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niningtori · 1 month

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make you cry | part one

part two | part three: hyuka's ending

pairing: beomgyu x you, huening kai x you in alternate ending

summary: beomgyu is your manwhore best friend who you've been secretly in love with for years. one night, he asks you to blur the lines between friendship and physical intimacy for his own convenience.

genre: ANGST, romance, smut (mdni), fwb

warnings: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, creampie, dom!gyu, eventual sub!gyu, fingering (vaginal), dacryphilia, dirty talk, praise, if i missed anything lmk!

word count: 4.2k

notes: hi friends! i'm not completely satisfied with this, but i'd rather it be done than sitting in my drafts. pls don't be mean ;_;

being in love with your best friend is not for the faint of heart, you think. in some cases, it’s the easiest thing in the world, but beomgyu makes it difficult. he’s not a bad guy, at least not deep down, but as you watch him break the heart of another notch in his belt, you can’t help but shiver at the fact that he’d very easily do the same to you if you gave him that chance. not that you ever will, that is, but the thought still remains.

you met in grade school. for you, it was a classic case of love at first sight. you had just fallen off the swingset and the teacher had yet to notice you, so you were crying alone when he came up to you with a dinosaur bandaid in tow. he looked like an angel with the sun encircling him, and even as a child, you thought he was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen as he held his little hand out for you to grasp. you had no chance to steel your heart when he asked you if you wanted to be friends, and after that, the rest is history.

that was years ago, but the image of him holding out his hand is engraved in your bones. you think about it even now as you watch him make the poor, unfortunate girl in front of you bawl like a baby. she asks him why he's doing this, what she did wrong, how she can fix it to make him stay. but he's dead set on breaking her heart tonight. and you'll be the one who takes his tipsy ass home after he's done ruining this girl’s perception of love. you’re nothing more than a glorified lackey and enabler, but that's just how it is.

“god, i don’t know why they can never just let go. they always have to make it so hard,” he grumbles in the passenger’s seat of your car. he seems more annoyed than genuinely upset and you can’t help but to feel for the girl who he just unceremoniously dumped in the middle of a house party, so you speak up for once.

“it’s not her fault, beoms. she just really likes you,” you reason. not that it matters, anyway, but you feel better after speaking your mind.

“so it’s my fault? i just don’t get it. i told her no strings attached from the beginning. the fact that she took it seriously is her own problem.” well, nevermind about feeling better. you feel even worse for her now.

“it’s hard not to get attached to you,” you mumble.

“what?” he asks, not even really paying attention to what you’re saying, but still asking for the sake of being (what he thinks is) polite.

“no, it’s nothing,” you reply quickly.

“mmm,” he nods, completely preoccupied with his own issues to really give a fuck about what you have to say. then, as if by a stroke of genius, he says his next words without much thought.

“i just thought of something! you would never act like that with me, would you?” you can’t help but scowl. of course you’d act like that. you’re a normal human being with normal feelings. you’ve already fallen for beomgyu without the physical intimacy, so you can’t imagine how you’d act if you actually had sex with him. but you can’t tell him that, or else he’d start suspecting something.

“i guess not,” you sigh.

“then why don’t we hook up instead?” he asks, genuinely earnest.

“no,” you say simply.

“why not?” he frowns, somewhat offended.

“i’m not interested,” you shrug. you don’t realize that your indifference has the opposite effect on beomgyu. what he perceives as your disgust only interests him more.

“c’mon, i’d definitely show you a good time,” he argues.

“i’m fine, thanks.”

“no, you’re not fine. you haven’t slept with anybody in months. not since what’s-his-name, right? it’s the perfect deal. i’ll give you the time of your life and i’ll get to fuck without any feelings involved.” you try your hardest not to say it’s too late for that. those words will never leave your mouth, though. or else he’d drop you like a hot potato.

“i said no and i mean no. besides, i kind of like somebody right now.” you’re not lying, really. you truly do like, even love, somebody right now, and he’s sitting right next to you.

“who is he?” he asks. “actually, your taste in men is so shit, i don't even wanna know.” usually, that would hurt your feelings, but this whole situation is so fucked up you can’t even find it in you to stifle your laugh.

“true.” he cocks an eyebrow at your answer. you should, in theory, vehemently deny this. just how shitty is this guy for you to not even put up a fight?

“okay, i lied. now i really wanna know. who is he? yeonjun?” he asks. you giggle even more.

“no. yeonjun is sweet, but no. and i’m not telling you, so you should give up.”

“you think yeonjun is sweet in comparison? damn, this guy must be fucking scum,” he laughs. you can’t help but shake your head with an airy laugh of your own. yeah, he’s so awful he even makes yeonjun look sweet. at least it seems like yeonjun has a conscience when he fucks somebody over. beomgyu, for the most part, has none.

“he’s not all bad,” you say softly, still smiling and resting your head on the headrest of your car.

“but still bad,” he argues.

“mhmm,” you hum. “still bad.”

beomgyu doesn’t mention hooking up again after that, and for that you are thankful, you think. is there a part of you that regrets not saying yes? in a way, you do. who wouldn’t want to be even closer to the one they love? but you know the closeness would be a lie. even if you were in closer proximity physically, he’d still be far away emotionally. too far to ever catch him. and so you sit at the counter of this shitty bar and watch him try to woo one of the prettiest girls you’ve ever seen, and by the looks of it, it’s working. you smile bitterly and down another shot, making your stomach feel hotter and hotter. you know that by the end of the night, you’ll feel sick, but you’d rather be physically sick and drunk rather than emotionally sick and sober.

“you okay?” kai asks, sliding into the seat next to yours and cutting into your daze with ease.

“aren’t i always?” you answer with a wry smile.

“it’s that bad, huh?” he asks. beomgyu is your best friend, sure, but kai is the only person in the world who knows about your feelings for him. he also feels like the only person in the world who would understand them.

“yeah, it is,” you mumble, downing yet another drink as you watch beomgyu grinding on the girl salaciously.

