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myouicieloz · 4 months

Note

You overhear Karina talking about how clingy you are and from then out started being distant and non-affectionate towards her and she eventually confronts you and asks why you keep pushing her away, to which you tell her

Over her

Yoo Jimin x reader

Warnings: a little smut in the end (just a little). reader and yn don’t really talk abt it tbh. skipping meals (? idk how to word it better than this).

Word count: 5.4k

Notes: I’m alive!!! sorry for taking forever to answer 😔. I think your message got cut off? so I got a little creative, I hope you don’t mind :). If you do, I can still cut out a few things n stuff. anyways, merry early christmas ig ^^ ps: I also didn’t know if this was supposed to be smut, so I only wrote a little and in the end.

You’ve always been utterly, embarrassingly, completely enamored with your girlfriend. It was obvious to anyone who looked at you for even a single second; you would always be caught staring at Karina with loving eyes, often going out of your way to simply please and spoil her rotten, showering her with kisses and gifts. For you, it was physically impossible to be without her for too long. Her absence made your heart ache, almost as if there were something missing from you. It was difficult to go on with your routine if you didn’t have her by your side. You missed your late night talks, walks at the park, parking lot dates, eating too much junk food together… You missed her, truthfully. All of her.

Naturally, you understood her duties as an idol: being away for shows, events, and photoshoots were part of her life just as much as you were. However, you knew Karina’s time was precious and scarce— which was why, whenever she was back in Seoul, you tried to spend as much quality time together as possible.

Even now, as the group’s busy with their latest Mini Album’s promotions, you couldn’t help but to feel glistening with happiness to have the four girls back in Korea, regardless of them still being so occupied with fansigns, program attendances and rehearsals for their upcoming stages and festival performances. Having them in town gives you the opportunity to join them backstage, which you absolute love; whether it’s the artistic atmosphere, or being able to understand how this industry truly works, with all the engines running frantically in the girls’ background to ensure everything goes as planned… And, of course, getting to watch Karina perform and be the astonishing, all-rounder, talented version of herself was the best part of it all. Anytime you look at her through the big screens, you realize how lucky you truly are— to be able to see all sides of her. To witness how sweet, shy and caring she could also be, once the cameras were not around.

You loved her so much.

“Congratulations, girls! You absolutely nailed it!” You praise the four girls as soon as they leave the stage, breathless from performing at a University Festival. They all smile back, trying to recompose themselves as best as they can, the adrenaline from being on stage slowly running out. You wait for them to calm down, too, before reaching out to give your girlfriend a big hug, in hopes to express yourself through your touches. You mean to tell her how wonderful she had done, but she ends the hug quickly, although her smile still lingers.

“I’m all sweaty, Y/n.” She explains, which you nod and take a step back to give her space. The two of you walk side by side, towards the big dressing room. “I don’t want you to get dirty, too.”

You shrug, trying to hide the uncomfortable feeling that stood on your heart, with the lack of her touches. You understood, though. Karina’s just taking care of you, like the sweet girlfriend she is. So you follow her, without complaints, even though all you want is to jump from excitement and tell her how perfectly she performed, setting the public on fire. Instead, you force yourself to stay still and calm down, laying with the others on the couch as you watch them change into normal clothes and relax.

The cafe’s atmosphere is cozy and calm, a much-needed contrast for the girls after a whole morning of practicing at the company. The place’s barely occupied— lunch break is nearly over for most of the workers— and the only sounds that can be heard are the wind’s peaceful breeze and the girl’s voices, engaged in a nonchalant gossip.

“I’m so hungry.” Winter complains, resting her head on Karina’s shoulder. You all chuckle at the sight; she’s too cute, even when she’s whiny.

“Me too.” You nod, and reach out for your girlfriend’s arm, tugging it slightly to steal her attention from Ning’s excited storytelling. It takes a few moments, but she finally hums, acknowledging you. “Love, do you think the food will take long? I need to use the restroom, but I’ll wait if it’s coming soon.”

Karina frowns, looking behind you for a few seconds. After examining the balcony, she seems to think otherwise. “It might take quite a while, still. We’ve ordered a lot, and we just got here, too. You’re safe to go.”

You nod as you get up and excuse yourself, leaving the girls to their own conversations. Their reserved table, set in a pretty well-hidden corner of the cafe, is the reason you’re able to observe their faces from afar, once you make your way back from the stalls. None of them notice your arrival, too engrossed in their conversation to pay attention to your frame.

Giselle, Winter, and Ningning’s faces are uneasy as they listen to Karina’s rambling. Their fingers twitch on the table, and they shake their heads every once in a while, leaving you to wonder what’s gotten them so serious. Trying to understand the matter, you frown behind their backs, approaching the group in slow, unhurried steps.

“… She’s constantly all over me, too. I swear I don’t even have time to breathe without her on my skin, as if she has nothing else to do. It’s so fucking annoying, really. Like, you remember, right? And there was that time when we were all at the park and Y/n was just insufferab—.”

You decide not to eavesdrop on the rest of your girlfriend’s conversation. Instead, you focus on keeping your steps as light as you can, once you turn around and nearly run back to the restroom, ignoring the heavy pitch just forming in your stomach.

You only allow yourself to relax once you reassure your mind that none of them were aware of you listening to Karina’s harsh, hurtful words.

Instead, your hands go to your face, and you try to focus and take deep breaths to prevent the tears from coming. The moment they start, you know it’ll take long to stop. It was one of the things Karina always teased you about: how you’ve always been such a crybaby, drowning yourself in tears for absolutely anything.

Oh, Karina… how could she speak such things about you? You’ve always put on so much effort to be the best, supportive girlfriend you could, with extra care to respect your girlfriend’s boundaries and still express how much you loved her.

It hurt to know she found you annoying and clingy, specially since all you’ve ever meant was to reassure her of your love. Allowing your body to sink into the restroom’s floor, you reach to the ground, hugging your knees in hopes to feel some comfort.

Flashes pass through your mind like rockets, analyzing every single moment you’ve ever spent with Karina. Even if it was the last thing you wanted to do, your mind doesn’t seem to give you any relief, overthinking about each one of her touches, phrases, and actions towards you. Did she even love you? What was she doing with you, then, if she found your presence to be so suffocating? What have you done wrong?

Was your whole existence the problem? The way you acted, your bubbly personality…

The questions, now clearly etched on your brain, did nothing but deepen the lump in your throat, one that left saliva building up in your mouth, making it impossible to swallow. Even the simplest actions were difficult to be executed, just like it was when you were away from your girlfriend for too long.

Despite all, you couldn’t help but let a light chuckle, forcing yourself to get up and wash your face in the sink. You feel like you’re going to collapse if you stay in the cafe. No, that won’t do— you have to go home. Even if it means facing chaos herself.

And her friends, too. They must’ve been aware of Karina’s feelings towards you all along, yet they still let you smile and be all over like a fucking idiot.

You look up, trying not to ruin your mascara and risk having any of them finding out what you’ve just heard. Without rush, you force yourself to even your breathing, inhaling and exhaling in slow movements, focusing on your body’s movements instead of giving in to desperation.

You feel like you’re at the bottom pit, and it fucking sucked.

After minutes of calming yourself down, you dried the remaining tears and got up, sighing as you excited the bathroom. Your hands trailed the walls as you walked without rush, looking for something, anything to provide some strength. Eventually, the walls of the hallway gave way to the open area of the tables, making you gulp. Your legs were wobbly, and you felt too weak, almost as if you were going to pass out at any given moment. Your usual confidence was all gone, and you weren’t at all sure you’d manage to speak to them without stuttering or crying.

“Thank fucking God, Y/n. We thought you got kidnapped or something.” Winter was the first to say, giggling. Giselle and Ningning smiled too, mumbling how you must’ve gotten lost or thrown in a portal to another dimension, perhaps.

Karina nods. “You really took too long out there, Y/n. I almost went looking for you.” Even though her tone is light, your girlfriend’s smile fades once she takes a proper look at your face.

You try your best to smile back at her, hands going unconsciously to your arms, scratching them nervously. You’ve always liked to be the center of their attention; the little moments where they’d ask you for an opinion or actively listen to your rambling… you thrived on them. It felt like they were spoiling you, giving up one of the things they cherished the most to focus on you: their time. Even if just for a few seconds, the feeling of being observed by them brought you a strange feeling of being fulfilled, of being someone important.

“I actually need to go, now.” You mutter, grabbing your stuff whilst refusing to meet your girlfriend’s piercing gaze.

Karina’s already aware something is wrong, though. She knows your body, your expressions, your mannerisms… she’s more than capable of telling when you’re off, much to your discomfort.

“Is everything ok? What happened?” Her hands grab a hold of your elbow, and you nearly joint, throwing your phone and sweater in your purse as fast as you can, to escape from her fingers on you. Her touch hurts, electrocuting your skin as if she were a storm set on a windy, loud night. You couldn’t stand it.

“It’s just a family emergency, don’t worry.” You take a step back, with your wallet in hands to pay for your drink. Bowing slightly to acknowledge the pain you were bringing onto the conversation, you add. “Please keep up with your lunch. I’ll make sure to update you about it soon.”

Karina’s hands rest on top of yours, taking the card from between your fingers and back to the wallet.

“It’s ok, I’ll pay.” Her voice, calm and soothing, is much different from her previous, livid tone. She gives your hand a squeeze, getting up herself. “Do you want me to go with you? Manager unnie will understand.”

The girls nod, their faces also filled with worry. However, you dismiss your girlfriend, diverting your gaze to the ground as you inhale deeply. You’re unable to face her by any given means; you’d fall apart in front of them if you did as such. In fact, you find yourself unable to face any of them. They’ve made a fool out of you for too long, and that single thought is enough for bile to rest in your throat, threatening to spill. You can’t deal with that, not at the moment.

“I mean it: I’m sure I can handle it.” Your muscles tense, and you don’t even notice your body’s backward steps. It was clear you wanted to leave, which was mostly the reason they didn’t pressure further, watching as you hurriedly made our way out.

Karina’s eyes were the most trained, her mind racing with thoughts that left her wondering what had gotten you so shaken, visibly out of place. Clueless, she stared at your frame until you’ve reached the door. Only then, you returned her stare.

The watery look in your eyes is more than enough to make her shiver, gripping her chest to get rid of the heaviness that had installed in her heart. Everything was fine, Karina told herself. You’d soon deal with your incident, and be back by her side as fast as you could, as always.

With that in mind, she relaxes, turning her attention back to her friends’ conversation.

Karina doesn’t understand why your distance hurts so much. She should’ve been relieved: you’ve stopped spamming her phone with updates of your day, no longer sending thousands of pictures and videos of things that, according to you, reminded you of herself. She doesn’t have to deal with your constant neediness, nor does she have to reassure you that you were loved, and she missed you. It’s all she’s ever wanted— to not be disturbed at all, being able to focus on work and just have a good time, overall.

Instead, she feels awful; as if something’s missing. Everything feels wrong; she’s unable to concentrate at all, her skin itches and her thoughts constantly linger on you, wondering.

“Hey, Jimin unnie.” Ning looks up to you from the ground, stretching herself out on the floor. “Is Y/n coming soon? She always brings the best snacks.” Resting on the couch, Karina lets out a long sigh, looking at the clock displayed above the dance room’s door.

“She’s not stopping by to watch us today.” The oldest explains, shrugging. She tries as hard as she can not to sound affected by it. “It’s Nutcracker season. She’s rehearsing until late, most likely.”

“Most likely? Haven’t you talked to her today to know that?”

Giselle’s sharp tone hurt, specially since Karina’s phone was currently burning in her pocket, with a lot of unread messages she had sent you. Karina twists her fingers to prevent herself from putting her hands on her face, in a tired manner. “No, I haven’t. Like I said, she’s busy. We haven’t talked much since this morning.”

“Wow, this is serious, then.” Giselle’s lips turn into a smirk, as she brushes the sweat out of her face. “Y/n’s never missed a pre-comeback rehearsal of ours. Like, literally never. Not even if she had her own rehearsals to attend. Have you ever attended any of hers, by the way?”

Karina grits her teeth. She knows Giselle means well: she’s friends with you, and is simply curious. Knowing that doesn’t keep the girl from wanting to punch the Uchinaga for annoying her, though. With the engines running inside her head, Karina tries her best to focus on exhausting her body, in hopes of having the burning sensation ease her troubled mind. Still, she couldn’t help but constantly wonder what was going on in with you. Why were you suddenly so distant?

The questions clouded her head, making it difficult to focus on the choreography they were learning. It seems like she wasn’t making up stuff, after all: Giselle’s questions made it clear you were different, weirdly so.

Nodding, Karina added, “Yeah. It’s not like herself at all.”

Giselle meant to continue the conversation, but the dark look Karina shoots her is enough to get the Uchinaga to gulp, focusing back on her movements, along with the melody of their upcoming song. It was none of her business, anyway.

Once the girls make their way back to the dorms, Karina decides she’s had enough of whatever you were intending to do. She’d stop by and confront you, finally. It frustrated her, having to guess your feelings, specially since you’ve been dating for quite a while — now. But she’d do it, if you were so willing to be petty. She’d be the one to reach out first.

“Thank you, girls. I’ll see you in a bit. I won’t be late, promise.” Karina’s words reverberate through the car, as she waves goodbye to her friends.

Her three bandmates were, as always, more than quick to encourage her to reach out to you, after the distance between you lingered for weeks. Even though it would cost her hours she should be spending in the recording room, they’ve immediately told Karina to talk to you, urging to have both of you in good terms once again.

Ever since you’ve become a shell of the caring, sweet girlfriend you once were, Karina’s been jittery; she was easily irritated and often picked arguments over the simplest things. It was clear the situation was taking a toll on her, in ways she’d never admit. Karina would die before confessing how much she missed your voice, your care, your touches. She’d never admit it. After all, she did constantly complain about how clingy and annoying you were— it was only fair she lived up to her words.

With a sigh, the girl enters your Dance Studio, tugging at the tiny Christmas decorations that hang through the reception area, the doors, and the walls. She realizes she’s never actually been inside the massive building for more than three, maybe four times. Usually, Karina would just wait for you by the car, never bothering to get to know the place you spent the majority of your time, whenever you weren’t attending your classes. Karina mutters a curse under her breath, silently punishing herself for not paying enough attention to you, as she smiles at the receptionist and asks about your location.

“Second four, third door on the left. She’s booked up a private room for a few hours, but they should be near the end, now.” The woman told her, as Karina bowed her in recognition, making her way towards the elevator.

Once she’s walking through the hallways, a big, colored paper with numerous names catches her eyes, standing out in the sea of decorations and adornments. It’s a casting list, and Karina’s chest fills with pride as she reads your name: first in line, cast as the lead dancer. She vaguely remembers of one of your rambles months prior, the low tone of your voice exposing how ashamed you were to confess about your nervousness to audition. At that time, Karina had been so focused on her own stuff she barely gave your topics any attention at all, dismissing them with a few hums until you focused on her rants again.

Now, Karina desperately wished she had paid you more attention. She urged to be active in your life: to know what was happening in your routine, your troubles and whatever was making you happy at the moment. Filled with guilt, the dark-haired girl slides the door slowly, delighting herself in the sight of your perfectly arranged frame, stretching yourself by the bars.

“You haven’t told me you got casted as Clara.” She says, quietly, staring at how precise and eloquent your moves are, even though the music that comes from your phone is faint, nearly inaudible.

You take a look at your girlfriend through the mirrors, trying your best to look indifferent. In reality, the first thought you’ve had as soon as you got cast as the lead dancer for the company’s Winter play was to call her, screaming in excitement for accomplishing something you’ve wanted for so long. But her words were still livid on your mind—which was why you simply shrug, going on with your barre routine, back straightened and arms arched. Once again, it was difficult to act like her stare didn’t burn, consuming you completely, but you reverberated through it.

“It’s not that big of a deal. I only got it because Seowon unnie is injured, anyway. She didn’t even audition.”

“I see.” Karina says. Her eyes examine your body so intensely you gulp, reaching out for your water bottle. She follows your every move, like a fox out for a hunt. “Do you want to have lunch? We can finally have some time for us, then. You’ve been so busy.” Her tone is sarcastic, and you know she’s fully aware of the distance you’ve been putting on between them. Her message is clear: she’s done playing and waiting for you to gather your thoughts and come back to her on your own, as you’d usually do whenever you argued.

Only you weren’t backing up or apologizing, this time.

“I can’t put on weight. I have fittings in 3 days.” Karina frowns, approaching until you were unable to continue your moves.

She looks at your body, eyes searching for any flaws with such hunger, you instantly feel heat invading your cheeks.

“You’re good.” Leaving no space for denial, she turns around and holds the door open, motioning for you to go first. “Now, let’s have lunch.”

“Is it something with your family?” Karina is the first to break the awkward silence that lingers on the lunch table, in hopes to stir anything inside you to make you stop playing with your salad and look at her face. It works: you look up, genuinely confused.

“What? No, they’re good.” You tuck your hair behind your ears, clearly not enjoying the date. If anything, your moves are mechanic, hesitant.

If it were any other day, you’d be talking until you had to grasp for air, filling Karina in every detail of your life for the second or third time, probably. She thinks she’ll go insane at the sight of you, sitting idle on the desk, with big, sad eyes.

“Good. It’s good they’re all well and healthy.” She says, then adds, lifting her brows. Even though she tries not to express how irritated she is by the situation, Karina’s not good at hiding her expressions. “What is wrong? You’re clearly different, but keep acting petty and not telling me what it is.”

Your mouth opens in a perfect “O” as the words leave your girlfriend’s mouth. Does she think you’re that immature? She must simply not care about her own words, then. You’re sure of it. “I’m not fucking petty.”

Karina stares at your arms, tightly crossed against your chest, and at your pout. She almost laughs, thinking about how adorable the sight is, but the fire in your eyes reminds her of the current situation. She leans back on the chair, motioning for you to do something. Anything.

“Talk, then.”

She infuriates you. Just sitting in front of you, so sure she’s done nothing wrong, as if you’re the only one to blame.

“You’re really clueless, aren’t you?” It takes some deep breaths to not point a finger at her, so you just let out a dry laugh. “I’m just giving you what you want.”

“What do you mean by that?” Once again, she looks genuinely confused. Before you get to answer, thought, Karina’s phone rings. She picks up immediately, not at all pleased with how you rolled your eyes at the interruption. It’s Aeri, calling to say Bada had already arrived, and she’s the only one missing for them to start cleaning the choreo.

You get up before she has the chance to say anything, with a fake smile as you wait for her to call the waiter and pay for your date.

“I have to go, too.” You say, walking up slightly faster than her. When it’s time for you to actually part ways, though, you stop, unsure of what to do. You would rather not touch her; it still hurts, and part of you was indeed petty enough to deprive her of your touch, after her complaints.

Karina beats you to it, however. Before you register, she seals your lips in a delicate kiss, one you can’t help but melt on.

“See you soon, Y/n. I love you.” She says, before entering her company’s car and being driven away. She doesn’t wait for you to acknowledge the situation, and you’re happy for that.

Huffing in frustration, you make your way back towards your studio, in hopes to keep your strained relationship out of your mind, even if just for a few hours.

As much as Karina thinks it through, she can’t fantom where she’s gone wrong. You’ve just distanced yourself so suddenly, and it has left a hole in her heart, along with a lingering itch on her skin that makes her want to scratch her arms until they’re red and sore. She’s busy, and she knows you’re busy, too, but she’s had enough of this. She misses you, and she hates herself for complaining about how you’ve always shown her nothing but love. She took it for granted before, but she won’t anymore.

Her palms are slippery as she knocks on the dressing room’s door, not waiting much until she’s given permission to enter. She’s not surprised to find you alone— your friends told her you were usually the last one to change into normal clothes, as crowded spaces made you breathless and anxious. She is, though, surprised to find you looking down at your hands, so small and filled with sorrow, despite having performed flawlessly not even an hour ago.

You’re surrounded by stuffed animals, letters, and gifts from your friends and family, yet it still seems so… empty. And you know what’s lacking.

The girl standing by the door knows it, too.

“You looked beautiful.” Karina says, carefully placing the huge bouquet she bought you on the empty part of the table, the one your hands rest. “As always. My beauty.”

You nod, gripping your chair as you try to ground yourself. Even your body navigated towards her; it was hard not to run into her arms and forget how hurt you were.

“I didn’t think you’d come.” You truly didn’t, even though you had sent invites to her and the girls, they were always so busy— they’ve never attended, before.

It’s Karina’s turn to be hesitant — now. Trapping her hands in her pockets, she adds. “I don’t want to be absent from your life anymore.” The statement, all you’ve wanted to hear for so, so long, makes your heart nearly joint. You try to speak, but she’s still immersed in her words. “I miss you. And I have no fucking clue of why you’ve been so distant lately, but I miss your laugh, your touches—fuck, I miss everything about you. I know I’ve been so fucking selfish, and I’ve never realized you were the only one making efforts for us for so long.” You’re still looking at her through the mirror when she places her head on your shoulders, hands playing with your leotard’s thin strap to have something to occupy herself with. “I’m sorry.”

You gulp, looking at the beautiful flowers she got you. Being without Karina had turned you into a mess, but you still feel just as uneasy in her presence. No matter how much you try, you can’t seem to forget her words. How irritated she sounded, at the time, as if you were such a bother.

Your girlfriend was still waiting for her answer, so you take some flowers into your hands, as you ask, hesitant. “Don’t I suffocate you? I’m too much, I guess.”

Karina shakes her head. “Of course not. Where’d you get that from?” Her hands move to your waist, subtly, her light fingers barely noticeable as they brush your covered skin.

“You can stop lying, you know. Just tell me if you do.” Your voice cracks, and it’s enough for Karina to realize how hurt you truly were, by the affirmation.

It comes to her, then, that you weren’t being petty, all over the past weeks. You were just hurt, and needed some time. She feels guilty for being the reason for such feelings.

Hugging you with a strong grip, she decides to be honest. “There was a time… where I felt like it, for a bit. I was overworked, and annoyed at everything. But then you vanished, and… it felt like there was something missing, I guess.”

Her face is all red from the confession, making you smile. It’s a rare occurrence, for Karina to talk about her feelings, and even more for her to confess anything. It’s the real proof she missed you; the girl’s willingness to be vulnerable, even if for a small moment.

You missed her so, so much. As always you’re the first to give in, no longer fighting the rational part of your brain that screamed for you to distance yourself and leave Karina.

“Let’s go home, ‘Jiminie.” You murmur, humming as you feel her hands all over your body, groping and twisting your skin, touch starved for anything you could provide. You whine, looking at her through her lashes. In this love bubble, your drunken state is enough for Karina to kiss you, her sweet taste marked with hunger.

“I don’t want to wait, though. I’ve missed you for too long.” She looks at you dead serious, adding, “Far too long.”

You nod, a moan escaping your mouth when Karina pushes all the makeup and the gifts onto the ground, her lithe hands gripping your thighs and urging you up on the vanity with ease. Once again, her fingers try to get through your leotard, huffing when she’s met with tights instead of bare skin.

You grab her wrists, giggling at her urgent moves. “Don’t.” You warn, turning your head when Karina meets your lips for another breathless, hungry kiss. Her mouth meets the corner of yours, instead. You’d forgotten how much you loved to tease her. “I have to perform tomorrow, and for weeks after that. Don’t ruin them.”

She retreats completely, then. Stepping back, she places her hands up, following your demands. Her body language is relaxed, but her voice is strained, stating how she truly feels. “You better take them off — now. And give me a show.”

You roll your eyes at the lack of sweetness, but another sharp look from Karina and you’re quick to do as told. Her attention is solely on you, admiring your precise moves. You’re just as graceful and beautiful as when you went on stage, and Karina drinks on the vision.

Without rush, you unbutton your costume until it falls from your body, lifting yourself up to let the fabric dangle on the ground. Your body is exposed to your girlfriend’s touch. You’re drenched, desperate to have her after so long apart. You can feel the heat on your skin, as you reach out to have her close once again. It lingers, only deepening with the hungry, messy kiss you and Karina share. Her hands meet your neck, and you gasp the moment you feel her fingers blocking your airways. The dizziness, along with her wet mouth on your chin, then marking your neck as she has her share of you, just as starved. You’re too light-headed to complain about the bruises, being so quick to turn into a moaning, breathless mess.

“I missed you t-too much.” You murmur, drawing your head back as she licks her way down on your body. You watch, starstruck, as she falls down on her knees, hands spreading your thighs with ease.

You take a hold of her long, dark hair, but don’t motion to force your girlfriend’s face into your cunt— you know better than that. Instead, you wait, eagerly, as she parts your folds. Her other hand comes to collect your juices, proving on your sweetness.

“I’m obsessed with you.” She mutters, breath hot on your clothed cunt. Her eyes meet yours, and she’s just as breathless. “Fucking obsessed. Do you understand? This is all mine.”

Without a warning, she licks a big stripe of your pussy, her nose bumping onto your clit without much pressure. The action, though not rough, is more than enough to have lewd, loud sounds come out of your mouth. The only thing on your mind is your girlfriend. Her touches and the pleasure she was always so eager to give you.

“I’ll worship you because you’re mine.”

Perhaps your relationship was built on empty promises. But as for the moment, the only thing that matters is Karina’s hot, warm breath on your skin, and how right it feels.

#sol writes #sol’s works #yoo jimin x reader #yoo jimin smut #karina aespa smut #karina x reader #karina smut #karina aespa #aespa x fem reader #aespa smut #aespa x reader #aespa x yn #aespa x you #kpop smut #kpop x y/n #kpop x reader

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incognit0slut · 4 months

Text

Better for you

Spencer spends the change of year with a new resolution as he starts looking at his rival differently.

(THIS CAN BE READ AS A STANDALONE BUT IS TECHNICALLY A THIRD PART FOR LOSE CONTROL AND THE LAST LAUGH)

words: 4.6k Category: fluff (surprisingly this is not my usual NSFW work) warnings: kissing, suggestive content a/n: I’m killing two birds with one stone here. One, I caved in and did another part for this rival couple. And two, I wrote this as a participation in @imagining-in-the-margins office party writing challenge🥳 Here are the prompts: 1. The team hardly believes it when Character A agrees to dance with B. 2. “I just never saw you as a... party type of person."

