#this is a little thank you for your friendship and endless support!

[appalachiancowboy99]

After Dark

Arthur Morgan x CurvyFem!Reader Established relationship, high honor, grumpy Arthur in desperate need of release, 18+, MDNI (Minors DO NOT ENTER)

Arthur comes back to camp later than usual, with nothing but a bad disposition and a desperate need to release his pent-up frustrations.

Warnings: longer read, sexual content (oral, unprotected p in v, rough sex), mentions of violence, mentions of anger, and dabbles in sensual fluff.

Gif by: @sunwingsunset

A/N: Thank you so much to @photo1030 for not only being my sounding board in the never-ending chaos that is my writing process but also for being such a wonderful friend through it all. So grateful for you, don't know what I'd do without ya, C! <3 Thank you so much to @rivetingrosie4 for being an inspiration for my little works and being so supportive of my creative endeavors, not to mention the kind generosity of your friendship! Forever grateful for to have met you! @tortureddpoett I'm so excited to explore this budding friendship with you! Thank you so much for showing so much excitement for my work, IT MAKES ME EXCITED (EEP!). It means an absolute ton to me <3 @mr-inkslinger your friendship has been an absolute delight to explore! Thank you for posting that toe-curling smut that always has me giggling and kicking my feet! So happy to have met ya! And thank each and every single one of you for liking my first drabble and expressing interest in this next one. I'm so sorry it's taken me forever to publish this post, but hopefully, the next ones won't take me as long. I'll forever be grateful for your patience and kindness <3 But now, enough of my babbling, y'all enjoy yourselves with this one- I know I did ;)

Fuck. From the second he opened his eyes, he knew that the day was going to be fucking awful; his neck had a crick in it, his head was pounding from what little sleep he’s received over the last few nights, and now he had to trudge back out into the goddamn muggy heat to work. One disaster after another had piled up; everything that could have gone wrong, went so terribly awry that he wound up farther away from camp than he originally intended and managed to add a solid fifteen-dollar bounty to the mounting collection resting atop his head. Dutch had sent him out on a wild goose chase, following a lead from Micah that, of course, ended up being a complete waste of time. And that meant he was coming back to camp empty-handed, which almost certainly meant he'd be on the receiving end of another one of Dutch's lectures on the endless responsibilities placed upon his shoulders. He dreaded it, wanted to avoid spiraling down another conversation that would end in Dutch questioning his faith in the ever-evolving plan he’s found himself working on these days.

As if he needed any of that horseshit tonight. All he wanted was a moment of peace and quiet, a chance to catch his breath after the disaster of a day he'd just had, but instead, he was headed back to camp with nothing but bruises, a bloody lip, and a bad disposition to show for his efforts. Trees and other bits of scenery whipped by in a blur as Arthur spurred his horse onward, his surroundings melting together into a muddy mess of shapes cast by moonlight. He passed through New Hanover, his furious pace leading him down the familiar roads of Lemoyne, reaching the clearing outside of camp. Lenny and John are the first to spot Arthur approaching the thicket of trees disguising Clemens Point's main entrance. “Hey, who goes there?” Lenny’s voice echoes through the forest, bouncing off the thicket until it reaches Arthur’s ears.

“‘S me.” Arthur grunts out through gritted teeth, clearly not in the mood for any chit-chat. Even underneath the shadow of leaves and limbs, the scowl etched upon his face is easily distinguishable, a clear sign for anyone with any common sense to give him a wide berth for the rest of the night. Lenny and John, both, had a pretty good idea of what might happen when Arthur steps foot into camp and they don't want any part of it. As a result, they give each other a little knowing glance and stay in the treeline, preferring to avoid the impending shitstorm and let Dutch or Hosea deal with it instead. He strides past them in a fit of frustration, dismounting his mare with a jerky movement before she's even come to a complete stop. Kieran spots him and hesitantly approaches. That poor fool. "H-Hey, Mr. Morgan. Would ya like me to unsaddle the 'ol gal here?" Kieran's question was nothing more than an innocent query, but his expression turned the young man into a nervous wreck. If looks could kill, Arthur’s certainly could; his steely eyes are set ablaze with annoyance and irritation as he casts a hateful glance in Kieran's direction. Even Kieran knew better than to talk to Arthur when he was in this state, knowing that it would only lead to suffering at the hands of his unbridled wrath. Kieran’s eyes immediately darted to his feet, desperate to avoid Arthur’s icy gaze as his fingers trembled with the frayed ends of rope in his hands. Quickly as to not start any trouble for himself, Kieran took hold of the mare's reigns and led her away to the field of horses, putting as much distance between himself and Arthur as he could. A slight pang of guilt runs through him when he sees the way that Kieran high-tailed it out of his line of sight. He doesn't want to be harsh to the boy, he's been a useful asset to the gang, but his temper is just too far gone for him to muster up an apology. As fast as the angering thoughts snapping through his mind, Arthur turns on his heels and storms into camp in search of Dutch. His boots furiously hit the grass and reddened Lemoyne dirt as he passes by a few of the wandering eyes from those still awake at this late hour. Charles casts him a wary glance, and so does Sadie, but neither of them cares to look long enough to entertain what's about to happen. He passes by his own wagon and heads straight to Dutch's tent. Dutch is nowhere to be seen, yet the lamp light inside casts its soft golden glow upon the closed canvas flaps of the tent, indicating that he might be inside. Not wasting any more time than he has to, Arthur approaches the tent, not bothering to stop and think until it's too late. His hand raises, readying to peel back the canvas flap, when all of a sudden he hears the sweet amorous sounds of lovemaking echo through the night air.  Molly’s sweet voice gasps out between each movement of their squeaking cot, calling out for Dutch as the unmistakable sound of skin slapping skin penetrates through the thin canvas walls, revealing exactly what’s occupying Dutch’s time tonight.

“Oh, Dutch. Don’t stop,” she encourages through strained, unabashed moans of pleasure. Dutch’s deep, husky voice murmurs back something unintelligible, but the increased squeaking of their bed and the filthy little noises coming from Molly are a clear indicator that Arthur should be stepping away to give them some privacy. Embarrassment washes over him, causing a faint rosy flush to heat his face and bloom across his cheeks. For once, he's grateful for the distraction from his current frustration. On most nights, he'd find comfort in your presence, seeking you out to vent his grievances as a distraction from the ever-present aggravation that seemingly follows him around these days. But tonight, he just wants to retreat to his tent, away from everything and everyone, to try to calm down before he says or does something he regrets.

He strides past the dying campfires and tables that are askew from daily camp activities, and his mind tirelessly races from thought to thought, stealing his attention away from his surroundings. If Arthur had even bothered to look, he would have spotted your sleeping form laid out upon his bed the moment he stepped inside. You had been waiting for him all evening. After working yourself to the bone doing laundry, dinner prep, and other camp chores for Ms. Grimshaw all day long, you wandered your way over to Arthur’s tent in search of a quiet place to sit. Part of you wished to find him seated right there on his cot, wanting to simply have a conversation with the man who has stolen your heart, but to your disappointment, he wasn’t anywhere to be found. So, you waited for him.. And waited until the very idea of waiting became too tiresome and you unknowingly fell asleep.

Sneaking away from the gang for private talks with him has been one of your favorite things to do since you joined the gang so long ago. Y'all have always had a knack for avoiding the company of others. But somehow in the midst of squirreling yourselves away, both of you have come to find that you'd prefer being alone together. Eventually, this led to many nights where Arthur would seek you out just to speak his mind, allowing you to see the world through his eyes for a short while. You have not only embraced Arthur's thoughts, but in doing so, you have captured his heart all the same. If it weren't for you, he's certain he'd have lost his damn sanity long ago.

Arthur takes that dusty old gambler's hat off his head and runs his fingers through his hair, taking a moment to calm himself down. His eyes glance over the things laid out upon his bedside table before catching a glimpse of your figure awash by the pale moonlight in his periphery. Your hair is sprawled out over the small blanket you've rolled up into a makeshift pillow; curls flowing like a roaring waterfall, laying a mess, and finally free from the bun that was atop your head earlier in the day. His eyes rake over your voluptuous figure, noting every dip and curve from your plump waist and hips to the ample swell of your breast hidden by a layer of clothing. The moment his mind registers that your presence isn't a dream, his eyes soften and his mind no longer races with anger. You are his peace, the only thing in this world that he cherishes above all else. 

Sighing softly, he finally discards his hat from his hand and places it onto his nightstand before working off his worn leather jacket and satchel, resting them on the back of the chair nearest his shaving mirror. And while he's on his feet, he takes the time to carefully roll down the canvas walls of his tent, unraveling them with the quiet precision of a mouse, and securing them in a few simple knots to hide you two away from the world.

It's quite dark by the time he wanders over to the cot, dark enough not to notice himself brush against your legs as he takes a seat on the edge of the old creaking bed. The familiar, welcomed-warmth of his body pressing against your shins rouses you from your restful slumber. Your eyes flutter open to find his figure perched next to you, shrouded in a darkness so thick that you are sure you're still dreaming. His head and broad shoulders are slumped over as he begins working off his dusty boots, caked with remnants of mud and manure.

"Hmm... Arthur?" Your voice floats through the quiet darkness, laden with fatigue and clearly carrying the lassitude of someone who could fall back asleep at the drop of a hat.

He quickly glances over his shoulder at the sound of your voice, his eyes already adjusted enough to the shadows to see your tired face staring back at him with confusion. He silently curses himself for waking you. "Shhh, Darlin'. Don't wake up on my account. I'll be done in just a minute," Arthur lightly grunts out the last word as he struggles to remove his right boot.

Even in your own weary state, the exhaustion in his tone isn't lost on you. Thinking it best to rouse yourself as quickly as possible to free up his bed for him, you sit yourself up and will yourself awake with a slight stretch. "'S okay. You need rest more 'n me."

"No. You was restin' 'fore I got here. Go 'head and lay back down." He isn't having any of your courtesy tonight. He's worn out, far too tired to argue with you about whether or not it's appropriate for you to share his bed for the night.

The rest of the gang, aside from John, Abigail, Susan, and Hosea know nothing about the true nature of y'all's relationship. Although, the rest of the girls have picked up on the changes you've brought about in Arthur since your arrival so long ago now. Seeing him get all soft and doey-eyed at you over these last few weeks has most definitely tipped them off about what y'all really get up to when you're out running errands together. But they catch wind of you sleeping in his tent tonight, it will all but confirm their suspicions. And yet, you just can't bring yourself to move from the comfort of Arthur's cot with him sitting so close to you.

"What time is it?" The question falls from your lips, carried on the soft currents of a gentle breeze pushing through the tent flaps. Fine sinewy muscles flex beneath his shirt as he leans over to work off his other boot and you are powerless to admire the shape of his body beneath.

A muffled grunt escapes his mouth the moment he finally frees his aching feet from the confines of his boots, "Late," he simply replies.

You take a deep, cleansing breath, allowing the tranquility of the night to settle around you like a soft, comforting blanket. Outside these walls, no sounds of chatter or lively activity can be heard, aside from the gentle hum of crickets by the riverbank and the faint sounds of a squeaking cot stopping abruptly. The gang is unusually quiet, the air filled with repose now that Arthur's returned safely to you. Only a few stragglers tend to the campfires, their focus solely on themselves, interested in anything beyond the flickering flames; not even the sounds of Dutch and Molly or Arthur's irritation can disrupt the peaceful bubble encompassing Clemen's Point tonight.

The plush heel of your palm rubs over one of your eyes as you flit them toward the tent entrance, watching how the wind slightly ruffles the bottom of the canvas. It's only then that you realize that Arthur has tied down the walls for privacy on your account. Normally, he wouldn't bother setting up the walls before collapsing on the cot for a few restless hours of sleep. But tonight, he's gone out of his way to ensure your comfort. Your heart couldn't feel any more full of love for this man by your side, a man who puts your well-being above all else, even above his own. Never did you think that love would have been like this for you: sitting in the comfortable silence of privacy for lovers when that luxury is rarely afforded for women like you. But despite your gratitude for his thoughtfulness, a pang of guilt gnaws at you knowing he made the extra effort while you took up residence in his bed, a cot that's barely big enough for the two of you given your plump frame.

In an attempt to make up for taking up so much space, you roll yourself forward along the thin mattress and quickly slide past him, crawling toward the foot of his bed where his trunk of clothing is kept. You've decided to give him his space for the night, even though in your heart, you'd prefer to stay. Before your foot even slides off the trunk to touch the soft grass below, you're reminded of John stopping by Arthur's tent earlier in the day.

Through a half yawn, you speak, not giving Arthur the chance to catch-on to where you're headed, "'Fore I forget: John stopped by while you was out."

Arthur slightly leans back as his fingertips mindlessly fumble with the buckle of his gun belt. The slight clicking of the metal rings out as he works to remove the clunky accessory from his body. His strong back brushes against you as he moves with the comfortable ease he's come to enjoy over these last few weeks of secretly being yours.

"What about it?" His concentration is split half between himself and the presence of your body behind him.

Your words don't register in his mind until he's completely removed the belt from his body. He figures it was that stagecoach job he reluctantly handed off to John; it had completely slipped from his mind until this very moment, much like yourself. The cool metal filigree atop his trunk moves under your feet as you rest them just shy of slipping off its edge, causing the hazy memory to play out behind your tired eyes.

-

You were just settling yourself in, resting your weary body on the edge of Arthur's cot, just as you're doing now. Little beads of sweat accumulated on your forehead from working out in the intensity of Lemoyne's miserably humid heat. Grimshaw had you and the rest of the women working on camp chores, which you hadn't complained of, since it usually occupies the time until Arthur's usual return. However, the day was far too hot for you to not complain about the harsh conditions she had y'all in. Eventually, evening came and you were finally finished with the laundry, allowing you a moment's rest to seek out the comfort of Arthur's cot.

In the midst of wiping your brow down with one of his neckerchiefs you'd secretly swiped, the hard thump of boots hitting grass caught your attention. You'd anticipated Arthur's arrival, but something didn't feel quite right. The boots didn't move with Arthur's measured stride; they scuffed the grass and dirt, signaling a different, but familiar presence. The moment you look up, you spot John standing at the entrance of the tent, not at all surprised to see you sitting upon his cot as if it were your own.

For a brief moment, his brow furrowed in a mix of frustration and exhaustion. It was as if he was caught between the two warring emotions, each pulling him equally. Clearly, he expected Arthur to be back already.

"He not back yet?" The gruffness of his voice has you believe the former, rather than the latter.

"Not yet," you say in kind, hoping to ease some of his burden. "Was you needin' him for somethin'?"

John did and the news certainly wasn't going to sit well with Arthur at all.

-

When the thoughts finally coalesce within your fatigued mind, you internally grimace knowing that Arthur isn't going to like the reality of the situation. Gentleness has always been your strong suit, especially when it came to dealing with half of the bull-headed men in camp. So, you lace your words with the softest tone you can manage, "Said it weren't as much as y'all had planned on: about fifty-dollars tied up in what little him 'n Charles found."

And you were right. The news doesn't sit well with him at all. All of the compiled frustration of working a nothing-lead and now knowing that the other job didn't pay well either boils beneath the surface of his skin until he explodes like a whistling kettle. Preventing himself from lashing out at you, Arthur kicks his boot toward the other side of the tent, knocking it into the chair. The loud thunk of its sole hitting wood claps harshly and causes you to flinch, startling you fully awake from the suddenness of noise and his movement.

"Every goddamn day it's some shit," he spits through his teeth.

Although you know he'd never intentionally hurt you, the anger in his voice sends a cold shiver down your spine and your stomach flips and churns in knots. Usually, you'd blame yourself, reprimanding your big mouth for even opening up to mention something that you knew wouldn't bode well for his weary mind. But you're in too much of a shock to even consider self-deprecation as an option. Your wide eyes search through the darkness, watching the shadowed outline of the man you love heave in a deep breath to steal his nerves. His shoulders slump forward and head hangs low as he rests his elbows on his knees, utterly defeated from the compiled anger and exhaustion coursing through him.

It's at this moment that you remember the job Dutch sent him on earlier in the day; Arthur didn't want to go and had very little sleep after working on yet another lead that barely got them anywhere. If it had been left up to you, you would've made Arthur stay right here in this bed to get some rest like he deserves. You would've taken care of him so tenderly, but, as usual, what Dutch wanted would have far outweighed any of your concerns. You've learned to recognize the pattern of these situations by now, and given Arthur's aggression, assuming that today's job didn't go quite as planned would be hitting the nail right on its head. You test the waters with a quiet question, "Lead didn't pan out today, did it?"

The soft shake of Arthur's head, coupled with the shadow of his palm running over his face tells you all that you need to know: no, it hadn't gotten him any farther than where he had started. Another useless effort. Your heart aches watching him struggle with so much weight on his shoulders. No matter how strong Arthur might be, he's just a man struggling to carry his own burdens, let alone everyone else's. Ever since settling down here, Dutch has placed so much responsibility on him that you've wanted to scold the man for even mentioning Arthur's name in passing. He's worked himself thin and thread-bare, barely having any time for himself outside of the time he spends on the road traveling from place to place at Dutch's convenience.

Empathy for the man that you've fallen in love with so long ago breaks your heart, aching in desperation to relieve some of his pain. Instead of walking away, keeping to yourself, and silently shouldering any of the blame for setting him off, you choose to stay the night. Despite knowing full well that the girls will have their gossip circulating by morning, Arthur's needs are far more important than any snickering comment or playful jest that'll inevitably come your way.

You scoot back where you were and lean toward him with less apprehension than what your words had suggested. Resting your delicate palm between the broad expanse of his shoulders, you feel him tense at the soft slip of your tender touch over his shirt. The tips of your fingers glide over his shoulder and silently take purchase on the taut muscle there. With a gentle, yet firm pull, you coax Arthur back toward you.

"C'mere. Lean back 'n talk to me..." Your dulcet tone pierces through his irritation, encouraging him to rest in your awaiting arms.

Arthur slowly reclines back, allowing himself to unwind in your embrace as his much larger body sits snugly against your plump bosom. Relaxing doesn't come easy for him. Hell, you'd be surprised if it had, given the high tensions between him and Micah these days or the tiresome back and forth between the two rival families in Rhodes. He has every right to be terse and tensed up like a snake ready to strike, but you aim to comfort him even if that means you risk getting bit. Silence hangs in the air between you, aside from the gentle breaths and the occasional strained grunt catching in the back of his throat while he struggles to get comfortable against you, due to the remaining stress insisting on clinging to his tired body. Your loving hands splay out over the firm expanse of his chest, feeling the steady and reassuring thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palms as you try your best to soothe your brooding lover. It's as if your mere presence cracks away at the anger lingering in the stiff tendons and taut plains of muscle along his torso until he relents and finally lets go. His body relaxes back into you as if he were sinking into the plush, luxurious drapery and bedding found in the finest hotels of Saint Denis; much like the bedding of the room he'd paid for the very same night he had whisked you away to bed you properly for your very first time.

He's silent for a long while, almost reluctant to burden you with his troubles. So, you take it up on yourself to start the conversation by spilling what had happened to you earlier in the day, thinking it might earn a laugh or two, "Well, I'm sure my day weren't as rough as your'n," you hum. "But I did fall off the dock, landing my hind-end right in that water."

The image would usually cause a humorous snort to escape him, but the irritation still bristling at his nerves prevents him from reacting with anything else other than a huff of annoyance, "I told ya to watch your footin' out there. Ain't no use to nobody if you get yourself drowned."

Fortunately, as he chides you his words begin to lack much of the anger from moments ago. But you sigh softly anyways, relenting to his incessant need to protect you from life's dangers, despite being able to handle your own, "I know, I know..."

With a few buttons of that old blue work shirt popped open by your deft fingers, the smallest opening there is just big enough to slip your hand inside and rest it up on the soft but wiry hairs at the very center of his chest. "You shoulda seen me, though," you murmur as you lean down toward his ear, lowering your tone as you press your cheek to the side of his head. "Was drenched head to toe, clothes clingin' to me like feathers on a wet chicken."

He sulks, trying to stay mad at anything and everything he can to give into the bristling anger at the back of his mind, but he can't. No, not when he can clearly envision you all soaked and surprised from falling into that cold lake. A faint smile curls up the corners of his lips and then, just as he almost chuckles, he clears his throat, holding his laugh back. However, you catch on far too quickly for him to play it off so easily.

You gasp softly in mock surprise as if offended by the idea of him laughing at you, "Arthur Morgan. Are you laughin' at me?"

That's when his temperament breaks, giving way to the huff of laughter rumbling through his chest. "I ain't laughin' atchu, per say..." he counters. "Just maybe at the thought of what ya mighta looked like comin' up outta that water: madder 'n hell, hair clingin' to your head," and as if to illustrate his point, Arthur reaches his hand backward and turns his head to try and catch a glimpse of you in the thick shadows, barely making your face distinguishable to his eyes, as he brushes his fingertips over the bits of hair clinging to your forehead from the muggy heat.

Though you narrow your eyes in mock annoyance, you lean into his calloused fingertips, accepting the gentleness of his touch while a giggle of your own creeps up into your throat, "Oh? Is 'at so? Maybe next time I find you out on that dock, I'll think 'bout pushin' ya in 'n lettin' you see how it feels."

He huffs out a skeptical breath and raises an eyebrow at the very thought of you even trying something like that with him. It'd be a futile effort and one that you truly wouldn't consider without the clear consequence of him pulling you right down with him.

And just as soon as the laughter came, it was gone again, replaced instead with a comfortable silence that settles between you two once more, giving him some space to think about what's happened to himself today. Long before the days of your arrival, Arthur would keep to himself and dwell on the ever-present burdens troubling his mind, brooding for hours. But with you, he feels a safety that men like him are rarely afforded.

"Well, if ya think fallin' in Flat Iron's bad..." he continues, "Try goin' halfway 'cross the state lookin' for a man that don't exist. Then when ya find someplace to get a drink, ya end up catchin' a few stray hits from some drunken bastard."

A soft gasp enters your lungs at the revelation. Another fight? You lean over his shoulder, reaching to take his scarred chin into your hand. It's hard to see through the inky-black darkness of the night, but even in the haziness, your eyes can make out the bruising along his jaw, the harsh scrapes of knuckles cutting over his cheek, and the jagged cut on his upper lip. It isn't a rare sight to have him come back battered and bruised by some job from time to time, but that still doesn't quell the uneasiness in your heart at him going through such pain and aggravation.

Your eyebrows furrow in sympathy for your rugged cowboy, eyes softening to match as you breathe out, "Oh, Arthur."

He's quick to dismiss your concern with a soft sigh, pulling away from you to lean forward and distract himself from your sympathetic gaze, "Ah, don'tchu go 'n worry yourself over me none, Darlin'."

Being fussed over or thought of so tenderly still isn't something he's used to; he's shown you that time and time again. But it never deters you from trying to make things better, to make things easier on him however you can. Whatever turmoil Arthur's got rolling about in his mind is far from the usual and it takes patience to understand; a patience that he finds only you can give.

You reach your hand out toward him. The delicate ends of your fingertips reach up to brush over the nape of his sun-kissed neck, grazing over the ends of his slightly overgrown hair, silently making a note to yourself that you'll trim it for him tomorrow. His body shuffles slightly backward, leaning in to accept your touch while he slips off his suspenders: pulling them down his shoulders heavy with burden, before taking his time to unbutton that tattered old work shirt you're so used to seeing around his muscular frame.

"'Sides..." he starts. "I did have some good that came from today."

"What's 'at?" you hum softly with a lilt of dryness. "Hittin' that feller back?"

He can't help the chuckle rising in his throat at the dry sarcasm touching your words. Arthur shakes his head softly, "Nah, Darlin', " the last word strains from his lips as he rises to his feet with a groan, leaving the safe comfort of your touch as he stands to undo his pants.

He glances over his shoulder, peering down at you through the darkness with a smirk curling up at the right corner of his mouth. Watching as your sweet eyes follow his every movement, Arthur turns to face you, allowing you to gaze at him as he slowly pushes the brass button through the eyelet at the top of his riding pants. The fabric opens effortlessly, revealing the red cloth of his union suit underneath. The sight of him before you, suspenders hanging loosely on either side of his long legs and his pants aching to be peeled from his strong form has your lips parted in awe at the man standing mere inches away from you.

He continues from just seconds before, "Seein' you laid out on my bed, purdy as a dream."

After stepping out of his pants now crumpled around his ankles, Arthur lowers one knee upon the cot nearest your thighs. He leans over you, using his thick fingers to tilt your chin upward, meeting his crystalline eyes. "Was one helluva sight I could get used to seein'."

The low timbre of his voice sends a shockwave of desire straight through your heart and into the aching pit of your stomach. Your lips draw up into a shy smile, and a faint dusting of pink envelops your cheeks just like the moment you'd first professed your feelings for him under that canopy of trees he led you through so blindly. Although it hasn't been long since that fateful night, the closeness of your relationship has escalated so quickly that your head and heart dizzy at the mere mention of his name.

Arthur's calloused thumb brushes over the supple swell of your bottom lip, enticing you to part them just for him. You comply, of course, unable to resist how a ghost of his touch makes you so pliant beneath him. And when he leans down to meet your lips with his own, your heart swells with tender affection. Those warm, slightly chapped, but pleasantly plush lips are heady as they connect with a passion that stokes the burning coals of desire in the very base of your core.

"Been waitin' to use that one for a while, hmm?" You hum contently while blindly guiding your hands toward the flare of muscle encasing his ribs. God, how you could worship this man and never tire of feeling how warm, how strong he is beneath your palms.

"Depends. It workin'?" He murmurs, smirking cockily against your lips.

Your mind begins to spin as the calloused pad of his thumb dips from your chin and swipes over your jawline. His fingers splay out over the side of your neck, fingertips gripping you with tender passion to hold you in place. He could easily break you, bend you with his finger and thumb as if you were nothing more than a twig beneath his rough and weathered hands. Never have you felt so small and fragile, always knowing in your heart that you took up much more room than other women. But, when you're with Arthur, he makes you feel as delicate as the petals on a beautiful flower, something so precious and worth loving; it's so much more than you'd ever experienced in your whole life. He touches you so tenderly as if you were made from nothing more than ash, a veritable pile of matter waiting to slip through his fingers at any moment.

You want to hum your praises to your lover, to let him know exactly how much you've wanted this, how much you've missed him, how well he's kissing you, touching you... But you can't. There are no words. He's stolen them from you, drawing all the air out of your lungs with his lips, leaving you gasping for the air coated in his divine masculine scent: sweet tobacco, wood ash, and mossy earth. He encompasses you, wrapping one arm around your waist as he pulls you close to his body, all the while shuffling himself forward to join you on the small cot. Your back presses against the hard wooden frame of the wagon making up the other half of his tent. He presses against you, holding you close to his strong body as he slides his right hand from your jaw, trailing it down over the soft skin of your neck, and down to your chest, where he heatedly palms your breast hidden just beneath your blouse. To have him touch you like this, like a man frenzied and dying for a taste of intimacy, has your head spinning and your heart on the verge of exploding if it hadn't already; for all you know, you could've died the moment his lips crashed into yours, and all that's left is a heaven you'd only dreamt of.

A low growl of appreciation rumbles through his chest for the plumpness of your body. Most men do not know the fine pleasures that extra curves on a woman can bring. But Arthur sure does. And oh how he worships your full figure, despite your opinions about yourself. His large, calloused palm shifts his attention to your other breast, kneading you tenderly while his lips work from your mouth, and instead, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses over your jawline and supple neck.

His name is a breathless sigh across your trembling lips as you allow your hands to explore his body in return. Touching over the large expanse of his torso and gliding your fingertips over the worn fabric of his union suit, you desperately search for the button that would bare him wholly to you. In the time it takes you to undo one of his buttons, his skilled fingers undo two of yours. Button after button unthreads upon both of your bodies, though his hands are much quicker at ridding you of your layers, leaving them strewn about on the ground until he's stripped you down and laid you beneath him in nothing more than your chemise and bloomers to conceal your decency. Arthur then crawls over you, his movements deliberate and enticingly slow as he cages you in with his hands pressed into the thin mattress on either side of your head. Shadows danced and shifted restlessly, playing tricks on your perception as you try to focus on what little of Arthur you could see through the haziness, making the absence of light feel alive. To feel him above you like this has your stomach in knots, tightening with a firey passion that's ready to snap at any given moment. Hearts are pounding, thrumming wildly against your ribcages like birds desperate to escape the confines of your chests. You hear it, hear how his breath shutters with each wild thump of his heart, and you feel it in his breath as it puffs over your cheek. He's losing himself to you and you him, slipping so quickly that rational thinking is no longer of use. You need him and he needs you.

The flaps of his union suit hang loosely from his body, allowing your hands to reach in and press flat over his heated skin. He shivers slightly at the contact, his muscles tensing and flexing beneath the tender meeting of your palms placed upon his scarred, goose-pimpled flesh. Your fingertips ghost over a scar on the right side of his ribcage, causing your face to crinkle with sorrow for what hardship your lover, this great outlaw, has had to endure in his lifetime. The damaged tissue is the result of a nasty fight he had as a young man: when someone stabbed him with the broken end of a beer bottle; they had aimed to kill him, but he had survived. The spot still aches with the memory of Hosea digging out the shards of broken glass from the angry, bloodied wound. But somehow, the way your delicate touch brushes over that old scar with such love and care causes the outlaw's skin to tingle, and his cock to ache with the pride of knowing that you love him so.

He takes his time with you here, laid out beneath him like a perfect little thing he's captured and kept safe by hiding you away in the privacy of his tent. After the day he's had, he wants to savor every bit of loveliness he's blessed with in your presence, so he can't rush this with you, not now. Arthur takes his time admiring you, letting his eyes rake over what he's able to see, and feeling what he cannot. Leaning down close enough to your face to capture that seductive glint in your glittering, lust-blown eyes, Arthur searches for any change within them as he maneuvers his right hand away from the mattress to trail along your sensitive flesh. The rough pads of his fingers ghost over your thigh, caressing the plump deposit of flesh along your middle, snaking up over your collarbones, and over your neck in search of your delicate face before sealing your mouth with his own in a kiss so tender you whimper from the initial contact.

Shivers of anticipation roll through him as your body responds to his touch: back arching off the bed, hands pulling on the nape of his neck to hold him down and assure that his lips won't leave yours, and the way your bloomer-clad hips roll upward in search of some much-needed friction. God how he could spend hours with you like this, letting his hands roam over your body to make you shiver and plead for any ounce of affection that he can give you. Your needy state is only exacerbated by the slight tremble in your thighs as he snakes his hands down over the pillowy flesh, seeking out the waistband of your bloomers. Ridding you of the cloth separating your pussy from his line of sight is an easy feat: the clad, slightly damp undergarment peels away from your plump hips with ease at the help of his precision; the Lemoyne heat causes the clothing to stick to your slightly dampened skin, but dammit if the temperature pales in comparison to how heated Arthur makes you feel. He tosses them down onto the ground, and places his hands upon your knees, spreading them apart as he sits above you to admire the feeling of your plump body beneath him.

His hand is unhurried and exacting, gently brushing his calloused knuckles down over your inner thigh, then lightly petting them over your soaked need covered by a soft thatch of hair. He can't see you fully, but that does nothing to stop his mind from envisioning how your cunt glistens with slick, all for him. The moment he presses his fingertips to your seam, parting you with the practiced precision of a lover, he lets a low, ragged breath escape his nose in appreciation for how wet you are. You shiver and instinctively try to close your knees from the pleasant surprise of his touch, and fuck does it feel good to have him brush over your folds like that.

"Always so ready, ain'tchya?" He murmurs, a teasing lilt to his voice as he takes his time in savoring the feeling of your slick upon his fingertips.

Your hips involuntarily twitch, bucking upward into his hand, seeking out his fingertips to make him swirl them over your aching little clit. You want him to touch you right where you need him, feel him right on that little spot upon that nub of nerves that makes your mind swirl and your body careen into a blissful orgasm. But he doesn't give that to you, not yet. He wants to work you over slowly, savoring every little sound he can draw out of those pretty lips. You're far too shy to answer him directly, instead favoring to cover your face with your forearms as he takes pleasure in taunting you like this. But the moment his fingertips threaten to part your folds, you let out a delicate little noise, someplace between a whine and a prayer to let him know that you're in no mood to endure his teasing tonight, "Arthur... Please."

Oh, how he loves to hear the sound of you begging; he's already half-hard at the idea of you wanting his touch, let alone hearing how desperate you are for it. He answers your prayer with a long, smooth stroke of his thumb parting your puffy, wet folds. You keen at how just a simple touch causes your stomach to flutter and your slit to clench around nothing at all. Your thighs, thick with strength, covered by a layer of squishy softness, part for him, relaxing lazily as he guides his thumb over each of your labia.

It was nearly impossible to get you to lay like this for him a few weeks ago; you'd been concerned about the unsightly appearance of your inner thighs: scarred over with dimples and imperfections, as well as the slight discoloration of having them rub together after so many years of being a larger woman. Most women that you've seen naked, don't have the same ailments upon their bodies as you have on yours. Just the other day when bathing with some of the girls in the lake, you'd noticed that even on Karen's body, a woman closer to your size, still didn't have the scars or discoloration across her skin in the same way that you have. And that night that Arthur had you laid out for him for the very first time, he'd noticed that apprehension in you, taking it as having second thoughts. But once you had explained how you felt about your own body, he hadn't even given the idea a single thought; his own body is mauled up, covered in old and ugly scars, and carrying more than three colors from all his time spent out in the sun. So, he couldn't have cared less about some scars, a little extra hair, weight, or even the discoloration over your thighs. What he did care about, however, was making sure that you felt loved in spite of it all. And now, it feels no different. To have you spread your legs for him like this, without a single worry holding you back, is a goddamn treat.

Fuck how good it feels to have the soft press of his thumb tease over your cunt, tracing the delicate path between your weeping entrance, to your swelling bud with a pressure so teasing and light that you squirm to feel more. Your plush lips tuck between your teeth to hold back any sounds that give away what you two are doing in here after dark, but it's useless; the lewd sounds of his thumb circling over your clit echo throughout the tent: a dead giveaway to anyone that dare walk by. Holding your breath like this isn't easy, not when the pounding of your heart echoes in your ears and your chest feels as if it's being seared from the inside out. A ragged gasp finally inhales through your nostrils, desperately trying to fulfill your body's need for air when you can no longer restrain your breaths.

He huffs out a low chuckle in amusement at the state he has you in: clearly desperate and in need to have your clit rubbed just the way you like it.

"Hmm.. Hear that?" He rasps out before going silent, letting you hear the sounds of your own slick being spread over your soaked cunt. He only continues when he finally reaches your clit, circling over the throbbing little nerve-ending to make you sigh out in pleasure for him. "So goddamn wet. All for me."

In a blur of movements, Arthur's chapped lips and teeth skim over your knee, slowly working their way down over your inner thighs. He nips at you, earning a few little squeaks and giggles until he kisses over your plump mound. His thumbs take hold of either side of your cunt, spreading you open to let the night air hit your wet skin. It's pleasant like this, to feel yourself spread out beneath him like a meal ready to be devoured and dammit if he ain't starved for a taste. Being eaten out has quickly become one of your favorite acts of intimacy in recent weeks; his tongue is so skilled at finding spots on you, making you come so deliciously, that most days it's all you've been able to think about. Hell, it's all you're thinking about now as his head sinks down to your core and his hot breath fans out over your aching need. His tongue slips out of that perfect mouth and flattens out over your seam, lapping at you once to earn him that little sigh of pleasure escaping your throat.

Your hands immediately seek out his head, combing through his slightly sweat-dampened hair as he swirls the blunt tip of his tongue over your clit.

"A-Agh, Arthur.. N-Not so fast," you whine out in protest, yet your hips bucking up into his mouth says otherwise. But he relents, nonetheless, giving you a moment of reprieve before he delves back in at the same pace.

He's aiming to make you cum quick and hard: slithering his tongue over your clit with the precision of knowing exactly what side and spot makes you writhe beneath him. Just left and then a little upward beneath that little hood of skin and he has you singing for him. Explicitves roll off your tongue one after another in between sweet little sounds that praise him for what effort he's putting in just for you. To hear you, feel you crumble beneath him like this is better than any robbery or score he gets out on the road. But just before he lets you come, he pulls his head back slightly and puffs cool air over your clit, making you whine.

"Shh.. Shh.. 'M gonna let ya cum, Darlin'. Don'tchu worry 'bout that none. 'M gonna take real good care of ya," he hums lowly as his lips and bristly scruff brush over your quivering inner thighs.

His promise isn't far off from fulfillment, not when he sinks his tongue into your heat and presses his opened mouth over the entirety of your cunt. He sucks hard, feeling your walls constrict around the wriggling muscle of his tongue as he laps inside your spongey center. Your thighs tremble with need as he fucks you with his mouth and slurps up your slick, drinking in as much of you as he can and relishing the tangy sweetness of your delectable taste. You throw your head back against the rolled-up blanket you had been using as a pillow earlier in the night, all while he eats you out like a man who's desperate to consume you.

But the aching throb of his cock, constricted by the thin fabric of his union suit, is far too angry for him to ignore. He's got to have you, now.

As he shuffles back up to his knees, leaving your cunt longing to cum on his tongue, you flutter your eyes open and snap your head up to try and catch a glimpse of what he's doing. Clearly, you ain't pleased with him teasing you like this, but when you feel his fervent movements, you realize that he's trying to work off his union suit. He wastes no time it peeling it away from his torso, but the moment he starts to tug it down his thighs, allowing his weeping cock to spring free, he nearly topples over and just about slams head-first into your body. Thankfully, he catches himself in the knick of time, grunting out a few curses as he grows impatient with his incapability to slide that damn fabric off his legs.

Amid his struggle to bare himself, you can't hide the giggle creeping up your throat as he curses under his breath, frustrated with how the fabric insists on clinging to his muscular legs. You help him slide the old red union suit off his body by digging your heels against the back of his thighs and pushing it down the long length of his legs until it reaches his ankles. The undergarment hangs loosely off his feet, causing him to kick it haphazardly off the side of the bed, letting it fall onto his trunk to skirt down on the grass below.

The instant his turgid length brushes over your inner thigh it twitches with the anticipation of feeling your tight, wet walls clamped around him, milking every drop of spend nestled away in his balls; spend that he so desperately wishes he could drain right inside of you. For now, however, just a single brush of your fingertips against him is enough. He has to hold his breath as he guides your delicate palm over his velvety shaft to stroke the needy ache away; if he isn't careful, he'd cum just like this. He hisses, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth as your fingers wrap around him and your thumb seeks out the weeping slit of his blunt tip. Arthur is, by no means, a small man: his legs are long, torso strong and wide, feet and hands are like bear paws, and his cock.. God, his cock is big. You could use both of your hands to stroke him and still, there'd be enough room for his tip to be entirely untouched. But you make sure as you stroke him with one hand, you pay extra attention to his tip, smearing his drooling precum over as much of him as you can, even down to the dark and wiry curls along his base and balls.

He's trying so hard to hold himself back, but with each tender pass of your thumb over that sweet spot along the underside of his tip, the last remnants of his patience crack away. You feel him crumbling like this, crumbling into a frenzied mess of low-hummed breaths and grunts through gritted teeth, and you fucking love it. Before you can even think about the desire roaring in the cavernous pit of your stomach, aching to be quelled, he smashes his lips into yours so hard that you're sure one of you is bleeding. The pain of his busted lip splitting back open is an angry reminder of the frustration still lingering at the back of his mind; he's as tensed up, pent-up, as a taut rope ready to snap.

With a quick movement, he swats your hand away, preventing you from jacking him into a fast climax. Then, in one swift motion, he grabs hold of your thighs and forcefully yanks you toward him, making the round swell of your plump ass plant firmly against the hard front of his strong body. Your thighs spread out, squishing over and conforming to the contour of his hips, the intimate contact leaving you both ragged and breathless. Your heart drums a frantic rhythm in your ears, drowning out all other thoughts and sensations that belong to you alone. It's as if your mind has descended into a tangled web of strangled noises and glorious sensations that only Arthur seems able to untangle or soothe. The faint outline of his body nestled between your thighs is a constant reminder that nothing beyond this moment, beyond him hidden away with you inside of this tent, matters.