“wanna get out of here?” he asks sympathetically. you should say no. beomgyu will be angry that you left him, even if he’d ditch you in a heartbeat to get laid. but now, as you watch him shoving his tongue in the red-lipped mouth of the girl who will now be the impossible standard you’ll hold yourself to from hereon out, you can’t bring yourself to care.

“i do,” you smile, for real this time, and his grin matches yours.

you’re so drunk, you barely remember how you got home, but you’re here and so is hyuka. you don’t cry, even if he kind of wishes you would just so you could let it all out. you laugh, even, as he tells his dorky jokes and beats your ass in mario kart. things are going so well, you don’t even hear the pounding on your door until kai says something about it.

“i’ll get it,” he says soothingly when you unsteadily try to stand up.

“thanks, hyuka,” you smile. and that smile stays planted on your face until you see who’s at the door. beomgyu. and by the looks of it, he’s pissed.

“what the fuck is your problem?! how could you just leave me there alone?” he asks as soon as he’s let in. your face sinks and all prior happiness is washed away in an instant.

“you weren’t alone,” kai cuts in defensively. “she was alone until i came and got her.” beomgyu is actually a little embarrassed by this blatant callout, but he’d sooner die than admit it.

“well, she should’ve said something, at least,” he counters, face still hot and voice still as loud as ever.

“i thought you were going home with that girl,” you reply meekly.

“and you couldn’t just ask?!” he snaps.

“you’re being an asshole,” kai argues. “nobody wants to watch you tonguing down some random girl, and she’s not your babysitter.” the room is deathly quiet after this. beomgyu is fishing for words, but he’s too drunk to quite think of any at the moment. he wishes he were sober so he could put kai in his place, but the words never come. all he knows is he’s pissed beyond anything he can properly articulate and it’s driving him crazy.

“you’re drunk,” kai adds sternly. “go home.”

“hyuka, it's okay,” you say gently. “he's too drunk for that. he can crash on the couch.” beomgyu doesn't know why, but he scowls at the nickname.

“but —”

“it's okay,” you repeat. kai’s face looks torn.

“alright, then i'll head out,” he relents after a few seconds. “the both of you just need some sleep,” he says with a sharp glance towards beomgyu, who is still fuming, by the way.

“thank you,” you say with a terse smile. he returns it with a smile of his own and shuts the door behind him. beomgyu watches the entire interaction and somehow feels even worse.

“what the fuck was that? is he the guy you’re hung up on or something?”

“no!” you exclaim incredulously. “hyuka is a nice guy, and he’s just… helping me with some things right now.” you’re not the most eloquent person on a good day, much less while drunk, so that’s all you can really say at the moment.

“what ‘things’ could he possibly be helping you with?” he snaps before realization dawns on him. “you told him about that guy, didn’t you?! you can tell him but you can’t tell me?”

“he… he just understands,” you say. you knew beomgyu wouldn’t just let this shit go and be done with it. he’s like a child finding out his dog likes somebody better than he likes him, and it’s exhausting.

“are you sleeping with him?”

“what, no!” you say firmly.

“you are, aren’t you?” he sneers. “you won’t let me touch you, but you’re letting him?”

“is it so hard to believe that a man just wants to be my friend without wanting to fuck me?” truthfully, yes. you’re good looking and his experience tells him that men always harbor those intentions. well, he does, at least. and for some reason, as he looks at you in your big t-shirt and sweatpants, those intentions are brewing even more.

“beomgyu?” you ask tentatively. his eyes are so intense it seems like he’s even more pissed off, somehow. your innocent look stokes the flames of what’s already been burning for you.

as if he’s possessed, he stalks his way over to you, grabs your face before you can even react, and plants a bruising kiss on your soft lips. you gasp when he meanly takes your bottom lip between his teeth and he can’t help but chuckle. the kiss is cruel for so many reasons, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t knock you off of your feet. you’re usually so restrained around him for reasons only you and kai know, but you feel your inhibitions melt as his tongue enters your mouth. he tastes like alcohol, but then, so do you, and he doesn’t seem to mind. in fact, if his hungry kiss in any indication, he seems to love it.

one of his hands travel under your big hoodie and he tweaks your already hardened nipple between his fingers.

“does that feel good, baby?” he asks lowly, and you feel yourself becoming even more wet. you're too embarrassed to respond, but judging from his tone, he already knows your answer.

his kisses are unrelenting and fierce, no gentleness or care to be seen, but you’re so sweet he can’t control himself. he’s been wanting to do this ever since he hit puberty, but you’ve never seemed interested in him for reasons he can’t understand. but now, you seem more than interested as you let him lead you to your bedroom. he lays you down on your bed and takes off your sweatpants. when he sees you, naked and glistening just from a few touches, he licks his lips in anticipation.

“all this from a few kisses?” he teases, rubbing his fingers up and down your slit. you can do nothing but gasp in response as he pushes one of his long, calloused fingers into your heat.

“s-so tight, it’s sucking me in,” he moans. “i can’t wait to see how you feel around my cock.” he adds a second finger and curls, hitting your sweet spot. all you can do is moan as he takes his thumb and rolls your clit. he watches your body rise and fall with the pleasure and it fascinates him like nothing he’s ever seen. your eyes are screwed shut, but he can’t help but prod and tease to see the different facial expressions you show him. before long, he’s pounding into you. the sound of squelches mixed with your moans only goads him further and further until you’re clenching down mercilessly on his fingers.

“aww, does that feel good, baby?” he coos. “wanna feel even better?” post-release clarity should hit you right about now, but you’re only more eager when he removes his clothes. his lengthy cock, angry and reddened, springs up and slaps his stomach. you whimper at the sight and he smirks at how needy you are.

he hovers over you and slowly, agonizingly slowly, he begins to rub his stiffened length up and down your slit.

“gyu, you need a condom —” you begin to protest.