WAS A PARTY SUPPOSED TO BE THIS BORING? A subtle sigh escaped her lips as she glanced around the backyard. When Rossi invited the team to gather around at his house in celebration of the new year, everybody was on board.

"Who would say no to a David Rossi party?" JJ had said, which led her to bring her family along the occasion. Even Simmons brought his wife and five little kids. And now Rossi’s place never looked so alive with this many people, it seemed that everyone was present at this joyful soirée.

Everyone but one person, that is.

She turned her attention back to the drink in her hand, leaning against the open bar Rossi had set up, her mind drifting towards a certain man. It wasn't like she was keeping tabs on him. Really, she wasn't. It just happened that his absence became surprisingly noticeable when he decided to take some time off work to visit his mom, even days before Christmas break.

How long had it been since the last time she saw him? Two weeks? Three? It seemed like a considerable amount of time had passed since she saw was forced to work with him, which happened during the case in a remote town. And despite successfully apprehending the Unsub days later, her resistance to temptation, unfortunately, wasn't as successful.

It was hard not to think of what happened during the travel when it kept playing in her mind like a broken record. It was as if the memories were engraved in her brain—his slick, sweaty body pressing against hers; his soft lips caressing her skin; his large hands roaming her curves, traveling to places that had her hot and wet—

What the hell was wrong with her?

She took a sip of her drink—or more like chugging it down—trying to test if the burning sensation could wash away her filthy mind.

"Whoa," a sudden voice broke through her haze and she looked up to find Luke standing close to her. "Easy there."

His easygoing grin met her gaze as he gestured toward her almost empty glass. She shrugged, aiming the glass toward him in a mock toast. "Just trying to enjoy the party."

"Yeah?" He chuckled, leaning against the bar.

She shot him a sideways glance. "What's it to you, Alvez?"

His grin widened. "Well, when someone's drinking like they're on a mission, it catches my attention. Everything okay?"

She hesitated for a moment before responding, her tone calm. "I'm just getting into the party spirit, you know?"

Luke raised an eyebrow, his playful demeanor unwavering. "Is that so? Or are you trying to drown out some thoughts?"

She scoffed. "Thoughts? What thoughts?"

"The kind that makes you chug down your drink."

"You're imagining things. I'm simply enjoying this..." Her eyes scanned the party, trying to find a word describing the ongoing festive. "...ambiance."

"Alone by the table full of alcohol?"

"Well, someone's got to keep an eye on these drinks from disappearing too quickly."

"Hmm," He responded. "It kind of seems like you're waiting for someone to join the party."

Her cheeks warmed slightly, and she scoffed again. "I know who you're referring to, and no, I am not waiting for anyone."

He leaned in, the mischief in his eyes unwavering. "So, you're telling me that if Reid walked in right now, you wouldn't do a happy dance?"

"Please, there would be no happy dance," she said, rolling her eyes. "Just a casual acknowledgment, maybe."

"Casual acknowledgment? You're going with that?" His grin widened, his teasing persistence unyielding. "There's nothing casual about you two."

"If you mean hating each other's gut, then sure, there is nothing casual about Reid and me."

"He doesn't hate you, you know." She gave him a deadpanned look, her skepticism evident in her arched brow. Luke laughed. "Fine, he disliked the idea of having another prodigy on the team. When he got out of prison, he felt like you were his replacement."

She frowned. "I kind of was. Emily wanted someone to fill in for his absence while he was away."

Luke raised an eyebrow, his expression turning thoughtful. "True, but I think you're starting to grow on him." She shook her head, trying to brush off the comment. "I'm serious, I think you made an impression."

Her skepticism lingered as she fully turned towards him, pointing a finger at him. "So you’re telling me every time he tried to pick a fight he was actually impressed by my intelligence?"

"Well, Reid's got this... unique way of expressing himself, but trust me, he respects you."

She raised an eyebrow. "Now you're just pushing it."

"There's got to be something more than what you're letting on. He's not exactly subtle, you know."

She leaned back slightly, trying to maintain composure. "You're reading too much into it. Reid and I have..." a complicated dynamic between coworkers who hate each other but had sex twice—well, three, including that one time in the shower. "...a professional relationship," she decided to say.

His grin widened. "Professional? I've seen the way you two spar during cases."

She huffed. "It's just our way of solving problems. It doesn't mean anything more."

Luke's expression turned thoughtful. "I've worked with him for a while, and he usually doesn't go back and forth with people in smart talk. There must be something about you that intrigues him."

"Or irritates him," she added dryly. "You're giving him too much credit."

"Maybe," he admitted with a laugh. "But I don’t know, he might surprise you one of these days."

She shot him a skeptical glance. "I highly doubt that."

"Yeah?" He suddenly looked past her, a sly grin forming. "Then maybe should find out for yourself."

Confused, she turned around to see what had caught his attention…. And time seemed to slow as her eyes widened in surprise when she spotted Spencer entering the party, a casual smile on his face as he greeted everyone. For a moment, their eyes locked, and despite her attempts to remain nonchalant, a subtle flutter danced in her chest.

She quickly looked away, her attempt to maintain composure falling apart.

"See what I mean?" Luke's voice broke through her thoughts.

She rolled her eyes, trying to deflect. "It's just a party, people look at each other. There's nothing special."

He raised an eyebrow and responded with a hint of sarcasm. “Sure."

"I'm serious. Stop reading into it."

"Alright, I won't."

That only annoyed her even more. She took a deep breath, attempting to regain control of the situation. "You're insufferable."

"What? I believe you," he replied. "I mean, nothing could've happened between two people who were locked together and then forced to share a room, right?"

She shot him a glare, but before she could say anything, she felt a presence coming up behind her. A sudden chill ran down her spine as she caught a whiff of scent she was accustomed to by now, something woody and fresh with a subtle hint of sweetness.

"Reid," Luke greeted as he gave her a side glance before moving towards Spencer, casually dropping an arm around his shoulders. "It's good to see you. How's your mom?"

Spencer's eyes met hers briefly before responding to Luke, "She's doing well, thanks."

“Good to hear.” Luke nodded his head towards her. "Y/n here was just telling me how much she missed you during the holidays."

Suppressing a groan, she shot him a warning look. Spencer, however, responded with a small smile. "You did?"

Her cheeks warmed slightly, caught off guard by his direct question. She feigned nonchalance, offering a casual shrug. "Please, I was just mourning the lack of someone to challenge my wisdom."

Luke chuckled and gave her one last pointed look before excusing himself with a pretense of Rossi calling him somewhere from the crowd. Her eyes narrowed on his back as he walked away, shaking her head in disbelief. "That man coming close to being second place on my hate list."

"I take it I'm still on your number one spot then."

She turned towards him at the sound of his voice, and now that they were alone, she finally took her time to observe him.

Her eyes scanned his clothes, taking in the details. From the carefully styled hair that hinted at the time he took to prepare, to the open dress shirt that he seemed unbothered to button all the way, exposing his long neck and the slight expanse of his chest. He looked good. He looked clean, polished, and undeniably handsome.

She blinked and cleared her throat, attempting to regain composure. "Well, you certainly took your time getting ready."

He met her gaze with a hint of amusement in his eyes, seemingly aware of her scrutinizing observation. "I believe in making a good impression," he replied, a subtle smile on his lips.

She arched an eyebrow, resisting the urge to acknowledge the effect his appearance had on her. "Trying to win over the crowd with something beyond your brain?"

"Partly," he admitted, "And partly because someone once told me that a well-dressed genius is a force to be reckoned with."

"Must have been Garcia."

He grinned. "You know her well."

She took another sip of her drink, a blend of sweet and bitter notes dancing on her tongue. Keeping her eyes on him over the rim of her glass, she observed the play of shadows on his face, accentuating the angles of his features. The ambient light from the party cast a subtle glow, and she couldn't help but notice how it highlighted the soft strands of hair that fell gracefully across his forehead.

"I'm actually surprised to see you here," she slowly remarked, her voice laced with curiosity.

"Surprised? Should I be offended?"

"I just never saw you as a... party type of person."

"I'm not," he agreed. "The only exception of social gathering I can endure is with everyone present here."

"Including me?"

“Especially you."

Her demeanor faltered for a split second, caught off guard by the unexpected turn in his tone. It wasn't the usual witty remark she anticipated. A flicker of surprise crossed her features before she could conceal it, her throat clearing as she attempted to regain control over her beating heart.

"Especially… me?" she echoed, attempting to mask the surprise in her voice.

Spencer's gaze held a warmth that felt unfamiliar, and he nodded. "It seems social events are more bearable when you're around."

She tilted her head and studied him. "You're just saying that because you have someone to pick a fight with."

"A fight?" He wondered. "Is that what we've been doing?"

"It's what we've always been doing."

"Not for the past few weeks, we haven't."

She knew what he was referring to. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of indulging in a conversation about their sexual escapades, she instead responded with, "Well, you haven't, I'm still trying to play my part here."

He chuckled softly, the sound resonating in the quiet space between them. "And what part would that be?"

"The one where I constantly question the liability of your knowledge, of course."

Spencer's smile widened, the lines of his face softening. "Maybe," he began, his voice low, "We can explore different roles that don't involve any fighting."

She raised an eyebrow. "Are you suggesting a truce, Dr. Reid?"

"More like a change of tactics, Dr. L/n," he replied, gently taking the glass from her hand and placing it by the bar.

Her frown deepened, uncertainty in her eyes. "What are you doing?"

He nodded toward the center of the backyard where most of their team members filled the space of the party. "Dance with me."

She gazed towards the dance floor, then back at him, and her brows furrowed. That did not sound like the Spencer she knew, heck, she wasn't sure she had ever seen him dance before. Her eyes narrowed further when he gave her a grin.

"Come on, it's just a dance. It won't kill you," he urged, extending a hand towards her.

She eyed his outstretched hand with mock skepticism. "Are you implying that dancing with you is some kind of survival?"

Spencer grinned. "Considering the number of times you've survived my intellect, this should be a walk in the park."

She rolled her eyes. "Intellect, yes. Dancing? I'll take my chances."

"Are you afraid you'll step on my toes?" he teased.

"More like I'm afraid you'll step on mine," she shot back.

Spencer chuckled. "Just one dance, and if you don't enjoy it, you can revert to questioning the liability of my knowledge."

Her eyes drifted between his outstretched hand and his gaze, a silent contemplation unfolding within her. She knew that if she agreed to this, there was no turning back. Was it a wise decision? Probably not. But a small, rebellious part of her was curious to see how the night would unfold.

Spencer watched her with a patient expression, his hand still extended. The music continued to play, a steady beat that seemed to echo the pulse of the night, and after a moment's hesitation, she sighed in mock exasperation.

"Fine," she said, finally placing her hand in his, "But I reserve the right to make sarcastic remarks about your dance moves later."

"Deal," he agreed, leading her onto the dance floor with a grin.

She could feel everyone's scrutiny on them as he pulled her onto the dance floor, her breath hitching when he grabbed her other hand and placed her arms around his neck before snaking his arms around her waist.

"Everyone's watching us, aren't they?" she asked as they started to move to the soft beat of the music.

Spencer's gaze held a mischievous glint as he twirled her around, navigating the dance floor with surprising grace. "Let them watch," he replied, his voice low, sending a shiver down her spine. "It's just a dance, after all."

"You don't strike me as the 'just a dance' kind of person." She arched an eyebrow, unable to shake off the sense that there was more to this move than met the eye. "You don't even strike me as someone who even knows how to dance."

He shrugged. "Dancing is easy. All you have to do is move in circles and hold on to your partner."

He proved his point by pulling her further into his arms, and she couldn't help but notice the contrast in their heights. His broad chest pressed against her, the softness of his abdomen against her stomach, while his arms securely wrapped around her body.

Her breath caught for a moment, her gaze instinctively locking with his. The initial awkwardness transformed into a surprising ease, and she reciprocated the movements with a newfound confidence. The subtle sways and turns took on a rhythm of their own, syncing perfectly with the music that enveloped them.

"See?" he whispered, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down her spine. "Easy."

They continued to move to the rhythm, and she couldn't help but notice the intensity in his gaze. The world around them seemed to blur, and for a moment, she actually enjoyed being held close to him.

But before she could fully relax in his arms, JJ appeared on the dance floor, hand in hand with her husband Will. The look of disbelief in their friend's eyes was unmistakable as the couple approached them while being tangled in their own dance.

"Are my eyes deceiving me," JJ teased, a playful smile dancing on her lips. "Or are you two getting along quite well?"

She rolled her eyes, attempting to maintain a casual facade. "It's just a dance. Don't read too much into it."

JJ's grin widened as she exchanged a knowing look with Will. "I didn't think I'd see the day when you and Reid would willingly share the dance floor."

She shot a glance at Spencer, and there was a momentary flicker of something in his eyes—was it surprise? amusement? She couldn't quite place it. Collecting herself, she responded with a mock grimace, "He forced me into it."

Spencer's expression turned playful. "I have a way of convincing people to do things they didn't know they wanted to do."

"You mean manipulate."

He chuckled. "Persuade, Y/n. It's all about perspective."

From the corner of her eyes, she saw JJ and Will exchanging another pointed look. "Either way, you both look like you're having a good time."

"And you both look good together," Will added.

"Thank you."

"We're not together."

They both looked at each other while JJ raised an eyebrow, her grin widening. "Yet here you are. Spence, you might have just discovered a hidden talent—getting Y/n to dance."

She let out a sigh. "Don't encourage him."

Spencer leaned in, his tone low. "You're just mad because you're enjoying this."

She narrowed her eyes. "Let's not get carried away."

"Come on, just admit it," The corners of his lips lifted in a playful smirk. "You're having more fun than you expected."

"Fun?" She scoffed, attempting to deflect the growing warmth in her cheeks. "I wouldn't call this fun. It's just an unfortunate consequence of being at a party."

"Yet you can't deny that you're not entirely opposed to the idea."

She shot him a glare. "You're dangerously close to overestimating your influence."

"Or maybe you're underestimating your willingness to enjoy the moment."

She shook her head, turning towards JJ. "Can you believe him—"

She stopped when she realized they had been left alone for a while, noticing JJ and Will were already at the other side of the dance floor. However as her eyes scanned around them, the scrutiny of the others didn't go unnoticed by her. She fixed her gaze back on Spencer.

"We must be such a sight to see," she remarked. "I bet they're starting some rumors about us."

He raised his eyebrows. "You think they haven't already?"

She sighed, acknowledging his words. "Fair point."

"What do you think they're saying about us?"

She considered for a moment. "That we secretly don't hate each other," she responded after contemplating her answer. "I think they might be disappointed when they realize the truth."

His arms instinctively tightened around her waist. "And what's the truth?"

She studied him, her heart suddenly beating fast. Weeks ago, she would have answered the question with certainty, stating that they were nothing more than coworkers who were both very stubborn. But as she felt his eyes watching her intently, she wasn't so sure anymore.

"The truth?" she echoed, her voice a little softer than she intended. "I don't know, Reid. What is our truth?"

He held her gaze, and for a moment, she was hypnotized by the look in his eyes. "Well, the part where we secretly don't hate each other is true, for me at least."

Her breath caught as she absorbed his words.

“…you don't hate me?"

"Hate is a very strong word." Spencer leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. "Hate is often fueled by fear or misunderstanding. It's a complex emotion rooted in our perceptions and experiences. So, in a way, hate is a reflection of the mind rather than a true evaluation of a person."

She couldn't help but let out a disbelieving laugh. "Did you just use psychology to explain why you don't hate me?"

"Considering our line of work, it seemed appropriate."

She shook her head in amusement. "Only you would analyze hate in the middle of a dance."

Spencer continued, "Well, understanding emotions is crucial in our field. And I believe there's more to us than mere hostility."

She pursed her lips together, her mind suddenly going through the times they often bickered. "I still find it hard to believe you didn't hate me the first time we met."

"Dislike would be a better way to put it. But I was at my lowest point at that time. It wasn't just you, I was angry at everyone. At the circumstances. At myself." He slightly leaned back and sighed. "And I admit, it was wrong of me to take it out on you."

Then after a moment of silence, he whispered, "I'm sorry."

She felt the warmth of his embrace, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against hers. The apology hung in the air and she found herself at a loss for words. For a fleeting moment, the walls she had built seemed to crumble, leaving her standing on the precipice of something unfamiliar.

She took a deep breath, her voice barely above a whisper, "And how do you see me now?"

Spencer's gaze held a thoughtful intensity as he considered her question. "I think you're someone who challenges me. There's a depth to you beyond the harsh glare and cold shoulder." He eased, pressing a hand on her lower back. "And, if I may say, someone who looks surprisingly stunning on the dance floor."

A blush crept over her cheeks, and she narrowed her eyes, wondering if he had another motive behind the compliment. "You're using flattery now? Are you trying to get in my pants again?"

He laughed. "Is it working?"

She rolled her eyes, suppressing a smile. "Nice try, Reid. Flattery might get you far, but not that far."

His grin widened, and he guided her through the dance floor with ease. "Well, I'll have to come up with better tactics then."

His touch, gentle and deliberate, sent a shiver down her spine as his thumb traced an almost hypnotic pattern on the small of her back through the fabric of her dress. The soft caress felt both intimate and tender, catching her off guard. "I mean it though," he said, his voice a soft murmur that resonated with honesty. "You do look beautiful tonight."

There was something in his gaze that was unfamiliar, even hearing him easily compliment her was foreign in her ears. Her confusion must have been evident on her face because he smiled at her. "What?"

She shook her head, dismissing her thoughts. "Nothing. It's just... unexpected, coming from you."

He chuckled, the sound vibrating against her as they moved in sync with the music. "It's part of my New Year's resolution."

"What? To be nicer?" She guessed. "Be a better person?"

"To be a better person for you," he corrected.

Her heartbeat picked up, and she found herself drawing closer to him, the music weaving a subtle spell around them. The warmth radiating from him, the soft glow of the string lights, and the gentle melody created an intimate atmosphere that blurred the lines between the hostility she often wore.

The distance between them diminished, and she felt the subtle shift in the air. Without registering what she was doing, her fingers came up behind his neck, softly playing with the strands of his hair. They were so soft, just like the look reflected in his eyes. Then her gaze went down to his lips; they too looked incredibly soft.

"Stop looking at me like that."

Her eyes snapped to his. "Like what?"

"Like you want to close the distance between us," he whispered, his voice a low murmur that sent a shiver down her spine. "Because I'm trying to restrain myself from doing just that."

His fingers found the small of her back, pressing gently, while hers continued their silent dance in his hair. Every touch, every movement, fueled the escalating heat between them. His proximity was intoxicating, and the magnetic pull between them was undeniable. The distance diminished further until she could feel his breath, warm and inviting, grazing against her lips.

But before she could indulge herself, Garcia's voice echoed somewhere in the crowd. "It's the final countdown, people!"

Suddenly becoming aware of their surroundings, she released her arms from around his neck and shifted her gaze elsewhere. Her eyes landed on the projector screen, previously used by the kids for a movie marathon and now it displayed the vibrant scenes of people joyously ringing in the New Year celebration.

As the digital numbers on the screen ticked down, the energy in the backyard intensified. The countdown became a collective heartbeat, a shared anticipation that echoed through the crowd.

"Ten! Nine! Eight!"

In those final moments, she stole a glance at Spencer, their eyes locking silently.

"Seven! Six! Five!"

But his stare became so intense that she quickly looked away.

"Four! Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!"

The cheers erupted, and the backyard was bathed in the glow of fireworks, the sky above adorned with bursts of color. She watched the dazzling display in awe, the explosions of light reflecting in her eyes.

Amidst the celebratory chaos, she noticed her friends wrapped in the arms of their loved ones, celebrating happily. JJ and Will shared a sweet kiss, Simmons was embraced by his family, Penelope and Luke exchanged laughter, and even Rossi, with a subtle smile, clinked glasses with Emily and Tara.

And as the colorful explosions painted the night sky, she felt a lingering gaze on her. Turning, she found Spencer watching her intently. His eyes were searching hers as if he were asking for permission to close the short distance separating them.

She knew what he meant. It was beyond asking permission to kiss her. It was a gentle plea to understand the unspoken boundaries that lingered between them. Engaging in intimacy behind closed doors was one thing, but to take that step in front of their peers meant exposing a vulnerability she had carefully guarded. Did she want to cross that line?

A part of her wavered, finding herself drawn to him—his warm brown eyes, his smile, everything about him seemed to call out to a part of her that she had kept guarded. The barriers she had meticulously built started to feel like fragile walls as everything around them started to fade, leaving only the soft glow of string lights and the distant echoes of laughter.

Oh, fuck it.

Feeling the pull of an undeniable force, she took a step closer with a small, bashful smile playing on her lips. It was all the answer he needed. Closing the distance between them, he framed her face with his large hands, his warm touch sending a shiver down her spine. Surrounded by the cheers of the crowd and the vibrant display of fireworks overhead, he finally leaned down, gently brushing his lips against hers.

Warmth spread through her body as he held her, his touch gentle yet possessive. He tipped her jaw, allowing his mouth to move along with hers. His tongue easily slipped into her as he continued to taste the subtle hint of liquor she had been drinking. Spencer was never one to drink, but he didn't mind tasting it on her. If anything, he couldn't get enough.

Her arms instinctively traveled underneath his suit jacket, seeking more of his warmth as she wrapped them around his waist. The fabric of his suit was smooth under her fingertips, and the heat of his body radiated through the layers of clothing.

The kiss deepened as he continued to explore her mouth, growing more intense with each passing second, and it wasn't until they heard someone through their haze calling out, "There are kids here!" that he finally pulled away.

He laughed, a soft, genuine sound and she couldn't help but join in. He then rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in the small space that separated them. The lingering taste of their kiss hung in the air, and for a moment, they simply stood there. The reality of the situation slowly sank in, and they exchanged a glance filled with a mix of surprise and amusement.

"I guess we got carried away," he mumbled.

"You think?" She chuckled, her fingers playing with the lapels of his suit jacket. "We should keep it PG-13 for now."

His fingers gently traced the curve of her cheek. "Does that mean we can go R-rated later?"

She let out a laugh, throwing her head back in mirth. "You're relentless."

He smiled, savoring the moment of ease between them, and he found himself captivated by the genuine joy she radiated. His gaze traveled around the backyard and noticed everyone watching them with amused grins. He leaned down and pulled her flush against him. "Everyone's watching us."

She groaned and hid her face in the crook of his neck. "I can already imagine their teasing."

There was a moment of silence before he responded, "I think it's worth it."

"What is?" she mumbled into his neck.

He pulled away and looked down at her. In a tender gesture, he brushed a strand of hair away from her face, his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary. "I can handle the constant teasing if it means I get to hold you like this."

The corners of her lips curled into a soft smile. "You're willing to endure their teasing just to hold me?"

His gaze met hers, unwavering. "More than willing."

Her gaze softened as she looked at him. She couldn't believe how this night had turned out, yet, here they were—wrapped up in a dance of their own. It was a position she would've never imagined herself in. And despite her best efforts to resist, the walls she had meticulously built were crumbling.

"Can I kiss you again?" He whispered. "I promise I'll make it family-friendly."

The corners of her lips curled as she laughed. The unexpected turn of events had brought them to a place she never anticipated, but surprisingly, it felt oddly right.

"I suppose one more won't hurt."

His smile widened, and with a hint of mischief in his eyes, he leaned in, capturing her lips in a tender kiss. "Happy New Year," he whispered against her lips.

She found herself smiling, realizing that perhaps, unexpected as it was, this change of year wasn't so bad. She closed her eyes, savoring the moment, and wondered where her life would take her this year. The path ahead seemed unclear, but one thing was certain—Spencer Reid had managed to find his way into her heart.

a/n: if you’ve followed the story since lose control, this is the ending for this short series. As much as I wanted to write smut again for the last part, the fluff was calling out to me :3

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woewriting · 5 months

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𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒 ──── wednesday addams & vampire!reader

── tags. blood mention/drinking, reader's a vampire duh, no pronouns used, thigh riding, small master x pet dynamics at the end.

── word count. 1595

a/n. first wdw in weeks, wow... just a small thing for my vampire fellas. | masterlist

Your leg bounced up and down, the almost inaudible sound of the heel of your shoes hitting the wooden floor annoying the girl sitting next to you on the bed, the movements of your legs and the way you chewed on your bottom lip enough to get her annoyed.

Closing the book, Wednesday turned to you, eyes alternating between the irritating move and your features.

“Can you stop with that infuriating sound? It’s distracting me.”

“Uh?” You look at Wednesday, eyes darting from yours to your bouncing leg in a silent answer. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t even notice it.”

“Now that you do, stop it.”

“I can’t control it.”

Wednesday took a deep breath, bringing her hand to rest on top of your knee, forcing you to stop. Somehow, your leg was still shaking under her touch and now, a heatwave spread inside your body at the sudden touch, a bright red color threatening to take over your vision, a sharp pain in your gums.

You closed your eyes, taking deep breaths and trying to take control over your instincts. But Addams being so close to you with her almost unnoticeable perfume and hand on your thigh, it was hard and any small thing coming from her was enough to get you to lose control.

“You’re starving, aren’t you?” All you could do was nod, not wanting her to see the sharp fangs that sunk on the inside of your mouth. Removing her hand from your leg, you felt a weight being placed on top of your body instead. “Open your eyes, let me take a look at them.”

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head.

“I wasn’t asking. Open them now and look at me.”

Despise the calming way she spoke, her words and demanding tone were enough to get you to do as you were told, unable to resist the smell she had; It was like a spell placed on you.

Wednesday brought her hands to your face, opening your lips to see the sharp fangs you were hiding, pressing the tip of a finger under one, a single drop of raven blood poking out of the small wound was enough to cover your lower lip with her movement.

“Wends…” You warned with a hoarse voice, controlling the impulse to lick the sweet blood off of your lip.

The dark, silky sheets under your hands ripping off around your nails, stopping you from digging the skin of her waist. Knowing Wednesday, she would definitely make you pay for a new set.

