oscar, a silent agreement passing between you.

This was just the beginning of many more beautiful moments to come, a preview of the laughter, the joy, and the unbreakable bond that family could create.

In the warmth of that living room, surrounded by the comforting presence of your loved ones, you felt a profound sense of belonging and the thrilling promise of a life filled with love and laughter ahead.

“So about that baby fever of yours?” Oscar whispers, leaning in closer, his breath tickling your ear. You feel a shiver run down your spine as he presses himself against you.

“What? Do you have it too?” you tease, your heart racing slightly as you turn to look at him, your playful smile lighting up your face.

He nods, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Maybe I do. Maybe I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately.”

[uzurakis]

hi kiara! can you please make a continuation of “their act of intimacy” but with gojo, toji, and sukuna? i melted the first time i read them with the other characters 😭 hope you have a good day ahead of you ❤️

THEIR ACT OF INTIMACY?

featuring: gojo satoru. ryomen sukuna. toji fushiguro.

n. aaa thanku for liking the previous one! this is for you nonnie <3 didn’t really proofread cause i’m running late on sleep lol. PART ONE HERE :0

GOJO SATORU. gojo finds it calming when you both take a shower together. however, his notion of "calming" may differ from the ordinary. instead of drowsing in warm water and doing all those private things such as soaping his back and shampooing his hair, you and him sometimes have other spontaneous ideas in mind.

as the warm water cascaded down, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of closeness that's as comforting as it is exhilarating. satoru, with his irrepressible charm and mischievous grin, stood beside you, his presence filled the space with a playful energy.

"ah, feels like heaven," he sighed, whilst eyes gleaming with shenanigans. you chuckled, reaching for the shampoo. “don’t start a water fight again, satoru. let us enjoy a nice and relaxing—“

but before you could react, a splash of water hit you square in the face, causing you to sputter and laugh. “gotcha!" the man exclaimed, his laughter echoed through the tiled walls.

"it’s sooo on now!" you declared, retaliating with a splash of your own.

and just like that, the bathroom transformed into a battleground, with water flying in every direction as you both engaged in your playful antics. amidst the laughter and the splashing, there's an undeniable sense of joy that filled the room.

"careful, satoru," you warned, dodging his playful advances, "you're going to get soap in your eyes."

but he just grinned. "not before you get ‘em first, babe.”

and so, you guys continued your playful banter. soaked to the bone and grinning from ear to ear, gojo satoru defines his own calming moments with you.

RYOMEN SUKUNA. your boyfriend is a big guy, or so he believes before you swoop in and baby him. does he resist? yes. but will he eventually agree? absolutely.

the aroma of freshly cooked pasta filled the air as you stood in the kitchen. across the room, your boyfriend, sukuna, leaned against the counter, watching you with a bemused expression. you took a small portion with a spoon in hand, "say 'a' for me, sukuna.”

"hell nah.” his face was holding back the disgust. “you know, i can feed myself, right?"

"come on, baby, just one bite," you urged, eyes pleading. he hesitated for a moment, then sighed, giving in to you. “no—tsk, fine.”

“just this once.”

as he reluctantly opened his mouth, you couldn't help but suppress a giggle at the sight of him being spoon-fed like a child. your boyfriend’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and he quickly swallowed the pasta, avoiding your gaze.

"see, that wasn't so bad, was it?" you teased, unable to contain your amusement.

he grumbled something unintelligible in response, but as you proceeded to feed him, he took every piece and never turned it down until the last bite.

TOJI FUSHIGURO. toji never declines your offer to groom him. he rarely takes attention to his appearance, whereas you insist on cleaning up him up and do it with your own hands. at first, he doesn't think of it as intimate thing because isn’t it just about cutting and shaving? but as time goes on, he understands how much you value him and treasures the time you spent solely on him.

the soft glow of evening light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm hue over the cozy living room. toji sat on the couch, his unkempt hair falling into his eyes. you watched him from afar with a fond smile tugging at your lips.

“toji,” you called out. “your hair has gotten longer than the last time i remember.” he chuckled softly, already accustomed to this routine. "is it that time again?"

with scissors and a comb in hand, you approached him with a smile. “c’mere, sit down, baby.”

letting a shrug plus a grin, the man complied, settling onto the stool you'd placed in the middle of the room. as you draped a towel around his shoulders, his eyes met yours in the mirror.

"you know, i understand why you enjoy doing this so much.” he admitted, leaning back as you began to comb through his hair.

"you know why?” you replied, your voice soft as you worked. "it's about taking care of each other, babe. showing love in the little things."

he fell silent at your words, mulling them over as you continued to trim away stray strands. gradually, the tension seemed to melt from his shoulders, replaced by a sense of ease and contentment.

@uzurakis — requests are open! <3

[ms-snape]

Ok I have the sweetest idea! Can you please write severus with a female reader who is just fascinated with his long hair and asks to style it for him, nothing crazy but you know bows like lucius or braids

Title: For me?

Warning: None, just pure fluff

Words Count: 1000+

Masterlist

---

In the dimly lit corridors of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where shadows danced in the flickering candlelight, Y/N flitted through the halls like a vibrant breath of fresh air. As the Herbology professor, she was well-versed in nurturing both plants and the students who so often found themselves enchanted by her passion. However, it was not just her lessons that captured the attention of those around her; it was the way she lit up at the mere mention of Severus Snape, the brooding Potions Master with a heart as deep as the dungeons he called home.

Severus, with his raven-black hair that cascaded like a dark waterfall, was a source of quiet intrigue. Though he preferred solitude, he found solace in Y/N’s company. Her laughter echoed like music, warming the cold stone walls of the castle. But there was one aspect of Severus that Y/N simply could not resist—his hair. To her, it was not merely an accessory but a canvas, a tapestry waiting for her gentle hands to weave magic into it.

“Severus, please,” Y/N implored one evening, her eyes sparkling with mischief as they lounged in the cozy confines of their shared place. A fire crackled softly, casting a warm glow that illuminated her face, highlighting the way her cheeks flushed with excitement. “Just let me style it once! I promise you’ll love it.”

Severus raised an eyebrow, his usual expression of stoic annoyance morphing into mild amusement. “I do not believe that would be appropriate, Y/N,” he replied, his voice low and measured, though there was an undeniable softness to his tone. “My hair is not a toy for your amusement.”

With a dramatic pout that could rival even the most skilled of performers, Y/N crossed her arms, her lower lip jutting out in a way that made her look irresistibly adorable. “But it would be so much fun! And you have such beautiful hair! It deserves to be styled, not left to hang limply like a neglected broom.”

Severus fought to suppress a smile, the corners of his mouth betraying him. She had a way of disarming him, of stripping away his defenses with her infectious enthusiasm. “It is merely hair,” he muttered, attempting to maintain his facade of indifference.

“But it’s your hair,” she insisted, her voice rising slightly in excitement. “It has character! Just think of the potential!”

He sighed, knowing full well that her stubbornness would not easily be swayed. “Y/N,” he began, a hint of exasperation creeping into his tone, “I hardly see how this is—”

“Just once!” she interrupted, leaning closer, her eyes wide and pleading. “For me?”

For a moment, the world outside their bubble faded away. Severus felt the weight of her gaze on him, filled with an earnestness that tugged at something deep within his chest. He took a breath, allowing himself to be swept up in the moment. “Fine,” he relented, the word escaping his lips almost against his will. “But only for a moment.”

Y/N’s face lit up with unrestrained joy, and in that instant, all of Severus’s reservations melted away like snow beneath the sun. He could not deny her anything when she looked at him like that.

“Yay!” she squealed, her voice a melody of delight. She quickly ushered him to a nearby chair, her hands moving with purpose as she began to untangle the strands of his hair. As her fingers slipped through the silky locks, Severus felt a strange mixture of vulnerability and warmth. He was accustomed to being the one in control, yet here he was, yielding to her playful whims.

“Your hair is so soft,” she remarked, a hint of awe in her voice. “Have you been using that conditioning potion I recommended?”

“Perhaps,” he replied, feigning nonchalance even as he felt his heart rate quicken at her touch. The way she concentrated, her brows slightly furrowed, made her even more endearing. He watched as she sectioned his hair, her movements precise and graceful.

“Now, let’s see,” she murmured to herself, her focus unwavering. “A braid? A twist? No… I know!” With a burst of inspiration, she began to weave his hair into intricate patterns, her fingers dancing like a skilled artist. Severus felt a surge of warmth at her dedication, each tug and pull both comforting and invigorating.

As she worked, they exchanged soft, teasing banter, laughter spilling from their lips like the most precious potion. Y/N’s enthusiasm was contagious, and soon even Severus found himself enjoying the process. She recounted tales of her students’ antics in the greenhouse, her expressive gestures painting vivid images that made him chuckle despite himself.

“I’ve decided this is the look you should adopt,” Y/N announced triumphantly, securing the final braid with a delicate ribbon. She stepped back to admire her handiwork, her eyes sparkling with delight.

Severus caught his reflection in the nearest mirror, and for the first time, he saw something different—something that spoke of connection, of warmth, and of a world beyond the cold, dark potions and brewing shadows that had long defined him. “It appears I have been transformed into a woodland sprite,” he remarked dryly, but the corners of his mouth betrayed the fondness he felt.

Y/N clapped her hands, bouncing on her heels. “You look incredible! I can’t believe you ever doubted this.” She stepped forward, her fingers brushing against his cheek as she leaned in, eyes softening. “I love seeing this side of you.”

In that moment, the air crackled with an unspoken truth. Severus felt an overwhelming swell of affection for her—how she brought light into his otherwise somber existence. Her laughter filled the silence he had grown so accustomed to, and he couldn’t help but admire the way her passion made even the darkest corners of the castle feel alive.

“Perhaps,” he began, the words feeling foreign yet exhilarating on his tongue, “I could tolerate such transformations more often, provided it remains… just between us.”

Y/N beamed, her joy radiant and uncontained. “Deal! But next time, I’m trying out a crown braid!”

As she leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder, Severus felt the weight of his walls crumbling further. In her presence, he was not merely the Potions Master; he was something more—something hopeful, something cherished. Together, they sat in the soft glow of the firelight, a tangle of hair and heart, weaving a bond that transcended the very magic of the world around them.

[iniquitousyearning]

MATHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Thirty--info:-You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

Tags: 18+, SMUT, PIV, Oral Sex (f rec), Dirty Talk, Unprotected Sex, Praise Kink, Degradation, Morning Sex, Love-Making, ANGST! FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF.

Find the rest of the chapters HERE.

In the depths of the night, your dreams unfurled a complex tapestry of fears and uncertainties. The lucid scenes played out like a haunting ballet, shadows weaving intricate patterns on the canvas of your subconscious.

In the dream, Dumbledore's venerable voice resonated with a gravity that bespoke both wisdom and disappointment.

"You must confront your challenges…your fears, young witch," he intoned, his eyes reflecting not just understanding but a palpable disappointment, a profound sorrow in his gaze as the conversation switched, growing more grave. "I regret to inform you that there are no positions available for you. Not after your unprofessional behaviour.”

Flashes of disappointment intensified, drowning your lungs in its depth, Dumbledore's scrutiny cutting through the facades you had worked so hard to carefully construct for all those bloody months. Before you could process it, the dream seamlessly transitioned to a poignant future, your long-anticipated graduation day, where joy was now eclipsed by an unspoken sorrow.

Mattheo, a figure of proud accomplishment tainted by the weight of disappointment, stood before you. In this dream, your fingers intertwined for a final embrace, the unspoken acknowledgment of paths diverging echoing with heartbreak. The whispered goodbye carried the burden of reality, the truth of life pulling you apart, and a palpable pain radiated from Mattheo, his eyes mirroring the depth of his hurt.

And despite all of these emotions, in the dream, you struggled to admit the true extent of your pain. The reluctance to acknowledge the wounds, the fear that this love might crumble under the weight of your mistakes, lingered in the subtext. The dream became a harrowing journey through the corridors of vulnerability, where the echoes of disappointment and heartbreak were met with an internal struggle to confront and heal.

You found yourself standing at a crossroads, torn between the desire to fully embrace your love for this man, and the paralyzing fear of the inevitable heartbreak that loomed on the horizon, a shadow you knew was yet to follow.

As you jolted awake, the tendrils of the dream still lingering, you found yourself face to face with a peacefully sleeping Mattheo. The room unfolded around you with hushed tranquility--the black lake just beyond the window mirrored the early morning light, its rippling reflections casting intricate soft shadows across Mattheo's peaceful face. The dim lighting in the room whispered of the approaching dawn, a delicate glow that hinted at the promise of a new day.

His arms were securely wrapped around you, one hugging your waist, the other under your head--creating a cocoon of protective solace. His long lashes rested gently against his cheeks, and a cascade of messy curls adorned his forehead, adding a touch of vulnerability to his slumbering form.

Feeling the sting of your dream still lingering, you wiggled in his embrace, snuggling in closer to him.

The air held a serene stillness, interrupted only by the rhythmic cadence of Mattheo's breathing. The juxtaposition of the dream's emotional turbulence and the peaceful reality of the waking world blurred briefly as you took in the details--the soft hues of the room, the play of shadows on Mattheo's features, and the subtle acknowledgment of the early morning hour--all of them calming your anxiety within seconds.

Mattheo's lids fluttered open softly at your movements, his eyes dazed as he blinked away the remnants of sleep. His chocolate pools, catching the morning light, held a timeless warmth as they met yours. A gentle hum escaped his lips, and he inhaled a sharp breath as he instinctively pulled you closer.

"What's the matter, Raven?" Mattheo murmured, his lids fluttering back closed in a languid motion.

The deep rasp of his voice, raw with the remnants of sleep, sparked a warmth within you, like a comforting ember glowing softly. His words, spoken with a blend of curiosity and a touch of husky vulnerability, lingered in the quiet morning air, igniting tingles on your skin.

One of his hands, calloused and tender, glided lower to rest on your hip, the connection between you deepening as your legs became entangled in the quiet intimacy of the morning.

"Sorry for waking you," you whispered, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. His hand, seemingly on a mindless journey, slithered around to rest gently on your lower back now. "It was just a bad dream."

"Who hurt you?" Mattheo mumbled in a groggy, raspy tone, his lids still resting closed. A completely serious expression adorned his face as he added, "give me a name and I'll strip the skin from their bones."

"Someone's definitely not a morning person," you quipped, a groggy chuckle seeping into his neck. A comforting warmth enveloped you as you teased, "Waking up ready for a battle, huh?"

He shifted, molding himself against you, and it was in that moment that you became aware of him, entirely--the firm press of his desire throbbing against your torso.

"Mm...I've certainly woken up with a fight in mind," Mattheo groggily purred, a trace of arrogance lingering in his tone. "But maybe not the one you're thinking about."

"Shit..." your thighs quivered, seeking friction, and with a sleepy smirk, you added, "no fight necessary, Matty...I was disarmed the second I heard that sexy morning voice of yours."

Mattheo's hand slipped lower, finding your ass and giving it a playful squeeze, his grip growing firmer with each passing moment. A husky groan escaped him as he throbbed against you, plush lips pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head.

"Not like you to surrender so easily," he teased, a shiver of anticipation dancing along your spine as he demanded, "tell me about the dream first."

You shifted, your hand tracing a deliberate path along the strong contours of his arm. With a tender yet purposeful motion, your fingers wove into his hair, entangling themselves in his tousled curls. His lashes responded like delicate butterflies, fluttering in rhythm with the shallow bursts of his chest as you tugged gently.

"It was nothing," your voice, a soft murmur, attempted to dismiss the weight of the dream. Coaxingly, your lips pressed kisses against his neck, their warmth acting as a soothing balm against his skin. "Just a stupid thing."

Your gentle murmur aimed to dissolve the tension, encouraging him to release the probing question that lingered in the tranquil, dawn-lit room, but of course, your efforts would prove futile.

"Clearly, it wasn't nothing." Mattheo's nails dug into the skin of your backside, his grip tightening with a fervor that bespoke an intense need. His body turned relentless, an urgency in his touch as if he needed you more than the very air he breathed. "If you don't tell me in five seconds, I'll deny you orgasms until you're in fucking tears, understand?"

Torn between a desire not to sound vulnerable and a plea for mercy, you instinctively tightened your grip on his hair. Your body flooded with warmth as you burrowed your head further against his neck, hiding your face from his view.

"It was about the future...about us," your voice was low, nearly inaudible. There was a long, silent pause before you spoke again. "I just...what do you want out of life after grad, Matty?"

In a sudden, swift movement, he flipped you onto your back. His strong fingers wrapped around both your wrists, holding them captive as he climbed over you. The weight of his body pressed against yours overwhelmed you with a clamouring lust, an undeniable force that spoke of desire and possession.

"What do I want?" he whispered, his dark eyes boring into yours with an intensity that left little room for evasion. "Hm..."

Seemingly lost in thought, Mattheo leaned in, pressing slow, deliberate kisses against your cheek, a trail of warmth that heightened the tension between your bodies. His grip on your wrists tightened, a subtle yet commanding restraint as the proof of his desire pressed against your pelvis, fuelling flames that danced between your naked bodies.

"You know what I want, Raven?" As Mattheo mumbled against your neck, his curls gently tickling your cheek, your heart leapt with each syllable, your lids fluttering shut as you drowned beneath his warmth. "I want you to stop worrying so fucking much..."

Mattheo released your wrists, one hand finding purchase next to your head as the other threaded through your hair, softly soothing your scalp. Heat blossomed, blazing between your bodies as skin skimmed skin, and you writhed, wrapping your arms around him.

"I want you to stop doubting us....doubting me..." he mouthed wet, warm kisses at your throat. "But what I want...most of all...is just to be with you."

"But," you blushed, thighs buzzing with need. "What if we can't?"

Nipping your ear, he moved lower, hand leaving your hair to skate over your side, painting pleasure with his calloused palm as he went. He suckled at your clavicle, tracing a line to your sternum with his tongue--you whimpered.

"Then we'll find a way." He murmured, his breath washing warm over your skin. "Because I'm not going anywhere."

Gripping your backside, he burned kisses between your breasts, briefly acknowledging them with a nuzzle before continuing--his mouth was tender and deliberate, as if you were parchment, as if you would tear under his touch. Amidst the caresses, a realization echoed within you--this man, once seemingly distant, had transformed before your eyes. The disbelief lingered, weaving through your internal thoughts as you grappled with the profound shift. His unwavering commitment, the assurance that he wasn't going anywhere, left you in uncharted emotional territory.

The conflicting currents of vulnerability and safety created a storm within. You still found yourself marvelling at how this man who was hardly a mere acquaintance at the beginning of the year, had now become a source of comfort, a haven within the unpredictable sea of emotions. It was a sensation wholly unfamiliar, yet undeniably welcomed--a delicate dance between disbelief and the profound realization that, in Mattheo's embrace, you had found a sanctuary, a place to be unapologetically yourself.

Tears brimmed, bliss buzzing. "Mattheo..."

Abruptly, he pulled back, his hand shifting from your backside and darting up to grip your jaw, his touch commanding yet tender. He met your eyes with an intensity that held a hint of vulnerability, his thumb brushing softly over your cheek.

"Do you understand me?" he asked, his voice a low, raspy murmur. His grip sought assurance, and he implored, "tell me you understand."

Your heart thundered. "It's just...we've said goodbye so many times before-"

Mattheo cut you off with a fervent shake of his head, his thumb continuing its gentle caress on your cheek.

"No more goodbyes, Raven," he declared, his voice resolute yet carrying a touch of tenderness. "We're not playing that game anymore--you think I could ever do this again? You think I could ever find another as maddeningly perfect as you are?..."

he paused, searching your eyes for a moment, before he finally whispered; "You have me...you're safe."

Your heart melted, and with that, he dipped low, his lips capturing yours in an instant. Out of pure joy, you sighed, surrendering to the warmth of the kiss, your eyelids fluttering closed, fingers delving deep into his hair.

A soft grunt escaped him, the kiss deepening, and he shifted his hand to cradle your head, pulling you closer. A contented whine escaped you, ecstasy radiating in your chest. In his embrace, you let go of tension, allowing the remnants of fear to disintegrate. You found solace in the trust that he would keep you safe, that you two would undoubtedly find a way to make things work.

"Nothing can change that," he mumbled against your lips, his lashes fluttering against his cheeks before he broke away again, kissing a steady path back down your neck. "I need you to get that through this beautiful, stubborn little head of yours."

A soft, breathy chuckle escaped you, your fingers slipping from his hair to gently trace mindless patterns on his back.

"Alright, alright," you teased, a playful glint in your eyes. "I'll work on getting that through my 'beautiful, stubborn little head’...but only if you promise to keep reminding me."

Mattheo's lips continued their journey, a purposeful exploration down your chest. Each kiss marked a steady descent, and as he ventured lower, the subtle tensing of his muscles hinted at the strength restrained beneath his touch. His messy curls framed his face like an untamed halo, and he pressed further with a playful smirk, an amused huff escaping him against your skin.

"Reminding you is the minimum," he replied, his voice carrying a promise wrapped in a husky tone. "I'll fucking drill it into your bones, princess--you're mine, I'm yours. Say it."

Your breath caught at the intensity in his words, and a shiver ran down your spine. Meeting his eyes, a mix of desire and vulnerability, you whispered, "I'm yours, Mattheo. And you're mine."