The hard length of his turgid pride parts your folds, gliding over the slick thatch of curls usually concealing your cunt from his eyes, but with his sight hindered, he can explore every single nook, roll, and crevice without you shying away. His weight bares down on you as he holds your legs into the crook of his arms, nearly bending you in half as he drags his cock over your seam. It feels so good like this, even though you can hardly breathe with the thickness of your thighs pressing against your already plump stomach, but when the tip of his cock knocks into your clit, it makes the strained pain well worth it. The back of your hand flies over your mouth as he continues on like this, pleasuring himself and you with each agonizingly slow thrust. Hearing your ragged, strangled half-breaths, he releases your thighs, leaving them to splay out lazily on either side of his hips as he leans down to steal a tender kiss.

Upon breaking his lips away from yours, the low hum of his voice finds its way through the haziness of your lust-broken mind as he murmurs against the shell of your ear, "Gonna take ya just like this..."

Chapped lips skim over your jawline and trail to your lips, where he gives you another tender kiss filled with gentle affection: polar opposite to the rough sex-driven outlaw you've gotten a taste of tonight, but aligning perfectly with the man you fell in love with all those years ago. Scraped knuckles skim against your slick heat as he slips his hand in between you both and presses flat over the thick, dark curls at the base of his throbbing length. His fingers spread wide over his pubic bone, holding his cock between his middle and ring finger, stiffening himself outward to seek out your clenched entrance. With a slight pullback of his hips, he guides himself to your slit, catching right on the taut muscle before pressing forward and splitting you open.

A soft cry hums in the back of your throat and he shushes you so tenderly, sliding his hands over your knees and down your shins to soothe the ache he knows you're feeling. You're so fucking tight, hardly different from the first night he took you and bedded you properly back at the Saint's Hotel. It nearly shatters him when your walls flutter around him, squeezing and pulling him in inch by inch as if you were carved out just for him to sink into. He stills only for a short moment, letting you feel him nestled up against your cervix before he slides himself out and enters you again with a sharp snap of his hips. Lingering anger and frustration from the shit day he's had still pulsates at the back of his mind, desperate to be released as the tension in his body rises.

The tight walls of your cunt clench onto him for dear life as jolts of pleasure and pain rack through your body.

Behind the shield of your palm, you cry out, "A-Agh, Arthur!"

You're trying your best to be quiet, to still your ragged breaths and hide your whimpers, but he's making it incredibly difficult. Each slow drag of his cock coming out of you with a satisfying pop, only to pierce you with a hard roll of his hips, sends you reeling. You're seeing stars, shaking from the pleasurable burn of the passionate fire he's stirring within you. Strong hands grip your hips, keeping you still as his thrusts guide you into a steady rhythm that makes the old wooden frame creak and groan with every subtle and sharp movement that your bodies make. Being discreet has left his mind entirely, no longer concerned with what sounds are coming out of his tent as he fucks you good and proper. No, he couldn't care less when the sounds of your slick pussy squelches as he presses himself flush against you and groans against the pulse point of your neck.

"Don't want ya hidin' them purdy sounds, Darlin'. Let 'em out for me," he grunts out between slow but hard thrusts.

Usually, intimacy like this is savored in the shaking breaths and whispered little sounds only audible to your ears, but tonight... Tonight Arthur is something else entirely. Primal. A damn, dirty outlaw. You love this new view of him, but you can't allow yourself to let the others hear. What if someone were walking by? Or Hosea or Dutch hear you two going at it? You wouldn't be able to look at them for a week! But he doesn't give you much choice in the matter: snaking his hand down between your bodies, his muscular forearm presses against your plush belly while his thumb immediately finds your clit.

"O-Oh, God," you whine as the pad of his thumb circles over you, followed by his name dripping off your tongue like the sweetest honey. "At's it... Such a good girl takin' me so deep. Mmm.. Gonna cum 'round me ain'tchu? Gonna give me a real good one, baby?"

God damn him if his mouth ain't filthy. The way he croons out those little praises and words of encouragement has your climax building faster than you ever could have anticipated. And the swirling of his thumb? It has you shaking, whining, pleading, practically begging for your release as he talks you through it, "C'mon, Darlin'... I feel ya squeezin' me real tight," he praises, "'At's it. Focus on me."

With one more swipe of his thumb over your sensitive clit and his cock hitting that sweet spot right against your cervix, you're tensing, digging your heels into the thin mattress, and cumming around him so hard that you see white. It takes everything in you not to scream, but the strangled sound coming out of you is loud enough to warrant some head-turning if anyone were awake. The moment your walls flutter and start milking him, he falls forward and drops down onto his elbows to cage you in. His thrusts are relentless as he takes his anger out on you in this way, using every movement of his body to release the bristling anger clutching onto his mind like a damn vice grip. No matter how fervent and frenzied, he's still careful not to hurt you, always thinking about how good he's making you feel while chasing his own release.

Arthur isn't a man of many words, but when you're gripped around him like this, clutching him with your arms, legs, and your fluttering pussy, he is downright mouthy. "Oh, such a good girl for listenin' to me. Shh.. Shh. I gotchu, baby. I gotchu."

His mouth hovers over yours, claiming your lips as he kisses you hard and possessively. Moans spill out of you, traveling through the expanse of his throat until it hums within his chest and he echoes one back. To talk like this with him, in a language only two lovers could understand, is far more intimate and pleasurable than anyone could ever know. Arthur is yours and you are his, no ownership or proprietary claim, but just the pleasant knowledge that both of you choose to love each other is enough.

With a few more rolls of his hips, he's nearing his own orgasm: length twitching and engorging as his balls tighten. In desperation, he quickly climbs off of you and pulls his cock out from your core. His right hand tightens into a fist around himself, and although you can't see it, you hear the lewd, effortless slide of his hand vigorously pumping over his tip like his life depends on cumming for you.

Finally, his orgasm hits him, working its way out of his tightened balls and spurting over your plump mound and belly. If he could see his spend on you like this, it'd be enough to make him cum all over again. But both of you are far too exhausted to even consider that so soon. You're still shaking, panting heavily as he lowers himself down onto you, not caring that his sticky spend is now covering the front of his body as well, as your sweaty bodies come down from such an enormous height.

His touch traces a slow, deliberate path down your leg until his fingertips reach the softness of your hip, where he gives your flesh a gentle but firm grasp. Reveling in the smoothness of your skin and the feel of your curvy form beneath his palm, he lets out a slow exhale through his nose. The heat of his breath spills over your neck and shoulder, doubled by the heavy breaths leaving his lips as he lazily peppers your clammy skin with kisses.

After a long stretch of quiet spent nestled into his hair, breathing in the comforting remnants of campfire intermingled with his musky scent, your breathing finally begins to steady. Slowly, your senses return to you one by one, like pieces of a puzzle falling back into place. Shock and disbelief jolt through your entire being as it finally hits you how easily he manipulated your body with his own strength and skill as a lover. You'd heard of men being rough with women, but never did you think it could be this pleasurable.

Your voice finally cuts through the relative silence, carrying a deep sense of satisfaction and astonishment with it, "Wh-here in the hell did that come from?"

An amused chuckle rumbles inside his chest, slightly huffing out of his nose as he slightly pushes himself off of you to gauge your reaction, "Reckon I were a little pent up. Why? You like it?"

To say you liked it was an understatement, but you'd like anything as long as Arthur were right there with you to experience it just the same. While his right hand slides up over the plump contours of your body, appreciatively grabbing at the plushness of your stomach and breasts, he lovingly brushes a few stray strands of hair off your forehead stuck there by the sweat covering your body. You hum softly in agreement to his question, deciding that you did enjoy this different side of him you hadn't respected, despite his rough exterior.

"Mhmm.. 'S always good with you," the loving words you murmur cling to his heart and earn you a pleasant kiss that tastes like the remnants of his busted lip.

As his lips trail back down over your jawline, his beard delightfully scratches over your sensitive skin, causing you to hum in appreciation for him loving you like a man who worships the very ground you walk upon. Your own body follows his lead, fingertips glide down the entire length of his back, tracing the contour of muscle that hint at the immense strength lurking beneath. You can't help but marvel at his shape, this man you love so dearly, and how his body was molded for love and carved from such a hard life. While your fingertips glide across his muscled frame, you can feel the subtle shift of his body as he adjusts himself on top of you, notricebly more relaxed than before: a clear testamanet to the calming eddect your touch has on him.

Curiosity peaked, you murmur, "You relaxed now?" as your fingertips idly trace the two little dimples that grace the base of his spine, just above the firm and muscular curve of his ass.

An amused smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, obviously enjoying the path your fingertips are carving out over his back. He'd never admit it, but he loves it when you grab him unabashedly, palming his ass like he so often does to you. The warmth of his cock brushing over your leg, hardening much faster than he expected for a man his age, tells you all you need to know.

He agrees with you, humming softly against your chest as he inches himself down to where his mouth hovers over the plump swell of your breasts, "Thinkin' that we just might need a little more time for relaxin', don'tchu?"

A/N: Big thanks for the divider from @saradika-graphics and the beautiful gif from @sunwingsunset, please go send them some love for their work! <3

Other creators that expressed interest and drew inspiration from: @subpopizzy , @cassietrn , @coltermorning , @redwritr, @zae-heeyyy, @twola , @amorgansgal

Please do go check all the blogs I tagged! You surely won't be disappointed!

As always, sending my love - M. <3

[hoshifighting]

Soccer Player! Reader, Soccer Player! Jeonghan - Enemies to Lovers

— Synopsis: Once inseparable childhood friends, their bond takes an unexpected turn when you start dating in middle school. Jeonghan's behavior becomes increasingly erratic, transforming him from a supportive friend to a constant source of annoyance. Now, in college, the tables turn, but Jeonghan remains a delightful pain in the ass as old flames are rekindled in the midst of playful banter and undeniable attraction. — WC: 6.6k — WARNINGS: smut, reader get pissed asf and beat Jeonghan's ass, unprotected sex, chocking, hair pulling, mentions of violence and aggression, oral (f. receiving), clit stimulation, finger sucking and etc.

In the sprawling grounds of your childhood, Jeonghan and you were inseparable. You spent endless afternoons kicking a worn-out soccer ball around, dreaming of the day you'd play together on the same team. You'd laugh, plan silly pranks, and talk about everything under the sun. But things changed when you started dating someone in middle school.

It was innocent, a fluttering crush that led to hand-holding and stolen glances. It wasn't meant to come between Jeonghan and you, but it did. Suddenly, his jokes turned sharper, the shoulder bumps felt like intentional jabs, and he even started bending the rules during games at frat parties. It felt like he was retaliating for your decision, and you couldn't understand why.

Confused and hurt by the sudden change, you distanced yourself from Jeonghan, and the friendship that had weathered the storms of childhood slowly faded away. The once inseparable duo became strangers, and you never got a chance to ask him what went wrong.

Years later, in the hallowed halls of college, your paths crossed again. Both of you were now dedicated athletes, pursuing your passion for soccer at the collegiate level. Your common friends couldn't help but notice the peculiar dynamic between you and Jeonghan. They often questioned why he treated you the way he did.

The setting sun cast long shadows across the soccer field as you and your friends left the practice session, laughter and banter filling the air. The atmosphere was light, and the camaraderie among teammates was palpable. Little did you know, the calm before the storm was just around the corner.

As you approached the locker room, still basking in the post-practice glow, you suddenly stumbled over someone's soccer cleats. Before you could hit the ground, Seungkwan, one of Jeonghan's friends, swiftly caught you, preventing a potential fall. Confused, you looked around and noticed Jeonghan standing nearby, a sly smirk playing on his lips.

The exchange didn't go unnoticed by your friends and Jeonghan's group. They exchanged glances, the air growing thick with tension. Jeonghan's friends raised questioning eyebrows, seemingly as surprised as your friends.

"Hey, Y/N, you okay?" Seungkwan asked, concern evident in his eyes.

"Yeah, thanks to you," you replied, shooting a pointed look at Jeonghan, who was pretending to be innocent.

Your friends and Jeonghan's friends exchanged puzzled glances, sensing an underlying tension. "What's going on here?" one of your friends asked, breaking the awkward silence.

Before you could respond, another friend chimed in, "And why did Jeonghan just let you stumble like that? Is he okay?"

Jeonghan's friends looked at him, awaiting an explanation. Your friends, on the other hand, turned to you, expecting some clarification.

You took a deep breath, trying to contain your frustration. "I have no idea what's going on with Jeonghan," you said, shooting him a piercing glare. "But it's clear he's up to something, and I'm not in the mood for his games."

Jeonghan feigned innocence, a playful smile still on his face. "Games? Who, me? Nah, I was just standing here minding my own business," he said, shrugging.

Your jaw clenched as you fought the urge to respond. Instead, you turned away, leaving your friends behind, both groups noting the storm brewing within you. The air was thick with tension as you walked away, the unspoken question lingering in the minds of your friends and Jeonghan's group.

The locker room buzzed with excitement as you and your friends prepared for Soonyoung's party. The air was thick with hairspray and the lingering scent of sweat from the day's soccer practice. You sat on the bench, applying moisturizer to your tired legs, the cool cream a welcome relief after a rigorous workout. The dress you had chosen for the evening hung on the nearby hook, and you adjusted its hem, ensuring it fell just right.

As you meticulously prepared for the night ahead, your mind wandered back to Jeonghan's recent antics. A frown creased your forehead, and you let out an exasperated sigh. "I can't believe he pulled that stunt again. What's his problem?" you muttered, your frustration evident in your voice.

Your friend, sitting beside you, glanced up from her own makeup routine. "Jeonghan? What did he do now?" she asked, concern etching her features.

You rolled your eyes, recounting the incident with Seungkwan catching you and Jeonghan's apparent amusement. "He's just being his usual self—playing silly games and trying to get under my skin. It's like he's on a mission to annoy me today," you grumbled, the irritation evident in your tone.

Your friend sighed, setting down her makeup to focus on you. "You know how he is. Don't let him ruin your mood. It's Soonyoung's party, and we're here to have fun," she said, offering you a reassuring smile.

You nodded, appreciating her attempt to calm your brewing frustration. "I know, I know. But sometimes, he just gets on my nerves, and I can't figure out why he's like that."

With a soft chuckle, your friend gently pulled you into a side hug. "Maybe he's just Jeonghan, being Jeonghan. You can't change that, but you can control how you react. Don't let him ruin your night. We're here to dance, laugh, and enjoy. Let's focus on that, okay?"

She then turned her attention to your hair, expertly weaving a simple yet elegant hairstyle. The rhythmic motion of her hands and the comforting presence of your friend helped ease the tension that had built up. You took a deep breath, deciding to take her advice to heart.

"You're right. Let's forget about Jeonghan and have an amazing night," you said, forcing a smile as you shifted your focus back to the excitement of the party ahead.

Soonyoung's house pulsated with music and laughter as you and your friends embraced the vibrant atmosphere of the party. The beats compelled everyone to move, and you found yourself in the center of the makeshift dance floor, swaying to the rhythm with carefree abandon.

Soonyoung, the life of the party, approached you with a mischievous grin. "Y/N, you've got some moves! Are you sure you're not a secret dance prodigy?" he exclaimed, playfully exaggerating his surprise.

You laughed, the music drowning out your response, but you playfully mimed a humble acknowledgment. The two of you danced together for a while, and Soonyoung's infectious energy was contagious, adding to the carefree spirit of the night.

As you grooved to the music, Mingyu, a tall and athletic figure from the men's soccer team, made his way through the crowd towards you. He leaned in to talk in your ear, his voice barely audible over the booming music. "Hey, about the games next week, we're having joint practice sessions for both teams. You'll need to be close to me for some of the drills, okay?" he explained, his warm breath tickling your ear.

You nodded in agreement, giving him a thumbs up to signal that you understood the plan for the upcoming practices. Mingyu smiled and excused himself, disappearing back into the crowd.

Just as you turned to share the news with your friends, one of them pulled you aside, her expression serious. "Y/N, you might want to look behind you. Jeonghan looks like he's ready to burn holes into your soul with that glare of his," she warned, a hint of concern in her voice.

Confused, you glanced over your shoulder to find Jeonghan, indeed, shooting daggers at you with intense eyes. He was sipping from a red cup, his expression unreadable. You turned back to your friend, your face betraying a mix of surprise and discomfort.

"Why is he looking at me like that?" you asked, feeling a flush of embarrassment.

"He's probably not thrilled about you getting cozy with Mingyu," your friend speculated, a knowing look in her eyes.

You sighed, feeling the weight of Jeonghan's gaze on you. "Well, it's not like Mingyu and I were dancing intimately or anything. It was just about the soccer practice."

Before you could dwell on it further, Soonyoung grabbed a microphone, calling everyone's attention. "Alright, party people! Who's up for a game? Gather 'round!"

The game of "Musical Chairs" had escalated to a nail-biting climax, leaving only one chair in the center of the circle. To your surprise and dismay, Jeonghan emerged as your final opponent. The tension between you two had already been palpable, and now it seemed like the universe had conspired to put you in a face-off.

As the music stopped, you quickly claimed the last chair, ready to breathe a sigh of relief. However, before you could fully settle, Jeonghan decided to add a twist. In a daring move, he pulled the chair out from under you, leaving you flat on the floor, much to the shock of the onlookers.

A collective gasp echoed through the room, and someone in the background shouted, "He cheated!" Of course he cheated. 

Without a second thought, you sprang to your feet, rage burning in your eyes. The buzz of screams around you became a distant hum as you leaped onto Jeonghan, wrapping your arms around his neck.

The chaotic scene was cut short as people rushed to pull you away from Jeonghan, attempting to defuse the situation. You found yourself sitting on a nearby couch, your face flushed with a mix of anger and embarrassment. Jeonghan, on the other hand, sat in the opposite corner, arms crossed, with noticeable nail marks on his neck courtesy of your unbridled fury.

The room fell into an uneasy silence, punctuated only by the hushed whispers and concerned glances exchanged between partygoers. Your friends shot you apologetic looks, clearly sensing the tension in the air.

After a brief pause, Jeonghan's friends took charge, ushering him to a separate corner for what seemed like a stern talking-to. Meanwhile, your friends approached you, expressions a mix of concern and amusement.

"Y/N, are you okay?" one of your friends asked, patting you on the back.

You took a deep breath, trying to shake off the embarrassment. "I'm fine. It's just... Jeonghan being Jeonghan," you replied, attempting to downplay the situation.

Amidst the residual tension and the discomfort of being in the same room as Jeonghan after the chaotic "Musical Chairs" incident, you felt a wave of frustration wash over you. Without a second thought, you began searching for your handbag and jacket, determined to leave.

"I've had enough," you muttered to yourself, the irritation evident in your voice.

Your friends and some of Jeonghan's friends noticed your abrupt movement and stepped in, attempting to halt your exit.

"Y/N, wait, don't go!" one of your friends called out, concern etched on her face.

Another friend from Jeonghan's group chimed in, "Come on, it was just a silly game. Don't let that ruin your night."

But you were resolute, determined to distance yourself from the escalating tension. "I can't deal with this anymore. Every time it's the same, and I'm done," you stated firmly, your tone leaving no room for negotiation.

Jeonghan's friends tried to reason with you. "He didn't mean for things to get out of hand. You know how he is," one of them pleaded, attempting to diffuse the situation.

You paused, torn between frustration and understanding. "I get it, but there's a limit. This has gone too far," you replied, your voice tinged with exasperation.

Jeonghan, sensing the gravity of the situation, looked conflicted from across the room, his expression a mix of regret and concern. He made a move as if to say something, but hesitated, unsure how to approach the situation.

But you had made up your mind. Ignoring the attempts to convince you otherwise, you swiftly grabbed your belongings and made for the door, your determination unwavering. The echoes of your friends' and Jeonghan's friends' voices calling after you faded as you stepped out into the cool night air.

The sound of the door closing behind you marked the end of a tumultuous night at Soonyoung's party. Outside, you took a deep breath, the weight of the evening slowly lifting as you prepared to leave the tensions of the night behind and head home. Sometimes, setting boundaries and taking a step back was necessary, even if it meant leaving a party prematurely.

The week had been a blur of training sessions and preparations for the upcoming game, leaving you with little time to dwell on the events of Soonyoung's party. As you walked through the university garden on a crisp Monday morning, the weight of the week's responsibilities pressed upon you. Your mind was focused on the game ahead, and you had almost forgotten about the tension with Jeonghan.

However, as you approached the entrance to your classroom, you were met with an unexpected sight. Jeonghan and his friends stood there, creating an invisible barrier between you and the classroom door. The air thickened with anticipation as you hesitated, catching your breath.

Not wanting to escalate the situation, you offered a curt nod and a short greeting, "Hi," before attempting to walk past them into the classroom.

Seungcheol, one of Jeonghan's friends, took a step forward. "Wait, Y/N. There's something Jeonghan needs to say," he said, his tone commanding.

You sighed, crossing your arms, signaling your readiness to listen but maintaining a defensive posture. The empty classroom echoed with silence as you waited.

Seungcheol turned to Jeonghan, his grip on Jeonghan's uniform firm. "Go on, say what you need to say," he instructed.

Jeonghan hesitated, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. After a moment, he managed to mumble, "Sorry, Y/N."

You squinted your eyes, incredulous. "Is that really coming from you?" you asked, your voice skeptical.

Seungcheol's grip tightened for a moment, a silent reminder to Jeonghan to speak sincerely. Lowering his head with a visible sense of regret, Jeonghan repeated, "I'm really sorry about that," his apology sounding more genuine this time.

You raised an eyebrow but remained silent, waiting to see if there was anything more to his apology.

After an awkward pause, Jeonghan bowed, a gesture of contrition, before hastily leaving the classroom. The door swung shut behind him, Seungcheol lingered for a moment, meeting your gaze with a nod of acknowledgement. Without saying a word, he followed Jeonghan out of the classroom, leaving you to contemplate the unexpected encounter.

The soccer field buzzed with the energy of the morning practice as both the men's and women's teams warmed up for the upcoming game. You were in the midst of your pre-game routine, jogging and stretching alongside your teammates, anticipation building for the match ahead.

The whistle blew, signaling the start of the game, and both teams began weaving across the field in a display of skill and strategy. The intensity of the game kept you focused until an unexpected jolt of pain shot through the posterior part of your thigh, causing you to crumple to the ground in discomfort.

The trainer quickly halted the game, and you closed your eyes tightly, trying to endure the sharp pain. Soon, you felt hands carefully stretching your leg to alleviate the cramp. Assuming it was one of your teammates, you didn't pay much attention until you opened your eyes and realized it wasn't just anyone—it was Jeonghan.

He held your feet against his shoulder, applying gentle pressure to help ease the pain. The memories of your childhood flashed before your eyes—times when you had done the same for him. You brushed the nostalgia away, focusing on the present moment.

The trainer instructed you to move to the bench for further treatment, and you hopped on one foot, trying to shake off the discomfort. Sitting on the bench, frustration etched across your face, you couldn't help but feel unsatisfied with your performance being cut short by the unexpected cramp.

Jeonghan approached, concern evident in his eyes. "Are you okay, Y/N?" he asked, his voice carrying a genuine worry.

You shot him a quick glance, a mix of irritation and pain on your face. "I'll be fine. Just a cramp. It's nothing," you replied tersely, trying to downplay the situation.

Jeonghan hovered, unsure of how to respond. "If there's anything I can do—"

You cut him off, your tone a blend of frustration and dismissal. "I've got it, Jeonghan. Just focus on the game."

The sun blazed overhead as you continued your solo training on the field, determined to push yourself beyond the limits. The intensity of the game had faded into the background, and now it was just you, the field, and the relentless heat. Water bottles scattered around you, evidence of the effort you were putting in.

Lost in your focus, you were suddenly brought back to reality when you noticed Jeonghan sitting on the bench nearby, his arms crossed. It was then that you realized you had lost track of time.

"How long have you been sitting there?" you asked, wiping sweat from your forehead.

Jeonghan remained silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on the field. "Long enough to know it's not safe to train under this sun," he finally responded.

You scoffed, dismissing his concern. "I need to train, Jeonghan. I can't afford to slack off."

He sighed, uncrossing his arms. "And that's exactly why you ended up with a cramp earlier. Your muscles are exhausted."

The tension between you and Jeonghan simmered as you prepared to leave the field, feeling a mixture of frustration and reluctance to accept his advice. As you rose from the bench, ready to head towards the locker rooms, Jeonghan's hand reached out, gently gripping your wrist.

"You've always been stubborn," he remarked, his voice soft yet firm.

You turned to face him, a flash of irritation crossing your features. "It's not like you care anyway," you retorted, trying to pull your wrist from his grasp.

You pulled your wrist from his grip, shooting him a sharp look. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

Jeonghan sighed, choosing his words carefully. "I remember when we were kids, you were always determined and driven. But now, it's like your determination has turned into something else—an edge, a sharpness."

Rolling your eyes, you scoffed, "Well, maybe if you hadn't been such a pain in the ass all these years, I wouldn't need an edge to deal with you."

As Jeonghan mumbled something about Eunwoo— your ex-boyfriend from middle school — ruining everything, your curiosity was piqued. You turned your ear towards him, a puzzled expression on your face. "Who? Eunwoo? What does he have to do with anything?"

Jeonghan's eyes widened, a brief moment of panic crossing his face. He stammered, attempting to deny any connection, but the truth was written all over his expression. It was clear – he was jealous of Eunwoo.

Your mind clicked into place, connecting the dots. "Wait a minute... are you telling me you've been jealous of Eunwoo?"

Jeonghan hesitated, avoiding eye contact, but the admission lingered in the air. A mix of surprise and realization played on your features. "Seriously? You've been jealous this whole time?"

He shifted uncomfortably, searching for words. "It's not like that! I just... I've known you for so long, and seeing you with someone else—"

You cut him off, unable to contain a laugh. "Jeonghan, are you kidding me? You've been acting like this because of jealousy?"

He looked a bit sheepish but attempted to maintain his composure. "It's not just jealousy. It's just... complicated."

You couldn't help but shake your head in disbelief. "Complicated? Jeonghan, you've been playing games, making jokes, and being a pain in the ass, all because of some weird, complicated jealousy thing?"

The revelation that Jeonghan's years of stubborn behavior were rooted in jealousy over a mere one-month affair left you both astonished and perplexed. As you walked towards the locker rooms, the air hung heavy with unspoken thoughts, and you couldn't hold back from addressing the situation.

"You mean to tell me that all these years of your antics and stubbornness were because of a one-month affair?" you asked, disbelief coloring your tone.

Jeonghan avoided direct eye contact, a sheepish expression on his face. "I didn't plan for things to get this complicated. It just happened."

You shook your head in amazement. "Jeonghan, we've been friends for so long. Why didn't you just talk to me about it? You let this jealousy fester for years over something so trivial?"

"I thought if I acted like it didn't bother me, it would go away. Clearly, that didn't work." He points, creating a silence between you two.

You couldn't help but notice the faint marks on his skin from the intense encounter during the party. The remnants of your frustration were etched in the form of nail marks, a visual reminder of the heated exchange.

After a moment of contemplation, you decided to address the elephant in the room. "Hey, Jeonghan, about the party... I'm sorry about, you know, beating your ass," you said, gesturing towards the marks on his neck. "But, honestly, you kind of deserved it."

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, "No need to apologize, Y/N. I probably deserved it."

You raised an eyebrow, a hint of skepticism in your voice, "Deserved it? What's that supposed to mean?"

Jeonghan sighed, admitting, "Well, maybe I've been a bit of a pain lately, and I needed a wake-up call."

You crossed your arms, still not fully convinced, "So, you intentionally provoked me?"

He nodded, a sheepish smile playing on his lips, "Yeah, but not because I enjoy getting my ass kicked. I just... I didn't know how else to deal with everything, and it all got a bit out of hand."

You let out a small huff, "Well, next time, try talking instead of provoking. It might save you some nail marks."

Jeonghan chuckled at your apology, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Don't worry about it, Y/N. Nail marks come with the territory, and I can handle a bit of rough play."

You shot him a skeptical look, "You're awfully calm about having marks on your neck."

He winked, a playful smirk on his face, "Actually, I find it kind of sexy. Adds a bit of excitement, you know?"

You rolled your eyes, not entirely convinced by his nonchalant attitude. "Well, I'm not planning on making a habit out of beating you up."

Jeonghan laughed, "Fair enough, but if you ever feel the need to express your frustrations again, just aim for my back next time. It might be a bit more enjoyable for both of us."

Your eyes widened at his bold suggestion, "Are you serious?"

He shrugged, a playful glint still in his eyes, "Why not? It's all in good fun."

You shook your head, a mix of amusement and disbelief. "You're impossible, Jeonghan."

[...]

The week leading up to the game passed in a surprisingly calm manner. Jeonghan's demeanor had shifted, and the lingering tension that once colored your interactions had dissipated. His jokes were now more lighthearted, and both of your groups could finally enjoy lunch without the threat of any neck-ripping incidents.

As the day of the game approached, nervous anticipation settled in. The stakes were high, and the pressure was palpable. On the field, the air crackled with a mix of excitement and tension as the moment of truth drew near.

The referee's whistle pierced the air, signaling the start of the game. You, alongside your teammates, advanced with determination. The match was tight, a fierce competition between your team and the opposing university. The score remained deadlocked, each side vying for that crucial goal that could tip the scales in their favor.

With only moments left before the game would potentially go into penalties, an opportunity presented itself. The goalkeeper seemed far, and the ball rolled towards you. It was your chance. With a burst of adrenaline, you sprinted towards the goal, the crowd's cheers blending into a distant roar.

In that critical moment, you kicked the ball with precision, the satisfying thud echoing through the stadium as it sank into the net. The eruption of cheers from the crowd was deafening, and your teammates rushed to embrace you.

Amidst the chaos of celebrating students flooding onto the field, your friends engulfed you in hugs, relishing the triumph, but your gaze was drawn towards Jeonghan. His seated figure and the small punches he absentmindedly threw into the air betrayed a different, quieter emotion. It was a momentary glimpse behind the facade he often wore, revealing a side of him that wasn't always apparent.

The day had been long and exhausting, and the comfort of a warm bath had been a much-needed respite. As the echo of the doorbell reached your ears, you wrapped yourself in a robe, moving swiftly to answer it.

Opening the door just a crack, you peeked out, surprised to find Jeonghan standing in the hallway. "Jeonghan?" you questioned, a hint of curiosity in your voice.

He met your gaze with a warm smile. "Hey, I wanted to congratulate you," he said, a sense of genuine admiration in his tone.

Pausing for a moment, you hesitated before deciding to let him in. Opening the door wider, you gestured for him to step inside your dorm room. Jeonghan entered, a look of determination on his face.

Without warning, he wrapped his arms around you in an unexpected hug, catching you off guard. The embrace was surprisingly comforting, the warmth of his presence a stark contrast to the hectic day.

"Thanks, Y/N," he murmured, his voice soft.

For a moment, you were taken aback by the sudden intimacy. His gesture felt sincere, and as he pulled away, there was a vulnerability in his eyes that you hadn't seen before.

"Um, thanks," you managed, feeling a mixture of surprise and gratitude.

Jeonghan smiled warmly, the tension of the day momentarily forgotten. "I just wanted to say it in person. You did great."

"I did, didn't I?" you teased with a playful grin, breaking the silence that lingered in your room.

Jeonghan scoffed, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Yeah, you did."

An air of uncertainty settled between you as he fidgeted, his hands finding refuge in his pockets. The room was charged with unspoken tension, both of you seemingly on the edge of something unexplored.

After a few moments of hesitation, Jeonghan let out a sigh, a resigned "fuck it" escaping his lips. In an instant, he closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a surprising and passionate kiss. The shock sent a jolt through your body, but you found yourself kissing him back with equal fervor.

He pressed you against the wall, the sudden intensity of the moment causing your heart to race. Your fingers tangled in his long hair, a tangible connection forming between you.

In the charged atmosphere of the moment, Jeonghan's hands gripped your waist, his thumbs tracing teasing circles on the towel cloth of your robe. With a mischievous grin, he released your lower lip with a soft pop, his gaze lingering on your face.

As he pressed his body against yours, the knot of your robe seemed to have mysteriously loosened, creating a seductive cleavage that exposed the curves of your bust. The fabric hung on the brink of revealing more, almost exposing your nipple.

You whispered, your voice barely audible, "Jeonghan."

Jeonghan leaned back, his eyes widening as he saw your robe almost undone. A gulp escaped him, and he hurriedly moved to close the cloth around you. Your hands intercepted his, holding them in place. There was a shared understanding in that moment—a tacit agreement that things had shifted, and there was no turning back.

With a steady gaze, you opened the robe, exposing your body. Jeonghan's breath caught, his hands instinctively gripping the sides of the robe tightly. The room seemed to buzz with an electric tension, and the air felt charged with anticipation.

His hands found their way to your hips, fingers pinching the fabric of your robe. The sensation sent shivers down your spine as his touch left an indelible mark on the uncharted territory of your connection.

As the intimate moment continued, Jeonghan led you to sit on the couch. His hands caressing the skin under your belly button, opening you by your inner thighs, until he reaches your pussy. He licks his fingers, starting to circle your clit, you muffle a moan, closing your eyes when you feel two of his fingers entering you. 

"Jeonghannie…" 

A soft moan escaped your lips, and in the hushed aftermath, you whispered, "Jeonghannie."

He hummed in response, the sound a tender acknowledgment of the nickname that had slipped past your lips. There was an unspoken intimacy in the way he absorbed the words, a resonance that spoke of shared history and a connection that had weathered the complexities of time.

"I missed that," Jeonghan admitted, his mouth sucking your clit, and you jolted, moving your hips, almost riding his fingers. 

 His request hung in the air, and you felt a flutter of anticipation as Jeonghan, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, asked, "Can you do that again?"

A coy smile played on your lips as you willingly obliged. "Jeonghannie," you moaned, the sound escaping your lips with an undeniable fervor.

His fingers curled, and your body tenses while you throw your head back, a satisfied smile forming on his face. The room was filled with a charged energy, and the intimacy between you deepened with each shared moment. "Again," he requested, the playful challenge evident in his eyes.

Your voice, laced with desire, echoed the familiar nickname once more, "Ah! Jeonghannie."

A low chuckle escaped him as he reveled in the sound, flicking your bud with his tongue. Your pussy was tight around his fingers, and he knows you are almost there. So he stops. As you whimpered, a question escaped your lips, "You won't be stubborn here too, right?" The anticipation in your voice held a hint of vulnerability.

Jeonghan, his jaw clenched and a firm grip in your hair, made you look into his intense gaze. There was a magnetic intensity in his eyes that seemed to hold the weight of unspoken desires.

He teased, his voice low and husky, "What if I want you to beg, hmm?"

A shiver ran down your spine at his words, the raw desire and dominance in his tone leaving you breathless. A breathy uncertainty laced your voice as you echoed, "B-beg?"

Jeonghan's grip on your hair tightened slightly, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "That's right. Beg for it," he murmured, his tone a blend of command and temptation.

The air between you crackled with a newfound intensity, and as you hesitated, his fingers entwined in your hair, he repeated, "Beg, Y/N."

Your heartbeat quickened, and the room seemed to close in around you. The vulnerability of the moment hung in the air, and in a hushed voice, you uttered the words he sought, "Please, Jeonghan." Your pussy clenching around nothing.

"Please what, Y/N?" he inquired, his eyes locked onto yours, a playful smirk playing on his lips.

"Please let me cum on your mouth Jeonghannie..." You cried out, and fuck, you felt like a pathetic slut. 

He smiles, sucking your cunt, licking everywhere, your moans escaping your lips, an uncontrollable melody of pleasure. Sensing an opportunity to play, Jeonghan added his own voice to the symphony, a low and enticing moan that mirrored the rhythm of your own.

As you continued to moan, he intensified his efforts, each sound a deliberate echo of your pleasure. His moans grew louder, the teasing quality evident in every sultry note.

Your legs lock him, and he makes you cum messily on his tongue. Your feel dizzy, how the fuck you are trembling on your couch, with robe opened, and Jeonghan giving you a mind-blowing oral? 

Jeonghan, with a deliberate and firm movement, turned you around, positioning you with your arms gripping the backrest of the couch. Your body arched, your ass lifted in the air, the vulnerability and anticipation palpable in the intimate moment.

Your cheeks burned with a mixture of embarrassment and anticipation, and you avoided turning to look at him. The heat emanating from Jeonghan behind you was palpable, and you rested your face on the sofa, trying to conceal the flush that colored your features.

Suddenly, his hands moved swiftly, gripping your hair with a rough intensity. He pulled you closer, and your back pressed against his chest. Jeonghan pressed his lips against yours. However, your mouth fell open, and you couldn't reciprocate the kiss as you felt him pushing his thick cock inside.

The pace quickened, Jeonghan's hips moving surprisingly fast, each thrust making your body bounce with every stroke. The sounds that escaped your lips were a mix of pleasure and restraint. Unsure if the walls could contain the intensity, you bit your lips almost to the point of tasting blood, attempting to stifle the moans that threatened to escape.

Jeonghan, disapproving of your attempt to silence yourself, held the back of your neck. He pressed your face against the pillowed backrest of the couch, a commanding tone accompanying his touch. "Don't hold back your moans," he ordered, his voice a low, authoritative whisper that sent shivers down your spine.

The sounds of skin slapping echoed in the background, but Jeonghan's insistence on hearing your unrestrained pleasure added a new layer of pleasure sent directly to your cunt. 

Stuttering, you managed to express your concern, "J-Jeonghan, people can listen," the words slipping between the gasps and moans.

He, however, seemed indifferent. "I don't give a fuck," he asserted, the determination in his voice unwavering.

You insisted, "Anyone can pass in the hall and hear us."

In response, he scoffed, dismissing the concern. Without a word, he pushed two fingers into your mouth, silencing you momentarily as you involuntarily drooled around them.

Jeonghan's blunt question hung in the air, "Good for you now, slut?" Your response came in the form of a satisfied mumble, an unspoken acknowledgment of the shared pleasure.

He, however, expressed a sentiment of unfairness, his voice carrying a mix of teasing and genuine desire. "That's unfair, Y/N. I've waited so long to hear you like this, and now you're impeding me from enjoying it?"

He pushes you to lay your back on the couch, pushing his dick inside of you again. His hands are now choking you slightly. Your response was a breathless laugh, a mixture of amusement and pleasure. "I can't help it if you're too impatient, Jeonghan."

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through your shared space. "Impatient? After all this time? I've been waiting for this, and now you're telling me I have to be patient?" A teasing glint sparkled in his eyes as he continued, "You're a tease, Y/N. Making me wait, and now you're holding back."

You playfully rolled your eyes, even though his words resonated with a certain truth. "Maybe I enjoy making you wait. Builds anticipation, doesn't it?"

Jeonghan grinned, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Well, I hope you're ready to make up for lost time." 

The rhythm intensified, and the force of Jeonghan's hips against you became more pronounced. The friction started to border on discomfort, and you shut your eyes tightly, desperate to channel all the overwhelming pleasure into a refuge against screaming aloud. Your hands found their way to his back, nails digging into his skin and trailing all the way down.

Your moans and gasps mingled in the air, both of you caught in the throes of pleasure. The sheer intensity of the moment made coherent conversation impossible, reducing any attempts to words that stuttered out in fragmented pleasure.

His mouth fell open, and he called your name with a voice that echoed the shared ecstasy. "Y/N," he stammered, the syllables breaking with the weight of desire, a testament to the overwhelming pleasure that engulfed both of you.

The intensity of the moment pushed you to repeat the action, your nails running harder and more unconsciously down his back. A gasp escaped him, filling the room as his climax overtook him, making his body shiver with the force of pleasure.

After the peak of pleasure subsided, he took a moment to catch his breath. "This is a dirty game you played on me," he remarked, a hint of sulking in his voice. The unexpected intensity of the encounter, spurred by the simple action of your nails on his back, had left him vulnerable and surprised.

A playful smirk played on your lips as you teased him, "Oh, you're really into scratching your skin, aren't you?"

Jeonghan's sulky expression transformed into a sheepish grin. "Well, maybe a little. You seem to have a talent for it."

As the playful banter continued, Jeonghan's hand ventured down your body, his touch purposeful circling your clit. The exploration was gentle yet intent, working to build the anticipation and pleasure that would lead you to orgasm. 

A connection of affection and determination passed between you as you held his forearm, your eyes locked onto his. The look in his eyes conveyed a desire for you to cum,, the unspoken connection between you and Jeonghan deepening with each breath.

His hands worked faster, and your breath quickened in response. You avoided looking at him, lost in the overwhelming sensations. A hiss escaped him as you clenched around him, your back arching from the couch, the sensation of your nipples brushing against his skin adding an extra layer of intensity. In the throes of passion, you called him "Jeonghannie," the nickname slipping past your lips in a breathless plea.