Ignoring the warning timbre in your voice, Wednesday opened her white blouse, dragging the fabric away from her shoulder area along with the strip of her bra.

“Take it.”

“No.”

“If you want to keep that snarky tongue of yours, I suggest you to stop fighting and just do as I am telling you to.”

The second you focused on the cold, pale skin, of her neck, everything around you turned red, melting as you caught the sound of her blood flowing through her body, the steady pace of her heartbeat, muffling every small sound that surrounded the both of you.

All you could hear, see and smell, came from the small girl sitting on your lap. And that was all that matters.

The red, warm, sweet blood that kept her alive. The blood of a Raven, Wednesday being the last one of her bloodline known to you.

Noticing the lack of motion coming from your frozen body, the Addams girl gently tugged you by the back of your head, bringing you closer to her.

“Take it.” She whispered; fingers lost in your hair. “It’s all yours.”

“All mine…” You replied, lost in your red reality, barely processing what left her lips, all you could hear, loud and clear, was the pumping of her jugular, the sweet blood rushing through her veins.

Leaning in, your nose brushed on the cold skin, taking a deep breath. The ghostly touch causing the other to close her eyes. You opened your mouth, enough for the tip of your tongue to touch her, a surprised sigh coming from Wednesday.

“I profoundly hate when you do that.”

“Are you sure? Because I can hear every beat of your heart.” You placed a kissed near her collarbones. “And the way your thighs are pressing against mine.” Another kiss, a little bit higher.

“Stop talking. It’s an order.”

You laughed against her, hands slowly moving from the silky sheets to her thighs. “You’re in no place to boss me around, Addams.”

“I thought you enjoyed being my little pet.”

“I enjoy more when you’re my prey.”

Looking into your eyes, Wednesday could barely see the color of it, dark red mixed with golden strings covering most of your iris, pupils dilated in a black color. The veins under your eyes, disappearing and appearing as if it was following the beat of a music, little did she know it was synchronized with her own heartbeat.

It always felt like that, to be under her spell, if felt paralyzing, something in the way Wednesday smelled and tasted like, so sweet it was like drinking honey.

For her, having your teeth sinking in her neck, poison spreading through your saliva turning the pain into pleasure in just a few seconds. She would never admit, but being your personal blood bag made the pain settle in between her thighs.

She needed you as much as you needed her.

Why else would she sit on your lap and keep you around? Allowing you to follow every single step of hers like a lost puppy, holding you on a tight leash, stopping you from biting others like a misbehaved puppy.

Gulping, she licked her lips, your eyes following every single movement of her body. She felt like an addicted waiting for the next jet of poison, it’s been days since the last time you fed on her.

“Did you drink from somebody else?” You shook your head. You tried to, actually, blood bags, human blood straight from the vein, animal blood that you captured with Eugene’s help; they all tasted like garbage. “Then why are you refusing to do as I tell you to?”

“Because I don’t want to hurt you.”

A small grin tugged on her lips. “I want you to hurt me.”

A gush of adrenaline ran in the veins under your eyes the second you heard her whisper, eyes filled with a specific glow that you almost never see in Wednesday: excitement.

The moment your fangs dug in the cold skin, a low moan escaped between Wednesday’s parted lips, the fingers in your hair pulling you impossible closer. The hot, thick red liquid filled your mouth, the iron taste almost unnoticeable, being replaced by a sweet taste that only she had.

Throwing her head back in an attempt to give you more access to her neck, she didn’t even notice that small rhythm her hips were following against your legs, rubbing herself on you. Her scent, stronger than ever, filling every centimeter of your lungs like smoke.

Moving your hands to her hips, you bruised the covered skin as you helped her steady movements. Opening her lips to take a deep breath soon became a breathless moan, your name escaping her parted lips as you drank more and more from her, the poison spreading through her veins as you lick the open wound, capturing what escaped from your hungry mouth before biting her again.

Wednesday was weak in your arms, the hot feeling in the pit of her stomach getting hotter and hotter as she rounded her hips on your leg, a wet stain on the fabric of your jeans as she came, eyes rolling to the back of her head and body falling back, being held by your hands.

Switching positions, you laid the small girl on her bed, dark silky sheets embracing her body as you laid on top of her to lick around her neck, not wasting a single drop of the precious blood that you couldn’t go without.

Kissing your way up to her face, Addams still had her eyes closed, a fainted reddish color spread on her cheeks as she came down from her high. When she opened her eyes, she was met with your golden ones, shining like a star in the night sky. She caressed your face, thumb swiping your lips to collect the thick liquid that covered them before gently sucking on them, maintaining the eye contact; a satisfied hum in her throat.

“Kiss me. I want to taste my blood on your tongue.”

As she commanded, you connected your lips together in a kiss that was soft at first, turning to bruising and desperate as her legs wrapped around your waist, pulling you in, lips wrapping around your tongue to get more of it before she breaks the kiss, hands moving to your shoulders.

“What are you doing?” You asked, confused, as she tried to push you down, but you, being stronger than her, didn’t move an inch.

“I need your tongue somewhere else, and I need it now, so be a good pet and collaborate with me.”

Wednesday was nearly screaming inside, her weak body in desperate need of you, one of the collateral damages from your poison. And the way you smelled, the way your hands touch her body, it was a lot more than just the venom that rushed in her veins, there was something else in the brownish glow that stared at you. You smiled.

“As you wish, master.”

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stubz · 4 months

Text

Injuries and a ship invasion, no one dies

"Why do they let humans take care of our younglings? If it hadn't been for the coalition then it would've been another century till they realize our existence. Their senses have dulled to the point where its laughable that they are the dominating species of their planet. And lets not forget the fact that they're at constant war with each other over the most stupidest things, color of skin, where one lives, who they love, what they believe, etc."

"Calis stop it! Your being a xenophobe. And while some of that is true you should know by now that the humans care deeply for our children."

"I am simply being concerned parent who worries for their young's safety and well-being...we are in a dangerous area right now, the middle of a war zone, and it would make me feel safer if we had some others at the care centre till reinforcements arrive."

"Trust me my brightest, the humans will do everything they can to ensure the safety of our Dali...and knowing them they'll likely surprise you and live up to their reputation."

"...fine, fine, I apologize, you are right. The humans have surprised me so far, what's one more?"

...

....

"WHERE IS DALI?! WHERE IS MY YOUNGLING CAPTAIN!"

"Calis calm down! Your arm!"

"NO! YOU DON'T GET TO TELL ME TO CALM DOWN WHEN ENEMY FORCES HAVE INVADED OUR SHIP AND NONE OF US CAN FIND OUR YOUNG!!"

"Calis, your hurt and so is your partner. Think of Gala, they need you right now."

"...Gala is hurt because they were looking for Dali. They got shot because they were heading to the centre...I have to find Dali. For Gala, Captain."

"I'm sure that Kim and Max are doing everything they can to keep them safe."

"With all do respect Captain, how could 2 unarmed humans survive what our force couldn't."

"...I don't know but its probably going to be one hell of a story we'll be telling for the ages. Now go get your arm treated. That's an order."

...

....

"WE FOUND THEM!"

"CAPTAIN WE FOUND THE YOUNGLINGS!"

"WE NEED A CRANK AND SEND EVERY AVAILABLE MEDIC!"

"oh great stars please no...nonononono DALI!" the Delzah rushed forward, breaking through the search party, only to be stopped by their captain.

"Calis...you have to let them do their job. We, we just have to hope." he could not help the hitch in his breath. Hoping, praying, that his own child was okay underneath the wreckage that was once the youngling care centre.

They fight and thrash until eventually grief overtakes them. They collapse into the captain's arms wailing.

"...what hope do I have that my child is alive under all that rubble. Captain...the only hope I have is that they died quick and that they are with the stars now..."

"Oh Calis..." he sobs. He knows it. There was hardly a chance that anyone was still alive underneath there. Only the strongest younglings who were from a strong species may survive and his child was not one of those few. They were strong but his child was like him...a runt, the joke of the family. Too small, too weak, too soft. She was surely dead...why couldn't it have been him?

"MAPA!"

"PAPA!"

One by one, children emerge from an opening made in the rubble, and at the front of them was Dali and a small feline like child.

"my glorious star" flinging themself from the Captain Calis dragged themself to meet Dali who leaped into their Mapa's arms.

The captain was not too far behind, running to his daughter and cradling her close. Words were not exchanged but Calis could feel the vibrations coming from their purrs.

"See...I told you they would be waiting..."

last to emerge from the rubble was the humans, carried out on stretchers. Only one was conscious. Glass glittered from their skin, dirt and dust blended with vibrant red blood, staining their white bandages, and a rebar was poking out of the unconscious one's side.

"You...got everyone right?"

"Yes, human Max."

"Good...that's good..." and finally did they lose consciousness.

...

....

"Apparently they covered the windows and hid the kids in the storage room, putting them to the farthest corner while they formed a human wall in front of the door.

When those quiznaking bastards couldn't break down the door they rigged the centre with explosives. Lucky for us the humans personally requested that the storage room be made durable for the equivalent of their disasters on earth so it held up decently well."

"But how did they get so injured?"

"Decently well, meaning the room wasn't completely stable. Eventually the walls started to give and the humans had to improvise by becoming the new pillars. They took shifts until they both had to hold up the weight for what the kids guess to be 3 hours...imagine holding up all of that weight until you were on your hands and knees with rebars, broken glass, and debris piercing into your body."

"...Gala said that Human Max nearly flatlined and Human Kim needed 2 liters of blood."

"You seem confused."

"...Humans are impressive but how did they do all of that? They were already injured and yet managed to hold up a collapsed ceiling for hours until help arrived, I thought they were completely average and even weaker than us."

"Apparently when their loved ones, especially children, are in danger they tap into their more primal instincts. Allowing them to withstand a shot to the side, a slab of concrete to the head, and hours of keeping a ceiling from collapsing until they know everyone is safe.

Heard a story of a human who died only after he saw his kids was safe from a fire."

"Looks like Gala was right. Humans have surprised me once again."

#humans are space oddities #humans are space orcs #humans in space #the adventures of kim and max running a space child care centre

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berzahoes · 5 months

Text

“slut!” | tom blyth

summary: in a word full of boys, tom is a gentleman.

an: takes place before filming billy the kid

warnings: mean names hence the title also if you care, reader is the same age as tom lol

“so keep your boyfriends hidden because y/n is newly single!”

“how many boyfriends has she had in the last four years?”

“clearly she’s the problem if she can’t keep a boyfriend.”

you heard it all. the names people called you, the headlines, news reports. it was always the same. people would rather shame you for your love life than be quiet. in the past you did joke that you went on many dates, clearly the media didn’t care if you were joking or not.

your manager had even banned you from looking at the really negative comments on your phone. twitter was having a field day with your love life.

“slut!” was the phrase often directed towards you. while your loyal fans defend you, you could still see all the hurtful things people said about you.

“do you want to cancel tomorrow’s interview?” lisa, your manager, asked one day. you hadn’t answered your phone at all and she was concerned so she drove to your new york apartment and let herself in with the spare key she had. she had found you in the darkness of your room curled up with your plethora of blankets.

“cancel everything. i just want to rest for a while.” you managed to say. lisa was like your second mom. she cared about you more than anything.

“we can do that.” lisa assured.

“lisa?” you turned to face her.

“yes?”

“thanks for checking on me.”

“always.”

after that conversation, lisa made some calls and any movie or tv show deal you had were quickly cancelled. over the next few days, the media found out that you pulled out of many movies from big franchises like marvel and star wars. it was always a dream of yours to be in anything marvel or star wars related, but for now, those projects had to continue without you.

many friends and colleagues reached out to you, but all you could do was send a simple ‘thank you’ and be done with it.

days passed and you were still in your apartment. you didn’t mind being alone, you liked it better that way. sometimes lisa or your parents would drop by or even your upstairs neighbor, mrs. davis, a nice old lady who knew that your favorite cupcakes were red velvet so she made you some to cheer you up.

it was a tuesday afternoon when you heard someone cursing multiple out in the hallway. you figured someone got locked out so you ignored it. pretty much everyone in the entire building got locked out at least once. you were ignoring the cursing as you continued reading your book and ate your red velvet cupcake that your kind neighbor had made you. a few seconds later, you heard a knock on your door.

“no.” you groaned as you stood up to answer the door. you opened it to find tom. you had only known him because you had a mutual friend so you were surprised to see him at your door.

“hi,” he spoke. “i called and texted . . a lot. i just wanted to see how you were.”

“i’m alive as you can see.” you said.

“i know you’ve been asked this question a lot lately but are you okay?”

that’s when you broke down. you couldn’t keep it together in front of tom, but he didn’t mind comforting you. somehow he knew exactly what you needed to hear.

he would often come over to keep you company when lisa or your parents couldn’t. he understood you didn’t want to step foot outside so he didn’t force you. instead, you two would go up to the terrace of your apartment building and hang out. tom would bring lunch or dinner depending on the time that he decided to visit. during that time, you two would talk about whatever would come to mind. tom did his best to avoid talking about work, but you always asked how his filming was going or if he had auditioned for anything new.

“i got the part,” he admitted. “i’m playing billy the kid.” he smiled brightly.

“I’m so happy for you, tom! you deserve it!” you hugged him.

“it’ll be announced next week. you’re the first to know, well apart from my manager.” he chuckled.

“you deserve that and more.” you smiled.

“you do too. other people should see that,” tom said. “you’re so talented and amazing and everything about you is so. . . incredible. i wish people see you the way i do.”

you were speechless.

“are you okay?” tom asked when he noticed you were quiet.

fuck. fuck. fuck FUCK he thought to himself

“you mean it?” you managed to say. you could feel yourself start to blush.

“every bit and more. i enjoy being with you and if i could be with you for the rest of my life then i would die a happy man.”

#tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth imagine #actress!reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tom blyth fanfic #tom blyth one shot

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glystenangel · 10 months

Note

Hi! I would love to request a Sukuna x Sorcerer Reader oneshot where the reader gets called in to help to fight against Sukuna. When the reader arrives to fight, Sukuna took a liking towards her and flirts with her while fighting. Also, this would be enemies to lovers, smut and romance, a spicy vibe to it, and I'm okay with you posting this oneshot publicly ^^ - ☀️💖👑

In the Heat of Battle

Sukuna x Sorceror&Afab!Reader

tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, everything in the ask but also i did this in a historical au bc...i like them, sitting in a hot spring with sukuna, SEX, cunnilingus, degradation/praise, edging😇, dirty talk, cussing, ridin', bratty reader, cumeating, sukunas got his 4 arms, half smut half fluff, i get a bit philosophical in the middle sorry, mentions of murder, injuries, and blood, etc.

~ 10k i got a lil too excited mayhaps bc this is not oneshot length but whatever

thanks for requesting, i hope you like<3

_________________

Fighting a curse like Sukuna meant you were lucky to be alive for this long.

Of course, you never had much need for luck.

“Ooh, so close.” Sukuna laughs into an effortless dodge, so agile that you can feel the air gliding underneath your palm for an irritatingly brief moment.

His voice is deep and so closely threaded with power the entire town practically shudders with the sound.

“I’ll get you next time.” You spit, gritting your teeth and preparing yourself for the next series of attacks.

Sukuna opens his hands wide, “You can have me anytime you want.”

Ever since you got called into battle, your opponent took it upon himself to flirt with you more than he fought with you. Even as you beat him to a pulp, he would persist. It was nothing short of maddening.

You glare at him, cursed energy coursing through you as you ready yourself once more, “Shut up already!”

“Hm,” He licks the ivory tip on one of his canines with a rough stroke of his tongue, as if savoring the threat, “Happy to have a pretty girl like you shut me up too.”

“I’ll shut you up for good, and you won’t like how I do it. Trust me.”

“Come on, sweetheart. You’re good, but good enough to beat me? Be honest with yourself-”

Before he can finish, the cursed spirit’s neck is in your hands and you’re relishing the way his pupils shrink in alarm at your successful grab. Despite his shock, Sukuna manages to minimize any possible damage by dragging you with him as his body is forced backwards from the impact of your ambush. The instinctive maneuver is enough to pull you into the wall with him.

Rubble from the area you and Sukuna crash into cascades around your fallen figures. The fear of injury stings through your body, and you only register it when you instinctively push out your arms to get yourself back on your feet.

“Not so fast.” Sukuna’s arms entangle you again, and you belatedly realize he had landed beside you.

He also rises to his feet more quickly than you can, pinning you to the chalky remains of the wall and sneering at your frantic clawing along the tops of his knuckles.

You hazily hear the gravelly reverberation of Sukuna’s laughter, and return to the rest of your senses, “Get the fuck off me!”

“Watch your temper.”

He keeps you in his grip with his four arms, and you continue to struggle in their collective grasp. The veins of his arms are tense and pronounced from the rest of his olive skin.

“...And your modesty.” He pinches the hem of your collar between a few fingers, the tease emphasized by the slide of fabric across your skin.

The heat that follows the motion enrages you.

Sukuna looks down at you with continued bemusement, and you follow his line of sight to find your shirt ripped open.

There’s a slight wrinkle in his nose that indents into the small black slash across it, and it’s caused by the smug expression on Sukuna’s face. His grin seems to have a cunning bite to it, and the corners perfectly complement the shape of his jaw.

As much as you hate to admit it, he has a nice smile. Nice enough to make your heart skip a beat.

Too bad you had to get rid of it.

Wrestling him to the ground, the impact leaves you breathless and a loud ringing enters your ears subsequent to you rolling yourself onto your back. You must have slammed your head, because you can feel the back of your scalp becoming sore.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice your fellow sorcerers retreating and collecting the wounded. After your requested arrival, you had been exchanging violent maneuvers with Sukuna for what felt like hours.

In reality, you know that it probably hadn’t been any more than 10 minutes since you tackled the curse and began delivering blows with your curse abilities.

Everything is on fire.

You have to finish the job.

“Looks like you hurt yourself pretty good.” You hear through your blurring vision, “Can you keep going?”

What?

Part of you strains to hear, and the other half retains enough instinct to push away Sukuna’s broad shoulders as he approaches.

You’re still trying to land attacks as your consciousness fades and he catches each one, making you resist even more and inadvertently expend your remaining energy.

“Stop. You’re cute for trying but don't.” He snarls.

A nice, square blow to his cheek grants you some satisfaction as you finally lose consciousness.

_________________

When you wake up, dozens of local sorcerers and townspeople are flocked to your side and hurriedly checking your vitals from where you lay on the ground.

“How long was I out?”

“About a minute.” A villager answers, dusting the debris off of your clothes.

“It’s fine, I’m fine.” You brush them off, the pounding in your head matching the one in your chest.

Although dazed, you scan beyond the crowd for any trace of Sukuna.

“He’s gone, don’t worry.” Someone says.

Even so, you contine to look for him.

Though you’re not sure why.

_________________

In spite of your bewilderment, you continue to search for Sukuna throughout the days succeeding the fight.

However, he seems to be searching for you too.

As luck would have it, he finds you first.

_________________

You dunk your wounds in the warm water, trying to relax into the hot spring and let the steam clear your mind.

Thanks to a healing sorcerer named Shoko, most of your wounds were able to be skillfully closed up, but they seem to still ache as though they were fresh.

So, you had ventured into the woods to the secret hot spring you had found years ago. The countryside was littered with them, and this one was your favorite due to the privacy brought by the trees and the soothing temperature. You were convinced that it had some sort of healing properties due to the mineral content that clouded the water, but you didn’t expend too much thought on that theory.

No one else seems to know about it either, so you trust the serenity of your secret hiding place enough to rest your head on the rocks and drift off.

As sleep begins to kiss your eyelids, a nearby rustle has them snapping back. You freeze, not wanting any splashing to alert the possible intruder.

Breathing slowly, you scrutinize the area that appears to be the source of the noise. You feel your battle worn joints scream in protest, but your gut instinct tells you that you may have to prepare to defend yourself.

The shadows of the trees drag over a tall figure, and your eyes widen at the familiar outline.

“Oh shit.”

Your thoughts mirror the words delivered by that unmistakable voice ingrained in your recent memory.

It’s Sukuna.

He has a bruise trailing along his jawline, and you recognize the blooms of purple as your handiwork among the other scrapes and scars dotting his person. It seems most of them have healed less neatly than yours have. Sukuna takes a step forward, and you note that he has a limp in his gait. The robes he wears are clean however, ivory and slate gray in color, seemingly too pure for someone as malicious as him. He rotates his neck and shoulders, the movement of those broad muscles prompting the stretch and pull of his pecs. His eyes stay trained on yours, the color of autumn leaves burning into your wary hues. Even with his obvious injuries, his presence brings chills to your body. He still looks strong.

The sudden appearance has you ducking lower into the misty water with a not so subtle splash.

“Don’t look!”

You internally wince at your unplanned plea, expecting him to laugh or roll his eyes, but it only makes him pause.

The struggling rise and fall of your chest becomes ignored as you make out his face through the steam, which lacks emotion or mercy of any sort.

Then, he covers his eyes with a large hand draped over the bridge of his nose.

“Okay.” Sukuna says, the agreement is accommodating yet inflected with a nonchalance that forces you to blink hard.

Another silence falls over you both, and you place a hand on one of the stones bordering the pool. Tufts of grass poke between the coarse gray, and you can feel a few get caught under your knuckle white grip.

You can’t fight him like this, so you have half a mind to run.

The thought is interrupted when the curse speaks again, “Can I come in?”

The ask jolts you back into that perilous place between fight or flight, “No fucking way!”

“I’ll keep my eyes to myself, promise.”

No irony laces his speech, and true to his word, his eyes remain covered.

Before you can retort, he says again, “Besides, I don’t think either of us are in any condition to fight…you more so than me. Don’t you agree?”

His lips move beneath the curve of his hand, and you follow the shape of them with little interest. They’re split with a line of scabbed blood, and his hand has green bruising patched over the back of it.

He somehow looks worse than you do.

“I don’t think you’re in any condition to insult me either.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry.”

The water continues to rush over your body, and you feel it easing the tension within. Nature eroding every facet of pain into smooth relief.

It would be a first for you to share such consolation.

“Fine. But, don’t come near me. Or look.” You acquiesce, though just in case you assume a stance that resembles offense somewhat.

Honestly, you feel ridiculous.

Sukuna smiles widely, and then he continues walking until he senses the edge of the water by the heat on the bottoms of his feet. You briefly shield your own eyes when he disrobes, and he slips into the opposite side of the spring so gracefully you wonder if he’s secretly peeking through his fingers. His sheer mass displaces some of the liquid, and it hits your shoulders as he settles in.

Once he’s waist deep, and to your surprise, he turns away to rest his chin over crossed arms. His other two arms swim through the spring, feeling what little current there was running across his palms.

Feeling awkward, you do the same, but periodically look back to see if he wasn’t going to rip your heart out from behind.

His back is lined with deep grooves of strength and the dark marks tattooed onto his skin, water puddling over the dips and then spreading thin into glossy sheens as it evaporates.

Your throat wets with saliva at the magnificent view.

Every part of Sukuna seems perfectly sculpted to fight and conquer. A sadistic culmination of poetry in motion.

You examine your own figure wrought with power and evidence of your training. The same water decorating him was lapping at you too.

An even match, you think.

“You’re being awfully quiet, getting dirty thoughts about me already?”

The croon shifts your focus, and you whip around to flick water between his shoulder blades. The shot hits its target, though he hardly seems to register the miniscule shot.

What an annoying guy.

“Hey. Don’t make me come over there.”

“I’d like to see you try.” You roll your eyes and return your sights to the treeline when you sense movement behind you.

As soon as your peripheral picks up on Sukuna rushing towards you, you manage to lift your hands in time to catch Sukuna’s.

Large globs of water hang off of the thick elbows he hoists into the air, the liquid trickling down to his ribs and then rippling the surrounding water. His height is nothing short of monstrous as you glower at the smirking curse.

Moisture is also loosely braided into his petal hued hair, which glistens in the sunlight before fading into a dark, cropped shadow around his ears and above his neck. He looks…different up close and without the rigid aura of battle.

Your fingers interlock tightly together, no words easing the moment. Speaking seems impossible, and the prolonged clasp has you swallowing hard.

The stare Sukuna uses to capture your eyes is unreadable. Every secret you’ve ever held seems to be pulled nearer, threads sinking into the garnet depths like those fabled red strings of fate. However after scanning down your neck and then back up to your face, a satisfied glint emerges.

“That’s what I thought.” He tuts, as if disappointed, “You humans have no conviction. Pathetic little creatures.”

With that, he lets out a wolfish chuckle and releases you. The amusement fades in the air as he goes back to his previous seat, the broad shape of his back facing away from you once more.

The silence holds for a while, just the gurgle of water and occasional slosh from you or Sukuna cupping water over yourselves.

Only the damned curse behind you seems to like taking the lead in breaking each quiet stretch of time.

“So, you really gonna kill me?”

You sigh, running a hand over your cheek, “I hope so.”

“Don’t you want to get it over with? I’m right here.”

You chance another glance at him from over your shoulder, resting your temple on a fist.

Sukuna doesn’t move. You can’t see his face or imagine what kind of expression is laid across it.

All you see are the slashes you inflicted upon him, and the slightly pink scars beneath from past sorcerers who died in their attempts to rid the world of Sukuna’s terror once and for all.

As if he can feel where you’re gawking, he scratches the spot with a long black nail and lets out a discontent mumble.

Oddly enough, you find him both pitiful and loathsome. He won’t live for much longer, and surviving that final brawl certainly won’t leave you untouched. Once you take his life, you highly doubt that you’ll be able to keep yours for much longer after that.

There is an intimacy in knowing that you’ll die with someone. That you will be the last person each one will feel under each other’s hands and see as you draw the same, last breath.

Because of that, you find that you can’t look at him anymore.

“I don’t want it to be like this.” You finally admit, cutting the disdain from your voice and tapping the top of a stone.

The smile on his countenance is something you swear you can hear now, “We’ll keep this a secret then, yeah?”

“What secret?”