With a gentle hum, he trailed kisses over the curve of your belly, descending to the intimate swell between your thighs. Settling between your legs, his lips tenderly caressed your thighs, eliciting delightful squirms as waves of pleasure surged through your nerves.

"That's right, baby..." he cooed, kissing inward toward the crease of your thigh. "You will always be my first, last, and only love."

With a deliberate touch, he pressed his lips to your pussy, tentative at first, grazing once, twice, before lavishing it with a deep, voracious kiss. Your cry echoed in the room as his strong tongue slid through your slit, exploring your tender folds, a soft groan resonating in his chest. Mattheo maintained eye contact, locking his gaze with yours while he lavished your sex with his mouth. Blinking, you struggled to clear the foggy haze of nearly-untamed emotions that threatened to spill out, his words echoing in your mind like a tempest.

Your fingers curled in his hair. "Oh, fuck..."

You gasped for air, feeling the oxygen drain from the room. Tightening your grip on his head, your hips involuntarily twitched beneath him, the intensity of the moment leaving you breathless. Dizziness washed over you--the heady blend of infatuation and the surging pleasure left you gasping, bucking in the throes of desire. Cravings surged within, a hunger for more, a yearning for him that still caught you by surprise, even after all of this time.

"What else worries you," he murmured into your cunt, his warm breath turning the blood in your veins to pure magma. "What else are you afraid of."

A muted cry escaped your lips, and you swallowed against a tightening throat--Mattheo's kisses delicately navigated your slit, as though tending to the intangible wounds forged in the ebb and flow of your complex, on-and-off sexual intimacy over the past few months. Surprisingly, words flowed with ease, a spontaneous revelation of your soul, unshackled by the torrent of bliss coursing through your senses.

"I...I'm afraid..." you gasped, your eyes squeezing shut, your breath hitching as his murmurs sent shudders through your limbs. "Afraid of losing myself in this, in you," another gasp escaped, "and of not being able to find my way back."

Mattheo purred in praise, urging you to keep going, delving his tongue in between your folds, his tongue wet and strong as it slipped through your slit. There was a deliberate avoidance of your clit--which twitched and stiffened in ways it would only do for him--his mouth marking you in memory as he kissed you not only in desire, but in apology. In servitude.

"And the fear of...of needing you more than I should," you admitted through gasps, your vulnerability laid bare. "Of loving you so much that...that I might lose sight of my own path."

Licking lines through you, Mattheo purred again when he reached the top of your cunt, circling your clit with lavish, lingering kisses. You groaned, fingers coiling around his curls, your hips bucking, begging for him, for his release. But he was torturous--drawing his tongue between your slit until his nose grazed your clit, sparking pleasure, a moan catching deep in your throat. Humming with satisfaction, he rolled around it, and air fled you in wanton breaths while you tried in vain to grind onto his face, fighting his hold on you.

"And...ah," you stammered through gasps, your admission laden with a heavy truth, tears brimming in your eyes, promoting you to squeeze them shut. "Most of all...I'm...I'm afraid of losing you."

Finally, finally--he rewarded your patience and flicked your clit with his tongue, swirling it in saliva before taking it between his plush lips. You sobbed, tears spilling free, body thrashed with waves of ecstasy, and Mattheo moaned into you, his mouth hot and soft and working your clit as it throbbed and ached against him.

Laving at you, he sucked, hands stroking up your sides until he reached your breasts, palming at them, thumbs brushing your nipples. Your back arched in bliss, and you jerked his head into you--in response, he battered your nub with his tongue, suckling you faster, chasing your wriggling frame as you gyrated in rhythm, your chin dropping to your chest, body plunged in pleasure.

"Let go for me," Mattheo murmured, his hold on your hips tightening, his shoulders tensing. "I promise I'll catch you."

He drove his face into your cunt, sucking your clit past his teeth, beating it faster, groaning, bathing in your slick. You whined, twitched, moaned, and euphoria exploded over your skin--within seconds, you were erupting, cumming hard onto his tongue, clit pulsing in his lips, walls spasming at his chin. Mattheo sucked in a breath through his nose, swallowing your orgasm, laving you into oversensitivity as he sucked until you twitched in discomfort. When he finally released you; you collapsed, spent, sweat sticking to the sheets, still shivering with tears.

"Such a good girl for me..." Mattheo massaged your thighs, strong, warm grip kneading your buzzing skin--the tenderness in his gaze flushed you with heat, and you began to tremble. "Shh..."

You swallowed, lungs still finding their rhythm. Mattheo's hands moved with a gentle reassurance, caressing up your thighs and over your hips in a rhythmic dance. Simultaneously, his mouth began a wet trail of soft kisses, ascending with each delicate touch up your stomach.

"Your vulnerability is a fucking honour, my pretty girl," his warm breath interweaving with the intimate cadence of his movements. "Don't keep any of that inside, anymore...you can trust me with your fears...your worries..." the comforting strokes continued, a tactile promise as he whispered, "I'm more than willing to take the weight off your shoulders."

His lips found your skin in a tender embrace, and he hummed against your tingling flesh as he added, "I'm with you...I'll help you find your way, just as you helped me find mine..."

Your chest heaved with a mixture of pleasure and vulnerability. As Mattheo's words echoed in the air, you managed to rasp out, "I trust you," each syllable tinged with the raw honesty of your emotions. "I fucking love you."

His touch, both commanding and comforting, sent shivers through your trembling form, and the weight of your fears began to lift, replaced by the reassuring warmth of his presence. Mattheo's gaze held a depth of emotion as he absorbed your words. His hands, still moving with a gentle reassurance, tightened ever so slightly on your skin.

And then, he shifted, collapsing down on the sheets and slipping up beside you, guiding you to turn onto your side, facing away from him, his arms wrapping around your waist, his mouth teasingly ghosting against your ear.

In a husky whisper, he murmured, "I love you too, Raven, but you already knew that...didn't you?"

He was all-encompassing, warm and solid and strong, enfolding you in something you almost believed was invincibility.

You hummed, lids fluttering softly. "Of course I did, Matty.."

"That's right, baby," Mattheo tucked his knees behind yours, shifting your ass so it rested against his hips--like this, you felt his cock flatted between you, throbbing as you tweaked your position. "My beautiful little angel...all I want from life is to wake up like this every fucking morning...with you...wet and needy for me..."

As you whined, squirming against him, Mattheo leaned in, brushing his lips against the skin behind your ear. He trailed kisses and nibbles down your neck, making you dizzy with pleasure, his hands moving to cup your breasts, rubbing his thumbs against your already hard nipples. You let out a soft moan, eyes rolling as you arched your back into his touch.

"You're fucking perfect." The low thunder of his voice melted in your ears, and he murmured your name. "You want me to fuck that pretty pussy, hm?"

Your throat was tight, and instantly, you nodded. "Yes, Matty...please..."

"Mm." He hummed. "That's my good girl."

You shifted your head to the side until Mattheo's lips met yours in a soft, gentle kiss, one of his hands moving to guide his throbbing length toward your core, groaning into your mouth as he entered you with an unhurried, deliberate thrust of his hips. The sensation of him filling you slowly, inch by tantalizing inch, elicited a chorus of whimpering and moaning, each one bringing forth a new wave of exquisite pleasure. As the kiss deepened and he skillfully rolled his hips, your body responded instinctively, arching into him, welcoming his intimate touch.

One arm held you securely against his chest, and the other shifted to your hair, the grip of his hand against your head both comforting and soothing, tracing calming strokes along your scalp. A fusion of bodies unfolded, your essence intertwining with his. The synchronized rhythm of your racing hearts echoed the now-openly spoken connection coursing through your veins.

Mattheo broke the kiss, pressing his forehead into yours. "You are the only one for me." He was seated inside of you, offering soft, gentle thrusts. "I knew it the second you saw the darkest parts of me...the fucking hell in my eyes and didn't even blink...when you told me it mirrored your own."

You whimpered, head spinning in a whirlwind of emotion, and he kissed your nose. "You've always been the woman whose words hang in my mind..." another kiss to your jaw. " ...the woman whose face I see before I sleep..." he confessed, snuffing a moan in his throat. " ...the woman who plagues me every moment I'm awake..."

Every single syllable from Mattheo's lips left you in utter disbelief, grappling with the unfathomable reality that had transpired within your life. Once entirely convinced that love was an unattainable concept, a realm you adamantly avoided, you now stood fully-drenched in the depth of a connection with a partner who defied every single living expectation. Mattheo Riddle, a man who should have been everything you steered clear of, turned out to be precisely what your heart craved--a revelation that shook the foundations of your entire understanding.

In the whirlwind of emotions, you found yourself astounded by the depth of this unexpected bond. He saw facets of your being that had remained veiled to others, unraveling layers of your soul with an understanding that transcended imagination. It was then that you realized, some hearts just understood each other, even in silence.

"You're relentless," his lips hovered mere millimetres from your ear as he intensified his pace, his fingers finding your clit. "You're maddeningly fucking beautiful." A forceful jolt from his hips, and you shattered, the pleasure overwhelming. "And you're the most insatiable, fierce little creature I've ever come across. You stirred me up without effort.”

Your voice was a whimper. "Mattheo..."

His embrace tightened around you, anchoring you as he thrust deeply, filling you completely. "Fuck-you're my good fucking slut...all fucking mine..." he groaned your name, sucking at your shoulder, tongue leaving hot lines on your neck. "This tight little cunt only stretches for me...those pretty lips only moan my fucking name..." his fingers whirled your clit. "I'll be dead before I allow that to change."

"Gods-" you choked, eyes squeezed shut, wetness damping your cheeks as you clutched onto his arm, revelling in every single inch that he was giving you, the pleasure from his fingers intoxicating your conscious. "Matt-fuck-oh...."

"Fuck--" a feral kiss bruised your lips, his cock splitting you with deep thrusts. "Such a good fucking slut...my good little cockslut, hm?"

"Yes-" you gasped, his fingers moving quicker. "Yes-yes!"

"That's it..." He muttered your name against your mouth. "Cum for me...let me feel how much you love this cock..." "

"Fuck-" one more breath, one more gasp, blink, moan, and you were there. "Fuck! Mattheo! Oh, Gods..."

Euphoria swept through you like a tempest, unraveling the seams of your sanity, and you shattered, convulsing with the overwhelming intensity of your climax. Your walls spasmed around his dick, milking him hard, and Mattheo held you, groaning and grunting into your mouth as he held off his peak for as long as he could, until it was too much and he surrendered--his lips working over yours as he came deep inside your heat, hips hitting your ass with every rush of rapture.

After what felt like minutes, he stalled, the aftershocks of bliss rippling through your bodies at once while you remained there catching breath, still connected.

Languid and sated, the two of you paused in a state of post-ecstasy bliss, your senses heightened in a way that defied fatigue. Mattheo, positioned behind you, had seemingly recuperated--his withdrawal from your cunt accompanied by a slow, deep guttural groan that reverberated through the aftermath. A sigh of relief escaped him, and you grinned, nestling against the contours of his body, not ready to leave the solace of his warmth.

The press of his lips against your temple held a silent reassurance, a whispered promise of care and comfort in the aftermath of shared passion.

Finally finding your voice, you could hardly articulate your thoughts, but one question lingered on the forefront, slipping past your teeth. "Where the fuck have you been, all this time..."

Mattheo hummed, placing a gentle kiss to your shoulder, nestling his face into your neck. "On my way here, Raven."

[bunny-1111]

I can hear the bells TN x reader

Theo Nott Oneshot.

...

There he was in all his glory, smile beaming, hair slicked back with that effortless elegance that made your heart flutter. A vision of what you’d always yearned for: Theodore Nott, standing at the altar, looking as if he’d just stepped out of your wildest daydreams.

You inhale deeply, the air thick with the scent of roses and whispered promises. This is it—you’re really getting married. It felt so surreal.

As you glance around the room, the soft glow of candlelight dances on the polished wood, casting a warm hue over the gathered friends and family, their smiles like sunshine piercing through clouds. Each face reflects the joy of the moment, but all you can focus on is him. Your heart pounds in your chest as you look down at your bouquet, a cascade of white peonies and deep crimson roses, the perfect contrast to your dress.

Finally, you lift your gaze, locking eyes with Theo. In that instant, the world falls away, and it's just the two of you. His deep-set eyes glimmer with unshed tears, his expression a mixture of awe and love. As you begin to recite your vows, emotion swells in your throat, choking you up. You can’t help but tear up as you promise him forever, your voice thick with emotion.

Theodore’s voice wavers as he speaks his vows to you, each word heavy with sincerity, wrapping around you like a warm embrace. It’s perfect; he is perfect.

“Now, you may kiss the bride,” a voice rings out, and you feel your heart leap as you lean into him. The kiss is electric, sweeping you off your feet and igniting a spark deep within. You melt into him, the world around you fading as the bells start to ring, echoing joyously through the air, a symphony to mark your union.

Chime, chime, chime.

You pull back, breathless and beaming, your hands entwined with his as you walk down the aisle, the bells ringing louder, enveloping you in their sweet sound.

But then—

“Shouldn’t they have stopped playing those bells by now?” you laugh, turning to Theo, whose smile is contagious.

He only grins, leaning in closer, but your vision starts to blur, and the sweet sound of the bells is still there, persistent, relentless.

Chime, chime, chime.

“Turn off the alarm, darling,” Theodore murmurs, sleep heavy in his voice as he turns over, arms wrapping around you tighter.

“Hmmm,” you respond, half-asleep, trying to shake the haze of slumber from your mind. The dream had to be real—the bell’s chime still reverberating in your ears, a lingering memory of what you had just experienced.

“Baby, the alarm,” Theodore repeats, his voice a gentle rumble as he leans over to turn it off. Reality crashes in, and you realise you’ve dreamt it all. It wasn’t wedding bells; it was your fucking alarm.

With a groan, you rub your eyes, staring at your surroundings—the familiarity of your room and the warmth of Theo beside you, warm and bare.

“What’s wrong?” he growls, pulling you back against his chest, his voice laced with sleep.

“No,” you whine, a small cry escaping as the weight of disappointment settles in your chest. You can almost feel the dream slipping away like sand through your fingers. It had been so perfect; you really thought it was real.

Theodore senses your distress, feeling your face scrunch against him. “Baby, what’s wrong?” His voice is soft, laced with sleepy concern.

“I was having the best dream—we were getting married and—” you begin, the memory washing over you like a warm tide, bittersweet and beautiful.

“Oh, hunny,” he coos, his voice soothing as he runs a hand through your hair. “Go back to sleep and dream on. It will happen, alright?” He tightens his hold around your waist, grounding you in the moment.

“Let’s just finish school first, alright? Go back to sleep,” he mumbles, his breath warm against your neck, pulling you closer as the remnants of your dream linger in the air.

You huff, shutting your eyes tightly, desperate to conjure the enchanting imagery of your wedding day once more. You long to drift back into that blissful dream.

[connorsui]

♡||♡ Her

Simon x Wife! Reader

Genre/Warnings: Romance, Comfort, Fluff, no angst we die in Simon's Arms (romantically)

Synopsis: In the stillness of their home, he finds solace in her arms and allows himself to fully relax for the first time in ages.

Note: Sappy Simon? …happy Simon? …Simon Loves his Wife? …OC Simon? ..who knows this man just misses his wife

w.c: 987

The front door creaked open, a sound that was music to Simon Riley’s ears after months of harsh, discordant noises from the battlefield. He stepped inside, the weight of his deployment slipping away with every step. The warmth of the house enveloped him, mingling with the mouthwatering aroma of his wife’s cooking. The golden hues of the late afternoon sun filtered through the lace curtains, casting a soft, ethereal light across the room. It painted the space in a warm glow that seemed to hold a promise of peace and comfort.

His eyes found her immediately. She stood in the kitchen, the heart of their home, where every corner held traces of her warmth and care. Her figure was framed by the window’s gentle light, creating a halo of softness around her. The apron she wore, tied snugly around her waist, accentuated her graceful silhouette. Her hair, a cascade of waves, tumbled over her shoulders, catching the light in a way that made it shimmer like silk.

Simon’s breath hitched as he took in the sight of her, her presence a stark contrast to the harsh realities he had faced. The sound of her humming, a sweet, tuneful melody that echoed through the kitchen, was like a balm to his weary soul. He felt a deep, overwhelming sense of love and relief as he approached her, the stress of months on deployment melting away with every step.

He gently placed his hands on her shoulders, his touch a mixture of reverence and longing. She turned to face him, her eyes widening in surprise before they softened into a look of pure joy. Her face lit up with a smile that seemed to outshine the sun itself, and Simon felt his heart swell with a love that felt as fresh and powerful as it had on the day they first met.

“Simon, you’re home,” she said, her voice a soothing melody that wrapped around him like a warm blanket. The softness in her tone, the tenderness that flowed from her, was more comforting than any words he could muster.

“I couldn’t wait to see you,” Simon replied, his voice thick with emotion. He reached out to caress her cheek, his thumb gently brushing away a stray lock of hair that had fallen over her face. “You’re more beautiful than I remember, if that’s even possible.”

She blushed, her cheeks turning a soft pink as she looked up at him with adoration. “Please…what's all this about?” she said, her voice a gentle caress against his ear.

Simon’s gaze lingered on her, taking in the delicate curve of her lips, the way they seemed to invite him into a world of warmth and love. He could see the flecks of gold in her eyes, sparkling with an affection that mirrored his own. It was as if, in that moment, she was the very embodiment of peace—a stark contrast to the chaos he had left behind.

Without another word, Simon pulled her into his arms, embracing a refuge from the world outside. Her warmth seeped into him, her heartbeat a steady, calming rhythm against his chest. He buried his face in her neck, inhaling the soft scent of vanilla and lavender that clung to her skin. The smell was a reminder of countless serene moments they had shared, a soothing contrast to the acrid smells of smoke and sweat that had surrounded him for months.

“I’ve missed this,” Simon murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve missed you.”

She sighed softly, her fingers tracing gentle patterns on his back as she held him close. “I’ve missed you too, Simon”

Simon’s arms tightened around her, his need to be near her evident in every inch of their embrace. He slowly pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, his own filled with a mixture of awe and love.

A tender smile graced her lips as she reached up to cup his face in her hands. “You're soo much more loving than usual,” she said softly. “I'm starting to think you've gotten replaced”

Simon’s eyes roamed over her face, memorizing every detail with a sense of wonder. He gently cupped her face, his thumbs brushing over her cheeks as he leaned in. His lips found hers in a kiss that was slow and reverent, as if he were savoring every moment of their reunion. The kiss was tender, filled with an aching longing that spoke of months apart and the deep connection they shared.

Her lips were soft and warm, the taste of her a sweet reminder of everything he had been missing. He kissed her deeply, letting his emotions flow through the touch, pouring all the love and devotion he felt into the embrace. It was a kiss of longing, of relief, and of a love that had only grown stronger with time.

When they finally pulled away, both breathless and flushed, Simon looked at her with an expression of contentment. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy,” he said quietly, his voice filled with a deep, heartfelt sincerity. “You’re my home, my sanctuary. Just being near you makes everything right.”

She smiled, her eyes shining with tears of joy. “I may not know what's gotten into you …but ..I suppose I can indulge on this newfound you for now …so let me say this just once … you’re everything to me, Simon. I’ve been waiting for you to come back to me.”

They stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside forgotten. The soft glow of the sunset bathed them in a warm light, the room filled with the scent of her cooking and the gentle hum of her happiness. In each other’s embrace, Simon and his wife found the peace they had both been yearning for, a tranquil moment where nothing else mattered but their love and the comfort of being together once more.

Gimmie Sappy Simon...I would take that man even if nobody wants him

[redisthenewblue]

𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐘—𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐃 𝐱 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄! 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

—

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐈𝐝𝐢𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐢𝐧 [𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞]'𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐦.

[Name] frolicked through the meadows that sprawled behind their expansive home, delighting in the freedom of the open fields. They spun and twirled with sheer joy until they unexpectedly stumbled upon a charming little waterfall cascading into a serene pool of water. Casting a cautious glance over their shoulder, they ensured that no maids were in sight. With a bold step back, they leaped into the cool embrace of the water, creating quite the splash. Moments later, they surfaced, gasping for air.

“Young Master!” exclaimed a young woman with cascading black curls and piercing purple eyes as she scrambled down the rocks to reach the water's edge. “What on earth are you doing?! Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?!”

In response, [Name] simply chuckled at the sight of their maid’s alarmed expression. “Oh, Evangeline, you worry too much! I’m perfectly fine!”

Evangeline let out a soft sigh, a blend of exasperation and affection evident in her tone. “I can’t say the same for myself. You’re taking years off my life, [Name]! Now come on, let’s get you dried off.” With gentle insistence, she guided [Name] out of the water, deftly plucking a small leaf from their hair.

As a warm summer breeze swept through the air, the two made their way back to the manor, the scent of blooming flowers surrounding them.

“Please stay here while I fetch a towel,” Evangeline instructed before heading off to the closet, leaving [Name] to linger by the entrance.

While waiting, [Name] suddenly became aware of a faint yet intense sound that broke the tranquil atmosphere. Curiosity piqued, they tiptoed toward the source of the noise, which seemed to emanate from the office. Pressing their ear against the door, they strained to catch the conversation within.