“why? i’m clean. and i don’t fuck just anyone raw,” he argues as the head of his cock comes dangerously close to hooking on your entrance. you’ve never been able to say no to him for any meaningful amount of time, so relenting isn’t out of the ordinary for you. but more than that, his words, though unromantic, spark a bit of hope in your heart. you’re special, you think.

“do you trust me?” he asks.

no. not at all.

“of course.” and he pushes in. his arrogance falters as you take him in, inch by throbbing inch. it’s a tight fit, and the way you clench around the tip of his cock only drives him further and further into madness. how can you feel so good? how can this feel so perfect?

your poor pussy is equal parts trying to suck him in and trying to resist so the intrusion is forced out. to him, it feels like heaven.

“t-tight!” he hisses. “relax, baby, or you’re gonna break me.” for some reason, his words comfort you, allowing him smooth entry until he’s completely sheathed in you. you both moan when he completely bottoms out, balls hitting your ass in the most lewd way. his precum mixed with the result of your release seep into the bedsheets. he stays there for just a moment, pushing your hair out of your face, and his next words are uncommonly tender.

“you look so pretty like this,” he muses, and you don’t even have time to blush before he’s unsteadily pulling out, pussy pulling him back in like it never wants him to leave, then thrusting back in again.

“oh m-my god,” he says as he begins to ram into you. “so good, baby. you’re taking me so well.”

“b-big!” is all you can manage to say as he continues to fuck you open.

“oh baby, are you going dumb on my cock? can’t even manage to get the words out, can you? it’s okay, don’t think. i’ll take care. of. you,” he says, punctuating each word with his mean thrusts.

you’re crying now, the pleasure too great to stifle your tears. beomgyu thinks you look absolutely lovely like this, lovelier than anyone he’s ever seen, especially when he looks at where you two are joined and watches himself enter and exit your puffy pussy. each gasp, each breathy whine you emit makes him feel crazier and crazier. he aches so much, he has no choice but to continue pounding into you until he's relieved. so he does. he’s gripping the plush of your thighs like he might die if he doesn’t have something to hold onto.

he leans over to give you a nasty kiss, all tongue and teeth. when he parts from you, a lewd string of saliva falls from your mouths and he can’t control the chuckle that escapes him when he sees your pupils are blown out as you flounder for his lips again.

“look, baby. look at how good i’m fucking you.” you look down and see how his cock protrudes from your tummy as he rams in and out of you. “nobody else has fucked you right, but don’t worry, i’ll make sure to fix that.” your pussy involuntarily clenches at his filthy words and it’s enough to make you come.

“c-coming!” you manage to choke out as you spasm around him, back arching deliciously. he follows soon after, thrusts becoming uneven before you feel his cum shooting inside of you.

fucking beomgyu comes naturally, and often. he can’t seem to keep his hands off of you. hooking up becomes almost a daily affair, but you’re so hungry for him you can’t bring yourself to protest. you fuck in his car, on his couch, over the fucking kitchen counter, even. all plans to go out with anyone else are immediately dashed in favor of being with him, instead. you feel yourself falling deeper and deeper in love with him, and even if you know, know, know it’s fruitless, you can’t help but relent when he looks at you like a man starved.

“this can’t be good for you,” kai tells you one evening in the comfort of your apartment. it’s a rare occurrence to have a free night from beomgyu’s clutches. kai hasn’t seen you in weeks because you’ve been too “busy” with beomgyu.

“well, i know,” you sigh, too tired to argue with him.

“if you know, then why do you do it?” he asks tentatively. you can’t help but give him a look.

“you know why,” you say.

“he's just messing with your head. you know this can't end well.” you flinch at the word “end”. you know it, he knows it, beomgyu surely fucking knows it, but you can’t help but give in every time. “what are you gonna do when he inevitably fucks you over? and he will, just like always.”

“i… i’ll deal with it when the time comes,” you protest. he sees your defeated expression and lightly tilts your head so it’s resting on his shoulder. your retribution for your actions was always well on its way, but you didn’t know it would come so soon.

you hear a key turning in the door. there’s only one person in the world you’ve given a spare to, so you aren’t surprised in the slightest when beomgyu walks in with that signature smirk on his face. he scowls a bit when he’s greeted with the scene of you and kai sitting so intimately.

“am i interrupting something?” he scoffs as you raise your head from kai’s shoulder.

“no,” kai replies before you can even fix your lips to respond. to your mild surprise, he doesn't push any further.

“whatever,” he shrugs, plopping down next to the two of you and pulling out his phone.

“wanna see this girl whose number i got today?” he asks casually, swiping through his phone eagerly. so that's why he didn't wanna meet up. your heart feels like a hole’s been blown straight through it. you and kai share a deep look, which beomgyu completely misses as he pulls up a picture of a beautiful looking girl.

“this is her,” he says with a triumphant smirk. you don’t — can’t — respond. you just have a blank look on your face.

“what?” he asks petulantly. “she’s really pretty, look!” he insists, pulling up another picture. “she’s one of the hottest girls i’ve seen in a minute.”

any last shred of hope or dignity you have is strangled in its crib at his careless words. your eyes are hot and your stomach hurts so much you feel like you’re going to vomit. kai notices your discomfort and decides to put a stop to this once and for all.

“alright, that’s enough,” kai snaps. “nobody wants to see that shit.”

“what’s your fucking problem?” beomgyu retorts.

“my problem is that you’re a fucking moron. grow up.” beomgyu’s not one to get physical, at least not in a violent sense, but he’s on the precipice of breaking that streak at kai’s harsh words.

“stop, hyuka. it’s okay,” you say softly. beomgyu is so furious, he almost forgot you’re here, but he's genuinely confused by kai’s words.

“what's okay? what is it that you're not telling me?” beomgyu asks.

“it's not okay, actually. he’s fucking you but he comes around and pulls this shit right in front of you?! she won’t say it, but i will.”

“kai, don’t —”

“she doesn’t care! no strings attached, that’s always been the deal.”