"I'm going to—" you began, the words catching in your throat as pleasure surged through you.

Jeonghan, with a husky urgency, filled the silence, "Cum for me, my beautiful whore…" You reaching a crescendo as he urged you to surrender to the pleasure. "Cream on my cock, my beautiful Y/N. Let go for me."

You held onto his forearm tighter, gasping for air and calling out his name every time more louder. His response was a husky affirmation, "Yes, baby, just like that. Mhmm, that's my little slut."

The orgasm finally hit you, a powerful wave of pleasure surging through your body as you creamed hard around him. The room filled with the unmistakable sounds of your release, a symphony of ecstasy echoing in the air. Jeonghan, caressing your hair, tried to soothe you from the intensity of the climax.

"Fuck, I'll have to take another bath," you said, and Jeonghan chuckled, his voice laced with a satisfied tone, "Well, at least it will be with me."

He held you gently, leading the way to clean up. The shared bath became a tender moment, the water soothing and cleansing as you both relaxed.

Afterward, you lay on your bed, and Jeonghan sat on the edge. You called him, and he turned his head, carefully facing you. "What's up?"

You took a moment before admitting, "I saw the scratches on your back in the bath, but I was embarrassed to tell you."

He got up and turned his back to the mirror on your wardrobe, trying to take a peek at what you did. A smile spread across his face as he examined the red lines on the milky skin of his back. "Looks like you had fun back there," he teased, turning to face you. 

Jeonghan, playfully teasing, grinned and said, "How am I going to explain this to my friends in the locker room?"

You joined in the playful banter, suggesting, "Maybe avoid changing around them this week."

He chuckled and offered a humorous solution, "I can always say I got into a fight with a cat."

Both of you burst into laughter, the shared joke creating a light and carefree atmosphere.

[lucyandalexiafan]

Hopeless | reader x Alexia Putellas | part 1

Summary: you’re alone, even though you were part of the Barça team, you were alone. You thought being part of it meant feeling supported, liked, maybe even part of a family, but that wasn’t the case.

Warnings: angst (and fluff in the end)

Words: 4.4k

It's thanks to @muffinpink02 that this fic is seeing the light. When months ago I wrote the first part I was scared to send it to you because I thought it was boring or repetitive, but, from the beginning, you supported and hyped me during the writing process, suggesting ideas and correcting them every time I sent you even just three sentences. I'm so grateful you helped me so much 🫂

You had never really felt part of something.

Of any group.

Of any friendship.

It was as if the people around you found their people, their friendships, their relationships, but not in you.

You were motionless, with nothing and no one.

Football had been a good relief valve.

A tool useful to not think about it.

To not think about how lonely you felt.

About how everyone seemed to treat you as extra, as not necessary.

About how everyone seemed to exclude you when you were least needed or at the first opportunity.

It had been painful at first, you cried and wondered what was wrong.

Why did it always happen?

And it happened in football too, with every team you played for.

With the boys from the team when you were just a kid, who included the other girls but not you; with the first girls’ team and with the first youth teams.

You always seemed to be extra.

To be too much.

You felt too much.

Except on the field.

On the field you were good.

You were really good at football.

You had poured out every bad thought, anxiety, resentment, and self-hatred on the field, chasing those balls and perfection, trying to achieve the best possible performance and the best teams.

The possibility of changing cities, maybe countries, pushed you to play better and better. The hope of finding your place, the hope that that place was elsewhere but findable, had driven you to give your all.

And this had paid off when the Barça talent scout contacted you.

Your parents didn't care much, you were of age, you could do what you wanted. So shortly after, you boarded a plane to Barcelona, a suitcase of clothes with you and many hopes.

But it had been difficult.

Your young age had mainly put you in contact with the youngest of the team, but they seemed so carefree and spoke so little English that you felt out of place.

With the older ones, you were out of place because what did you have in common with them? With the great Alexia Putellas, with Fridolina Rolfo, what could you possibly have in common? They were so perfect, and talented.

So over time, you ended up isolating yourself, reveling in the same loneliness that had always accompanied you, in that awful but familiar feeling of not being in the right place.

You lived alone, so you could drown every tear in the pillow every time you came back from training. You could cry undisturbed at any time of the day, every time you saw your teammates' stories of them going out together and not being invited, having dinners and not being invited.

It was an endless whirlwind you had fallen into. You isolated yourself by refusing any contact, always feeling like too much, and people stopped trying.

In the end, you were good at football, your performances were excellent, and you behaved perfectly during training. What more could they want from you?

Maybe you had hoped that, seeing how they were all so closed off, they would include you, they would fight harder to help you and include you.

But it hadn't happened, or at least you hadn't experienced it that way.

You had spent Christmas alone in Barcelona and so was New Year's Eve. No one to celebrate within your hometown, no one to celebrate with in Barcelona; your parents traveling who knows where happy not to have to spend money on you anymore.

You had burst into tears, into a panic attack, a few days after training started.

Everyone talked about their holidays.

Family dinners.

Family games.

Friends reunited.

New Year's parties.

You avoided those questions, avoiding the conversations as soon as holidays were mentioned.

What were you supposed to say?

You would have just seemed pathetic, lonely, useless. You already felt that way, you didn't need them to know.

Then, the umpteenth time they tried, they managed to ask you what you had done during the holidays.

You lied.

You said you had gone home and everything was quiet.

Then, as soon as lunch was over, you ran out of the room and took refuge in a small gym in an isolated spot in the sports center.

You put on your headphones and started punching the boxing bag.

The music in the headphones and the tears on your cheeks.

Why weren't you like them?

Why was no one with you?

Why were you so alone?

You were wasting so much time of your life because of loneliness that it almost felt like living the same days over and over again.

The same identical routine, the same cycle of actions, every day, all days.

You collapsed to the ground, your body flooded with sobs, your throat contracted by moans of pain.

You felt pathetic, there on that floor crying over a fate that seemed to be yours, crying over a plot already written.

Then the door of the room had opened and you had stared at it in fear.

Alexia and Mapi had entered, a sigh of relief escaping their mouths when they recognized you.

"You're here! Dios we looked for you everywhere! Do you know what- are you crying?"

You huddled against the wall.

Her angry tone, that angry captain's tone that you had only heard once in the locker room, terrified you.

If you were already insignificant to the team, what would happen now with her that is mad?

You tried to please her, to at least feel accepted by her.

You shake your head as you stand up, your hands immediately wiping your cheeks.

Mapi takes you by the shoulders.

“What happened? Are you injured?"

You shake your head again, you move in an attempt to free yourself from her grip.

The only thing that mattered to them about you was football. It was that you could play, that you made the right passes and the perfect assists.

What did they care about how you really are?

"Then why are you crying? - you try to leave, to get away - No, stop! I said stop!"

You freeze in place, eyes fixed on the floor.

That low, angry, warning tone, almost daring to challenge her.

"Now you tell us why you're crying."

You looked at her.

Should you tell the truth?

Admit to the two of them what you really felt?

That storm of dissatisfaction and sadness?

That feeling of loneliness and apathy that hung over your life?

"Can you hug me?" You whispered looking at her, tears covering your eyes, in an attempt to receive, at least once, the love you were seeking so much.

Mapi's arms wrapped around your body without hesitation. Her strong arms held you close to her, your cheek against her shoulder, your hands gripping the edges of her shirt, tears wetting the fabric at shoulder height.

"I'm sorry" you whisper "I'm pathetic."

Mapi hugs you again.

"Don't say that, it's not true. Do you want to tell me what's going on?"

You bite your lip, your eyes now fixed on the window.

"I didn't spend Christmas and New Year's Eve at home, but in Barcelona."

"Did your family come here? Why didn't you-"

"Alone, I don't know where my parents were and I had no one to celebrate with."

There's silence.

An embarrassing, humiliating, silence.

You feel even worse.

Even more pathetic.

Even more stupid.

Why did you admit it?

For what reason -

"What do you mean you had no one?"

"I don't have friends" you answer flatly.

It was true.

You had no one.

"You could have asked us, we-"

"What? Would you have taken a burden like me to celebrate with at your home? - you laugh sarcastically - Don't lie, you're indifferent to me. Whether I'm there or not doesn't change anything for you, just like it doesn't change anything for anyone on the team."

"Don't even think about it" Alexia's voice is dangerously low "You matter to the team-"

"Oh yeah? I see it. You go out without me, you don't care about me, I'm useless if not on the field."

Silence.

Deaf, powerful, silence.

What could they say to deny what you said?

It's true.

They go out without you.

They have fun without you.

They party and celebrate games.

“Listen - you close your eyes to Alexia's voice - I'm sure the situation isn't-”

“Have you saved my number in your contacts? - she looks at you, her eyes widening - do you see it? We've been playing together for months, we're in at least three WhatsApp groups together, and you've never saved my number. Why should you? Like I said, I don't matter, why would you ever feel the need to contact me? And I'm not talking about social media, following me on Instagram or anything, but my phone number, and you're my captain, aren't you?”

You shake your head frustrated.

You know you could pay the consequences for this behavior in the future. You're yelling in the face of Alexia Putellas, your captain, in front of another person. Alexia has made your teammates run entire training sessions for far lesser things than this lack of respect.

Maybe you don't care.

Maybe you want her to make you run because it means that someone, somehow, noticed you.

You leave the gym, leaving the two women completely still, thinking.

After that discussion, you went to that room for another technical meeting. As always, you sat at the back, a notebook on the desk and a pen in hand, pretending to be attentive and the chance to keep your head down.

A part of you had hoped that by talking about it, by angrily spitting out how you felt against them, they would do something.

That they would take a step towards you.

That they would include you.

But it didn't happen.

As usual, at the end of the first part of the technical session, you went to get a coffee from a coffee machine, in complete loneliness, and no one approached you.

You went back inside, and sat at your desk, headphones in your ears, until you resumed the meeting.

You usually put your phone on "Do Not Disturb,"

You usually put your phone on "Do Not Disturb," trying to convince yourself that the lack of notifications meant you were unreachable, but in truth, no one was looking for you.

No one wrote to you.

No one invited you out.

You left it on without "Do Not Disturb" all day.

You obsessively checked your phone for any pretext.

The time.

The schedule of university classes.

Exam dates.

Training times.

Making sure that the next day was a day off.

Anything to try to find a notification.

But nothing.

Complete silence.

Had you been wrong to shout how you felt, to open up for once?

You had been pathetic, you knew it, but you couldn't stand this feeling anymore.

This feeling that eats away at you from the inside.

Of this acid that was melting you from the inside.

You couldn't live it anymore.

So you had hoped that by opening up things would change, but, like that day, the next one there were no messages.

No notifications.

No calls.

You had locked yourself in the house.

The fetal position on the bed, the nausea that closed your stomach.

How could you have been so stupid?

Why should they ever do anything?

You had remained curled up since you woke up until dinner time.

Nothing at all.

No notifications.

No calls.

The only time your phone rang, you jumped up on the bed.

The hope that someone had contacted you, the hope of counting.

The hope that what you had done had made sense.

But it was the Barça staff warning you that there was no training the next day.

For the rest, nothing.

No sound filled that emptiness of the apartment, of your body.

Yet you couldn't stop looking at the phone.

Hoping to receive a message, a call, or a like on social media.

Anything.

Any sign.

You fell asleep like that, motionless and in the same position as when you got up.

The emptiness inside that had engulfed you and the whole apartment in a black hole of sadness, resentment, nausea, and fatigue.

What was wrong with you?

The next day you forced yourself to get out of bed, make coffee, and eat something.

Anything to feed that exhausted body.

You struggled to swallow the food, to chew it, to tolerate its taste.

Everything bothered you.

Every taste made you want to vomit.

Every sound irritated you to the point of plugging your ears.

The emptiest, most useless, days of your life.

The bottom that you had finally reached. You had crashed into it, actually, with such an impact that it didn't allow you to move even a finger, not that you wanted to, move it.

The next day you forced yourself to get up, knowing that you had to reach the sports center to go to the airport to play the match.

You didn't want to go there, you didn't want to leave the house, you didn't want to see anyone, let alone play.

But you forced yourself to put on the usual Barça tracksuit that you once were excited to wear and to pick up the bag, the apartment keys in the other, and close the door's house behind you with a dry sound that echoed in the empty corridor.

Had it always been so empty?

You got on the bus with less strength than you had at the end of a strenuous match.

You sat in the same place, always alone and always near the window. The feeling that, as always, no one would sit next to you was strong, it exploded in your chest like your desire to cry, to scream that you were hurt, that you didn't want to continue to live in this way.

And so it had been.

No one had sat down.

On the opposite side of the pair of your seats were, as always, Marta and Caroline. You avoided looking at them, because this would have meant contemplating their silent and shy love, their reserved way of showing love.

Their intertwined hands.

The barely hinted smiles.

The shared headphones.

It was too much.

That love so sweet, so reserved, was too much to observe from afar, from the outside.

It seemed so unrealistic for you, for your life, that seeing it come true for someone else burned inside, wore you out.

Then you had arrived at the airport, got on the plane and got off. Someone from the staff had sat next to you, but no one to whom you attached much importance.

"Okay, the rooms are doubles."

Your nightmare.

The thing you hated most was the double rooms.

You wanted to cry in the shower, groan as the water ran down your cheeks and along your chin, and lean your back and head against the wall in an attempt not to suffer too much from the sobs.

Double rooms prevented you from having that privacy, that vital space, during away matches.

Those matches that until the first week, you had so excited about, so wanted to play, but which now had turned out to be just your worst nightmare.

A mixture of anxiety, anger, and sadness.

“Lucia and Maria, Ingrid and Ona.. you two seem to be the last - Jona had said, the tone almost bored, as he gave the key to your room to Alexia - The rules for away games are the same, double rooms or not. Please.”

Alexia had clapped her hands telling everyone to go to the rooms.

You had followed her with your head down, the whole team in front of you and you behind her. She seemed relaxed, her pace calm and her shoulders relaxed, one hand holding the trolley handle, her hair tied up.

You entered the room, she first, and you followed.

“Which bed do you want? - you look at her silently hoping she expresses a preference - you usually sit facing the door, so I suppose this one is better because from here you can see it”

You stare at her.

Wide-eyed.

How does she know?

When did she notice?

“So? - she chuckles - Is this okay?”

You nod cautiously, hesitantly, looking at the bed. A part of you thinks she'll sit on that one, telling you that she'll take it then, that she'll do it to punish you for what happened.

But she moves to the other one and puts her suitcase in it.

You look at her confused.

"Are you not taking off your backpack?"

You blink a couple of times, getting out of your thoughts and moving towards yours, turn your back to her, and lay it on the bed. 

You don't know what to do. 

You hear her opening and moving things around. 

How many things did she bring with her? 

Usually, when there are double rooms, they put you with someone from Barça B, what do people like her do during away games? 

Does she go to bed early? 

Does she eat in her room after dinner? 

Does she watch a movie? 

How should you behave?

"Hey - you turn abruptly - it’s okay for you if we talk?" She asks, her voice cautious. 

You don't answer. 

You just look at her. 

Talk about what? 

How she'll get you out of the team? 

How pathetic are you? 

Talk about what?

She sits on her bed slowly, legs crossed, hands on her feet. 

You are standing, arms along your body, hands open on your thighs. 

You both remain silent. 

She looks at you, trying not to show it, but she's nervous, she's agitated. 

You already want to leave. 

Turn towards the door and exit from this room. 

The claustrophobia explodes, and the air seems not to enter your lungs.

Months ago you would have jumped for joy knowing you would share the room with her, with Alexia Putellas, two Ballon d’Or and one of the best players in the world.

You wouldn't have been able to contain your excitement at the thought of spending time with her, even if spending time alone with her. 

Now all you want to do is disappear, to escape as far away as possible from her.

"Where do you want me to sit?"

"Wherever you want, on your bed or mine - you look at her, not knowing what to do - Why don't you sit next to me?"

You nod hesitantly, even though you know it's a rhetorical question. 

She moves towards the headboard of the bed, legs crossed. 

You sit down facing her, legs crossed, hands on your thighs. 

You don't look at her. 

You feel her hesitate, sighs that seem to suggest several times that she tried to say something but stopped before making a sound.

"Have you ever been to the Canary Islands?" - you shake your head - "Perfect, what do you think about going out for something to eat together?"

You look at her, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Cap-Jona said that... the rules are the same and we can't go out," you respond hesitantly.

Why is she asking you? 

Does she want you to break the rules? 

Does she want a reason to kick you out? 

Does she want a reason to punish you, to get back at you for three days ago? 

You clench the fingers of one hand into the other.

Why is she doing this? 

What does she want from you?

She shrugs. "Being captain has its advantages - she smiles a bit cocky, a bit hesitant - No one will find out, I promise," and she moves her pinky towards you.

You look at her confused. 

You understand the reference to "Cross my heart," but you can't believe she's actually doing it. 

It's also a bit comical, the great Alexia Putellas moving her pinky toward you, swearing that no one will find out if you break the rules. 

Never in a million years did you think it was possible.

She withdraws her hand, palm against her thigh. "I know a good place that does street food, you know, fish and chips but also burgers, and they also do vegetarian food and I know you're vegetarian. If you feel like it, we can go."

Her voice is hesitant, and calm, her posture stiff.

Should you trust her? 

Not that you have many options and you would do anything to get out of this room, out of this hole surrounded by four walls that you're forced to share with her. 

And outdoors she can't do anything to you, right?

You nod hesitantly. "I'd like that."

Almost a whisper, a faint combination of timid and frightened words.

She smiles.

"Do you have casual clothes? Like a hoodie and pants - you nod - Great! Then put them on and let's go."

You watch her as she stands up.

Do you really want to eat with her? 

How long has it been since you went out with someone? 

You feel the tears in your eyes as you dress. 

You put on a simple shirt and baggy jeans, an attempt to hide, to not be visible. 

Are you really that alone?

Probably yes, you can't remember the last time you went out with someone. 

That you did something other than going to training, games, or grocery shopping. 

Why is your life so empty?

If you didn't work, would you have opportunities to leave the house? 

Reasons to do it? 

People to do it with?

You try to think about it, to think about the last time you went out because you wanted to, because you had to meet someone, but your mind is empty. Your thoughts run through the narrow paths of the labyrinth of your memories, but nothing refers to outings.

You close your eyes.

You can't cry.

Not now.

Not with her.

Not now that maybe you're going out with someone.

Not now that someone has invited you out, has asked you to do something together.

No matter the reason, you know she asked you to talk about what happened, but at least you'll do something together.

When was the last time you ate out with someone?

Has it ever happened on occasions other than team or class dinners?

You bite your lip and walk to the bathroom.

You wet your face with cold water, the vain attempt to freeze the sadness, the anger, the bitterness.

How to erase it?

How can you stop these feelings?

You're wasting your life.

You dry your face, almost scraping it with the towel, almost wanting to scrape away that feeling, that self-hatred.

You leave the bathroom with your head down, still doubtful that Alexia really wants to go out with you breaking the rules.

"Ready? - you nod - Perfect, then let's go."

You put your phone in your pocket and follow her out the door, she closes it and then swipes the magnetic card on the lock.

Are you really going out together?

Is this really happening?

Where's the trap?

"Shall we take the elevator, is this okay for you?"

You nod, your voice seems to have disappeared, left in the room.

She hesitates, looking at you, then turns to the right side of the corridor and walks towards the end of it; you walk behind her, the blue of her jeans the only color in your field of vision besides the awful red of the carpet and white walls.

What will happen?

Was she serious?

You hear a metallic noise and see her walking into the elevator box, you follow her and she presses the zero button.

"Do you do this often, go out during away games?" you ask, your voice little more than a whisper as you watch her adjust her hair in the mirror.

"Usually I leave this opportunity to Irene, when her family travels to the cities where we have games, so she can spend time with them. But sometimes it happens, also because Marta just cares to spend time with Caro, it doesn't matter where they are."

She finishes fixing her hair and inside you the question of 'who do you take with you' is inflamed with curiosity.

Who does she go out with?

How many times does she do it?

The image of that rock-solid captain, rigid with rules and obsessive with timings is suddenly softened by this cocky, rebellious version.

"When María got injured, I went out with Ingrid a couple of times, she was scared of leaving her alone at home and walking was helping her - she smiles when she sees we are almost there - And when Jenni used to play with us, we usually went out to dinner together, but that’s a long time ago now."

You open your mouth, your eyes wide.

So it’s true that they were-

"Come on, let's go before we get caught," she ends the conversation before you can actually speak, a smile on her face knowing she has finally drawn out a reaction from you other than fear, doubt, or anxiety.

She walks quickly to a back exit.

"Can you ride a bike? - you nod - Okay, then let's take these bikes to go to the place I told you about. You're a vegetarian, right? The local tourist guides say it’s the place with the best vegetarian burgers on the whole island."

You bite your lip.

Where did she find out?

You never told anyone, only the staff knows, but you rarely eat in the canteen with them and when you do it’s so rare that it doesn’t arouse suspicion that you eat vegetarian.

"Do you like it?"

You nod while you struggle even to eat a fry.

But it really seemed good, and there were so many flavors and types of burgers, sandwiches, and condiments.

Did Alexia really think of you?

Did she really look it up to bring you here to eat?

You’re sitting on a pier, a somewhat hidden part of the beach, away from the road.

Just you and her.

Alexia had placed your dinner on the cold, damp wood, had taken out the two packs of baked fries and Coca-Cola and then placed them on the paper bag.

You watched her as she did it, the embarrassment of noticing the time she took to do everything precisely.

Is she always like this?

Then she asked you to sit in front of her so you could eat facing each other.

You hesitated but complied.

Then, as soon as your eyes met hers, your appetite, the desire to taste this amazing hamburger, disappeared.

That smell that until a moment ago seemed like the aroma of a great dinner, now only made you nauseous.

You grab the Coca-Cola and try to swallow a few sips, hoping the nausea will go away.

Alexia paid for dinner, fifteen euros and seventy cents each, she didn’t even let you take out your wallet.

You have to eat.

What will she think otherwise?

That she wasted money?

That you’re ungrateful?

You have to eat.

You try to eat another fry, your taste buds sending signals of disgust to your brain as soon as they come into contact with that flavor.

Is it anxiety?

Panic?

Fear?

"How do you feel?" She asks.

You freeze.

How do you feel?

Bad? Good? Sad? Angry? Hurt?

You don’t even know how you feel. That torment, that gurgling, in your stomach doesn’t stop, that flow of negative thoughts and anxieties doesn’t stop attacking you.

Maybe you should tell her you’re fine, that you’re nervous for the game but that everything is fine as always.

Even though nothing has been fine for as long as you can remember.

When has something ever gone well?

When was the last time you felt good?

Maybe when Barça signed you, when you got on that plane thinking another life would begin.

You close your eyes, you can’t cry.

But it’s true. Maybe that was the only happy moment after years of feeling nothing different than a constant state of apathy, of emptiness.

It was the only moment when you thought things would change, the last moment, the last time you let yourself hope.

So maybe that’s why you feel so bad now?

"Fine, you?" You answer mechanically.

The same response you always gave the medical staff, the training staff, those few journalists who found it interesting to interview you.

But you don’t look at her, you know she would realize it’s not true.

Empty eyes, rigid shoulders, clear signs of the effort it takes to lie again, for the umpteenth time.

"Can we skip the part where you pretend everything is okay?" She asks, the tone bored, irritated.

You clench your eyes as soon as your mind registers that the tone of voice is angry by your attempt to lie.

What should you say then?

What does she want you to say?

You sigh.

It’s a dead end, isn’t it?

You and her alone on a pier, at night, far from the hotel.

There’s no way out.

"Why do you ask?" You ask, your voice uncertain, a whisper.

"Because I care."

You laugh sarcastically by instinct, unable to control yourself.

That’s what your parents always say when they call you after months of silence, telling you that you’re ungrateful and that they care about you.

Then they don’t call for weeks.

Is there anyone who really cares about how you are?

Who really cares about you?

You don’t think so.

In the end, you’ve lived in many cities, met many people of different ages, experienced things with them.

Did any of them ever really care about you?

No.

Did anyone really want you in their life?

No.

You were just a pastime of the moment, the lady-in-waiting, the entertainment.

"Anxious for the match."

Another excuse, the umpteenth.

Another lie, the thousandth.

You don’t look at her face, you know that if you did, you would cry.

You try to take a bite of the hamburger, but you have to chew it for a long time to find the strength to swallow.

"Why? You’ve been playing as a starter since the beginning of the season."

You know she doesn’t believe you.

Why is she playing along?

You shrug.

"I always feel this way before matches."

"You never told me."

"You never asked."

There is silence.

You bite your tongue.

Couldn’t you keep quiet?

"Sorry," you whisper, scared.

Will she yell? You don’t want her to yell, to get even angrier.

She says nothing, you hear her drink the Coke.

"I get anxious playing with you because you’re the best in the world," you reply.

It’s a partial truth, you’re scared to play with them, not being up to par.

But the reality is you’re always anxious because you know you’re worth nothing to them, so you’re afraid that at the first mistake they will kick you out, bench you forever.

"You don’t have to, you’re really good."

You don’t answer, a compliment thrown to the wind.

She doesn’t really think that.

If she did, you would feel part of the team, right?

If you were that good, they would have included you, you would be part of the group, and not just a marginal ornament.

You eat in an awkward silence almost half of the food.

You don’t speak, she doesn’t speak.

You don’t look at her, she doesn’t seem to look at you.

What should you tell her?

She sighs. "Look at me."

You raise your head but avert your gaze into the void next to her head, pretending to see her without looking at her.

"My eyes are here," she reproaches you, the captain's voice, that gently authoritative tone.

"I would like to talk about what happened, but I know I can’t force you -"

"Yeah, exactly, maybe it’s better not to, forget it," you interrupt her.

You know she hates it when you interrupt her.

She hates being interrupted.

You see her put the sandwich down on the box.

You close your eyes.

"Okay, we can’t continue like this."

You don’t answer.

What should you say?

You don’t understand what she wants.

You don’t understand why you’re here.

You don’t understand anything.

"We need to talk"

"Why? Because we have to sleep in the same room? If you wanted to talk to me you would have done it sooner” you spit angrily.

You attack her.

You don't care about respect, the fact that she is the captain, that she is Alexia Putellas.

What might interest you if you have already hit rock bottom?

What depth can you still reach, that they stop talking to you?

Why, do they talk to you?

Alexia is silent.

A silence so punishing, so tense, it makes you want to cry.

Why doesn't she scream?

Is she bored already?

Do you want to go back to the hotel?

“Maybe we'd better go,” you continue, while placing your hands on the pier in an attempt to get up.

"Sit down"

“Otherwise, what do you do? – you reply bitterly, in the end what do you have to lose? – will you put me on the bench? Will you hit me?”

You laugh sarcastically.

Alexia is silent, so you continue in your attempt to get up.

“I took a few days to think about what happened, about what you said to me and María - she sighs - I asked her not to tell anyone about what happened, so only we and probably Ingrid know, given that María cried all night"

You tense up.

Cry?

Why did she cry?

Does Ingrid know?

Does she really believe you believe her?

Days to think?

“I asked Jona to put us in the room together because I wanted to talk to you but I didn't want to make you uncomfortable and talked to you about two days ago in front of the others, but then I thought it would be embarrassing to do it in the room”

You do not say anything.

What does she want to tell you?

That you're out of the team?

Are you pathetic?

You don't look at her, your eyes fixed on your mismatched socks visible due to your pin-hole shorts.

Anything to avoid looking at it.

“We should have figured it out, how you were doing, what was happening. Instead, we were focused on winning, on the matches, this year the only new player besides you was Ona, but she knew all of us, and we didn't think about the shock and difficulties that playing with us could bring, that moving to Barcelona would cause - look at her - We all made mistakes, me first, and I don't know what to do to improve the situation"

Honesty surprises you

“Sit down, please”

[sunkendreams]

WHAT COULD’VE BEEN.

( michael schmidt x fem!reader. )

༄ ⠀𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | michael schmidt x [fem!]reader.

༄ ⠀𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 8.8K.

༄ ⠀𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭 | one-shot, not requested. potentially multiple parts.

༄ ⠀𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | mentions of past trauma, depression, friends to lovers, confession of feelings, mutual pining, explicit sexual content/smut, virgin!mike, loss of virginity, mike is definitely more submissive here, vaginal sex, riding, making out, dry humping, hair pulling, light dirty talk, cunnilingus, fingering, handjob, unprotected sex (pls wrap it), cum play, mike moans a lot I don’t make the rules !!

༄ ⠀𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 | you guys should’ve seen this coming from a mile away … anyway !! I hope you guys enjoy, I loved the movie & I love Mike even more! If this fic gets good reception, I would like to make a second part or more Mike fics! Please let me know what you think! Thanks so much for your love & support, you guys are just fantastic! ❤️

❝ “What could’ve been, Mike?” You whispered, absentmindedly rocking closer until your chest nearly bumped into his shoulder.

A saccharine affection glistened within his warm stare, enough to burn a hole right through you as he squeezed your hand. “Us.” ❞

Sparky’s Diner stands proud alongside the highway, a now-dilapidated fixture of a small town. Your parents used to take you here as a child, and at one point, it was your grandmother’s favorite place to eat. Now, it almost seemed forlorn, with the occasional gaggle of patrons or stragglers, but nothing more. You were seated in one of the creaking booths, slumped forward.

Cars whistle past a smudged window pane, slivers of daylight trickling through as they catch against the ceramic surface of your coffee mug. Your leg bounces — it mirrors that of the man sitting across from you. Silence fills the void between the both of you, a tenuous moment that seems to last an eternity until you hear a brief clearing of a throat.

“How’ve you been?”

You hadn’t seen much of Michael Schmidt since the incident at the mall — it was almost as if he’d become the resident recluse, and part of you couldn’t fault him for that. You were working at Auntie Anne’s Pretzels, now doomed as a paper-pusher at the career center. You’d run into Mike that way days prior.

It was a loaded question — you were unsure of how to proceed. Part of you wanted to inquire about his own wellbeing. Exhaustion glistened on his features as if they were a permanent fixture, from the bags underneath his eyes to the far-off look in his bloodshot gaze.

He kept his hands stuffed into his pockets, his stare momentarily trailing between you and the lukewarm mug of coffee sitting in front of him. Mike recalled the days of working at the mall with you — it almost seemed a little easier back then, when he wasn’t completely weighed-down by nightmares and job instability.

Mike still held this nagging sense of guilt for letting your friendship crumble after the mall. You’d tried to reach out on numerous occasions, even after his arrest for assault and battery — no one else had done the same. It was scorched earth wherever he stood, and there wasn’t a single soul willing to get close.

“I’m doing well enough,” Your answer finally emerged after a near-endless bout of silence. The warmth had drained from your mug, but it gave you something to hold onto. “How’s Abby?” Mike’s younger sister was his entire world — you often commended him for his undying commitment to her.

Gone were the days of you sneaking her free cinnamon-sugar pretzels and delivering the leftovers to Mike once your shifts were through. You missed it — it almost felt like some distant dream, when in reality, it was only a year and a handful of months ago.

Any mention of Abby often struck a chord within Mike, as if an amalgamation of memories had come back to haunt him. His countenance was a reflection of that — still anchored down by the ghosts of the past. His dreams were becoming more vivid — worse, even. A sinking feeling consumed him then, jaw tightening as he fought against the onslaught of emotion.

A grimace flickered across his visage, enough for you to become concerned. Your heart began to beat a little faster — had something happened to her? “Mike?” You prompted, voice dropping an octave, softening up as you tilted forward. The last thing you wanted was to bring up painful memories.

You knew about his brother, Garrett.

“She’s fine,” Mike exhaled, pocketed hands perched atop his lap. He hadn’t intended to sound harsh, gaze apologetic as he looked back at you. “I’m sorry. My Aunt, ah … She’s trying to get sole custody of Abby. It’s been an uphill battle.” He confessed, tone downtrodden.

“Mike,” You murmured, brows knitting together as you abandoned your mug, hands twisting themselves together. The pain etched into his face was unmistakable — and he was holding himself together through it all. “That’s awful. Have you talked to the courts?”

A humorless huff of laughter escaped him, followed by a more indifferent expression. “No,” He leaned back within his seat, hands withdrawing themselves from his pockets, splayed out across his lap, instead. “I’m definitely not fit to be raising a kid, I know that much.” Mike sighed, eyes fluttering in the opposite direction.

Protest formed upon the tip of your tongue, prompting you into action. “That’s not true. She’s been glued to your hip, even when we worked at the mall. I think if a Judge saw how much the two of you mean to one another, they wouldn’t take her away.” You murmured.

This was the you that he’d sorely missed — one full of tenderness and a gentle optimism. Mike wanted to believe you, but given the overwhelming circumstances and his Aunt’s persistence, it felt like a losing situation. At least, for now, he had time to work this new job and gain some rapport in the process.

“I hope so,” Mike folded his hands together, resting them atop the stained, plastic tabletop. He wanted to change the subject — for now, anyway. “Thanks for still sticking with me, even after all this time.” He murmured, a pang of guilt gnawing away at his insides. You were a good person — the best that he knew.

He felt like he’d squandered away your friendship to slip into this veil of reclusiveness, instead of still holding onto you, that little ray of sunshine. Mike wanted to make amends with you, and he wanted to start down that path before he’d inevitably ruin it again.

An empathetic smile crept onto your features, followed by a soft exhale. “I wish that we hung out a little more,” You mused, tucking a fist underneath your chin. “But I understand that you’re busy. Did that job work out with Mr. Raglan?” You inquired, eyes sparkling with intrigue.

Mike’s breath hitched within his throat, a very subtle noise — he missed you terribly. Jeremiah used to tease and torment him about the colossal crush he had on you, but those times were buried within the past. His sentiments hadn’t changed, but he didn’t think he brought anything to the table, admittedly.

The job.

A security gig of an obliterated restaurant franchise where the animatronics were operated by the spirits of dead children — that job? Even after the revelation delivered to him by his own sister days prior, he still felt drawn to that place, as if he needed to be there. Abby had fun whenever he took her there — it was comforting to see her laugh and smile again.

“Yeah, the security gig.” A lump formed within his throat. He wanted to tell you all about the haunting at Freddy Fazbear’s, but it almost seemed too unbelievable. He didn’t expect you to believe him anymore after he’d grown distant from you. “It’s going. The pay is horrible, but it’s the only place that’ll take me.”

Mr. Raglan was often attempting to lure people into this security position at Freddy Fazbear’s — it must’ve been a profession with an abnormally-high turnover rate. You recalled one instance of him trying to barter with some older man to take the job.

Your memory of Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria was wonderfully vibrant — some of your favorite memories were spent at that restaurant as a child. Friend’s birthday parties, end-of-school summer celebrations, and your own birthday on a handful of occasions. Though, even with brighter times, there was always a splash of darkness.

One of your childhood friends had gone missing — everyone knew about the tale of the disappearing children. Your parents forbid you from going back to that establishment after law enforcement swarmed the place, with detectives scouring it from top to bottom. With a place as family-friendly as Freddy’s being involved at the center of child disappearances, it shut down.

“Freddy’s?” You asked, shifting within your seat. Mike’s countenance held a little spark of uncertainty intermingled with fear — enough for you to mention something about the restaurant’s gruesome history. “It’s supposedly haunted. You haven’t encountered any paranormal activity at night, have you?” You teased, head canting to one side.

Mike couldn’t help but smile — a sardonic, somewhat bemused expression that happened to evoke your curiosity once more. “Something like that.” It was difficult to discern if he was joking or not, truth be told. “Working the night shift, you think you see things — the mind playing tricks or something.” He was afraid of telling you the whole truth right away.

That explained his haggard, sunken look — the disheveled tresses and forlorn stare. He must’ve been exhausted from working nights. You never had the experience of a third shift, but you didn’t envy him. “You look tired,” You chimed, and then, a proposal came to fruition. “Would you want help with watching Abby?”

Max stopped answering her phone, as if she’d become wholly disinterested in babysitting altogether. He couldn’t really blame her — he hadn’t paid up and Abby could be just as reclusive as he was. “No, no. You don’t have to do that. Between you and me, I’ve been taking her to work with me. She likes it there.”

A gentle smile fluttered across your features. The animatronics were adorable — you imagined that Abby liked them quite a bit. “Sure, Mike. If you need help, don’t hesitate to ask. I have some downtime with my job, I don’t know if you can say the same.”

Mike’s heart skipped a beat, chocolate hues captivated by your softened visage. Your smile was mesmerizing — that was still a constant about you, it hadn’t changed whatsoever. Those inklings of affection were spiraling into tidal waves, as if he were back at the mall again, fawning over you from afar as you handed out pretzels.

“Thanks, I really appreciate it.” He chewed at the inside of his cheek, debating on whether or not he should invite you to come with him to the next shift he worked. It wasn’t a good idea — the animatronics were hostile toward adults, he realized. Maybe Abby could remedy that. “So, are you …” He trailed off.

Were you seeing anybody?

Did you enjoy your job?

Did you want to come over to his place for pizza?

Were you still planning on going to university?

Akin to a deer in the headlights, Mike’s fingers curled into the rough fabric of his jeans as he pondered on what exactly to ask you. He wanted to fully catch up, away from the public spotlight of a run-down, dingy diner — not that his house was any better, but he could clean up.

“Are you going to university?” It was a cowardly option — he could’ve chosen the emboldened route, but it felt too soon, inquiring about details of your personal life. You didn’t owe him anything. You’d talked about going to the University of Utah countless times.

Part of you wanted to inquire about the intricacies of his own life — about his Aunt, about Abby, and perhaps delving a little deeper. You really liked Mike, especially when working at the mall together, and after all this time, nothing had changed. A soft burst of laughter escaped you, followed by a wrinkling of your nose.

“No,” You sighed, tapping your fingers against the ceramic mug sitting on your left. “I don’t know if I can go and realistically afford it. I don’t want to run myself into the ground just for school, you know? I’m trying to save up as much as I can.” Your dreams were still present — just seemingly out-of-reach.

Mike could see the flicker of frustration settle into your features, and he felt for you. He’d thought about trying for engineering at one point in time, but with his parents passing away and the weight of responsibility falling upon his shoulders, it all fell through. “I understand,” He scratched at the top of his hand. “You’ve always been too smart for me.” He mused.

“That’s not true,” You protested, playfully rolling your eyes as you nudged at his shin with your foot. “You’re just as intelligent, if not more. Do you remember when you helped me fix the salt dispenser?” A sense of giddiness rippled through you when Mike smiled — nearly tangible, oozing with warmth.

“I remember,” An inkling of humor crept into his tone, accompanied by a fluctuating smile. “I don’t think you knew what the word ‘twist’ meant.” He prodded, dark eyes twinkling with mirth as the two of you engaged in banter about work — back then, at least.

A scoff left you, but your smile remained ever-present, dimples forming at either corner of your mouth. “In my defense, it was needlessly complex. You can agree with me.” You laughed, glancing outside once more. The day was still young, trees swaying with the breeze as patrons came in and out of the diner.

“Sure,” Mike chuckled, pearlescent teeth flashing in the brief hint of a grin before it began to wane. It was a disappointment, really — you would’ve liked to see more of that. “I do miss the free pretzels.” He mused, voice having lowered to a more amiable tone. Part of him yearned for the days back at the mall — it all seemed a little easier, back then. His Aunt wasn’t trying to take his sister away, and the money was better.

The Mike that you knew back during your time in the mall was laced with a wisecrack humor, as smart as a whip, and often full of conversation. You could tell that he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders — it was his eternal burden, it seemed. Selflessness and compassion were ingrained into him, a second nature or instinct, and you admired him all the more for it.

“I missed you, Mike.” You confessed, gaze seemingly forlorn as the two of you lamented about the not-too-distant past.

It was as if you’d stolen the air right from his lungs, ripped it away with your bare hand. Goosebumps formed along the column of his spine, prompting him to shift within the cracking leather of the booth. You’d rendered him speechless, enough to where he felt the need to try and recuperate, lips parting as if to speak — words turned to ash upon his tongue.

Mike missed you more than words could properly describe — he couldn’t convey whatever it was he wanted to say. He’d kick himself knowing that he let this go, let you go, when it could’ve been his all along. A bevy of emotions stirred within his chest, prompting him to dig the heel of his palms into his legs.

Maybe that lifeline, that support — it was something that he sorely needed. That was his justification, his excuse to say he needed you in a roundabout way. Finally, he allowed himself to relax, jaw clenching and unclenching within the same breath.

“Yeah,” Mike nodded, gaining the courage to look you in the eyes this time. “I missed you, too.” His confession hung heavy, like a weight dragging the both of you back into this unspoken sentiment. Whatever courage was instilled in him, he decided to go the extra mile. “You should come over sometime.”