“Why would you offer my child?!” came the sharp voice of their mother, Demetria. “The answer is a resounding No! No! No! No!” Her voice rose in pitch, filled with urgency. A mocking laugh echoed from behind the door.

“I did both you and her a favor! The Shrouds are highly respected individuals,” countered the voice of their aunt, Aphie. A wave of confusion washed over [Name] as they pondered what exactly had transpired and why it all seemed to revolve around them.

“Young Master, I was under the impression that I instructed you to remain by the entrance. However, let's set that aside for now,” Evangeline said as she draped a towel over [Name]’s shoulders, gently warming their damp form. They proceeded towards their room in an oddly silent manner, leaving the maid to hastily keep pace with them.

Once inside, [Name] collapsed onto the plush couch, letting out a groan of frustration.

“What seems to be the issue this time?” Evangeline asked, retrieving a fresh set of clothes for [Name] to change into.

“I’m not quite sure, Evangie. I have this nagging feeling that I might have done something wrong?” [Name] replied, closing their eyes and savoring the refreshing breeze flowing in through the open window.

“What leads you to think that?” Evangeline probed gently. The maid carefully hung the selected clothes on a hanger before turning her attention to drying [Name] girl off.

“While you were busy fetching a towel, I couldn’t help but overhear a conversation between Ma and Aunt Aphie. They were discussing me and then the Shroud family,” [Name] said, their gaze rising to meet Evangeline’s scrutinizing stare.

“It’s likely nothing for you to be concerned about; your mother cares for you deeply!” Evangeline attempted to uplift their spirits, yet there was an unmistakable air of secrecy surrounding her words.

“Evangeline, you know something, don’t you?” [Name] whispered, their voice barely above a murmur.

“No, Young Master!” she responded in a flurry, her eyes darting away to avoid direct contact.

“Yes, you do!” [Name] accused, pointing a finger at the maid. “What were they discussing?” They leaned in closer, their intense (e/c) eyes making Evangeline’s purple ones flicker with uncertainty.

“I—”

“Dinner’s ready, [Name] sweetie!” Their mother’s voice echoed gently from the hallway, cutting through the tension in the room.

"Let's hurry and get you changed," Evangeline said, completing the task of drying them off and assisting them in putting on their fresh clothes. Just before departing, [Name] cast a determined glance in her direction.

"I will find a way, Evangie, one way or another," [Name] declared confidently as they slipped out the door and into the hallway. Evangeline's expression softened, a wave of sadness washing over her. She began to collect [Name]’s damp clothes and the towel, preparing them for washing.

"I have no doubt you will, [Name]. I truly believe you will."

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

Dinner was undeniably awkward, particularly because it wasn't just a simple gathering of you and your mother. Your father, Zein, had joined, along with your aunt Aphie. This unusual arrangement signaled that something of great significance was unfolding since your mother would never permit your father to enter the house without a compelling reason. An uncomfortable silence enveloped the room for what felt like an eternity until you sensed the opportune moment to break the tension.

“Did I do something wrong?” you asked, causing the attention of everyone at the table to shift uncomfortably in your direction.

“No, not at all,” your mother replied, her tone sharp and direct, though you could tell there was more to the story than she let on.

“Oh, just tell them already, Demetria,” Aphie interjected, rolling her eyes in exasperation. Your mother shot her a fierce look, gripping her utensils tightly, clearly agitated.

“What are you talking about?” Demetria hissed, barely able to contain her frustration.

“Fine!” your aunt exclaimed, throwing her hands up in excitement, a wide grin spreading across her face. “You’re getting married! To a Shroud, no less!”

A chill coursed through your veins, and it felt as though your heart had momentarily ceased to function.

"Married?" you echoed in disbelief, your voice trembling. Tears began to pool in your eyes, and a look of sheer terror washed over your face. You were utterly appalled. "Mother? I thought you said—"

"[Name]," Demetria replied, her voice barely above a whisper, "I was unaware of this as well. Your aunt has made a proposal to the Shrouds without my consent. And your father, he—"

"Did what he thought was right." Your father finally interjected, his tone firm. "You were becoming too reckless. Furthermore, the Shrouds wield significant power in this community."

"I can't get married! I was planning to take over Mother’s agricultural business and—" You were abruptly interrupted.

"And what? It's already been decided. The contract has been signed. Now, all that remains is for you to marry and start a family, so your children can eventually take over his enterprise."

Tears streamed down your face as you succumbed to an overwhelming wave of despair, breaking into inconsolable sobs. 

“Mom!” You embraced the woman beside you as if you had just emerged from a terrifying nightmare, and she clung to you tightly, reluctant to let go. Small beads of water fell onto your blouse as Demetria nestled her head in the crook of your neck, seeking comfort.

“You will visit tomorrow and stay for a week to acclimate to the area. No arguments. My driver will arrive to take you to the dock,” Zein instructed firmly as he gathered his belongings and prepared to leave.

“I’m really going to miss you! Goodbye, little one!” Your aunt waved cheerfully before stepping out the door.

“I’m so sorry, [Name]! I never wanted this to happen!” Your mother trembled like a fragile leaf in your embrace. “You mean everything to me!”

You wiped your swollen eyes, trying to erase the pain that fell in the form of salty tears. The thought of enduring life in such a desolate place felt overwhelming, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that you might not survive there.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

[Name] sat on the porch, a small suitcase resting beside them. Dressed in bootcut jeans paired with a pearly top and matching heels, they exuded a blend of casual elegance. While the impending situation may not be entirely favorable, there might still be a lesson to be learned from it. Out of the corner of their eye, [Name] noticed a sleek black car with heavily tinted windows approaching.

“That must be Father’s car,” they murmured, moving closer to the vehicle and waiting patiently for the driver to emerge. The older man stepped out and quietly took the suitcase from their grasp before opening the car’s door. As the door closed behind them, [Name] gazed out the window, taking in the sights of what they were leaving behind. The crystal-clear waters, the vibrant flowers that bloomed each spring, and the stars that twinkled in the expansive night sky—all of it now felt like a distant memory. With their eyes glued to the window, [Name] watched as the scenery shifted every few moments, each passing view marking the end of a chapter in their life. Soft sniffles broke the silence as they reflected on the sorrowful expressions etched on their mothers’ and Evangeline’s faces. As they gazed ahead from the car, a dock gradually appeared on the horizon, revealing a small ferry that appeared to be operated by none other than a robot.

“Pardon me for interrupting, but if you don’t mind my curiosity, how exactly is that robot managing to operate on water?” [Name] gently tapped the driver’s shoulder to ask.

"The Shrouds are remarkable engineers, known for their ability to craft intricate designs." As the driver parked the vehicle and exited to open the doors, [Name] felt a spark of curiosity ignite in their eyes at the man's words. With their luggage in hand, they stepped onto the wooden planks and gradually made their way toward the boat. The driver quickly said his farewells before leaving them to board the vessel. [Name] let out a small shriek as the boat swayed slightly under their weight. 

“Kindly be cautious as you navigate your surroundings,” the robot instructed, its gaze fixed intently on the engine. [Name] couldn’t help but flinch at the sound of the mechanical voice. “Our next destination is—S.T.Y.X.”

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

As [Name] stepped out of the boat, their legs wobbled precariously, reminiscent of a fawn learning to stand. They held their breath, taking in the overwhelming mechanical architecture that loomed around them, exuding an aura of intimidation.

“Should I go inside?” [Name] asked, gesturing toward the door with their free hand. The robot paused for a moment before delivering a succinct response: “Proceed.”

With each heavy step, [Name] cautiously approached the door. Upon opening it, they were met with an astonishing sight—bright blue flames that gradually faded into a soft pink hue. Curiosity piqued, [Name] tilted their head slightly, observing a tall boy pacing back and forth, his expression one of evident nervousness.

“Brother!” a youthful robotic voice called out, shattering the tension that hung in the air. The boy, who had been pacing anxiously, came to an abrupt stop, his eyes locking onto [Name] with a mixture of disbelief and surprise.

“You’re early…” he murmured softly, a hint of shyness creeping into his demeanor as he averted his gaze from [Name].

“Am I? I apologize for that,” [Name] stammered, quickly redirecting their focus from the boy to the captivating environment around them. “This place is incredibly high-tech!” they exclaimed, their admiration shining through in their enthusiastic tone.

The boy observed as [Name] began to circle one of the robots. “What does this one do?” they inquired, their curiosity piqued.

“It’s a security model,” the boy responded, gaining confidence as he elaborated, “I actually contributed to some of its code myself.”

“Really? So the rest must have been developed by the head of the company?” [Name] leaned in, clearly engrossed in the conversation.

“You’re absolutely correct! For this week, my brother is serving as the chief director,” the young robot replied, excitement evident in his voice.

At that moment, the pieces began to fall into place for [Name]. The robot had referred to the boy as the brother of the chief director. This revelation meant that he must belong to the Shroud family. Could it be that they were about to marry him in a couple of days?

“Wait—so are you...?” [Name] trailed off.

The boy’s hair transformed into a vibrant pink hue, “Your fiancée, Idia Shroud.”

Hope you guys are just as excited about this story as I am!!

Taglist: @glitterandgoldfinds @sherryclover @1abi @lizzzysimp @floathyblues @toxicm0cha @kazudare @boredselkie

[littlefireball]

can you do a fic with Ateez Seonghwa x virgin reader? Where she never even touched herself, never orgasmed or squirted so Seognwha does all that and they go the full way but she bleeds when he goes in but mother seognwha knows what to say to push her through and get her to the pleasure. From their she squirts on him while he goes rough?

🐈‍⬛

I add some settings on it (⁠ʘ⁠ᴗ⁠ʘ⁠✿⁠) hope you like it

ꜱʜ|ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ, ꜱᴡᴇᴀᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴇᴀʀꜱ (ᴀ/ᴍ)

ꜰᴀᴋᴇ ɢᴏᴅ ꜱᴇᴏɴɢʜᴡᴀ x ꜱᴀᴄʀɪꜰɪᴄɪᴀʟ ᴏꜰꜰᴇʀɪɴɢ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ʟᴏɴɢ ꜱᴍᴜᴛ|ᴍᴏᴍᴍʏ ꜱᴇᴏɴɢʜᴡᴀ|ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ ᴏꜰ ʀᴇʟɪɢɪᴏᴜꜱ, ʙʟᴇᴇᴅɪɴɢ|ᴜɴᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ꜱᴇx|ꜰɪɴɢᴇʀɪɴɢ|ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 3.2ᴋ

In a secluded and desolate village, an inexplicable prosperity has taken root, defying all logic and expectations. The villagers attribute this miraculous transformation to the blessing of a mysterious deity, whose influence has brought life back to the barren land.

However, this prosperity comes at a grim cost - the sacrifice of an 18-year-old virgin every hundred years. The purity and sincerity of the sacrifice are believed to prolong the village's prosperity, as decreed by the deity worshipped by the villagers.

For unmarried women like you, reaching the age of eighteen brings a looming nightmare rather than the promise of adulthood. From a young age, you've witnessed your younger brother bask in the favor and attention of your family, while you remained in the shadows, neglected and unappreciated.

To your parents, you are merely a pawn in their pursuit of wealth. If you marry into a prosperous family before turning eighteen, it's deemed a success; but if you remain unmarried, you are destined to be the sacrificial offering.

Growing up devoid of love, surrounded by loneliness and ignorance, you've struggled against the unfair expectations placed upon you. Despite your efforts to resist, you were met with scolding and mistreatment, leaving you isolated and unheard.

One day, as your entitled brother demanded your servitude, you felt a surge of resentment at his audacity. Reluctantly complying with his demands, you couldn't shake the bitterness that had taken root within you.

Confronting him about his reckless behavior with the family's money, you were met with denial and deflection. Your parents, quick to defend your brother, silenced your attempts to speak up, leaving you feeling betrayed and abandoned.

As you were confined to the cabin, awaiting the inevitable sacrifice on your eighteenth birthday, the weight of injustice and abandonment pressed heavily upon you. The darkness surrounding you mirrored the bitterness that had seeped into your soul, a stark contrast to the prosperity that had come at such a high price.

As the days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, laughter still echoed through the halls of your home. They looked forward to the moment you die as it meant they could live a new, prosperous life.

Their words only served to fuel the fire of resentment burning within you but you could do nothing.

You often wondered what your fate would be, knowing that the day of sacrifice loomed closer with each passing sunrise. The thought of being offered up to appease the deity, to maintain the facade of prosperity, filled you with a mix of fear and defiance.

—--

Night fell, casting a cloak of shadows over the altar as the ritual neared its zenith.

"Let us offer our gratitude to the Y/L/N family for their generous contribution!" The priest's voice boomed, the family members standing by, basking in the adulation of others, oblivious to their true nature.

Their affections lay with money and their son, not with you.

"Their daughter shall shape our destiny!" The air was heavy with incense and the eerie chants of the priests, their ominous words sending shivers down your spine.

You knelt at the heart of the altar, adorned in lavish garments but devoid of any semblance of joy. Seeing them pretending vaguely, a surge of resentment welled up in your heart. The unvented anger transformed into tears, cascading down your cheeks and saturating the eye mask, yet no one took notice. Memories of the past raced through your mind as the priest drew near; jealousy, anger, sadness, all negative emotions flooding your thoughts.

You felt yourself unraveling, the echoing laughter pushing you towards the brink of collapse. Desperate to block out the sound, you reached for your ears, only to find yourself restrained; yearning to break free, yet bound by invisible chains.

The priest's approach felt ominous, a foreboding presence signaling impending doom. You shook your head in denial, attempting to resist his advance, but the relentless footsteps shattered your resolve. You didn't want to die, there were still so many unfinished tasks; you didn't want them to prosper, to lead a life of luxury… What you craved was vengeance.

“Offer yourself to our God!”

“No! I refuse to meet my end like this!”

“There is no escape, child! Your destiny is to be a sacrifice! It is your duty!”

“NO! Even in death, I will not let you win! I will not make it easy for you!”

“What nonsense is this?!” “Just end her life!!”

With a swift motion, he thrust a sword towards your heart, invoking the deity's power.

But instead of searing pain and spilled blood, darkness enveloped you, wrapping you in an eerie silence.

Panting heavily, you realized you were not hurt. Unable to see anything as you were blindfolded, you could only follow the sound.

"Let me see this year's sacrifice," a voice echoed through the church, accompanied by the slow approach of footsteps, causing your heartbeat to speed up because of nervousness.

As the figure drew closer, Seonghwa knelt before you, lifting your chin to gaze upon your graceful form draped in black sheer fabric.

"It seems good, huh? But your resentment is the strongest among all the sacrifices I've seen," he murmured, his thumb tracing your lower lip and cheek, sending a shiver down your spine. Nervously, you swallowed saliva and made a barely audible sound.

“Don’t want to be mine? That’s nice, you know?” His gaze shifted from your trembling throat to your chest, where the metal bra accentuated your ample bosom. The sheer fabric did little to quell his burning desire. He leaned in and planted a kiss on your chest. This sudden act made you recoil slightly, unable to find a word.

“You hate me, huh?” Again, you swallowed nervously but did not dare to answer. Hate him? Maybe? Were it not for his presence, you would not have been chosen as a sacrifice. But, it was your so-called family members who did evil things. This was a simple question but you didn’t know how to answer it.

"Speak, girl. I hate it when others don’t answer my questions," he demanded in displeasure. Although you couldn’t see his face, you could still feel his anger.

"I… I apologize," you stuttered, fear gripping you and preventing you from relaxing. Seonghwa smirked, relishing in the feeling of others obeying his commands.

“So, what’s your answer?”

“I…hate…I hate them all.” He raised his eyebrows and said provocatively, “So, it's because of me that you hate them. Am I right, girl?”

“I…” You found yourself momentarily struck silent by fear. But upon reflection, you realized there was nothing left to fear - you were already deceased, after all.

“Yes.” After a deep breath, you found the courage to speak. “If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have been chosen as a sacrifice, and I wouldn't be… disliked.” Your unexpected response caught him off guard, as he had never encountered someone who didn't desire his attention.

Determined to sway your opinion, he sought to engage you further.

“What is your name, my dear?” His tone softened, coaxing you to reveal yourself. Surprisingly, he did not react with anger.

“Y…Y/N…”

"Y/N, a beautiful name," His voice, deep and alluring, stirred something within you.

"Relax, Y/N. Why the tension? Tonight, we shall indulge in my desires. But fret not, for it promises to be an enjoyable experience.”

His touch traced a path from your face, down your neck, shoulders, and arms. The cool sensation sent shivers down your spine, igniting a tingling warmth that spread through your body, eliciting a soft, hesitant sigh from you.

“And I’ll change your mind."

His gaze fell upon the handcuffs on your wrists, your delicate wrists trembling slightly, arousing his perverse desire for dominance. He whispered in your ear, his voice extremely seductive, licking and gently biting your earlobe, teasingly grazing your ear.

"Umm…" A shiver ran down your spine as an electric current coursed through your ear, and your body temperature raised, causing your cheeks to redden.

"You're really sensitive, aren't you?" He licked the back of your ear, the sound of his tongue against your skin stimulating your nerves, making you tremble; his lips gradually moved downwards, pecking at your collarbone, sucking on your fine skin, leaving faint red marks.

“Did you touch yourself before?”

“What is touch…?” Smiling, he held your hand while trailing down to your lower core, and slowly got closer to your clit.

“It feels good.” He guided your hand, his slender fingers stroking your clit with a gentle touch, slowly sunk down to your lower core. As both of your fingers entered your cunt, a tingling sensation spread through your body, eliciting soft moans of pleasure. Seonghwa's satisfied smile encouraged you to explore further.

"Come, fuck with me," he whispered. You felt a mix of excitement and curiosity as you pleasured yourself under his guidance. The sensation of his touch, combined with your own exploration, sent waves of pleasure through you.

His hands enveloped your back, the warmth of his touch seeping through the fabric, soothing your nerves. Your breath quickened, heart racing as he increased the intensity of his movements, his lips trailing kisses along your neck, drawing out soft whimpers of delight.

His velvety lips teased and tantalized your skin, his breath hot against your ear, igniting a fire within you. Your body instinctively responded, allowing him closer as his hands held you close, pulling you into his embrace.

A soft moan escaped your lips, spurring him on, his desire growing with each sound you made. Your body responded eagerly, the climax building within you, your walls tightening around your fingers, urging them deeper. It was so weird but exciting. You could tell there was something inside your body, as you touched it, a numb feeling surged throughout your body.

"You're doing so well, my dear," he praised, a blush rising to your cheeks at his words. “I’m gonna…oh gosh!” You shut your eyes tightly as the climax was about to take over you. “Cum, girl.”With a final, shy moan, you reached your peak, the pleasure overwhelming you.

"Such a good girl," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your cheek before withdrawing. A pang of emptiness lingered, but his question brought a spark of anticipation to your eyes.

"More?" he asked, lifting your chin and drawing you closer. With a nod and a shy smile, you whispered, "Yes, I want more."

"Good. All I can think about is how good you're going to taste." Before the words even finished, he pounced on you, the cold touch of the ground sending shivers down your spine. He reached for the buttons on the back of your neck, undressing you from the waist up, leaving your chest fully exposed.

He buried his head between your breasts, continuously sucking and licking. You keenly felt his tongue swirling around your nipple, causing a tingling sensation. The wet and warm feeling enveloped your left breast, while his hand gently squeezed and massaged your right breast, occasionally flicking the nipple with his thumb.

"Ah…" The stimulation on your body made you shyly moan, igniting his desire even more. He lifted his head and kissed your collarbone, sucking hard enough to leave marks on the skin that were no longer pale red but slightly darkened purple.

He admired his love bites while appreciating your beauty. "You're so fucking gorgeous." He growled like a wild animal against your chest, now it's time to unleash the beast inside him.

"Put your hands on your head. You can't put them down without my permission, understand?" You obeyed his command and raised your hands.

He removed all his clothing, kneeling completely naked in front of you, and pressed against your outer lips, occasionally grazing your hole. His erect member has been uncomfortably constrained by his tight pants for far too long.

“It may hurt a little bit. But it's gonna be fun, don’t worry.” He entered your cunt in one go, making you throw your head against the ground. His huge cock was much different from his fingers and tongue─that’s harder, longer, and thicker.

The intense pain was almost unbearable, as if your lower core was being torn apart. Blood flowed, wetting his thick cock and even dripping onto the floor. Your body burned like a flame, sweating all over your body.

"You're bleeding, babe. Does it hurt?" His voice was soft as silk, gently tugging at your heartstrings in a way no one ever had before.

"Yes… it hurts," you managed to reply through the discomfort. "Don't cry, just try to relax." He leaned in to place a tender kiss on your forehead, his simple gesture of concern bringing tears to your eyes. Despite the pain in your lower body, it felt like nothing compared to the past beatings you had endured.

He kissed you gently, offering comfort without any aggression. There were no bites, no invasion of tongues, just sweet and tender kisses. Your lips met softly, filled with warmth and affection. The pain slowly faded, replaced by a growing desire. You wanted him to move, to pleasure you with his gentleness.

"Please, my god," you whispered between kisses, causing him to pause. "I think I'm okay now."

"Tell me what you want, darling. Just say it," he encouraged.

"I want you to move, please," you requested, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks.