“This place, stupid.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Well, you’re acting like it. Now me? If I were you, I would’ve reached over and snapped my neck. Injuries be damned. I get it though, must be that so-called honor you humans adore indulging in. Can’t say it hasn’t infected me unfortunately, I didn’t really feel like finishing you off after you hit your head either. It would’ve been an empty victory. Pretty lame way to get out of it if I’m being honest.”

You tilt your head with a squint, searching for his eyes again and finding them as he drops his head back to send you a cheeky simper.

“Just saying.”

You tear away from him, sinking into the water before rising again to rearrange the soaked strands of your hair.

“I won’t kill you, yet.”

“Well then,” Sukuna preens, derision oozing into his cadence, “I’m looking forward to your next attempt.”

_________________

You and Sukuna begin to meet there consistently.

Just until you heal, you promise yourself.

It isn’t even as though every meeting is on purpose, he just so happens to be in the area when you are.

A wordless, regular cadence where you bathe and Sukuna does the same, except you stay back to back.

At first, you don’t break apart the silences by bringing up sorcerers or most other related circumstances, it just comes off much too taboo.

You also didn’t want to give him any advantages for future fights.

So, you talk about everything else.

What the clouds are shaped like, his philosophies on the world, your hometown.

Sukuna knew quite a lot, you suppose due to his years spent roaming the country.

It makes you more and more curious about how he came to be what he is. You try to not address it, but it gnaws at you. Dancing at the tip of your tongue.

He seems to feel the same way, being quite frank and open with his own questions and replies.

Despite your efforts, one day Sukuna offhandedly mentions that he was once a sorcerer.

Just like you.

_________________

“All you sorcerers are the same. You lie to yourselves and everyone around you.” He rolls a pebble between his fingers and occasionally tosses it in the air.

You can see it arc over the top of his head, plummet down and start again. Sukuna had begun this cycle as soon as you had said something he disagreed with, likely something banal and harmless like how helping the weak is what sorcerers do.

“You make so many baseless assumptions, do you ever get tired of jumping to conclusions so often?”

“Baseless?” The pebble falls and he swipes it into his hand, “Not at all. I used to be a sorcerer, so I can make all the fucking assumptions I would like.”

That piques your full interest.

You openly stare at him now, ignoring the pounding in your ears from such an arbitrary, shared confession.

“So why do you do it?”

“What?”

“Everything.”

He shrugs, and it’s all loose heaves of muscle in that small gesture.

“I want power.”

“For what?”

“Same reason anyone probably does. Isn’t that why you’re a sorcerer? For power to do with what you want?”

He crosses his arms behind his head, leaning to look at you as he rests back on the woven appendages.

The insinuation makes you press your lips together before speaking.

“Yes, but not like you. You kill innocent people, sorcerers and nonsorcerers alike, and you show complete disregard for them. It’s hateful.”

“I don’t hate them,” Sukuna meets your eyes, and you dutifully ignore the burning scarlet held within them, “They’re just in my way. Plus, innocence is subjective. Don’t act like sorcerers or humans you know haven’t thought the same. Done even worse.”

“Well, not on the mass scale you have.”

“Not that you know of.” He scoffs.

“Do you know? Since you used to be a sorcerer and seem to know every goddamn thing about it-”

“I know because I killed those sons of bitches years ago.” His hands fall back into the water, “Look, I’m no saint, we’ve established that. But is having strength so evil? Sorcerers and curses know what that answer is, we’re just waiting to see who will get out of the way first. After that, who knows what will happen. Whoever wins will decide what is considered right, and that’ll be it.”

Sukuna hums in thought, and then rolls his shoulders back with a grumble.

“Whether that includes heart or morals, who fucking cares. The definitions keep changing anyway.”

You scowl at his aloof attitude, “I like the kinder definitions.”

The rebuttal has Sukuna’s nose scrunching with revulsion, “No offense, but there’s hundreds completely different from it. Doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me.”

The argument comes out like your heart bared between your teeth.

Sukuna is firm as he looks down his nose at you, “You aren’t the world.”

As if you expected him to say otherwise.

Even so, the snide point hits its mark, “I never said I was. I’m no saint either, but I like to think the world can be much more than you described.”

“It’s not. This is all we got.” He opens his hands wide, and the sun weaves through his fingers.

Flashes of verdant trees and distant villages scattered below snow capped mountain tops dance across the edges of his arms.

Unspeakable beauty that you swore to protect.

“It’s all you’ve got.”

You raise your chin, absorbing the outlines of the villages before whipping your head back to the grimacing curse.

“You’re right, we’re going to constantly be keeping the balance between sorcerers, humans, and curses. It’s precarious and annoying as all hell, but these are people’s lives. You may think they’re weak, but to know the world is terrible and yet choose to live among all of the curse related incidents and regular bullshit anyway is power. And what are you doing? Sure, what are some sorcerers doing? Preying on that bravery while hiding behind some preconceived notion of what power really is and what it should give them. You may try to twist your logic into justifying that humans are in the way or useless to the overall battle between stronger forces outside of their control, but my god is that not fucking exhausting and pointless as well? That’s great for you if you don’t mind it, but I do. Kill, don’t kill. If it truly doesn’t matter- If it’s all the same, why do any of it? Why choose to intentionally perpetuate more suffering if it’s going to happen without your help? You’re just- It’s fucking despicable, you know that?”

Anger burns the back of your throat and flushes your forehead with thin perspiration.

“Maybe,” You finally say, “Yes, we are the same. I’ve done awful, irreversible things. Killed when it wasn’t necessary, but I still try. I want to keep trying to be better for the people who deserve it. Like this village. Can you understand that?”

The water stills with a silence so palpable you can feel it pressing on your chest. The spray of steam relieves little tension with its hushed puffs into the solemn, thickened air.

You don’t say anything more, and eventually Sukuna leaves the hot spring.

_________________

He doesn’t return for days.

You don’t mind it.

In fact, you hope it stays that way.

You entertain the thought with a smile, ruffling the ends of your hair to shake the water out.

The amusement follows you as you walk through the forest back home, but then you hear a noise in the trees.

“Sukuna?”

As soon as you say the name, you cover your mouth as if you’ve just accidentally uttered a secret meant only for the dead to hear. Your shoulders tense up by your ears, and you stop in the middle of the forest floor. You wait, doing your best to listen past the chirp of birds and the overbearing rhythm in your chest.

The wind is the only answer you get, however, so you manage to relax until you hear a twig snap.

You jerk your head around, and that’s when the air rushes out of your chest.

Of course, it’s him.

It’s always him.

You’re beginning to toy with the idea that this forest is haunted by an emptiness, save for you two.

“Hi.”

Sukuna waves in a casual manner more adjacent to two friends who had unexpectedly run into each other at the market rather than a curse and the sorcerer tasked with hunting him.

“What?” You glare, crossing your arms over your chest.

“It’s very nice to see you too.”

That cheeky comment makes you roll your eyes, “Move or speak, I don’t care which one you choose.”

“You’re so scary, you know that?” He leans in close, showing all of his teeth and mimicking curling his fingers into claws around his jaw.

Another glare.

“Fine, fine.” Sukuna throws his hands up in exasperation, and then scratches the top of his head.

“Yes?”

The curse rolls his shoulders back, shifting his weight between his feet.

He seems…nervous. But that can’t be right.

The uncertain revelation is startled out of your mind by his next few words, “I was thinking about what you said. You were right.”

The words rush out in jilted succession, like he forced them to escape before he held them in for the rest of his days.

You can only stare at him, and his eyes seem stuck on yours. Like he’s searching for something akin to approval.

“A child was lost in the woods here yesterday. I came across it and…it asked if I was a bear.” He laughs at the memory, and the sound of it without any sort of mirth or irony was unnervingly pleasant and normal.

“Such a feisty little thing, calling me a rude beast and demanding a piggyback ride home to their mother. Since, according to the kid, she would be sad that they got eaten by an ugly bear. It reminded me of what you said. Humans do everything they can to live despite unfathomable conditions. It’s a power many curses lack-”

“What did you do with the child?”

You know of one local boy that matched that description, Megumi Fushigurou, all sass and adorable chubby cheeks with a penchant for berry picking in the forest until sundown and his mother feared he was lost.

“I carried it back to the village, the damn thing complained the whole way but we made it safe and sound.” Sukuna rubs the back of his neck with disdain hissing out from his canines, “Did I mention it’s a pretty convincing power?”

You swallow in epiphany, he wasn’t lying.

You had seen the little boy with his mother earlier in the day. The village hadn’t had any cases of missing residents or violent crimes for a while either.

You don’t know how Sukuna manages to read your face, but he steps forward close enough to make your breath hitch.

“I’m apologizing, if you couldn’t tell.” He rests a hand on top of your head, a heavy warmth that matches the sudden softness of his tone.

“I’m…trying. Just like you.”

The touch is brief due to Sukuna retracting it as soon as you register the weight of his palm. Your vision startles to the curse above you, and it becomes instantly captivated.

Every inhale is noticeable, the taut expanse of his chest rising and falling more delicately than you would have guessed for a murderer like him.

Sukuna’s lashes almost brush the structured perch of his cheeks when he looks at you, and you turn on your heel as soon as the sight breaches your field of vision.

Something about how unexpectedly pretty Sukuna is always causes your stomach to churn.

“Denial goes a long way.” You shrug, and the robe you donned earlier slips off one of your shoulders, “But, you’re welcome.”

You can feel Sukuna following the fall of fabric with his eyes, “Yes, thank you.”

“Thank you too…for listening, even though I was kind of mean.”

“You’re welcome, I needed to hear it.”

Before you can help it, you peer at him from over your exposed shoulder and fail to tug the corners of your lips down to neutralize your expression.

“Does this mean you’ll stop being a murdering, pillaging asshole?”

“Maybe.” He grins and opens his arms wide, “Will you?”

You’re punching him in a heartbeat, and he guffaws so loud and openly that your resolve drops in your stomach.

It’s uncertain whether it was only for a moment then, or completely.

_________________

Sorcerers are crowded around a table, pounding its surface and causing the paper maps strewn across to crinkle and fly.

The meeting had started almost two hours ago, and both you and the elder sitting at the head of the conference looked exhausted by the possibility of being there for another second.

“He’s been too quiet.” One says, staring at the inked out rivers and mountains surrounding the town.

“Thank her for that.” Another juts his thumb at you, and you lean forward to feign biting it off before he flinches his hand back into his lap.

“We haven’t gotten any attacks since you fought him.” He mumbles, and you sit up at that fact.

“Really?”

“Yeah, we have nothing to go on. Because you didn’t finish the job, he probably fucking left.”

You blankly stare at him, and he shies away in embarrassment after the elder speaks up.

“That’s not true. The surrounding villages haven’t had any incidents. He must still be here. Laying low.”

You process the statements and theories, your mind spinning.

Right. Laying low.

Nodding along to the shouts and conversations, you pretend to agree while imagining Sukuna’s laugh.

His eyes shut in contentment while his head is thrown back and his hands clutching at his stomach or chest, the sun filtering through his hair and skirting over the immaculate planes of his face.

You can picture it so well you could practically reach out and touch him. Memorizing his features had been part of your mission while hunting for him, but lately your mind was beginning to conjure so many more different images of him than before.

Not just how he looks, but how he smells and feels. The way water and the forest laps at the tattoos on his skin.

A calming, yet incredibly distinct combination of senses.

One you hope sparks more spite the next time the curse crosses your mind.

The knowledge that Sukuna’s death is your duty simmers your temper as the sorcerers around you bicker.

You don’t grasp any desire within you to have anyone else involved.

“Calm yourselves,” You shake your head, “He’s laying low, but no one can hide forever. I’m already tracking him.”

_________________

Time only continues to pass in that perfect, little bubble you and Sukuna have created for yourselves.

The entire experience is bringing you a puzzling agony you grow less and less tolerant of.

Physically, you heal quicker than expected, and Sukuna only continues to become bolder and bolder following his own healing.

“You seem upset today.”

“Not.” The answer leaves you as forcefully as the clumps of grass you’ve been pulling out of the ground while sitting on the edge of the hot spring.

Your feet agitatedly swirl in the water, and you flick another handful of blades off to the side.

“So you are.” He wades over to you, and you place a protective hand on the hem of your robe resting across your thigh.

The act only makes him grin, so you return your focus to the decimated plants under your other palm. However, you soon yelp in surprise when Sukuna dives head first into the water and then suddenly resurfaces between your knees.

He wraps his fingers around the curve of your thigh, “Need some relief? You being more of a brat than usual is really getting on my nerves.”

“I’m not mad. Just thinking.” You huff, sounding immensely angry.

Sukuna only seems to register the fact that you’re staying under his touch, and he sinks in his nails a bit. Not enough to draw blood, just to test the bounce of your skin and how the water transfers from his touch.

The warm water glosses over the plush of your legs, and to your horror, Sukuna bends down to observe the shifting luster more closely, the swell of his bottom lip drawing heat as it hovers near your core.

It suddenly feels too hot.

The hunger in his eyes isn’t lost on you when he tilts his head up. You didn’t know rose petals could bloom away from the earth, but the crimson of Sukuna’s eyes begs you to reconsider. Once he seems to have his fill of your shaky gaze, he ducks his head back to your lap.

“Normally, it’s kind of cute when you’re upset.” His thumbs rub circles all the way beneath your clothing and up to your hips.

The motion only ignites more fire in you, “But I’m getting concerned. The forest won’t survive if you keep tearing it up like that.”

A chuckle is imprinted in the kiss he presses to the top of your thigh, and you let out a gasp so close to a whispery soft whimper that you pray to the gods Sukuna didn’t hear it.

“I can help you feel better.” Rumbles of dark desire coat the purr of his throat as his lips tread inward, “You sound like you want to. Am I wrong?”

He heard.

Then, in one swift motion, he hoists your calves over his shoulders, and water is streaming off of his body and down the lines of his chin as his eyes meet yours.

Every drop racing down his figure incites petty jealousy in you. You want to touch him. Not in any familiar, destructive way you have previously. Gently and sinfully, with languid licks to the crevices of muscle gathering water. You want to feel his body twitch and contract, and how he groans at the rugged texture of your tongue. Your throat hollows in response to that epiphany, and then it becomes saturated with ill controlled saliva.

At that, you swing your legs off of him, and he catches you in the crook of one of his arms as you attempt to scramble to your feet.

“Get away from me!”

The hissed out words indicate otherwise, as neither of you escape from your holds on each other.

Sukuna’s hand is bracing your forearm, and he has others wrapped around one of your ankles, on the small of your back.

Every point of contact absolutely burns.

“You hate me, don’t you?”

The word hate seems to have a poison specifically sharpened for your conscience.

But the answer doesn’t come to mind.

You should know the answer.

It should be easy, laughably so, rather than something bitter choking your throat.

Where did it go? Where did it leave you?

“You still do.”

It’s not an accusation from him this time, more of a wounded statement.

Murky silence is the only companion to his words, and you offer no other to join them.

Once Sukuna’s grip loosens, you manage to steady yourself and leave.

_________________

The forest clearing greets you with the chirps of crickets and birds the next time you manage to drag yourself back.

Even the bubbling of the hot spring is lively, the steam coating the air and any bare skin you have exposed.

You wait beside it in your everyday attire, needing some semblance of a barrier between you and Sukuna if he ever chose to make his appearance. The loose fitting fabric was thicker than your bathing robes, but less rigid and formal than your sorcerer uniform.

You had spent some time over the passing days to toil over your last conversation with the curse. Sukuna’s question concerning the hatred you held for him being the major thought occupying your mind.

The answer was actually quite obvious, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it any louder than the soft echo in your head yet.

Practicing it seems pathetic, but when you open your mouth to try Sukuna is striding towards you.

He has no humor in his face, all harsh corners and lines, but that entire demeanor vanishes upon seeing you stand and give him a hesitant wave in greeting.

“What’s this?” Sukuna approaches close enough to pinch the fine cloth gathered at your elbow, “You know I like what I see, you don’t have to cover up.”

The contact makes you flinch away, and a tortured look knits Sukuna’s eyebrows together.

He backs up, holding up his hands and covering up his expression with a half hearted smile.

You never thought your chest would ache at any hint of him being unhappy.

“Okay, okay. Tell you what. Kill me if you’d like.” He bargains, running a hand through his hair, “I know you hate me.”

That word again.

So much bite and emotion to it that it floods your chest with the fresh sting of tears.

“I can’t hate you!”

The outburst forces Sukuna back, and the impact seems to force his eyes wide open.

You swallow your next few words, rethink them, swallow again.

Finally, they crawl out of your chest, “At least, not anymore.”

Truthfully you had always been better with your fists than your words, and you had never wished for the opposite until now.

Sukuna seems to register your claim, but remains silent.

You think he’s going to say something, bracing yourself for it by sweeping your eyes to the tree tops and then to the pebbles speckling the ground.

Still, Sukuna is silent.

The air becomes colder, blades of grass and your shoulders trembling. A desperation deep seated within you blooms in one last attempt to escape this mortifying mess.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?”

A passive stretch of time is the only response you get.

Motherfucker.

As if your own shame and embarrassment wasn’t enough.

Lunging at him, your hands encase his neck with a strangled sound of utter frustration.

You have your full strength now.

You could kill him now.

Then, Sukuna places his hands over yours.

Instead of tensing, you relax completely.

He runs his thumbs over your knuckles, tempering the rage encased inside.

The sentiment in his eyes is far too soft for the murderous narrowing of your own.

It’s as infuriating as it is endearing.

You catch yourself wondering why you hold the power here, but it feels hopelessly lost when Sukuna holds you like this.

One of his hands travels across your arm, finding home in the cup of your cheek.

There it is again, his thumb stroking your skin like the shining facet of a jewel he can’t quite yet catch in the light. A breeze follows the placating touch, and you can’t tell which causes you to shiver.

He sighs, so defeated and low that you feel it mirrored in the tightness of your chest.

“If I say something…We’ll do something.”

The words ghost across his lips in the sweetest mumble you’ve ever heard.

You blink distractedly at the movement of his mouth, pink flesh moving over white teeth, “Do what?”

Saliva pools under your tongue, and you bite down on the swell of your bottom lip to suppress the gnawing appetite rising in your stomach.

His stare falters, his lashes fluttering down with peeks of ardent vermillion between, and then falls to the ground wordlessly.

You feel the comforting weight of it dissipate, and suddenly you’re weaker than before.

“Can you-” Your hands falter, lowering to grab at the collar of his clothing, the fabric clumping in your wobbly hands, “Just show me?”

Sukuna deftly reaches back, placing his hands along your hips and pulling you close.

You can sense fire pulsing under your skin as he continues in deliberate, measured fragments. His eyes never leave yours, all dilated pupils and honeyed warmth. He cups your lower back, the fabric beneath his palms shifting.

Gradually, he starts inching them up the sides of your waist. Squeezing and gripping portions of your curves with airy hums of thought.

You can’t breathe.

This silence is more purposeful than the last.

You both know what it implies, though Sukuna seems intent on making that knowledge undeniably transparent.

The kiss arrives as your eyes flutter shut, and Sukuna’s lips on yours taste like mutual devastation.

He tilts his head, the kiss deepening and unfurling butterflies in your stomach.

You lightly bite down on his bottom lip before swiping your tongue across the achingly soft surface, and he immediately grants you access with a low groan.

You don’t want to fight anymore. You want to surrender.

Curious hands roam along your body as the kiss deepens, stroking your cheek, the back of your neck and encircling your torso.

For someone so feared and strong, he possesses an astonishing gentleness that any prior replication of affection you’ve ever received now seems poor and revolting.

The tips of his fingertips skirt the hems of your clothing, and then they’re against bare skin. Soft tugs have your robes sliding down, and you gasp as the frigid temperature of air raises goosebumps over your skin. Chills kiss at your shoulder blades and up to the back of your neck.

Sukuna draws back, hooking his fingers into the fabric slung across his shoulder as he drags it over his head and reveals the familiar lines of muscle carved into his sides. The latter disappears into his pants, which reveals the tented mound between his legs. Despite the brief interruption, he presses you close to his chest the instant his top half is free from the restrictive material.

And he kisses you.

Kiss after kiss after kiss.

You occasionally flit your eyes open between locks of tongue and curse words stuck to the roof of your mouth, only to squeeze your eyes shut from enduring Sukuna firmly grabbing fistfuls of your hair.

His nails lightly graze your scalp, and he alternates between rough tugs and careful consolations down the back of your neck.

“I’ve never desired anyone or anything more than you.” He pants, and you wince at the desperate rasp of the declaration.

Your pussy is sapped with want, and your hips sway when he rests his hands past them.

“Fuck.” Sukuna sighs, fondling the soft mounds of your ass in his palms.

He spreads them apart, and a jolt of adrenaline shoots up your spine.

“You flinched.” He chuckles, biting your ear lobe.

The electricity in the point of his canine nicking your skin has you throwing your arms around his neck, and you hide in the nape of his neck with a whimper.

Sukuna acknowledges the sound by carefully holding up your wrists one by one and then rolling your sleeves up to your forearms to undress you. The abandoned robes petal around your ankles onto the forest floor, and Sukuna returns your arms to crossing behind his neck.

He tilts his head, his eyes simmering as they rake over your bare skin,” Well, look at you.”

Your elbows lock as your knees buckle, a sequence of motion vastly contrasting the vexed way you had gripped his neck only moments ago.

Sukuna catches you instinctively, hoisting your legs around his waist and clasping you to his front.

Your pussy drools at the flush of rigid heat pressed in the middle of your thighs, and you can hear Sukuna licking his lips as his hips support your weight, “Can you take it? I’m sure you can.”

The curve of his neck hides your face, but you know he can feel the warmth blooming on your cheeks when you stare down the scars of his back to see him tucking a thumb into his waistband.

The empty pocket between his skin and his pants only becomes more revealing, and you swallow as his entire frame soon becomes bare.

Sukuna keeps you settled close against his body, even when the cotton threads you sopped with your arousal get tugged away from you.

Then, you’re skin to skin.

You can sense his hardness before you even get a glimpse.

“F…fuck.”

The word is breathy and pained in your ear, and your own mouth falls open in a soundless gasp.

Every touch is scorching and placating at the same time, like every nerve in your body is perked and alert. So sensitive and ready that no point of contact goes unrecognized.

You want more. Need more. You can feel the ask escape your lips even as the thought fogs your mind.

The tops of your thighs are molded together by Sukuna’s heavy grip around them, and you use that to leverage your hips forward and back.

The bottom of your slit kisses the base of his cock as the length of it throbs against your stomach, and you slot your tongue into Sukuna’s mouth with reckless abandon.

“You-” Sukuna begins, swiping his tongue across your bottom lip, “Are so cute like this. All desperate and needy.”

“Shut up.” You reply simply, sucking at the corner of his mouth with continued fervor.

The meaningless command has him chuckling, but then the back of your neck is wrapped in his palm.

“Sure, I’ll shut you up.”

He deepens the kiss the next time his cupid’s bow meets your own, and your mind is so fuzzy you hardly register that Sukuna has carried you into the hot spring.

The humid heat of it rises along your waist, and Sukuna trails a few affectionate kisses along your jawline and down behind your ear before swiveling your hips to have you face away from him.

Droplets of water cascade down the slope of your back, and a wanton cry escapes your throat when Sukuna stripes them up to your shoulder blades with the point of his tongue.

You buck your hips back at the touch, whining when you feel his length behind you.

This seems to encourage him to explore your back with consideration, eventually lifting your hips and hissing out a strained sound of gratification when the tip of his cock prods at your entrance.

Strings of water and precum adorn the crown of his swollen cockhead, and you slightly wriggle your hips to get more of it inside.

“Put it in.” You demand softly, biting your lip as you attempt to peek over your shoulder and down your back.

Sukuna automatically brings your hips lower, and your eyelashes flutter as he gradually guides you onto his girth.

“Mhm- Yeah, put it in. More.” Your tongue unfurls, and Sukuna swears from the excitement in your voice.

“Oh fuck yes.” He lets out a gasp so full of primal wonder that it comes out as more of a growl, his eyelids flitting over his rolled up eyes.

The whites of his gaze belatedly return to those scarlet irises you adore, his mouth remaining slacked with a strained moan when he draws his hips back.

“Feels good?” You manage to pant, digging your nails into the back of his wrists.

“I love it. Thank you, the sweetest girl for me.”

The sting of his cock stretching open your walls is so addictive that the languid slides into your slick heat are audible.

“Thank you-mm. Fuck, thank you.”

Sukuna crouches to lick at the shell of your ear with a lengthy curl of his tongue, “Best pussy I’ve ever fucking felt.”

You spend some time drinking in each other’s moans, how your bodies fit together and the symphony of movement driving your shared pleasure.

Little time is spared by you for further speaking, and Sukuna quickly learns how to read your every flinch and wail.

He finds the perfect pace to bounce you up and down his cock, the aching preference you have for his tongue twisting around yours as you ride out your orgasms along the thick spine of his girth.

“Is this good?” He asks, full well knowing the answer, “Is this spot good?”

“You’re doing it wrong.” You huff, sarcasm punctuating the lie.

An immediate pause.

“Am I?” Sukuna grinds lazily against your sticky walls, “This isn’t the right way?”

Your mouth falls open, and you spread your legs wider as your insides wind snugly around his cock.

He plunges inside more slowly, nudging at your cheek with his nose, “Tell me how wrong it is.”

Utterly stuffed, no other argument escapes you.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” The curse smirks, but even the upturned corner of his mouth in your peripheral wobbles.

It’s incredibly adorable, but you have little time to dwell on it when Sukuna begins to slam into you faster.

You can sense him everywhere now, gripping your arms, his lips sucking soft spots onto your neck, and his hips grinding into yours until your mind is foggy and your screams turn coarse.

“God, your pussy just melts on my cock. Such a bratty cunt, but fuck - Think I like spoling you. Giving you what you need even when you can't ask for it.”

He draws out the curse, gunning into your cunt recklessly. You can feel the plush of your ass rippling against the constant pistoning of his hips.

“You feel that too? You feeling my dick? Good. Good.”