“you may be stupid as fuck, but surely you’re not that stupid,” kai sneers. “so if you say you don’t already know, you’re just a fucking liar.” beomgyu pauses at this. is he saying what he thinks he’s saying? surely you didn’t catch feelings, right? but one look at your face, and he knows kai is telling the truth.

but why? and when?

“since when did you…”

“since always,” you say quietly.

“oh, fuck. look, i —”

“it’s okay. i already know,” you cut in. and you do already know, but you can’t bear to hear him say it. beomgyu, in all his glory, processes this and instead of regret, all he feels is anger.

“i’m the piece of shit guy you can’t get over? are you fucking serious?”

“hyuka, you should go,” you say instead of letting him watch the melodrama unfolding before him. kai looks uncertainly between the both of you before relenting.

“call me later, okay?” he says, wiping tears from your eyes that you didn’t realize had fallen.

“okay,” you reply with a sad smile. he sends beomgyu one last scathing look before gathering his shit and slamming the door behind him.

“you tricked me!” beomgyu exclaims as soon as the door shuts. “i would’ve never fucked you if i knew you’d be like this.” just like everyone else. he doesn’t need to voice the last part, but you already know he wants to say it, which just hurts you even more.

“did you really not know, or were you just pretending not to know ‘cause it’d be inconvenient for you?” that shuts him up. kai was right, he’d be stupid not to know. maybe not at first, but surely along the way. surely when you’d look at him so longingly after sleeping with him, or the way you’d look so sad when he didn't stay after sex.

“listen, i’m so sorry that you’re scared, or angry, or whatever it is you’re feeling. i really am. but are you so selfish that you really think nobody else is afraid to have their heart broken? and do you think that means you’re allowed to hurt everyone else instead?” you ask quietly. every new word pierces his heart like nothing he's ever felt before. he wants to say something, but for the life of him, he can’t think of anything quite fitting.

“i think you should leave,” you say after what feels like an eternity of silence. he looks at you with watery eyes and you almost feel guilty, but you’re through with feeling things for him that he’d never have the courtesy to feel for you. “go,” you repeat defeatedly, striding to the door and holding it open for him and he feels more and more like a rat you want to chase out of your home.

he looks like he wants to say something, but one look at you tells him you’re done listening. with heavy feet and an even heavier heart, he heads through the doorway, pausing only before he’s about to cross the threshold. he has a sinking feeling in his gut that tells him this is probably the last time he’ll be here.

“are we still friends after this?” he asks lowly, eyes wide and more desperate than you’ve ever seen them.

“no,” you say simply, and shut the door.

notes: not a ton of smut in this part, but i think the next part will have more i fear.

taglist: @my313 @superbbananananana @lonelybutterflytae @cherrycolaberry @everythingvirgoes @beomnoullitheorem @sunny4cast

#niningtori #make you cry #beomgyu smut #beomgyu angst #beomgyu hard thoughts #txt hard hours #beomgyu hard hours #txt hard thoughts #txt smut #txt angst #txt x reader #beomgyu x reader #mdni #huening kai x reader #hueningkai x reader

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gangplanksorenji · 9 months

Text

I. Apotheosis

Pairing: IVE Gaeul x Male Reader

Word Count: 10,660

A/N 1: Hello Orenjideul! I probably think this is late but it's better than never! The end was written a bit rushed and not further proofreading but I hope y'all like it! It's my special birthday fic for IVE's beautiful and captivating leader, Kim Gaeul! Wishing her the best day of her life and enjoy reading this angst, smut and fluff-filled fic!

A/N 2: Also, featuring someone at the end, hehe...

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“Love can be the sweetest venom you can take.”

It certainly is, well, maybe, according to your experience.

You cursed yourself to never love again for the fact that it's more than unbearable to see your lover in someone's arms, comfortable, like your relationship never existed with her.

It hurts to see her go, to let her go—it fucking hurts, but, you needed to do what you need to do because you don't deserve her.

Strings of broken melodies played the piano when you cried, a symphony unfinished and cacophonous sounds ensued.

You bawled when that day came and you wanted to forget it, absolutely. Yet, simply, you just can't forget her like she never existed because you loved her so much that you gave your world to her but in the end, she annihilated yours and your heart…

Broken pieces and a scar left to you is all you had now and it still hurts to think about her. Your mind is clouded with her and her only and it hurts that you can't bring the past back.

It hurts to think about it…

It hurts.

No one can probably mend you—make you smile genuinely like she did, make you laugh like she did—no one can.

You wanted to move on, but the venom stays throughout your soul and you'd be damned to even think of getting it out—letting everything out because you still want her—

“Is everything alright, sir?”

A voice echoes around your ear, the soft tone lingers around you as you are woken up onto the reality of life that you wanted to end.

“You're like bawling your eyes out for like an hour now—”

“Isn't it obvious?” your tone harsh and laced with venom as maybe, the obliviousness of the girl is not your type of tolerating it. If you can't even tolerate the burning sensation of the alcohol scarring your throat then what more about the petite girl beside you?

“I'm s-sorry, sir. I'm just a little bit concerned about you—”

The girl's eyes glistens with fear as your tone does scares her, but she want answers and she's willing to do whatever it takes to make you comfortable in the best way possible—

“Hey, why don't you just give me a favor, hm?”

She leans her head down slowly, her senses perceived as she tries to hear the coarse, broken tone of your voice. “Okay, s-sir…”

“Why don't you just moved back and leave me the fuck alone, do you understand? Because I have no time for your reassuring bullshit—or just whatever you want to do, okay?”

The girl just nods and faces back away from you, doing what you've said. You didn't feel bad for her as you didn't care about anything and everything in this world, now.

It sucks to be heartbroken—at your lowest point with no one to lean on.

And maybe, someday, you'll regret the reckless and selfish disposition you've introduced to that girl—but who cares, anyway?

This is just a tough night to fight with, and it's not easy as the demons inside your head lures you into the abyss of unwanted vices.

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Drink. Gulp. Exhale. And it repeats, constantly.

You weren't like this but you'll do everything just to forget everything that scarred you even if it means for you to risk your life. You can't bother to think of anything other than uttering her name and the broken sounds of discomfort as tears run down your cheek slowly.