"Don't hate me now?" He chuckled at your reaction, finding you utterly adorable.

"Kidding," Before his lips met yours again and he began to thrust rhythmically. The pace was perfect, neither too rough nor too gentle.

"Ah, my god!" Every thrust hit the right spot inside you, eliciting a cascade of sensations. Your body responded by producing more moisture, adjusting to the feeling of his cock sliding in and out.

The warmth and wetness enveloped his cock, driving him to the edge of sanity. Combined with the sucking sensation, it was impossible for him to hold back.

"You're so tight, I can't handle fucking it." He wanted to fuck you as hard as possible, but not now. He needed you adjust first. He could see your past─what you have endured, how your so-called family treated you. Horrible memories invaded his mind, and although he wasn't frightened by them, he felt pity for you.

“oh my pretty.” He moved faster but not rough at all. His wet chest pressed against yours, letting you feel his strong muscles and physique. Oh shit, you loved this feeling so much, you felt so tiny under his frame. The pain you felt before has already disappeared far away and replaced by endless pleasure and lust.

Settling your legs around his waist, he entered deeper and you bent even more. He first pulled out a bit, and then pushed in fully, repeated over and over again. Every time he thrust deep, he couldn’t help but whimper as he saw how your chest shook from his movement.

“Moan for me, my doll.” You obeyed his words and moaned loudly, accompanied by the sound of skin slapping, forming a beautiful melody in Seonghwa 's ears. He pulled you up, making you sit on his thighs. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he thrust upward that made you throw your head.

Following his movement, you bounced in a slow pace. He trailed down to cup your ass cheeks to pull you closer. Your lips met again as he leaned down to kiss you. This kiss was like the breeze blowing through the petals, full of tenderness, giving you a numbness.

Seonghwa placed you back to the ground gently before turning you over. "Want me to be rough?" "Be rough with me, my god." In the momentary withdrawal, he turned you over directly, and once again entered from behind. His hands pressed against your waist, controlling the movement of your body back and forth, causing your breasts to violently shake.

“Ahh, please, keep going.” “Of course, my little whore.” He cupped your breast while squeezing your nipples and showered your nape with kisses. The scent of you fills his nostrils, very tempting.

He gradually lost control and snapped into your ass with only raw emotion. Sat up straight again to push himself even closer to your limit. He could feel his cock twitch every time he went deep and you moaned loudly. He was going to cum but he wanted you cum first. He needed it, needed to feel your warmth once again wrapped up his cock.

“Baby, I want you cum, cum for my cock. I need you.” His words and thrusting made you dizzy. Everything was overwhelming. You totally lost in the pleasure as he kept sinking down to hit your g spot.

“Hmmmm…Ahhh…please.” There was one more step to reach your climax. Seonghwa knew it as he slid down his hand to your clit. He continued to thrust while stroking, pushing you to climax.

The stimulation all over your body was like an electric current, which not only sent shivers down your spine, but also made the flame of desire in your body bursted out.

You found that the more you press down on your waist, the deeper his cock could go. Desire had already replaced your thinking. You lowered your body as much as possible and spread your legs so that you could reach climax as his arching member deep inside you.

“Your pussy feels amazing, you do that so well. Cum for me, babe.” ”Ah~my god~” You squirted with a high-pitched groan and Seonghwa came after a few thrusts. Your legs were shaking like a leaf and knees went weak. You fell to the ground, out of breath, your body having been drained of all your strength by lust.

“Are you okay, babe?” Seonghwa gently turned you over and took off your blindfold. The sudden light hitting your eyes made you very uncomfortable, but you quickly adapted. A handsome face came into view, and you could finally see Seonghwa 's appearance.

“I’m fine, my god.” He brushed your hair, gave you a loving smile and slowly picked you up before withdrawing from you. His hand trailed down to caress your lower core, full of his seeds. “Not hurt at all, hm?” You shook your head and replied to him with a smile. He chuckled at your smile, pulling you closer to rest on his shoulder.

“You’re mine now. No one will hurt you.” Seonghwa patted your head and pecked on it, making your tears welled up your eyes. Oh, maybe he was truly a god that loved his people…no, or I should say, his sacrifice. Who tells him love having sex so much?

But there was one thing he couldn't lie about. He was a little heartbroken when he found out about your past. At the very beginning, he thought that was only an illusion but his feelings toward you gradually changed. You seemed to be different from those girls he met.

-----

“Darling?" He called you darling every time because he found you liked this name.

“Yes, hwa?" You turned around to give him a peck.

“I killed all the people you hated. Did I do well?” He wrapped his arms around your waist while inhaling your scent. Your eyes widened a bit as you never expected that he would slaughter the whole village.

"You killed them...?"

"Yes, darling. I can do anything you want because I am your God."

[elryuse]

Obliviation Pt. 3

Wonyoung X Male Reader X Winter

Tags : Mystery, Romance, Yandere, Angsty, Dark Romance, Psychological Horror, Gut Wrenching, Love Words : 6.000 Words

A Lovely Commision Work For MY Friend @Pizza_anon from Ko-fi and A Continuation Of Obliviation Pt. 2. I Hope You Guys Enjoyed It.

The café was quiet, the hum of soft jazz music filling the space as you sat at the corner table, your hands trembling around the cup of coffee you hadn’t even sipped. Your heart raced, each second feeling like an eternity as you waited for her. What if she doesn’t come? The thought gnawed at you, but deep down, you knew she would. You could feel it.

And then, she walked in.

Her silver hair caught the dim light of the café, framing her delicate features like a halo. Winter’s eyes scanned the room, and when they landed on you, her lips curved into that soft, enigmatic smile you’d seen in your dreams. She looked exactly as you remembered her—though you weren’t sure if those were memories or just fragments of your imagination.

She approached your table, her movements graceful, her presence calming yet electric. You stood up instinctively, the air between you charged with something unspoken.

“You came,” she said, her voice low, almost a whisper. It was warm, familiar, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

“I had to,” you replied, your voice trembling. You gestured to the seat across from you, and she nodded, sitting down gracefully. Her eyes never left yours, and you felt like she could see straight through you, into the confusion and fear that had been consuming you.

Winter reached into her bag, pulling out a small, intricately designed box. She placed it on the table between you, her fingers lingering on the lid for a moment before she opened it. Inside were a set of old photographs, each one carefully preserved. Her eyes were filled with determination, but there was also a flicker of vulnerability as she began to speak.

“I know you don’t remember,” she started, her voice steady but soft. “But I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long. I need you to trust me, even if it’s just for a little while.”

You nodded, your throat dry. You couldn’t look away from the photographs as she began to lay them out on the table. The first one caught your breath—it was a picture of the two of you, standing side by side, laughing. You looked happy, carefree, and so did she. It was a version of you that felt foreign, yet somehow familiar.

“This was our last day in college,” Winter said, her fingers brushing the edge of the photo. “We were inseparable back then. Everyone knew we were meant to be together.”

Your heart pounded harder as she laid out another photo. This one was more intimate—a picture of the two of you holding each other close, your faces lit up with joy. It felt like looking at strangers, but there was something about the way she was looking at you in the photo that made your chest ache.

And then, she placed the third photo down. It was your wedding day.

You felt like the air had been knocked out of your lungs. There you were, in a suit, standing at the altar with a wide smile on your face. And there she was, in a stunning white dress, her silver hair cascading down her shoulders as she looked at you with tears in her eyes.

“We were married,” Winter said, her voice trembling now. “We were so happy. You were everything to me.”

Your hands shook as you reached out to touch the photo, your fingers brushing over the image of the two of you. You were married. The words echoed in your mind, but you couldn’t fully grasp them. It felt like a dream, like someone else’s life.

“I don’t understand,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “Why don’t I remember this? Why does Wonyoung—”

Winter’s eyes filled with tears, and she reached across the table, taking your hands in hers. Her touch was warm, grounding, and it sent a jolt of emotion through you.

“Wonyoung took you from me,” she said, her voice steady despite the tears streaming down her face. “She’s the reason you don’t remember. She changed everything. She took away our life together, and I’ve been trying to get you back ever since.”

Your mind spun, the weight of her words crashing down on you. Wonyoung took you from me. The words echoed in your head, but you couldn’t make sense of them. How could she? Why would she?

“I don’t… I don’t know what to believe,” you choked out, your voice barely above a whisper.

Winter squeezed your hands tighter, her eyes pleading with you. “I know this is a lot to take in, but I need you to trust me. We were happy, truly happy. And I want that again. I want you again.”

You felt tears streaming down your face, and you didn’t try to stop them. Winter’s hands were warm in yours, and for a moment, it felt like she was the only thing keeping you anchored.

“What do I do?” you asked, your voice breaking. “I don’t know who I am anymore.”

Winter leaned in closer, her eyes never leaving yours. “You’re the man I love. The man I’ve always loved. And I’m not going to let her take you away from me again.”

Her words were like a lifeline, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt a spark of hope. But it was quickly overshadowed by fear. Wonyoung wasn’t going to let you go. You knew that.

“Wonyoung… she’s not going to let me leave,” you said, your voice trembling.

Winter’s expression hardened, her determination shining through. “She doesn’t get to decide that. You’re not hers. You never were.”

You sat there, the weight of everything pressing down on you. The photographs, the memories, the truth—it was all too much. But Winter’s hands in yours, her unwavering gaze, it gave you strength.

“I need you to trust me,” Winter said softly. “We’ll figure this out together. But we need to be careful. Wonyoung… she’s dangerous.”

You nodded, your mind racing. Wonyoung’s possessive grip, her anger, the way she’d reacted when she found out you’d spoken to Winter—it all made sense now.

“I don’t know what to do,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Winter leaned in closer, her voice low but steady. “For now, just remember this: you’re not alone. I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

You looked into her eyes, and for the first time, you felt like you had a choice. A real choice. But the fear of what Wonyoung might do lingered in the back of your mind, a dark shadow that refused to leave.

Winter’s hands tightened around yours, her gaze unwavering. “We’ll get through this. Together.”

You felt a surge of emotion, tears streaming down your face as you squeezed her hands back. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

Winter shook her head, her eyes filled with determination. “You have nothing to apologize for. This isn’t your fault. We’ll fix this. I promise.”

But before you could respond, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You froze, your heart racing as you pulled it out. It was a text from Wonyoung.

Where are you?

Your blood ran cold, and Winter’s expression darkened as she saw the name on the screen.

“Don’t answer,” she said firmly.

You hesitated, your finger hovering over the screen. “If I don’t… she’ll come looking for me.”

Winter’s grip on your hands tightened, her eyes filled with resolve. “Then let her come. She doesn’t own you.”

But the fear in your chest was overwhelming. You knew what Wonyoung was capable of. And you didn’t know if you were ready to face her.

“We’ll handle this together,” Winter said softly, her voice steady. “But you have to trust me.”

You looked into her eyes, the determination in her gaze giving you strength. But the fear of what Wonyoung might do lingered, a dark shadow that refused to leave.

The phone buzzed again, and you looked down at the screen.

You better answer me, or you’re going to regret it.

Your heart pounded, and you felt your resolve wavering. Winter’s hands tightened around yours, her gaze unwavering.

“Don’t let her control you,” she said firmly.

You took a deep breath, your mind racing. You didn’t know what to do. But one thing was certain: you couldn’t keep living in the dark.

“We’ll figure this out,” Winter said, her voice steady. “But we need to be careful.”

You nodded, your hands trembling as you looked into her eyes. “I just… I need to know the truth.”

Winter’s expression softened, and she gave you a small, reassuring smile. “You’ll get it. I promise.”

But as you sat there, the weight of everything pressing down on you, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the storm was about to break. And you didn’t know if you were ready to face it.

Winter’s eyes darkened with a flicker of something primal, something that made your breath hitch in your chest. She leaned in closer, her silver hair brushing against your cheek as her lips hovered just inches from your ear. “I want to show you how much I’ve missed you,” she whispered, her voice low and sultry, sending a shiver down your spine. Her hand slipped under the table, her fingers grazing the growing bulge in your pants. You couldn’t help but feel a surge of heat, a mix of confusion and desire swirling inside you.

“Let’s find a place where we can be alone,” she murmured, her breath hot against your skin. Before you could respond, she stood up, her hand firmly grasping yours, pulling you to your feet. You followed her, your heart pounding in your chest as she led you to a secluded corner of the café, hidden from prying eyes. The air between you felt charged, electric, as she pushed you gently against the wall, her body pressing into yours.

Her fingers deftly unzipped your pants, and you gasped as her hand wrapped around your cock, her touch sending jolts of pleasure through your body. “I need you inside me,” she whispered, her voice trembling with desire. Her lips found yours, and the kiss was deep, urgent, as if she was trying to reclaim something that had been stolen from her. Her other hand moved to your chest, fingers digging into your shirt, pulling you closer.

It felt sudden, overwhelming, but also right. Like a part of you had been missing, and now it was coming back into place. You couldn’t think, couldn’t form coherent thoughts as her hand moved up and down your length, her thumb brushing against the sensitive tip. You groaned into her mouth, your hands gripping her waist, pulling her even closer. “Winter,” you breathed, her name feeling familiar and foreign all at once.

She broke the kiss, her eyes locking onto yours, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of sadness, a hint of something deeper beneath the surface. But then it was gone, replaced by that same intense desire. “Come with me,” she said, her voice firm, leaving no room for argument. She quickly zipped your pants back up, taking your hand again, and led you out of the café.

The walk to her apartment was a blur, your mind racing with a mix of emotions. You were still trying to process everything Winter had shown you—the photographs, the memories that felt just out of reach. But there was also this undeniable pull towards her, something that felt real, even if you couldn’t fully understand it.

When you arrived at her apartment, she opened the door to reveal a cozy, well-decorated space. Three women were sitting in the living room, their eyes immediately snapping to you as you walked in. “This is Karina, Giselle, and Ningning,” Winter introduced them, her voice calm but with an undercurrent of tension. They nodded at you, their expressions a mix of curiosity and concern, but didn’t say much.

Winter didn’t linger in the living room, instead leading you down the hallway to her bedroom. The moment the door closed behind you, she turned to you, her hands reaching for your face. “I need you to remember,” she said, her voice soft but urgent. She walked over to her desk, opening a drawer and pulling out a small photo album.

She handed it to you, and as you flipped through the pages, your heart sank. The pictures were familiar, but wrong. Every image of you was blurred, your face distorted, as if someone had tried to erase you from the memories. “What… what is this?” you asked, your voice shaking.

Winter’s eyes welled with tears, but she quickly wiped them away, forcing a small smile. “This is what she did to you. To us. Wonyoung made sure you couldn’t remember me, couldn’t remember us. But I’m here to fix that.”

You stared at the photos, your head throbbing with the weight of it all. “I… I don’t know what to believe anymore,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Winter stepped closer, her hand gently touching your arm. “You don’t have to figure it all out right now. Just… trust me. Trust what you feel.”

Her words hung in the air, and for a moment, you felt a flicker of clarity. You did trust her, even if you couldn’t fully remember why. Without thinking, you reached for her, pulling her into a kiss. Her lips were soft, warm, and it felt like coming home.

Her hands moved to your shirt, unbuttoning it with practiced ease. She pushed it off your shoulders, her fingers trailing down your chest, sending shivers through your body. “I’ve missed this,” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly. “I’ve missed you.”

You kissed her again, deeper this time, your hands sliding down her back to the hem of her dress. You pulled it up, and she stepped out of it, standing before you in nothing but her underwear. She was breathtaking, her body perfectly toned, her skin smooth and glowing in the dim light of the room.

You reached for her, but she gently pushed your hands away, a small smile playing on her lips. “Let me,” she said, her voice low and sultry. She knelt before you, her hands moving to your pants. She unbuttoned them, slowly pulling them down, her eyes never leaving yours.

The moment her lips wrapped around you, you let out a groan, your hands tangling in her silver hair. She moved with a practiced ease, her tongue swirling around you, sending waves of pleasure through your body. “Winter,” you moaned, your voice trembling.

She pulled back, looking up at you with those dark, intense eyes. “I want you to remember this,” she said, her voice firm. “Remember me.”

She stood up, pulling you towards the bed. You fell onto the soft mattress, and she climbed on top of you, her body pressing into yours. She reached for your cock, guiding it into her, and you both let out a gasp as she sank down onto you.

She began to move, her hips rocking against yours, her hands braced on your chest. Her eyes were locked onto yours, and for a moment, it felt like time stopped. “This is us,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “This is real.”

You didn’t know what to say, so you didn’t say anything. Instead, you pulled her down for a kiss, your hands gripping her hips as you thrust up into her. The room was filled with the sounds of your bodies moving together, your moans and gasps mixing with the rhythmic creaking of the bed.

Winter’s pace quickened, her breathing becoming more ragged. “I’m close,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Don’t stop.”

You didn’t, your grip on her hips tightening as you thrust deeper into her. She cried out, her body tensing as she came, her nails digging into your chest. You followed soon after, your release hitting you like a wave, leaving you breathless and spent.

She collapsed onto your chest, her breathing still heavy, her fingers tracing patterns on your skin. “Do you remember now?” she asked, her voice soft, almost hopeful.

You didn’t answer, your mind still spinning with everything that had just happened. You wanted to say yes, but the truth was, you didn’t know. You felt something, but it was still just out of reach, like a memory you couldn’t quite grasp.

Winter didn’t push you, instead settling into your arms, her head resting on your chest. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

But as you lay there, her warmth pressed against you, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the storm was far from over. And you didn’t know if you were ready for what was coming next.

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand, and Winter’s body tensed against you. “Who is it?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

You reached for it, your heart sinking as you saw the name on the screen. Wonyoung.

The text was short, but the words sent a chill down your spine. ”I know where you are. Come home. Now.”

Winter’s eyes met yours, and for the first time, you saw fear in them. “What are you going to do?” she asked, her voice trembling.

The room felt heavy with tension as you stared at your phone, Wonyoung’s text glaring back at you. ”I know where you are. Come home. Now.” Your thumb hovered over the screen, indecision clawing at you. Winter’s breath hitched beside you, her body still warm and close from the intimacy you’d just shared.

“What are you going to do?” she asked again, her voice softer now, laced with fear.

You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you typed out a quick reply to Wonyoung. ”I need more time. I’ll be home soon.” You hit send before you could second-guess yourself, then turned to Winter. Her silver hair framed her face, her eyes searching yours for something—anything—that might give her hope.

“I want to remember everything,” you said, your voice firm, almost harsh with determination. “Show me how you want me.”

Winter’s lips curved into a slow, sultry smile, and for a moment, the fear in her eyes seemed to dissipate. She shifted on the bed, kneeling gracefully, her hands gripping the headboard as she arched her back. The sight of her like this—submissive yet commanding—sent a jolt of desire through you.

“Take me from behind,” she whispered, her voice low and dripping with need. “Make me yours again.”

You moved closer, your hands grazing her hips, but before you could act, she stopped you with a sharp intake of breath. “Wait.” She turned her head to look at you, her expression suddenly serious. “First, I need to show you something.”

Curiosity burned in your chest as Winter stood, her naked body gliding across the room with an effortless grace. She motioned for you to follow, and you did, your heart pounding with anticipation. She led you to a door you hadn’t noticed before, hidden behind a large bookshelf. With a soft click, she opened it, revealing a dimly lit room.

The air inside was cool, almost too cold, and the walls were lined with shelves filled with meticulously organized items. Winter stepped inside, her fingers trailing along the edge of a shelf before she reached for a small, ornate box. She turned to face you, her eyes locking onto yours as she held it out.

“This,” she said, her voice trembling slightly, “is the truth.”

You took the box from her, your hands unsteady as you opened it. Inside was a collection of photographs, letters, and small trinkets. The first photo you pulled out was of you and Winter, standing in front of a church, your arms wrapped around each other, beaming with happiness. The next was a wedding ring—your wedding ring.

Memories began to flood back, fragmented but undeniable. The way Winter’s laughter used to fill your days, the way her touch felt like home, the vows you’d exchanged. Your heart ached with the weight of it all.

“We were married,” Winter said, her voice breaking. “You promised me forever. And then… she took you from me.”

You looked up at her, your vision blurring with unshed tears. “Wonyoung? She… she did this?”

Winter nodded, her own tears spilling over. “She orchestrated everything. The crash, the amnesia, even the lies she fed you. She wanted to erase me from your life completely.”

Your hands clenched around the box, anger bubbling up inside you. “Why? Why would she do this?”

“Because she’s obsessed with you,” Winter replied, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and fury. “She’s always been obsessed with you. Even when we were together, she couldn’t stand to see you happy with anyone but her.”

You felt like the ground was crumbling beneath you. Everything you thought you knew about your life was a lie. The woman you’d believed to be your wife, the one who’d claimed to love and cherish you, had stolen everything from you—your past, your memories, your happiness.

Winter stepped closer, her hands reaching up to cup your face. Her touch was tender, grounding you in the chaos of your thoughts. “You’re not hers,” she said firmly. “You’re mine. You always have been. And I’m not going to let her take you away from me again.”

Her words stirred something deep within you, a fire that had been smothered for too long. You pulled her into a fierce kiss, your hands gripping her waist as if you could fuse her to you. Winter moaned against your lips, her body pressing into yours with an urgency that mirrored your own.