Every compliment hangs off of his tongue like he doesn’t want it to leave before he can get another quick and purposeful thrust in. Threads of thick saliva and precum knit your mutual bliss together, and you can feel his unruly cockhead rubbing creamy circles into the ceiling of your pussy.

“So wet.” Sukuna’s tongue clicks beside your ear while he continues fucking you up and down his lap in buzzing pulses.

He has an uncanny sense of when you’re close to the edge, as he’ll reel his hips back and only resume motion after your tightness minimally subsides.

The lack of release has you feeling entirely helpless, even though every time Sukuna is back to ramming your insides to near completion, you become so stupidly out of touch you forget the consequences and take it.

Every. Fucking. Time.

Not talking was a choice before, but now it’s an impossibility, only your cries punctuating the air with shamelessness.

Your pussy is runny and sloppy from the overflow of desperation. The loud squish of it is echoed by the excited hums of approval Sukuna allows to coat the back of your neck.

“Hey, I love you. You know that right?”

Sukuna bends your throat up higher, kissing and tonguing at the spots of it that he can access between his fingers.

“I love you. You’re mine.”

“You love me?” The question comes out garbled and pathetic, but it makes Sukuna kiss behind your earlobe with a tenderness you never thought could exist.

“I do. I love you. Just look at you.” He strains, one of his hands pressing down on your stomach.

“Oh God,” You observe the brutal penetration beneath you with awe, “What do I do?”

You don’t know why you’re asking, you just feel as though you have to ask him.

“What - do I -” The question is barely comprehensible with cries and ecstatic moans, but Sukuna answers you anyway.

“Take it. Take it all.”

The simple suggestion has your muscles clenching before you fully relax.

“That’s it. T-That’s it. Just like you’ve been doing-shit. Right there, yeah? I got it.” Sukuna pants, and when you crane your cheek back you catch a glimpse of the wild carnage in his glossy, dilated pupils.

It feeds your ego much more than it should.

“You’ve done it. You’re killing me.” He shudders, shoving you onto his cock with so much need that you can hardly tell one thrust from the next.

You gasp out as you clutch at the back of Sukuna’s neck, staring at him with widely blown out pupils and shaky breaths.

“Then, die for me.”

His lips are on yours before you can even finish the sentiment, as if he was eager to accept the total mercy of death as long as it was under your hand.

Sukuna’s hips continue gunning upwards into your flooded cunt, his tongue slotting into your mouth with whiny urgency and his arms tightening around your convulsing figure.

You feel like you’re bursting at the seams, cloudy and dumb with nothing but the heat of Sukuna’s body in your head.

You can feel yourself all over the fat, greedy rushes of his cock.

A warm and gushy mess saturated with praise and pleasure.

“Sukuna!”

The name leaves your mouth with an eruption of paradise springing from your sex, and Sukuna holds you as your body seizes with quivers.

He keeps you upright, doing those slow pumps that drove you crazy back when you were desperate to cum.

Now, they are soothing and filling. Sensual.

Sukuna lets you ride out your high until you’re loose and hoarse in his hold.

Feeling totally spent, you let him rearrange you against his frame and he gives the crown of your head a soft kiss once your cheek is leaning against his collarbone.

“Can I see?” He taps your lower back, voice rough and entreating.

You raise your head, and then provide him with a sleepy nod.

Sukuna pecks your forehead with a grin, and then effortlessly picks you up to rest your thighs over his shoulders.

“Oh wow.” He says, as if witnessing something so wondrous and rare that he can’t tear his gaze away from the sight.

The low exclamation makes you involuntarily squeeze and drip, creamy traces of Sukuna’s fluids oozing out with your own.

You can almost see the want spark in his eyes, deep maroon and curious.

He interlocks two of his hands behind your spine, using another hand to spread your lips apart and swallowing hard when your pussy seeps out more of your shared arousal.

The last of his hands reaches out to rub at your clit with the pad of a finger, and Sukuna licks his lips when you wind your hips down to meet his finger faster.

He looks up at you, a wordless ask, and you answer by tugging his head toward your core.

Sukuna reacts with a muffled grunt, lolling out his tongue and loudly lapping up your juices the second his tongue gets a taste of you.

You squirm in his hold, “Oh god, Sukuna!”

He pinches your slippery nub between his fingers, poking his tongue into the bottom of your leaking slit and then scooping his tongue upwards through the seams.

His taste buds sweep against the grip of your walls, and harsh breaths line your throat as he selfishly explores every inch of your pussy that he already laid to waste with his cock.

“Finish one more time for me.” He rapidly murmurs, his nails digging into your thighs.

“I d-don’t think I can!” You squeak, afraid that the knot in your stomach will snap much more intensely than the first time.

Sukuna seems to take that as a challenge.

He’s undeniable, scorching your flesh with determination and ardent gulps. The tip and flat of his tongue aggressively writhe inside and squelch along your wetness. It’s nearly unbelievable how turned on you are from seeing one of the most powerful curses in the world buried in your cunt.

Your center only becomes more and more taut, which forces Sukuna to act even more starved. The point of Sukuna’s nose bumps against your engorged nub, and he spends such a dedicated amount of time outlining your most sensitive spots with his tongue that your eyes roll into black.

He latches his mouth around your sore bud, flicking and swirling his tongue around it until you mewl his name over and over again.

Liquid bliss coats his tongue, and you can vaguely feel the tired smirk when he makes you cum in his mouth one last time.

Exhaustion sets in hard for you as well, and Sukuna catches you in his arms to return you to his lap.

Once you’re settled again, Sukuna grants you another passionate kiss on the lips. Tasting yourself on his tongue has you wanting more of him, but the heavy drag of your eyelids dissuades you from asking for more.

Although you know now that he would do anything for you.

“I was always looking for you.” You breathe, the authenticity of your admission lighting up Sukuna’s visage.

He is so beautiful like that, eyes glistening with obvious affection and a weary beam. The blossom shade of his hair is damp and raked back, and the olive of his skin is covered with streams of water from the hot spring. A light sheen of sweat also adorns the nape of his neck and biceps, and you can start to see the extensive sanguine marks you raked over his toned body. One traverses from the dark, buzzed undercut behind his ear to the top of the black design on his shoulder.

You weakly raise a hand to relieve the broken skin there, but Sukuna catches your hand in his.

He moves stray strands of hair from around your eyes, pressing his lips wherever he can under your eyes and across your cheeks.

“Thank you for always letting me find you.”

Sleep comes to you remarkably easy after that.

_________________

Morning sun skims the dips of your face once you wake up.

You squint your eyes, wondering why you no longer smell the earthiness of the forest.

“Good morning.”

The drowsy greeting catches your attention instantly, and you sit up to find yourself in your own bed.

“How-?”

You turn and nearly collide your nose with his chest.

“Easy.” He encircles your shoulders, comfortingly enveloping you in a warm embrace, “First, say good morning back.”

You relax, tentatively reaching up to return the hug, “Good morning.”

Somehow, you can sense the charmed smile spreading across his face, even as he rests his chin atop your head.

He deeply inhales, his large hands moving along your back as you breathe alongside him.

“Better?” Sukuna prompts after a brief passage of time.

“So much better.”

His smile widens, “Good.”

“How did we get here?” You yawn, peering over his shoulder at the scattered sunlight in your bedroom.

“I carried you.”

You reel back to gape at him with a dubious raise of your brow, “You know where I live?”

“I followed you home once.” He states matter-of-factly.

Clear offense sprawls across your facial features, “No, you didn’t. I would have sensed you.”

“Not when you were all pouty and angry with me. It was cute seeing you stomp into your house.”

“Uh huh.” You somewhat acquiesce.

Sukuna’s solid frame shakes with a hearty laugh before he addresses you with a more remorseful tone, “I just had to make sure you got home safely. You’re perfectly capable alone, but you didn’t seem to be in your right mind...I’m sorry, I swear I left as soon as you went in.”

He runs his fingers through your hair as you listen, but all you can think about is how difficult it is to have any lasting anger towards him.

Forgiveness punctuates your subsequent sigh, a drawn out and desolate sound, “I don’t know what to do now. With all the hatred I had for you.”

“For me it’s the same passion, only the direction has changed.” Sukuna softens your shoulder with a delicate kiss.

You reach up to cradle his jaw in the heel of your palm, lightly scratching his hair with your other hand, “What are we going to do?”

“What would you like for us to do?”

“I want to kill you.” You admit honestly, but with no malice.

Sukuna shrugs with a smitten beam, “You’re the only one who could.”

You smack his bicep, “Sukuna I’m serious! What are we going to do?”

The curse shrugs again, cracking his neck to one side, “We can stage our deaths and run away I suppose. Build a home in the mountains and live there until we’re old and gray. Or, we can live from place to place, see everything there is to see. You’re smarter than me, so whatever you decide. I just don’t want to fight anymore, now that I have you to take care of.”

He twirls a piece of your hair around his finger, watching the light shift in your eyes as you take in the candid suggestions.

“What do you think of that, sweetheart?”

Appreciation floods your chest, “I like those ideas, actually.”

The corners of his eyes crescent with amusement, and then he lets out a thoughtful hum as he draws random shapes into your cheek.

“There will be time for all of that later though. For now, what do you want to do?”

You pause to think over his question, and then resolve to snuggle back into his embrace.

“I want to stay right here. Just like this.”

Sukuna lightly strokes the back of your scalp and then kisses your temple with a content sigh, his lips moving reverently over the skin there.

“How did I get so lucky?”

_________________

End Notes:

hahahaha. i liked this. it just kept getting longer and longer so i just gave in😩😩 it's p much a multichapter fic lowkey LOL but thanks again for requesting! really enjoyed writing this one :)💖💞

ps. i'd like to talk about this one a bit more so if anyone wants to comment or send an ask about it i will reply in-depth!!💝 tyyy<3

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charliemwrites · 4 months

Text

Part 6 of SpecGru (former 141) reader; Simon’s perspective again.

Content: brief implication/mention of reader having idle suicidal ideation. In the way of “I don’t care if something happens to me” kind of way. Happens during a phone call between Price and reader’s new captain.

Please be careful and safe. If someone needs this part summarized, let me know. I love you all very much <3

Here’s the truth of it: Simon never meant for you to leave.

You were too close, that was true. He did everything short of actually hurting you to drive you away. Treated you like a plaything, took your kindness and patience and feelings for him for granted. Left you cold and alone in a hospital bed — unable to see you pale and half-dead all because you were so goddamn headstrong…

That had put it all in vicious perspective. That he couldn’t keep you safe; knowing him, following him, would surely end with you on a metal table rather than a clean hospital bed.

In hindsight, he knows it was as much for his own sake as yours, trying to force that emotional distance between you two. But he just… he can’t do it. Not again. Not you. You’d break him.

But he never meant for you to leave. Not really.

Maybe take an extended solo mission. Or just break off the romance of it all. Maybe you’d stay away for a while, give him time to sort out his feelings and shove the useless ones back into the pit they belong in.

He didn’t expect you to be gone as soon as you could stand.

“You said yourself, Simon, she’s too young and reckless. The 141 can’t afford to babysit her,” Price explained.

“She nearly got you killed, LT,” Soap pointed out. That was before he found out that you were gone for good, not just on disciplinary leave.

And when he did…

“No. No, she dinnae…” he wiped a hand down his face, eyes going a bit glassy. “Why? Why would she… didn’t we mean anythin’ to her? I know we were all a bit on the rocks but ‘s just cos she gave us a scare…”

Gaz took it the hardest, showing up most morning with red-rimmed, puffy eyes. He tried texting you a hundred times; they never went through.

He and Soap begged Price to reconsider, saying that he had no right to kick you out without consulting the rest of the squad.

“I just told her that she should consider transfer,” Price corrected, steely.

“Same fuckin’ thing, ain’t it?” Soap raged. “What else ‘s she gonna do when it’s her captain sayin’ it?”

And Price had finally crumbled, his stubbornness giving way to a clearer head and regret in the aftermath. Simon knew how he felt; had been haunted with the same gut-wrenching feeling for two weeks by that point.

“You’re right. I shouldn’t have…” he wiped a hand down his face. “I’ll call Laswell, see if she can put us through.”

As it turned out, your new team had deployed you almost immediately. You were gone, relying on teammates you barely knew, and there was no guarantee when (or even if) you’d be reachable again.

When Laswell put Price through to your new captain instead, he scoffed down the line.

“That how the great John Price sends off his own?” He gruffed.

“I take care of my own,” Price replied, narrow-eyed.

“That’s explains it then, doesn’t it?” A shifting on the other end. “Well, she’s one of mine now, at least; better off that way I think.”

He was on speaker phone with the SpecGru captain. Shouldn’t have been, but it wasn’t a confidential call. So the rest of the 141 was there, vibrating with the effort to stay quiet.

Simon balled his hands into fists, arms crossed. He didn’t trust anyone with one of theirs. No, you belonged right there with the rest of the 141. They could keep you safe, keep you alive.

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” Price growled.

“Let me just ask you this, Price. And only because I need to know how to take care of her.” A pause, shuffling of papers. Something heavy and almost… hesitant in the silence before- “Did she always have this DNR order?”

Price’s office turned to ice. Simon’s entire shuddered, cored out. The arm of the chair Soap was occupying cracked. Gaz’s hand was covering his mouth, blood draining from his face.

“No,” Price answered, voice little more than rust.

A grunt on the other end.

“Thanks for the insight,” your new captain replied, sounding nonplussed. “At least you were good for something.”

The line droned, dead.

—

You’re standing with the rest of SpecGru, beaming like each and every one of them hung a star just for you. They orbit like you’re the sun, even Nikto, holding you in his arms, letting you lean back against him.

(You used to look at Simon like that. Used to let him hug you like that on the occasion he was weak and gave into the temptation to hold you.)

Every time he looks at you, it’s like a stranger with your face all over again.

You hold your shoulders differently. Tilt your head different. Have a certain control over your facial features better than any mask Simon’s donned.

Today you’re dressed down from your tac uniform. Specifically, your long-sleeve thermal has been replaced by a sleeveless gym shirt. It reveals that tattoo he caught only a glimpse of before — a big, intricate thing from your shoulder down your wrist.

(He and Johnny were going to go with you for your first tattoo. You asked them for all sort of recommendations. Enjoyed tracing Simon’s sleeve when he let you.)

There are more scars too. Burns, bullet grazes, jagged knife marks and patches from bad scrapes.

Nova is finishing up the wrapping on your hand, the other already done. You’re listening to something Russ is spouting off about, whatever it is making you laugh loud enough to be heard where Simon is lurking.

“C’mon,” Johnny says, bumping shoulders with Simon. “Know we fucked up yesterday, but we can try again. Maybe letting her beat the shite out of us will help clear the air, aye?”

Simon forces himself to look away. He already knows you won’t be glancing over.

“Yeah,” he replies. “Maybe.”

#thoughts™️#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #sad fic #angst #former 141 reader #specgru reader #simon ghost riley

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yoonguurt · 5 months

Text

Summary: A failed relationship and an ailing mother forces Y/N to move back to her hometown, despite not wanting to. She knows in her heart that everything will be the same as the day she left. Nothing ever changes in a small town. Except when it does. A new neighbor, a new hardware store, and two new additions to the town bring the holiday magic into Y/N’s life. The question is, will the magic stay or will the ghost of Christmas past ruin everything?

Pairing: non idol!San × reader

Genre: fluff, angst, smut

Trope: strangers to lovers

Word count: 15,207 (yikes)

Warnings: mentions of death of a parent, mentions of cheating (not San or reader), mentions of depression and antidepressants, reader's mother is in poor health. Smut warnings under the cut.

A/n: this is the longest fic I have ever written and I genuinely had fun writing it. I'm so proud of this. Thank you to @kwanisms for making the banner as always

@anyamaris @stardragongalaxy @millennial-fangirl @kpop-stories-21 @twisted-tales-of-all @skyechild @staytinyville

Smut warnings: Switch!San, switch!reader, oral sex (m&f receiving), fingering, marking, protected sex, they just soft for each other.

═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════

You step off of the bus, leaves crunching under you feet as you look around, noticing that the town looks pretty much the same as the day you left. Some of the buildings are more run down than they used to be, the roads are a little less maintained, but it’s nothing major.

You sigh and readjust the bag on your shoulder, tightening your grip on the suitcase beside you. Your thoughts drift, reminding yourself to call the moving company to confirm the arrival date of the rest of your things. Your thoughts shift to Joshua and you hear bits of your final conversation, before blinking away the tears starting to form and take your first step.

You had sold your car, knowing you wouldn’t need it in such a small place, your mother can no longer drive so you can use her car if needed. You look at your watch, not having a cell phone since not only was it on Joshua’s plan, but you didn’t want an easy way for him to contact you.

You start walking along the sidewalk, keeping your head down and lost in your thoughts. Your childhood home isn’t that far from the main square and you still know the way like the back of your hand.

A few people stop you and make small talk, surprised that you’re back in town and seeming to be staying for a while. You try to be polite, though avoidant when they ask questions, only telling them that your mother needed you here so you came. Your patience is being tested, but you do your best not to let it show on your face. God, you really don’t want to be here.

After finally getting away from the nosey town people, thinking that no one in this town has anything better to do than worry about other people’s business, you smile as you pass the local diner. You know you’ll be the talk of the town for a while, but the memories of all the time spent in that dingy diner drift through your mind.

Your first date, your first job (well sort of), your last hangout before leaving town. You remind yourself that you really need to stop by and talk to Lou as soon as possible. Out of everyone here, you’ve missed him the most and you know he’ll be happy to see you.

You make it to your mother’s neighborhood, looking around to see what, if anything has changed. Everything looks mostly the same, your mother’s house is in desperate need of paint and good lawn care, though. You notice the house to the right of her mother’s has changed.

There is a swing set in the yard, a small inflatable pool and a tricycle scattered throughout. You guess that the older lady that lived there must have moved. Of course she would have, it has been 12 years since you left. That lady may not even be alive anymore, that thought bringing a ping of hurt to your heart. She was always such a wonderful lady. You shake the sad thought away before stepping up to the front door and pulling your key out and unlocking the door.

You call out to your mother, letting her know that you made it. You hear your mother’s voice sounding out from the kitchen. You kick your shoes off beside the door and walk down the short hall, making a right into the kitchen to see your mother standing at the island in the center of the room, a smile on her face. You greet your mother with a hug and accepts the mug of coffee she hands you.

You look around as the two of you talk about your trip, noticing that there are many repairs that need to be made. Cabinets need to be painted and finished, the counters need to be fixed, and the wallpaper is peeling. You briefly wonder what else needs to be fixed.

You think you noticed the railing along the stairs was tilted. You sigh again, knowing that there’s no way you can leave these things the way they are. You know these things are bothering you, but in her current state you also know that she can’t fix them herself.

Your mother’s questioning about Joshua brings you out of your thoughts, and you force a small smile. “ He’s fine, mom.” You know that your mother can tell that there is something you aren’t saying, but decides not to push the issue right now.

After finishing your coffee, you excuse yourself, telling your mother that you are going to unpack your things and you make your way back down the hallway, making another right to go up the stairs.

As you reach the top of the stairs, you pause, taking a look around the upstairs of the house. Your childhood bedroom is to the left of the stairs There is a door to the right before you get to your room, your mother’s old sewing room. You remember sitting on the bean bag chair on the floor of the room reading while your mother sewed.

The next door on the left is the bathroom, you think about how many days you spent hours in there, trying to make sure you looked your best for school. Your bedroom door is the last door on the right, the room across the hall is an old storage room that you’re sure has many of your childhood toys. Your mother has always been a sentimental hoarder.

Before entering your room, you turn and take a long back down the hallway. There aren’t as many rooms down the right side of the hall. Your parent’s room is the only door on the left, the master bedroom with their own bathroom and there’s a small alcove with a bay window on the right.

Your eyes pause on the door at the end of the hall, your father’s study. You stare at the door for a moment before turning back to face your door. With one more sigh, you open your door, throwing one last look at the door at the end of the hall, and head into your room, closing the door softly behind you.

You let your eyes drift around the room. The desk that you used for homework is set up against the back wall and you quickly take your laptop from your bag, setting it on the desk and plugging the charger into the wall.

You had found a job as a remote legal assistant, mostly fielding emails to the correct parties, getting video calls of meetings that you needed to type the minutes for. You were very thankful that your former boss had put you in contact with someone that had the position available. Without being able to stop them, your thoughts drift to your old life.

You had left your hometown not long after graduating, knowing that the small town life wasn’t for you. You had quickly found a job as a receptionist for a law firm, and you were damn good at your job. And you loved your job. You regret that you didn’t visit more, really only making the two hour drive back home for the holidays. You had still talked to your mother every day, but you knew that she would have loved to see you more.

After being with the firm for a year, a new partner was welcomed into the work family. Joshua had immediately caught your attention. Not only was he gorgeous, but he was soft spoken and polite. A true gentleman. He had a wonderful sense of humor. He was just amazing.

For two years, your life had been everything you had wanted. Until the death of your father. His death hit you hard. You essentially shut down for a while, you can admit to that. You know that Joshua tried to bring you out of your grief, but you hadn’t let him in.

Though you could realize that those things happened, that didn’t excuse Joshua’s actions. It didn’t excuse you walking into Joshua’s office on day to find him fucking his assistant. No, there was no excuse for that. You had come to tell him that you would need to come back home for a while, your mother wasn’t doing well and you needed to get her settled. Now, your visit has become a permanent residence.

You shake yourself out of your thoughts and focus your attention back on your room.

Your bookcase sits left of the door, mostly empty. Your face falls into frown. You didn’t read much when you were a teen, too busy with parties and friends. You had picked up on the hobby after you had moved. The thought that the bookcase would be full once the rest of your things arrive lifted your spirits a bit.

Reading had become one of your most treasured hobbies. When you had a bad day, you could lose yourself in a fictional world. The thought that you didn’t know if you could take away the worries and doubts you have currently makes your heart sink a little bit, but you swallow the sadness down, determined not to let yourself breakdown again. You had done her crying the night she left and you promised yourself that that was the last time you would cry over Joshua.

You look around your room again, smiling at how it looks exactly like you left it. Your queen size bed still has the zebra print bedspread you had gotten when you were 16 and you cringe a little. “The first thing I’m buying is a new bedspread and sheets.” Your voice is a whisper despite being the only one in the room.

Your slight grimace fades into a smile when you see the handmade quilt your aunt had given you as a Christmas present folded and placed at the foot of your bed. You take a step forward and rub your fingers along the fabric, her eyes watering a little at the memory of your aunt giving it to her. You really need to call her and see how she’s doing. You huff a small laugh, remembering that even in this day and age, both your mother and aunt still have wall phones, thinking that they really are sisters.

After taking a shower and changing into a tank top and sweats, you make your way back downstairs to check on your mother and help her make dinner. You pop your head into the kitchen, clearing your throat to let your mother aware of your presence. “Need any help?” Your mom smiles and nods. “I would love some.”

The two of you make small talk as you bumble around the kitchen, cutting vegetables and preparing everything your need. You turn to face your mother, only to notice that she is winding, but trying to hide it. “Mom, sit down. I can handle the rest of this.” She opens her mouth to argue, but you throw a stern glare at her and she sighs and sits at the table, a slight pout on her face. What an adorable woman.

The food is ready in no time, and you make a plate for each of you.

“Wanna eat in the living room? Maybe we can watch The Thornbirds?” Your mother quickly agrees, glad to be spending time with you and watching something you both love.

You eat quietly, paying attention to the movie like you haven’t seen it a million times. When you’ve finished your food, you set your plate on the coffee table, fully intending to wash it once the movie is over. It hits you just how much you have missed spending time with your mom like this. You pull your feet onto the couch and throw a blanket over yourself as you lay your head in your mother’s lap, simply enjoying how much better it makes you feel.

“Y/N. Wake up, sweet girl,” your mother’s voice wakes you up.

You hadn’t meant to fall asleep but you guess that the comfort of snuggle up to your mother must have lulled you into slumber. You stand slowly, stretching with a grunt. Your mom stands as well, much more slowly than you had.

“Mom, is it your feet?”

She nods and tells you that it’s fine, but you make sure to help her up. You wrap your arm around hers, helping her up the stairs. “I can do this on my own, you know?” Her voice has a bit of her trademark attitude and you have to bite back a laugh. “I’m sure you can, but you’re not.” That makes her fake angry front break and she giggles.

Once you make it to your mother’s door, you let go of her arm. “I’m glad to have you home. I love you,” she ends with a kiss to your forehead and you tell her that you love her too before turning to return to your bedroom. You hope that your bed is as comfortable as it used to be as you climb in, getting comfortable. Sleep comes quickly, though your dreams are filled with arguments and tears.

You wake up later than you had planned the next day, though you don’t feel guilty about it. Your new job doesn’t start until next month so you don't necessarily have to be up early.

You hear your mother moving around downstairs and you make a stop by the bathroom to potty and brush your teeth before heading downstairs. You can’t help but stop at the top of the stairs, your eyes stopping on the door at the end of the hall. The thought of walking into the study crosses your mind, but you quickly dismiss it, knowing that you aren’t ready for that.

You peek in each room looking for your mother, eventually finding her on the back porch, a cup of coffee in her hand as she sits on the porch swing. She flashes you a smile and wishes you a good morning. “Though it’s almost afternoon. There’s fresh coffee in the kitchen,” she laughs at her own little joke.

“Morning Ma,” you greet her. “I’m so glad you made coffee. I’m not used to that bed anymore so I tossed and turned all night.” She hums in acknowledgement and you turn, moving forward to the kitchen to get your coffee.

While in the kitchen, your attention is brought back to the state of disarray of your mother’s home. You make the decision that today you'll go into the main square and get yourself a new bedspread and some basic necessities. Tomorrow you can go to the hardware store and look into what you’ll need to fix the kitchen up.

You make your coffee, and return to the porch and talk to your mother about your plans for the day, asking if her mother needs anything.

“All I can think of is that my medicine should be ready at the pharmacy. Do you mind picking it up for me?”

You agree and the conversation turns to what happened to the older lady that lived next door. “Oh. Her son had to put her in a home after she fell. I heard she passed after about a year.” Although this was what you expected, knowing that this is what happened still hurts.