Exhilaration happened to be a mere understatement for whatever it was you felt in that moment — it was borderline ecstasy. You were wholly prepared to launch yourself at the opportunity to spend time with him again, but you composed yourself, keeping any giddiness at bay as you nodded.

“I’d like that — I’d like that a lot, Mike. It’d be nice to see Abby again, too.” You smiled, excitement dancing across your features, barely restrained as you cleared your throat. “I don’t want it to conflict with your work schedule or anything.” You blurted, hoping that he’d be able to keep up with sleep, too.

He couldn’t recall the last time he’d invited someone over, but this was you — Mike had already squandered your friendship once before, and he wasn’t about to repeat the past again. It weighed on his conscience enough. “It won’t. Promise.” He reassured you, unable to keep from smiling this time. “Tomorrow night?”

Heat crawled across your features, sinking into your very bones as you cleared your throat. “Tomorrow night works perfectly.” You checked your watch out of habit, nearly cursing yourself when you realized what time it was. You had fifteen minutes to spare before you were officially late for work. “Shit. I’m going to be late for work.”

“I understand. Walk you to your car?” Mike offered, gesturing toward the weed-laden parking lot as you scrambled to toss a crumpled twenty-dollar bill onto the countertop.

“Of course.” Each night after work, he’d walk you to your beat-down, shitty Acura, making sure that you were safe and sound in the dark parking lot. It was comforting to know that his habit hadn’t changed in the slightest.

Once outside, Mike stuck close to your side, hands slipping back into the pockets of his faded jacket as he walked with you to your car. Trash billowed through the parking lot like a tumbleweed, narrowly missing the front of your Acura. “She’s still running?” He teased, patting the top of your decaying vehicle.

“Hey, don’t be mean to the car. It’s still chugging along. That’s more than you can say about your Accord.” You snickered, tossing your bag inside of the passenger door before turning toward Mike. Awkwardness welled inside of you — it wasn’t like you hadn’t hugged him before, but something nagged away at you this time.

Mike let out a huff of laughter, head canting to one side. “Touché.” He mused, visage softening as he looked you over. You were pretty — too pretty for him, but he decided to skip over the brief bout of self-depreciation. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” His voice trailed off in something of an inquiry.

“Absolutely. I’m excited,” You beamed, and without thinking this time, shuffled closer to give him a hug. Much to your delight, he reciprocated, arms wrapping tightly around you, bringing you in against his chest. You could’ve stayed that way for an eternity — but now, you had ten minutes to spare before work. “Thank you, Mike. For everything.”

He was completely and utterly undeserving of you, but Mike counted his lucky stars that you still wanted to stick around. Instead, he accepted your gratitude, wanting to hold you just a little longer — if only. He reluctantly relinquished his grasp on you, gaze oozing with a saccharine warmth. “Yeah,” He nodded. “Drive safe.”

You smiled, exuberant and chipper before you squeezed his hand. “See you tomorrow.” You mused, hopping into the driver’s seat of your rattling, sputtering Acura as you sluggishly pulled out of the parking lot and out onto the road.

Mike lingered in the lot, glancing toward the fading pavement, and then toward the sky — he had so much cleaning up to do tomorrow.

“Help me clean up around here, and I’ll buy you new crayons.”

It was the only viable bribing he could do to get Abby to help him with picking up around the house. Given his chaotic work schedule and the newfound circumstances with the haunted animatronics, there was little time to keep the house tidy.

He’d gone to work that night after you’d departed from the parking lot, slept a little bit while Abby entertained herself with her friends, and went home when the sun came up. He was tense after the first few times he’d taken Abby to the Pizzeria — the animatronics were still dangerous, but nothing bad had happened.

Yet, anyway.

“Who’s coming over?” Abby asked, collecting remnants of trash and crayon pieces from around the living room, depositing it all into the trash can. “Why do we have to clean up if it’s Aunt Jane?” She mumbled, somewhat dejected as Mike scrubbed the dishes.

“It’s not Aunt Jane,” He cleared his throat, visage swarming with heat as it turned a light shade of pink. “You remember Y/N, right? From the mall — she worked at the pretzel place. She gave you the sugar pretzels.” Mike hoped that his sister would remember you, but there were no guarantees. It’d been awhile.

Abby gasped, realization glittering across her features as she grinned — toothy and mischievous. “You like her,” She prompted, standing by her brother as he tediously made his way through the stack sitting by the sink. “Is she coming over for a date?”

“No, it’s not a date, Abby.” Mike groaned, flicking a wad of soapy bubbles at her. She squealed, smacking at his arm before he gestured toward the closet. “Need you to run the vacuum around, okay?” He sighed, wondering if he’d end up regretting this.

“Okay.” Abby sighed, begrudgingly making her way to the storage closet, haphazardly untangling the cord to the vacuum before plugging it in. “Can we get pizza?” She asked, standing beside the couch, vacuum sitting next to her. “Please, Mike?”

“We’ll get pizza, Abs.” He hesitated, swiveling upon his heel as she sat atop the arm of the couch, watching him finish up the dishes instead of vacuuming. “Does the floor clean itself?” Mike teased with a grin, prompting his sister to hop off of her perch, starting up the vacuum as she began to run it around the living room.

By the time Abby finished vacuuming and he’d gotten the kitchen into a near-spotless state, he focused on tidying up his bedroom and getting the laundry together. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone through the entire house like this on a whirlwind just to make it tidy for you — and he’d do it all again if he needed to.

As he tucked the corner of his blanket underneath the pillow, he heard a knock at the door. Mike assumed that it was the pizza guy — or so he hoped. He wanted everything to be perfect, considering that you hadn’t really hung out together since the mall.

“Mike! Pizza!” Abby called out, sitting at the dining room table with a handful of crayons and sheets of paper. She was drawing another picture for her friends — it was all of them in a field of flowers, accompanied by a bright sun and plenty of birds.

It gave him an opportunity to check over the house as he made his way to the front door, ensuring that everything looked spotless. Admittedly, it was the best the house had looked in several months — a twinge of pride rippled through him as he opened up the door.

After Mike handed him a very weathered twenty, the man reluctantly handed the pizza boxes over before hopping off of the front steps.

The timing was perfect — ten minutes later, and the guttural lurching of your Acura could be heard pulling into the driveway outside. Mike placed the pizza onto the table, tossing a handful of paper plates beside it. Abby leaned over, peering toward the door as he lingered close by.

You were nervous — you couldn’t explain it.

Part of you felt wonderfully ridiculous, having worn something that you considered cute to his house, applied a splash of makeup here and there. As you sluggishly made your way to his front door, you smoothed your hands over your blouse, hands knitting together. You waited a beat, and knocked on the door.

Mike was there instantaneously, as if he’d somehow teleported to that very spot. The door flung open, and you were greeted by his beaming countenance. It was the happiest you’d seen him in some time, which was something of a relief. He looked attractive — the emerald sweater suited him perfectly.

“Hi,” You greeted, offering him a brief wave as you stepped inside, only to be swarmed by Abby in the process. “Abby!” You giggled, stooping down to return the girl’s hug. “You’ve gotten taller, haven’t you? You’re going to beat your brother in no time.” You teased, lips twitching into a grin.

“Did you bring any pretzels?” Abby asked, staring at you with those large, doe-like eyes. A pang of guilt struck at your stomach — you hadn’t worked at Auntie Anne’s for several months now.

“No,” You sighed, shaking your head back and forth. “I don’t make pretzels anymore. I put away lots of paperwork now.” It sounded less appealing when you said it outloud. “I did bring something else for you, though.” You unzipped your bag, revealing a very fuzzy, stuffed rabbit.

Abby gasped, taking ahold of your gift as she squeezed it against her chest. “He’s so cute!” She giggled, showing off the bunny to Mike, who couldn’t help but smile. You’d always been very good to Abby, able to forge a bond with her that he envied on occasion. “Thank you!”

Laughter bubbled forth from your lips, mirth sparkling upon your features. “Of course! I hope he keeps you warm at night.” You mused, glancing towards the pizza boxes organized in a neat row on the dining room table. “You got Greek’s? You’re spoiling me.”

As Abby hopped toward the table to dig into the cheese pizza, Mike gestured at the kitchen. You followed him over, removing your jacket as you hung it on one of the pegs along the wall. “Want something to drink?” He asked, noticing the bemused expression you wore. “I don’t have anything stronger than Dr. Pepper.”

Your nose wrinkled in amusement as you leaned against the countertop, glancing over your shoulder at Abby. The rabbit sat soundly at her side, crayons and paper scattered on the empty side of the table. “I’ll just drink Dr. Pepper.” You chimed, having a gander at your surroundings. You’d been to his place several times before, but it was abnormally spotless.

“Sure,” Mike mused, handing you a can of soda before clearing his throat. “Abby wants to watch Labyrinth, if that’s okay with you.” He’d watched the movie a hundred times before — it was one of her favorites. Unfortunately, he’d memorized most of Bowie’s quotes throughout the film.

“Absolutely,” You chuckled, popping open the drink with a soft hiss. “I wouldn’t say no to that, anyway. It’s a certified classic.” With a bright smile, you and Mike returned to the table, joining Abby as you ate pizza together. The atmosphere was beyond comforting to you — you wondered why you were so anxious to begin with.

It felt like home.

“You don’t like it, do you?”

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to tell that Mike was completely and utterly bored with Labyrinth. The two of you sat a comfortable distance away on the couch, Abby laying on the floor, dozing in and out of slumber. You kept your voice hushed, knees tucked toward your chest as a playful smile tugged at the corners of your mouth.

“Do you know how many times I’ve seen this movie?” Mike whispered, rolling off of the couch as he stooped down to pick up Abby, making sure to grab her rabbit, too. “I’m gonna put her to bed.” He murmured, and you decided to follow, making sure to retrieve her crayons and half-drawn doodles.

As Mike slowly crept into Abby’s room, he tucked his sister into bed, making sure that she had her stuffed animal, blankets neat around her. You stacked the crayons and drawings back onto her desk, standing at the fringes of the doorway.

Crickets chirped outside as dusk settled like a cool blanket, stars spattered across the night sky. It was peaceful, especially as you watched Mike press a kiss against the top of Abby’s head.

Once he closed the door behind him, the two of you returned to the living room. You were more than happy to help him clean up the pizza remnants and any dishes, folding up the boxes to put into the trash until you were both back on the couch again.

“I’ve had a lot of fun tonight, Mike. Thank you for inviting me over — and for buying me dinner, too.” You mused, the two of you a little closer than before. Labyrinth provided a simple background lull, the volume barely above silent. “Do you want me to pay you back?”

“I’m glad we got to do this again,” Mike felt butterflies erupt within the pit of his stomach. The sudden realization of being alone with you was tantalizing, at best. Gooseflesh spread across the back of his neck, one hand poised atop the arm of the sofa. “Don’t worry about dinner. It’s on me.”

“Okay,” A soft huff of laughter left you as you tilted your head back against the plush material, one hand within your lap as the other dangled uselessly at your side. “Could I ask you something?”

Mike nodded, swallowing the growing lump within this throat. A nervous excitement flared up inside of him, as if a match had been struck. A slick perspiration broke out on his palms — he wanted to tell you everything. About the animatronics, about Garrett, about how he felt about you — and yet, he was afraid. “Anything.”

You briefly chewed at the inside of your cheek, adjusting your position to look at him fully. “Did I do something wrong to cause you to pull away from me?” You asked, voice dropping into a soft lull. It was a question that had been on your mind since this whole rekindling.

“Absolutely not,” Mike blurted, and immediately shook his head. “It’s just — after what happened at the mall, I was afraid of what you’d think of me.” He confessed, dark hues echoing with shame. “Legal issues piled up, I was out of a job. It’s been a lot.”

What do you think of him?

Mike Schmidt was the center of your world for the longest time — and now that he was back, it was as if the Moon had come back into orbit, bright and full again. He was perfectly imperfect in your eyes, and you wouldn’t change anything at all. “Mike,” You mumbled, reaching for his hand as your fingers closed around his own. “I don’t think any less of you. I never have.”

Your skin was smooth, velveteen as he adjusted his grip, fingers twining together as you sat on the couch, closer than ever before. The distance between the both of you was steadily declining, and he didn’t mind. “I felt like I ruined things between us before,” He murmured. “I shouldn’t have pushed you away.”

Your heart thrummed within your chest, beating erratically beneath your breast. A subtle gasp hitched within your throat, producing only a sliver of sound. “You didn’t ruin anything. You’ve been through so much, Mike. I can’t blame you for needing space.”

“I felt like I lost what could have been.” He confessed, voice growing abnormally thick. Mike stared at you with those round, dark eyes of his — they were impossibly beautiful, like an inescapable maze. You wondered what he meant by that — what could have been.

Whatever he meant, you hoped that it meant one thing — something unspoken, the sentiment that lingered between the two of you. It was as if a flame had been stoked, roaring to life again as it steadily consumed the both of you.

“What could’ve been, Mike?” You whispered, absentmindedly rocking closer until your chest nearly bumped into his shoulder.

A saccharine affection glistened within his warm stare, enough to burn a hole right through you as he squeezed your hand. “Us.” He exhaled, jaw clenching and unclenching, a nervous habit of his.

Your lips were melded to his before either of you had a chance to properly absorb the weight of the moment. He was a gentle kisser — so sweet and oozing with compassion that you wanted to drown in it. His week-old stubble scratched against your visage, a sign that this was all very real.

Experience wasn’t a foreign concept for you, but Mike was — he was so tender, as if any movement might break you into pieces. Even his kisses were sluggish, as if he were really taking his time. You couldn’t complain about that whatsoever. You rocked forward, untangling your hands as your digits twisted into his sweater.

“Hey,” Mike breathed, doe-eyed and dazed as he withdrew, mere inches apart from you. “Are you okay with this?” He asked, ensuring that you were comfortable before going any further. He hadn’t had sex — maybe everything before, but nothing further.

“Yeah,” You nodded, keeping your voice low as you felt his arm wrap around you. “Are you? I don’t want you to push anything if you aren’t comfortable.” You murmured, and he shook his head, pressing another soft kiss against your mouth.

His fingers swept across your cheek, caressing along your jaw as he cradled your face within his palm. “I’m fine,” Mike reassured you, but his heartbeat said otherwise. Exhilaration and excitement were mere understatements. Everything else had paled in comparison to you in that moment. “You’re really beautiful.”

A soft wisp of air tore past your parted lips, gaze becoming half-lidded as you repositioned your hands, one slipping against the nape of his neck. The other remained stationary atop his chest, and you leaned in again for another passionate kiss.

Mike was warm — he was everything you’d ever wanted.

Distance became slim, next to nothing as you crawled into his lap, slotted atop one of his thighs as you continued to kiss him. It turned sultry, charged with a more intimate element as one hand settled against your hip, digits toying with the hem of your blouse. His scent was that of cologne and fresh linens, perhaps a hint of something sweet.

He switched the television off, holding you close, chest to chest as you broke away from the kiss. The way he looked at you was mesmerizing to behold — Mike stared at you as if you were some diamond in the rough. You pressed your lips against his cheek, reveling in the way he keened into your embrace.

Your mouth peppered a string of kisses along his jaw, tugging some of his sweater down as you made your way along his neck. A soft, simpering groan escaped him when your mouth met his neck, enough for you to shiver with delight. His hands began to skim underneath your shirt, feeling along your curves.

“S’nice.” Mike mumbled, able to feel the tangible imprint of your smile against his jugular. Admittedly, he hadn’t been kissed like that — he nearly asked for you to do it again, tugging you closer as your mouth crept back up, lips seamlessly melding against his.

He was sweet — you thoroughly enjoyed the way he touched you, with a gallant certainty. There wasn’t a singular domineering bone in his body, and you were all the more grateful for it. You nearly flew out of his lap when you heard a noise from the kitchen.

“Bedroom?” You whispered, watching as Mike nodded, moving up from the couch as he reached for your hand this time. It was a very short skip to his room, which happened to be impeccably clean, just like the rest of the house. It was dark and nondescript, but before you could analyze it all, you felt his hands fly back to your blouse.

You lifted your arms, feeling the weight of the fabric leave your body. Goosebumps followed like a tidal wave, scrawled across your flesh as Mike kissed you again. It never lacked passion — it wasn’t rough nor desiring dominance, just complete and utter sweetness.

Mike was hesitant to confess to being a virgin — it didn’t necessarily matter, but it came back to the whole notion of what you would think. He wasn’t clueless in the slightest, but you deserved to know. Maybe you’d be disappointed.

As you sank down onto the edge of the mattress, he followed suit, clamoring with you until the both of you ended up tangled together atop the pillows. Every kiss was heartachingly sweet, fused together with a blistering tenderness. Your heat tilted, deepening your entanglement as your hands clutched at his sweater.

“I’ve never done this before,” He murmured, prompting you to pause, feeling the weight of his body partially draped on top of you. “Does that bother you?” Mike asked, earthen hues scanning your expression for any sign of hesitancy.

“No, it doesn’t bother me.” In fact, you found it to be endearing — it made everything sweeter. “I’ve done this before. Does that bother you?” It wasn’t something that you wore as a badge of honor. He was a shitty guy anyway, but what happened, happened.

Mike gently shook his head, feeling your fingers slip underneath the hem of his sweater. “Not in the slightest.” He replied, voice barely above a whisper. His hands stilled for a moment, stomach sloshing with excitement and a newfound sense of giddiness. “Can I touch you?”

His asking for consent was sweet — perhaps it was the doe-eyed, affectionate look he had or the soft tone of his voice, or both. Nonetheless, you found yourself enticed, feeling his hands dance around the waistband of your jeans. You were the emboldened one, wriggling out of the snug garment without warning.

“Yes,” You uttered, giving his sweater another urgent tug, wanting to feel more of him. Mike obliged, kneeling between your legs as he removed the emerald-colored garment, letting it join the pile amassing at the foot of his bed. “You’re so pretty.” You sighed, and he blushed.

The compliment did wonders for him, and he became visibly smitten by your words. He was all lean muscle, nothing bulky or grotesque, broad shoulders layered in a light smattering of freckles. “Thanks.” It got him to smile again, dutifully returning to you as he swallowed the growing lump within his throat.

Before you had time to conjure up a playful remark, his mouth was against yours, body closer than before as his hands felt across your form. Your arms draped themselves around his neck, fingers roaming through his dark tresses as you gave them a light tug. It elicited a soft noise from the back of his throat.

He kissed you until your lips were swollen, chasing after that sensation. Even kissing you made him aroused, cock pulsating with a dull throbbing as his thigh nudged against your clothed core. It became increasingly hot and less tactful, kisses devolving into a mess of need — teeth, tongue, and want.

It was his turn to layer the column of your throat in a myriad of kisses, stubble tickling the silky flesh of your neck. Your knees squeezed at his hips, feeling one of his hands knead into your clothed chest, gently groping at your breast. A low moan escaped you, and you only wanted more.

“Keep going.” You encouraged, voice breathy and wrought with a sultry tension. You reached back, hastily fiddling with the clasp of your brassiere, flinging the garment aside. Mike’s visage was permanently tinted with a shade of rose, lips parting as he resumed his touching.

Instead, his hand skimmed lower, and he searched your countenance for any signal of disdain as it dipped beneath the waistline of your panties. Mike’s breath hitched within his throat when he touched you, fingers finding your cunt, already slick with arousal. “More?” He asked, seeking a little bit of guidance.

“Yes,” You groaned, hips canting forward into his embrace, desperate for friction. He provided it to you with a swiftness, hunched over you as two digits slipped past your folds, stroking along your slit. “Mike!” Another simpering whine left you, one hand clutching onto his shoulder.

He was so sweet, like sticky, oozing honey as he pressed a string of kisses along the side of your face, pressing himself closer as his fingers found their rhythm. They slid against your aching core, one circling around your clit, causing you to lurch forward.

Mike appeared surprised when you reached for his belt, hastily unclasping it with one hand. Another pang of excitement struck him as you delved beneath his jeans with a neediness that he so desperately craved. He was starved for contact, ministrations slowing when your hand slipped into his boxers.

His cock twitched, bleeding heat into your palm as you felt around, experimenting at first. There was a dazed, needy look in his eyes, chocolate hues glazed-over by a sheen of want. Desperation was a mere understatement — he was starving, needing the contact like he needed air. You provided, amiable as ever.

“You — You don’t have to,” Mike mumbled, attempting to mask the complete and utter bliss he was feeling in that moment. As your soft palm wrapped around his cock, he let out a guttural whine, forehead pressed into yours. “Jesus.” He groaned, trying to keep his volume at a reasonable octave.

“Don’t stop,” You huffed, feeling him sink lower onto you, heat radiating from your entangled bodies. “Mike, please.” Another moan left you when he resumed in full swing, barely able to focus on pleasuring you and his own state of enjoyment.

As his thumb pressed into your clit, his other digits sought to gently prod at your cunt, beginning to work themselves inside of you. It was perfectly in-tandem with the slow strokes of your palm around his erection, pumping at his length with a scorching level of desire. He was panting in your ear, hips snapping forward into your hand.

It was heat and desire and passion that blossomed between the both of you, like a thick, inescapable haze. His flesh felt dewy beneath your fingertips, which found residence against the nape of his neck, grabbing a fistful of his disheveled tresses.

He was borderline rutting into your thigh, lurching forward into your fist, cock throbbing with a dull ache as you continued to stroke him off. Mike wanted to be loud, but there was a risk involved in that. A needy, sonorous moan left him, ghosting above the shell of your ear as his fingers gently pistoned in and out of your tight cunt.

“You’re perfect,” He breathed, mumbling an incoherent string of sweet nothings into your shoulder. Perspiration crept along the column of your spine, knees occasionally squeezing at Mike’s hips as the two of you touched one another as if it were your last time. “Perfect.” Mike mumbled again.

You tugged on his hair, dragging him closer for another sloppy, obliging kiss, to which he happily reciprocated. You could hear another whimper leave him as your lips clashed, causing you to shudder in delight. He was thrusting himself into your palm, tendrils of precum slick against your fingers.

“Want me to stop?” You mumbled, and he nodded against your shoulder. Mike knew that if you kept it up, he wouldn’t last — and it seemed completely and utterly pathetic if he did so this early on. Your grasp began to slack, hand slipping out of his boxers.

A twinge of disappointment ripped through you when his hand ceased, but it dissipated just as soon as it appeared. Mike’s hands curled into the waistband of your panties, gingerly easing them down along the length of your legs, body slipping lower as he did so. His gaze silently begged for your consent, and you weren’t about to refuse him.

“Is this okay?” Mike murmured, shuddering in delight when your head bobbed up and down several times over in an enthusiastic nod. He hadn’t done this before, but thankfully, it wasn’t difficult — and he was a quick learner. He pressed a trail of benevolent kisses along your thigh, stubble tickling your flesh in the process.

Your throat became thick, feeling his broad shoulders push past your legs, keeping them parted. “Mike,” A sigh of passion left you, hand clamoring to grasp at his tresses yet again. One hand kneaded into the pliant flesh of your thigh, the other splayed atop your hip bone until your fingers found his.

Nervousness swelled within him as he inched closer, feeling some nagging pang of hesitation. He was terrified of disappointing you, but he remembered what you’d said earlier — you’d never think less of him. “Tell me if it’s too much.” A soft utterance emerged from him before he dipped inward, breath hot as it fanned across your thighs.

Not in the slightest.

His tongue raked hot embers across your cunt, stoking the flame that burned bright within the pit of your stomach. Mike’s head became foggy with lust, swimming with desire as he kept a more exploratory pace. Your honeyed scent wafted around him, dragging him in again as he laps at your slit.

You were in disbelief — he hadn’t done this before? It almost prompted you to ask, but his mouth happened to rip those thoughts right out of your skull. A soft barrage of licks lashing against your cunt had you squirming, hips rolling forward into his mouth. A low moan left the both of you, fingers perusing through his mop of dark curls.

A myriad of whimpers left your parted lips, causing Mike to shift against the mattress, hips grinding forward to relieve some of the friction. His cock strained against his boxers, finding pleasure just in giving it all to you.

A thin layer of dewy perspiration broke out along your flesh, provided by the continuous wave of heat drifting between the both of you. Your thighs quivered as warmth pooled between your thighs, and Mike was there to kiss it all better, tongue trailing over your cunt again and again, stubble prickling at your soft flesh.

He wanted to be inside of you so bad — there was an ache present, one that only you could cure. Mike wanted to savor you, drunk upon your very being as a soft groan left him. Your digits continued to tug on his tresses, causing him to keen forward, lips pursing around your clit.

“S—Shit, Mike!” You mewled, attempting to keep your volume at a hushed octave. It was proving to be increasingly difficult, writhing against him as he hunched inward, nearly forgetting to breathe.

Mike inhaled, kissing the inside of your thigh as he dutifully lapped at your slit again. He alternated between your wet cunt and clit, suckling on the sensitive clutch of nerves. His jaw clenched, hips jolting into the mattress again as he haplessly tried to relieve some of the mounting tension.

Your chest heaved with a myriad of throaty, high-pitched whimpers as he sucked on your clit, stars rippling past your vision. No one had ever gone down on you with such reverence and passion before, but now that you’d gotten a taste, you wanted more.

Jesus — his resolve crumbled with every sound you made, each cant of your hips as you rocked into his mouth. Mike let out a whimper — he almost hoped that you didn’t hear how pathetic it sounded, continuing to lap at your core until you were seeing white.

That coil began to unfurl, blistering heat coursing through you, a white-hot rush of sheer ecstasy that caused you to moan and cry out. Mike continued to sweetly embrace your cunt, lips lightly kissing at your clit. Your body rattled like a leaf, tremors of your orgasm shooting through you.

“I need you,” Mike huffed, his voice strung-out with lust, hoarse and throaty as his fingers clamped into the pliant flesh of your hips. “Please.” You were on the cusp of cumming, hopelessly aroused by his sweet pleas as you lifted his head away, enough for him to look at you.

Those sweet, doe-like eyes of his were dilated with desire, his expression one of sheer desperation, breathing having sped up. You sat up on your elbows, enthralled by the way he hovered between your legs like a ravenous man. “You can have me,” You murmured. “Always.”

Mike sprung into action, hastily tearing his jeans off as he crawled up the length of your body, pressing a string of appreciative kisses against your velveteen skin. “You’ll stop me, right?” He inquired, nearly rendered speechless when you hitched a leg around his waist, fingers grasping at his shoulders.

“Yeah,” You nodded, feeling his fingertips ghost along your hairline, idly pushing disheveled strands aside before he stooped in for a kiss. You had no intention of stopping him whatsoever, reciprocating his affections before you plucked at the waistband of his boxers. “Just go at your own pace, okay?”

He was filled with longing, bursting at the seams as he freed his cock from its confines. He feared that he wouldn’t last long at all if he went this extra mile, but there was no turning back. Mike didn’t want to turn back, either. A moan rippled through him as he dragged the head of his length through your folds.

It reminded you of a feral animal — his countenance glistened with an ardent sensuality, pupils blown-out with lust as he slowly pushed himself inside of you. Admittedly, you loved that Mike was so needy — and he wasn’t ashamed of it, either. He lacked a single ounce of dominance, even if he was on top of you.

“You feel so good,” You moaned, forehead pressed against his own as he began to move, hips awkwardly snapping forward. It was a rocky, unstable rhythm, but you didn’t mind it in the slightest. “Mike,” A wanton sigh left you as your hands found his tresses once more.

Mike’s mouth brushed against yours, thrusting himself inside of you as he gained a rather sluggish pace. His cock throbbed uncomfortably, yearning for a release as he rocked forward again. Another low-pitched whine left him when you tugged on his hair. “I—It’s perfect.” He panted, flesh searing and damp.

His head dropped toward your collarbone, face buried within the crook between your neck and shoulder. A shudder rolled down the length of his spine as you coaxed him close, hips occasionally grinding into his pelvis, creating a friction that he wanted to chase after.

A string of incoherent babbles escaped him, enigmatic and so very breathy, hot skin melding against your own body. His pace became borderline erratic, as if he didn’t know what fit — he just wanted to be inside of you. It felt euphoric, feeling your cunt tighten around his cock as he rutted into you.

Ecstasy blistered through him like a tidal wave, and he almost felt dizzy, fucking into you at a constantly-shifting pace. He alternated from sluggish to swift, unsure of what felt right, but you were mewling into his ear. You showered him with sweetly-spoken praises, mouth seeking his lips for another messy kiss.

Mike’s hips continued to snap forward, cock aching as he neared his release. Your hand snaked between the both of you, thumb circling your clit as he bucked forward again, releasing another groan. “M’close.” Mike huffed, giving you ample forewarning as he kept up the pace.

“Please cum for me,” It was needlessly filthy, the command that tore past your mouth, but it certainly evoked a strong reaction from him. He stammered, letting out a whine as he fucked into you with a lazy passion. “Cum in me, Mike.” You moaned.

He didn’t know if he heard you right, but he rutted into you again and again, cock pulsing with warmth as he came. Mike pulled out halfway through, painting your thigh in hot ropes of his cum, flesh blazing with embarrassment.

Even in the blissful aftermath, he couldn’t help but apologize for the mess. “Sorry,” He was blushing, chest heaving with excitement as he regained his composure, slowly but surely. The rush and exhilarating thrill was still present as he rolled off of the bed, scrambling to retrieve a washcloth from his bathroom. “Here.”

His apology was endearing — sickly-sweet, too. You cleaned yourself off, making sure that the cloth ended up in the dirty laundry. You were sitting up just enough for him to press in behind you, feeling his lips pepper themselves along your spine.

You twisted around, curling into his arms as you draped yourself on top of him, swollen lips coaxing him in for an achingly tender kiss. It was pure bliss — it lacked the crazed desire from earlier, lust dissipating into affection instead. “Are you sure you’ve never done that before?” You mumbled against his mouth.

“Positive,” Mike assured, hiking the sheets up over the both of you, watching as you wormed your way into one of his t-shirts. “You’re really beautiful.” He murmured, digits stroking at your hair, caressing around your temples as you perched your chin atop his chest.

“So are you.” Your smile became saccharine, entranced by your brown-eyed paramour. “Your eyes are pretty,” You uttered, hands splaying themselves out against his chest as he held you close. “So warm.”

Crimson saturated his features as he accepted your doting compliments without question. He wasn’t used to it, but he could adjust. Your lips were swift this time, melding together in a seamless kiss as he took his time, committing every detail of you to memory. “Stay with me?” He murmured, palm lightly caressing at the back of your head.

“Of course.” You settled, limbs tangled together beneath the sheets as you made yourself comfortable within his arms. It was something that you weren’t bound to forget about anytime soon, dozing off to the sound of his steady breathing.

It was the best he’d slept in ages.

[personasintro]

Mutual Help | #01

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jungkook x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fake dating au, fluff, angst, smut, slow burn

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.4k+

𝐚/𝐧: this bombass comeback wouldn't be as amazing and special if it weren't for @kithtaehyung who made the best new mh banner anyone could ever make!!! ryen, thank you bub so much for putting up with my indecisive ass and taking the time to make not only this banner but different versions before that! I truly appreciate it and I'm thankful you're a part of this!!

ogs know this one is reposted but I hope everyone will enjoy it whether they're rereading it or reading for the first time! lastly, thank you for the endless love and support, i love y'all ♡

𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢ 

The hallway looks exactly the same, which there isn't any reason why it should look different all of a sudden, but considering you haven't been in this building for the past few weeks just makes you want to notice the slightest change. But there is none. It still smells sterile with a little bit of sweetness which reminds you of cinnamon. You're not sure why, nor do you really dwell on it too much.

You could imagine your Thursday evening differently, which means laying down as soon as you come home and turn on Netflix, trying to spend at least twenty minutes finding a good show. That's been your routine for weeks now, but you're not complaining. It feels that void of loneliness in your smart one bedroom apartment.

Although, you can't help but feel nervous when you picture the message you got from Jimin.

'come to Jungkook's, he needs us' 

He never explained anything further, nor replied to the tons of your messages or missed calls. You wouldn't be on the edge, if you've seen or heard from Jungkook. Apart from some occasional messages like 'what's up' or 'what were you doing today?', your communication went downhill. But you don't blame him or yourself for it. You were both busy and probably still are, to even hangout like you always used to.

It bothered you for some time, not hanging out with your best friend like you used to. But you've grown used to that small but painful fact that you don't have to see each other every day. Plus, after some time you've realized, you can still be best friends with someone without having to chat with them 24/7. Gratefulness is how you'd describe your feelings. Grateful that your friendship works, even though you don't get to spend your time with each other that often.

Your knuckles meet the wood of Jungkook's front door in a gentle manner, which is a complete opposite of your inside feelings as you've this weird feeling inside of you. The message Jimin sent you was weird and you haven't heard from anyone since then.

And when the door finally opens, you're glad you're met with Jimin himself as he stares at you with hopeful eyes and a breath of relief that escapes his plush lips. You rush inside, already taking off your shoes and jacket while you confusingly stare at your friend that looks more than relieved to see you.

"What the hell happened? You never texted me back." you tell him, or more like scold him rather than properly greet him.

"Ah, sorry," he cringes, pulling out his phone before he notices the bunch of messages and missed calls from you. "It's just—"

"This is bullshit."

The grumpy and raspy voice unintentionally cuts him off, booming inside of the apartment causing your ears to naturally perk up. Is it just you or his voice got deeper? You look at Jimin with a questioning gaze, who sees the confusion on your features as you hear Jungkook's grumpy and annoyed voice. Rather than explaining something to you, he sighs and with a quick cock of his head towards the living room, you both walk inside.

You're surprised when you see Taehyung there as well, opening a beer can before he pushes it into Jungkook's hands. Surprisingly, the mentioned guy is slouched on his beige couch, wearing one of his baggy shirts and loose sweatpants with his hair looking like he hasn't brushed them for days.

Taehyung's eyes meet yours as soon as you step in, noticing the mess around including two pizza boxes thrown on the floor and empty cans of coke and beer on the coffee table. "Oh, thank god!" Taehyung breathes out the same sigh of relief, causing you to greet him with a confused 'hello'.

Although, you don't wait for any reaction because your best friend finally acknowledges your presence in his home, head lazily turning in your direction as you walk up to him.

"Great," he mutters, almost rolling eyes at the sight of you. "Who called her?" he eyes the two of his best friends, scoffing before he takes a gulp of the beer that Taehyung handed him.

"What kind of reaction is that, asshole?" you react right away, frowning at your best friend that hasn't seen you for weeks and this is his first reaction.

"Don't mind him, please. He's just a little bit drunk right now." Jimin quickly jumps into an action, noticing your fireback and unappreciative tone that's aimed at none other than Jungkook himself.

He rolls his eyes at Jimin words, but doesn't say anything else before Taehyung watches you with cautious doe eyes. He sits in a chair, arm leaned against his knee as he anxiously bites his nails even though he tries to act casual. You don't buy it.

"What the fuck is going on?" you ask them, pointing towards Jungkook that looks like a truck just hit him.

Jimin opens his mouth, but Jungkook glares at him which ends up with him shutting it right away and when you look at Taehyung, he doesn't even spare you a glance.

"Which one of you called her?" Jungkook speaks up, eyeing the two of his friends as they point to each other causing you to snort. Cowards. "I'm fine. I don't see a reason why you make such a big deal out of this. I'm fine."

The fact that he had to repeat the same sentence twice, just proves that no — he's not fine. And before the wheels in your head start to work and roll, Jimin's voice speaks up in a clear, yet quick tempo.

"Kiko broke up with Jungkook."

The room goes silent, faint sounds coming out of the television are filling out the thick silence in the room as Jungkook freezes, not even glaring at his friend that apologetically shrugs at him.

One of the reasons why you haven't got to see your best friend that often is, that he simply found a girlfriend. Trying to combine his work, personal love life and you was already hard. But you get it. You're not mad or annoyed at him, because the two of you still kept in touch. It was just a matter of time until some of you found someone and naturally, there wouldn't be that much time to spend your days together. It was bound to happen and you knew Jungkook would be the first one to find someone.

He's your best friend, but you're not blind. He's one of the most handsome guys you've ever met, not just that but his personality is something that most girls would fall for. His attitude is pissy right now and now, you know the true reason behind it. But the Jungkook you know, is one of the most caring people you know. And not only that, but he's funny, intelligent and perfect at almost everything. He's the whole package and any girl would be lucky to snatch him.

And that girl, or perhaps you should say a woman, happened to be Kiko. A Japanese beauty that their mutual friend introduced them to one another. It clicked off immediately. Even you've noticed it when Jungkook Rain checked almost every plan you had together. He started to stare into his phone with all those puppy heart eyes whenever she texted him. At first, you found it annoying because it was just plain rude, watching him text her every five seconds instead of trying to hang out with you. But then, you just stopped caring and whenever you went silent, he'd just pushed his phone away and tried to gain your attention.

It was stupid, because you knew if you gave him attitude or silent treatment, he would just feel bad and tried to focus on you. Until the both of you stopped hanging out with each other that much.

"She did?" you mutter, staring at Jungkook who stares in front of him with a wiped out gaze. You've never seen him in this kind of state. "I'm sorry, Kook."

"Yeah, well, shit happens." he grumbles, clenching his jaw as he takes another gulp of beer that's securely clenched in his hand.

You've seen Jungkook having a couple of girlfriends, but you know that his relationship with Kiko was different. He wasn't just any girlfriend that he tried to get to know, she was someone that he completely fell for and couldn't stop talking about. He's in love. And even though he's being an ass to his friends right now, it's just his coping mechanism and you know that whatever Jimin and Taehyung has been doing, hasn't helped much. He plays tough right now, hiding his true feelings under this cold and uninterested facade but you know him better.

And when he keeps glancing at you before he quickly looks away, it's almost as if he can hear your exact thoughts.

"Well," you hastily speak, clapping your hands together as you lightly smile at everyone in the room. "You don't wanna date anyone whose name is Kiko." you try to joke, a laugh and snort erupting from Jimin and Taehyung who has obviously found your little joke funny.

Jungkook on the other hand, looks even more pissed off because he never looked at you with so much anger and annoyance as he's looking right now, causing you to squirm in your spot. "Real class, Y/N." he barks at you, causing you to slump in defeat before Jimin squeezes your shoulders in comfort.

"I brought you banana milk. I didn't know what happened, so I thought this would be a nice and quick save." you lightly tell him, sitting at the end of the couch, next to his sprawled legs but he doesn't move them away.

"Jeez, I'm not some fucking kid. Banana milk won't fix my broken heart." he scoffs, shaking his head while the three of you are even surprised that he just admitted that he has a broken heart. Well, clearly but since he's been putting up this tough act, it still comes as a shock. Judging by the look of Jimin's and Taehyung's face, they seem to think the same thing.

"I know that, Kook," you quietly tell him, hastily grabbing one of his ankles as you squeeze it in a manner to comfort him. He doesn't budge, that means something. "Is there anything we can do for you?" you ask him, not really sure if he's even going to answer that.

His brows furrow while he fumbles with his fingers, the slightest pout adoring his small lips as he thinks your question through. The three of you watch him with curious eyes, wondering what the hell is this guy thinking of. He looks at you, then at Jimin and Taehyung before he softly sighs.

"I mean... there's nothing you guys can do." he says softly, taking another gulp of beer that tastes like piss. Korean beer is just not good, and you're surprised that Jungkook even drinks it. But he never had any problem with any alcohol, that man can drink and eat anything.

There's nothing you can think of that could possibly help him out of his heartbreak. The only thing for you to do, is to be there for him. And if drinking a beer that tastes like piss is some kind of twisted way of helping him, you're in. So, you reach out and grab one of the unopened cans before you open it with a loud 'click', taking a gulp of it.

"What are you doing?" Jungkook sits up, staring at your scrunched nose and distaste written all over your face.

"Drinking with you." you shrug, taking another huge gulp of it. The more you drink it, the less it tastes awful.

"But you hate this beer." he reminds you, scowling at you and your nonstop gulping, hand twitching to get it away from you.

"I know," you shrug, grinning at him. "It doesn't taste that bad. Now come on," you nudge him with your leg, raising your can to him. "Cheers." you call out to him, ignoring his big doe eyes that stare at you with a slight confusion before he sighs.

"Cheers." he mutters, clicking his can against yours before the both of you take another gulp.

The two of you are completely unaware of your friends' faces that are washed with relief and knowing eyes as they stare at you and Jungkook. All it took was just to call you to save the day. Jungkook might not be in his greatest mood or show his appreciation for you to be there for him, but drinking without constant complaining and cursing is still a better result that Jimin and Taehyung managed to get.