But just as the heat between you began to build, a loud knock echoed through the apartment. You both froze, your eyes darting toward the door.

“Open up! I know you’re in there!” Wonyoung’s voice, sharp and commanding, sliced through the silence.

Winter’s eyes widened in panic, and she grabbed your arm, pulling you further into the hidden room. “You can’t let her find us,” she whispered, her voice frantic. “She’ll never let you go if she does.”

You nodded, your heart racing as the knocking grew louder, more insistent. “What do we do?” you asked, your voice barely audible.

Winter moved quickly, grabbing a small key from the shelf and unlocking a hidden compartment in the wall. She pulled out a USB drive and pressed it into your hand. “Take this. It’s everything—evidence of what she’s done. If we can get it to the right people, we can stop her.”

You clenched the drive in your fist, the weight of it heavy in your palm. “And then what?”

Winter’s eyes met yours, filled with determination. “Then we take our lives back.”

The knocking at the door was thunderous now, each strike reverberating through the apartment like a gunshot. Winter’s hands trembled as she smoothed her silver hair, her eyes darting to the door and then back to you. “Stay close to me,” she whispered, her voice firm despite the fear flickering in her gaze. You nodded, clutching the USB drive in your pocket like a lifeline.

The door shuddered under the force of another blow, and then, with a sickening crack, it finally gave way. Wonyoung stood in the doorway, her usually pristine appearance disheveled—her hair slightly undone, her lips curled into a predatory smile. Behind her stood Giselle, Karina, and Ningning, their expressions a mix of frustration and regret as they exchanged glances. They hadn’t been able to stop her.

“Wonyoung,” Winter said, her tone icy as she stepped forward, her chin held high. She didn’t flinch, though you could feel the tension radiating from her.

“Minjeong,” Wonyoung replied, her voice dripping with venom as she stepped into the apartment, her heels clicking sharply against the hardwood floor. “What a cozy little reunion we’re having here.”

Your heart pounded as your gaze flicked between the two women, the air thick with unspoken hostility. Wonyoung’s eyes landed on you, and for a moment, her expression softened—but only for a moment. “Darling,” she purred, taking a step toward you, “what are you doing here? I’ve been so worried.”

Before you could answer, Winter stepped in front of you, blocking Wonyoung’s path. “He’s not your darling,” she snapped, her voice cutting through the room like a blade. “You stole him from me. You took his memories. You took everything.”

Wonyoung’s laugh was low, almost mocking, as she tilted her head. “Oh, please,” she said, her tone deceptively sweet. “Do you really think he’d want to be with you? After everything you’ve done? You cheated on him, Minjeong. You lied to him. You even got pregnant with someone else’s child. Tell me, does he remember that?”

Winter flinched, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. “That’s a lie,” she hissed, her voice trembling with anger. “You’re the one who lied. You’re the one who manipulated him. You’re the one who ruined his life—and mine.”

Wonyoung’s smile didn’t falter. She leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper that was somehow more dangerous than a shout. “And yet here I am, the one he’s been with all these years. The one he chose.”

“He didn’t choose you!” Winter’s voice broke, tears welling in her eyes as she turned to you. “Tell her. Tell her the truth.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but Wonyoung cut you off, her hand snapping out to grip your arm. “Don’t,” she said, her voice cold. “You don’t know what you’re saying. She’s just trying to manipulate you, just like she always has.”

“Let him go,” Winter demanded, stepping closer. “He’s not yours to control anymore.”

Wonyoung’s grip tightened, her nails digging into your skin. “Oh, but he is,” she said, her voice low and dangerous. “He’s mine. And I’m not letting him go. Not now. Not ever.”

The room was thick with tension, the air almost too heavy to breathe. Giselle, Karina, and Ningning shifted uncomfortably, their eyes darting between the three of you. You could feel the weight of the USB drive in your pocket, the evidence of Wonyoung’s crimes burning against your skin.

“Wonyoung,” you said, your voice steady despite the chaos around you, “this has to stop. You can’t keep doing this. You can’t keep lying to me.”

Her eyes widened for a moment, and then she laughed—a sharp, bitter sound that sent a chill down your spine. “Oh, darling,” she said, her voice softening as she reached up to cup your cheek, “you don’t know what you’re saying. You’re confused. It’s okay. I’ll take care of you.”

Before you could pull away, she leaned in, her lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was both possessive and desperate. You froze, your mind racing as her grip on your arm tightened.

“Let him go!” Winter’s voice was a scream now, and she lunged forward, shoving Wonyoung away from you.

Wonyoung stumbled back, her eyes blazing with fury. “You’ll regret that,” she hissed, her voice low and dangerous. “Both of you.”

Winter stepped in front of you, her hands clenched into fists as she faced Wonyoung. “You’re not taking him again,” she said, her voice firm. “Not this time.”

Wonyoung’s smile was cold, almost predatory, as she took a step forward. “We’ll see about that,” she said, her voice dripping with menace. “We’ll see.”

The room was silent for a moment, the tension so thick you could almost taste it. And then, without warning, Wonyoung lunged—not at Winter, but at you. Her hands grabbed your shirt, pulling you close as her lips crashed against yours in a bruising kiss. It wasn’t tender—it was desperate, possessive, as if she could erase everything with that one act.

Winter’s hands were on Wonyoung’s shoulders in an instant, pulling her back with a force that surprised you both. “Get off him!” she yelled, her voice raw with emotion.

Wonyoung stumbled back, her chest heaving as she glared at Winter. “You’ll pay for that,” she said, her voice low and dangerous. “You’ll both pay.”

You stood frozen, your heart racing as the two women faced off, the air between them crackling with barely contained rage. The USB drive felt like it was burning a hole in your pocket, a reminder of the truth you were holding onto—and the danger that was closing in.

“It’s over, Wonyoung,” Winter said, her voice breaking as she stepped closer to you. “You can’t keep doing this. You can’t keep hurting him.”

Wonyoung’s smile was cold, almost cruel, as she took a step forward. “We’ll see,” she said, her voice low and dangerous. “We’ll see.”

The room was silent for a moment, the tension so thick you could almost taste it. And then, without warning, Wonyoung lunged—not at Winter, but at you.

“Tell me,” she whispered, her lips brushing against your ear as she pressed herself against you. “Do you remember? Do you remember me?”

Winter’s hands were on Wonyoung’s shoulders in an instant, pulling her back with a force that surprised you both. “Get off him!” she yelled, her voice raw with emotion.

Wonyoung stumbled back, her chest heaving as she glared at Winter. “You’ll pay for that,” she said, her voice low and dangerous. “You’ll both pay.”

You stood frozen, your heart racing as the two women faced off, the air between them crackling with barely contained rage. The USB drive felt like it was burning a hole in your pocket, a reminder of the truth you were holding onto—and the danger that was closing in.

“It’s over, Wonyoung,” Winter said, her voice breaking as she stepped closer to you. “You can’t keep doing this. You can’t keep hurting him.”

Wonyoung’s smile was cold, almost cruel, as she took a step forward. “We’ll see,” she said, her voice low and dangerous. “We’ll see.”

And then, with a suddenness that left you breathless, Wonyoung turned and walked away, her heels clicking sharply against the floor. The door slammed shut behind her, leaving the room in stunned silence.

Winter turned to you, her eyes filled with tears. “It’s not over,” she whispered. “She’s not going to stop.”

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. “I know,” you said softly. “But we’re not going to let her win.”

Winter’s hands trembled as she reached for yours, her fingers intertwining with yours. “We’ll fight her,” she said, her voice firm despite the tears in her eyes. “We’ll fight her together.”

You nodded, the weight of the USB drive in your pocket a reminder of the battle that was still to come. Wonyoung wasn’t going to give up without a fight—and neither were you.

The room was silent for a moment, the tension still lingering in the air. And then, without warning, Winter leaned in, her lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was both tender and desperate. It was a reminder of what you were fighting for—of the life you had lost, and the life you were determined to get back.

You kissed her back, your hands tangling in her silver hair as the world around you faded away. For a moment, it was just the two of you, lost in the warmth of each other’s touch.

But the moment was fleeting. The sound of a phone buzzing shattered the silence, pulling you both back to reality. You pulled away, your hearts pounding as you reached for your phone.

The screen lit up with a single message from Wonyoung: “You can’t run forever.”

The study was dimly lit, the soft glow of a desk lamp casting long shadows across the room. Winter’s silver hair shimmered as she sat down at the sleek, modern desk, her fingers already poised over the laptop’s keyboard. You stood behind her, your heart racing as you watched her work. The air was thick with urgency, the weight of Wonyoung’s threat hanging over you like a storm cloud.

“We need to find out what Wonyoung is planning,” Winter said, her voice low and intense. Her fingers flew across the keys, the soft clicks of the keyboard punctuating her words. “She won’t stop until she has you back. We need to stay one step ahead of her.” She paused, her eyes darting to you, filled with determination and something else—fear. “We need to be smarter, faster, and more ruthless. She’s already one step ahead of us.”

You swallowed hard, the reality of the situation sinking in. Wonyoung wasn’t just a woman scorned; she was a CEO with resources, connections, and a burning desire to keep you under her control. The thought sent a chill down your spine.

Winter reached into her pocket and pulled out a USB drive, holding it up for you to see. “I have a friend who can hack into her systems,” she explained, her voice steady despite the tension in the room. “But we need to be careful. Wonyoung’s not stupid. She’ll have safeguards in place.”

You nodded, your mind racing. The USB drive felt like a lifeline, a chance to finally uncover the truth and take control of your life again. But it was also a risk—one wrong move, and Wonyoung could crush you both.

Winter plugged the USB drive into the laptop, her eyes narrowing as she focused on the screen. The room was silent except for the hum of the computer and the sound of your breathing. You leaned closer, your hand resting on the back of her chair, as she began to navigate through a series of files and folders.

“This is it,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. She clicked on a folder labeled Private, and a cascade of documents appeared on the screen. Your heart skipped a beat as you saw your name appear alongside Wonyoung’s in several of the file names.

“What is all this?” you asked, your voice trembling.

Winter opened the first document, and your eyes widened as you saw a detailed timeline of your life—or at least, the life Wonyoung had constructed for you. There were notes about your supposed accident, medical records, and even fabricated memories she had planted in your mind. It was a meticulous web of lies, all designed to keep you trapped in her world.

“She’s been planning this for years,” Winter said, her voice tight with anger. She clicked on another file, and a series of photos appeared on the screen. Your breath caught in your throat as you saw images of you and Winter together—laughing, holding hands, kissing. The memories came flooding back, overwhelming you with a mix of joy and sorrow.

“This…” you stammered, your voice breaking. “This is real. This is us.”

Winter turned to look at you, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Yes,” she said softly. “This is us. This is the life she took from us.”

You reached out, your hand trembling as you touched the screen, as if you could reach into the past and reclaim what had been lost. The emotions were too much, too raw. You felt a sob rise in your chest, but you choked it back, forcing yourself to stay focused.

“We can’t let her win,” Winter said, her voice firm. She turned back to the laptop, her fingers moving quickly as she copied the files onto the USB drive. “We’ll use this evidence to take her down. But we need to be smart about it. Wonyoung’s not going to let go without a fight.”

You nodded, your jaw tightening with resolve. Whatever it took, you weren’t going to let Wonyoung control you anymore. You were going to fight back—for yourself, for Winter, and for the life that had been stolen from you.

Winter ejected the USB drive and handed it to you, her eyes locking with yours. “Keep this safe,” she said, her voice steady. “It’s our only chance.”

You slipped the USB drive into your pocket, the weight of it pressing against your leg like a reminder of the stakes. Winter turned back to the laptop, her fingers flying over the keys as she began to erase any trace of their intrusion. You watched her, admiring her focus and determination. She was strong, resilient—everything Wonyoung wasn’t.

But as you stood there, a thought occurred to you, sending a chill through your veins. “Winter,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “What if she’s already watching us? What if she knows we’re here?”

Winter paused, her hands hovering over the keyboard. She glanced at you, her expression grim. “She might,” she admitted. “That’s why we need to move fast. We can’t give her time to react.”

You nodded, your chest tightening with anxiety. The clock was ticking, and every second brought you closer to the edge of danger. You could feel the walls closing in, the pressure mounting as the reality of the situation settled over you.

“What’s the plan?” you asked, your voice steady despite the fear coursing through you.

Winter stood up, her eyes blazing with determination. “We confront her,” she said, her voice firm. “We show her the evidence and make her see that she can’t control us anymore. But we need to be careful. She’s dangerous, and she won’t go down without a fight.”

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. The thought of facing Wonyoung was terrifying, but you knew it was the only way to end this nightmare. You had to confront her—for your sake, for Winter’s sake, and for the life that had been stolen from you.

Winter reached out, her hand brushing against yours. Her touch was warm, comforting, and it gave you the strength you needed to move forward. “We’re in this together,” she said softly. “No matter what happens, we’re in this together.”

You squeezed her hand, a surge of determination coursing through you. You weren’t going to let Wonyoung win. You were going to take back your life, no matter the cost.

The sound of a door slamming echoed through the apartment, and your heart skipped a beat. Winter’s eyes widened, her grip on your hand tightening. “She’s here,” she whispered, her voice filled with fear and resolve.

You turned towards the door, your heart pounding in your chest. The moment of truth had arrived.

“Stay behind me,” Winter said, her voice firm as she stepped towards the door. She reached for a heavy book on the desk, her knuckles whitening as she gripped it tightly. “Whatever happens, don’t let her get to you.”

You nodded, your hand instinctively reaching for the USB drive in your pocket. The weight of it was a reminder of what was at stake.

The footsteps grew louder, closer, and then the door swung open

[kittykalliarts]

You've brought me such terrible joy, Duke. 🐺🌧️

Is it curse or a blessing, that I am able to see you in the rain, my love? Our memories and emotions....I can experience them all again under a cascade of hydro. Every droplet, a cherished moment. Though, I wish I could make new ones with you again than to indulge in your echoes.

[kayewrite]

It's a Beautiful Night, We're Looking for Something Dumb to Do...

Hyunjin x reader!!!! genre; fluff. word count:2.5k

summary; its a beautiful night were looking for something dumb to do.. hey baby i think i wanna marry you. love can indeed make you dumb!

a/n: hope you like it

Wedding bells were ringing.

Choirs were singing softly in the background, the melody echoing off the stained glass windows like a warm embrace. I stood still, bouquet in hand, heart fluttering in sync with the rhythm of the moment. I smoothed out the creases in my satin skirt, fingertips trembling slightly. This was it. My cue.

The doors creaked open. The red carpet stretched before me like a dream, and I took a deep breath before stepping forward.

Guests turned. Eyes followed. Smiles lit up.

But my gaze was fixed ahead—at the altar.

There he was.

The groom.

His lips curled into a trembling smile, his eyes glistening. He looked like he was trying not to cry. I couldn't help but smile too, especially when I saw his best man teasing him and snapping candid photos.

Camera flashes flickered like fireflies. Blinding, almost. But it didn’t matter. Nothing could ruin this feeling.

Because today, my best friend was getting married. And I was her maid of honor.

I stood proudly at my designated spot and turned, waiting for her—the bride. And when the white gate opened, the world stilled.

The opening chords of a familiar song played, the very one we had promised each other we'd walk down the aisle to someday. It hit me like a wave.

Tears pricked at my eyes.

She appeared, glowing like a dream, dressed in white. Every step she took was full of certainty, joy, and love.

The way they looked at each other—him at the altar, her from the end of the aisle—it was as if the universe wrote them into each other's pages long before they ever met.

Destiny. That’s what it looked like.

And I was proud. So proud to be standing here, witnessing their love story reach its forever.

I blinked away the tears and tilted my head down slightly. That’s when I noticed someone watching me.

A man.

He was seated two rows from the front. Clean-cut suit. Kind eyes. When our eyes met, he offered a small smile. Gentle. Brief. Then he turned his attention back to the bride.

The ceremony began. I carried out my role as maid of honor with honor and tears—especially during the vow exchange. The love in their words was so raw, so real, that even the toughest souls in the room couldn’t keep from tearing up.

"You are my home," she said.

"And you are my every tomorrow," he replied.

Then, the words that sealed everything: "I now pronounce you husband and wife."

Applause erupted. Hearts swelled.

It was perfect. They were perfect. And yet, a question lingered quietly inside me: Will love like this ever find me? And if it does—when?

Later, during the photoshoot, we gathered against a backdrop of cascading roses under a soft golden sky. Laughter and joy filled the air like champagne bubbles. We took hundreds of pictures—silly ones, sweet ones, teary-eyed group hugs.

The weather was perfect. The mood? Even better.

As I trailed behind the group toward the dining hall, savoring the lingering magic of the ceremony, someone stepped in my path.

The man from earlier.

He stood there with an easy smile that tugged at something inside me.

"Can I take a photo with the most beautiful maid of honor tonight?" he asked, extending his hand like a gentleman from a fairytale.

My heart skipped.

I let out a soft laugh, trying not to look too flustered. "Sure," I murmured, placing my hand in his.

His grip was warm, reassuring. As we stood together for the picture, I could feel something shift in the air—a subtle, quiet spark. The kind that doesn't need fireworks to be felt.

Click.

A snapshot of something that hadn't even started yet—but maybe, just maybe, could.

And I smiled.

The after-party had begun in full swing. Laughter echoed from all corners of the venue, the sound of champagne glasses clinking and music humming in the background. Everyone seemed to have someone to talk to… everyone except me.

The bride—my best friend—had promised not to leave me alone, but I knew she had to entertain guests. It was her night, and she deserved to shine without worry.

I took another sip of champagne from my glass, the bubbles tickling my throat, then quietly stood and slipped out toward the nearest balcony.

The night air greeted me gently.

They really did pick the perfect venue. The garden was covered in hundreds of blooming roses, now lit up with soft golden lights that wrapped around every trellis and arch. Even in darkness, the flowers stood proud—brilliant and unbothered, basking under the glow like they belonged to the stars.

The ambience felt like a dream. The air—just the right kind of cool—filled my lungs in a way I didn't realize I needed. I closed my eyes and let it calm me. This was peace.

“Why are you out here alone?”

I opened my eyes. There he was again—the man from earlier. The one who asked to take a photo with me. He stood under the soft balcony lights, champagne in hand, suit jacket now slung over his shoulder, sleeves rolled to his elbows. His dark hair was slightly tousled, his eyes gentle yet mischievous. Handsome… in a way that made it hard not to stare for a second too long.

He offered a small bow with his glass raised. “Hyunjin,” he introduced with a playful smile. “And you are?”

“Y/N.”

“Such a beautiful name,” he said, voice soft but sincere.

We stood in silence for a moment, watching the twinkling lights wrap around the rose bushes.

“This wedding,” I started, looking out into the garden. “It’s like something out of a fairytale. Honestly… a wedding like this has always been my dream.”

“Yeah?” he asked, turning slightly toward me. “The whole concept of marriage?”

I smiled wistfully. “I don’t really know why. Maybe it’s just something every woman dreams of at some point—finding true love, walking down the aisle, starting forever with someone who chooses you every day.”

He sipped from his glass, eyes thoughtful. “Marriage isn’t just about choosing the perfect person. It’s about choosing the same person, over and over again—even when they’re imperfect. Even when the world tries to convince you otherwise.”

That made me turn to him, brows lifting slightly in surprise. “That’s… actually really beautiful.”

He looked at me, smile tugging at his lips. “Thanks.”

I stared back into the garden, voice softer now. “The only problem is finding that kind of love in the first place.”

I didn’t say it out loud, but in my mind I whispered it,

Love hasn’t been kind to me.

I’ve tried. I’ve hoped. I’ve loved deeply.

And I’ve been left empty just the same.

Sometimes, I think maybe true love is just for the lucky ones… and maybe I’m not one of them.

Hyunjin glanced at me, seeming to understand even the words I didn’t say.

“There’s no such thing as lucky or unlucky in love,” he said quietly. “Sometimes, it’s just… not your time yet.”

I looked at him—his eyes didn’t waver. There was something steady about him, calm yet captivating. The type of guy who made you feel heard even when you weren’t saying a thing. And damn, was he handsome. Not just in the sharp jawline, straight nose, or those expressive eyes… but in the way he carried himself. Like he didn’t need to be loud to be seen.

“Lucky ones are those who find love on their first try,” I murmured. “The unlucky ones keep searching, even after being shattered two… three times. I hate that love plays favorites like that.”

Hyunjin turned to face me fully now. “Don’t blame love,” he said, voice low but firm. “Love never promises to come easy. It just asks that you don’t stop believing in it.”

And in that moment, I didn’t know whether I wanted to cry or kiss the wind for bringing someone like him to this balcony.

"Have you ever experienced love?" I asked, eyes searching his in the dim light.

"A lot of times, actually…" Hyunjin replied after a pause. "Because love isn’t just something you feel for one person. It’s everywhere—through friends, family, even strangers sometimes."

I stared at him, a little stunned by the simplicity of his truth. “So… I have experienced what love is,” I said with a quiet laugh at my own realization.

He smiled, leaning on the balcony railing. “Like how you and your bestfriend loved each other. I saw it tonight.”

“Right…” I nodded slowly, warmth creeping into my chest. “So I am… loved.”

Hyunjin turned to me fully, his voice gentle. “You are always loved.”