“There have been a few people in and out of the house since then. Right now, there’s a young man around your age and his son. I don’t know much about him, but he seems like a nice boy.” Maybe more changed around here than you thought.

You take your time enjoying your coffee and chatting with your mom, getting a shower afterwards and getting ready to run your errands. The hot water feels amazing on your skin and once again you take your time. You’re used to being in a rush when you get ready and it’s nice to just be.

Looking through your clothes, you choose a pair of black skinny jeans and a band tee. You complete the outfit with your black combat boots, the ones that have little metal hearts on the side. A lot of things have changed since you left town, but you still sure hasn’t.

When you decide that you’re ready go, you stop by the back porch to tell you mother that you’re heading out and telling her that you’ll see her later.

The late fall air feels crisp and you take a deep breath, simply enjoying it. The fresh air is definitely something you’ve missed about being home. The city is great in many ways, but the air quality certainly isn’t one of them. It’s also nice to step outside and not hear sirens and horns everywhere immediately.

There’s something peaceful about being able to feel the breeze and just walking in silence.

As you step off the front porch, you find yourself walking to your mother’s car out of habit. You had already decided to walk, though you have second thoughts when you remember that you’ll be carrying a bed set home.

You stand firm in your decision to walk, thinking that the walk could be the replacement for a gym trip that you totally would have gone on in the city. (That’s a lie. You hate the gym, but it sounds better in your head.)

As the slight breeze hits your back, you think about grabbing a jacket. If your back gets cold, you’re fucked, but you take the risk instead of trudging back inside. Plus, you remind yourself, the weather here is finicky and it could suddenly warm up and you could be sweating.

As you walk to the square, you feel as if you’re repeating the day before. Multiple people stop you, they obviously haven’t heard the gossip from the people that stopped you yesterday. Or they just want to see if they can get something else out of you, which is entirely possible.

As you make it to the center of town, the sidewalk traffic slows down and you breathe out a sigh of relief. You notice that the hardware store has barely changed, only the name is new. You glance through the window, the inside still looks exactly the same. There’s a little boy grinning and talking to anyone he see. The boy is the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. His little afro bouncing a little as he runs around.

Smiling softly at the image in front of you, you turn your head back to the sidewalk as you press on. Just past the hardware store is the pharmacy. It looks as if it hasn’t changed a bit and you are certain that an older version of the pharmacist sits inside behind the counter. You make a mental note, reminding yourself to stop and get your mom’s medication on your way back home. The thought of carrying medication around the home goods store makes you uncomfortable, so you feel resolute in your choice.

You lower your head as you pass the diner, not ready to be stopped yet. You still need to stop in and see Lou, but you think that you’ll do that tomorrow. The home goods store is a couple buildings down from the diner. It still baffles you that this town has such a large store, though it wouldn’t be considered large by most people’s standards, and you’re kind of shocked it has lasted as long as it has.

The bell dings as you open the door and you cringe slightly, hoping no one notices that it’s you who walked through the door. You walk down the main aisle, looking at the signs on the edges of side aisles trying to find the bedding aisle. Honestly, you don’t have high hopes about the selection they’ll have, but you guess anything is better than the zebra print monstrosity that is on your bed currently. You finally find the bedding aisle and you are pleasantly surprised to see both sides of the aisle are full of options. You look over the choices in front of you, realizing that you were correct. Most of the options are different brands of the same plain sets. When you resign yourself to having to get a plain white set, you find something that perfectly suits your taste. It’s black in color and has a large sun with smaller stars and moons floating around randomly on the rest of the comforter. You discretely jump in happiness when you see that they have one queen sized set left and you quickly snatch it up and make your way to the register, remembering half way there to grab some new body wash and basic necessities. Luckily, the store is fairly empty and you don’t recognize the young girl at the counter, so you feel relief at someone probably not knowing you. You’re very glad to know that your assumption was correct, the girl barely pays attention to you and you’re able to quickly pay and leave.

As you carry the bedding, you groan internally, annoyed at yourself for not stopping at the pharmacy before you went to the home goods store. The bedding is slipping from your hand and the angle is awkward. This is not one of your best decisions.

'Mistakes have been made. '

Readjusting you grip on the bedding, you pick up you pace, doing your best to make it to the pharmacy as quickly as possible. As you turn towards the door of the pharmacy, you let out a groan when you realize that you going to have a time getting this open with your hands full.

Resigning yourself to the fact that you’re going to have to put the bedding down to open the door, you’re surprised when a hand and a soft “Let me,” comes from your right. You turn your head and you have to hold in your gasp gasp.

An absolutely beautiful man is smiling a bright smile, briefly reminding you of the boy you saw earlier through the window of the hardware store. His black hair is pushed back off of his forehead and you have the thought that you want to run your hands through it.

His shoulders are broad, but his waist is tiny. He’s gorgeous.

He pulls the door open, gesturing with left hand in an “after you” motion. You smile, slightly shyly which is very unlike you, and thank him. He holds the door open for you before he steps inside him self. “You’re welcome,” he replies. “Just couldn’t stand to see a pretty lady struggling,” he adds, giving you a smile and a nod, turning while you continue straight toward the counter.

A friendly older man smiles as he asks you what he can help you with. You were right when you guessed it was the same man that worked here before you left. People tend to stick to the same thing forever in small towns.

You give him your mother’s name and tell him that you are her daughter and are here to pick up her medication. He gives you a nod and steps away to locate the medication. You quickly set the bedding down, giving your arm a stretch so it doesn’t get stiff.

The pharmacist comes back with the medication for your mother and gives you the total of the purchase. You pays pausing to ask him a few questions about the medication before you grab your things and head toward the door. You notice the man from earlier standing in front of the vitamins, looking a little confused.

You step forward, voice not too loud to scare the man. “You need any help there?” He startles a little and you chuckle a little and apologize, telling him that he just looked like he was confused. He laughs shyly, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. “I-uh, came to get my son’s vitamins, but they’re out of the ones I usually buy. I’m trying to find a suitable substitute.”

You give him a firm nod turning to look at the options. You asks him what kind he normally gets and he tells you the brand. You scan the shelf, unaware of the eyes on the side of your face, before making a small “aha” and setting your bedding down again and reaching out to grab a bottle.

“These are just as beneficial as the ones you normally get, but they’re cheaper. Plus, they’re gummies so he’ll probably like them more,” you explain as you hand him the bottle. He smiles widely at you and you can feel your breath catching again as he thanks you.

“No need for thanks. Just returning the favor.” He gives you another big smile and follows you to the door, opening it again so you can step outside. You thank him and tell him to have a good day as he turns back around to pay.

The rest of your trip home is without incident, much to your relief. You walk through your mother’s door and call out. “Mom! I’m back!” You take your things upstairs to drop your things off in your room. You go back downstairs to find your mother. She asks about you day and you decide to bring up her medication as you hand it to her.

“Momma, why didn’t you tell me things were so bad. Mr. Jones told me a bit about these medications. Antidepressants, medicine for chronic sinus issues and face pain, and pain medication for your feet.” You watch her face as she processes what you’ve said, not pushing her to answer you immediately. You want her to be able to take her time.

After a moment or two, she speaks. “I’ve been handling things the best I could. You had your own life and I didn’t want to worry you more than necessary.” Your eyes begin to water and you hug her, apologizing for not being around more.

“Oh dear, I’m not upset with you for growing up and going on your own path. But I sure am glad to have you home.” The two of you stand in each others arms for a bit longer.

You think it’s finally time to break the news to her mother that you and Joshua are no longer together and the reasoning behind your breakup.” Mom, Josh and I aren’t together anymore. I found him with another woman a week or so before I came back.”

She tilts her head and pulls you back into her arms, asking if you’re ok. You softly tell her mother that you’re ok, still hurt, but ok. You mother suggests that the two of you cook together and watch another movie and you smile and agree.

After eating and watching the movie, you had decided to watch Ma and Pa Kettle, an old favorite of yours, you help your mother to bed and change your bedding. You take a look at what feels like a brand new bed, beyond pleased to have the god awful zebra atrocity gone from sight.

You check your email before bed, noticing an email from Joshua. You delete it without even reading it, not even thinking twice about it. You order yourself a new phone, already tired of not having one and climb into bed.

You wake up earlier than you did the day before and go through the routine of brushing your teeth, showering, and having breakfast and coffee with you mom. You definitely picked up your coffee addiction from her.

“Just a reminder that I’m going to the hardware store today. Gotta get started on fixing this kitchen.” She nods telling you to take the car today, and you agree with a laugh, telling her that you had already planned on it. “Are you dead set on these white cabinets?” Your mom smiles softly.

“The kitchen is your project, my baby. You do whatever you want with it. The house will be yours eventually, might as well have it the way you like it.” You smile despite the painful thought that one day your mother won’t be here. “Besides, you did always talk about designing the perfect kitchen.”

You give her a wide smile, glad she remembers how much you always talked about designing the kitchen in your future home. You tells her that you will see her later as you grab the keys to the car and steps outside.

You hear laughter from the lawn of the house next door and turn to see a little boy running to the car in the driveway, and a man hunched down chasing him, wiggling his fingers like he’s going to tickle the boy. The sight warms your heart and you briefly think that they look familiar. You smile to yourself and makes your way to the car.

You park the car in the small lot in front of the hardware store, sitting for a moment before getting out and stepping to the door of the building. Pulling on the handle, you find that the door won’t open. You check the hours on the front of the glass, it says that the store should be open by now. You heave a sigh, something that has become quite common lately, and turn to head back to the car.

“Are you trying to get into the hardware store?” A voice comes from behind you. You turn to find the man from the pharmacy the day before, a set of keys in one hand and the hand of a small boy in the other. You give him a smile and nod, waving at the boy. You bend down a little.

“Well, hello there.” The boy smiles and waves back. “I’m so sorry. Normally, I’d have opened up by now, but a certain little boy didn’t want to get out of bed this morning.” As he finishes his sentence, his eyes flicker down to the boy, who is still wearing his bright smile.

You laugh and tells him that you understand and there are still some days where you don’t want to get out of bed. The man laughs his beautiful laugh again and opens the door, making the same motion with his hand as he did the day before.

Once you get into the store, the man snaps and makes an oh sound. You jump a little and look at him with a confused look. “This is the second time we’ve met and I still haven’t introduced myself. I’m San and this is my store.” He’s wearing a small smirk as he speaks.

You give him your name back, trying not to let your tummy flutter when he says that it is a pretty name. You squat down to the boy, making sure you’re face to face. “And what is your name, cutie?”

He gives you a big smile. “I’m Mason Choi and I’m four.” He holds up four fingers as he speaks. “My address is--”

“Ok, buddy, you don’t have to tell her all of that,” San interrupts with a breathy laugh, causing you to giggle along with him. You stand back up to full height, asking San where you can find the paint, and he points you in the right direction before you both go your separate ways.

You browse the paint aisle, taking your time looking through the colors. You aren’t sure you’ll be able to pick one for certain, but you know she’ll be taking home some swatches. You spend a few minutes thinking about the overall theme you want for the kitchen, trying to think about what would go best with what you have in mind. you gets a memory of what she wanted to do as a child, softly smiling at where your thoughts have drifted.

“You must really like that color.”

A voice comes from you left, a laugh following. You turn to find San there, giving you a smirk. You laugh softly and tell him that you were just thinking about a childhood memory. “When I was little, I wanted to design my mom’s kitchen. When she asked me what I wanted to do with it, I had a solid plan. Bubblegum colored walls, with white paint dripping down and splats of bright colors randomly placed around. I wanted the walls to look like ice cream.”

He gives a big laugh and you feel your insides churn again, internally cursing yourself. “What even brought that to mind?”

You tell him that you’re here to pick out paint, but you needed to think of a theme first.. He nods his head as if telling her to continue. You tell him that you current pet project is to redo the kitchen and that it’s in desperate need of a remodel.

“Do you plan to paint first?” His question isn’t judging, merely asking as if he’s trying to help. You think for a moment before shaking your head. “I should probably replace the cabinets and counters first, a slight blush coming to the surface of your cheeks.

You should have thought of that. And why are you blushing? You don’t blush. What is going on?

“In that case, you’re probably going to want to look into what kind of style you want the cabinets you want. There’s many different styles. Same goes for the counters. So many different patterns for counter tops.”

He pauses for a moment, allowing you nod to let him know that you are paying attention. Honestly, you don’t think you could pull your attention away from him.

“Now, I don’t have pre built cabinets here, but I’m sure I could track down a catalog somewhere that you can look through.” You give him a shake of your head, telling him that he doesn’t have to go through that much trouble, you could just do a search online. He gives you a sideways smile, telling you that he’s going to do it anyway. The smile is so fucking adorable that it has you smiling with him.

“So, are you going to be doing this yourself or is your dad or boyfriend helping?” The mention of both your dad and a boyfriend makes your smile fall and your body stiffen a little.

“No, it’ll just be me.” He gives you a shallow nod, his smile falling slightly too. He quickly recovers, though, keeping his cheerful mood. “If you need any help, please just ask. I don’t mind helping at all.” You smile and tell him that you will definitely keep that in mind.

Mason runs up to San, telling him that someone has come into the store asking for him. San bends down and thanks his son with a kiss on the cheek and stands to take his hand. “If you need help with anything, just let me know.” You tell that you will and he gives you a wink as he heads to the front of the store.

You look at paint swatches for a while longer, lost in thought. Your stomach eventually begins to rumble and you make the decision to finally brave the diner. You make you way back to the door, throwing San and Mason a smile and a wave before leaving.

You walk to the diner, stopping to take a deep breath before making you way in front of the windows and to the door.

Pulling the door open, you’re hit with the smell of greasy burgers and fries and you sigh, suddenly overcome with a homey feeling. The diner holds many memories, both good and bad, and you figure it’s time to face them head on.

You slide into the booth in the back, it was always your favorite. You glances down, seeing the menu on the table, knowing that you don’t even have to look at it to know what you want.

A middle aged woman comes up to you and asks if you’re ready and you nod. You go with your favorite, a bacon cheese burger with extra pickles and a tea. Lou makes the best burgers. Before the waitress can leave, you ask her to tell Lou that it’s Y/N. The lady gives you a confused look before nodding and walking off to the kitchen.

You can hear the waitress yell Lou’s name before her voice lowers. You smirk slightly, counting down in you head. Only a second later, a tall man with a big belly comes barreling out of the kitchen area, throwing his apron on the counter.

You stand up from the booth, waiting beside it as the man makes his way to you. Lou greets you with a hug, telling you that he’s missed his best waitress. You laugh at his antics.

“Lou, I never actually worked for you.”

He brushes you off with a wave of his hand and asks how you’ve been. You tell him that you’ve been better, but you’ve also been worse. He gives you a sigh and a nod.

“You’ve always been so quiet about how you actually feel. Come on and tell Big Lou what’s going on.” You sit down, motioning for him to sit across from you. He holds his finger up in a hold on signal and walks back to the kitchen. You smile as he walks away, thinking back on your time knowing the gentle giant.

Lou has owned the diner for as long as you can remember, though you knows that it can’t be as long as it feels since the man is in his late 40s. He’s a man that looks gruff and unfriendly, but once you really get to know him, he’s a great person to have in your life.

Lou has always been your group of friends’ confidant in a sense, always listening, never talking unless asked. With you in particular, he always dragged what was wrong out of you. When you first boyfriend broke up with you, you went to the diner, obviously upset but refusing to talk about it. Lou told you that if you were going to sit and mope, could you at least take an order to a customer since he was short staffed.

You remember that you had looked at him like he was a crazy man and he just gave you a toothy grin. That had made you smile as well and you grabbed the plate and took it to the customer. That had started the tradition of you coming to the diner when you were sad and Lou giving you things to do to take your mind off of it. He always paid you out of the money out of the register, even though you told him that he didn’t have to. You always ended up telling him what was wrong and he always gave the best advice. It was an unusual friendship, but one you greatly treasured.

You’re shaken out of your thoughts by Lou sliding into the booth, your burger on a plate in one hand and a plate full of cheese fries in the other. “Lou, I didn’t order cheese fries,” your voice is teasing. He just tells you to hush and eat you food. You laugh a big laugh and start to dig in.

“Alright Peanut, spill the beans.”

You take a breath and repeat the story of your relationship with Joshua. You vent about your mother’s health and how you’re worried about her. You talk about the kitchen remodel. For the first time since your father’s death, you talk about it and how you handled it when it happened and how you’re handling it now. You mention your thoughts of going into his study, but you just can’t bring yourself to do it.

By the time you’ve finished spilling your guts to Lou, you’ve finished your burger and are starting to work on the fries. You flick your eyes up to Lou’s face, trying to gauge his reaction to the spew of information you’ve given him. His eyebrows are furrowed, obviously deep in thought. You stare at him for a moment, waiting patiently. He takes a deep breath, releasing it slowly. He looks at you with a serious expression before opening his mouth.

“So, you looking for a job?”

The question makes you burst out laughing, the first whole hearted laugh you’ve had since finding out Joshua was cheating on you, probably since you lost your father. You laugh until your stomach hurts and you have tears gathering in her eyes. Lou reaches across the table to pat you on the hand.

“You’re a strong woman and you’re gonna get through all of this and come out stronger on the other side. Now, what is this boy’s name and where does he live. It’s for science.”

You give his hand a slight slap and tell him to get back to work. He stands and gives you another hug and you move to go pay for you food. Lou moves in front of the register, shaking his head and pointing to the door. You giggle and shake your head, knowing this is a fight you won’t win and leave. As you reach the door, you hear Lou call your name. You turn back to face him, an eyebrow raised.

“Go into the room, Peanut.”

Deciding to head back home, it’s been hours since you left that morning and it’s well after lunch time, you make you way back to the hardware store to grab your mother’s car, noticing San’s car is gone.

You wonder if he is only open a few hours a day, but quickly dismiss the thought, deciding that it’s none of your business and continue on your way back home.

Turning into the driveway, you hear laughing from next door again, thinking that you’re glad your new neighbors are so cheerful. You hear a small voice calling your name and you turn to see Mason smiling wide and frantically waving.

You says his name with as much enthusiasm as he had said yours and start waving just as frantically. San stands in the background smiling at the two of you just standing in the middle of your yards just waving like crazy people. He steps forward with a “howdy neighbor” and you laugh and say hello.

San gives you a wink, saying that it looks like you’ll will be seeing each other a lot and you laugh and agree. Mason cuts in and asks if he and San can go have their lunch now, and San agrees, picking him up and saying goodbye to you before heading inside. You watch as they walk through their door, thinking that this man and his flirtatious nature are going to be problem.

Not entirely an unwelcome problem, but a problem regardless.

You step through you own door, calling out to your mother. You hear her voice coming from the back porch and you slip your shoes off and walk toward the back of the house. Your mother asks how your day has been, and you tell her about your time at the hardware store and lunch with Lou. She gives you a smile, telling you that she’s glad that you met with Lou, and saying that he always asks about you.

“I met the new neighbor, he also owns the hardware store.”

Your mother huffs out a laugh. “Yes, I know, dear. It is a small town after all.” You roll her eyes with a laugh. You mention San telling you that he would see if he could find a catalog with cabinets for you to look at, and your mother hums and nods, asking if you have figured out what you want to do with the kitchen. You shake your head. “San brought that up too, but I need to think about it for a bit. I’m gonna go look at the kitchen and see if something comes to me.”

You walk into the kitchen, glancing around while in thought. You do your best to envision what you want the kitchen to look like. After standing around just looking at the cabinets, it hits you. You look around, picturing what you want. You wanted dark gray cabinets with silver handles.

As you look around, the thought of making a little nook comes to your mind. Cabinets and drawers on the bottom, a counter, the area is boxed in, like a little alcove. On the very top, you envision putting potted plants. Your vision is sort of a forest-y vibe.

Smiling to yourself, you turn around and makes you way back to your mother. Before you leave the room, you make yourself a cup of coffee.

When you get back to your mother, you tell her about your idea for the kitchen and she gives you a smile and tells you that she loves it. You notice your mother getting tired and you offer her your arm and tell her she should take a nap.

She immediately disagrees, but you insist and tell her that you will make dinner and wake her up when it’s ready. Huffing, your mother relents and grabs your arm and pulls herself up. You helps her to her room and tell her to have a good nap and leave her room.

You stand outside of the door, looking at the door to your father’s study. Lou’s words float through your mind and you take a hesitant step forward. You step until you have your hand on the knob, but you quickly let go and turn around and head to your room to grab your laptop before going back downstairs.

Feeling like it’s a bit early to start on dinner, also knowing that your mother needs a nice nap, you grab yourself another cup of coffee, deciding to sit on the front porch this time. You tell yourself that it definitely isn’t with the hopes of seeing San, you just want a change.

You grab one of the wicker bucket chairs on the front porch, sitting in it with your laptop on your lap and your coffee on the small table to your left.

Opening your email, you find two more emails from Joshua. Taking a deep breath, you open the first one. You know that this is the first step in healing and moving on. The email is exactly what you expected it to be. Josh says he’s sorry and that he does love you and he wishes you would email him back.

You close out of the email, still feeling hurt, but not as bad as you had expected. Before you can open the second email, a voice calls out to you making you look up to see San.

“You’re drinking coffee this late in the afternoon?” he asks. You let a little giggle follow. “It’s never too late for coffee.” You have a teasing glint in your eye as you respond. “I think that I have to respectfully disagree.”

The two of you talk for a while, before you remember your vision for the kitchen. You tell San that you have an idea and he tilts his head and motions for you to continue.

You tell him about how you wants everything to look and he nods as you talks. After you finish, he tells you that it sounds like a really neat idea and he will look around for that catalog. You thank him and ask where Mason is. He tells you that he’s down for a nap.

“I know it’s a bit late for a nap, but I never let him sleep too long or he’ll be up all night.” You laugh and tell that him you couldn’t even imagine what it’s like to deal with a toddler that’s wide awake at three am and San laughs with you. You bite you lip and ask if his mother is watching him while he’s down. San stiffens a little, shakes his head. “No. It’s just me and Mason.” You remember you mother mentioning that he was a single father so you aren’t sure why you even asked.

“Oh God, I’m sorry. That was none of my business.” San assures you that it’s fine and that he and Mason are doing well on their own.

“It looks like it. From what little I’ve seen, you seem like a great dad.” He blushes a little and thanks you. You giggle at his sudden shyness and tell him that it’s not a problem. He checks the time on his phone.

“I better wake the little guy up.” You nod and he gives you a smile and turns to head back to his yard. You stop his movement with a call of his name and he turns to face you.

“Would you two want to join my mom and I for dinner? Think of it as a belated welcome to the neighborhood celebration.” San gives you a large smile. “I’ll ask Mason, though I’m positive he will agree. It would seem that he has already taken a liking to you.”

You giggle and tell him that you’ve taken a liking to Mason too. “If you guys decided to come, just knock on the door. It should be ready in a couple of hours.” He nods back at you and you end the conversation by telling him that you’ll make sure there’s more than coffee to drink and you open the door and step inside, San’s beautiful laughter ringing out behind you. You gently wake your mother, telling her that you have invited San and his son for dinner.

By the time dinner is ready and you take a shower, there’s a knock at the door. Since you’re already right by the door, you open it to find San and Mason smiling at you. Your eyes wander over San. 'Damn he looks good.' He's dressed casually in some jeans and a black tee while Mason is wearing sweatpants and a dinosaur shirt.

You squat down to the child's level. “Wow,” you say looking at the dinosaur on his shirt. “I love your shirt!” Mason smiles up at his dad before looking back at you. “What's your favoritest dinosaur?” you ask.

“Raptor!” he enthusiastically answers, even going as far to try to make a raptor noise. You give him a laugh. “Well, my favorite dinosaur is a Spinosaurus, but I don’t even know what they sound like!” you said, sounding impressed. “You sound like you know more about dinosaurs that I do.” Mason nods.

“I’m a dinosaur expert!”

His enthusiasm warms your heart and you stand, inviting them to come inside.

You show them the way to the kitchen. “Ma, this is San,” you say, formally introducing them. San smiles, stepping forward to shake her hand. “It's nice to officially meet you,” he says as Mason steps forward to proudly introduce himself before you could.

“And I'm Mason!”

Your mother smiles at him. “That's a lovely name, Mason. It's nice to meet you.” Mason thanks her with a smile which she returns before offering San two plates and asks him what they would like to drink.

“Just water is fine.” He makes Mason’s plate and gets him set up at the table before making his own. “Mom go ahead and sit down,” you say as you make her plate and place it front of her before you make your own.

You take the seat next to your mother, San is sitting to your other side. You all chat idly, talking about nothing in particular. San brings up the kitchen remodels and you perk up and start pointing and showing San where you wants the little alcove to go, not noticing your mother watching on fondly.

San listens before offering once again to help you, telling you that he can even draw up your idea for you to see before you starts on it. You give him a nod as your mother asks if he’s an artist and he laughs while shaking his head.

“No ma’am. Before having Mason I was in school studying to be an architect.” Your mother tells him that that is a good field. “If Y/N won’t accept your offer to help, I certainly will. If I left everything to her, this kitchen would be torn apart for months.”

Your cheeks burn, again with the blushing, telling you mother to hush with a slight slap to her shoulder. You all finish dinner, San offering to help clean up but you tell him absolutely not and that he should get Mason home since he’s falling asleep on your mother’s shoulder.

“You have a good point there,” he says while looking fondly at his son.

“I'll walk you out,” you announce before walking them to the door, San holding Mason. “Have a good night,” you say softly as San crossed the threshold. "You, too,” he says just as quietly.

“And thank you for dinner.”

“I'll have that drawing for your kitchen done soon,” he adds with a smile. You thank him and watch as they walk next door.

A few days later, you wake to your mother knocking on you door. You tell her to come in, rolling on to your side to face the door. Your mother smiles before coming to sit on the edge of your bed, running a hand through your hair. You hum in content, asking her mother what’s up.

“The rest of your things are here. The van is waiting outside. You also got a package this morning. I sat it on the table by the couch,” she says fondly as she smiles down at you.