Drink more and drink another—the burning sensation down your throat makes you groan yet the sweetness of the liquid possibly contradicts the pain you’re feeling. It probably scars down your throat, at least not adding more to your broken heart.

The remnants of the broken melodies of her voice still lingers around your ear, hearing her voice and it hurts you even more. You slam down your curled fists—the strength not enough to cause a dent nor hurt you—onto the wooden table as you let out hints of contained anger and frustration from the earlier quarrel. You even wanna drink more to give yourself to the neverending wormhole of nothingness—bending the laws of nature just to get out of the agony you’re feeling right now—yet it’s not worth it to spend couple of bucks just for another bottle of alcohol that won’t even make you let her go.

It is not worth it; you should just go home.

It’s definitely not.

You then place the glass down and course your way out of the bar, just wanting to go home and commit into a deep slumber for your body to take a rest from this strenuous day.

Drowsiness controls over your enervated body and so is the dizziness affecting the way you act. You’ll go home no matter what happens and it starts with just a single flick of the key, starting the engine of you car then closing your door—

An arm stops you from that latter advance, making you furrow your eyebrows in disbelief before looking at the petite figure that’s been stopping you from closing your car’s door.

“Don’t sir, you’re drunk. You shouldn’t drive—”

You recognized her face with just a flash of your eyes towards her. You may be tipsy and heartbroken, but you’re not stupid nor easy to be manipulated as annoyance changes your demeanor.

“You again? Gosh—what do you want from me? Why do you even fucking care—”

“Please sir—” the petite, black-haired girl stops you from closing the door as she further extends her arm, leaving you immediately furious from her attempts. “—it's not worth it and you’re drunk. Please just call an Uber or something—”

“Let. go. of. it. Now. I swear to god—just leave me alone!”

The girl is stubborn as you ever expected and you hate it. You just wanna push her off in order for everything not to be halted but she's practically a stranger to you—you never wanna cause a fight of hurt with people you don't know, especially with a girl this beautiful and modest—

“No, sir. You may even get to an accident if you—”

“Just stop—” With no other choice, you flick your finger hard onto her arm, hurting her as she lets go, the pain making her rub all over the red spot in order to ease the pain. You immediately closed the door as soon as she freed herself from the imaginary restraints. You drove off hurriedly yet carefully, leaving the girl stranded on the parking lot as you can see her wince in pain as she caresses her arm to ease the burning sensation—she probably even glared at you because of what you've done but you didn't care because you just want to go home.

This is probably risky considering how you're feeling afloat because of the alcohol but that didn't stop you from your advances of getting home and thankfully, your apartment isn't that far enough and you can drive safely and carefully without wasting so much time.

Thank god it was just like a fifteen-minute drive and thanks to little-to-no traffic, you got home faster than you expected—probably even safer, considering that if your body became so depleted that you slept and crashed onto something or someone. It is not a great sight to see as you could just imagine how your day will be worse if that did happen.

Thankfully, it didn't and you came home safe and sound.

But yet there’s no other sound that can’t be heard other than your silent cries of need—in need, of her.

You loved her so much that you almost gave up everything just for her.

You loved her so much that she's been your entire world and you’re almost into nothingness without her.

Speak of the devil, you’ve foreshadowed yourself into diving down onto the dark path of oblivion. Some may point out the obsessive form of love you have with her (in which, probably, you have) but the truth is, she made you better. Better in a sense that you became a better person today than what you are from the past and you absolutely thank her for that.

She made you the man that you are today, building up the foundations that made you stronger and such willpower that can reach even the farthest mountains yet it all went downhill, a landslide rupturing and annihilating the foundation that has been built slowly throughout the years now that she's out of your life.

You hated that you loved her, now you do.

She's your core memory you wanted to forget but you simply can't—because she's more than special.

It cuts like a knife seeing her go but there's nothing you can do to get her back.

“Why did she do that to me?” you muttered to yourself again, questioning the reality of a sin she's done that was impossible at first but now, was more than close on being possible.

While you bawl your eyes out, bottling out the deeply-contained emotions that has been kept inside you, you reach on your brown leather jacket, wanting to get your phone yet something caught your eye immediately—a note latched by a transparent adhesive onto your jacket that says: “김가을(Kim Ga-eul)” and then, possibly her number below it.

You already assumed it's that annoying girl that owes you everything and you just want to brush off that fact but you can't. Wanting to throw away the not-so-important note, you reflected on yourself and thought that she just wants to help you genuinely after all but why you and how did she know you’re going through something? If it's the others, they won’t bother talking to you nor do anything to mess with you—if you look like you always want to start up a fight, who will bother?

You know something is up with her and your gut is telling you so. Not to mention how comfortable she looks talking with you despite the possible fear evident on her countenance—it feels like she knew you a long time ago which is peculiar, to say the least.

You gotta know her more and her small actions of concern and uncanny relation to something you can't fathom just piqued your interest towards knowing her more.

*phone buzzes*

“Come on, come on—pick up….”

Every second brings a faster beating of your heart as it races intrepidity and anticipation. You became sober as the alcohol didn't have any effects on you anymore and the longing emotions of desolation makes you invulnerable for the liquid to take over you.

Clearing your mind, you now feel regret for being too harsh with the girl you’ve dealt with earlier—which is probably the person named “Kim Ga-eul”. You never wanted to act rude on the first place, yet there are two things that caused that sudden vexation within your demeanor: firstly, the passive-aggressive approach towards strangers as you need to be cautious whenever someone approaches you because you may get in danger and lastly, and probably the best reason of your demeanor, is because of you being not in the mood for everything because of a heartbreak.

There’s still heart in you even if you’re totally broken and lost and you need to apologize to her—that’s your current goal to do as you can’t scar yourself with another grudge that will make you guilty until the end of times.

“Come on—”

“Hello? Who is this?”

Her voice and its tone—it’s definitely the girl you’ve been looking for and a sigh of relief escaped your breath as she answered the phone.