Silence fell between us, but it wasn’t heavy. It felt like stillness—like peace.

And then, maybe out of courage—or maybe just the champagne—I looked at him and asked, “If you were willing to commit… would you be ready?”

He met my eyes, not shying away. “If I was given the chance,” he said, “why wouldn’t I be?”

A little laugh escaped me. “Do you have a girl?” I asked, more nervous than I wanted to admit.

He shook his head, smiling a little sadly. “Got heartbroken. And then… attending this kind of wedding?” He let out a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Let’s just say, it doesn’t really help.”

I laughed, too. Somehow, heartbreak shared in moonlight felt softer.

The night continued.

We kept talking.

About life.

About the silly things.

About dreams and fears.

And what we’d name our future dogs.

We laughed too much. Smiled too wide. Drank our champagne with stars above and music muffled in the background.

Then, in the middle of everything, I murmured, “I think Anna’s feelings were valid…”

“Anna?” he asked, confused.

“In the disney movie,” I smiled, “the one who wanted to marry the man she just met.”

Hyunjin stared at me for a moment, eyes full of something I couldn’t quite name.

And then, almost like a whisper, I asked, “Will you marry me?”

His lips curved upward. “Yes.”

And indeed…

It was a beautiful night.

And we were just looking for something dumb to do.

The music from the hall floated softly through the open balcony doors—warm, slow, tender. Without a word, Hyunjin reached out his hand toward me.

“May I have this dance?” he asked with a grin that could melt the moon.

I laughed, cheeks pink from wine and something far more dangerous—hope.

“Sure,” I whispered, slipping my hand into his.

There, under the stars and garden lights, we swayed in each other’s arms. It wasn’t perfect dancing. There were giggles, a few stumbles, and awkward steps—but it didn’t matter. The world around us faded. It was just him. Me. And the music.

He twirled me once, and I almost fell into him, laughing against his chest. His arms tightened around me like he never wanted to let go. Maybe… I didn’t want him to either.

And then, like two kids playing house, we got even dumber.

He looked out over the rose-lit garden and pointed at the red carpet still rolled out from the ceremony.

“What if…” he started, raising a playful brow.

“What?” I smirked.

“We redo the wedding.”

“Our own version?”

He grinned. “Why not?”

It was the dumbest, most wonderful idea.

So I walked to the far end of the garden where the carpet began.

The soft garden lights made everything glow like a fairy tale. The altar stood empty except for one man. Hyunjin.

He stood tall at the front, straightening an imaginary tux, waiting as if he’d waited forever.

I smoothed my dress and lifted a bouquet of roses I borrowed from a centerpiece. Deep breath. I walked the red carpet like I owned it.

He looked at me with that same smile—the one full of awe, like I was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. I laughed mid-walk, nearly tripping. He laughed too, rubbing at his eyes like he couldn’t believe this was real.

There was no priest. No guests. No formal vows.

Just us.

When I reached him, he cleared his throat dramatically. “I vow to always be this dumb if it means doing life with you.”

I laughed through the lump in my throat. “I vow to not run away next time I fall in love… especially if it’s with you.”

We didn’t have rings—so he pulled the tab from his beer can and slid it onto my finger.

I did the same with mine.

Then, without permission from anyone but the sky, we kissed. Not just any kiss.

But the kind that rewrites endings.

That makes you forget about all the pain that came before.

Because love does make you dumb.

A man who wasn’t looking for love… got hurt by it, but never blamed it.

A girl who didn’t believe in love… dumb from love, bruised by love… still chose to look for it anyway.

And maybe that was the miracle of it.

Maybe being dumb in love…

is the smartest thing they’ve ever done.

[stacksrackz]

Act I, Chapter 1

Word count: 5.4k

Contains: smut, biting, spit play

BigXthaPlug’s track titled “Texas” was already tearing through the walls of the room with a forceful intensity, as if the speakers themselves owed him rent for all the sonic energy and emotion he was unleashing. Each beat dragged along like a heavy body, slow yet compelling, creating an atmosphere that wrapped around everyone in attendance. In the background, a blues guitar wept softly, its mournful notes resonating like someone expressing deep sorrow without the permission to do so, adding a layer of poignant melancholy to the hard-hitting rhythm. The bass was so heavy and profound that it seemed capable of shaking the very hookah off its stem, creating ripples of sound that vibrated through the air. Tonight, amid the electric vibe and pulsating rhythms, Bella was alive, radiating an energy that matched the music, her spirit intertwined with the rhythm as she fully embraced the moment.

The Falcons had clinched an exhilarating victory! The vibrant city of Atlanta buzzed with uncontainable energy outside, while inside the luxurious, velvet-lined belly of Bella, the atmosphere was an electric blend of celebration and ritual, it was an experience like no other! Guests were strategically posted across the plush couches, some leaning precariously off the ornate balconies as if to catch every ounce of excitement in the air. The heat of the moment had everyone slicking sweat out of their designer outfits, the glistening fabric shimmering under the dazzling chandeliers. Laughter, cheers, and elated shouts filled the room, creating a cacophony of joy that echoed the thrill of the Falcons’ triumph, definitely being a night destined to be remembered!

Girls with lashes thick like knives, so striking that they could cut through the very air around them, glided past with radiant trays filled to the brim with Casamigos and the bittersweet essence of heartache. Laughter erupted among the crowd, rolling over them like thunder on a warm summer night, a playful attempt to flirt with the very atmosphere itself. The unmistakable scent of weed hung in the air like a rich, earthy blanket, blending seamlessly with the intoxicating perfume swirling through the fog, creating a heady mixture that captivated everyone in the vicinity.

Amidst this electric environment, a bottle girl with stunning waist-length braids exhibited a flair for the dramatic as she poured 1942, a sophisticated tequila, straight into a man’s mouth, while he welcomed another girl into his embrace, deftly tucking a playful band into her thong with a sly grin. Bella, in stark contrast to the bustling club scene around her, didn’t merely breathe; she came alive in a way that felt distinctly pulsating, as though she was a living entity with a heartbeat that synced to the rhythm of the music and laughter.

In one vibrant corner of the venue, the stage was a hub of energy, alive with strippers whose movements suggested that the pole they were performing on owed them reparations. One dancer spun gracefully, her ankle hooked with brilliant precision, moving slowly and syrupy, as layers of bills cascaded down around her, creating a spectacular visual that resembled a strange sort of summer hailstorm. Just a few feet away, another performer arched her back in a way that seemed to defy the laws of physics, eliciting a reaction from a guy at the bar who clutched his chest in awe, whispering a prayer to the universe in appreciation of the mesmerizing display before him.

In the lavish VIP tower, elevated high above the bustling city below, Stack found himself ensconced in his office, an oasis of power and prestige. The walls of smoked glass framed a view that few could ever experience, and beyond them was a well-trained security guard whose steadfast demeanor suggested that nothing could slip through his watchful gaze. Stack sat comfortably in his grand chair, one leg casually crossed over the other, exuding an air of authority that filled the room. A thick cigar rested firmly between his fingers, the smoke curling into the air like a silent testament to his status. Around his neck, a heavy chain gleamed in the ambient light, acting almost like a warning label to anyone who might dare to underestimate him.

His low haircut was meticulously styled, sharp enough to cut through the enveloping silence of the office, while the precise side part created a look that was both edgy and oddly reverent, a balance that made him appear half wicked and half worshipped in the eyes of those who dared to enter his domain. A glass of Hennessy sat untouched on his desk, untouched yet beckoning, a symbol of indulgence that seemed to enhance the entire atmosphere.

Just a few steps away stood Mary, silently poised near the door. She was tall, with a slender figure that projected an air of confidence and determination. Her presence was light yet unmistakably solid, embodying that familiar “don’t try me” attitude, a demeanor that only those resilient women from Mississippi, who have weathered trials and tribulations in life, can truly master. Mary didn’t follow the typical protocol of knocking on the door. She simply opened it with assurance, glancing back over her shoulder to communicate without words.

“She’s here,” she stated, her voice steady, echoing like a subtle announcement that carried weight. Stack, however, didn’t rush to look up; instead, he took another slow, deliberate pull from his cigar, savoring the moment, as if he were gathering his thoughts and preparing for whatever was about to unfold.

The girl stepped inside the dimly lit room, the anticipation coiling in her stomach like a tightly wound spring. Her nerves, delicately tucked away behind her fluttering lashes and a slick layer of lip gloss, seemed to whisper secrets of uncertainty. Yet, there was a grace in her stride, a confident walk that conveyed a sense of experience and familiarity, but she knew, deep down, that this moment was unlike any she had encountered before. Her brown skin hugged her form, exuding both strength and tension, a silent testament to the resilience that lay within.

As Stack’s gaze fell upon her, he was drawn in by the unmistakable familiarity of her smile, not her entire face, nor the depths of her eyes, but that particular curve of her lips that stirred something in him, something he couldn’t ignore. That subtle recognition was all it took for him to silently gesture her further into his space, the unspoken invitation floating between them like charged air before a storm.

Mary, perceptive and sharp, narrowed her eyes at Stack, her instincts honed and alert, clocking the silent communication that flickered in the air before he could even blink. With a slight shake of her head, she turned on her heel and left, the door slamming shut with a force that reverberated through the room, echoing the emotions swirling inside.

Stack, rising from his chair with an air of calm authority, moved in a deliberate manner, tall and composed, reminiscent of ominous thunderclouds gathering in the distance before a storm breaks. “You ever danced private before?” he asked, his voice steady and low.

The girl, maintaining her composure, nodded affirmatively. “Yeah,” she replied, but there was a glimmer of something more in her eyes, a flicker of curiosity and challenge.

“Ever danced for somebody who could make your whole life change in one night?” he probed further, the question hanging heavy in the air. This time, his words made her pause, a contemplative twist of her lips hinting at her intrigue.

“I can be real convincing,” she shot back, a playful challenge lacing her tone. Stack couldn’t help but smile at that, his expression spreading slowly and lazily across his face, warm and inviting like the sultry heat of July afternoons.

Turning away from her, he traversed the room to the far end, where he opened a door leading into the back room. The space was bathed in a sultry red glow, shrouded in shadows that danced across the walls. In the center stood a single chrome pole, gleaming enticingly under the soft spotlight, beckoning with the promise of possibilities that lay ahead.

“Show me,” he said with a deliberate gesture, stepping aside to create space. She walked in with confidence, the anticipation palpable in the air. As the door closed behind her, the music shifted, enveloping her in a new atmosphere. It wasn’t loud like the vibrant chaos of the club; instead, it resonated deeper, with a quality that felt rich and personal. This was something custom, carefully curated just for this moment. The sounds were stripped down to just the rhythmic blend of bass and breath, creating an intimate backdrop.

She reached for the pole, her hand wrapping around it with purpose, and rolled her hips gracefully, letting everything else fade into the background. In that moment, her body began to communicate through movement, a language of its own. Her hips undulated with the fluidity of silk, effortlessly transitioning into a slow grind down the pole, then ascending as if it were a ladder reaching up to the heavens above. Just as gracefully, she dropped into a split, so smooth and effortless that Stack exhaled without even realizing it; it was as if the air had been knocked from his lungs in pure awe.

Then, with a sultry confidence, she crawled toward him on all fours, the energy between them crackling like electricity. She pulled his chair out herself, claiming her space, and straddled him, never allowing her gaze to waver from his. Her eyes held a compelling intensity, drawing him in deeper. Even amidst the tension, she slid her top down slowly, a deliberate act that spoke volumes. She rolled her waist in his lap with a tantalizing rhythm, as if weaving an enchanting spell that held him captive.

Stack found himself entranced, saying nothing, merely allowing her to move, to express herself freely and passionately. He watched as she lost herself, sipping deeply from the intoxicating well of her own performance. When she leaned in tantalizingly close and whispered softly, “Am I hired?” her warm breath brushed against his ear. Stack’s hand instinctively slid along her thigh, then up her back, feeling the heat radiate from her skin. “You in,” he murmured, a sense of thrill coursing through him. “But there’s one more part of the interview.” He gestured subtly toward the door, only to find that Mary was already gone, leaving behind a hint of mystery in her wake.

She didn’t see the subtle yet profound change that flickered in Stack’s eyes, a momentary shift that could hold a thousand unspoken words. The atmosphere around them barely registered in her awareness, as the vibrant music that had once filled the room began to fade into an almost palpable silence, leaving just the sound of their breaths and heartbeats. She didn’t feel the undeniable heat in the air change, an electric current that made the space between them feel charged and alive. But the girl nestled in his lap was acutely aware of these shifts; she leaned in closer, drawn by an allure she believed equated to power and status, convinced that it could lead to untold riches.

In a bold and confident motion, Stack stood up, his presence commanding attention. One by one, he unbuttoned his shirt, each click of the buttons echoing in the charged silence, inviting a deeper intimacy.

The room was drenched in a haunting shade of blood red, a color that seemed to envelop the walls in an embrace that felt almost sinful. It was the sort of red that hinted at secrets and shadows, the type that suggested something forbidden had either transpired or was teetering on the edge of reality, ready to unfold in the most unexpected ways. And right there, beneath the ominous glow of that smoldering hue, stood Stack, a striking figure carved from the very essence of temptation.

He didn’t need to utter a single word, for his mere presence spoke volumes. Leaning casually against the wall, one muscular arm flexed above his head in a comfortable display of strength, while the other hand held delicately a glass filled with a dark liquid, its contents swirling like the mysteries of the night. The ethereal light danced over every inch of his sculpted body, as if the glow were enchanted, hungry for his form—gliding over the smooth, sleek curves of his chest, tracing the deep contours of his abs, and sweeping along his skin like molten lava made flesh.

His torso shimmered in the gentle red light, not with sweat exactly, but with a captivating sheen that gave him an otherworldly vibe, as if he had just emerged from some fierce battle or a refreshing shower, or perhaps stepped out of a vivid and tantalizing dream. His pecs stood high and round, so full and defined that they almost seemed to invite admiration, rising and falling with each deliberate breath he took. It was as if he were fully aware of the intoxicating effect he had on the air around him, the space he occupied, and, most importantly, on her.

In that suspended moment, the atmosphere thickened with unspoken tension, and every beat of her heart echoed like a drum, setting the stage for whatever drama was about to unfold under that captivating crimson glow.And then her eyes, almost instinctively, fell lower, drawn in by an undeniable magnetism. His V line was hell itself—deep, sharp, and undeniably indecent. It cut its way down into his low-slung pants like an alluring path through an uncharted territory, a path she wasn’t quite sure she would be ready to follow, yet somehow she already had, her curiosity getting the better of her. He shifted ever so slightly, and in that effortless movement, every contour of his body flexed, creating a symphony of muscle that seemed to shimmer under the light. His abs tightened subtly, drawing her gaze, while his shoulders rolled with a grace that betrayed strength, and his biceps flared impressively beneath the muted warmth of the environment.

It was the kind of slow burn that ignited something deep within you, a feeling that made your thighs press together with a tension you didn’t even realize was building until it was almost overwhelming. But it wasn’t just his well-defined muscles that captivated her; it was the way he watched her, his gaze intense and penetrating. His head was tilted low, lips barely parted in a silent invitation, and his jaw was tightly clenched, suggesting he was holding back a tempest of emotions. The unspoken tension hung thick in the air, like a taut string ready to snap; she could almost sense that if she stepped just one inch closer, he would drop the cool glass from his hand, grip her hips with a possessive urgency, and reveal just how little control he had left in that charged moment.

He was the embodiment of something fierce and beautiful, made of war and worship, a paradox that only added to his allure. Under the striking red lights that surrounded him, he transcended mere beauty; he appeared almost devoured by the vibrant hue, his skin glowed like smoldering embers, suggesting he was forged from unrelenting heat and raised in the face of danger and excitement. A walking temptation, he was nothing less than her very own sin, beckoning you closer with a tantalizing promise that felt both thrilling and terrifying. In the midst of such intoxicating allure, she didn’t mean to moan; it slipped past her lips, an involuntary response to the charged atmosphere and the magnetic energy pulsing between the two. He pushed off the wall with a powerful grace, as if the very force of gravity had no dominion over him. Each of his steps was slow and deliberate, measured like the careful movements of a predator stalking its unsuspecting prey, one that he was certain he would capture. The vibrant red light surrounding him clung to his skin as if it were reluctant to let him go, shimmering and flickering over the deep, rugged lines of his muscular physique with every stride he took. The taut muscles in his thighs flexed impressively beneath the dark, fitted fabric of his pants, and his chest, ah, his chest had an allure that held its own kind of magic when observed up close, each inch rising and falling like a tantalizing promise that suggested something thrilling, something mesmerizing that she might never fully experience.

It wasn't until he stood directly in front of her, that she realized how much her heart had quickened, how her breath had caught in her throat. He was so close that she could feel the intoxicating warmth radiating from his body, creating an ambiance that enveloped her entirely. The scent of him was irresistible, warm skin mingling with a hint of musk, a blend that was deeply masculine and enticing, reminiscent of amber, rich wood, and an essence that could only belong to him.

"Look at you..." he said in a low, seductive tone, his gaze slowly sweeping down her body, as if he were memorizing every detail, every curve. His voice was a captivating growl, smooth as velvet yet with an undercurrent of something raw and powerful. “Actin’ like you ain’t been starin’ since I walked in.”

She opened her mouth, intending to respond, but no words seemed to form, leaving her speechless in the moment. A smirk played on his lips, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. Then, with an unhurried ease, his hand reached out towards her, slowly, deliberately dragging his knuckles along the line of her jaw with an electric touch, and then down to her neck, sending an unexpected shiver coursing through her body.

He allowed her to press gentle kisses against his neck, a gesture that felt both tender and wild. His hand traveled slowly down the curve of her back and gripping her ass cheeks, while he whispered low promises that danced between desire and caution, words that had the weight of both prayers and warnings entwined in them. And then after sliding down her thong, with a deftness that took her by surprise, he knelt before her. He pressed his lips against her thighs, exploring the soft skin with a fervent tenderness, then going back up to her waist and teasingly biting down. Each movement was deliberate, each kiss a breadcrumb leading to greater passions. He then guided his long tongue from her inner thigh and slide it into the her pussy, slowly flicking his tongue against her clit, then started to pick up the paste, earning a moan out of her while she held his head. His lips felt like heaven against her while he was eating her out, sticking his tongue in and out, letting it explore what it’s like on the inside, while massaging her clit. She felt her body levitate to a different world, feeling as if her legs became numb and that she could no longer move them. She felt her legs begin to give out and Stack took the initiative to place her on the couch, where he could finish eating her and now add in his index finger inside of her while her moans began to get louder and turn into screams.

When she reached the peak of her pleasure, he captured every essence of that moment, savoring it on his tongue, before taking a bold step further, gripped her neck, enough to earn a gasp out of her. She, wide-eyed and surprised, opened her mouth eagerly, a grin spreading across her face, radiating the joy of victory as if she had emerged triumphant from a game only they understood as he slowly started exchanging the mix of his saliva and her cum into her mouth.

He then flipped her to all fours, slapped her ass, made her arch her back and they were in doggy style position and slowly stuck his big dick inside of her, earning a loud and pleased moan out of her. As he put his hand on the back of her neck, he began to give her long deep strokes, while saying the nastiest things to her. After she came, he flipped her over to missionary style, gripping her neck again, slowly french kissing her and slowly but soon began to pick up the pace of his strokes and rolling his hips in a rhythm that made her body jolt and dug her necks in his back. He then pulled away, and told her to “Look at me.” With her struggling to open her eyes, he stared into her eyes intensely while giving her heart stopping strokes . And when she was melting under him, writhing and whispering his name like it was holy, Stack leaned in, started kiss then licked her before sinking his sharp fangs into her neck.

Not soft.

Not slow in its approach, the moment struck with undeniable intensity. A real bite, sharp and thrilling, unmistakably a vampire’s bite that marked the threshold between life and something darker. In response to that piercing sensation, her body jerked involuntarily, as if electrified. Her eyes widened in shock and incredulity, mirroring the sudden horror of what was happening, and her mouth opened as though to scream—but no sound escaped her lips, leaving an unsettling silence in the air.

He consumed, drawing her essence into himself, feeling the warm blood rush into him like a powerful river of life. The lingering taste of her pleasure was still on his tongue, a confusing echo of satisfaction that mingled with the stark reality of what he was doing. The room blurred and began to spin slowly around him as he fed, lost in the heady mix of sensations and the gravity of the moment.

When she finally stilled, barely breathing, her eyes drifting into a half-close that seemed to harbor worlds of unspoken stories, blood cascading from the wound in her neck like a sacrificial offering, he pulled back, momentarily dazed. His gaze settled on her face, and in that brief interlude, he truly saw her. An all-too-familiar visage, one whose name resonated in his mind like a cherished love song played on repeat. That mouth, which held the promise of secrets now lost, and that quiet surrender that captivated him long ago, evoked memories that tugged at his heart. The familiar tilt of her head stirred something deep within him, igniting a flicker of a smile that curved on his lips, a stark contrast to the somberness of the act he had just committed.

As the lights in the room dimmed, shadows danced around them, accentuating the surreal quality of this moment caught between life and night, revealing the duality of their fates forever intertwined.