She leaves and you quickly get dressed and brush your teeth, not wanting to keep the moving van waiting any longer. You step out of the door, greeting the man waiting by the van. He greets you back, opening the back of the van revealing a few boxes. You thank him and you start to help him unload the van.

“You need any help?”

You turn to see San standing not too far away, arms crossed as he leans on Mason’s swing set. “Yes please!”

Once all of the boxes are out of the van, you pay the driver his tip and the man leaves. San lifts a box and asks you where to take it. You momentarily get lost in admiring the way his arms flex as he grips the box before shaking you head and giving him directions to your bedroom. You take a box and follow him.

“You can just set it on the floor at the end of the bed,” you instruct and he does as you ask before you both move to get more boxes.

Once all of the boxes have been put in you room, you offer him some water and he accepts. As you makes her way to the kitchen, he tells you that he will be right back. You watch as he walks out the front door, not being able to stop yourself for look at his ass as he walks away and continue into the kitchen to get his glass of water ready.

San returns soon with a baby monitor and a piece of paper in his hands. “Mason is asleep and I should still be in range to hear him if he wakes up.” He lifts the monitor as he speaks. He hands you the piece of paper and you take it, looking a little confused.

Looking at it, it’s the design of the kitchen. You're happy that it looks exactly like what you pictured. You smile at him. “San it’s perfect! You’re really talented!” The tips of his ears turn slightly red, causing you to giggle softly.

You suddenly remember the package you mother told you about and perk up, telling San that you’ll be right back as you go to get it. You bring it back into the kitchen, setting it on the table and telling San he can sit if he wants. He joins you at the table, making sure to set his glass on a coaster.

You grab a knife and open the package carefully. Once you gets it open, you pull out her new phone. You sigh in relief, going as far as to kiss the box. San laughs from across from you.

“I haven’t had a phone for a while and I’m so glad to have one again.” He asks if you broke your or something, and you go quiet for a moment. “No, I didn’t break it. I left it with my ex boyfriend when I left him.”

“I'm so sorry,” San immediately apologizes. “I didn't mean to pry.”

You brush his apology off, telling him that it’s ok and that it’s been a little rough, but you’ll be ok.

“Do you mind if I ask what happened?” he asks and you nod.

“Joshua and I were together for two years when my dad died. I didn’t handle his death well and closed myself off,” you start to explain, San listening patiently. “And then when my mother’s health got worse, I went to his office to tell him that I would be coming back home for a little while to help get her situated,” you continue, hesitating as you reach the catalyst for your leaving.

“I found him and his assistant... together,” you continue, not noticing the way San's expression shifted. “Apparently, Josh couldn’t handle me being so down and unavailable so he found someone who was,” the last part comes out a little bitterly but you are beyond caring.

You had been fiddling with your phone the entire time you talk, trying to get it up and running. After you finish talking, you look up to see San’s jaw clenched and a serious look on his face. “I’m so sorry that happened to you. You don’t deserve that shit. You deserve a hell of a lot better than that.” You tell him that it’s ok and thank him, ending in a small cheer when you get your phone ready to go.

You sit in silence for a moment before you look up at San.

“Could I ask you something?” San looks up at you and nods.

“Where's Mason’s mom?”

You notice how San stiffens a little but he relaxes. “So, I moved from Korea to study abroad. I told you already, but I was majoring in architecture and I was very excited to start my new life here,” he starts to explain.

“I met Anora in one of my classes and we really hit it off and started dating. After a year and a half, we found out she was pregnant.” You could hear it in his voice, the way he spoke about his son with such adoration.

“I was thrilled, but Anora was far from happy. Even though she really didn’t want to have Mason, but she stayed.” You can hear the sadness in his voice. “She decided after four years that being a mother wasn’t the life she wanted and she left right before his fourth birthday, almost a year ago.”

You felt your heart break for them. San sighs and continues. “I just felt like we needed a new start so I bought the store and the house and here we are,” he finishes his story to your stunned silence.

You stay silent for a moment before apologizing. “So, how is Mason handling all of this?” Your voice is soft and a little hesitant. San makes a face before answering. “He’s handling it well. Even when Anora was around, it was still pretty much the two of us. I stayed with her, hoping I could get her to fully accept Mason, but that was useless.”

You apologize again and San tells you that it’s ok. “Honestly, I feel like we're better off.” You nod in agreement. “I think can agree with that. I said it before, but you’re doing an amazing job at being a dad. Mason is a very lucky kid.” San smiles, looking down at his hands resting on the table. “Thank you,” he says. “I really appreciates that.”

“You're welcome,” you reply and without thinking, you reach across the table to give his hand a squeeze. There’s a beat of silence before you take your hand back and San clears his throat and nods his head toward your phone.

“So, do I get to be the first person to get your new number?” You laugh and nod, taking his phone to type your number into his phone. After you exchange numbers, San pockets his device and looks up.

“I should probably get back to Mason, even though I haven’t heard a peep from the baby monitor.” You walk him to the door, thanking him for helping with the boxes.

“Really,” he starts. “It's no trouble. We're neighbors after all. And isn't that are neighbors for?” he adds with a wink.

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Over the next month or so, San helps you get what's needed for the remodel, at a discount even though yourefused, and on weekends thetwo of get to work in the kitchen while Mason plays around with your mother. Mason's presence in your lives seems to brighten her mother's days and you have become very fond of the boy yourself.

San is a complicated story. You’re also very fond of him, perhaps too fond you think sometimes, and he seems to be equally fond of you. When you aren't talking in person, you’re texting. You’ve spent every weekend for a month working on the kitchen, often times working close together.

San teaches you the basics, even though you already know them but he doesn't need to know that. He's even taught you about how to get the grooves you want in the wood on the side of the arch way of the alcove. The fact that he stood behind you, chest to you back, to show you flustered you a bit. (But we don’t really need to talk about that. Nope. No need to talk about how you could feel the hard planes of his chest against your back. Not at all.)

By the time the kitchen is finished, it's the middle December with Christmas just around the corner. You stand in the entrance of the kitchen with San, looking around at the space the two of you have created. You’re absolutely in love with it.

“San I love it. Thank you so much!” You wrap your arms around his neck in a hug, surprising him. He just stands there for a few seconds before wrapping his arms around you in return, giving you a squeeze. He slightly buries his face in your neck. “There’s no need to thank me. I really enjoyed doing this with you.” His breath on you neck makes a shiver run down your spine, but you try your best not to let it show.

You separate, slowly, and look at each other for a moment before a squeal interrupts your moment. Mason comes running into the kitchen, crashing into you and hugging your legs. You laugh as you stumble a bit and bend down to give the boy a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

You don’t see the way San's eyes shine as he watches you with his son, happy you’ve clicked so well. Mason directs his attention to San “Daddy did you ask her yet?” . San shakes his head, a slight blush on his cheeks as you quirks an eyebrow up. “So the Christmas festival is next Saturday. Would you like to come with us?” You eagerly nod your head, gaining a smile from San and a giddy squeal from his son.

Your week is filled with emails for work. Joshua still sends you emails, but you rarely open them, more often than not, completely ignoring their existence. Not because you’re still hurt, you’ve moved on, but because you genuinely do not care to know what he has to say.

Though, a particular subject line draws your attention.

An email sent the day before. “See you soon” and you quickly click the email, reading it in a slight panic. Joshua goes on about he misses you and he just wants you to talk to him and that he’ll be coming to see you that upcoming weekend, the same weekend as a date you'd set up with San.

Your first thought is to go to the diner to talk to Lou.

You quickly put your shoes on, opting to drive to get there faster. You pull in to the diner parking, rushing to get inside.

“Lou!” Your voice is louder than you meant for it to be, but you don’t pay any mind to it. You notice how they diners enjoying their food look at you, but at this moment you really don’t care. Lou comes out of the kitchen, looking a little annoyed at someone yelling in the diner. His face changes as soon as he sees you and the panicked look on your face. He quickly discards his apron, yelling into the kitchen that he'll be back soon and ushers you to your booth in the back.

He asks you what's wrong, trying to keep the worry in his voice unnoticeable. “I got an email from Joshua,” you rush to explain. “It said that he was coming here this weekend. Before you even ask, I’m not worried I’m going to go back to him. I’m over that part of my life and I have moved on from him, it's just...” You pause and Lou takes the opportunity to finish for you.

“You really like San and don’t want Joshua to ruin anything before it can really start.” You nod, knowing that coming to Lou was the right choice. “I’m going to the festival with San and Mason on Saturday.” You know that you’re wearing a massive smile, but you have no embarrassment about it. Lou smiles back and you.

“Have you told him about Joshua yet?” His question throw you off a little, even though you should have known he’d ask. “I’ve told him that Joshua is my ex and how things ended between.” Lou nods for a moment.

“And the email?”

You shake your head. “I saw the email and came straight to you.” He smiles widely and you can tell that your confession has made him happy. “Peanut, you’re a smart woman. You know what you need to do.” You nod, knowing that he’s right. He usually is, it’s why you come to him. You thank him with a hug and leave, deciding to walk to the hardware store to talk to San.

The bell dings as you walk in, and Mason yells your name and runs up to you. You smile down at him, picking him up and giving him a kiss on the cheek before asking where his dad is. He wraps one arm around your neck and points with the other, telling you that San is on the paint aisle.

You thank him with another kiss on the cheek as you set him down. You make your way to San, feeling a little nervous as you watch him look through paint swatches. “San.” You try to keep your voice from wavering, but you aren’t sure you succeed.

He turns to face you, his face breaking out in a wide smile. “I was looking at swatches, trying to decide what color would go best with the kitchen.” You can feel yourself smile, despite the anxiety flowing through your body.

“We need to talk,” you start, internally cursing yourself as you see a flash of panic cross San's face. “It's not like that!” you continue quickly. “But it is important.” San nods, searching your face, no doubt noticing how serious you look. “Okay,” he nods slowly as he leads you to his office while he calls out to Mason to tell him to go into the break room and play so he knows where he is.

“You can sit there if you want.” He points to the chair in front of his desk as he moves behind the desk, grabbing the chair there and bringing it to sit beside you, facing you. “What’s wrong?”

You take a deep breathe before speaking, trying to calm your nerves. “I was looking at my email today and when I noticed an email from Joshua.” You can see his jaw tense, but he says nothing, letting you continue. “He’s coming here this weekend.” Your voice drops in volume, almost sounding small.

San is quiet for a moment, seemingly in deep thought. When he finally speaks, his voice is quiet, matching the feel of your small voice. “Do you still love him? Are you planning to leave and go back with him?”

You feel sad that the thought even crosses his mind. You obviously haven’t been as clear showing your feelings as you thought you were. “No. I really like you, San and I don’t plan to leave. There was a time in my life when I wanted to escape this town, but I don’t want to do that anymore.”

You can see him visibly relax as he breathes put a sigh of relief and telling you that he feels the same and that you can deal with Joshua’s visit together if you wants or he can let you handle it. You don’t say anything, only thanking him with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, telling him that you should head back home.

The closer it gets to Christmas, the stronger the urge to go into your father’s study gets. You talk to San about it as you text and he tells you that it's ok to still need time, but it's also ok to want to go into your father’s favorite place. He once again offers his help, telling you can be there for moral support if you needs and though you don’t tell him, you think that San is a great man and thank him.

Saturday comes quick and even though you’re anxious about Joshua’s arrival, you’re also excited about spending the evening with San and Mason. By dusk, Joshua still hasn't arrived and you hope that maybe he has changed his mind. You gets ready for the festival, deciding to wear jeans and a sweater.

A knock on the door has you almost sprinting down the stairs your thoughts swirling. You feel like a teenager waiting for her prom date. Opening the door to find San and Mason both giving you big smiles, you smile back and give them both hugs, unintentionally hugging San a little harder. “You ready?” San’s voice is light and cheerful and it makes your heart flutter. You give a nod and call out to your mother, letting her know that you’re leaving.

The festival is simple, a few decorations and booths with games and food trucks. Of course Lou has a stand with all of his best dishes and hot cocoa and coffee. The three of you stop by and you give Lou a hug, thanking him again in a whisper. He squeezes you in return, his way of telling you that you don’t need to thank him.

You grab a cup of coffee as San grabs both him and Mason a cup of cocoa each. As you reach into your wallet, preparing to pay, you notice San moving quickly to hand Lou money. Lou scoffs and tells him that there’s no way he’s letting them pay. You both try to argue, but Lou shuts you both down with his trademark eyebrow raise.

After getting your drinks, you walk around the festival a bit, stopping to play games when Mason finds one he wants to try out. By try out, he means that San has to play and try to win the toy Mason wants.

You hear your phone going off and you’re quick to grab it in case your mother needs you. You do find a text from you mom.

Mama: Honey, Joshua just came by looking for you. I didn't tell him where you were but just be on the lookout for him

Your breath catches, drawing San’s attention and you show him the message instead of speaking, not wanting to clue Mason in that there is a problem. All San does is grab your hand and gives it a tight squeeze before he wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer with a kiss on the top of your head.

You walk around a bit more, stopping to get Mason a corn dog when you hear your name being called. You stiffen. You knew that voice and would recognize it anywhere.

You're brought back to reality by San giving your shoulder a squeeze, silently letting you know that he’s there if you need him. The two of you turn around while Mason is preoccupied with his food and find Joshua standing and glaring at San.

San looks unfazed, other than the tightness in his jaw. Joshua steps forward, eye San before turning to look at you.

"Y/N, can we talk?” You notice how his eyes flicker over to San once more. "In private?” he adds.

You lean further into San's side, taking a deep breath and filling your nostrils with the scent of San’s cologne, which calms you a little.

“Whatever it is, you can say it say right here.”

Joshua narrows his eyes, heaving out a sigh before speaking.

“Fine,” he says softly. “You left me no choice. Since you refuse to answer my messages, I came here to see you.” You say nothing, letting him get it all out.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry, I’ll say it a million times if that’s what you want. I miss you so much. You’re all I can think about. Please let me make it up to you. I know I can do it if you’ll just let me.”

You stare at him for a moment, not saying anything. “No.” He looks taken aback and you take the opportunity to continue. “I don’t love you. I don’t hate you either. I don’t really feel anything for you. I’m happy where I am. I’m happy having San by my side.” San acknowledges you statement with a long kiss to you temple.

Joshua goes to take a step forward, only to be cut off by Lou. “I think the lady has said what she needs to say. It’s time for you to leave.” Joshua looks at you one more time, searching your face for any change of your mind before he begrudgingly leaves.

After the confrontation with Joshua, San decides that it's time for you to leave and he gathers Mason, who throws a tiny tantrum before listening to his father and taking his hand. You walk in silence for a moment, hands intertwined until San breaks the silence. “You ok?” You smile and squeezes his hand, looking into his eyes. “I’m great.”

When you get back to your house, you’ve accepted it as your home now and you’re proud to call it that, you ask San if he can help you with one more thing and he immediately agrees. You all enter the house, Mason immediately calling out to your mother.

“Nana! Where are you?” Both you and San freeze, eyes wide. This is the first time Mason has called your mother that. Your mother steps out of the kitchen, equally surprised, but she quickly schools her expression and opens her arms catching Mason in her arms as he jumps to her. You look at San, tying to gauge his reaction, only to find a soft smile on his face and he watches your mother with his son. You squeeze his hand and tilt you head toward the staircase and he follows you up the stairs.

You walk to the end of the hall, standing in front of the door of you father’s study. San kisses your temple before speaking. “Take your time, love. There’s no rush.” With one last deep breath, you turn the knob and open the door and you step inside while San waits in the opening of the door.

The room looks the same as it always has. Books are tucked neatly on the bookcase, your father’s large desk in the center of the room. You walks over to the desk, running your fingers over the top of the desk slowly.

There’s a thin layer of dust and it’s the first time you have every seen dust on the desk. Your father always kept his study perfectly clean. You look around at all of the pictures on the wall. There are pictures of your parents on their wedding day. A picture of your dad with his parents.

You notice a single frame on the desk and you carefully pick it up. It's a picture from the day you were born, your father holding you with a bright smile and tears in his eyes. Your own eyes start to teat up and you feel arms wrap around your waist from behind, San moving to prop his chin on her shoulder.

“It’s ok to cry if that’s what you need to do. I’m so proud of you for coming in here. That took a lot of strength. My strong girl.” Your stomach flips at him calling you his and you turn to kiss his check, San turning to face you at the same time and your lips meet The kiss is sweet and gentle, just barely there.

San turns to to face you completely, his hand coming up to cup you check before giving you another slow kiss as your arms wrap around him. The kiss only last a moment, Mason’s footsteps coming up the stairs making you pull apart.

He stops at the door of the study, quickly asking San if he can stay the night with Nana and San looks at you with a lustful glint in his eye. “If it’s ok with your Nana, I don’t mind.” The sound of San calling your mother Mason’s nana makes your heart skip a beat.

You follow Mason down the stairs, listening as he asks if he can stay the night. Your mother doesn’t even hesitate. “Of course you can, my little monster.” Mason laughs and hugs her legs with a squeal. She turns to you and San, immediately noticing your intertwined hands. She smiles at the two you and gives you a slight nod of her head.

San tugs on your hand gently, looking at you with both lust and care as he leads you out of the door and across the lawn to his front door. He quickly unlocks it, letting you go in first. As soon as he steps through the door, his lips are on yours and his arms are around you.

You fist his shirt, pulling him as close as you can get him. It feels like the two of you are kissing forever, like the only oxygen you need is each other’s breath. San’s hands slide down to your hips, pulling your further against him, moaning slightly when you bump into his already hardening cock.

He pulls away, eyes flickering between yours. “Do you want to go to my room?” You aren’t sure you’ve ever nodding so fast as you take his hand and follow him.

You're able to take a brief look around San’s room before his lips are back on yours. His kisses are soft, gentle as his hands slowly find your waist. He tugs you closer to him, it's obvious he can't seem to get you close enough. His hands slide down, firmly kneading your ass.

You moan against his mouth, giving him the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. He takes the chance he's been given, immediately deepening the kiss. His wet muscle dances with yours, slow and passionate. He steps forward, softly pushing you backwards until the backs of you legs hit his mattress, pushing you further back to lie flat.

He separates from you long enough for you to scoot until you're fully on his bed, him immediately climbing on top of you and connecting your lips again. One hand rests on your hip as his other cups your face. He pulls back, just far enough to speak against your lips.

“You're so pretty.” His voice is a whisper, but you still manage to hear him, and you give him a smile and peck his nose. “So are you.” He smiles, rubbing his nose against yours as his hands fall to the hem of your sweater.

“Can I?” You murder a soft ‘yes’ and he doesn't hesitate to lift it over your head. He stares at you in silence and you feel like you should be self conscious, but you aren't. You just let him admire you.

“Gorgeous.”

You aren't sure he meant for you to hear his words, so you don't say anything in return, just let out a whine, prompting him to snap out of his daze. He brings his hands up to cup your breasts over your bra, his touch firm but still soft. He looks up to your face, quirking an eyebrow up and you nod and sit up, allowing him to reach behind you and unclasp what's between him and your bare skin.

He flings the fabric over his shoulder, not even bothering to see where it lands. His hands come back to your chest, gripping you once more. San gives your nipples attention, pinching them in between his thumb and forefinger, causing you to arch your back with a soft moan. The sound of your pleasure makes him let out a moan himself, obviously enjoying that you're enjoying his actions.

Leaning down, he wraps his lips around one of your perked buds, his tongue immediately making its presence known with a flick. His hand continues to massage your other breast.

After a moment, he switches sides. “San. Please. Need you.” Your voice is in a quiet whine, as much as you enjoy what he's doing, your core throbs with need. He pulls back, releasing your nipple with a pop. His eyes are blown out with last, but his gaze is still soft and caring.

He slides his hands down your body, finding the button of your pants and flicking it open. He backs off the bed, immediately falling to his knees as he grabs your pants by the hem, slowly pulling them down.

The tension in the air is thick and you can tell that he's enjoying the teasing nature in which he undresses you. Your pants find the floor like your sweater and bra. His lips are on your ankle before you realize what is happening, slowly kissing up your leg.

He places a barely there kiss on your clothed core before kissing down your other leg, only to stick the tip of his tongue to your skin and lick his way back up to your hip. The unexpected action causes you to shiver with want, and you look down at San only to find him staring back at you with a smirk.

He grabs at your panties, continuing his slow pace in pulling them down. Part of you wishes he would hurry, but the greater part is enjoying the build up. Once your panties are off, he once again takes a moment to just look at you.

Slowly, he brings a finger to your core, sliding it from your hole up to your clit. You let out a soft moan, his groan coming not long after. “Look at that, baby. You're soaking. I've barely done anything, love. Is this all for me?” His words shoot a jolt through your body, causing your core to throb even harder.

“All for you, San. All yours.” Your words seem to spur him into action as he leans forward, his tongue making the same movement his finger had. Your moan is louder this time, his own moan right against your pussy has you bucking up into his face.

His hands find your thighs, wrapping around them to speak you open for him. He brings the tip of his tongue to circle your throbbing bud while your hand finds its way into his hair. He hums against you, his way of telling you that he approves of what you're doing and you give a slight tug. You can see his hips buck against the mattress, prompting you to give one more tug.

He dives into you, sliding his tongue up and down your pussy a few times before coming back to your clip for a brief moment before repeating. Your moans echo throughout the room as brings his finger to your entrance, sliding on in slowly. Your hips buck on their own as he pulls back out, a second finger joining as he slides back in.

His mouth is working hard against you and his fingers search for a moment before they find what he's looking for. A loud moan rips from your throat as he pushes against the spongy part inside of you. “Right there, baby?” You only manage a nod and he goes back to eating your can't, doubling his efforts as his fingers speed up. Your mind is swirling as your orgasm builds. No one has ever been able to work you up this quickly.

You're babbling now, vaguely aware of what you're saying. “Feels s'good. Please. Please.” He pulls back just enough to mumble against your core. “Come on, angel. Let go. Cum for me.” The vibrations against you coupled with his already fucked out voice causes the dam inside you to burst as you coat his fingers. He works you through your orgasm, fingers slowing down as your high fades. You look down to find him staring at you in awe. You mumble for him to climb back onto the bed and he immediately grants your wish.

Your hands move with purpose as you pull him to you, grabbing his shirt and ripping it from his body. Your breath catches as you look at the ridges and planes of his chest. He's well built, looking like a man cut from marble. “Fuck.” The words come out breathy and as you look back to his face, you can see a slight blush.

You place a soft kiss on his lips as you push him gently to lie on his back. He offers no resistance, letting you move him as you please. You spread his legs enough for you to fit in between his thighs as you bend down to kiss down his throat. He lets out a soft whine when your lips find his chest and you take the opportunity to give him a slight bite and his hips buck upwards. You can feel his hardened length against you and your core gushes with a fresh wave of wetness.

Your hands find his jeans, making quick work of getting them off of him, pulling his underdogs down with them. His cock hits his stomach and for a moment you're in awe. He's above average, but not huge. Long and thick, but you can't help but think that's it's the prettiest dick you've ever seen. His voice draws you out of your thoughts. “Baby. Please do something. I'm dying here.” You give him a slight chuckle, cupping his election with a gentle squeeze. His moan is load and oh so beautiful.

You scoot yourself down until your face meets his cock, your tongue peeking out to give his tip a kitten lick. This time he whines, obviously not able to take the slow treatment he had given you. You lick from his balls to his tip slowly, circling your tongue around the mushroom head of his cock.

Without missing a beat, your mouth engulfs his length, sliding down as far as you can take. Your hand wraps around what your mouth can't fit and you slowly start to bob your head. Just as yours had done, his hand finds your hair, giving a slight pull and you moan around him.

His hips buck again, causing his tip to hit the back of your throat and you hold back a gag. You let him slowly buck into your mouth as words tumble from his mouth. “Oh god. Fuck. So warm. Feels so good.” You pull off of his length as his thrusts get faster and he whines at the loss of contact.

You sit back up on your heels, watching the way his chest rises and falls heavily. You make eye contact as you speak, wanting to see his every reaction to your words.

“Condom?” He scrambles to his knees, reaching into the drawer of his bedside table and pull out a foil packet. He rips it open with his teeth, moving to place the rubber around himself. You stop him before he can, taking it from him and sliding it slowly down his length yourself. His groan comes from the back of his throat.

Once the condom is snug around his cock, you push him back down, climbing on top of him. You slide his cock up and down your pussy, getting him slick with your juices. On the slide back down, you push his tip into you.

Your moans come simultaneously, making a beautiful song of pleasure. His hands find your hips as you rotate them, letting your walls adjust. “Wait. Baby, give me a minute.” His eyebrows are furrowed as he pants. After a moment, he gives your hips a squeeze, letting you know that you can move.

Lifting your hips, you rise and fall back down slowly, enjoying the way he feels inside of you. You keep your pace slow, wanting to savor every moment of pleasure. The more you move the more San whines. His hands are clawing at your hips, his nails leaving little marks on your skin. He's babbling again and you clench around him.

“So fucking good. Fit me perfectly. Like you were made for me.” You lean forward, placing your lips on his as your pace increases slightly. At this angle, the tip of his cock nudges the place you need. It isn't long before your hurling towards your second orgasm, San's name repeatedly falling from your lips. With one thrust from San, your falling over the edge with a moan.

San makes quick work of flipping you over, his length never leaving your core. His pace is faster than you had expected, but his strokes hit deep. You've had no time to recover from your orgasm, but the sensitivity you're feeling only improves the way you feel. San is letting out of string of grunts as his balls hit against your ass. Your nails are digging into his back as you hold on to him.

“You're so perfect. So glad I get to have you like this. Wanted this for a while. Dreamt about it.” It's like he can't stop talking and you can't say that it bothers you. His hips start to stutter as the tension builds in your belly.

“San. I'm gonna come again. Cum with me. Please, baby. Please.”

Your words seems to have the desired effect as he delivers one last hard thrust, your name leaving his mouth in a groan as he fills the condom. Your high hits you at the perfect time, syncing with his. He falls on your body for a moment, panting heavily as you both come down.