“Hello—look, I know I’m too rude earlier and I’m sorry for that. I shouldn’t really—”

*phone beeps*

The line disconnects and you’ve never felt so gloomy and disappointed with yourself (possibly a metaphor since you’re already feeling down and worthless). You could’ve done better but you let out the rage inside you and you hate it. Now you feel guilty of what you’ve done to her and possibly may scar her since she may not trust any strangers from now on because of what you’ve done.

No, you’re going to apologize to her no matter what—you’ll mend the broken link that she made with you, even though it’s fragile at the moment but her giving your number and her name says something that she’s probably interested in you.

She’s maybe interested in helping you too…

A girl like her can probably combat the depression you’re feeling as of now—she may also mend what’s broken on you and possibly, fix you.

Sighing in defeat, you gave up on calling to her as she possibly ignores the past three calls you’ve made because of fear yet you’re not giving up just like that. Leaving a text to possibly reassure her, you faintly smile as the girl that you fought with earlier is now clouding your mind, even though you met her in a not-so-special way—possibly, a regrettable day for the both of you yet a memorable one.

Your enervated body can’t keep up to open your eyes or move a muscle as you fall and give in to your drowsiness, slowly closing your eyes and getting yourself into a deep slumber.

----------------

Sets of multiple chirps from the birds outside your apartment woke you up as it's loud enough to be your makeshift alarm clock yet those are way more peaceful than the ones you're used to. You slowly open your eyes only to see the dishevelment of everything around you—the sofa pillows dispersed around the vicinity of your couch, the crumpled tissues and cans around the coffee table, your jacket on the floor as it was probably made as a makeshift blanket in the earlier hours of your sleep.

You regain energy for a couple of seconds and rise up from the couch, reaching for your phone after as you're anticipating to read the possible reply of the girl you've made contact with and to your surprise (not really), she didn't reply.

Yet. Yet.

Well, there's still a chance of a reply later or the next day—all you know is that she'll respond to your possibly desperate attempts of assurance towards her and that you'll never give up until you get that desired choice of words from hers, even if it only flashed within those blue pixels on your phone.

You sigh heavily thinking that it's maybe over yet the optimistic side of you says that yes, she'll reply anytime.

She inevitably will and that's the thought buried inside your mind.

Yawning as the post-sleep drowsiness is still all over you, you power yourself through rejuvenating and stretching your muscles and arms. Not so long after, you clean up everything that's a mess and prepare yourself to make a simple breakfast consisting of scrambled eggs with spring onions, some toasted eggs with butter and lastly, some freshly-brewed coffee with a hint of sugar as the cherry on top.

Munching onto the egg-filled bun, you scroll your fingertips down to your phone and just within a minute of surfing through social media, a familiar name with a message pops up as a notification and it makes your heart skip a beat from the utmost anticipation.

김가을 (Kim Gaeul) on 7:48 - “Sorry for bothering you too…”

Five words yet thousands of emotions can be felt coursing through your veins as you feel butterflies after reading such a short message. It's a relief knowing that the girl is not utterly scared for her life because of you but you're still feeling skeptical considering what you've done wrong to her as a first, not-so-accidental approach.

You'll do everything to further reassure her as you don't want to scar yourself into thinking that she'll hold that grudge until her hair grows white so with an immediate action, you text her if she's down to meet you up on the same bar the both of you first met up. Of course, the adrenaline and the tension of your knees can't bear to be hidden in every word you type. You really wanted to apologize to her badly and to clear your name towards her yet a reflection hit you—what if she takes this negatively? Like, she might feel uncomfortable meeting up with you after what happened yesterday?

Sudden reflections with a hint of doubt hit you as your approach throughout the situation might be eccentric to nature yet it’s a gamble—a risk worth more than playing a deck of cards; a risk worth remembering or worth forgetting.

It's not like you're going to lose anything if the two of you didn't end on good terms with each other—the both of you are just strangers after all with a relationship fragile than a fiber of hair; a bond more shallow than an acquaintance.

It's not like that easy to let her go despite the situations said above because there's something within that made you captivated with her charms and the uncanny thought of her possibly knowing you before.

You swear to god you haven't met her once in your life yet, but… is it not the same boat on her side?

It may or may not, you don't care because at the end of the day, you'll aim to figure this out with her and possibly, be friends with her.

You swear to god you won't love anyone again other than her but she may break the short-living curse you swore until your deathbed.

If you can just send more pleas close to a hundred towards her even through text you absolutely would yet it's a hyperbolic exaggeration. But like, applying more bandages onto the wound won't help it heal faster, so, you just waited for her reply hoping that she's down and to your surprise, she agreed to meet up with you.

You smiled like an idiot, full of delight yet not that bright. You hurriedly prepared yourself to look as presentable as possible—decently dressed and neat and not looking like a lowlife in distress.

Locking the doors and securing everything on leaving with necessities, you hop onto your car right away and go straight to the bar the both of you first met.

Hopefully, this ends well on a good note…

-----------------------

Tapping and fidgeting your fingers onto the wooden surface of the table, you sigh slowly full of nervousness and utter excitement as every second counting feels heavy. Time ticks as you wait for the beautiful girl to meet you and as soon as you saw her walking her way towards the glass door, time felt eerie and slow—not frightening but more likely uncannily strange—as her modest walk sends you heart beating triple times, her inching closer towards the table you're in. You fix your posture and your demeanor, hoping to have a better “first” approach than what you showed her yesterday which is clearly embarrassing and unacceptable, to say the least.

You then opted to take the chair out as a gentlemanly move but she insisted, saying that it's just alright if you don't do it and she's not used to boys acting like a gentleman. You just nod but she still thanked you for your sweet, little actions. Despite the awkward moment, you take a look at her flawless features sculpted perfectly by the gods themselves—probably an angel in disguise, distinctable right from her beautiful, brown eyes up to her porcelain skin—god, she’s drop-dead glamorous.