"I've never thought I'd ever drink this much of this piss beer." you croak out, putting another empty can onto Jungkook's messy coffee table. You sit back, head falling onto his shoulder as you silently inhale his scent. It always reminded you of his fabric softener that smells like a baby, mixed with his cologne that is very faint on his clothes.

"How do you know what piss tastes like?" Jungkook asks, raising his brow at you while the corner of his lips twitches in amusement. "Do you wanna tell me about your weird kinks?" he cocks his head at you, causing you to groan as you hit his shoulder but it does nothing to him, he doesn't even budge.

A chuckle roars in the back of his throat, a first sound that can be considered as a positive emotion.

"It's not like that." you mutter, growing embarrassed at the thought of Jungkook thinking about your kinks. Not that you know about them that much. You might think there are some things you might like, but you never had anyone to try it with. How possibly could you know? But the idea of you having a piss kink, or whatever that's called, makes you want to gag. Maybe it's the beer or just a single thought of it, who knows.

Jimin and Taehyung already left, once they saw Jungkook loosening up, they took that chance to go home and leave the two of you alone. Not even once he talked about his heartbreak, you silently watched a TV show that Jungkook turned on whilst drinking a beer and munching on some crackers that Taehyung handed you before they left.

Glancing at Jungkook, his face is illuminated from the screen whilst he's watching a TV show with slightly furrowed brows. And when it finally stops, he sighs and grabs the remote to browse through some other movies and TV shows. He keeps browsing through them for a couple of minutes, muttering a pair of curses when he can't find anything he likes. You turn on the lamp in the very corner of his living room, causing him to frown even more from the sudden light.

You sit next to him, staring at him as he sighs and looks back at you. "What?" he asks unbothered, the remote still clutched in his hand.

"I'm sorry, Kook," you tell him silently, reaching for his shoulder which you squeeze in comfort, like you previously did with his ankle. "I know that you loved her."

And you see his facade crack, when he sucks his bottom lip as he quickly looks away from you to blink away the tears that are threatening to fall. You've never seen him this vulnerable.

"Love," he mutters, causing you to let out a confused 'huh?' in response. "Not loved her, but love. I still love her." he corrects you.

"Why did she break up with you? You don't have to tell me if you don't feel comfortable enough, but you guys seemed so close together."

It doesn't make any sense. Jungkook kept talking about her even through your messages, and you could practically feel the happiness radiating from his single messages. His whole Instagram is filled with their pictures, or just single shots of Kiko that Jungkook has taken and captioned with a single heart emoji. You've never seen him being so in love before. That's when you've realized that Kiko is different from any other women that Jungkook was seeing.

You don't push him into answering, the last thing you want for him is to get upset with you. But you can't keep walking around eggshells for this whole night.

"Apparently, she just wants some time for herself. She wants to explore other things, whatever the fuck that means." he bitterly chuckles, eyes filled with anger but you know it's just hidden hurt.

"Maybe you'll find someone else, Kook. You're still young."

Scoffing, he shakes his head. "She's the love of my life. I really doubt there's someone else for me. I was about to ask her to move in with me."

Shit, he's really serious about her.

"You did?"

He nods, biting onto his lower lip before he lets it go, fumbling his eyes before he sighs in defeat. "I love her." he whispers, his voice sounding so vulnerable that it makes your heart clench.

You go straight into hugging him, enveloping his huge body to yours as he starts to cry into your chest. For the first time, he finally breaks in front of someone else rather than himself. He clutches to your body, tears wetting your shirt but you don't mind it, grabbing him even tighter. He cries, something he doesn't usually do in front of everyone. You realize how he kept holding himself in front of Taehyung and Jimin when all he wanted was to cry it out.

"It's okay, you're going to be okay." you tell him, cheeks pressed against his hair that got super long since you've last seen him.

He sniffles, wiping his eyes before he slightly pulls away. "It happened two weeks ago and I'm still such a fucking mess." he scoffs at himself.

"Two weeks ago?" you exclaim, surprised by the new information. "It happened two weeks ago and I know just... now?"

He glares at you and you quickly shut your mouth. "Not everything is about you, Y/N." he reminds you.

Rolling your eyes, you're about to curse at him for being so rude but then you remember his state. He's just hurt and in a way, he's right. "No, that's not what I meant. I just... I'm surprised that you didn't tell me sooner. If it weren't for Jimin, I don't think I'd be here right now." you explain, thinking about all possibilities that could happen.

"I was going to," he mutters, reaching for a bottle of water instead as he takes a few gulps. "But I needed some time to myself. I didn't want anyone to see me like this." he points out towards his slightly puffed eyes.

You just wished he'd tell you sooner. But you don't tell him that. It's not selfish to think that, because you just wanted to be there for him sooner. Nobody should go through such a heartbreak alone. Not when he has you and other two friends willing to be there for him.

"You know that you can tell me anything, right? I'm always here for you." you remind him, flushed cheeks when you see his eyes already set on you.

The friendship between you and Jungkook is mostly surrounded with you teasing each other and in a way, he's like an older brother to you. You don't get all sentimental with each other, even though you're always there for one another. It's an unspoken rule and natural feeling that your friendship has.

"I know," he says softly, giving you the best little smile he can muster. "And I'm so grateful for that. I know I was acting like an asshole and I'm sorry, I just... I'm really happy that you're here."

You don't get to hear such words often, especially coming out of Jungkook's mouth, but that's why you're even more pleased to hear them.

You smile back at him, silently thanking him and also saying that it's okay and you get it. It's quiet for a moment. Jungkook fumbles with his fingers as you silently watch him, noticing a few new tattoos that decorate his honey skin.

"Y/N?" he asks suddenly, causing you to hum in return. " You know when you asked me, if there's something you could do for me?"

"Oh, boy. What is it this time?" you joke, causing him to silently chuckle under his breath.

What could he possibly want to know? The last time he wanted something from you, was to clean his whole apartment because he twisted his ankle. But whatever that comes out of his mouth next, never occurred to you before.

"Can you pretend to be my girlfriend?"

© 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨 (𝐧𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝) | don't forget to reblog ♡

[belqva]

₊˚⊹౨ LOML [C.S.] ৎ ₊˚⊹

warnings: none, except for a lot of angst but oh well. the tortured poets department gave me inspiration for this so are we surprised?

summary: In the shadows of triumph, Coriolanus Snow, victor of the 10th Hunger Games, faces exile. Bound by a promise and a tender moment Coriolanus leaves behind his best friend and a life of endless possibility.

pairing: academy!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

word count: 3.3k

a/n: my first ever fanfic I’m posting <3 english is NOT my first language so if you encounter some spelling or grammar errors let me know! I’m happy to hear any criticism or recommendations and my inbox is open so feel free to share your thoughts and any requests 🤍 please reblog or support in any way you can if you enjoy it thank you!

You could hardly believe it was real. The moment seemed too surreal, too much like a dream, but the reality was undeniable. Lucy Gray, with her haunting song to the snakes, had captured not just the Capitol’s attention but their hearts as well. Even Dr. Gaul, who had initially refused to let her out, was forced to relent under the intense demands of the entire student body.

In that electrifying moment, Coryo and Lucy Gray became victors, and with them, you felt your world shift.

You were still trembling from the intensity of the past few minutes. Your breath came in shallow, uneven gasps, and your hands quivered with a mixture of relief and disbelief. Everything would be alright now.

You felt a huge grin spreading across your face, the kind that hurt your cheeks. Everything had worked out in the end—Coryo would get his prize money, he would attend university with you, and the Snows would finally find themselves in a better financial position.

All of his hard work, his cunning, his sacrifices—it had all paid off. It was like a dream come true, perhaps even better.

You closed your eyes for a moment, letting the euphoria wash over you. Memories of your friendship with Coriolanus began to flood your mind.

You thought back to the early days, back when everything seemed so uncertain and bleak. The Snow family had lost so much, their wealth, their power—everything had crumbled after the war. But through it all, Coryo had never given up.

You admired that about him, his tenacity and resolve, even when the odds were stacked so heavily against him.

You remembered how the two of you would sit together in the Academy’s courtyard, discussing your plans for the future, as if speaking them out loud would make them more likely to happen.

He would always say, “We’ll get through this, you and I. We’ll find a way.”

And you had believed him, because despite everything, Coryo had a way of making you believe that anything was possible.

You had been there through the the tough times. When they had nothing to eat for days leaving him and Tigris alone in that cavernous, crumbling apartment, the remnants of a life that once promised so much. You’d seen him struggle to keep up appearances, to maintain a semblance of dignity despite the whispers and the pitying glances from others.

But through it all, he remained determined, and you stood by his side, offering what little comfort and support you could. He’d never once asked for your help, but you’d given it anyway, because that’s what friends did.

And then came the Games. You knew from the start that Coriolanus would be an exceptional mentor, but you also knew how high the stakes were for him. Winning wasn’t just about pride or glory; it was about survival. It was about securing a future, not just for himself, but for Tigris, for the memory of his family.

You had watched him throw himself into the role with everything he had, determined to make a success of it, even as others doubted him.

Now, standing there among the cheering students, you felt that familiar swell of pride. He had done it. Against all odds, Coriolanus Snow had not only survived but thrived. And in doing so, he had proven to everyone—most of all to himself—that he was capable of greatness.

But you had to see him, had to touch him, to truly believe it.

The Academy space where the mentors had gathered was a cacophony of noise and movement. Students were on their feet, celebrating, congratulating him. You were seated in the back rows, and it was a struggle to make your way through the throng of bodies. You pushed through the crowd, muttering apologies and excuses as you went, your eyes scanning for that distinctive head of blond, almost white curls.

Finally, you spotted him. Coriolanus was standing with Tigris, his face lit up with a smile so genuine and full of relief that it gave him an almost otherworldly glow. The look of pure triumph on his features made your heart swell with happiness, if such a thing was even possible at this point.

As you drew closer, you could see the exhaustion etched into his features, the toll the Games had taken on him, but also the undeniable joy of victory.

“Coryo,” you called out, not too loudly, but just enough for him to hear. He turned at the sound of your voice, his eyes brightening even more when he saw you. Without a second thought, you hurried toward him, and as soon as you were within reach, you wrapped him in a tight, almost bone-crushing hug.

He held you just as tightly, his arms wrapping around you like a lifeline. For a moment, it felt like the two of you were the only people in the room, the sea of students and the noise fading into the background.

Coryo clung to you as if he never wanted to let go, his breath warm against your ear, and you could feel his heart pounding against your chest.

“You did it,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion, tears welling up in your eyes. “You actually did it.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands coming up to cradle your face, his thumbs gently brushing away the tears that had started to fall.

“I knew you could do it, Coryo,” you continued, your voice trembling but full of conviction. “I never once doubted you. I’m so proud of you.”

His gaze softened at your words, and for a brief moment, the stoic mask he usually wore cracked, revealing the vulnerable boy underneath. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice low and full of gratitude. “Thank you for everything. For being by my side, for never giving up on me.”

“Always,” you replied, your voice barely more than a breath. The two of you stood there, foreheads pressed together, savoring the moment.

It was a small pocket of peace amidst the chaos, a brief respite where nothing else mattered but the two of you.

You thought back to all those times he had confided in you, those late-night talks where he shared his fears, his doubts, and his hopes. You knew Coryo better than anyone, perhaps even better than Tigris. You knew how deeply he felt things, even though he tried to hide it behind a calm, composed exterior.

You knew how much this victory meant to him—not just for the tangible rewards it would bring, but for what it represented. This was proof that he could rise above his circumstances, that he could reclaim the Snow family’s honor, that he could be someone who mattered.

But as with all moments, this one couldn’t last forever. The crowd around you began to press in again, and Coriolanus was soon whisked away by more well-wishers.

He drank posca, shook hands, and accepted congratulations with a grace that seemed almost second nature to him. Yet you could tell that this victory had loosened something in him, something that had been tightly wound for far too long.

As you watched him navigate the crowd, you felt a swell of pride that was almost overwhelming. This was the Coriolanus Snow you knew—a natural leader, someone who could command a room with just his presence. And yet, beneath that polished exterior, there was still the boy you had grown up with, the boy who had faced more hardships than most would ever know.

You knew that this moment would change everything for him, for both of you. The prize money would secure his future, ensuring that he could attend university and continue on the path you had both dreamed about.

The Snow family name would be restored, and with it, a sense of dignity that had been sorely lacking for so long. For the first time in years, Coryo’s future looked bright, and you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of satisfaction knowing that you had played a part in helping him reach this point.

Soon enough, a voice rang out over the noise, commanding that Coriolanus report to the High Lab immediately.

The summons didn’t seem unusual—after all, he was the victor’s mentor, and surely they would want to congratulate him in person, perhaps even offer him some insight into what would happen next. Maybe he would get to see Lucy Gray again, to explain what had happened in those final, crucial moments.

You watched as Coryo set off, his steps confident, his back straight. He was walking toward his new life, a life that would finally give him the recognition and security he had fought so hard for.

As he reached the doors and paused, he turned back for just a moment, his eyes seeking yours. He gave you a small, reassuring smile—the kind that said everything was going to be okay.

And in that moment, you believed it. You returned his smile, your heart full to bursting with love and pride. This was just the beginning of a bright and promising future, and nothing could dim the light of this victory.

Coryo gave a final nod and then turned, pushing the doors open and stepping through, leaving the noise and the crowd behind him. As the doors closed, you stood there, feeling an overwhelming sense of peace and contentment. Everything had worked out just as it should.

Everything was going to be alright.

You had gone home soon after Coryo left for the high lab, still aglow with excitement. The manor's grand halls felt almost empty, echoing your unspoken anticipation. You could hardly wait to share your joy with Coryo—just the two of you, away from the world's gaze.

You greeted your parents as you passed through the living room, where they sat absorbed in the Capitol news.

Your mother, wrapped in a luxurious shawl, watched Lucky Flickerman with a serene smile. Your father, seated with his customary stern expression, barely glanced up.

You quickly made your way to your quarters, jittery and impatient.

After hours of trying to kill time, trying not to worry about the worst you decided you had enough. Each second of silence, with no calls or messages from Coryo or Tigris, increased your anxiety. What could be delaying them? Were they intentionally avoiding you, or had something gone awry?

Your frustration mounted. You couldn't bear to stay in your room any longer. The adrenaline of your excitement had not yet worn off, and now you were driven by a mix of worry and determination. With no further ado, you decided to head to the Snows' penthouse.

You left your room and walked briskly down the hall, informing your parents of your intentions. “I’m going to see Coryo,” you said, trying to sound casual.

“Oh, but haven’t you talked to him already, dear?” Your mother asked, her voice laced with concern. “It’s quite late to be heading out.”

Your father’s eyes narrowed with disapproval. He was always stringent about your associations and activities. Relationships before marriage were forbidden in your household, and in the Capitol elite, it was considered unacceptable for a young woman to have a suitor without a promise of marriage.

“Tigris invited me over,” you explained smoothly. “We’re just going to celebrate. His grandmother will be there too. It’s just a nice gesture, really. An honor.”

The lie slipped effortlessly from your lips. Growing up with strict rules had honed your skill in deceit.

“Well, alright then,” your mother said with a hesitant smile. “But don’t stay out too late. And make sure to return before midnight.”

“Just be careful,” your father added gruffly, his gaze following you as you left.

With their reluctant approval, you stepped out of the manor and instructed your chauffeur to drive you to the Corso.

As you exited the car, the cool night air hit you like a refreshing wave, contrasting sharply with the heat of your nervousness. “Wait here,” you told the driver, hurrying towards the Snows' apartment. The street was quiet, the world seemingly paused in the wake of recent events.

At the Snows’ penthouse, you knocked a few times, your heart pounding with anticipation. The door creaked open slowly. It was Tigris, her usually bright demeanor replaced with a shadow of sorrow. Her face, streaked with tears, made your heart sink.

“Tigris, is everything alright?What happened? Where’s Coryo?” you asked, your voice trembling.

Tigris’s pitiful smile offered little comfort. She placed her hands gently on your shoulders, squeezing them in a gesture of uneasy sympathy. “I think you should talk to him. He’s in his room.”

The unease in her voice only deepened your worry. “Tigris, please, tell me what’s going on. I need to know.”

She sighed heavily, her voice a whisper. “It should be Coryo who tells you.”

Your patience snapped. You rushed to Coryo’s room, your mind racing. The Snows’ modest apartment, a reflection of their strained finances, was familiar to you, but tonight it seemed more forlorn than ever. You passed the grandmother, her stoic expression masking her own despair.

The door to Coryo’s room was ajar. You pushed it open gently and peered inside. “Coryo?” you called out softly.

He stood in the center of the room, his once confident presence now subdued. His back was turned to you. He was packing.

The ethereal glow that had surrounded him in the academy was gone, replaced by a deep, palpable sadness. He turned at the sound of your arrival. His usual calm demeanor was marred by a profound sorrow reflected in his eyes.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice soft and weary, as if seeing you for the first and last time.

You rushed to him, your concern overflowing. “Is everything alright? What happened in the High Lab? Did Gaul hurt you?” Even the thought made your stomach twist.

He took a deep breath and guided you to sit on the edge of his bed. Then he began to explain: the rat compact, the rat poison, the incriminating handkerchief.

They had pieced it all together—the cheating, the deceit, and Highbottom’s decision to offer him a chance at redemption as a peacekeeper. The devastating conclusion was clear: banishment for twenty years.

As he spoke, the world seemed to collapse around you. The realization was like a punch to the gut—a cruel twist of fate. Coryo’s life, once filled with promise, was now reduced to ashes. There was no solution, no fixing this. This wasn't a schol assignment gone wrong, this was real life.

The dream you had cherished was burning down before your eyes.

“No, this… this can’t be happening,” you whispered, trying to grasp the enormity of it all.

“Yes, it can,” Coryo said bitterly. “It’s already decided.”

You struggled to hold back your tears. “So, when are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow at dawn,” he murmured, his voice hollow. He couldn’t meet your gaze. The weight of failure and impending separation was too much for him to bear.

Your heart ached for him—this young man who had faced so much adversity and yet still carried the burden of his family’s future on his shoulders. The thought of losing him, of never seeing him again, was almost unbearable.

Coryo’s gaze finally met yours, and he saw the silent tears streaming down your cheeks. His own heart clenched with a new kind of pain. “Y/N,” he said desperately, “please don’t cry. I hate it when you do that.”

You tried to steady your breathing, but the tears kept coming. “I’m sorry, it’s just… I’m not ready to let you go, Coryo. It shouldn’t have ended like this.”

Coryo pulled you into his arms, letting your tears soak into his uniform. He held you tightly, his own despair mingling with the comfort he tried to offer. He hated feeling like this. Out of control. He couldn't help you. Hell he couldn't help himself.

You clung to him as if he were the only anchor in a stormy sea.

Eventually, you lay down together on his bed, your bodies intertwined. You traced random shapes on his chest, while he stared blankly at the ceiling. After a few quiet moments, you spoke softly, “Maybe I’ll be able to visit you someday.”

Coryo smiled sadly. “I doubt it. Even if you could, I wouldn’t want you around those district savages.” He said the last part bitterly, not hiding his hatred for the districts.

You countered gently, “Not everyone from the districts is terrible. Look at Lucy Gray—she’s from the districts and she’s wonderful.”

Coryo stiffened at the mention of Lucy Gray. “Lucy Gray is special. She’s not like the others. And she’s not from the districts. She’s Covey.” He clarified.

“If you say so,” you sighed, not wanting to argue. “Well, if we both survive, we’ll see each other in twenty years.”

Coryo fell silent at your words. You could sense something was troubling him.

“What’s bothering you, Coryo?” you asked, your gaze fixed on him. “And don’t lie to me. I can tell when something’s wrong.”

He hesitated, then spoke with a voice heavy with regret. “It’s just the thought that you’ll move on, have a family, and live a life without me. I won’t be part of it.”

Your heart ached at his words. “Oh, Coryo, you’ll always be part of my life. I’ll think of you every single day until my last breath.” You assured him.

Coryo’s eyes met yours with a mix of sadness and longing. “I won’t be the man who gives you children, who makes you the First Lady of Panem. I won’t be part of your future.”

The though of not having something that was rightfully his infuriated him.

At his words you were shook to your core. A pregnant silence followed.

As he spoke, you realized that your feelings for him—feelings you had tried to ignore—might not have been unrequited after all. The lingering touches and secret glances were not merely figments of your imagination.

Coryo was looking at you with a tenderness that spoke of deep, unspoken emotions.

Guided by an unknown force, you leaned closer, your breaths mingling. Your faces were inches apart, and then his lips were gently brushing against yours.

What began as a soft touch quickly turned into a passionate, fervent kiss. It was a culmination of all the emotions, fears, and unspoken words of the day. Coryo’s hands cradled your face with a tenderness that spoke of how much you meant to him.

Your fingers tangled in his hair as you kissed him with the intensity of knowing that this might be the last time you ever could.

After what felt like an eternity, you pulled back, both of you panting heavily. You embraced each other tightly, laying your head on his chest.

The silence between you was filled with everything that words could not express. Goodbye, I love you, I don’t want to lose you—each emotion was conveyed in that single, passionate kiss.

As you closed your eyes, trying to drift off to sleep despite the circumstances, you were acutely aware of every precious moment with Coryo.

You ignored the time and your parents’ warning, finding solace in his arms. His breathing eventually slowed to a steady rhythm, and you found comfort in his presence.

The pale moonlight streaming through the cracks in the wall was the only witness to this intimate moment between two young lovers facing an uncertain future.

Coryo’s arms remained around you, their embrace a fragile anchor amidst the turmoil.

As sleep threatened to overtake you, a profound sadness washed over you. You wished for a reality where everything had turned out differently—where Casca Highbottom’s cruelty hadn’t shattered your dreams. The future you had imagined with Coryo seemed to slip further away with each passing second.

In the dead of night, you whispered the truth that would haunt you forever, “You’re the loss of my life, Coriolanus Snow.”

© COPYRIGHT BELQVA 2024

SHARING THIS, ANY OF MY OTHER WORKS OR A TRANSLATION OF THEM WITHOUT CONSENT ON THIS OR ANY OTHER PLATFORM IS STRICTLY FORBIDDEN !!!

THE PLOT OF THE BALLAD OF SONGBIRDS AND SNAKES OR ANY OF THE CHARACTERS DO NOT BELONG TO ME THIS IS JUST A WORK OF FANFICTION !!!

tags:

[eroselless]

────────────── sommer house // 1

series summary: After starting a new job at a prestigious museum in London, you form a close friendship with Helaena Targaryen. You're surprised when she invites you to stay at her family's estate for the summer holidays. [1.7k]

[aegon targaryen x reader, modern!HOTD AU ]

masterlist

warnings: talk and description of bugs. if there's any I missed, let me know!

note: hello friends! I’m sure some of you might be a little confused seeing this coming up again. after much contemplating and many many re-reads, I decided I would rewrite what I had of moth to a flame now that I had more inspiration and motivation. for this first chapter, it’s not much different from my first draft but I removed and added a few things that I thought made the story begin flowing a lot better. thank you for the support and happy reading <3

Dashing through the rain, your coat pulled tightly around you, you navigate the bustling streets of London. The sky opened up as you were leaving the train station, drenching you instantly. You’re breathless when you reach the entrance of the museum, soaked to the bone with hair sticking to your forehead. Pausing briefly under the awning, you try to catch your breath, shaking off as much rain as you could before hurrying inside, the patter of rainfall fading behind you. 

The familiar warmth and silence of the museum envelop you, offering a stark contrast to the chaotic weather outside. The lights are dim and if you listen closely, you could swear you can hear soft music permeating the air. 

You make your way to the back of the museum, passing through employee doors and to the entomology department, where you knew Helaena would be waiting. Rounding a corner, you see you. She stands at the entrance of your shared office, a steaming cup of coffee in her hand. She leans against the doorframe, her free hand fiddling with the key card that hangs around her neck. It’s 5 past 9, you're not that late and her casual demeanour only makes for a comforting sight.

“Rough morning?” she asks, a grin on her lips as she entends the cup of coffee towards you. 

“Don’t even get me started,” you reply, taking the cup and making your way past her into the room. “The tube was a nightmare. Some sort of signal failure. I’m surprised I made it at all.”

Helaena laughs, “You wouldn’t have to deal with the tube if you drove,” she teases, raising her eyebrows. Following you to your desk, she stands in front as you set your things down. You roll your eyes at her, making a face, to which she responds with a half-smirk.

You met Helaena three months ago when you first started working at the museum. After a seemingly endless job search, you happened upon one that just happened to be in a country halfway across the world. Seeing as how you fit all of the requirements, you pushed fear aside, taking a leap. You packed up what you could and made your way to London. The idea of working in another country had always captivated you, but the reality of moving hadn’t fully sunk in until you stepped off the plane. Everything felt surreal—the accents, the bustling streets, the historical buildings whispering stories of the past.

Working in the entomology department with Helaena, you spent countless hours cataloging and preserving the museum’s vast insect collection. The late nights became routine, often the two of you working late into the night, at times at each other's homes. Her companionship made the hours more bearable. Helaena quickly became more than just a colleague; she became a friend, someone you could rely on and share with. 

Clapping her hands, a wide smile now on her face, Helaena turns to you from a large cluster of boxes: "Well, you're here now, and just in time; we've got a ton to do today."

Settling into your desks, surrounded by cabinets filled with specimens and shelves lined with books and equipment, the morning passes quickly.

You take turns pulling out cases from the large boxes, a new shipment from South America, examining and cataloging each specimen. Each one is carefully inspected, labeled and documented. The vibrant colors and intricate patterns never cease to amaze you, each telling a different tale. 

As the afternoon rolls around, you find yourself leading a group of young school children through an interactive exhibit, one you spent the last week preparing with Helaena, explaining the life cycles of different insects and answering their curious questions. Their eyes widen as you show them the cases of insects, pointing out each of their intricate and unique features. Together, you carefully examine drawers of pinned needles, getting lost in the details of their iridescent shells.

The children nod as you explain different insects, jotting down notes in their small notebooks to bring back to school. Their laughter and curiosity makes the rest of the day pass quickly, their enthusiasm making even the most mundane tasks feel rewarding. 

The day winds down from there, the absence of the children making you realize how tired you’d gotten. You put the exhibits back into their boxes, making sure everything is in its place for the groups coming in tomorrow and the day after that. From the corner of your eye you can see Helaena making her way to you, rolling a cart identical to yours. There’s a thoughtful expression on her face. 

"So, any plans for the summer holidays? They're not gonna need us at all during these renovations they're doing," she inquired, pursing her lips at you.

You shake your head as you continue placing boxes onto your cart. “I would but I can’t afford to go home right now. I’ll probably just stay in London and explore the city or something.”

Helaena’s face lights up. “Why don’t you come with me to my family’s country estate? We’re having a big party for my dad’s retirement. It’ll be a nice change of pace and you can officially meet my family. They’ll adore you.”

Your lips part as you stare at her wordlessly. “Are you sure?” you asked, searching her eyes, 

Helaena waves you off, “Of course!” she exclaims, shaking her head. “"It'll be fun. Besides, it would be nice to have another girl there so I don’t have to deal with my brothers all on my own. Say you’ll come," she pleads.

The thought of spending the holidays with Helaena, surrounded by the English countryside and her family’s hospitality, race through your mind. It sent a shiver of nerves through you. You knew very little about her family, only hearing of her brothers in passing. You’d seen them in pictures she had littered around her apartment and on her facebook. You met her mother, if you can call speaking to her briefly over the phone, one night that you spent the night at Helaena’s. Her older sister and her father were a complete mystery to you, both of them a subject she didn’t ever really talk about. 

She bats her eyes at you, gently wrapping her arms around yours. You let out a sigh, breaking out in a smile. “Alright, I’ll come.” you laugh, and she throws her arms around your shoulders. 

:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

It's a few days later you find yourself tossing clothes at Helaena. The afternoon sunlight streams through the window behind her. Her hair is loose, falling in soft waves over her shoulders. It looks as if it were glowing. She sits on your bed, gingerly folding different shirts and pants into your bag. Rejected piles of clothes are strewn across your bed, shoes littering the floor and small packing cubes full of toiletries and makeup sit next to your gradually filling case. 

“What about this?” you ask. Swaying slightly, you hold a dress up to your chest. It’s red and covered in polka dots with a large white bow cinching the middle. Her face stays in a slight grimace, shaking her head and laughing.

"We need to get you some new dresses; these look like they belong in a history museum," she says with a playful smile. You laugh, shoving her shoulder as you tuck the dress back into the wardrobe. She pulls a knitted sweater from the edge of your bed and tucks it tightly into your bag.

Once your outfits are sufficiently coordinated and your essentials pulled into packing cubes, Helaena helps you pack them into your suitcase, ensuring you have enough of everything you need for your stay. She speaks up when you struggle with the zipper. 

“So, I know you’ve sort of met Mum and you’ll be meeting everyone else while we're there.  My sister is even coming with her children. A fair warning, though having everyone there can be a bit … intense but they’re good people.”

You note her hesitation. “Intense how?”

Helana shrugs, trying to downplay her words. “It can get a little overwhelming, is all. But you’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

You nod an ok at her, climbing on and bouncing on your suitcase to press it shut with your knees. She joins you, twisting with you as you begin to pull on the zipper. 

"The place’s been in my family for generations. There’s lots of history there, places you could get lost in. You’ll really love it.”

You struggle for a little bit, pulling the zip a little more to fully close the case before sitting on it, breathless. 

"What was it like, growing up in a place like that?" you ask, looking up at her as she takes her spot back on the edge of your bed. 

Helaena smiles, a distant look in her eyes. It's a smile that has a drop of sadness behind it. "It was magical. There are all these secret passages and hidden rooms. We used to play hide and seek for hours.” 

She traces a pattern on your quilt as she continues speaking. “We each got puppies at some point and when we’d pretend we were princes and princesses, my brothers would pretend they were dragons.” 

There's a bittersweet expression on her face as she recounts the memory. It's not an expression you're used to seeing on her face but it’s one she seems to fall back to every time she speaks of home. You can’t help but to be curious about it but you always stop before prying or saying anything. You smile, reaching out a hand and placing it on her knee. It pulls her out of her momentary daze and she flashes a smile at you. A mixture of nerves and anticipation fill you again. "I can’t wait," you say with a soft sigh.

Helaena looks at you, her eyes sparkling. "You're going to love it. It’s like stepping back in time. Just be prepared for a bit of drama; there’s always something happening when we're all together."

"Drama?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, you know, family stuff. Arguments, misunderstandings, that sort of thing. But it’s all part of the charm," she says with a wink.

You laugh, feeling a bit more at ease. "Well, I’m ready for anything."

With the suitcase finally zipped, you both collapse onto the bed, giggling. Helaena turns to you, her expression softening. "I’m really glad you’re coming. It’s going to be a summer to remember."

If you want to support my writing you can buy me a coffee over on Ko-Fi <3

[chiqelatasblog]

In the Middle of the Night🌙

-> Ao3 link is here.

-> Part Four is here.

Pairings : Bi-Han/ Sub- Zero x Reader, Kuai Liang/ Scorpion x Reader, Tomas Vrbada/ Smoke x Reader

Author’s Note : I apologize for the delay! The past couple of weeks have been incredibly stressful for me. I had several meetings and had to write protocols for my client’s case. Additionally, I visited a friend who was staying in a different province, four hours away from where I live. Everything seemed to overlap (and to top it off, even my menstrual cycle was 17 days late due to the stress). But now, everything seems to be settling down, and I’ve managed to clear my mind and focus on writing this chapter as soon as possible. I decided to split this chapter into two parts because I felt it would have a better impact, and I wanted to give the final chapter its own spotlight. I hope you enjoy reading it! Thank you for your patience and understanding.❤️

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CHAPTER FIVE : (READER)

Until now, you never thought that you could fall in love with three people at the same time.

You didn’t realize a few months ago that such a thing was possible, but now it felt as natural and normal to you as breathing. It was as if Bi-Han, Kuai Liang, and Tomas had always been a part of your life. You got used to their presence so easily that now it’s hard to imagine your life without them; you were so attached to them. It was a fact that you didn’t know them until a few months ago, but although you couldn’t quite describe it, it felt as if your souls had known each other for a long time. Your movements resembled pieces of a jigsaw puzzle—they were so complete. There was a nonverbal communication between you; sometimes you could effortlessly communicate without speaking, even just by looking. This situation was very special and unique for you, as you had never made such a connection with anyone before.

Each moment spent with them felt like a blessing. When Bi-Han’s stern gaze softened just for you, it made you feel cherished in a way you had never experienced before. Kuai Liang’s calm presence was a sanctuary, a steady anchor in the chaos of life. And Tomas, with his unyielding loyalty and kindness, filled your heart with warmth and light. The bond you shared with them was deeper than mere friendship. It was an unspoken promise, a silent understanding that no matter what happened, you would stand by them. You hadn’t yet said it out loud to any of them, but you loved all three with a special bond and emotion. Your actions and looks might have betrayed your feelings, but you lacked the courage to put it into words.

You would find yourself watching them, feeling an overwhelming sense of gratitude and affection. The way Tomas’s eyes glinted with mischief when he teased you, or how Bi-Han’s rare, gentle smiles made your heart flutter. Kuai Liang’s reassuring touch or kiss on your shoulder during moments of doubt spoke volumes about his unwavering support. Each of these little things cemented their place in your heart, making it impossible to imagine a future without them.

They had become a part of you, woven into the very fabric of your existence. And even though the words were yet to be spoken, your heart had already made its choice. They were the kind of people you would want to keep hidden in your heart forever, to protect and watch over.

Loving Tomas was like experiencing spring. He wasn’t as serious as his two brothers; he was polite, with a naivety that softened the expression in his light gray eyes, making them irresistible to look at. Despite the scars on his soul from a very young age, Tomas was brave. He was the first person to choose to trust you, and that trust felt like a precious gift. His sense of humor was not only funny but remarkably similar to yours, making your conversations a source of endless delight. His presence was like feeling the gentle warmth of the sun after the harsh cold of a long black winter. Every moment spent with him was filled with hope and joy, like the first flowers of the season blooming and signaling new beginnings.

His love was tender and kind, much like the soft rain that revives the earth after a prolonged drought. Being with him allowed you to embrace your inner child, escaping the harsh realities of life. You found joy in the simple pleasures of watching TV shows or movies together, taking care of mundane tasks, having small, meaningful conversations, and spending time with Ninja. His ability to bring simplicity and happiness into your life made every moment with him feel like a cherished memory in the making.

Loving Kuai Liang was like experiencing summer. His body was warmer than normal due to his pyromancy, and you found yourself surrounded by a gentle, safe warmth next to him, especially when wrapped in his strong arms. It was such a soothing feeling that most of the time, it made your eyelids feel heavy and sleepy because of the peace you felt. Although touching Kuai Liang was wonderful, he was afraid to touch you because of his dark past, fearing that he might tarnish you. When you heard that, it felt like you had been shot in the brain, and your heart painfully squeezed thinking about what this strong man had been subjected to. None of them had told you exactly what they had been through in the past—you knew bits about what happened with Leilani and a few other masters, but nothing more—but it wasn’t difficult to guess. So you left it entirely up to them to control the speed at which they wanted to move forward in the process. You wanted them to know that they had this power, that they had a say.

Every time you spent with Kuai Liang filled you with a vibrant energy, warming you to the core like basking in sunlight. His love was wild and passionate, yet he was also incredibly kind; it set your soul ablaze, much like the intense heat of a scorching day. You felt comfortable next to him, his presence enveloping you like warm summer nights. You enjoyed walking outdoors with him, cooking together with his help (especially since discovering his distinct fondness for sweets last week), chatting about past missions, and witnessing the proud expression on his face when you asked him to show his powers.

Loving Bi-Han was like experiencing winter. His true self, which emerged after overcoming his initially harsh and inaccessible exterior, exuded a unique warmth that demonstrated winter was not just about coldness. Like soft snowflakes falling to the ground in the serene beauty of a winter landscape, his touch was gentle and filled with longing. Though not as openly expressive as his two brothers, you could sense his love in the way he touched you or looked at you every time. Despite the coldness that seemed to envelop him, his gaze held a warm invitation that melted away the chill, filling you with a warmth that drew you to him.

Unlike Kuai Liang, Bi-Han was not one to avoid contact. Although the ice forces surrounding him usually caused harm to both himself and others, this rule didn’t seem to apply to you. Since realizing this, it was as if he couldn’t stop touching you. He never verbalized it, but every time a part of his body—his arm, hand, or leg—came into contact with yours, it was evident how much he cared. Though his touch initially felt cold and eerie, you soon grew accustomed to it, even finding it addictive. Despite appearances, Bi-Han served as the cornerstone among the brothers, keeping them united and shielded with his protective and steadfast demeanor. Being included in that circle filled your heart with love and made you feel special.

Even though Bi-Han was the last to let down his walls around you, getting used to him was quick and effortless, much like with the other brothers. You enjoyed conversing with him about his clan, listening to him describe his daily routines, and especially watching the city view in the evenings. The silence felt peaceful rather than suffocating, allowing for a range of unexpressed emotions to be felt in that moment. Moreover, witnessing his moments of care for Ninja when he thought no one was watching was another detail that melted your heart.

You were deeply connected to three men in a way that scared you a little. Your emotions were incredibly intense—the love you felt for them, their choice to trust you despite their painful pasts, the respect you held for their strength and courage, your anger at the injustices they faced, and your desire for revenge. You had never experienced such emotions so clearly and intensely, shaking you to the core. It was somewhat frightening, as your priorities suddenly shifted to them instead of yourself. Your sole focus became freeing them from the clutches of the book and its curse, with less than a week and a half remaining until the deadline.

Despite your efforts, you hadn’t found a solution yet. Since the owner of the book could only summon them once, you wouldn’t be able to see them again after the time limit passed. The thought of this damned you, filling your heart with great fear at the prospect of what they might face if Sektor failed to protect them when he came to retrieve the book after you, and it fell into the hands of a new person.

You were prepared to do whatever it took to prevent this outcome, but the lack of a solution filled you with terrible anxiety and drove you to the brink of madness. Just two months ago, your biggest concern was unemployment and paying rent, but now your problems had evolved into something entirely different. Your own worries seemed insignificant compared to the future of the men you loved. Breaking this curse had become the most important thing in your life right now.

Bi-Han’s change in attitude towards you had somewhat lessened the effect of the curse on you. However, it remained a relentless force, constantly gnawing at you in a corner of your mind. Whenever you were close to Tomas, Kuai Liang, or Bi-Han, it seemed to roar in your mind, filling you with a desire that was hard to resist. Your skin practically begged you to touch them, and sometimes the desire was so intense that it felt like you were engulfed in flames—it hurt and clouded your judgment, making you feel almost foolish. At times, the urge became so overwhelming that finding refuge in the bathroom seemed to be the only solution. While your fingers didn’t always provide the satisfaction you sought, they at least allowed you to regain some semblance of control. But the lingering feeling in your mind never disappeared. It was akin to eating without feeling satiated—it was relentless and unyielding.

Each passing day seemed to bring a new level of torment, as if the curse intensified with every sunrise. The pain became unbearable, almost akin to torture. You couldn’t eat, sleep, or even think properly in the last couple of days. Functioning normally seemed impossible, and at times, it became so overwhelming that even breathing felt like a challenge. You didn’t know how to endure this any longer. You were painfully aware that each day was worse than the last, and yet there seemed to be no end in sight. You were drowning in a sea of agony, struggling to keep your head above water.

Despite the agony you endured, you were determined to bear the burden alone. You knew that all three of them wanted to help you, hating to see you suffer. Yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to accept their help. You didn’t want them to be involved with the curse in any way. Forgiving and moving on with your life would be impossible if they intervened, so you chose to ignore them and continue caring for yourself in your own way.

Thrusting your hands into the pockets of your raincoat, you gazed up at the reddening sky, returning from yet another unsuccessful job interview. How you wished the answer lay somewhere out there. You had tried everything written in all the sources you could access, masking your disappointment even as each failure chipped away at your hope. Trying to guess how they felt and what they were thinking only added to your frustration, yet you refrained from showing it, knowing they needed your support more than your despair. In the ten years since they were cursed, they had endured far more disappointments than you had faced in two months. You could imagine how futile it must have felt for them to continue hoping. They had exhausted their strength fighting disappointment after disappointment, opting instead to cherish the present moment—a reality that broke your heart a little.