And across the vast expanse of the country, in a dimly lit room nestled deep within the heart of Texas, a pair of vibrant green eyes fluttered open for the very first time in decades, revealing a profound awakening. Estelle Bellamour blinked slowly, allowing the world to come into focus, and then she exhaled softly, as if releasing a breath she had been holding for an eternity. In that moment, an undeniable sense of wonder washed over her; it was her birthday, a day traditionally filled with celebration and new beginnings.

Elsewhere in the room, Mère Solène, caught off guard by the unexpected sight before her, accidentally dropped the delicate candle she had been holding, the flame flickering dangerously close to the floor. Avelle, taken aback by the miraculous scene, gasped audibly, her astonishment morphing into disbelief. Amara's mouth fell open wide in shock, but no sound emerged, leaving her marveling in silence as the gravity of the moment settled around them.

Estelle, feeling the weight of time pressing on her, sat up slowly, her joints creaking and stiff from years of stillness, her breath shallow as she adjusted to the reality around her. She glanced around the room, her heart racing as she took stock of her surroundings. Three women stood before her, all of them strangers whose expressions twisted in a concoction of awe and horror, their eyes fixed on her as though they were staring at a figure from a long-forgotten story. Yet Estelle was no ghost; she was undeniably present, warm to the touch, solid as the earth beneath her. She felt whole, emboldened by the pulse of life that surged within her, ready to embrace the mystery of her own resurrection.

"And confused, she sat there, grappling with the disorientation that enveloped her like a thick fog. '…Where am I?' Her voice emerged, a strained whisper that betrayed the hoarseness of her throat, a sound rough and fragile. 'Who are y’all?' The question hung in the air, crammed with uncertainty and a desperate need for connection.

Nobody responded immediately, the silence stretching out and amplifying her sense of isolation. Then, slowly, Mère Solène stepped forward, her presence commanding yet soothing, like smoke curling upwards on a quiet evening. 'You’re safe, bébé. You’re with blood,' she intoned, her voice wrapping around Estelle like a warm blanket.

Estelle blinked once, then again, trying to clear the haze clouding her mind. Her memories felt fragmented, like shards of glass scattered across a floor, sharp and disorienting with each piece a reminder of something once whole. The last images that flickered in her mind were vivid yet hazy: the juke joint, alive with pulsing music that echoed in her bones; Annie's voice rising in alarm, piercing through the rhythm; and then, the chaos the fire consuming everything. And then nothingness, a vast chasm of dark silence.

Nearby, Amara was already crying, tears sliding down her cheeks, though the reason remained a mystery to Estelle. The sound of her sister’s sobs weighed heavy in the air, mingling with the tension that crackled around them. Avelle, trying to offer comfort, leaned closer to Amara, steadying her with a gentle hand.

Meanwhile, Mère Solène had slipped into a hushed conversation with the air itself, murmuring something in Creole that sounded both ancient and intimate. As she moved to retrieve the family book, her steps were purposeful and deliberate. 'Bring it,' she instructed Avelle, urgency lacing her words. 'She needs to remember.'

Feeling the emotional weight of the moment, Estelle sank back down into her seat, her body feeling weak and drained, as though all strength had been siphoned away. Her hands trembled, betraying the tumult inside her, and her heart ached with confusion, burdened by a sense of loss she could not quite grasp. As anxiety twisted in her stomach, an uncomfortable emptiness settled there, amplifying her sense of vulnerability.

Avelle approached, her arms cradling the book like a treasured relic, a lifeline to a past that felt both foreign and familiar. The tome was old, bound in leather that bore the marks of time, with gold-etched edges that glinted in the dim light. As she placed the book in Estelle's lap, the pages fluttered slightly, yellowed with age yet heavy with stories yearning to be told. Inside, Estelle caught glimpses of her ancestry: faded photographs capturing moments long gone, handwritten notes that whispered of love and loss, clippings that chronicled lives lived fully, and a family tree that wound through generations.

Then, it was there, her name, inscribed in elegant script. But next to it, a word that felt like a punch to the gut: her death. In that instant, her face crumpled under the weight of realization, and tears cascaded down, hitting the pages with soft plops, like rain on parched earth. Each drop was a silent testament to the storm raging within her heart.

The group of women moved into the room with an unspoken understanding, their presence palpable even in the absence of words. They enveloped Estelle in their warmth, holding her gently but firmly, as if they were anchoring her to the present moment. They rocked her softly in their embrace, creating a peaceful rhythm that provided her with solace, allowing her to release the emotions she had been holding onto for far too long. Tears streamed down her cheeks, cascading like a long-overdue rain, as she cried openly and freely, as if the floodgates had finally opened after decades of pent-up sorrow. Outside the room, beyond the sanctuary they had created, Amara's phone began to buzz insistently, shaking with each vibration as if it were trying to break through the heavy atmosphere.

Still feeling rattled from the emotional weight of the moment, Amara stepped cautiously into the hallway, the remnants of tears lingering in her eyes. With a deep breath, she answered her friend’s call, feeling the excitement bubbling through the receiver. “Girl, guess what!” her friend exclaimed, practically radiating joy. “I got the job at Bella! You know, that club in Atlanta that everyone keeps talking about! It’s so fine and the boss? His name is Stacks, and let me tell you, he’s nice as hell and fine too! You absolutely have to come work there with me!”

Amara felt herself freeze in place, as if time had suddenly stopped. Behind her, back in the room, she could sense that Estelle had halted her silent sobs. She was staring blankly at the wall, her mind seemingly racing through a maze of memories, whispering the name that had drawn Amara's attention. “Stacks…”

With hesitant steps, Amara turned back toward the room, her phone clutched tightly in her hand, feeling as if it had become a curse, burdening her with something heavy. Estelle looked up at her, tears still glistening in her eyes, and repeated softly, “…Stacks.” The name lingered in the air, a ghost from the past that neither of them could ignore.

“Where did I hear that name…” Estelle mused, her brow furrowing in concentration as she turned to Mère Solène, seeking answers. “…He died, didn’t he?”

Mère Solène hesitated, her silence speaking volumes. “We assumed he did. You know how things were back then. No one’s seen him since that fateful night.”

Estelle's hands suddenly balled into tense fists, her body language signaling a storm brewing within her. She lowered her head, allowing her breath to slow as she tried to process the overwhelming tidal wave of emotions crashing over her. Her thoughts began to race, connecting dots to memories long buried. They’d all vanished without a trace. She felt an unsettling chill as the realization settled in that she had died too, in a way, long before this moment had arrived.

Stack’s face stared back at her from the reflection, modern and undeniably striking, adorned with a gold chain that glimmered ominously in the light. His hairstyle was the same precise cut on the side, was a stark reminder of the memories she tried so hard to bury. Estelle blinked rapidly, as if trying to shake off the fog of the past that had suddenly crept back into her mind. Overwhelmed, she instinctively covered her mouth with her trembling hand, as a soundless word fought to escape her lips. Her fingers began to shake uncontrollably, igniting a rush of memories that flooded her consciousness.

The fire raged wildly in her mind, the vivid images of flames dancing, twisting, and devouring everything in their path. The blood…that haunting, dark crimson that stained the ground, it came rushing back with a visceral intensity. She could see Stack running toward her, his face a mask of urgency, a fierce protector in a world that had spiraled into chaos. Then, Annie's desperate scream echoed in her ears, “These ain’t no haints, they vampires!” The frantic desperation in that voice sent a chill down her spine. The pungent aroma of garlic juice filled her senses, a desperate defense against the dread that threatened to consume them all. A piercing headache blossomed between her temples, and everything around her began to fade into a swirling darkness.

Suddenly, Estelle doubled over, overwhelmed by the weight of it all. “Amara!” she called weakly, her voice barely rising above the chaos in her mind as she sought help. In an instant, Mère and Avelle rushed back into the room, their faces etched with concern. They attempted to soothe her agitation, but in a sudden surge of strength, Estelle clutched Amara's arm with surprising intensity, her grip firm and unwavering.

“…Take me to Bella,” she commanded, her voice steady yet chillingly cold, leaving no room for argument. “Take me to him.” And just like that, the past, the fragments of pain and fear began to stir and walk again, beckoning her to confront the shadows she had long tried to escape.

[its-avalon-08]

Where's the trophy? He just comes running over to me any driver but this vibe!

the alchemy (mv1)

✦ pairing - max verstappen x female!reader

✦ genre - just plain ol'fluff

The roar of the crowd at Yas Marina Circuit was deafening. Max Verstappen, helmet still on, emerged from his Red Bull, a champion for the first time. Relief, exhaustion, and pure, unadulterated joy warred on his face. He bypassed the waiting media scrum, his eyes scanning the jubilant throngs of orange. There, amidst the sea of ecstatic fans, stood Y/N, his rock, his sunshine.

where's the trophy?

"Max! Max! Max!" David Croft's voice boomed over the international broadcast. "He's forgoing the initial interview! Looks like the celebrations are starting a little early!"

he just comes running over to me

Max sprinted towards her, a wide grin splitting his face. He reached her, engulfed her in a bone-crushing hug, and spun her around like a jubilant ballerina. Y/N, tears welling in her eyes, clung to him, her laughter echoing in the cacophony.

He finally stopped, cupping her face, his blue eyes shimmering with emotion. "We did it, Y/N! We fucking did it!"

"We did, Max," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "You were incredible out there!"

Max pulled her in again, burying his face in her hair. The roar of the crowd seemed to fade into the background as he whispered, "I couldn't have done it without you. You believed in me when I doubted myself, pushed me when I wanted to quit, and loved me even when I was a grumpy mess after a bad race."

Y/N tilted her head up, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "Hey, that's part of the package, Champion," she teased. "But seriously, Max, I'm so incredibly proud of you. You've worked so hard for this moment."

Max gazed at her, his eyes filled with adoration. "You mean everything to me, Y/N. You're my best friend, my confidante, my biggest supporter. This championship, it's ours."

Croft's voice cut back in, tinged with amusement. "And there you have it, folks! Max Verstappen with a very emotional message for his girlfriend, Y/N. It seems the celebrations are truly personal tonight!"

Max chuckled, brushing a stray tear from Y/N's cheek. "Come on," he said, taking her hand. "Let's celebrate with the team. They deserve this as much as we do."

He led her through the throngs of ecstatic Red Bull personnel, who whooped and cheered, showering them with confetti and champagne. Y/N, her arm linked with Max's, felt a surge of pure happiness. This championship wasn't just his; it was a testament to the unwavering support of a team, a family, and the love of a remarkable woman. As they joined the celebrations, Y/N knew this was just the beginning of their incredible journey together.

max's pov

The champagne shower was a glorious, stinging euphoria. Confetti rained down, a kaleidoscope of orange and white mirroring the elation that bubbled in my chest. The podium lights felt unnaturally bright, but the cheers of the crowd were a warm, intoxicating wave. I was a champion. Formula One World Champion.

But amidst the cacophony, my vision cut through the noise, drawn to the familiar splash of sunshine yellow in the crowd. Y/N. There she was, a beacon amidst the sea of orange. Her hair, usually pulled back in a practical braid, cascaded down her shoulders in the humid Abu Dhabi night, windblown and free. Her face, usually reserved and composed when I was in the car, was a mask of pure, unadulterated joy. Tears welled in her eyes, sparkling like tiny diamonds under the floodlights.

Time seemed to slow. The roar of the crowd faded, replaced by the frantic pounding of my heart. A wide grin stretched across my face, mirroring the one I knew was mirrored on hers. We locked eyes for a fleeting moment, an unspoken conversation passing between us. Her lips moved, forming the words that had echoed in my head all season, the fuel that had propelled me through every grueling race, every nerve-wracking qualifying session.

"I love you."

The sound didn't reach me, drowned out by the cheers, but I knew. I knew with a certainty that transcended words. It was in the glistening tears, the trembling smile, the way her entire being radiated pure, unadulterated pride. This wasn't just my victory. It was ours.

As Christian Horner sprayed me with champagne, the sting a welcome reminder of the moment, my gaze never left her. She was my rock, my anchor, the sunshine that chased away the storm clouds of doubt. This championship trophy, held aloft in my numb fingers, was as much hers as it was mine. It was a symbol of our journey, a testament to the unwavering support that had carried me across the finish line.

The podium celebrations blurred into a whirlwind of handshakes, interviews, and backslaps. But through it all, her image remained etched in my mind, a beacon of love and pride. And when I finally found myself back at the team motorhome, the echoes of the celebration fading, I knew exactly where I needed to be. With her.

[anamina0]

Echoes

Part I , Part II , Part III , Part IV, Part V ,Part VI, Part VII , Part VIII

Warning/themes : slight smut, eating out , submissive Vi? fluff, mentions of death, breakup, a lot of angst

Word count : 5.2k

The sunlight peeked through the windows, casting a warm, golden glow across the room. Soft beams of light brushed against your eyelids, urging you to wake, though the true warmth came from the arm draped around your waist. Vi’s arm. Her touch radiated a soothing heat that sent shivers up your spine, a perfect contradiction—toughness softened by care. You stirred slightly, careful not to disturb her as you let yourself savor the moment. Slowly turning to face her, your gaze fell on her features. Relaxed, unguarded. Her usually sharp eyes were hidden behind thick lashes, her expression softened by sleep. She was stunning like this—her wild strength quieted in a way only you got to see. A tender smile tugged at your lips as flashes of last night filled your mind. It had been perfect, raw, and real. It had reminded you what safety felt like in another person’s arms. And yet, beneath that warmth, there was the weight of your secret. Was it selfish to want to stay? To hold onto this joy you’d found? Maybe. But after everything, didn’t you deserve this? The guilt crept back in anyway. You knew the clock was ticking. You’d either have to tell her the truth… or walk away before the truth could destroy her. Lost in thought, your fingers brushed gently over her cheek, tracing her jawline. She stirred at your touch, shifting closer, a soft sigh escaping her lips. Her lashes fluttered, and when her eyes opened, the sight of you brought a smile to her face.

“Morning, stranger,” you teased softly, the words almost catching in your throat as her sleepy gaze pulled you in.

“Morning,” she murmured, her voice husky and warm, making your heart stutter. She tightened her hold on you, pulling you closer, skin against skin.

You felt a rush of heat as your bare body pressed against hers, every inch of her setting you alight in ways that should’ve been illegal. Still, you fought to keep your head clear, though it wasn’t easy when Vi was looking at you like that—like you were the only thing in the world.

“How’d you sleep?” you asked, your voice soft but unsteady.

Her grin was lazy as she tilted her head into the pillow, never taking her eyes off you. “Like a rock. Haven’t felt this peaceful in… forever.” She wasn’t shy about her feelings, and that honesty made something ache in you.

You swallowed the lump rising in your throat. “Yeah. Me too,” you whispered.

Her lips curved slightly as you leaned closer, pressing your nose to hers in a playful touch. She chuckled quietly, her fingers brushing along your spine. This was everything, you thought, in that moment.

No. You couldn’t lose this. You wouldn’t. You’d figure out what to do about your secret later. But for now, you pressed another kiss to her lips and let yourself sink deeper into this fragile happiness, as if it could last forever.

The words slipped out before you could stop them. “I’m sorry,” you said softly, the sound barely cutting through the gentle rush of the shower’s water. You hesitated, searching for the right way to explain yourself. “For earlier... I didn’t mean to shut you out.”

Vi’s hands, which had been tracing lazy patterns on your hips, stilled. She tilted her head, her eyes searching your face as if to make sense of what you were saying. You felt the heat of her gaze even through the cascade of water dripping down your skin.

“I just... I didn’t know how to bring you into it,” you continued, swallowing hard. “I needed to handle it on my own. I didn’t want you to think I was ignoring you, or worse, that I didn’t want you.” Your voice cracked on the last part, the vulnerability in your words catching up to you. You looked up into her eyes, feeling that all-too-familiar lump rise in your throat. “The truth is...” Your fingers brushed against her face, sweeping wet strands of pink hair away from her eyes. “Every second I spent without you, you were all I could think about. All I wanted was to be here—with you.”

Her expression softened, the tension in her shoulders melting away like ice thawing under the sun. She let out a soft exhale, like she had been holding her breath without realizing it.

“I understand,” she finally said, her voice low but steady. “Sometimes, you gotta chase your own monsters. But,” she added, her tone firmer now, “if we’re doing this, I need you to know you don’t have to fight them alone. You have me now. You’re not alone anymore.”

She pressed a kiss to your forehead, warm and grounding. The gesture made your chest ache, equal parts love and guilt.

“I know,” you whispered. “I'll tell you once I sort things out. I promise.” The words spilled from your lips, a promise that felt like both a lifeline and a noose.

Vi studied you for a moment longer, as if gauging whether or not to believe you. Then, her lips curved into a small, knowing smile. “Good,” she murmured, brushing her nose against yours before planting a soft kiss on your lips. Then she stepped back slightly, her hands trailing over your waist. “I’m starving,” she said with a playful grin, her teeth grazing her bottom lip as she looked at you.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. “Shower first,” you countered, grabbing the edge of the blanket you had draped around you. Before you could fully wrap yourself, Vi’s hand shot out, tugging the fabric loose. Her grin widened as she let her eyes roam over your bare body without shame.

“You don’t need that in the shower,” she teased, her voice dropping slightly.

“Asshole,” you muttered, turning your back to her, though the heat in your cheeks betrayed you. You felt her gaze linger on you, heavy and unyielding as you stepped into the shower.

The water was hot, almost scalding, but the sensation was drowned out the moment Vi slipped in behind you. Her body pressed firmly against yours, her hands finding your waist again as her lips began trailing soft kisses along the curve of your neck.

“Vi,” you whispered, your voice shaky but steady enough to be a warning.

She hummed against your skin, her grip tightening as she murmured, “Just let me.”

You reached for the soap, a playful smirk curving your lips. “Let me help,” you said, turning around to face her.

Her lips quirked up, but she didn’t argue, placing her hands on the wall of the shower and letting you take the lead. You ran the soap along her shoulders first, marveling at the strength beneath her skin. As your hands traveled lower, they lingered over her tattoos, tracing each intricate line with quiet admiration.

“You’re beautiful,” you said softly, almost absentmindedly, your fingers moving down to the small of her back.

Vi glanced over her shoulder, the smile on her lips softer this time. “You’re just saying that because I’m naked,” she teased.

You laughed quietly, but your reply was earnest. “No, Vi. I mean it.”

Your arms slipped around her, drawing her closer as you lathered the soap along her collarbone and shoulders. The water rinsed away the suds, leaving nothing but her soft skin beneath your touch. Standing on your toes, you pressed a kiss to her neck, your lips finding that spot just beneath her jaw that made her shiver. Her breathing hitched when your hands moved lower, brushing over her breasts. You massaged her gently, your thumb circling her nipple. A low sound escaped her lips, barely audible over the shower’s steady . Without breaking the rhythm of your movements, your hand slipped between her thighs. She gasped, her hips instinctively shifting forward as your fingers glided through her wetness. You found her clit easily, the slick heat of her core guiding you, and began to massage slow circles that had her trembling against you.

“Fuck,” she moaned, her voice deep and raspy. One of her hands braced against the shower wall, while the other reached back, gripping your hip for support.

Her breathing grew heavier as you continued, her moans growing louder with every movement of your hand. When you leaned up to whisper in her ear, your voice was a husky murmur. “Let me taste you.”

She looked at you, her lips crashing against yours in a kiss that was as much a “yes” as it was an invitation to take everything she was willing to give. Your heart pounded as you sank to your knees, the water cascading over both of you as your lips trailed down her stomach. She watched you, her darkened gaze heavy with desire, her chest rising and falling rapidly as anticipation built. Your tongue slid over her wetness, slow and deliberate, drawing out each movement as if savoring her taste. Vi's head tilted back against the tiled wall of the shower, and a soft groan escaped her lips. The water poured over her skin, mingling with the heat that radiated from her, steam filling the space around you. Her fingers tangled in your damp hair, tugging just enough to show she wanted more-no, needed more.

"You're driving me crazy," she whispered, her voice strained with desire, thick and breathless. That was all the encouragement you needed. Your hands gripped her thighs, firm yet soft, pulling her closer as you explored her with your tongue, dipping lower, deeper, tasting her as she came undone above you. Every moan, every quiet whimper from her made your pulse race, igniting a fire in your chest that only she co rause.

"Fuck," she groaned, her hips instinctively grinding toward your mouth, "Don't stop."

You hummed against her, the vibration making her shiver. You took your time, letting your tongue trace every sensitive spot, every inch of her that made her shudder. You wanted her to know that she wasn't just safe with you - but utterly worshipped. One of your hands moved from her thigh, finding her clit with practiced precision. The light brush of your fingers against her was enough to make her legs tremble. She pressed a hand harder against the wall to steady herself, her breathing uneven. Her wetness dripped onto your tongue as you worked her over, the taste of her more intoxicating with every stroke, every flick, every press , she was delicious. Your fingers picked up pace, moving against her clit in time with the thrusts of your tongue. Vi's body started to tense, her moans turning louder, rawer, echoing in the small space.

"Right there," she gasped, voice breaking. Her free hand gripped tighter in your hair, the pressure grounding you, urging you on. "Oh my god-, right there." Her hips bucked against your face as she lost control, her entire body trembling under the build-up of tension. She was close-you could feel it in the way she started to unravel, her muscles tightening beneath your hands.