“Hello…”

A faint voice escapes your lips, your tone softer than a feather as she responds with a bow and greeting you softly too. The awkward silence was broken with a single word uttered from the girl’s lips, smiling faintly as she felt charmed with your looks.

“Hi…”

You smile from her response as you make eye contact with her, in a sense of total seriousness and aim to let her forgive your reckless actions yesterday.

“Uhm, I’m really sorry about yesterday. I was just like, not in the mood for anything.”

“I’m also sorry too—”

“No, no—” you interrupt her unnecessary apologies towards you as you wanted to tell her that it’s all your fault and not hers.

It wasn’t, but with a pure heart like her, she still found a way to apologize to you which made your heart flutter yet it also makes her vulnerable for deception. Acceptance is a must, but you don’t find any way that she should accept the fact that it’s her fault, so you reassure her thoroughly and let her feel comfortable with you.

“—I’m clearly on the wrong side here. I shouldn’t really act like that towards strangers and also, I appreciate your concerns towards me but—” her eyes glistens with anticipation, ready to discern everything that’ll escape from your lips—

“—it’s not really none of your business but, yeah. I dearly appreciate your concern towards me yesterday. I was just too lost and controlled by my own emotions…” you bow down your head in dismay as you remember the moments of quarrel between her and you again—where everything went downhill and possibly, the lowest point of your life.

“Hey, hey, it’s going to be alright. I just tend to have the urge of helping people when they feel lost or in need of guidance or something—like, I can sense it…”

She’s so pure and innocent—she’s like the closest epitome of a saint. You can’t look her in the eyes anymore but she does, and she looks intently at you; her eyes gleaming in awe and anticipation.

“It’s going to be alright, trust me…”

You smile faintly at her. It's purely genuine this time as her reassurance heals you slowly, mending your broken heart.

“Thank you, genuinely.”

“N-no problem—by the way, can I know your name? I—uhm, just felt weird that we instantly talked to each other without me knowing y-your name…”

You huffed as you got shy from her sudden actions as you softly replied to her, your tone still audible in a way yet soothing and deep.

“Uhm—my name is Wooseol and you’re… Gaeul, I suppose??”

“Y-yes, my name’s Gaeul. Kim Gaeul and I suppose you already knew my name because of t-the note?”

You scoff as your hand sheepishly scratched the back of your neck, feeling shy towards her. “Y-yeah… I also just assumed it was your name because you were the last person I talked with and the note wasn’t there on my jacket before I met you.”

“But you could never assume that always, right?” Gaeul giggles as she teases you with no harmful intentions, making you sheepishly laugh at her mischievous remarks.

“Yeah—but is it really your name? Gaeul?”

“Yeah, *giggles* I was just teasing you…”

Both of you smiled at each other as you felt comfortable talking with her, her playful and clever attitude checking the boxes of your ideal type. As much as it hurts to let her go and your unconditional love still shouting out her name, Gaeul is probably the one that’s destined for you and the kind of girl that is loyal and will love you passionately like how you loved her.

Maybe it’s just because Gaeul has been clouding your mind since yesterday and your emotions are taking over you, again—who knows?

You still don’t want to take things way too fast with her and you need a moderate pace for upping the relationship with her but establishing a good bond with her will be a great move, so, you asked her something and this time, you felt more confident than the earlier timid approach.

“Gaeul, m-may I ask you something?”

Her eyebrow furrowed, her gaze fixated onto yours, leaving you breathless before responding a simple, “Yes?”

This is your chance now so go and take it.

“Can we b-be friends? At least… *scoffs*”

God, it’s so awkward and all of a sudden—you muttered to yourself as you feel off while saying that but nonetheless, Gaeul blushed and took it as a nice initiative from you. She didn’t hesitate to nod immediately, signaling that you can be friends with her. This feels like you’re going to your old high school days, asking someone to be friends with them and it’s like rolling a dice because you’ll never expect if they will say a rejuvenating “yes” or a heart-breaking “no”.

But it doesn’t matter. Knowing that everything’s fine with Gaeul makes this day a lot better, making you feel delighted than ever and possibly, healing the wound she caused on your heart.

It seemed strange how everything unfolded and the sudden acceptance of apologies, but it's just going to get better from now on and everything's holding you back to where you were—a strong man being healed by an angel.

“Also, may I ask one thing with you, Gaeul?”

“Yeah, what is it?”

“Are you younger than me or not? Because I was born in 2002 and I was thinking that it’s a bit disrespectful not calling you with honorifics—”

Her eyes lit like flames, full of desire as she’s shocked that she’s the same age as you.

“Woah—no, it’s alright Wooseol-ie… I’m born in the same year too! You don’t need to address me as a noona *giggles*.”

You lightly giggle at her response, also shocked by the fact that she was born at the same year as you and you didn’t expect that. You continued talking with her and actually got to know each other’s personalities more. That doesn’t come with a bit of bickering and small laughs which is the cherry on top of every fun and engaging conversation. Not so long after, she asked for your number and unhesitantly, you typed your number on her contact and it comes with a bright smile of hers that captivates you more, falling onto her spell slowly.

---------------------------

Boisterous laughs full of joy and stupid memories, teak-jerking moments from the past that were poignant to feel inside and a lot more was shared with the beautiful girl beside you as the hours went by. It felt like you’ve started all over again as the undying feeling of ecstasy fueled you into a good mood today and of course, the feeling of love coursing to your veins can be felt again. You don’t want to rush things with her, like engaging in another relationship or something crazier than that but you can’t help yourself to feel that way. Who are you to blame if an angelic, heaven-sent girl came down and be friends with you? You’re absolutely not to be blamed here.

Well, even with the inevitable happiness you’ve felt with her earlier, there’s still a feeling of guilt and sadness that’s corrupting your heart slowly, breaking it into pieces. Why so? Because you still love her.

They may say that you must move on as the past is already buried in the past, but you want to write your own, brilliant future with her but you need to do what you must do. The pain is agonizing to deal with, but you’ll believe in saying that whenever there’s pain in your life and you’ve endured, you’ll be rewarded with a good cause and really hope that it’ll be true.