The fact that they had accepted their situation and grown tired of fighting weighed heavily on you. Yet, you couldn’t blame them for choosing this path. Instead, you took it upon yourself to fight for them. However, with each passing day and no solution to the curse in sight, a heavy weight descended upon your shoulders, threatening to crush you. Despite the growing despair, you knew you had to keep fighting for them. You were their only hope, their only chance at breaking the curse.

Witnessing them struggle against the influence of their past only intensified your own turmoil. Despite Tomas sometimes managing to fall asleep, there were nights when he woke up with unfamiliar eyes, as if he didn’t recognize where he was, his body stiffening as if his breath would be snatched away. Occasionally, you were able to calm him down in the morning, but even then, Tomas seemed powerless against his own imposing body.

Kuai Liang, on the other hand, often woke up drenched in sweat from nightmares, avoiding your attempts to soothe him. He repeatedly muttered about his fear of contaminating you too, leaving you barely holding yourself together as you fought the urge to tightly embrace him. His pain was palpable, almost physically hurting you.

As for Bi-Han, there were times when he hadn’t slept for days, his body tensed with the need to protect them from imagined external dangers, leaving small traces of ice and freezing cold wherever he passed. Rings of exhaustion encircled his eyes, his face taking on a statuesque and lifeless appearance, his gaze fixed on the windows and doors. It took you hours to convince him that there was no imminent danger and coax him into relaxation.

All three of them exuded danger; their capabilities to take lives were apparent from their looks and the threatening aura they emitted. Their muscular, powerful bodies spoke of a lifetime of training for combat. This reality became especially clear when they touched you—it was too easy for them to cause harm if they chose to. They possessed a suppressed power that pained you to witness. Despite being honorable men, it must have wounded their pride and soul to see themselves in such a vulnerable state.

Your train of thought was abruptly halted by the sound of someone calling your name. As you lifted your gaze from the sidewalk, you were met with the sight of a stranger standing beside Sektor, the same man you had encountered weeks ago under rather peculiar circumstances. Sektor, as formal as ever, greeted you, his black hair streaked with long gray tufts and his neatly trimmed beard suggesting recent grooming. Standing beside him was a figure who exuded an otherworldly aura, his piercing blue eyes unsettling and filled with an uncanny intensity. With a formal gesture, he crossed his arms, revealing intricate dragon tattoos that seemed to shimmer with an ethereal glow, mirroring the luminance of his gaze. Despite the chill in the air, there was an unexpected warmth in his smile as he uttered your first and last name, as if he had been anticipating your arrival.

You stood frozen, momentarily taken aback by the presence of the enigmatic figure before you. Tentatively, you ventured, “Lord Liu Kang?”

“Yes,” came the calm reply, confirming his identity. Despite his formidable stature and commanding presence, his voice carried a soothing timbre, putting you somewhat at ease. Strands of his long, obsidian hair were gathered in a half bun behind him, dressed in traditional Far Eastern attire, his hands were swathed in bandages, to his hand to elbow. It was surprising to see him in such ordinary garb, far removed from the divine image you had conjured in your mind. Yet, there was an undeniable aura of power and authority that emanated from him, accentuated by the eerie glow of his tattoos and the intensity of his gaze.

“Sektor has briefed me on the situation and the curse,” Liu Kang continued, taking a deliberate step forward. “May I have a word?”

As you silently nodded in agreement, Liu Kang motioned for you to follow him, leaving Sektor behind as the two of you made your way to a more secluded area, away from the crowd.

“Do you know how to break Quan Chi’s curse?” you voiced the question that had been weighing heavily on your mind since you first laid eyes on him. As a god, you assumed he held the answers to questions and problems that eluded mortals.

“It’s a curse I’ve encountered before,” he replied, his demeanor calm yet tinged with a hint of anger that simmered beneath the surface. “An ancient and demonic curse, leaving behind lasting damage, particularly to the mind. I am familiar with how to dispel such curses, but the solution is not one you will easily accept.”

“I want to save them.” Your voice suddenly became muffled, the tears that filled up as you thought about this situation and tried to hold them back, now that the three of them were not around, instantly began to flow down your cheeks. If you were a little embarrassed that you were crying in front of this man-god you never knew, the helplessness and grief you felt was even greater. “I can’t let them go back to the book again. What needs to be done to lift the curse? Please tell me, this has to stop.”

“You possess a pure heart,” The Fire God’s gaze fell upon you, a mix of sorrow and compassionate understanding that softened his features. “It has become increasingly rare to encounter individuals like you in this day and age… Black magic is inherently cruel, and so are its remedies,” he continued, his expression growing solemn. “There is only one method to lift the curse: the owner of the book must make a sacrificial offering of themselves.”

You fell into a stunned silence, grappling with the weight of his words as they reverberated in your mind. Your lips parted, but for a moment, it felt as though words had deserted you. Eventually, you managed to utter a whisper-like voice.

“So, what you’re saying is…”

“Death,” Liu Kang interjected sharply, his tone cutting through the air with finality. “This curse, rooted in ancient and potent sorcery, is designed by practitioners of black magic like Quan Chi to be unbreakable. The spell binds not only the cursed individuals but also the owner of the book, tethering your life energy to its pages until they return to its confines. Thus, any attempt to resist only serves to intensify the curse’s grip, compelling you to act against your will. The only path to freedom is through the ultimate sacrifice.”

Liu Kang’s gaze darkened with anger, a muscle twitching on his chin as his hands clenched into fists at his sides. His eyes, which seconds ago were warm and comforting, now blazed with righteous fury, their intensity piercing through the air like a searing flame.

“The curse is insidious,” he began, his voice laced with frustration. “It draws power from your life energy and intertwines it with their fate. As long as the owner of the book lives, the curse will persist. However,” he continued, his tone lowering to a solemn register, “if the owner willingly sacrifices their life, the curse will vanish along with the book, its source extinguished forever. It’s a trade-off, a cruel exchange that inevitably claims one side or the other. That’s the essence of black magic.”

You found yourself speechless, unable to even swallow past the lump in your throat. The gravity of Liu Kang’s words hung heavy in the air, casting a pall over your thoughts. Sacrifice your own life? The notion seemed incomprehensible, unfathomable, yet here it was, staring you in the face like an immutable truth carved in stone. With your family, dreams, and aspirations still within reach, could you bear to relinquish it all? Could you summon the courage to make such a sacrifice?

Strangely, these questions didn’t pierce your heart as much as the thought of never seeing all three of them again. Each day seemed more agonizing than the last, and you knew that the brave facade you wore didn’t fool anyone. Yet, you couldn’t bear the idea of burdening them with the curse’s weight and prompting them to take drastic action. You had found them too soon to lose them; the prospect losing them now felt unbearably cruel, like a dagger twisting in your soul. Their presence had became so integral to your life that you had actually forgotten what loneliness felt like.

You loved them, each with their own unique characteristics and qualities, with a possessive and fierce intensity unlike any love you had ever known. So when the answer came to you in a heartbeat, it didn’t scare you; instead, it settled on your shoulders like a comforting blanket, a peaceful weight that affirmed your resolve. Their needs, desires, and happiness were paramount to you, more precious than anything else in the world. As you reflected on the countless hardships they had endured, the thought of subjecting them to further suffering became unbearable. The power to end their torment lay within your grasp; you could not turn away from that responsibility. Though you couldn’t be with them in the way you longed for, you were determined to secure their well-being, even if it meant sacrificing your own life. They deserved nothing less than to reclaim the lives they had been denied for so long, to find happiness and peace in a world free from the curse’s grip.

“You don’t have to do this,” Liu Kang said, his voice soft yet filled with understanding.

“And shall I allow them to return to the book? No, I will never allow it,” you declared, your voice ringing with newfound determination. “I made a promise to them… My love for them eclipses all else, even my own life.”

Even as the curse neared its end, you couldn’t bear the thought of it being their final memory, tainted by your tears and suffering as each day brought more agony. You wanted to leave them with fond memories, to be remembered in a positive light. The idea of confessing your love to them seemed daunting until just ten minutes ago. Despite never feeling ready to bid them farewell, you knew it was inevitable.

“How am I to do it? With a knife?” you asked, your voice trembling with uncertainty. “I… I can’t take my own life. Will you help me?”

A myriad of emotions flickered across Liu Kang’s face, as if your question had unleashed a torrent of conflicting thoughts within him. You were taken aback by the sight of such ‘human’ emotions on the face of a god.

“I wish there were another way, one where you wouldn’t have to bear this burden alone,” Liu Kang sighed, his voice heavy with regret. “Bi-Han, Kuai Liang, and Tomas aren’t merely my chosen warriors; they’re also my friends—more than just allies. You are sacrificing yourself to save them; of course, I will assist you in any way I can.”

“And will you make it as painless as possible?” you asked, your voice tinged with a slight fear.

With a solemn nod, Liu Kang replied, “They will remember this act of immense bravery and courage for the rest of their lives. Your sacrifice, while saving them, will also haunt them forever.’’ You acknowledged it inwardly. Yet, the moment Liu Kang proposed the solution, your decision was made. You meant every word you said; they meant more to you than anything else, and you wanted them to reclaim the life that had been stolen from them. If sacrificing yourself was the path to ensure their freedom, then so be it.

“I want to bid them farewell,” you said, your gaze falling to the ground. “But the final act… I cannot bear to do it in front of them, especially Tomas. After what happened to his family, it would be too traumatic for him.”

‘’Of course,” Liu Kang replied, his voice filled with understanding. You gulped and lifted your gaze to the sky, silently observing the clusters of red clouds and the golden sun, its light waning as it prepared to set. The realization that this would be your final sunset weighed heavily on your chest, a palpable heaviness that seemed to anchor you to the ground. As you tried to swallow past the lump in your throat, a tear escaped, tracing a solitary path down your cheek. Your voice emerged hoarse, almost strained with emotion.

“I wish it hadn’t come to this. I would have cherished more moments with them.”

“Sometimes, even a god cannot interfere in the complex fabric of life,” Liu Kang said, tilting his head back to gaze at the sky alongside you. “Each thread is woven with its purpose and outcome. There are two paths before you, and the latter entails your choice to end your life. While I respect your decision, I must ask one last time: are you certain about this?”

As Liu Kang’s luminous blue eyes bore into yours, a sense of calm washed over you, a tranquility that spoke of acceptance and resolve.

“More than anything.”

***

As you returned home, it felt as though your body no longer belonged to you. You couldn’t recall how you had made the journey back; it was as if you had been moving through molasses, each step slow and heavy. Though your surroundings appeared blurred, your thoughts remained clear, cocooning you in a blanket of comfort and unwavering determination.

Upon softly opening the door, the scene that greeted you shattered what little remained of your heart. Bi-Han occupied the single seat he always favored, gently stroking Ninja’s head as the cat slept soundly in his lap. A rare, tender smile graced his lips, a sight that had become increasingly frequent in recent days. Meanwhile, Kuai Liang and Tomas sat cross-legged, engrossed in something on your laptop, their occasional laughter filling the room with warmth and joy. The serene atmosphere tugged at your heartstrings, leaving you both comforted and conflicted. How could you possibly break the news of your decision to them?

Caught in a state of frozen uncertainty, it was Kuai Liang who first noticed your presence. His expression of happiness dissolved into pure astonishment at the sight of Fire God and Sektor standing behind you.

“Lord Liu Kang?” he exclaimed, disbelief evident in his voice. As his words hung in the air, the rest of the brothers turned their heads towards the entrance, mirroring Kuai Liang’s surprise. They remained rooted in place for a few seconds before Bi-Han took decisive action. Carefully lowering Ninja to the ground, he strode forward to stand before Liu Kang, bowing his head respectfully in greeting.

“Lord Liu Kang.” Bi-Han uttered, his tone a mixture of reverence and warmth.

Liu Kang’s gentle smile widened as he placed both hands on Bi-Han’s shoulders, lifting him upright. “Bi-Han, it has indeed been a long time,” he acknowledged. His glowing eyes shifted to encompass Tomas and Kuai Liang, who had gathered behind Bi-Han. “It is truly a pleasure to see the warriors of the Lin Kuei, defenders of Earthrealm, and my friends once again.”

“The pleasure is ours,” Kuai Liang replied, his voice infused with warmth and sincerity as Bi-Han’s. They all expressed their respect and embraced each other in a brotherly hug, a sight that surprised you, especially seeing a god joining in. Engaging in small talk, their camaraderie was palpable. Bi-Han’s gaze then shifted towards Sektor, who stood silently beside you. His brow furrowed slightly, silently questioning his right-hand man.

“Sektor? You didn’t come all the way here just to show Lord Liu Kang, did you? It’s still more than a week until you’re supposed to take the book.”

Sektor didn’t answer, instead, when he gave you an evasive glance, Bi-Han instantly caught his gaze and his expression hardened. As he crossed his arms on both sides, the cold waves of air that began to spread over him tingled your skin.

‘’What’s going on?’’

‘’Bi-Han,” you interjected in a gentle, strained voice, struggling to suppress your emotions while the curse writhed inside you more cruelly than ever. The pain surged higher and more severe than you were accustomed to, causing your knees to momentarily tremble. Bi-Han easily grabbed you by the waist and pulled you to himself, his expression shifting from one of composure to one of anxious concern in an instant, causing your heart to flutter. Knowing how strict he was with himself about showing his feelings compared to his brothers, it filled you with happiness to see how much he had progressed in such a short period of time. It was the greatest proof of the depth of his feelings for you. Bi-Han was a stoic man, never one to show vulnerability. Seeing him like this now was both heartwarming and overwhelming. He was laying himself bare before you, offering his feelings on a platter, and you realized you could easily hurt him if you chose to, because he was showing you his vulnerability so openly.

“Are you all right?” Bi-Han’s hand gently cupped your face, his calloused fingers stroking your cheek. “Did you cry?”

At his question, Tomas and Kuai Liang turned their gaze toward you. You quickly composed yourself, the callouses on his hand providing a comforting touch against your skin. With a slight tremble in your voice, you managed a reassuring smile, your eyes reflecting a mixture of gratitude and sadness. You wanted to remain strong until the very end, to etch a lasting impression in their minds.

“I’m fine,” you replied, your voice surprisingly calm despite the turmoil within. You savored Bi-Han’s protective touch, the coolness of his skin a stark contrast to the warmth of his presence. The scent of cold and fresh snow emanating from him filled your senses, your fingers traced the contours of his strong features lovingly, committing each curve to memory. A lump formed in your throat, making it hard to swallow, as you fought back tears that threatened to spill over. Gently winding the few remaining tufts of his black hair into a small bun, you planted a tender kiss on his pale lips, conveying all your emotions in that fleeting moment. Stepping back, you caressed his cheek one last time, the rough texture of his short stubble a familiar sensation against your fingertips. Bi-Han’s expression grew increasingly worried, his furrowed eyebrows revealing his confusion as he searched your eyes for answers.

However, instead of offering an explanation, you gently slipped out of Bi-Han’s grasp and made your way to Kuai Liang, who stood beside him.

“What’s going on? Why are you acting like this?” Kuai Liang’s voice was laced with concern as he carefully cupped your face with both hands, his thumbs stroking your skin. You responded with a soft smile, kissing one of his palms before silencing him by placing your finger on his lips. His brow furrowed in confusion, the joy from moments ago fading from his face. You felt a pang of guilt for dampening his spirits, but you knew that everything you were about to do was for their well-being. They would no longer suffer, be exploited, or have their consent disregarded. They would reclaim their dignified lives, where they rightfully belonged.

As Kuai Liang fell silent, you withdrew your hand, savoring the warmth emanating from his body for what would be the last time. Despite his formidable appearance, he exuded a comforting aura, his skin radiating health, his stance unwavering. The faint scent of ash, a remnant of his pyromancy, mingled with the aroma of cedar reminiscent of summer nights, enveloping his bronze-toned physique. His amber-brown eyes, usually filled with determination, now held a soft, worried gaze as they met yours.

Struggling to maintain your smile, you rose onto tiptoe and pressed a gentle kiss to Kuai Liang’s lips. “It will be all right.” you assured him, though your voice faltered toward the end. Blinking back tears that threatened to cloud your vision, you swiftly moved to Tomas’s side before Kuai Liang could reach out to you once more.

There was an obvious panic on Tomas’s young face as he scrutinized you from head to toe with his gray eyes. You felt a pang of guilt for causing such distress. Though you kept your shoulders straight, reminding yourself of your purpose, and tried to maintain a smile, tears welled up in your eyes again when Tomas uttered your name in desperation. Instantly, you enveloped him in a tight hug.

“Talk to us, what’s going on? Did someone hurt you? Just give us their names,” Tomas pleaded, his muscular arms circling you protectively, as if he wanted to shield you from everything, even though you were the one who wanted to do the same for him.

You shook your head in response, planting a kiss on Tomas’s cheek. The faint scent of embers lingered around him, reminiscent of burning wood. Whether from his smoke magic or not, the smell defined Tomas—wild and free. Despite his formidable abilities as an assassin, his naive trust in you was evident. Stepping back, you met his gaze, his gray eyes almost appearing blue in the light. Though he possessed frightening strength and abilities, the vulnerability in his eyes told a different story. Swallowing back your emotions, you resolved that he wouldn’t suffer from the curse’s torment any longer.

You remembered how Tomas had reacted when the power went out a few days ago—it was as if everything had been reset that evening, despite the progress he had made since leaving the book.

“Tomas, it’s okay. You’re safe. You’re not in the book; look, I’m here. Your brothers are also here,” you reassured him, trying to calm his frantic state.

Thanks to the small fireball Kuai Liang created in his hands, Tomas became clearly visible. The silver-haired assassin stood frozen, breathing heavily, fists clenched, his gaze darting around erratically. Sweat matted his short hair against his forehead, glinting in the dim light of the room.

“Tomas,” you called softly again, reaching out to him, but Bi-Han stopped you, gripping your wrist firmly.

“He might hurt you,” Bi-Han warned, his voice harsh and protective. “He’s out of his mind right now, more like a cornered animal than a human being.”

“He’s just scared, that’s all,” you countered, disregarding Bi-Han’s warning. Carefully, you approached Tomas, making sure not to startle him further. “Tomas? Let me touch you, let me show you that you’re not there anymore.”

As you raised your hand to touch him, Tomas’s gaze fixed on you, his jaw clenched tightly. An angry, almost aggressive snarl escaped his lips. Bi-Han and Kuai Liang moved to protect you, but you signaled for them to stay put. Sudden movements and sounds would only agitate Tomas further.

“You’re not there, Tomas. It’s been two months since you came out of the book. You’re in my house, next to me. Look,” you reassured him, your hand gently touching his cheek. Tomas flinched violently, but he didn’t lash out. Though he remained as still as a statue, his gaze shifted to focus on you.

“You don’t want to scare Ninja anymore, do you?” you continued, noticing a slight softening in Tomas’s expression. A low, plaintive sound escaped his throat, resembling the whimper of a wounded animal. “Shh, everything is fine. I know, I know. Come, let me hug you.”

Gathering courage from his stillness, you wrapped your arms around him. Tomas melted into the embrace, his grip tightening around you as he took a sharp breath. Despite the pressure from his strong frame, you made no sound, understanding his need for this connection. As Tomas whispered your name like a prayer, your heart swelled with love and pain, wishing you could heal the wounds inflicted on his soul by the curse.

Your hand found the short tufts of gray hair, stroking them lovingly as you planted a kiss first on his cheek and then on his forehead. “I’m here. It’s all right, you’re safe, Tomas.”

And now you had the power to break this curse.

“You frighten me,” Tomas’s voice interrupted your thoughts, drawing your attention. His words echoed the fear and confusion swirling within you, amplifying the emotional turmoil.

You fought to maintain the dwindling smile on your face as you leaned in to kiss Tomas goodbye on the lips. Every touch, every gesture, was imbued with a depth of feeling that words could not fully express. It was a bittersweet farewell, filled with love and longing. Then, you turned to look at Kuai Liang and Bi-Han, their expressions clouded with concern.

“I love all three of you,” you whispered, the words heavy with emotion. For days, you grappled with how to express this overwhelming feeling, the realization that they had become the foundation of your world, each one holding a profound significance in your heart. The mere thought of voicing these sentiments once filled you with breathless anticipation, but now, as the words escaped your lips, they carried a weight you couldn’t bear alone. Indeed, the pain of the curse paled in comparison to the heaviness in your heart. “Please don’t be angry with anyone, okay?”

“Why are you saying these things?” Bi-Han’s voice cut through the air like shards of ice, his tone rigid and unyielding. Understanding his reaction became easier as you got to know him. He tended to become aggressive when he didn’t want to show his emotions – especially when panicked or afraid. This was one of those moments.

“To whom, why should we be angry?” Tomas’s voice conveyed his confusion. His genuine perplexity only served to deepen the ache in your chest, reminding you of the innocence he still retained despite everything he had endured. You took a deep breath, after stroking Tomas’s cheek for the last time, you stepped back. However, Kuai Liang stopped you by grabbing your arm.

“Tell us what’s going on.” he demanded, his voice taking on a tone you had never heard before. It was the first time you heard him speak like this. Despite his usual warmth and politeness, even when discussing his past, his voice now turned cold, almost resembling that of his older brother, but never had it been this harsh and demanding.

“I will lift the curse,” you stated firmly, leaving no room for argument. “It’s my decision, so don’t hate me or anyone in this room for this, okay? I want what’s best for you.”

“Don’t we have a say in this? And how will you lift the curse?” Kuai Liang’s tone showed his displeasure. He shook you, and the words came out as a snarl. The fire burning in his eyes was evident, his touch alarmingly hot. But behind this intensity, the concern and fear he felt were clear in his expression, open and vulnerable. “Speak!”

“This is a farewell,” Bi-Han said in a single breath, his words cutting through the tension like a knife. “You are saying goodbye to us.”

“No!” Tomas, standing up to Kuai Liang, grabbed your other arm and turned you around to face him. “Tell me it’s a lie.”

You swallowed hard. As your composure, which you tried to maintain, slowly crumbled, your lower lip trembled, and tears flowed freely. An expression of denial appeared on the faces of the three of them, indicating their refusal to accept what was about to happen.

“I’d love to,” you responded to Tomas. “But Bi-Han is telling the truth.” After inhaling deeply, you squared your shoulders and fought back the tears. “I love all three of you very much. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. I made a promise, and I will keep it. I will set you free.”

“How?!” Bi-Han appeared in front of you with a roar, gripping your chin and forcing you to meet his furious gaze. “Whatever sacrifice you’re considering, I won’t allow it. Do you hear me?! You’re not doing anything! We will find another solution.”

“There is no other solution,” you said tearfully, freeing yourself from his grip and placing your hand on his. “I can’t set you free any other way, Bi-Han.”

“No. I said no damnit!” Bi-Han’s voice was adamant. “You stubborn woman, listen to me; I won’t allow it.”

“I’m so sorry,” you said, your voice trembling. “I wish there was another way, but it’s the only way, and I’m ready to fulfill it gladly. I’m not going to let you stop this.” You glanced over your shoulder at Liu Kang. The Fire God watched in silence, his gaze betraying a mix of sadness and anger at the injustice of the situation. “I am ready.”

As Liu Kang nodded his approval, an aggressive growl rumbled from Bi-Han’s throat, his dark, furious gaze fixed on Liu Kang now. Layers of frost and sharp ice began to grow on his skin, a chilling armor of determination as he prepared to confront a god to protect you. It was evident that while they respected Liu Kang deeply, you held an even greater significance to them in that moment, compelling them to face him in order to shield you from harm.

“Don’t you fucking dare. Don’t come close—” he warned, his voice carrying the weight of finality.

“I have the utmost respect for you, Lord Liu Kang, but if you take one more step, I will have to attack you.” Tomas’s voice pierced the tense air, devoid of its usual warmth, cold and chillingly clear. His bright eyes, once filled with warmth, now darkened and focused with an intensity that chilled you more than Bi-Han’s powers.

Aware that what you were about to do would haunt you forever, you steeled yourself. Despite the weight of your decision, there was no other choice. Your sole aim was to bring an end to this ordeal swiftly and without further harm. The thought of anyone else being affected by the curse was unbearable.

“Nobody’s going to do anything,” you said, turning your gaze away from Bi-Han and fixing it on the wall behind him. You couldn’t bear to meet their eyes. “I order all three of you to remain in your places and not to move.”

Your command hung in the air, heavy and tense. A suffocating silence descended upon the room, broken only by the sound of their ragged breaths. This was the first and last time you’d give them orders. It was for their sake, but it didn’t ease the guilt gnawing at you. You’d betrayed their trust. A few more tears escaped down your cheeks as you walked towards the book on the kitchen counter, still avoiding their gazes. You easily slipped out of Bi-Han’s loosening grip, determined to see this through to the end.

As you mentally prepared to pick up the book and materialize into the Fire Temple, it remained stubbornly unmoved. Furrowing your eyebrows, you tried to lift it with both hands, but it felt as if the book weighed a ton. A searing heat radiated from your fingertips to your hand, threatening to melt your skin and expose your bones if you held on any longer. With a small whimper, you pulled your hands back, and Liu Kang came into view.

“The curse knows what you’re about to do, that’s why it won’t let the book move.” He explained.

“But… if we can’t take it with us—then…” you trailed off, a sense of helplessness washing over you.

“Yes,” Liu Kang replied in a carefully flat voice.

“I don’t want them to witness this,” you said, your eyes flickering to the three men you held dear. Their faces revealed a tumult of emotions—betrayal, concern, and fear all intertwined. Despite their futile attempts to defy your command and approach, their efforts proved fruitless. Veins protruded on their skin, and deep furrows etched across their foreheads, with Tomas even beginning to bleed from his nose. Knowing there was no alternative, you fought back a fresh wave of tears, though they continued to betray your resolve. “All right,” you sniffed, quickly dabbing your eyes to dry the tears, lifting your chin to meet Liu Kang’s gaze once more. “Do it quickly, please.”

“Liu Kang!” Kuai Liang shouted, trying to launch the fireballs that appeared in both his hands but failing because of some kind of invisible wall that forced him to stay still. “Don’t you dare hurt her!”

“Get away from her!” Bi-Han said furiously. “I swear, if you touch her, I’ll fucking kill you!”

“No, you won’t hurt him.” In as soft a voice as possible, the second command poured from your lips. “This is my last plea to you, please don’t hurt anyone.” Your gaze turned to Sektor, who caught your wordless request. With silent steps, his head tilted to the ground, he approached, took out the hunting knife from the scabbard at his waist, and handed it to Liu Kang.

“No!” Tomas struggled on the spot, shouting, trying every way to break free from the order that was suppressing him. It destroyed you to feel the desperation in his voice. “No, Sektor, stop! Lord Liu Kang, don’t do this. Please!”

“Place your hand on the book. I know it will hurt you, but I will make it as quick and light as possible,” Liu Kang said, falling deaf to the screams behind him. However, there was a weight in his voice that made him seem more mature than he was. You did what he said, taking strength from the gentle expression on his face to keep you calm. A sizzle rose up in your flesh. You bit your lower lip and held yourself back from squealing in pain. You were going to handle this quietly; you were going to stand strong for them.

‘’Repeat after me: as the keeper of this book, I offer a pact. I unbind Bi-Han, Kuai Liang, and Tomas from the Lin Kuei Clan, the chains that tether them to this book, in exchange for the sacrifice of my own life. From this moment onward, they shall walk free from this curse. My blood and my life shall seal these words.’’

After you echoed his words, despite the screams and chaos around you, Liu Kang delivered the first stab with the knife from Sektor. When the blade pierced under your ribs, you gasped sharply. The pain was more sudden and searing than you had anticipated. Your balance wavered, and the burning pain in your hand seemed insignificant compared to the deep cut now bleeding beneath your ribs. As your misty gaze fell on the book under your hand, you saw the length of the cut forming there.

“Stop! By the elder gods, please stop! Bi-Han, brother, stop them!” Tomas’s desperate cries rang in your ears. Turning your head to him, you murmured in a voice hoping to comfort him.

“It doesn’t hurt, I swear.” Tomas’s expression shattered, his gray eyes shining with unshed tears, making him look younger and more vulnerable than ever. “It’s okay, everything will be okay.”

When Liu Kang raised his hand for the second blow, you closed your eyes. At that moment, Bi-Han’s furious, despairing voice cut through the air, filled with deadly determination.

“Liu Kang, she’s innocent! Stop it now, or I swear to you—No!” Bi-Han’s voice rang out as the knife plunged into your stomach. Your knees buckled, and you collapsed to the ground, but you kept your hand on the book despite the pain. Your hand went numb, whether from the pain or from the nerves being destroyed, you couldn’t tell. Everything had become a big ball of agony. The metallic taste of blood rose in your throat, filling your mouth. You coughed to avoid choking, and blood splattered around, some of it flowing down your lips.

‘’It’s okay… It… Doesn’t hurt.’’ You managed to murmur, the words feeling foreign on your tongue. Your lips felt numb, as if disconnected from your voice, and your tongue seemed to weigh heavy in your mouth.

“Don’t lift the curse, stop!” Kuai Liang’s cries were muffled by the pounding in your ears. Everything around you blurred into a chaotic whirl of colors and sounds, like trying to focus underwater. Each breath was a struggle, a battle against an unseen weight pressing down on your chest. Despite the pain, you clung to consciousness, fighting to stay present amidst the overwhelming haze of approaching death. “Don’t take her away from us. Please, Liu Kang, stop this madness! Let the curse stay, we want it back. Give it back—Just stop!’’

Liu Kang didn’t stop. As he lowered the knife for the third time, aiming for your heart, you felt a deep slit open in the cover of the book under your hand. Despite the excruciating pain, a weak smile formed on your face as you realized the curse had finally been lifted. It was over. They were free now. You could feel the pressure of the curse lifting, and you knew they must have felt it too. As blood continued to rise from your throat, flowing relentlessly from your lips like a crimson cascade, Liu Kang hesitated before withdrawing the knife, gently lowering you to the ground. Numbness crept through your body like tendrils of frost, slowly engulfing your senses. The pain, once sharp and all-consuming, now ebbed away like a receding tide, leaving behind a dull ache. As your vision blurred and darkness encroached, you could barely discern the outlines of three figures, their forms wavering like shadows in the fading light.

You tried to talk. To say that it doesn’t hurt, you’re glad that you finally lifted the curse and set them free, to say that you loved them with all of your heart even words cannot describe how you felt for them. But the words tumbled meaninglessly from your lips, your tongue felt too heavy and it became increasingly difficult to breathe.

“Shhh, don’t talk. We will save you, qīn’ài. Everything’s going to be fine.”

You felt a hand on top of your head, the gentle caress tracing soothing circles. It was Kuai Liang, you surmised from the familiar touch. His fingers moved with care, each stroke bringing a fleeting warmth that chased away a fraction of the cold surrounding you. Then, a sudden pressure on your wounds jolted you, eliciting a sharp whimper that escaped your lips.

‘’You foolish, stubborn woman! We won’t let you go, did you hear me? Don’t you dare give up on us now. I’ll make your life hell after the act you pulled.”

Bi-Han’s words echoed in your ears. Despite the harshness of his tone, you detected the underlying concern beneath his façade, acknowledging the conflict in his emotions. Each breath became more labored, and you wished desperately to convey your remorse to them. But deep down, you knew that if faced with the same choice again, you would make it without hesitation. Because your love for them outweighed everything else. Yet, as another cough wracked your body, you realized that words were futile. Numbness enveloped you completely, and the chill in the air seeped into your bones, causing you to shiver uncontrollably. You surrendered to the encroaching darkness, unable to resist its pull.

Your heart beat weakly one last time, then stopped completely.

***

Author’s Note: My apologies for the cliffhanger! But I’ve already started writing the next chapter, so you won’t have to wait too long again unless something important comes up. Also, I’ve decided to turn this into a series, as I have a couple of ideas brewing. If you have any suggestions or ideas, feel free to share them with me on my blog. If I find them interesting or relevant to the story, I’ll incorporate them into it and give you credit.✨

[koiiiji]

unspoken confessions

author's note ; request was quite long so i cut it to certain scenario if you don't mind!! also @aline1701 thank you for endless patience and support!! this is special for you!!

tw ; mentions of alcohol, drunk, little suggestive, kinda friends to lovers, angst

₊‧.°.⋆💭•˚₊‧⋆.

neon lights flickered outside as laughter and music spilled from the small, dimly lit room where the members of the Gapryong Fist gang had gathered. it was a night of celebration, a rare reprieve from the chaos of their daily lives. Jinyoung Park leaned against the wall, a drink in hand, his heart racing not from the alcohol but from the presence of one person in particular.

you were there, laughing with the others, your smile bright and infectious. Jinyoung watched you from a distance, taking in the way your hair caught the light, the way your eyes sparkled with mischief. the ache in his chest intensified — a love he had buried deep, afraid to ruin the friendship that meant everything to him.

“hey, Jinyoung! come join us!” one of the gang members shouted, pulling him from his thoughts. he forced a smile, raising his drink in acknowledgment but remained rooted in his spot, preferring to observe rather than participate.

suddenly, he felt a strong arm wrapped around his neck, and someone's heavy weight fell on his shoulders. “hey Jinyoung, do you know that sitting here in the corner with a pussy face ruin the whole atmosphere?” Gapryong whine right into his ear.

but following his friend's gaze, his expression and tone immediately changed to a conspiratorial smile and a whisper “ah, i think i know what was on our little Jinyoung’s mind..” the leader said, poking his friend in ribs. “or should i say particular someone?” Gapryong guffawed, following his friend's gaze again.

now they were both watching Tom Lee unsuccessfully trying to make attempts to flirt with miss Kim, but you two were just trying live your happy lives and save your evening by completely ignoring the huge man.

smiling to himself, Jinyoung shrugged off his boss's arm, replying, “don't talk nonsense, we're just friends,” leaving Gapryong there, without a chance to discuss the need to tell a woman about his feelings...

as the night wore on, the energy shifted. drinks flowed freely, and laughter turned into raucous shouts. Jinyoung found himself downing shots alongside you, the alcohol blurring the edges of his inhibitions. the world felt hazy and bright, and he could no longer tell where the laughter ended and the warmth of your presence began.

“Jinyoung, you’re such a lightweight!” you teased, nudging him playfully as he swayed slightly. he laughed, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep within, and for the first time that night, he felt free.

“maybe i’m just saving my energy for the after-party,” he joked, his words slurring slightly. you leaned closer, your cheeks flushed from the alcohol, and Jinyoung felt the pull between you intensifying.

whole gang continued to party, but as the clock struck midnight, many began to stumble out, unable to keep up with the pace of the night. just as two of you. eventually, you and Jinyoung left the building too, both of you unable to stand straight, you made your way to his home and only God knows how you two did it without hurting yourselves.

“mmhm hey, you okay?” you asked, as you entered his apartments, swaying slightly, your voice a melodic drawl. Jinyoung nodded, though he could barely keep his thoughts straight. “yeah… just… taking it all in.”

you moved closer, the warmth of your body radiating against his. “you’ve been so serious whole evening!!! let looooose a little!” you murmur into his chest, your words were playful, and Jinyoung could feel how your breasts pressed against his chest. he swallowed noisily.

before he could respond, you leaned in, your breath warm against his skin. “what if we just… forget about everything for a night?”

his heart raced as desire surged through him, amplified by the alcohol coursing through his veins. “what do you mean?” he stammered, but before he could think, your lips were on his, soft and tentative. the world around them melted away, and Jinyoung kissed you back, feeling the electric rush of adrenaline and the intoxicating thrill of crossing a line he had never dared to approach.

as the kiss deepened, he felt a surge of emotions — joy, fear, longing, and the weight of what it could mean. but the alcohol dulled his anxiety, and when you pulled back, breathless, he couldn't help but grinned. your clouded gaze intoxicated him the least of all the alcohol he had drunk. his hands found your waist and he leaned closer.

“someone is impatient here, huh?” he managed to say, his mind still spinning. you looked at him, eyes wide, and for a moment, he thought he saw something — something that, maybe, just maybe, mirrored his own feelings. but then you simply chuckled, a teasing glint in your eye. “just living in the moment, Jinyoung.”

the night continued in his bedroom, with laughter and stolen kisses, hot touches, and sounds that friends usually not share. fueled by the warmth of alcohol and the thrill of the moment. but as dawn broke, reality crept back in. you slipped away quietly, leaving Jinyoung alone with the remnants of the night.

₊‧.°.⋆💭•˚₊‧⋆.

sunlight streamed through the window, harsh and bright. Jinyoung woke up with a pounding headache, his mouth dry and his mind swirling with fragmented memories. he ran a hand through his hair, groaning as he tried to piece together the events of the night before.

his heart raced as flashes of laughter, your teasing smile, and the warmth of your lips on his neck… his hands on your hips…had it all been real? had he truly kissed you, or was it just a drunken fantasy? he felt a knot form in his stomach.

he glanced around the room, half-expecting to see you lounging on the couch or sipping a drink, but instead, it was just him — alone. the silence was deafening, a stark contrast to the raucous energy of the night before. realization hit him like a punch to the gut : you were gone.

“why did you leave?” he muttered to himself, burying his face in his hands. the memory of your laughter echoed in his mind, and he couldn’t shake the feeling of loss. it wasn’t just that you had left : it was the uncertainty of what had happened. did you even remember? would you pretend it hadn’t happened?

Jinyoung stumbled out of bed, his legs unsteady. he made his way to the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face in a futile attempt to clear his head. as he looked in the mirror, he saw a reflection of confusion and longing staring back at him. warmth of your lips still lingered on his, a reminder of the connection you had shared, but now it felt like a cruel taunt.

he reached for his phone, desperate to see if you had messaged him, but there was nothing. no missed calls, no texts. just silence. the emptiness in his chest grew heavier, and he felt lost, adrift in a sea of uncertainty.

what if i messed everything up? he thought, pacing his small apartment. he thought about the friendship you both had built, the countless moments of support and laughter, and now it felt like it was all hanging by a thread. fear of losing you gnawed at him, making it hard to breathe.

he grabbed a jacket and stepped outside, hoping the fresh air would clear his mind.

as he walked through the familiar streets, memories of you flooded his mind — your laughter, the way you could light up a room, the moments when you both shared your dreams and fears. he remembered how he wanted to tell you everything, how he had wanted to confess his feelings but had been too afraid to ruin what you had. now, he wondered if he would ever get the chance again...

[cherry-holmes]

Glimpse of a life with Javier Peña (series)

Chapter 2

MAIN MASTERLIST

Summary: Javi fucked up things with you.

SERIES MASTERLIST PART 3

Pairing: Javier Peña x Female Reader

Word count: +2.5k

Warnings: none. No use of Y/N.

A/N: Chapter 2 is here! As always I want to thank you for your support! I hope you like this one and be ready for moreeee!🫶🏻✨ I love reading your comments and reblogs, so keep the coming✨

I’m open for requests. Javier Peña, Joel Miller, Din Djarin, Loki, BBC Sherlock, Supernatural…😏

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Work made time fly quickly. You had a lot of paperwork to do every day, and it seemed endless – spending hours reading reports and files and then translating them on your typewriter. However, something had been making the last two weeks feel easier, or better to say, someone.

Every afternoon, Javier Peña visited your office to hand you his and Murphy's daily reports. You wondered when Messina would withdraw Javier's punishment, but you weren't sure if you wanted her to do it. You didn't have a lot of friends at work since your department consisted of only one employee – you. You had some conversations with secretaries and officers during your lunch breaks, but you always returned alone to your small office.

So, when Javier visited and talked with you for at least a couple of minutes, it made you feel less isolated in the demanding work environment. The couple of days when he didn't visit because he was on a raid out of the base, you couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed. You became accustomed to the smell of cigarettes and men's cologne that lingered in the air whenever he was around. Sometimes he also smelled like black coffee, and on his roughest days, even like whiskey.

It became a small but pleasant routine, these short daily visits from Javier. You'd sometimes share a funny story or a piece of office gossip, and occasionally, you'd laugh together. Those brief moments helped create a sense of camaraderie between you and the charming DEA agent.

Until one particular day, as Javier handed you the reports, he leaned casually against your office doorframe, a playful grin tugging at his lips. "You know," he began, "I've been thinking. Maybe you and I should grab a drink after work one of these days. Get to know each other a little better, outside of this crazy office."

His proposition took you by surprise. You hadn't expected this kind of invitation. Your mind raced as you tried to decide how to respond. Javier watched you intently, his eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and something else you couldn't quite put your finger on.