"Look at you," you whispered against her, your voice low and teasing but filled with admiration. "You're so perfect when you let go for me."

That seemed to push her over the edge. Her legs nearly buckled as the first wave hit, her back arching, her breaths shallow and uneven. "Oh shit— oh fuck," she moaned, louder now, fully giving in to the pleasure you'd built up inside her. You didn't stop, riding the crest of her orgasm with her, tongue still teasing, fingers still massaging until she was trembling, her body wracked with wave after wave. Her cries became softer but no less intense, her hand pulling you closer as if afraid you'd stop too soon.

Finally, she let out a shuddering breath, her body slumping against the wall, spent but glowing. Her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath, and when her gaze met yours, it was soft, filled with something beyond lust-something raw and tender.

You stood, kissing her stomach, her collarbone, her lips, until you were face to face again, her arms instinctively wrapping around your waist.

She chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. " You might've ruined me for breakfast."

You laughed, the sound filling the steam-heavy shower, your foreheads resting together as the water poured around you. For now, it felt like the outside world couldn't touch you. Only Vi mattered, only this.

And maybe, just for a little longer, you'd let yourself believe it could stay that way.

“Are you sure that’s the right way to do it?” you giggled softly, watching Vi wrestle with something unfamiliar in the kitchen. Her sleeves were rolled up, her brows furrowed in the most endearing concentration.

“Shhh, don’t underestimate my abilities,” she shot back with a grin, deflecting your playful jab as she kept working.

“Okay, my bad,” you surrendered, sliding into the chair by the counter, eyes trailing her every movement. “But… I still think I’m the better cook,” you teased with a smirk, unable to resist.

Vi paused just briefly, arching a brow in mock disdain. “Well, yeah,” she fired back, the sarcasm rich in her voice. “I didn’t exactly hone my culinary skills in prison. So, let me enjoy the process, alright?”

Her words hit a nerve you weren’t ready for. Your laughter faltered for just a moment as your gaze softened. Vi hadn’t noticed, not yet. She was too focused on stirring, measuring, creating—perhaps even distracting herself. But you noticed. You always did. She was just 14, torn from everything she knew and locked away in a cold, unfeeling cell for eight years. Eight years of surviving when most people would’ve shattered under the weight of it all. And yet… here she was, standing before you, kind, patient, a walking testament to everything she could’ve lost but somehow chose to preserve. How? How did she do it? You swallowed hard, caught in the swirling storm of your thoughts.

“Hey…” her voice broke through the haze. She wasn’t looking at you yet, but she must have felt your silence hanging too heavy. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied. Or maybe it wasn’t a lie. “I just—” You hesitated, biting your lip. You weren’t sure why you let yourself ask, but once the words started tumbling out, you couldn’t stop them. “How was it? Being in prison for so long, and so young? I mean, you don’t have to answer—”

Vi’s hands froze over the pan for just a moment before she sucked in a quiet breath and forced her focus back on the food. “It was… horrible,” she admitted softly. “When I first got there, I thought—I don’t know what I thought. I was scared. Really scared. But I couldn’t show it. You can’t, you know?” She paused, stirring again with a kind of restless energy. “I don’t even know how I got through eight years. Maybe hope? I think there was this… tiny sliver of hope that Powder was still out there. That kept me going. I’d lie awake every night thinking about her.”

Your chest tightened. Hope. How much of it still lingered inside her, after all that time? Her hope was rooted in the past. In something you now knew. Something you hid.

“Powder is your sister, right?” The question left your lips so quietly, you weren’t sure if it had been meant for her or just the silence hanging between you both.

“She was…” Vi answered, the weight of those words palpable as they fell from her lips. Her breath caught briefly before she pushed through it, masking her hurt with a deep inhale. But you could feel it. You could always feel it with her, the kind of pain that lingered even in the moments she tried to tuck it away. And guilt slammed into you like a tidal wave. You shouldn’t have asked. How could you look at her and listen to the ache in her voice, knowing what you knew? Knowing that her sister wasn’t a ghost but a nightmare waiting just around the corner? You were selfish. Keeping this from her—keeping secrets so you could hold on to this, to her—was cruel in ways you didn’t know how to face.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, the words tumbling out before you could think to stop them.

“For what?” she asked, glancing at you, that teasing spark back as her fingers brushed against your cheek, grounding you. You hated how much comfort her touch brought you, how undeserving you felt of it.

“For what happened to you,” you lied again, hiding the truth behind an apology that wasn’t fully yours to give.

Vi’s smile returned, a small one that didn’t reach her eyes this time. She let it slide, wordlessly plating the food she’d prepared and handing a dish to you. “I really hope this won’t kill you,” she quipped with an almost-laugh, always using humor to keep herself afloat. “I kinda like having you around.”

“Kinda?” you scoffed, lightly smacking her shoulder, feeling the warmth in her laugh as it echoed in the kitchen.

Sitting down at the table, the two of you found a kind of peace again, talking about everything and nothing. You looked at her as she spoke, losing yourself in the familiarity of it. This felt right. Safe. It felt like something you hadn’t had in a long, long time. Home.

“Wait—” You paused mid-bite, narrowing your eyes playfully. “This… actually isn’t that bad.”

“I’ll take that as a—”

But whatever she was about to say never came, cut off by the sudden, sharp knock at the door. You froze. She did too.

“Waiting for someone?” Vi asked cautiously, setting her fork down and standing to her feet.

“No,” you whispered, confused, heart pounding for reasons you didn’t yet understand.

The second knock came faster, louder this time. You stood, glancing at Vi as she moved to follow you. Every nerve in your body screamed at you to stop, to leave it, to turn back. But you didn’t. With shaking fingers, you undid the lock and opened the door.You froze. Air left your lungs like you’d been struck.

“Hey,” a voice rasped, rough around the edges and too real to belong to any memory.

Your world tilted. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t move. The figure standing before you—this couldn’t be.

Ellie. You couldn’t speak. You just stood there, frozen in the doorway, staring at her like she was a ghost brought to life. But she wasn’t a ghost. She was real. Too real. You could see the way her short auburn hair was tied into a half-bun, the strands still messy, like she hadn’t slept. You saw the faint freckles splattered across her face, the ones you used to know so well, the ones you’d trace absentmindedly on quiet nights. Her green eyes—they were different now. Duller, somehow. A little harder. But they were still hers.Ellie was right there, standing only a few feet away, and it felt like the air had been punched out of you.

“Y/N…” Her voice cracked as she said your name, breaking the thick, suffocating silence that hung in the doorway. She took a tentative step forward like she didn’t know whether to reach for you or run from the look on your face. Vi shifted behind you, her presence a steady weight, but Ellie didn’t acknowledge her. It was like you were the only person she saw. Your body moved before you even registered it. You stepped back—one, two, three steps—putting more distance between you and her as though the space would shield you from the overwhelming wave of emotions surging inside you. Anger rose to the surface, burning hotter than the shock. Anger so fierce it drowned out everything else.How dare she? How dare she show up here? After all this time. After what she did. After you clawed your way out of the wreckage she left behind and built a life—your life. How could she think she had the right to show up and tear it all apart? Again.

“Get out,” you hissed, the words sharp and raw as they escaped your throat. You could feel your composure slipping through your fingers like sand. “I’m not going to say it again.” Your voice cracked slightly, but you took a step forward this time, closing the distance just enough to let her know you meant every word.

Ellie didn’t flinch. Not really. But you saw her swallow hard, her jaw tightening before her lips parted, trembling. “I will,” she said quickly, raising her hands in a placating gesture. “I promise, okay? I’ll leave. Just… just let me talk to you first.”

The bitter laugh that broke from your chest surprised even you. “A promise?” you spat, the word dripping with venom. “Are you serious, Ellie? We both know your promises mean nothing. So save it. Get the fuck out of here. I have nothing to say to you, and I sure as hell don’t want to hear anything from you.”

Vi’s voice, calm but firm, cut through the tense air behind you. “You heard her.” She leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, though there was nothing casual about the way her sharp gaze lingered on Ellie.

Ellie’s eyes flicked toward her for the first time, her brows furrowing in irritation at being interrupted. Her tone turned cold, defensive. “I’m not talking to you,” she hissed back before her focus snapped back to you. It softened instantly, a desperate edge creeping into her voice as she took another cautious step closer. “Y/N, please. You can kick me out. Yell at me. Hit me if you want—I deserve it. I know that. I know I do. But please, just give me five minutes. Just let me talk to you. Alone.”

The last word was added with a pointed look toward Vi, her jaw tightening. She wasn’t just asking. She was begging.

•• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• ••

It was the middle of the night when the quiet creak from outside the room pulled you from your sleep. At first, you thought it was nothing—maybe the house settling, or the wind brushing against the windows. But then you noticed it: the faint glow of light coming from the living room, spilling in through the half-opened door. You blinked a few times, trying to clear the sleep from your eyes, before instinctively reaching for Ellie beside you. Your hand hit an empty mattress. Her side of the bed was cold.

Your heart sank as unease crept in, but you still didn’t fully understand. Not yet. You sat up, rubbing the sleep from your face as you forced yourself out of bed.

“Ellie?” you called softly, your voice husky with sleep, barely cutting through the stillness of the room.

Through the crack in the door, you saw her silhouette—frozen in the middle of the living room like she’d been caught. She wasn’t supposed to be there, and something about the way she stood, stiff and hesitant, made your stomach churn.

“What’s going on?” you asked quietly, stepping closer, your bare feet soft against the floor.

She turned slowly to face you, and the moment her eyes locked with yours, it hit you like a punch to the chest. You didn’t even need her to say it. Her expression told you everything. She was holding a backpack.

“Ellie…” The word was barely a whisper, cracking under the weight of sudden, overwhelming dread. “No.” Your voice was firmer this time as you took a step closer. Your heart was already breaking before you could even piece it all together. “No,” you repeated, your tone trembling. “No, you’re not doing this.”

She exhaled shakily, her chest rising and falling in an uneven rhythm. She looked like she wanted to say something—needed to—but nothing came out. Instead, she reached up, gently catching your hand as it brushed over her freckled cheek. She didn’t lean into it like she always did.

“Y/N, please… don’t,” she whispered, pulling your hand away. Her touch was cold, distant. Not the warmth you were used to. She stepped back, putting more space between the two of you.

“Don’t?” Your voice cracked as you felt the first tear slip down your cheek. You couldn’t keep up with what was happening. Why was this happening? You hadn’t fought. There wasn’t a single warning sign. Nothing. “Ellie,” you pleaded, desperate, your voice shaking harder now. “What’s going on? What did I do? Why—why are you doing this?”

She avoided your eyes, her lips trembling, but her face was set, as if forcing herself to stay strong. “We both know this won’t work for long,” she mumbled, her voice breaking with quiet resignation. “It’s better if it ends now.”

It was like someone had sucked all the air out of the room.

“Bullshit,” you snapped through the tears now falling freely down your face. Your hands trembled as you reached for her again, desperate to close the gap between you. “What are you even talking about? We’re happy, Ellie! We’re happy! I’m happy!”

She flinched slightly at the words, her breath hitching like you’d hit her, but she didn’t back down. Her silence was deafening.

You stepped closer, your voice softening, barely audible. “I love you.”

She froze, her jaw tightening, but her gaze still wouldn’t meet yours. The silence that followed was heavier than anything you’d ever felt. Like the walls were caving in around you, crushing you under their weight. When she finally spoke, it was barely a whisper, her words shaky and raw. “I’m sorry.”

Then she turned away.

“No—wait,” you stammered, stumbling forward, but she was already at the door. Her fingers brushed against the handle, the finality of it hitting you like a freight train. “Ellie, don’t do this! Please!”

She opened the door without looking back, her shoulders hunched as if carrying the weight of the world. For a split second, you thought she might stop, might turn around and take it all back. But she didn’t. She stepped through the doorway and disappeared into the night. The cold air rushed in, filling the empty space she left behind, and all you could do was collapse where you stood. The door creaked as it swung shut, but the sound barely registered over the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

She was gone.

•• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• ••

Flashbacks clouded your mind, consuming every ounce of rationality you could muster. After everything, after all she had done to you—she had the audacity to show up here? At your door? She didn’t deserve it. She didn’t deserve even a shred of your attention. The wounds she left on you ran too deep to forgive, too raw to ignore. You had given her everything, laid yourself bare, handed her your love and trust on a silver platter. And she had tossed it aside, left you shattered and hollow, forcing you to pick up the broken pieces of yourself. And now, here she was, standing there like a ghost refusing to fade.

“I don’t want to hear another word from you,” you hissed, your voice trembling with rage. You tried to keep your composure, but it cracked like glass under the weight of your pain. “I’m serious, Ellie. Whatever it is, I’m not fucking interested. Now turn around and get the hell out of here. You’re good at that, after all.” You weren’t even trying to hide the venom in your words, wanting—no, needing—to hurt her as much as she’d hurt you. Her head dropped, her eyes casting downward, and you could see it—her desperation. Her body language betrayed her, as if her entire being was begging you to let her in, to give her a chance to speak. Her green eyes glistened under the dim light, heavy with the weight of emotions she couldn’t say aloud. It reminded you of yourself… the last time you had seen her, the last time you had begged. But this wasn’t then. You weren’t the same person anymore.

“I’m serious,” she said, her voice shaking but resolute. “I need to talk to you.” Her tone was raw, yet the stubbornness in her words was unyielding. Of course, it was Ellie—she was the most determined, most maddeningly persistent person you had ever known. That much hadn’t changed.

“And I told you I’m not fucking interested,” you snapped, crossing your arms tightly across your chest like a shield. “Whatever it is, save it. It doesn’t matter to me. You don’t matter to me—not anymore.”

Ellie flinched at your words, like they had physically struck her. She stood there, chewing on her bottom lip, clearly searching for something—anything—to make you listen.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said quietly but firmly. “You can kick me out right now if you want, Y/N, but I’ll just stand outside your door all night if that’s what it takes. I’ll stay until you talk to me.”

Your laugh came out sharp, bitter. “What a fucking joke.” Your voice dripped with sarcasm, but you felt your resolve begin to crack, your chest tightening. “Talk about what, huh? About how you left without saying a damn word? About how you ripped me apart and didn’t even look back?” You could feel the floodgate threatening to open, so you took a deep breath and steadied yourself, refusing to give her the satisfaction of seeing you crumble. Ellie stepped forward, her lips parting like she was about to say something, but Vi’s voice cut through the tension like a blade.

“Are you deaf?” Vi said coldly, her tone filled with threat and unwavering loyalty. “She wants you to leave. Get lost.”

Ellie’s gaze snapped toward Vi, and her defensiveness flared immediately. “I’m not talking to you, punk,” she hissed, her voice low and edged with irritation.You stepped between them, placing a firm hand on Vi’s shoulder before she could move forward. Vi looked at you, her fists clenched tightly, ready to defend you at any cost. But she stopped, catching the stern warning in your eyes. “She’s not worth it, Vi,” you murmured, lowering your voice.

Ellie’s eyes darted between the two of you, and you could see it—jealousy flaring in her expression, sharp and sudden. Her jaw clenched, the familiar tension flickering across her face. But she didn’t address it, didn’t ask. Instead, her focus locked onto you.

“Look, Ellie,” you said, your voice low but unwavering, a finality edging each word. “I’m serious. I don’t want you here—not a second more. Whatever you have to say, you can save it for someone else. I don’t—”

“It’s your brother, Y/N,” she blurted, her voice cutting through your words. Her desperation cracked through the tension like lightning.

You froze. The air shifted.

“What…?” The word barely came out, caught somewhere between disbelief and dread.

Her gaze softened, the storm of emotions still swirling in her green eyes. “It’s your brother,” she repeated, steadier now. “Faye… she found him.”

Your heart stopped, the room spinning as the weight of her words crashed down on you.

Author's note : I'm so sorry for delay but I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Ellie finally shows up! What do you think , what is going to happen? Do you like how story is going so far? I really appreciate your feedback so don't be shy to share it with me!

This is my little Christmas gift for my readers. Marry Christmas everyone, I hope you're having a good one!

Thank you !!

[the-fiction-witch]

As Do I P4

Media - EPIC The Musical Saga Character - Prince Telemachus Of Ithaca Couple - Telemachus X Reader Reader - Princess Y/n of Zakynthos Rating - 12 Word Count - 986

Tags - (If you would like to be tagged in this series do just let me know) @sunshinewhosketches

Telemachus Art - Gigi

Telemachus sat in his cosy bed as the velvety darkness of evening enveloped the room, the soft glow of the flickering fire casting playful shadows on the walls. The gentle breeze drifted through the windows, rustling the light, gauzy curtains, almost as if nature itself was trying to soothe him. The rhythmic sounds of the sea, with the distant waves lapping against the shore,

With his back comfortably resting against the headboard, he found his gaze wandering to the intricately patterned ceiling above him. Despite the setting's tranquillity, his thoughts were tumultuously fixated on Y/n. The ache of her absence tugged at his heart, an overwhelming longing that made him yearn for her warmth. He envisioned her wrapped safely in his arms, the two of them cocooned together in a bubble of joy. He longed to feel her soft hair slipping through his fingers, dreaming of intertwining their bodies beneath the gentle flicker of the firelight as they drifted into a peaceful slumber, together.

But he perked up as his door slowly creaked open, without even thinking he grabbed his sword’s hilt from the side of his bed.

“Telemachus?” Y/n whispered,

She peeked inside sheepishly, her lavender nightgown cascading to the floor like a whisper of soft fabric, the rich hue catching the dim light of the room. A delicate white shawl draped around her shoulders, intricately woven with floral patterns. Her hair flowed freely down her back in loose, shimmering waves, framing her face and not hiding her eye.

“Y/n!” He sat up excitedly, “what are you doing here, darling?” he asked, making sure to keep himself concealed by the sheets.

“I can’t sleep.” she whimpers,”

“Awwww, me either.” he cooed, “Maybe we can keep each other comfortable,”

“You don’t mind?”

“Not at all, my darling,” he smiled, “Come on, you’re more than welcome to my sweet future wife.” He patted his bed suggestively,

She smiled softly, a delicate flush rising to her cheeks as she gently closed the door behind her. The quiet click of the latch echoed in the stillness of the room. With a shy grace, she approached the bed, the fabric of her nightgown whispering against her skin. Once she reached the edge, she pulled the hem of her gown to her knees, revealing a glimpse of smooth, fair skin. Slowly, she crawled onto the bed, each movement deliberate and graceful, and settled onto the unused half, the mattress yielding softly beneath her.

Telemachus contentedly fluffed his plush pillow, the soft fabric yielding to his touch, and pulled the crisp, cool sheets snugly around him. He settled onto his side, his face turned towards her, a gentle smile playing on his lips. The comforting scent of freshly laundered linens enveloped him, adding to the serene atmosphere of the evening. “Hi,”

“Hi,” She blushed,

“You feel comfy?”

“Mhm,” she nodded, “You’re bed’s very soft,”

“Yeah, I like a soft bed,” he smiled, “Isn’t your bed soft?”

“Not really, I only have a little bed in a room with my brother.”

“Oh?” He gasped, “I can get you your own room if you’d like?”

“No, it’s alright he will just come stay in my room anyway,”

He nodded, “Well, you’re always welcome to come cuddle in my bed,”

“I can?”

“Of course, you can,” He smiled, “Come here,” he smiled pouting his lips,

She giggled and closed the gap between them, and pressed her lips to his.

He happily kissed back and wrapped his arms softly around her waist as they shared soft and tender kisses. When they pulled back he smiled smugly and dreamy-eyed. “How about you come here?” he cooed tapping his chest suggestively,

“Really?” She blushed,

“Yeah, come on, come here.” He smiled,

Without even hesitating Y/n came closer and laid her head on Telemachus’ chest. Her cheek against his peck, her hand against his stomach. Telemachus happily rested his cheek against her head, one hand wrapped around her and set his hand softly on the soft fabric of her nightgown on her waist. While the other settled into her hair and stroked softly through her hair. He sighed happily as he felt so warm and content with her in his arms.

“This is perfect,”

“Mhm,” she agreed,

“I feel so much better when you’re in my arms,” He smiled, “So perfect, so utterly whole.”

“As do I.” She sighed happily, “Like I’m home.”

“Home.” He nodded, “You are my soul’s home, Y/n.”

She nodded, “And you are mine Telemachus.” she smiled,

He smiled and pressed a kiss to her forehead, “Y/n?” He whispered,

“Ummm?” she hummed,

“I want you to meet my mother, the queen.”

“You do?”

“Of course I do,” He smiled, “I want to marry you, I want you to be my wife and queen. So you should meet my mother.”

“I’d be delighted, Telemachus.”

“Perfect,” He cooed kissing her forehead again,

The two nestled together on the bed, wrapped in soft, warm sheets. They chatted easily, their voices a gentle murmur that filled the cozy room, as the glow from the fireplace flickered around them. They exchanged thoughts about the little things—plans for the meeting tomorrow, whimsical ideas for their wedding day, and dreams of a future filled with laughter and love. Each topic flowed seamlessly into the next, sparking joyful laughter and light-hearted debates. As the night wore on, they shared their hopes for a house filled with family and love. The hours slipped away unnoticed until, finally, exhaustion settled in. With their hearts full and spirits high, they succumbed to a peaceful slumber, enveloped in each other's arms.