He slowly pulls out of you with a wince, looking down to see your cunt still slightly pulsing. He gives a sweet kiss to your clit, giggling and apologizing as you whine and try to back away from him. You watch as he walks to his bathroom, coming back with a warm cloth to clean you up. He takes great care to get you well cleaned. “You want to take a shower?” You nod and make grabby hands at him and he lets a loud laugh and connects your hands to pull you up gently.

The shower is filled with soft touches and even softer kisses as you clean yourselves. Once the water is turned off and you've dried yourselves off, San offers you one of his shirts and a pair of his boxers, which you eagerly accept.

You crawl into bed, finding yourself in his arms immediately. It's quiet, but comfortable. “So. You're mine now, right?” The fact that he even has to asks makes you giggle a little. Tilting your head up to face him, you place a kiss to his jaw.

“Yeah. I'm yours.”

Christmas the next morning is spent in your mother’s house, the four of you enjoying dinner and opening presents. And finally in your life, everything feels right.

[ONE YEAR LATER]

A year flies by, bringing new challenges and experiences and you're beyond happy. You watch as Mason plays on the floor by the tree with your mother, who's helping him unwrap his presents.

“Mommy, look!”

Your heart soars at the boy calling you mom. You can feel San smiling as he stands behind you, arms around your waist. As you talk to Mason about his new toy, you don't notice the look your mother gives your boyfriend. Behind you, he smiles, slowly reaching into his pocket, trying not to draw your attention. Your mother smiles wide as she watches San pull the ring box out of his pocket slightly.

#16 days of smutmas #cultofdionysusnet #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic #ateez angst #ateez fluff #ateez smut #ateez x reader #san scenarios #san imagines #san fanfiction #san fanfic #san angst #san fluff #san smut #san x reader

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obliviouscxnt · 4 months

Text

Home Azriel x Reader

a/n: forewarning I'm a firm believer in things getting worse before they get better. I hope you enjoy!:)))

synopsis: azriel has to resort to desperate measures in order to ensure your safety

Warnings: SA, depictions of RAPE, angst, violence, minor fluff

5.3k words

pt.1 | pt.2

The feeling was unshakable, those hands grabbing you, forcing you into the darkness. The freezing cold void of absolutely nothing and everything all at once.

It’d been a day since the incident, the bruises and scratches on your body were already healing, getting better by the second.

You hadn’t felt anything since then, no presence in the corner of your mind, no eyes on you, just silence.

You didn’t know why its absence brought you no comfort. Why it made you feel worse. Like your body was trying to warn you about something your mind hadn’t caught up with yet.

However, that was the last thing you wanted to think about as you lay beside Azriel’s form. Listening to his soft heartbeat. Letting the rhythm soothe you into a state of calm.

You were so tired, you just needed a little bit of sleep, to rejuvenate your brain. And if you had any hope of avoiding that nightmare you had to keep it far out of your thoughts. Distract your mind with other things. Conjure a nice dream for yourself. A dream about you and the shadowsinger.

A dream where the two of you could just exist together. With no worries, no foreboding feelings in your hearts, just you and him, and your family, and happiness.

Slowly that disturbed twisting feeling of unease faded away, and you closed your eyes. Ready for sleep to take you away.

Then it rushed you.

Darting out from whatever crevice it had been lurking in. Invading your mind, taking hold of your senses.

It tore apart your dream, cracked open your fabrication, and sent a shockwave through your system. It felt like the magic under your skin flinched.

You gasp, eyes snapping open as you sit up.

You feel Azriel’s hands on your shoulders, then you see his face in front of yours. Hazel eyes darkened with worry.

It had been hiding from you, waiting for you to let your guard down. Waiting for the perfect opportunity to grab you and pull you into its never-ending darkness.

It snapped your dream world in half.

You shiver.

“I don’t know what to do.” You confess to him. “It’s like it has a mind of its own.”

Azriel’s hands grip you tighter and pull you into his chest. His wings cocooning you. “We’ll go see the sisters first thing in the morning. You can give it back to Elaine. Let her deal with it.”

You swallow. Knowing that wasn’t an option. It would destroy her. And in turn, destroy Feyre.

He reads your face. “You think you need to keep it? That because of your abilities you have some obligation to? You don’t. What if your abilities make it worse? At least, with Elaine it can’t take form.”

You don’t voice your thoughts, you can’t fight with him.

You don’t say that it would eat the newly turned Fae alive in her fragile state. Pick away at her mind until there was nothing left. That you at least had a fighting chance against it, even if you hadn’t quite figured that part out yet.

But you don’t need to say anything, not when he could see it all in your eyes. The shadowsinger sighed, so frustrated, so powerless, he wanted to do so much more, wanted to ease your stress, but he didn’t know how other than by being with you. Offering you his support.

It didn’t feel like nearly enough.

He held you the rest of the night.

*****

You’d abandoned sleep. Until you could find a way to counter this thing, to keep it caged, you would stay awake.

You were very experienced in nightmares, probably the most experienced. You could manifest the perfect nightmare for any person, reduce the finest warrior into a sniveling coward at your feet. But you’d never taken somebody's nightmare before. Never had to hide from someone else’s fears.

Even if you wanted to give it back to Elaine, you wouldn’t know the first thing to do. It was very different than twisting someone’s fears.

So for the past week, you’d been doing research. Re-reading those books from Helion, scouring the library for anything else that mentioned dreams, nightmares, or the subconscious. When your brain needed a break from words you trained your body. Joining Cassian from time to time.

The training backfired miserably, making you more tired, body aching with fatigue every hour, minute, and second of the day.

But you couldn’t sleep, couldn’t go in that cauldron again. Not when it could hold you there. Keep you from waking. And even though Rhys had started sleeping at the House of Wind to ensure that you wouldn’t be trapped, you couldn’t risk it.

You didn’t know if it would continue to attack you, like normal nightmares did, you had no way of knowing what its next move would be. It didn’t act like anything you’d encountered before.

It could attack someone else next time, attack Azriel.

That thought alone was enough to keep you awake for the past week.

But with each passing day, keeping your eyes open got harder and harder.

“You can’t let this continue.”

Azriel hadn’t even noticed his brother’s presence. You’d taken all of his focus, diminished the spymaster to a man who couldn’t even hear Cassian’s footsteps. Which were not at all quiet.

The two Illyrians watch you from the library doorway. You sat with a multitude of books scattered around you, the one you were currently reading almost wider than the length of your hand and you were already halfway through. They watch your eyelids slowly fall, watch you try to fight it by blinking rapidly and shaking your head.

Azriel was in full agreement with Cassian. This couldn’t go on.

Azriel feels hopeful when your eyes finally close, you’re head falling back against the sofa cushion. He holds his breath as he waits for you to sink deeper into sleep, not daring to make a sound in fear of startling you awake. But you shoot up a moment later.

Eyes flying open as you grab the couch like you had to catch yourself from falling. Head snapping to and fro as you frantically search for something that isn’t there. Harshly rubbing the sleep from your eyes over and over, but it only makes your eyes burn with a fire that could only be sated by letting them shut.

In a moment of desperation, you grip your wrist, letting the sharp claws dig into your arm. Repressing the sleep in your system with pain.

Your hand is snatched away.

“Stop!” Azriel yells panicked. Watching as blood began to drip down your arm. “Fuck. Cassian can you-“

His brother was already handing him a first aid kit.

The sounds of shaky breaths and ruffling bandages fill the room. You don’t look at him as he wraps your arm, so mortified, so embarrassed he had to see you this way. That anyone could see you this way. So weak.

He grabs your jaw, forcing you to look him in the eyes. He’s not rough, but he’s not gentle either. So much emotion filled his face.

So much worry, and love, and sadness.

Then his eyes harden. “You need to sleep.” You try to shake your head but can't with his grip on you. “It’s not a suggestion.”

Tears fill your eyes. No. You can’t. Not when you knew it was salivating at the thought. If it managed to kill you in your sleep, only the Gods knew what could happen. If that horror would be unleashed on the world.

You couldn’t risk it. You wouldn’t.

At first, the shadowsinger was torn on what to do. He couldn’t bear the thought of ordering you to suffer. Still can’t. But you were suffering anyway. He couldn’t watch you deteriorate anymore.

He would sacrifice your trust in him if it meant you were healthy.

*****

Dinner was quiet, Rhys and Amren were busy. So that left you, Azriel, Mor, and Cassian. The Acheron sisters ate in their rooms and kept to themselves, though you had seen the older sister a few times. She joined you in the library every once in a while. She never spoke, never looked your way, but she stayed.

“You look like shit.” Mor had said when she saw you, slapping a hand over her mouth as if realizing she spoke aloud. Leave it to Mor to speak the truth.

“Gee, thanks.” You replied, wanting to send her a smile to let her know you didn’t take it to heart but could only find the energy to slide ungracefully into the chair next to her.

Mor turns to you, forgetting her full plate of food. “Gods, look at you!” You tense as she reaches for your face, fingers brushing the bags under her eyes. Her touch made sleep slowly enter your system again. “Why are you doing this to yourself?” She asks as if she didn’t know the answer to that question. Which she most certainly did.

You don’t have it in you to say anything so instead you start shoveling the tasteless food in your mouth. Forcing yourself to swallow it even though it felt like you were chewing chalk.

“You know we’re here for you, don’t you?” She continued, and the food became increasingly hard to swallow with every word she spoke. “You don’t have to fight this alone, it wasn’t even your battle to begin with.”

Your heart drops at her words. Not your battle?

That’s right, this all started with your selfish need to feel useful. So you wouldn’t have to lay around like a weakling. All you did was make everything worse. Of course, you did.

You reach for your water when you feel the food start to rise back up. The water doesn’t help. Your whole body starts to feel clammy, and your head starts to spin.

So you pause leaning back to take a few slow deep breaths through your nose, swallowing the spit that didn’t stop gathering in your mouth.

“Feyre would hate to see you like this.”

Those words were the final blow.

You jump from your seat, hand on your mouth as you dash out of the dining room. Running for the nearest bin, the house seemed to hear your inner pleas because a bucket was waiting for you in the hallway. You fell to your knees in front of it. Too busy hurling up all the food you just ate to cry out at the pain of your kneecaps slamming into the stone floor.

You feel his warm gentle hands on you. Softly rubbing your back, and pulling away your hair. Waiting patiently for you to finish heaving.

When you could breathe without gagging you leaned into him, letting him wipe your face with his sleeve. Ruining the fine shirt he wore. “Can you call Madja? Tell her I need another tonic?”

The little shots of energy that’d kept you standing the last two days, were all you could think of. You needed them before it was too late. Before a week's worth of sleep could catch up on you.

Before that thing was free to roam.

Azriel looks to Cassian, expression grim, and he nods. The general was rushing off the next second. You hope he’s getting Madja.

A moment later Cassian was running back over and crouching beside you, pushing a glass of water in your hands. You wanted to protest, remembering how the water hadn’t helped just moments before, but Azriel takes the cup and puts it to your lips.

“Drink.” You comply. He tilts the cup up and up and up until you drink the final drop. “There you go.” He whispers, setting the cup aside so both of his hands are free to soothe over your body. “That’s it.”

The effect was swift.

That magic that was always writhing under your skin begins to slow. It’s vibrating energy dying out. Until it wasn't even a tingle.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, and your heart dropped. What did he do?

Your head becomes foggy, and your body is no longer your own. You can’t fight it as you slump back, can’t do a single thing when your eyes fall shut, can’t even think as your brain powers off.

All you could do was sleep.

Azriel holds you close to him, lip curling at the smell of your fear permeating through the air. “I’m sorry.” He whispered again, though he knew you couldn’t hear him now.

“It will work,” Mor said from where she leaned against the wall, watching you with a solemn look on her face. She, along with everyone else in the inner circle, was on board with the idea the moment Madja brought it up earlier in the week.

“It better.” He was reluctant until today, until he watched you hurt yourself. The fact that you couldn’t keep your food down was the cherry topper.

Azriel just hoped the Faebane in your system would last longer than the sleeping tonic.

The drug succeeded in quelling your magic, succeeded in its purpose of ridding your mind of that awful thing. But it also succeeded in other things.

Without your magic, you were unable to conjure a happy dream for yourself.

Leaving you trapped in your very own nightmare.

*****

Your mother smiled with pride as she adjusted your hair. “Every male will want you.” Your whole life had led up to this moment, everything you had been taught was for this night. The night a male would choose you.

The night you would submit.

So why weren’t you excited?

“Stop that frowning. It’s unsightly.” Your mother leads you to a mirror. A pressure settles on your chest when you look at yourself.

The sheer white gown did nothing to hide your body. Giving anyone who looked a full view of what was underneath. Your face was painted, your skin shaved and silky—glowing from whatever substance she’d lathered on you—and your wings were spread wide, fluttering at a pace that made every intricate design viewable.

Your mother looked the happiest you’d ever seen her. The expression uncanny on her. “They won’t be able to keep their hands off you.”

You felt something inside you twist at the thought.

“Mother?” You say before you can think better of it. She meets your eyes through the mirror. She looked at you like you were a trophy, an object to be displayed not loved. Not that you ever knew the difference.

I don’t want to do this.

The words were right there. At the forefront of your mind. All you had to do was give them a voice.

But it was like your lips were wired shut. Your mouth doesn’t move, your voice doesn’t work. You say nothing.

It wouldn’t have mattered if you had anyway. You didn’t have a choice, you never did. “Don’t worry, child, none of the others can compare with your beauty. You will not be left unpicked.”

Her words brought you no solace.

You hold your chin high, as she leads you out of the hut and toward the growing horde. You make sure you stand straight, shoulders squared like you had been taught. Make sure your hips swayed just slightly, just enough to keep their attention like your mother had shown you.

Make sure your teeth don’t grit, and your legs don’t shake. Make sure your wings don’t twitch, and your smile doesn’t fall.

Your mother parades you around for every male to see. Laughing at some of the comments they made, insinuating banter between the rowdy ones, reveling in the way they fought over you.

With each laugh, each yell, each claim made upon you that pressure in your chest grew. Except it wasn’t just in your chest now, it was in your stomach, and in your head, and under your skin.

Your wings folded subconsciously, making your mother sink her sharp claws into your wrist. Not enough to bleed, she wouldn’t ruin all her work, but enough to hurt. Enough to make your wings snap back open.

Is this really it?

The feeling gets worse when she leads you toward the other women, and then it doubles when she leaves to sit with the onlookers. Not so much as a goodbye, or even a second glance as she walks away.

Your heart pounds as you blend yourself in with the sea of white.

Maneuvering through the women was easy, each and every one of them was silent, tense, and scared. You try not to look at their faces for too long, didn’t want to be able to notice which ones were missing once everything was over.

It wasn’t uncommon for males to lose themselves to the night, last year seven woman were found dead. Brutalized.

You swallow, heart beating so loud, so fast, it’s all you can hear. It drowns everything out.

I don’t want to do this.

You don’t hear the horn blow. You only know it did when everyone around you began heading through the woodline. You almost trip over yourself as you dash forward. You had to run. You had to hide before the second horn blew. You had to make it till dawn.

Your bare feet don’t feel the sharp rocks and sticks that stab into them. Adrenaline fills your body, pumping through your blood, and muscles. Blocking out the pain.

The shimmering barrier is what makes you come to a stop. You’d never seen them before, the wards that kept your community safe, but there was no denying it. That wall of energy was where your colony ended.

Beyond it, death was inevitable.

There was no hope in flying, male wings are much different from females. Stiffer, sharper, stronger, the males would always be superior in the sky.

So you stay on the ground hiding in a nearby thicket just on the edge of the wards. Arms hugging your knees to your panting chest, making yourself as small as possible.

You hoped nobody would search this far. But you knew the males in your community. They stop at nothing and do anything to get what they want.

When a distant scream echoed through the woods you knew you’d missed the second horn. The males were already hunting.

You hold yourself tighter, trying to force slow breaths in your nose and out of your mouth. Frantically trying to slow down your palpitating heart. But it felt like you weren’t getting air. Your whole body was shivering from the adrenaline, that pressure still building.

You would get found by the sound of your breathing if you kept it up.

“No! Ple-!” Your head snaps in the direction of the scream, much closer than the other one. You try not to think about how it cut off so suddenly, about what could’ve happened to her. What could’ve made her object to a male.

You just need to make it till dawn. Just need to keep hiding. For six more hours.

It was hopeless, there wasn’t nearly enough ground to give the women a fighting chance. The men greatly outnumber the women, making the former even more desperate, even more competitive.

Where was the fun if everyone had a chance at winning?

No, they had to yearn for it. It was what made the Ritual work.

Your head falls to your knees.

You don’t want to end up like your mother.

Three years ago your father had grown tired of her, he participated in that year’s Flowering and never spoke to either of you again. As your mother is far from pure, she can not be used in the ceremonies. Instead, she was made a community whore.

A female for the pent up males who had no luck on Flowering to fuck as they please.

Your mother always said it was necessary. That all the things your people did, there were reasons for.

That Flowering Night was a gift, it provided the magic that grew our blooms. The blooms that supplied our only food source. Nectar.

Of course, you believed her, you’d never known any reason not to. The Middle wasn’t a resourceful place. It was too dangerous to send hunters beyond the wards, and there weren’t even any animals to hunt. Only other monsters. And even they weren’t worth hunting. Bodies usually emaciated with no meat on their bones if any at all.

It was necessary, but that didn’t mean you wanted to do it.

You wouldn’t know until much later that your people were just addicts. That hunting wasn’t an impossible thing, not when they had wings. That they could’ve flown to the Day Court to hunt, or even the Winter Court, but they chose not to. Because nothing could ever compare to their precious Nectar.

Snap.

Your blood runs cold as an older male sniffs around. Fifteen feet from you. His hard wings make a low buzz as they vibrate against each other with frustration.

The male was a brute, muscle stacked upon bulging muscle.

You hold your breath as he slowly gets closer, the buzz becoming louder. If he caught your scent, no amount of shrubbery could keep him from finding you.

He gets closer, and your heart pounds faster. That pressure you feel under your skin now throbbing. Pulsating.

He’s almost ten feet away, if he got any closer he’d undoubtedly smell the fear that left your body in waves.

White dots started filling your vision. You fight with your body to hold it.

A blessing came in the form of a scream, this one even closer than the last. Your throat constricts trying to force air into your system. Your teeth ache from how tightly you clench your jaw.

The male started in that direction. Your throat burned, your head pounding.

Just a second more.

But you couldn’t stop yourself from gasping for air.

The male stops. Then he looks right at you.

You’d never known terror till that moment.

*****WARNING: until the next scene change dark themes will be depicted such as rape and violence, if you do not wish to read proceed to the next “*****”

He pounced, dragging you out of the bushes by the base of your wings. Even though you don’t struggle.

He throws you to the ground, not wasting a second before straddling your thighs. Pinning down your legs. His hands grip the fabric of your gown, tearing it off your shoulder. You want to cover your body, but instead you lay still. Let him run his filthy hands over your breasts, let them squirm their way between your legs.

You let him cause it’s all you’ve ever known.

Even though your mind was screaming.

He is anything but gentle, forcing his way inside, digging around. You can’t stop the cry of pain that leaves you, the tears that fill your eyes, and he moans. Touch becoming rougher, harsher, trying to force another cry from you.

The pain becomes worse when he adds more fingers, shoving his way though.

Like he was trying to rip you open.

His head buries into your shoulder. Sniffing and groaning in your ear. Rutting against you like a wild animal.

Then he bites down, and you scream.

Your hands find his head and that pressure, that jerking energy under your skin devours him.

The male collapses, body twitching on top of you. Teeth still embedded in your shoulder. You're stunned for a moment, but that's quickly replaced with revulsion.

Your arms shake with the effort it takes to roll him off of you. Whimpering when his teeth slowly leave your shoulder.

His hands don't leave you, even though he was now out of reaching distance you could still feel them. Touching, grabbing, digging.

You feel nothing but disgust as you look at the male, watching him mumble, whine, and mewl in his unconscious state. You don’t even get the time to question it, to think about what happened. The heavy footsteps that head your way get closer by the second.

I don’t want to do this.

So you don’t.

For once in your life you disregard all of your teachings. Every rule beaten into you. Each false instinct that’d burrowed into your body. And you run.

Right past the wards.

Because you’d rather die than end up like your mother.

You run and you keep running until your lungs are stabbed with pain, until your legs give out from beneath you, and you crash to the ground.

Your nails dig into the soil as you lay there. To breathe. To think. To cry.

Maybe you could just wait here till dawn. Maybe then you could go back. Nobody would have to know you even left.

But the chill of the crooked woods laugh at you. You hear the sound of old trees creaking in the wind, calling you foolish.

You couldn’t go back, you’d attacked a male. There was nowhere for you now, just death.

Still, there was a senseless part of your brain that hoped this was all a wretched night terror. That any minute now you would wake up to your mom’s voice. And you would be in bed. And Flowering will have already passed. And you wouldn’t have went because your mom knew you didn’t want to. And she wouldn’t have wanted you to go through it either, because of how ruthless the males were. And your life would go on until the next year came around. And maybe then you would be ready. Maybe then you would have accepted it.

The other part of your brain was ready to be done with it all.

“[name]?”

Your breath catches, unsteadily lifting yourself from the ground. You look around, searching for that familiar voice.

“Mother?”

“[name], my child…” You see her. She was completely bare, something you were used to, her beauty a stark contrast to the spindly trees around her. She walks toward you crouching before you, you sob when she rests a soft hand on your cheek. So, so different from how she usually held you. Then she spoke in such a soft voice, a tone you’d never heard leave her mouth. “You looked so beautiful when you were screaming.”

The next moment it felt like you were punched in the shoulder, a heat unlike any other burned your skin. You look down to see a blade sticking out of your chest, a shriveled-up hand attached. Not the smooth skin of your mother.

When you look back into your mother's eyes they were no longer hers. Replaced with a milky white that gleamed in the moonlight. The face no longer female or beautiful. It’s skin was stretched taught over its thin bones.

Then as it spoke again with a smile so wide, teeth so rotted, and breath so pungent you knew what it was.

“Cry for me, child.” It said, sounding like a million different voices at once.

A creature that preyed on the weak, found pleasure in the act of killing. It cannot be reasoned with, its only joy is to watch the life leave someone’s eyes. To watch people die a sad miserable death in the form of the ones they loved the most.

The Mymic.

You scream, and it laughs. You scream louder as it twists the blade inside you and then drags. Ripping each nerve, muscle, and vein as slowly as possible. So you could feel each and every tear.

The creature howled in ecstasy as it tore into you, cutting you open endlessly.

No one would save you, not this time.

Nightmares don’t have happy endings.

“So beautiful…” It sighed pulling the blade out of your chest only to play with the blood that pooled out, finger-painting your white gown red.

*****

He couldn’t stand it, you were so still that Azriel had to keep making sure you were breathing. He holds you against him, unable to keep his hands from wandering, soothing you. Shadows doing the same.

You’d been sleeping for two days straight. Madja kept assuring him and everyone else that you were okay. That it was a good thing, that your body was responding well to the tonic and catching up on the sleep it needed.

The Faebane had cleaned out of your system after the first twenty-four hours. But no Hybern soldiers made any appearance, no evil king, not even a flicker in the fae lights.

His head leans against yours, watching your chest lift up and down. He moves a hand to rest there, watching it rise and fall. Finding comfort in the repetitive motion.

Maybe you weren’t made for him. Maybe the cauldron didn’t deem you mates. Maybe he didn’t care.

Azriel was content to just share something so real with you, so raw.

A bond didn’t make what the two of you had any less intense. He didn’t need to be tethered to you to know what you were feeling. Didn’t need fate to tell him you were the love of his life.

He’d always pick you.

A small sound reaches his ears, he was so worried about you that he’d started having audio hallucinations. But then he heard it again, louder this time, and he knew it wasn’t a figment of his imagination.

Your breathing becomes irregular, another little noise leaving your parted lips. Azriel’s hands rub you soothingly. Waiting patiently for the sleep to fade from your body. Whispering when he could tell you were conscious enough to hear him. “Hey.” He drawls, making sure he's quiet. When you open your gorgeous eyes and look at him his heart stops. “There you are.”

You blink at him. “You drugged me.”

Azriel flinches at the words. Actually flinches. Then he nods.

“My magic… I can feel it now but it was…”

His hand reaches for yours, feeling relief when you let him take it. He runs his thumb over the smooth skin. “Faebane. We got some when Rhys was captured.”

You look down at your free hand, willing a small moth to appear there. Checking that everything was working correctly. The moth flies up toward Azriel but it dissipates before it can get far.

You weren’t mad. Quite the opposite. You’d woken up and found yourself relieved. Relieved to see him there next to you. Relieved to be home.

You weren’t angry because you knew he did it to help not to hurt. Sure, he could’ve gone about it in a different way, maybe presented the idea to you instead of just slipping the drug in your water. But you couldn’t fault him for that either, Azriel was a man of action and few words.

Still that didn’t stop you from asking. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I didn’t even want to agree to it at first. So little is known about your kind, your magic, there was no telling if the Faebane would even effect you. I didn’t want to risk you getting stuck in that nightmare without the ability to heal.”

Your eyes widen at the information. If he’d told you that, nothing would’ve gotten you to agree. But he took that chance? Azriel wasn’t a gambler.

Your face must’ve shown what you were thinking because he continued.

“Then you hurt yourself and I couldn’t take it anymore, [name]. You needed to get better.” He squeezes your hand. “If I have to fight off a living nightmare so you can get a night's sleep, I will.”

“Did you?” You ask, wondering if the male had made an appearance or the Mymic.

Azriel shakes his head. You sigh in relief. Ignoring the way your stomach grumbled with hunger, in no hurry to force down tasteless food. No hurry to leave your male. You lay your head on his chest.

“I’m sorry.” You say, and he shakes his head at you in confused questioning. “For letting it get that far.” For not being strong enough to get a grip.

The shadowsinger holds your head to his chest. “I’m sorry.” He presses his lips against your head, saying the words into your hair. “I wish I knew other ways to help.”

Your hands grip him. Nails clinging to his bare skin. “I missed you.” The worst part about reliving that Nightmare, was that you hadn’t known he existed. That someone so amazing was out there, and capable of loving you.

“I never left.”

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