You were about to say yes immediately, but you knew better than to let yourself fall into the den of the beast so easily. You had heard a lot about Javier Peña and his charming ways, known to lead any woman to his bed. And although you had been enjoying the friendly conversations with him, you didn't want to rush into anything too quickly.

You met his gaze, your own eyes locking with his. "Javier," you began carefully, "I appreciate the offer, I really do. But, I have to be honest, you have quite the reputation, and I don't want to misinterpret our friendship."

Javier's smirk hesitated, as he tried to process your response. He looked like it was the first time he'd been rejected, and it caught him off guard. He straightened his back and moved his hand as if dismissing the importance of it all.

"Wow," he said with a touch of sarcasm, "I never thought I'd see the day when someone turned down a night with Javier Peña. Guess I overestimated our connection."

His words stung, and you could see a flicker of hurt in his eyes, even though he was trying to play it cool. You had unintentionally wounded his pride, and it seemed he was determined to strike back with a hint of meanness.

"It's not about our connection, Javier," you replied evenly. "It's about respecting boundaries and not rushing into something we might regret later."

«That I might regret later».

He sighed, his tone softening just a bit. "Fair enough. I get it. I won't push," he said, his playful charm replaced by a more somber demeanor. "Let's just forget I ever brought it up. We can stick to our friendly chats. No harm done."

The atmosphere in the room grew tense, and you both lapsed into an uneasy silence. It was clear that your rejection had affected him more than he let on, and you couldn't help but feel a sting of guilt for hurting his feelings.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

He didn't mean it.

"I never thought I'd see the day when someone turned down a night with Javier Peña"?

What the fuck was that shit?

As Javier left your office, he felt guilty and embarrassment for saying that. He knew his behavior wasn't correct, but the disappointment he felt really took him by surprise. He had been rejected a couple of times, he was prepared for your possible refusal. But what he didn't expect was the heavy weight he would feel when he heard you saying no.

For weeks, he had been feeling increasingly drawn to you, always wanting to be near you. He even used Messina's punishment as an excuse to visit your office, even after she withdrew it. Javier had finally come to the disconcerting realization that he was infatuated with you. So, he thought that perhaps by taking you out for a drink and even having you in his bed, he would get over it.

But as he got into his truck, he felt truly disillusioned. His ill-advised words had driven a split between you, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he had ruined any chance of building something more meaningful. Javier's fear of commitment was something that never kept him awake at night, not even after everything that had happened with Lorraine. He felt genuinely sorry for leaving her at the altar thirteen years ago, but he always told himself that she was much better without him. She needed someone with a lot more commitment than he had. Now, the topic seemed to be haunting him.

He wasn't mad because you hurt his ego; he was mad because you hurt the feelings he didn't know he had.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Javier didn't come to your office again the following week. It wasn't the first time a man stopped talking to you after you rejected him. You were used to it. The moment you made it clear you wouldn't give them what they wanted, they magically lost interest in you, sometimes even resorting to calling you boring or, occasionally, a bitch.

You could sense this double standard in society. On one hand, they encourage women to freely explore their sexuality, which is great, but on the other hand, if you prefer to wait for the right time and the right person, you get labeled as "boring" or "prudish." It's as if there's no middle ground, no understanding that everyone has their own path and timing.

You had always believed in waiting for the right person, the one you truly cared about, to share such an intimate moment. It wasn't about religion, you didn't even believe on the false concept of ''purity'' or ''santity''; it was simply your personal choice.

So you thought Javier was just another man like many. It made you feel disappointed because you really liked him, but there wasn't anything you could do about it.

As you entered the office dining room, you spotted your usual group of female friends. They greeted you, and you joined them. All of you spoke in Spanish.

"Hello" you smiled as you greeted as you took your seat. The chatter at the table was lively, filled with laughter and bits of gossip about the office. These women had become your companions, and you cherished the moments you spent with them during lunch breaks.

As the conversation flowed, one of your friends, Marta, leaned in and asked in a teasing tone, "So, we've been seeing Agent Peña hanging around your office quite often lately. What's the story there?"

The mention of Javier made you pause for a moment, and you glanced at your friends, slightly surprised that they had noticed. "Oh, that," you said, attempting to play it off casually. "It's because of Messina's punishment. She made him handed me his reports."

Ana raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Messina's punishment? Come on, you were chatting for like two weeks straight. That punishment lasts only a couple of days."

You felt your cheeks flush as you tried to maintain your composure. Your friends were sharp, and they clearly had their suspicions. "Well," you began, searching for words, "maybe he did something to bother her again. You know how bossy she can get."

The women at the table exchanged knowing looks, and one of them, Maria, couldn't help but tease, "Hmm, a bad boy indeed. He must really that bad."

You sighed internally. With a sheepish smile, you finally confessed, "Okay, fine. We've been talking a lot. But it's just work-related, I promise."

Marta grinned. "Work-related, huh? Well, you can't blame us for being curious. Agent Peña isn't known for spending that much time in one place, especially chatting with a colleague."

You shrugged, realizing that your friends had seen through your explanation. "I guess we've been getting along. It's nice to have someone to talk to during those long work hours."

Your friends exchanged knowing glances again, and Maria leaned closer, her voice hushed. "Come on, spill the beans. Is there something more going on between you two?"

You hesitated, then decided to be honest. "No, there isn't. It's just work and friendly conversations. Javier is a nice guy, and I enjoy our talks."

Maria leaned in again, her tone more serious this time. "That's good to hear then, because, you know, we found out that he slept with Kelly. You know her, didn't you? The blonde one."

You paused, your heart sinking at the revelation. It didn't surprised you, but you felt a hole in your chest.

"Oh," you tried to composed yourself, "Well for them."

Sofia chimed in, her expression concerned. "Yeah, we just don't want you to get hurt. These things usually don't end well. Men like him, they tend to move on pretty quickly."

"You don't have nothing to worry about," you tell them, mixing your food but you had lost your appetite, "There's nothing between us, so Javier is free to do anyone he please."

The conversation moved on to other topics, but you couldn't help but feel a ache of disappointment and confusion. Why did Javier's involvement with someone else affect you like this? You told yourself it didn't matter, that you had your own principles and choices to stick to. But deep down, something had shifted, and you couldn't quite put your finger on it.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You and Javier had crossed paths around the office a couple of times during the following days, but neither of you made the effort to talk to each other. It was a bit awkward, but nothing that you actually mourned. You had heard that he spent at least two more nights with Kelly, until apparently, as you heard from Martha, she asked him to be more than just friends, and he said no. It wasn't a surprise; he had done that to more women at work. Everybody knew him.

On the other hand, Javier was desperate to get you out of his dreams. He told himself that he couldn't put a name to what he felt toward you, but the reality was that he just wanted to accept it. He had feelings for you, more than just wanting to be with you in bed. He wasn't in love - yet - but he did feel something. Your refusal had hit him harder than he expected. He couldn't deny that he cared more about you than he ever thought he would. But he had no idea how to approach you now.

The dimly lit room was filled with the lingering scent of passion and cigarette as Javier stood by the window, staring up at the distant lights of the city. Helena, lying on his bed, propped herself up on one elbow.

"Javi, what's been bothering you lately?," Helena asked, her voice soft and concerned.

Javier turned his head to look at her, his dark eyes meeting hers. He sighed and ran a hand through his tousled hair. "It's nothing, Helena, just work stuff," he replied, trying to dismiss her question.

Helena wasn't convinced. She had known Javier long enough to recognize when something was troubling him. "You can't fool me, Javier," she said with a knowing smile. "I can recognize a heart that's burdened."

He looked at her, his guard dropping slightly. "It's complicated," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Helena knew better than to press him for more details. As she watched Javier's back, her feelings were a complex mix of desire, longing, and a touch of sadness. She had known for a while that Javier was not just her client; she had developed a connection beyond the physical, even though Javier didn't.

She felt a heartache, waves of jealousy running through her veins, knowing that she could never compete with the other woman in his thoughts. Helena understood the nature of their arrangement – she was a hooker, and he was a DEA agent. Their worlds were inherently different, and she had resigned herself to the fact that he would never see her as more than a source of pleasure and information. Yet, despite her own rationalizations, Helena couldn't help but yearn for something more with Javier. She had developed genuine feelings for him over time, even though she knew it was a one-sided affair.

After Helena left his apartment, the night grew darker, and Javier lay awake in his bed, his mind racing with thoughts of you. He couldn't deny the growing feelings he had for you, and he knew he needed to do something about it. The distraction had reached a point where he couldn't ignore it any longer.

So he had made a decision. Tomorrow, he was going to approach you. He would apologize for the way he talked to you the other day, ask you out for a friendly drink, and see where things could go. It was a bold move for him, someone not accustomed to such personal pursuits.

As he mentally crafted his approach, he couldn't help but smile at the thought of your bright eyes and the way your laughter rang in his ears during those brief conversations in your office. Javier was convinced that there was something special about you, something that drew him in despite his best efforts to resist.

In the morning, Javier waited impatiently during the usual meeting in the office. He couldn't concentrate even when it was his turn to talk about the recent capture of one of Escobar's hitmen. Finally, as they left the meeting room, Murphy approached him and patted his back.

''Everything okay, Javi?'' he asked. Javier tried to keep it cool and waved a hand like it was nothing.

''I couldn't sleep well,'' he simply said as both agents arrived at their workplaces.

Steve chuckled, sitting at his desk and starting to gather all his paperwork. ''You were thinking about her, weren't you?'' he dared to ask. Javier and Steve trusted each other enough to tease one another. They never crossed the line but considered themselves friends.

Peña looked at him with annoyance, but it wasn't deep.

''Shut up, Murphy,'' he groaned as he gathered his own paperwork but didn't sit at his desk.

Steve looked at him with a grin, knowing his partner well enough to guess his next move.

''Two weeks without seeing her, and now you'll use Messina's punishment again as an excuse just to see her? What changed, Javi?'' he mocked.

''I told you to shut the fuck up,'' Javi said as he turned back toward your office, and Steve laughed.

Javier tried to remember the words he had spent the night trying to formulate and memorize. He was actually nervous. But just as he reached your doorway, his heart sank. He saw you engaged in conversation with Diego, another colleague from the office. The sight of you two talking, sharing a moment he wasn't a part of, left him feeling like an outsider. You were smiling, and there was a slight blush on your cheeks.

But not as flushed as she was with me, an intrusive thought echoed in the back of his head. He quickly turned away, his plans disrupted, and retreated to his own desk. Javier couldn't help but wonder if he had missed his chance with you. The uncertainty gnawed at him, leaving him in a state of frustration and craving.

NEXT CHAPTER

[wildemaven]

Sweet Creature: Chapter Six

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

WC: 4511

Warnings: 18+ Blog; mentions of food and drinks, unwanted touching, self doubt, pining, two dumb dumbs navigating fEeLiNgS, reader has a nickname but has zero descriptive features, fluff, like always please let me know if there’s anything I missed.

A/N: This chapter!! I think it’s just been a week for me, dealing with minimal sleep and a teething babe— I was near giving up on it. But, it’s done! Wrote out a good portion of it and then hated it so I rewrote it and then ending up going in a completely different direction— but I like where it ended up going. Thanks again for all the love and kind words on this series!! Only 4 more chapters to go!! Adding: Thank you to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for beta’ing this labor of love and all her support and help as I write this!

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An endless loop of vivid thoughts frequent your weary mind— starting early in the morning and well into the evening. 

Dieter, his stupid handsome face and the way he has you falling for him, your brain in a constant flustered state. 

You keep mulling over the possibilities of allowing yourself to be vulnerable, open to the idea of something growing between you and Dieter. 

Each alternative has its advantages and risks. 

Leaning into your feelings and granting Dieter access to the thing you’ve spent years guarding, trusting that he will stand alongside you as you fully open your heart to a chance at a future together. 

But what if he doesn’t want the same things as you?? You contemplate if settling for just his friendship is enough, never pursuing the growing connection between you, accepting him in your life but always at an arm's length. 

Dieter’s impending departure has you a mess, your growing feelings for him only making it worse. 

“Are you still there sweetheart?” 

“Yeah— Sorry Mom, I’m still here.” You assured her, finishing up the rest of your makeup as you get yourself ready for the Capri Hotel’s big event. 

“You sound so far away. What’s bothering you?” 

“Ugh. I don’t even know where to begin Mom. None of it’s really all that bad, just a lot at once I guess.”

“Well, I’m here to listen if you need to get it off your chest.” 

Moments like these, you wished she lived closer, missing your kitchen conversations at the end of a long day. No matter how depleted she was after work, she made dinner with a smile and sat for as long as you needed her to, her shoulders always carrying the weight of your heart when needed. 

“Just trying to keep it together most days. School has been busy, end of year things have me drained. Then there’s the whole gallery thing, it has me stressed I won’t be ready for the showing. I’ve finally managed to get a chunk of my pieces painted and prepped— I have like 5 more to do. And I’m sad it’s closing, I only have a few classes left there.” You pause for a moment, you hadn’t intended on an emotional dump when you called your Mom, just wanted to check in and say hello. “It’s all good things though, so I don’t even know why it feels overwhelming, I guess I feel like I’m going to let someone down somewhere along the way.”

“Hmm. Well, I know how hard you are on yourself, but I also know how hard you work— especially when it involves all the things you love. You’re going to get through it all! I believe in you.”

Her voice feels like a warm embrace as it drifts through your phone, the stress already feeling like it has lifted a bit with her reassurance. 

“So, how are things with your guy? Any new things on that front?”

“Well, he’s not my guy.” Chuckling at her abruptness. “I feel like we’re in a good place now— he feels like a close friend that I’ve known my whole life. And the more time we spend together, the more I—“

“The more you what?”

“I don’t even know, Mom. Like there’s these things he does, I don’t know if he’s just being nice or what, but he does these little things that make me so happy. He brings me coffee in the mornings when he drops his niece off at school, leaves little notes for me on the cups— I save them Mom, I have a stack of these coffee cups in my kitchen.”

You hear a muffled hum, her signal that she’s already preparing her response to what you have to share, but allowing you to continue. 

“He came to one of my classes, and you know what he did? He painted a portrait of me— who does that?! And now, we text each other all the time and I can’t stop smiling when his name pops up on my phone, because I can’t stop thinking of him. Then he gave me this cute nickname that makes my insides turn to goo any time he says it and I— I…”

“You love him, don’t you?”

“Yeah— I do.”

*

The air is dry, heat waves dancing across the scorching cement, an array of popular songs blaring from the DJ booth situated on the green lawn adjacent to the hotel’s pool deck. 

The re-grand opening celebration of The Capri in full effect. 

The hotel had been drawing in plenty of guests after the renovation, rooms booked out regularly, a quintessential tourist destination for the small town. Its mid-century design of wood, natural tones and pops of color paired with the sleek modern aesthetic throughout the hotel’s property was beginning to be recognized by many publications, all looking to showcase the hotel’s unique style in upcoming pieces. 

The hotel’s name, big white block letter signage, sits atop the covered entryway. A parked yellow Chevy Deluxe adds to the ambiance of the building’s timeless look. 

Giant palm trees and tropical-esque plants in terracotta pots decorate the grounds of the hotel. Small gardens with intimate seating had been strategically placed for optimal usage. A large lawn space in the back was draped in string lighting and had the perfect view of daily sunsets. The pool itself was a perfect backdrop for a day of relaxing, vintage woven lawn chairs and oversized umbrellas lined each side of the large pool surrounded by lush greenery. 

Dieter was able to snag a chair early on, perks of knowing the hotel owner, the umbrella shade blocking enough of the sun to make the extremely warm weather bearable. 

He’s trying his best to enjoy himself, knowing he’s doing Diem a favor keeping an eye on Wren while she’s running around doing her hotel-party hostess duties, but the growing crowd of guests and invitees feel more overwhelming, reminding him of the elaborate Hollywood parties he’s attended. 

Only a few people have stopped to ask for autographs or pictures, slightly surprised there’s still a fan base that has an interest in him these days. 

“How come they don’t want me to sign their papers? I know how to write my name too!” Wren, her voice tinged with a pouty tone, says from where she’s lounging on her chair next to him. 

“I don’t know, Birdie. Next time, you can sign your name too, seems only fair.”

“Okay. I can draw a heart for them too.”

Wren, satisfied with the compromise, goes back to sipping on her iced lemonade and watching one of her shows on her iPad, zero interest in what's going on around her. 

“How’s she doing?” Diem asks as she sits on the edge of the Wren’s chair, placing another lemonade on the small accent table between the two of them. 

“She’s good, wanted to take a break from swimming for a bit. You, umm— hear from Poppy yet?” 

“Why? You finally going to tell her you’ve got it bad for her??” 

Grateful his sunglasses are dark enough to block the eye roll intended for Diem, he glances over to see Wren still absorbed into her show then back to Diem and whispering a low -fuck off- accompanied with a playful middle finger. 

“She texted me a bit ago, said she was running late, but would be here soon— Oh! Speak of the devil, look who just arrived. I’m going to go say hi and I’ll send her over so you can tell her how much you’ve missed her.” Diem’s menacing voice earns her another middle finger from Dieter, leaving him to greet you properly. 

Dieter catches sight of you weaving through the pack of bodies meandering around the pool, taking in how your face lights up the minute you see Diem welcoming you with a hug, both of you embracing each other as if you hadn'tnd just hung out days prior. 

He’s seen you in your casual clothes outside of school before. Usually a pair of favorite jeans and t-shirt, a sundress sprinkled in on warmer days, but something about seeing you in a bathing suit and shorts has his brain short-circuiting almost instantly. 

Tilting his head forward, his pointer finger pulling his sunglasses slowly down the bridge of his nose. He’s completely taken aback, mesmerized by you, noting every little detail—  your captivating features that make him absolutely weak, every delicate curve so perfectly placed, each flaw you try so hard to hide merely a perfect addition to your allurement. 

The second you and Diem turn in his direction, he’s shaken out of his trance, trying to focus on anything to make his blatant staring seem less obvious. 

“I see an open chair next to Dieter, do you think he’ll mind if I hang out with them?” You point to the open space next Dieter, who is helping Wren navigate something on her iPad. 

Unfortunately, as you say it, you notice a beautiful woman sitting in the lounger you were inquiring about. You try your best to keep the tinge of jealousy concealed, the last thing you want is to draw any sort of attention to your feelings for Dieter at this time. 

“Never mind, I’m sure I’ll find somewhere to set my stuff.” There’s a subtle hint of sadness in your eyes, avoiding watching the women openly flirt with him. 

“Babe, you good?” Diem sensing the shift in your demeanor instantly. Peering back at Dieter to see the interaction he’s having with the woman, who now has her hand on his arm, caressing it as she tilts her head and openly ogles him— her fake laugh is a dead give away that she only sees Dieter for his Star Status and nothing more. 

“Yeah— y-yeah, I’m good.” Forcing a somewhat convincing smile. 

“Hey, I’ve got to go check on catering, make sure everything is running on time and then I’m going to grab Wren for her nap— the last thing I need is a 6 year old meltdown. Don’t worry about her, she doesn’t really seem like his type anyways. We’ll catch up in a bit.” Giving you another hug, letting it linger for a minute, then Diem takes off in the direction of the catering truck. 

You’re left standing there, feeling exposed and alone among a sea of strangers. Nervously scanning anywhere but in the direction of where Dieter and the woman are clearly flirting. You contemplate what an appropriate amount of time to spend here would be, before slipping out unnoticed. 

It reminds of you showing up to a middle school dance, dressed in the new fancy dress you picked out for the special occasion in hopes of seeing the cute boy, who’s name you spent most of the school year scribbling in your notebooks. Only to walk into the dimly lit and poorly decorated gymnasium to see he is with the head cheerleader and they’re both making heart eyes at each in the middle of the dance floor. 

Part of you wants to shrink into the shadows of the crowd, ruminate over the signals you read completely wrong this whole time. Dieter was just being nice, friendly— at no fault of his. You blame yourself for thinking he might have some interest in you, reading into the little details and thinking that you were even his type— clearly far from it. 

An up tempo song blasts through the speakers, amping the tone of the party up and pulling you out of your brief moment of sulking. 

Friends. Just friends. Dieter and you are friends and that has to be enough for you. 

You head in the direction of the open bar, hoping an ice cold beverage will help unburden your angsty thoughts. 

“We should hang out sometime!” Dieter cringes at the advances this random woman keeps making towards him. 

If this wasn’t his sisters hotel, he’d probably wouldn’t feel bad in being harsh and telling this woman to fuck right off. But he doesn’t want to cause a scene, not knowing how she would react to his rejection. 

“Umm, I don’t know— I’ve got a lot going on right now.” Let her down easy. 

“Oh come on! You’re not doing anything, you just got out of rehab— and they’ve got you trapped in this boring town too. I’m sure we could find something fun to do together. I know a few parties are happening in WeHo coming up, I can make a few calls— get some treats to liven things up.” Her hand still fondling his arm. 

He winces at her crass comment, a reminder of why he chose to escape the acrimonious world of Hollywood. 

He doesn’t have a single regret about being here in Ojai either, he enjoys its simplicity and is starting to feel like he could see himself here long term. 

“Look, I’m sure you're nice and all— but I’m not interested.” 

“Okay, well we can do something else then. How about we go back to my room, I’m staying here.” Wiggling her hotel key between her fingers. 

She’s clearly not grasping at the obvious hint Dieter is giving her. 

“No, I’m not interested in your room or you.” He says politely, grabbing her hand and removing it from his arm. 

“What do you mean?!”

“He has a girlfriend, lady!” Wren piped up in Dieter’s defense. 

“Wait! You have a kid? And a girlfriend?”

“No— to both things.” 

“God, rehab made you so fucking boring.” She scoffed, offended by his sobriety and his lack of interest in her. 

“Okay, so what we’re not going to do is that, my niece is right here. You can go now.” 

She didn’t hesitate at his request, grabbing her things and walking away— pretending to be unbothered by the rejection. 

“Sorry about that Birdie. Some people are just—“

“Weird!”

“Yeah, weird. Hey, Birdie?”

“Yeah.”

“I know you think Poppy is— she’s not my girlfriend, we’re just friends. So, let’s maybe not call her that anymore okay?” Although, he likes the way the two words mix together in the same sentence. 

He worries it’s going to slip in your presence, he knows wren means no harm by it, but he would hate for you to feel uncomfortable if you ever were to hear her say it. 

“Mhmm.” Her non-committal response earns her a laugh, fully focused on her show like nothing ever happened. 

Dieter takes in the lively atmosphere around him. Laughter emanating from the party guests gathered in small groups around the pool, a carefree crowd dancing throughout the lawn area, smiles plastered on everyone’s faces— he couldn’t be more proud of Diem and all she has accomplished. 

Readjusting the collar of his colorful half buttoned shirt, Dieter settles back into the chair, letting the sun kiss every bit of his exposed skin. 

“How are things going over here?” Diem quietly asked, pulling Dieter from his ruminative thoughts. 

Diem scoots Wren’s listless legs over to allow room for her to sit down, leaning over she grabs the device from her tiny sleepy hands, Wren’s little head nodding as she struggles to keep her drowsy eyes open. 

“No complaints, looks like you had a good turnout. I’m really proud of you Diem, not just all of this,” His hand pointing around to her accomplishments on display in the form of a successfully running hotel and her well executed re-grand opening festivities. “But with Wren too. I’m glad that I got this chance to be with you both.”

“Don’t go getting all sappy on me—“ Her voice wobbly and soft as she beams at his acknowledgment of her dedication to her work and Wren. “Thank you. And I wouldn’t have been able to pull this off without your help.”

Dieter nods, mirroring her heartfelt gratitude. 

“Have you seen Poppy? I saw you both talking earlier.” He hopes he doesn’t sound too desperate, wanting to know your whereabouts, if you’re okay and why you’re not here— with him. 

“She didn’t make it over?” His brows draw together, shaking his head slightly. Her nose wrinkled at the realization of why you hadn’t come over. 

“What?” 

“She saw you and your— little friend earlier, I don’t know for sure, but she seemed somewhat saddened by it. I’m surprised she didn’t come over though.” 

“Shit! I gotta go. You good with her.” He stands abruptly, an unnerving feeling creeping up from his chest, hoping you didn’t mistake what you saw for anything but an awkward fan interaction. 

“Yeah, go. I’m going to go put her down in my office.” Scooping up Wren’s sleeping frame. “Dieter?” 

He turns back to her calling his name, hands flexing at his side, a nervous tick of his, as he waits for what Diem has to add. 

“You should tell her.” 

He’s not sure why it’s so difficult to find someone in a somewhat enclosed area. His eyes scanning every ecstatic face as he sidesteps through conversations anchored in effervescent exuberance, a stark contrast from his growing collection of spiraling thoughts. 

If he could just find you, explain the situation to you in its entirety. 

Explain how he truly feels. 

How you'rer his first thought when he wakes in the morning, the giddy anticipation of seeing how beholden you are as he hands you the coffee he picks up from the bakery Wren and him stop at before school, how he takes in the way you tilt your head just enough to read the ridiculous notes he scribbles on the sides of each cup, “Have a Brewtiful Day!” “Better latte than never.”—each one extracting the most intoxicating laugh. 

How he looks forward to seeing your face light up at his stupid jokes, never once admitting how horrible you think they are. 

How you’re an added reason for him to want to be sober, never wanting to be on the receiving end of your disappointment in him. He wants that rewarding experience of seeing how proud you are of him. 

And how he wants nothing more than to have you in his arms— morning, noon and night, keeping you as close as he possibly can, terrified that you’ll disappear the moment he lets you go. 

His world seems to come to a standstill, everything he had been working up the courage to tell you, drained from his mind instantly. 

Utterly shattered by the sight of you. 

That smile of yours, paired with a full body laugh, directed at the man standing next to you. Your hand holding the top of his oversized bulging bicep as his large hand gently cups your elbow, leaning into each other as you both exchange words. 

A reality he hadn’t even considered in the time he spent looking for you— you being happy with someone who isn’t him. 

Crushed. 

Confused. 

Broken. 

It’s a dizzying sensation. A chance lost— or so he thinks. 

Rubbing his hands against his shorts, removing the evidence of his anxious response to seeing you wrapped up in what looked like an intimate conversation, his head still in a fogged state of shock. 

He manages to will his body to move from where he’s been standing. His jaw ticks anxiously, surrounded by bodies dancing around his blurry peripherals. Releasing a deep sigh, he looks back to you once more, looking for what he hopes is closure. 

Instead, he catches the moment the man you’d been friendly with, gesturing a goodbye as he retreats from the space he’d been sharing with you. 

Dieter watches the way your expression morphs from bright and bubbly to soft and muted the minute you're alone, leaning against the cocktail table with your face tucked into your shoulder, closing yourself off from everything and everyone. 

“Mind if I join you?” Dieter calmly approaches you, still holding on to the single thread of hope that he didn’t lose his chance. 

“Hey! Of course you can.” Your face instantly lights up at the sight of him, patting the open spot on the table, genuinely welcoming him to be with you. 

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything?” 

“What do you mean?” A line appears between your brows, shifting your body to fully face him with one arm still draped over the table top, your fingers casually drawing shapes onto the silky thin table cloth. 

“The guy, I saw you talking to him— looks like he works out, a lot— the man is very hot.” Words fumbling out of his mouth, as he points back in the direction he thinks he saw the muscular guy head in. “I just mean, I don’t want to interrupt if there’s something potentially happening there.”

Your lips pressed together in an attempt to fight off the urge to laugh. 

“What?”

“There was nothing happening there, like at all. That was Dan, he’s a good friend and he comes to classes at the gallery. I’d offer to introduce you two, since you think he’s so hot, but he just got back from his honeymoon— with his equally hot husband. We were just catching up.” 

Dieter winces at your explanation of who the man was, feeling like an idiot for so foolishly assuming you were falling for the guy. 

“Besides, he’s not really my type.” You state boldly with your head cocked to the side, one eye squinting to block the sun rays as you take stock of the way the sunlight tangles in his hair. 

“Where’s your friend from earlier? She was really pretty. You both really seem to be hitting it off earlier.” Keeping your tone neutral, looking down at where your fingers are now pulling at a loose thread on the tablecloth, preparing yourself for how his response is definitely going to wreck you. 

His hand settles next to yours, his fingers nervously tapping onto the hard surface. 

“Actually, I have no clue who she was— didn’t even ask for her name, didn’t want to know it either. Sure, she was pretty and maybe in different circumstances I might have been interested in her… She was pissed though when I turned her down, I actually had to tell her to leave.”

“Really— Why?” Your attention drawn back up to where he’s still studying you, his brown eyes locked with yours, now etched in a glistening golden light from the setting sun. 

He lifted his shoulders in a gentle shrug, taking a deep breath as he looked at you, “She just isn’t who I’m interested in.” 

When you think back to when you were growing up, constantly daydreaming about what it would feel like the moment you realized you were in love, and if it would feel as good to have that same feeling reciprocated back to you, by someone who wholeheartedly felt the same way. 

You decide that this is that moment, and it’s even better than you imagined it would be. 

Dieter’s eyes drift over to the table, his hand slowly inching closer to yours, the light brush of his fingers over the top of your hand is electric, your breath catching as he begins to intertwine his fingers with yours. 

His thumb, tender as it slowly smooths over the ridges of your hand, glancing back to you to make sure that there’s no sign of discomfort in your face— you squeeze your fingers, a silent ‘I’m more than okay with this’. 

A breeze picks up, his hair tousling around as it blows through where you both are standing. You lift your free hand to swipe the hanging curls out of his face, your fingers taking liberty to rake through his downy hair, each curl bouncing back into place. 

“What’s your type then?” It’s menacing the way his husky voice cuts through the steady silence, encouraging you to share with him. 

“Hmm…Tall, funny, sweet, driven, pretty— like really fucking pretty. Also has to answer to Uncle Dude in the presence of a sweet little 6 year old. Know of anyone who might fit that description?”

He nods along as you list off each quality, his eyes lighting up at mentioning good-looking. 

“That’s quite the list.” He quips, your breathy laugh prompting a lopsided grin from him. “So— pretty, huh?”

“Yeah— really fucking pretty.” Your words are drawn out in a sincere manner, noting the way his eyes crinkle a little at the compliment. 

Dieter’s hand nestles at the base of your neck, drawing your body closer to him. His touch potent and satisfying, as he commits to memory the way your skin feels beneath his fingertips, gliding them down your bare spine leaving goosebumps in their wake— his gaze never leaving yours. 

“You’re interested in someone?” The answer seems obvious, but you want to hear it from him. 

“Poppy, you gotta know it’s you—“ He utters earnestly with both of his hands now cupping your cheeks, watching the way your lips part as he leans in closer. “I lo— like you so fucking much Poppy, you’re the only one I’m interested in.”

The way he started to say that he loves you, it feels like you might float away, anchoring your hands on his wrists. Everything tingles in your stomach, he’s so close, his breath fanning over your lips. Your lashes flutter as he slowly angles your face, his nose brushing against yours. 

It’s a whirlwind of energy drifting between both of you, building intensity with each passing second, the finality of the moment bound to be explosive. 

Tiny hairs of his mustache grazing the underside of your nose. The top of his lip begins to settle over yours, it’s pillowy weight slowly meeting your—

*RING RING RING*

“Fuck!” The word vibrates across your upper lip at the vexing sound of Dieter’s phone ringing, offensively interrupting the flow of your almost kiss and urging him to answer it. 

“I swear, if that’s Diem—“ A picture of Diem and Wren lights up the phone screen, his thumb swiping across to accept the call, he stands to his full height as he presses the device to his ear. “Hey, what’s up?… Okay… Yeah…Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute then… Love you too, bye.” Dieter ends the call and shoves his phone back into his pocket. 

The entire phone conversation, his focus remains on you. His free hand never leaves the side of your face, thumb stoking across the warmed apple of your cheek—Your hand still holding on to him, the cadence of his heart-rate is rapid against your palm. 

“Diem?” 

“Yeah, she said Wren wanted to go home. She has to stay for another hour or two, make sure things close out here before she can head home.” He explains, zero annoyance detected in his face. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah, I’m perfect.” You say  softly, an airy smile spreading across your face. “What do we do now?”

Dieter takes in your question, so many answers floating around in his mind, but none of them feel sufficient enough at this moment, wanting to properly share everything he’s been feeling without being rushed or interrupted. 

He leans back into your space, his lips pressing a chaste kiss between your brows before resting his forehead against yours. 

“We’ll figure it out as we go.”

Next

[nicoline1998enilocin]

Worship

PAIRING || Husband!Young!Tony Stark x Wife!Fem!Reader

WORDCOUNT || 1.1K

SUMMARY || Over the years, you and your husband, Tony, have developed the perfect 'welcome home' routine when he returns from filming. However, this time, you decide to change it up, as he deserves to be worshipped in every way possible.

RATING || Explicit (E)

TAGS || Actor!AU. Actor!Tony Stark. Young!Tony Stark. Established relationship. Explicit sexual content.

WARNINGS || Reader is described as tattooed.

SMUT || PWP. Daddy kink. Dirty talk. Praise. Groping. Masturbation. Cock worship. Ball play. Oral (M receiving). Deepthroating. Cum swapping. Cum swallowing.

A/N || This story expresses my endless gratitude and love for my best friend, biggest supporter, and most lovely human to grace this earth, @ccbsrmsf1. Carol, I cannot possibly thank you enough for everything you do for me, but I want you to know I love you to the moon and back. Knowing you truly improves my life, and I love you so much! I can't wait to see what the future holds for us and our friendship 💙

EVENTS Masterlist || @anyfandomkinkbingo || "It ain't gonna suck itself."

Photo: Source || Graphics are made by @nicoline1998enilocin

Main Masterlist || Tony Stark Masterlist || AU Masterlist

Four and a half months. That's how long it's been since you've seen your husband—none other than the famous actor Tony Stark—in person instead of via a laptop screen, but today, that will finally change. He's coming home, and you have freed up your entire evening, wanting nothing more than to give him the welcome home he deserves.

That's how you've found yourself on the bed in nothing but a dark red lingerie set that shows off your tattoos beautifully, waiting for your husband to find the little note you left downstairs. Candles are lit throughout the bedroom, and soft music is playing while you're waiting, the minutes ticking by in a seemingly endless fashion.

Until you hear Tony's footsteps on the stairs, carrying him to the bedroom where you're waiting. Your panties are entirely ruined from the arousal seeping through as you've patiently waited in anticipation of seeing him.

"Hi, Sun-" Tony says as the door swings open, but seeing you spread out on the bed immediately takes his breath away. Your legs spread, revealing your soaked panties as you let your fingers glide over the fabric, moaning ever so softly.

"Fuck," he whispers, his hand instantly shooting to the front of his pants, palming his rapidly hardening cock at the sight of you. A smirk lies on your lips as you pull your bottom lip between your teeth, and Tony can't help but groan at the sight in front of him.

Tony quickly undresses himself, as his clothes are all starting to feel tight and uncomfortable on his body. With every piece of clothing hitting the floor, your eyes are raking down his body, and you can't get enough as you drink in the sight of your husband.

His messy hair beautifully frames his face. A red flush on his cheeks, half-lidded eyes, and pink, puffy lips give him a boyish charm, though his body is far from it. His broad shoulders lead the way to the dusting of chest hair you love to run your fingers through. The tattoo with the names of your three children—Hudson, Orion, and Paxton—and yourself is proudly visible over his heart.

His narrow waist leads you to his dark happy trail and your final destination - his absolute monster of a cock standing at attention against his chiseled abdomen. The tip is flushed red, a bead of pre-cum already gathered at the tip of his length, and you let out a soft gasp when he grabs it, his hand slowly working himself as he looks at you.

"Look at what you're doin' to me, Sunshine. 'M so fuckin' hard for you," he growls, his New York accent shining through as you clench around nothing, your hand falling away from your pussy so you can crawl over the bed, ready to worship your husband like the God he is.

Within seconds, he's standing at the foot of the bed, right in front of you as you sit on your knees. Your hand runs over the muscular thighs that frame his cock to perfection, and you're already drooling from the thought of you getting to taste your husband again.

Tony looks at you with a smirk, tugging at the corner of his lips. His brow quirked as he looked at you, his free hand tipping your face up to meet his gaze.

"What do you think, Sunshine? Do you want to have a taste of Daddy's cock again? 'M barely even home, and you're already cock-hungry for Daddy, aren't you," he says in a low voice, and you nod sheepishly as you run your hands over his hairy thighs.

"Y-yes, Daddy, wan' your cock," you tell him, and he smirks before leaning forward and letting the tip of his cock glide over your lips, wetting them with the pre-cum already leaking from the mushroom tip.

"C'mon, Sunshine, it ain't gonna suck itself," he says, and you open your mouth, allowing Tony to feed you his cock. His fist is wrapped around the shaft, working over the light blue veins as he slowly jerks himself off while you suckle on his tip, soft moans tumbling from your lips as you savor his taste.

"That's it, fuck," he groans out as you work more of him into your mouth, your tongue laving over the throbbing veins adorning his cock. Your nails softly dig into his thighs, and Tony throws his head back as he slowly ruts in and out of the warmth of your mouth and throat.

The moment he slides into your throat, you look up at him with big doe eyes, and your husband can't help but feel like he's so lucky to have you—to be married to such an amazing woman who will let him do whatever he wants to you in the bedroom without a second thought.

Tony keeps working himself more into your throat, and without a second thought, your hand slips off his thigh, only to cup his balls and squeeze them softly, making him moan your name loudly. Not your nickname, but your actual name.

A shiver runs down your spine as he does, as it only slips out when he's really far gone for you.

"You take me so well, Sunshine; feels like heaven in there," he says in a gravelly voice as he leans down to wrap his hand around your throat, feeling himself as he pulls back before pushing back in again, all the way until you're taking all of him.

"Good girl," he groans before lacing his fingers in your hair, and he starts to speed up his previous pace. As he does, you keep playing with his balls, rolling and squeezing them just the way he likes while you suck his cock in earnest, drool starting to spill out from the corners of your mouth. It's becoming a huge mess, but neither of you cares.

"God, I'm cumming-" is all he can say before you pull back until his tip is lying on your tongue, and you feel the jerking and throbbing motions of his cock as it empties itself in your mouth while you keep looking up at your husband.

"Don't you fucking dare to swallow it, Sunshine," he says once he's done, and he pulls out of your mouth. He quickly sinks on his knees before pulling you into a messy and wet kiss, as you allow Tony to lick his cum out of your mouth as he pulls you close.

You two only let go of one another once the need for air becomes more prominent than the need for each other. You're panting as you pull back, your forehead pressed against your husband's, and you pant with a large smile on your face.

"Welcome home, My Love," you tell him before you're pushed back on the bed, and it's his turn to worship you for the rest of the night, just like the Goddess you are.

[theterrorreversebang]

Presenting, for your viewing and reading pleasure: the final collection of this year's Terror Reverse Bang, a feast of gorgeous artwork, beautiful fic, friendship, laughter, tears, …some horny. OK, a lot of horny.

You can find the AO3 collection for the event here. Summaries and links to the artwork below the cut.   

Thank you all for going on this fantastic journey with us.

Eat well and enjoy.

- ❤️, Charlie and Vio 

amateur operator (T, hickey/irving tozer/irving, 10.5k)

artwork and concept by entangled_system

fic by pointyshades

At an isolated research station at the top of a warming world, in the most inhospitable place on Earth for communications, John Irving studies signal propagation - and studiously avoids the obvious metaphor. John’s had a lot of practice at ignoring the obvious, but when an improbable random contact with an amateur radio operator calling himself "EC" leads to even more improbable regular contact with the same operator, not even John can ignore the ridiculous reality: a growing relationship with someone he knows only by their call sign; a relationship conducted half in Morse code.

John's real-life connections aren't going half so well, and neither is his research: his radio equipment keeps suffering accidents, and he can't stop getting into arguments with Sergeant Tozer, the man assigned to help him fix it. Frustrated, he turns even further toward his relationship with EC - and finds himself being urged down a path of paranoia as to who is actually damaging his equipment.

an arcane kind of murder (M, fitzier, 7.5k)

artwork and concept by pretendingday

fic by shakespeares_girl

At the Baronet Franklin's annual tourney, a series of murders begins. Francis is pressed into investigating, with the help of James Fitzjames. But Lord Franklin won't cancel the tournament, and the murders are getting more and more violent.

as per my last email (E, joplittle, 67.2k)

artwork and concept by mitarashi8

fic by manicpixiedreamjop

Edward Little has lived his life the way he thought he was supposed to. He went to a good university, got a good job as the head of PR at Erebus men’s magazine, and bought a home. He blames the fact that he hans’t dated since university on the fact that he doesn’t have time and not the fact that it terrifies him, and spends what little free time he has trying to pretend he isn’t miserable.

His neighbour Thomas Jopson has lived his life the only way he knows how. He fought his way from a childhood in foster care into a degree and a career that he loves, spending his days doing social work and his evenings volunteering with a local nonprofit supporting queer youth in the foster system. He plans his days down to the second, hardly allowing himself time for anything outside of work and sleep, but he is, at least mostly, satisfied.

When Edward’s boss is quoted saying something homophobic, it’s Edward’s job to clean up the mess, which leads him to the nonprofit that Thomas volunteers with. This new connection has the potential to turn both Edward and Thomas’ lives upside down. If only the two of them actually liked each other.

barghest. (T, joplittle, 10.3k)

artwork and concept by oughtnots

fic by derry_rain

Edward Little is a humble accountant in the late 1920s, but he has lately become haunted by visions of death: his own death, in the form of a great black dog not unlike one that bit him as a child. When his endless visions of ice and snow and the black dog won't end, he finds himself turning to a paranormal private eye: Thomas Jopson.

be that my cue to crave you (E, little/le vesconte, 9.6k)

artwork and concept by bilgewater01

fic by orchis

“If I could eat anything right now��”

“Henry.”

“Anything at all, from all the dishes and delicacies I've ever stuffed my face with—”

“Henry.”

“I think I'd go for an apple,” he finishes. “How awfully pedestrian of me. Nothing fancy, just an apple, and I don't even have the strong teeth for it anymore.”

“Henry.”

He huffs. “I hear you,” he says, and Edward can imagine him frowning, lips pursed. He wishes he could see him in the dark. “Tell me what you'd have, then, and I'll shut up about it.”

As the dark winters of the Arctic stretch before him, Edward yearns and craves and waits.

dear john (T, hodgson/irving/little, 16.6k)

artwork and concept by turnofthesentry

fic by mxjopsonfan

When John receives an anonymous love letter he resolves immediately to find the culprit. Little does he know that he is about to go on a voyage of self-discovery, realisations of deep affection, and three of her Majesty's naval Lieutenants showing how incapable they are of being Normal About Feelings.

ice wine (M, fitzier, 19.9k)

artwork and concept by o-rchidae

fic by melismata

Sir John, English wine pioneer, has survived every crisis since the 70s. Surely three bad harvests and a global pandemic aren't such a big deal? Fortunately, everyone else at Parable Wines agrees the business urgently needs saving. Unfortunately, no-one agrees how.

iceblink luck (M, fitzier, 30.4k)

artwork and concept by marella-moon - x

fic by perenial

October, 1987. With the Thatcher government entering its third term, Defence minister Sir John Franklin looks to offload two of his dockside London properties: one, a successful dance school directed by celebrated principal danseur James Fitzjames, and the other, a century-old boxing gym helmed by former middleweight Olympic hopeful turned disgraced misanthrope Francis Crozier.

In a show of generosity, Franklin offers Crozier the chance to buy out the gym he's poured over a decade of work into. It should be the opportunity he's been waiting for – except Crozier's barely keeping the gym afloat as it is, and Franklin's asking price far exceeds his means. With only one month to cough up the funds or forfeit the gym, Crozier finds himself backed into a corner, fighting for a piece of history he refuses to let go and against a past that's just waiting for him to give in.

matching such unlikes (G, fitzier, 7.5k)

artwork and concept by asparklethatisblue

fic by acephalous

In which Sir John tries his hand at matchmaking: after all who could be a more perfect match for his dear niece than James Fitzjames?

our flag means mutiny (T, hickey/gibson, 8.5k)

artwork and concept by o-rchidae

fic by borderparasol

Cornelius Hickey, William Gibson, and Solomon Tozer have successfully pulled off a grand mutiny, stealing HMS Terror to sail on the open seas and live their life free from the shackles of the Empire, plundering and making their living as pirates!

So...now what? And does anybody know how to fish?

provenance (M, jopzier fitzier silna/goodsir, 7.7k)

artwork and concept by kaupaint

fic by hangingfire

Three relics of the lost Franklin Expedition.

“Don't you get it yet? It must act like a recording, fixed in the floor and the walls. Right in the substance of them, a trace of what happened in there. And we pick it up. We act as detectors, decoders, amplifiers … It would have to be in the stone.”

—The Stone Tape, Nigel Kneale, 1972

reform your behaviour (E, irving/jopson, 9.4k)

artwork and concept by royaielfroot

fic by somelikeitred (ringofboubt)

After finding Hickey and Gibson in a compromising position, Lieutenant Irving intends to inform the Captain immediately. But when he finds Jopson first the Captain's steward persuades him to be lenient.

“Is it necessary to condemn the men -," Jopson considered his words, searching for the phrasing least likely to spook the lieutenant, "-over a desire for companionship? Is it so unforgivable for a man to be lonely?”

John studied him carefully; unable to formulate any response. Surely, Jopson could not be arguing that such vices were acceptable.

sent to the sea (E, annfitzrossier, 10.4k)

artwork and concept by brainyraccoons

fic by swanfloatieknight

After James Ross rescued them, Francis and James return to London in 1848. Francis lives with the Rosses in married bliss.

If only he could stop thinking about James Fitzjames, the bond they shared in the Arctic, and the last letter he sent that Fitzjames never replied to.

sweet to tongue, sound to eye (T, hodgson/irving/little, 10.1k)

artwork and concept by brimstone-cowboy

fic by unnecessary

After an Admiralty party bidding them farewell, the lieutenants get lost in Hampstead Heath. But not all is as it seems...

those wretched beings (M, multiple characters, 7.8k)

artwork and concept by melisusthewee

fic by notinmylab

A very literal take on the idea that colonialism is an infectious disease and that English ships are the carriers. Or, a zombie AU where Something Else is on the ice with them.

unerring devotion (T, jopzier, 7.5k)

artwork and concept by awhbeans

fic by yellow

Everyone else called Francis Frank, but in the quiet of their tent Thomas called him Francis.

Francis wore his two identities awkwardly, like an ill-fitting suit he couldn’t take off. He slipped into old fashioned speech and complained that people thought it affected. But Thomas liked it, just like he liked that Francis still let him call him Francis, and didn’t insist they were different people now. Quite the opposite.

If anything, Thomas was the one who had taken his two lives and separated them neatly, folded them and put them away. With Francis he could take out Thomas and put it on, like crawling into another skin. It was worn and battered but Francis seemed to like it best, and Thomas was glad of it.

---

Thomas Jopson and Francis Crozier are reincarnated. They find each other, and then they set out to find their missing men.

unknown by name or rank (E, joplittle, 17.1k)

artwork and concept by mitarashi8

fic by hypallepse

Years after the Great War, in a tiny illegal pub in the British countryside, Thomas met an awkward veteran and Edward a mysterious war nurse. They almost crashed in their desire to get to know each other, they shared an evening like no other, before having their night cut short by a police raid. How to find the other back with no memory of each other’s name or address? Why even try?

Both of them will stumble in the dark, battling the remnants of the war, unaware of the secret they will unearth in their effort to get that new chance at life.

[michelleleewise]

My Angel

Pairing: Avenger Loki x female reader

Warnings: mutual pining, friends to lovers, mild jealousy, swearing, mentions of alcohol, heavy petting, smut, soft smut, sub Loki, penatrative sex (p in v), mild dirty talk, fluffy stuff, smuffy stuff!!

Summary: Loki has wanted more from your friendship for some time but not sure how to tell you, but when an opportunity arises he takes a chance...

A/n- I wrote this for the lovely @mochie85 !! Ever since you sent this to me its been working its way through my brain and came out this!! Thank you so much for your endless support, inspiration and friendship!! You an absolutely amazing person and don't you ever forget it love!! 💚💚💚

You finished applying your eye liner, touching up your lipstick before adjusting your shirt, pushing your boobs up looking in the mirror. "You are damn hot." You winked at yourself walking into the living room grabbing your boots when a knock came at the door "come in." You called out, sitting on the couch seeing Loki walk in "Hello darling." He said smiling "hey Mischief, what are you up to?" You answer lacing your boots up. "I was wondering if you cared to watch a film with me?" He asked pushing his hands into his pockets. "Oh...um....I'm sorry Loki, I have plans." You said standing up pulling your skirt down, granted it barely covered anything anyway.

"Are you going to that....place again?" He asked, irritation laced in his tone. "Woah there...that "place" is a bar, and yes I am." You said air quoting grabbing your purse. "Are you.." he trailed off as you bent over fixing the lace on your boot "am I what?" You asked standing up "g..going alone?" He asked clearing his throat, you could swear there was a pink tint on his cheeks. "I'm meeting a couple of my girls there....why?" You asked crossing your arms. "I was only curious...what if something happens to you?" He asked looking down. You walked over grabbing his shoulder "You have nothing to worry about." You smiled as he looked up at you, his eyes drawing you in "they have bouncers and security, nothing will happen to me." You said rubbing his arms.

"You are certain you won't change your mind?" He asked "it's open mic night, and I wanna see who all is going to play." You said winking at him seeing him nod looking down again "What's wrong Mischief?" You asked tilting your head. "Nothing, I just wish to make sure my friend is ok, that's all." He said with a smile but you could tell his heart wasn't in it. "Oh come now, you know I'm your best friend." You smiled, the word feeling like ash in your mouth, you wanted to be so much more then friends with this man...God. "that is accurate." He laughed shaking his head. "Come, walk me out" you said lacing your arm with his. "When will you be back?" He asked walking you to the elevator "um..good question, I'm not sure." You smiled hitting the button.

"Will you call me.....if you need anything that is." He said fidgeting with his hands. "Yes, you will be the first." You said as the doors opened. "Ok, I'll see you later Mischief." You said reaching up to kiss his cheek when he turned his head slightly, causing your lips to land at the corner of his mouth. You pulled back looking up at him "i..sorry, I didn't mean to umm.." you stuttered feeling your face heat up "im...I'm just gonna go, bye Loki." You said rushing onto the elevator hitting the button. "Have a pleasant evening y/n." He said smiling as the doors closed. "Uuuugh." You groaned, pressing your forehead to the wall "why can't you grow a spine and tell him?" You asked yourself sighing "cause he's your friend, and you'll just mess it up that's why." You said aloud when the doors opened at street level. You shook your head, hoping tonight will distract your mind, atleast for a little while.

ooOOoo

You came back to the table, passing out the drinks you grabbed from the bar. "Do you think the next one will be any good?" Your friend Susie asking taking a sip "can't be any worse then the last one." Your other friend jewel said laughing "isn't that the truth." You said sipping your drink. "Hey, you ever tell that guy you like how you feel?" Susie asked looking at you "no, I wanted to....I was actually going to invite him tonight but I don't think he'd really enjoy it." You said shrugging "besides, he called me his "friend" earlier." You said looking down "ouch...sorry." jewel said rubbing your shoulder "it's fine, better his friend then nothing right?" You asked with a small smile when the announcer came on the stage.

"Hello again! And welcome to open mic night. Next, we have a very special treat for you all!" He said when you looked up "our next performer has never played here before, but if he plays as good as he looks your all gonna love him!" He said hearing everyone laugh "so, without further ado....L!" He said clapping, the room joined him you saw a tall man slowly walk out onto the stage, his long hair covering his face wearing a black button up, the top three undone revealing his chest, his black jeans tight around his legs outlining his muscular thighs, his leather boots echoing through the room as he walked to the mic with purposeful steps, a black guitar hanging from his shoulder.

"Mm...this is promising." Susie said smiling making you laugh. You looked back to the stage freezing as the man flipped his hair back revealing who it was. "Good evening everyone, I would like to dedicate this to a special lady in the audience tonight." He said into the mic, turning back to the band you watched as he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt up exposing his foreams, your eyes tracing the veins running up his arms, his dark jeans hugging every inch of him, perfectly outlining...everything. He turned back to the crowd holding his arms out, his deep green eyes meeting yours as the lights went out, plunging the room into darkness. Everyone sat in silence, a few whispers floated through the room when the guitar riff came to life, the stage lights slowly rising bathing him in a dim green light, fog swirling around him..

Make up your mind...Decide to walk with me...Around the lake tonight...Around the lake tonight

By my side...By my side

You sat back, mouth hanging open as his deep, sultry voice filled the room, demanding attention as his long fingers traveling the neck of the guitar, his arms flexing with the movement. What those fingers could do to you...

I'm not gonna lie...I'll not be a gentleman...Behind the boathouse...I'll show you my dark secret

Locking eyes with you at the last line, he backed away from the mic, tilting his head back slightly as his tongue slipped out licking his lips. "Holy shit.." you muttered not able to look away as he stepped back up, his lips touching the mic..

I'm not gonna lie...I want you for mine...My blushing bride...My lover, be my lover, yeah...

Don't be afraid...I didn't mean to scare you...So help me, Jesus...

He took a step back, looking down at the guitar as his fingers glided across it, his thigh flexing as he tapped his foot on the floor in time making you bite your lip, rubbing your thighs together as he threw his head back, his long curls spraying across his shoulders, a few strands sticking to his forehead a he stepped back to the mic, his eyes meeting yours...

I can promise you...You'll stay as beautiful...With dark hair...And soft skin, forever...Forever...

Make up your mind...Make up your mind...And I'll promise you

I will treat you well...My sweet angel...So help me, Jesus

You vaguely heard your friends cat calling him as his body swayed with the music, his shoulders flexing with the weight of the guitar, his skin damp from the heat of the lights...

Give it up to me...Give it up to me...

Do you wanna be...My angel?

A shiver ran up your spine as his voiced dropped, the deep bass shooting through you.

Give it up to me...Give it up to me...

Do you wanna be...My angel?

"Yes....I do..." you whispered, leaning forward watching the muscles in his neck flex, making you want to sink your teeth into them.

Give it up to me...Give it up to me...Do you wanna be...My angel?

So help me

His voice resonated through, traveling through every inch of you igniting something deep inside you, something...feral. you bit down hard on your lip, scooting to the edge of your seat as he stepped in front of the mic, his long legs spread wide as the solo started. Biting his lip you watched his fingers dance up and down the neck of the guitar, his curls bouncing as his head slowly bobbed up and down. Pressing your thighs together imagining his head between your legs, his head slowly moving up and down, curls rubbing against your skin as he brought you to the brink....

Be my angel...Be my angel...Be my angel

Do you wanna die?...Do you wanna die?...Do you wanna die?...Do you wanna die?

Do you wanna die?...Do you wanna die?...Do you wanna die?...Do you wanna die?

"He's trying to kill me." You said to yourself, feeling the evidence of your arousal in your panties as his deep voice vibrated through you. His eyes not leaving yours as you tried to cross one leg over the other seeing a smirk spread across his face, his lips pressing to the mic..

Well, I promise you...I will treat you well...My sweet angel...So help me, Jesus

Jesus...Jesus...Jesus

The end of the song came as the lights came back up around the room, everyone jumping to their feet clapping and hollering when every women in the room advanced to the stage, including your friends...leaving you alone at the table. Looking up you locked eyes with him, licking his lips he winked before he took a long bow holding his arms out. "Thank you so much everyone! Have a pleasant evening." He said before taking long strides off the stage to somewhere in the back. You downed your drink, trying to compose yourself when your friends joined you again "Dammit, I was hoping I'd get to snag him for the night." Susie said sitting down. "W..was he not interested?" You asked looking down "nope....said he was with someone." She huffed downing her drink.

You furrowed your eyebrows looking at her "he's not with anyone." You said to yourself looking back to the stage. "Hey, I gotta run to the restroom." You said jumping up before they could say anything. You looked around seeing everyone return to their drinks and conversations, allowing you to slip unnoticed behind the stage. You walked around for a minute, checking room after room "Dammit laufeyson, where are you?" You whispered crossing your arms "looking for me?" You heard his voice behind you making you freeze. You cleared your throat slowly turning around, taking in his tall frame still clad in black, his pale skin covered in a sheen of sweat. "L..loki..." you stuttered, your eyes traveling down to where the guitar was before.

"Up here darling." He purred, your eyes shooting to his seeing him smirk. "Did you enjoy the show?" He asked taking a stop forward, looking you up and down "from what I see, I would say yes." He smiled, coming to stand chest to chest with you, leaning down slightly "from what I smell, I would say very." He whispered in your ear. Feeling your face heat up you looked down fidgeting with your fingers "L..loki.." you said, feeling his fingers under your chin making you look at him "yes darling?" He asked, his eyes searching yours "yes..." you sighed grabbing his wrists "yes what?" He asked leaning closer "I want to be your angel." You breathed, seeing him smile you lunged forward, pressing your lips to his pressing him into the nearest wall.

You slid your tongue along his bottom lip, hands exploring his chest gently kicking his legs apart, your hands sliding down his abs landing on his belt, the metal clinking as your fingers worked to open it. His lips parted in a soft moan, taking the opportunity you slipped your tongue past his lips, relishing the feeling of his soft lips against yours, his tongue caressing yours when you unbuttoned his jeans, slowly sliding a hand down wrapping your fingers around his length, slowly sliding up and down as your other hand went to his hair, holding him to you swallowing his moans feeling his hands grip your sides.

He broke the kiss, leaning his head against the wall while you continue to stroke him, twisting your wrist reaching the base. "Aahh gods...d..darling..." he stuttered, screwing his eyes shut slowly rocking his hips with your hand. You reached up, nipping at his pulse point feeling him shiver. You reached over, opening the door next to you seeing it empty, a small love seat in the corner. You removed your hand from his length hearing him whine and look down at you "shh....come on." You said grabbing the front of his shirt dragging him inside. Kicking the door shut your lips found his again as you backed him up to the love seat, his long legs spread wide as you pushed him down standing over him.

You smiled down at him sliding your hands up under your skirt, sliding your panties down as his eyes never left you. You stepped out of them, walking over to him you leaned down, hooking your fingers under the hem of his jeans as he lifted up allowing you to slide them down his legs, your hands gliding up his thighs as you went to staddle him. You grabbed his cock, slowly stoking him as you lined him up "wait..y/n.." he panted, gently grabbing your wrist "is something wrong?" You asked looking into his eyes "no..it's just.." he trailed off looking at you "tell me your mine...please...that this isn't just..." you cut him off, genlty pressing your lips to his, looking into his eyes "Loki...I'm yours...I always have been.." you said.

You watched his pupils dilate, his fingers teasing the hem of your shirt when you leaned back, raising your arms letting him pull your shirt over your head "you are so beautiful.." he breathed, his fingers ghosting over your shoulders making you shiver. You leaned down, nipping and sucking on his pulse point feeling his fingers dig into your hips. "Say your mine Loki...tell me..." you breathed, biting his earlobe hearing him groan "i...I am yours y/n...always...." he breathed, tilting his head back against the couch. You reached down, wrapping your fingers around him lining him back up "ready?" You asked as he leaned up looking at you "y..yes.." he moaned as you slowly sank down on him, feeling your walls stretch around him "fuck...your so big..." you moaned, throwing your head back feeling every inch of him as he bottomed out.

"Y/n...aahh....move please...i...." he moaned, wrapping his arms around your back pulling you to him as you lifted your hips up, slowly sinking back down onto him. He buried his face in the valley of your breasts, your hands threading through his hair feeling his fingers gently ghost up and down your back. "Aahh fuck...Loki..." you moaned, closing your eyes feeling him rock his hips with yours. You sped up your pace, feeling the tightness in your stomach "l...loki....im....ahh...." you moaned, digging your fingers into his hair "I know...I can...ahh feel you..." he groaned, looking up at you "Come with me y/n.." he panted, thrusting up into you.

You leaned down, engulfing his mouth with yours, your tongues exploring eachother as you came hard, moaning into his mouth. Pulling his hair you heard him growl, gripping your hips holding you onto him feeling him twitch inside you, swallowing his moans as he came hard, coating your walls with his release. You pulled back, pressing your forehead for his, seeing his eyes closed making you smile. You sat back, cupping his cheeks when he slowly opened his eyes looking up at you smiling "loki, I don't think we can be friends anymore" you panted, your thumbs running along his cheekbones "w..why..." he started furrowing his eyebrows "because, I want so much more then that." You said pushing his hair back "would you go out with me?" You asked seeing him smile "I would love nothing more...my angel." He said, leaning up pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "Come on Mischief, let's go home, I'm not done with you yet." You winked seeing his eyes darken "as you wish darling." ...

💚🐍💚🐍💚🐍💚🐍💚🐍💚🐍💚🐍💚🐍💚🐍💚

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[thankeywa]

Hey! Can you write a aged up lo'ak x female human fanfic where they go to the lab for the first time since they officialized their relationship, the reader then realizes that they could kiss ( something they were desperate to do) bc she's not wearing her exopack, then she pulls him to a private spot and kisses him softly, leaving him surprised? After the kiss, they can keep kissing and smiling softly between the kisses, maybe that can become their secret spot afterwards.

A.N: thank you for this request, and sorry it took me so long to get to it! My brain always wants to be extra about everything and it took me a while to decide how I wanted to write this! ALSO you always like my stuff and you started following me from the very beginning so thank you, thank you, thank you! Hopefully it won't take me as long to write the idea you sent me recently and yeah, hope you like this!

T.W: none! just fluff and a lil making out. Lo'ak and fem!Human!reader are aged up. As always minors DNI.

Words: 1.5k

Na'vi words:

'evi: child (said affectionately by someone older)

MY ASKS ARE OPEN, SEND ME REQUESTS.

This must be the place | Lo'ak x fem!human!reader

I'm just an animal looking for a home, and share the same space for a minute or two

Each one of the Sullys had reacted quite...differently to Lo'ak and y/n announcement. Neteyam and Kiri had already known, maybe even long before their own younger brother, that the two shared strong feelings for each other, ones that went well beyond friendship. And while Kiri had simply accepted the news gracefully, happy for her brother and her best friend, Neteyam decided he now had full reign to tease Lo'ak out in the open about it. He especially liked to embarrass Lo'ak in front of y/n.

"My little bro is in love." He'd say to purposely get on Lo'ak nerves and make y/n laugh, as it would eventually spark a squabble between the two brothers.

Tuk was going through her teenage phase, and she didn't say much about it other than: "Yeah, what else is new? You actually told mom and dad yet?"

Y/n knew Lo'ak had been dreading telling his parents about the two of them. He hadn't said anything about it specifically, but she could tell he was on edge. They'd had very difficult conversations in the past, after getting together, about possibly keeping their relationship a secret, as y/n was concerned about the repercussions it could have had on Lo'ak. On his relationship with his family and the clan. But Lo'ak had outright refused to even consider it. "I love you, y/n. And by Eywa's grace, I have been given the gift of your love in return. I will not squander that gift by keeping us a secret..."

Sometimes y/n couldn't even understand how she'd gotten so lucky. It was clear to her that the Na'vi loved her more than anything in the world, no matter how much distance there was between them. In physical terms, there was quite a lot of it. Y/n couldn't breathe on Pandora without her exopack, and having to wear it all the time when she was outside of the lab made her feel even more self-conscious than she already was about her appearance. This meant that the two of them hadn't even shared their first real kiss, and Lo'ak was already telling his family about them.

It felt a little surreal to y/n, but she knew how important tradition was to the Omaticaya and she was ready to support Lo'ak no matter what. Jake had been the first one to speak, interrupting the seemingly endless silence that followed Lo'ak's declaration. No doubt both his parents were in shock to find out their son was in love with a human.

"You have always been part of this family, y/n." He said, after tearing his eyes away from Neytiri's. Y/n had hoped Lo'ak's father would have been accepting of them, knowing his history. And she was more than relieved to find out she hadn't been wrong about him, giving Lo'ak's hand a squeeze of reassurance. "Thank you, Mr. Sully-- I mean Olo'eyktan-" She scrambled her words and Neytiri cut her off briskly.

"Ke-he." She spoke, and y/n felt a cold shiver run down her spine as Lo'ak stepped in front of her protectively, but his mother stopped him in his tracks with her bow. "You are a Sully now, 'evi." Neytiri continued, looking back at y/n. "So you speak with strength. I know you keep my youngest son out of trouble." Lo'ak and y/n looked at each other bashfully, she beamed at the relief she saw on his face. Neither of them could have ever hoped for Neytiri to take the news so well. "That takes strength. So, as Tsahik, I bless this union, and I pray that you do not regret choosing such a reckless boy." Neytiri gave Lo'ak a warning look, making y/n bite back a smile at the embarrassed expression on her boyfriend's face.

After a long day of emotional rollercoasters, it was time to make their last stop at the lab where Max and Norm worked, and y/n had spent most of her life, to give them the news. Y/n was not surprised by the fact that Lo'ak's siblings had wanted to tag along, and she was mostly amused by their antics while she could see that their almost constant lack of privacy was beginning to wear Lo'ak down. He carried her on his back as they walked through the forest, and she had her arms wrapped tightly around his neck. "I'm so proud of what you did today..." She whispered so only Lo'ak could hear, while his brother and sisters were distracted by an argument they were all having.

Lo'ak's ears lowered, giving away how flustered y/n statement made him feel. "I'm proud of the woman I've chosen." Y/n hugged him even tighter at the sound of those words, burying her exopack covered face in the crook of his neck. She desperately wished she could have kissed him at that very moment.

"Awwwwww." Kiri and Tuk cooed, catching sight of what was happening behind them, while Neteyam did a poor attempt at wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Y/n laughed a little, flushing slightly from being caught, while Lo'ak outright hissed at them menacingly. "Why are you guys even here? Mind your own business!"

"Oh, loverboy's got his tail in a twist." Kiri teased her younger brother and y/n had to physically restrain him from charging at her. Y/n managed to get him to calm down just in time for them to arrive at the lab. Norm and Max were very happy to hear the news, though they confessed they'd already had their suspicions. Lo'ak's sibling agreed, going on a long rant about how obvious the two of them were. Oddly, an argument sparked about who had known about them first, and y/n, while finding it all somewhat amusing, could tell Lo'ak was standing on his last nerve.

Now that she was no longer wearing her exopack and Lo'ak only needed to take regular breaths from his respirator mask every hour or so, y/n couldn't wait any longer. She pulled him to the side, and they exited the room where everyone was still debating details on their love life. "Eywa as my witness." Lo'ak was still fuming as y/n lead him through the compound until they reached her private study where she carried out most of her own research. "If those three don't stop-"

Y/n got up on her desk and gently pulled Lo'ak toward her, pecking his lips softly. She pulled away slightly to catch his wide-eyed look of surprise, beaming at him. "You gonna keep being grumpy? Or will another kiss make it better?" Y/n asked, tugging playfully at his braids as a smile began to return to his face. In fact, Lo'ak felt like he couldn't stop smiling. Y/n had just broken him.

"I think... I think a few more, yeah..." He made a poor attempt at still seeming upset. "I'm still... very grumpy..." Lo'ak hoisted her up in his arms, making her yelp in surprise. "Well, in that case..." She giggled before leaning in for another kiss. Lo'ak reciprocated in an instant the second time around, moving his lips carefully against y/n's as he followed her lead. The Na'vi couldn't get enough of her taste, and the only thing that made him pull back every once in a while was the need to catch a glimpse of her flushed cheeks.

Y/n couldn't stop smiling whenever Lo'ak pulled away to look at her, slightly embarrassed by her inexperience, but ultimately not caring when the feeling of his lips on hers melted all of her worries away. "Mmh, someone seems to have changed their mood..." She murmured, kissing the corner of Lo'ak's lips and the side of his jaw. "Yes- no, I mean--- no, I'm in hell. Only your kisses can save me from the agony..." Lo'ak never wanted her to stop, not even for a single second. How had they been able to keep apart from each other for so long?

Y/n snorted at his poor acting skills but was more than happy to give in to her boyfriend's whines. Time seemed to lose all meaning, and thankfully y/n was immediately able to recognize the signs of shortness of breath that Lo'ak was experiencing since he was too taken with littering her cheeks and neck with kisses, he hadn't even noticed he was struggling to breathe. "Skxawng, give me your mask..." She reached for the respirator around his neck and quickly brought it up to his face, listening to his breathing steadily go back to normal.

Y/n shook her head and laughed at the look on his face once he'd pulled the mask away. It was priceless. "What? I forgot, okay?" His cheeks were a very nice shade of deep blue.

"You forgot to breathe?" She laughed again.

"'S not my fault, you had me a lil distracted..." He shrugged, unable to hide his cheekiness with an obvious grin.

Y/n sighed and pulled Lo'ak back into her embrace. They had to say goodbye before the eclipse came and changed the landscape of Pandora for the night. Lo'ak's siblings were already long gone. Leaving y/n was always difficult, but this time the Na'vi wasn't at all worried. They now had a place for the two of them to call their own, and Lo'ak was certain the two of them were going to be meeting there every single day for the rest of their lives.

[circethesinner]

Hello. Can I request an ask ? Xavier x vampire female reader. She can read minds and she is the new student at Nevermore Academy.

Thank you so much !❤️🥺

suave

pairing: xavier thorpe x reader oneshot (second person pov - she/her pronouns used for reader - occasional use of Y/N)

warning(s) : mild language, small injury and bl**d mentioned

word count: 2.5k

⭑•⊱✩masterlist✩⊰•⭑

A/N - eee first ever request thank you!!! I hope its okay! full disclosure before we begin - one of my special interests is what we do in the shadows so I've decided that vampires are just chaos gremlins

I support womens rights, but more importantly, womens wrongs 😌💅

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Being a newborn vampire sucked.

Everything was too bright, smells were too strong, and your beloved garlic bread sent you to the hospital on four occasions, but goddamn it, you were going to build up a tolerance if it was the last thing you did. Which, at your rate, it probably would be.

How were you supposed to live, laugh, love in those conditions? Instead, you had to settle for manipulate, mansplain, m̶a̶n̶s̶l̶a̶u̶g̶h̶t̶e̶r̶  mind reading.

Hearing other people’s thoughts when you spoke to them was nothing short of exhausting. It wasn’t that it was difficult or strenuous on your body; it was just boring. People were so boring.

Day in, day out, you heard people’s shopping lists, people wondering if the person they liked would ask them out, people trying to multiply things in their heads; the list was endless and dull and endlessly dull. When the most exciting part of your day was hearing someone have an internal meltdown because they were sure someone had just seen them pick their nose and now thought poorly of them, you knew it was time for a change of pace.

That’s when you ended up at Nevermore.

Well, that and your normie parents were panicking because they didn’t know what to do for their newly turned vampire daughter. Nevermore had teachers who could teach you how to vampire properly and stop antagonising the neighbourhood by flying through people’s houses as a bat and stealing jewellery because no cop would believe them when they said a small, winged rodent-like creature flew through the window and stole their grandma’s necklace.

Your new roommate, Yoko, had taken pity on you and taken you under her wing. She had shown you the ropes of the school, ropes which you had promptly cut just to see what would fall.

It wasn’t that you were lying about being able to read minds; you just conveniently ‘forgot’ to tell anyone about it. So, a few weeks into your time at Nevermore, a Twitter account popped up on everyone’s feeds. It was just your run-of-the-mill anonymous gossip, but what caught people’s eyes was that thoughts and opinions that had never even touched their lips were being shared.

Nothing inherently harmful, of course. You weren’t out to ruin lives; just shake them up a little.

Crushes were spilt, cheating was exposed, friendships were made, and friendships were broken. It was all just playful fun in your eyes.

To divert attention from yourself, you would add some of your ‘thoughts’ to the account. Things that would only be mildly embarrassing that you could easily brush off.

“Looks like you’re the hot topic today,” Yoko smiled, her eyes peeking out from atop her sunglasses as they had slipped down her face. She showed her phone screen to you, and you pretended to act surprised as you read the words ‘Y/N thinks Kent is cute’ as though you hadn’t been the one to write them.

“I won’t deny it; he’s easy on the eyes,” You shrugged, looking over at Kent, catching him looking at you. His face flushed red, and he looked away. “In, like, a puppy way.”

“Are you going to ask him out?” Yoko asked, her eyes looking over at him as well. “He’d say yes, but I think he’s just scared of you.”

“He’s scared of his own shadow,” You laughed, passing her phone back. “Again, he’s cute in a puppy way, not in an ‘I want to date him’ way- sorry, bud!” You called out the last words to Kent, who you knew had been listening in from the other table. Confusion and relief flooded his face, and you knew you’d picked the right person. Anyone else would have been more vocal about it. You would have risked being publicly rejected or, worse, asked out. You hedged your bets on Kent doing nothing about it, and it worked.

You scanned around the quad, hopping into people’s minds to see if you could pull anything out that would be useful to you later. It was like you were channel hopping, hearing bits and clips of people’s thoughts until something grabbed your interest.

“Wonder if Thing would like this new nail polish-” You heard from Enid.

“Who sets homework for-” You skipped Ajax almost immediately as you didn’t want to listen to him internally complain about homework for the seventh time in three days.

“Glad she doesn’t actually like him because I-” From Xavier.

“I just wish I-” You heard the start of Divina’s thoughts but panicked and switched back to Xavier. By the time you had, you had realised you were too late. Whatever he had been thinking had been derailed by Ajax talking to him about homework, and now his thoughts were focused on that.

Could he have been thinking about you? The timing would make sense. He was at the table over with Kent, and he would have been able to hear your conversation just as well. Your mind flooded with possibilities on how his thought could have ended. Against your will, it had fixated on the idea that maybe, just maybe, Xavier was glad you didn’t like Kent because he liked you.

What was also against your will was your mind, for some unknown reason, liked that idea.

You decided that you needed to keep tabs on his mind just to gather proof that you were wrong. There was no way that thought was about you, and even if it was, there was no way that was the reason behind it.

“Earth to Y/N!” Yoko snapped her fingers in front of your face, bringing you back into the moment. “Have you listened to a word I’ve been saying?”

“Yoko, my love, I am sorry, but I have not,” You used the pet name, hoping it would quell her bubbling annoyance at you. It was seemingly successful as she smiled.

“It’s okay! I can repeat myself… again!” She teased. You could only hope that a certain someone would also repeat themselves soon.

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You had been listening in to Xavier’s thoughts almost obsessively for a week, hoping to catch him thinking about you. You were barely paying attention in class as you were so wrapped up in this idea that maybe, just maybe, Xavier liked you. It was driving you crazy not to get the answers you wanted.

Then one day, at dinner, you got an answer.

Well, sort of.

Bianca was upset, and as her friend, you wanted to cheer her up. You didn’t pry far into her mind. You just knew that it was something to do with her mom. It wasn’t your business, and you didn’t make it your business. You were throwing M&Ms up into the air, trying to catch them in your mouth again. It had resulted in stray M&Ms on the floor, which you swore you would pick up when you were done.

After fourteen failed attempts, the fifteenth landed in your mouth, and you very openly cheered. The whole ordeal had put a smile on Bianca’s face, despite her eye-rolls about how mature you were being. 

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, you heard his thoughts.

“That was cute,” It wasn’t exactly the love confession you had been hoping for, but it was something, and something was better than the whole heaps of nothing you’d been getting up until then. It had left you almost frozen in time for a split second, only snapping out of it when the one who had invaded your thoughts as you invaded his reached over to pluck out a stray M&M that had somehow gotten caught in your hair.

Effortlessly, he threw it up in the air and caught it in his mouth on the first try.

“Show-off,” You teased, trying not to get caught up on how cute and suave that move had been. That idea was thrown when he winked at you as he stood up to return to his dorm.

You realised that in your endeavours to see if he had a crush on you, you’d developed one on him. 

But you decided that two could play at the cute and suave game, and you set in motion a plan.

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“What the fuck?” Xavier shouted as you, in your bat form, flew through the window and crashed against the wall. You transformed back to your human form and held your now-pounding head.

“That…” You stumbled slightly, trying to stay upright as you turned around to face him. “That went so much better in my head.” “Why the hell did you even do it?” He was definitely confused, but his voice was also laced with concern. “Shit, your head is bleeding a bit.” He grabbed an old black hoodie he didn’t care too much for anymore and walked up to you. He gently pulled your hands away from where you had been clutching your head and held the hoodie up to it to try and stop the bleeding.

“Vampires in movies are so cool and suave,” You groaned, the reality of your situation hitting you almost as hard as you had hit the wall. “I wanted to be like them.” You avoided adding the ‘and you’ that followed it in your mind. You thanked whatever Gods there were that he couldn’t read your mind in return.

“That really doesn’t explain why you did it in the first place,” Xavier laughed. He had carefully pulled you over to sit down on his bed, which your shaking legs greatly appreciated. You weren’t sure if you were shaking from the shock or the nerves of what was about to come out of your mouth or if it was a horrid mixture of the two that had turned your entire body to jello.

“Okay, so…” You sighed, figuring it would just be easier to say it than dodge around it. As you had just awfully demonstrated, subtlety was not one of your strong suits. “I wanted to be all cute and mysterious so you would be more likely to say yes when I asked you if you wanted to go out on a date.” You felt his muscles stiffen next to you, but his hold on the hoodie hadn’t stopped.

You felt the nerves bubble up in your throat, hoping that rejection would be quick and painless and that you could just laugh it all off.

Then, he started laughing.

Somehow, that made it worse. He was probably laughing at you. You tried to dive into his mind to confirm your suspicions, but you were met with pain and mental static. You almost laughed at the idea that the hoodie was blocking your signal.

“There are so many easier ways to do that,” His laughter had settled down a little after a few seconds. “You could have spoken to me in person, called me, texted me; even a written letter slipped into my bag would have done the trick.”

“My handwriting sucks,” You laughed a little with him. It was easier to laugh off than to let the embarrassment consume you, and his own laughter had helped, even if it was aimed at you rather than with you. “And texts aren’t cool or mysterious.”

“The bleeding has mostly stopped, but you might want to get it checked out at the infirmary in case you have a concussion,” Xavier carefully pulled the hoodie away and tossed it to the side. “So, are you going to do it?”

“Yeah, I’ll go to the infirmary on my way back to my room,” You nodded, wincing at the pain that it caused.

“That’s good, but it's not what I meant,” He held out his arm to prevent you from standing up.

“What do you mean?” You asked, doing your best to avoid eye contact and find some sort of escape plan so you could crawl into a hole and regret the life choices you had made thus far.

“Are you going to ask me out on a date?” Your eyes widened as the words registered in your brain, and you looked up at him, still doing your best to avoid eye contact in case you lost your nerve.

“Depends if you’re going to say yes,” You tried not to look too hopeful, trying to cling onto any sliver of keeping cool after the disaster that the whole interaction had been so far.

“You’ll have to ask me to find out,” He fired back, a sly smile on his face. You took a deep breath.

“Do you… want to go out on a date?” You asked.

“With who?” He teased. Annoyance flashed past your face at how difficult he was making things, but he spoke again. “I’m kidding! It would be an honour to go out on a date with you.”

Relief washed through you. It had worked. Despite the absolute chaos and everything going wrong, it had worked.

“Do you know how many times I had to think about how much I liked you around you until you heard it?” Xavier laughed. You looked at him with confusion.

“Wait, do you know-” You started to ask, but he cut you off. “Do I know that you can read minds?” He finished for you. “Do you remember your second day at Nevermore? I left my hoodie on my chair in botany. I realised it halfway out the door, but before I could turn and grab it, you were behind me, holding it out to me. Then, you said that the torn seam was easily fixable and that I could borrow the sewing kit you’d brought with you.”

“Which you did!” You recalled the memory from the months before. “How did that clue you in, though? I thought I’d been careful and said it as though I’d seen the tear.”

“I’d mistaken the hoodie I had with me for another one,” He explained. “The hoodie I had was fine. The one with the tear was in the wash. I thought it was weird, so I tested things a few times. I’d think about certain things, and you would casually bring them up or direct the conversation so I could be the one to bring them up.”

“And during that time, I guess I fell for you,” Your face flushed as you heard that thought, loud and clear.

“I know you heard that one,” Xavier laughed nervously. “I hope that didn’t overstep any boundaries.”

“Xavier, I just flew in through your window after regularly reading your thoughts. If anyone overstepped boundaries, it was for sure me!” You snorted with laughter as you spoke. Hearing Xavier think it was ‘cute’ made your face feel hot but in a pleasant way. You managed to calm down a little as you made eye contact with him for what was the first time since you’d flung yourself into his room.

“I want to kiss you,” You heard his thoughts again, loud and clear.

“Then do it,” You told him. It was a challenge he was more than to accept as he gently took your chin in his hand, tilting your head up and pressing a soft kiss against your lips which you gladly returned.

A/N - have I beta read this at all? hell no - any mistakes y'all find please lemme know 💀

feel free to send in any requests for xavier or other wednesday characters and I will get to what I can!!