Let those pessimistic thoughts fade away as you’re only investing your interest towards Kim Gaeul only and only her.

It’s getting dark and the sun will set soon as the orange skies can be seen onto the horizon, another day ending yet there’s nothing near an end when you’re still with Gaeul.

Probably, the two of you may consider this a date on how much you’ve bonded over the hours. This may feel surreal and out of the blue yet you won’t complain as everything feels enchanted and you want that feeling.

“Want me to order another drink, Seol-ie?”

“Oh, no, I’m already good, Gaeul. Thanks though…”

The both of you wander over the horizon under the pine tree, taking a gulp on the sweet beverage you both love. It doesn’t come with a deep sigh in every gulp and your eyes wandering down to her angelic features. The both of you still converse with each other, sharing and reminiscing the core memories from the past and how you’re grateful and regretful having to experience those.

The both of you became so comfortable with each other that you began to empathize with her and that never felt this good.

Sure, it really boosts up your mood and morale within the given time as you feel open to someone you're comfortable with but talking with Gaeul feels way different. Maybe it's just a certain feeling of affection and love towards her and your biased thoughts yet who are you to blame?

“Thank you for these things, Seol-ie… I never shared this much with someone and I—felt s-so—I don't really know how to describe it—”

“I can't describe it either and I also feel the same way, Gaeul… I s-still can't believe all of these happened just within a single day…”

It does feel too fast yet you won't complain any further because at the other boat, Gaeul's enamored countenance possibly comes to a conclusion that she liked talking with you.

“This feels unreal, yeah—I feel that way too and I—uhm—s-sorry for being like this Seol-ie. It's just been awhile since I talked to someone like this…”

Gaeul faces you and you face her, making eye contact as you can see flames of passion igniting beneath those lovely, brown eyes of hers. You smiled at her and reassured her to not apologize since this is completely normal to feel because you feel the same way too.

Butterflies on your stomach—that's the best description of what the both of you are feeling right now! Yes, yes it is.

“It's alright. It's normal to feel butterflies in these situations.”

You put down your drink at the wooden seat of the bench as you gently course your hand to brush against hers, feeling her soft, porcelain skin touch yours is genuinely captivating.

“I also want to thank you for listening to me. It was hard breaking up with her but like, I had to do it. Thank you for that, Gaeul.”

You faintly smile as the coarseness of your voice becomes evident once you mention her.

Gaeul knows deep down your heart that you still love her—she can see it in your eyes; how your pupils dilated and widen every time you mention alongside a hint of tear running down your cheek, in which, to her response, wipes it down with her finger.

“Hey, hey, it probably hurts but, I guess we should take our time to move on and accept it. It's probably letting her go but if you knew it was the best for you, then you made the right choice.”

Gaeul inches closer to you and smiles at you, her reassurance definitely healing the wound that’s been scarring you for the past week.You then thanked her with all your heart because of her listening to you and being understanding to the current situation you’re in.

You never thought how pure and down to earth Gaeul is and that’s the beauty of it. Hearing her deep, soothing voice while talking just puts you in tranquil, in a state where everything just feels right and peaceful with her and you love it.

You probably fell into her spell now—falling in love with her and just her only.

“Thank you for the kind words, Gaeul. I—really owe you because of this—”

“No, it’s really fine, Seol-ie! I’m just like—you know, giving you advice for the better you to possibly come back.”

And she’s just making you fall in love with her even more and there’s the venom that you’re going to take. A venom because of the fact that you still love her but Gaeul’s just captivating your heart even more at this moment, and you would like to up the ante.

“Uhm, Gaeul, may I ask you something?”

“Uhm, sure!”

You sigh, regaining the confidence and the will to say this to her as you anticipate something that will make you smile in delight or will break your heart.

“I really, really appreciate everything you’ve said and I just wanna really say that I really like you, Gaeul.”

A momentary pause breaks the noise and the tension between the both of you, your eyes anticipating a response for her and Gaeul herself a bit shocked yet flustered with your sudden confession.

“You know, Wooseol—I really like you too and it’s genuine but…”

“But?”

She sighs as she gains the courage but a sudden realization hit her, responding to you with an amicable tone and brushing off the intrusive thought she has in mind.

Or is it…

“—N-nothing, really. It’s just—I’m a bit shocked I guess, you know? Not really used to this feeling…”

“It’s fine, Gaeul. I really liked you from the beginning but I was just scared of being rejected because of what I did yesterday and honestly, you’re perfect.”

The word resonates around her ears as it felt enchanting to hear the seven-letter word to be directed to her. She hides her face in embarrassment because of your heartfelt compliment towards her as you giggled softly because of her adorable, little actions.

“Yah~ Seol-ie. D-don’t make me blush like that—”

You then catch her gaze again, your eyes fixated on looking at her only as you let your thoughts win and confessed everything to her.

You’re so mad in love with her right now and you’ll let her know that.

“But I’m for real, Gaeul! You’re beautiful, down-to-earth—you’re perfect to my eyes. I feel so assured and I feel loved because of you, Gaeul—I love you…”

Cupping her cheek with your palm and inching closer to her, she was flummoxed with the sudden action of yours but doesn’t complain as she’s feeling the same towards you—the feelings are mutual and there’s no one that’ll stop the both of you from letting everything out.

Gently and slowly, you caress her cheeks and let everything out—

“I l-love you too, Seol-ie—you probably don’t k-know this but—”

As soon as you heard the word, it triggered something in you resulting in a deep, captivating kiss onto her lips. She reciprocated slowly as you felt the love and the sweet taste of the flesh brushing off against hers. She tastes incredible as the strawberry lipstick makes you feel insatiable towards her, kissing her passionately. You immediately pulled out as you felt guilty for being too rushed onto an anticipating climax. The both of you exchanged breaths as the short, enthralling session made the both of you feel butterflies into your stomachs (of course, it’s figurative).

“W-woah… Getting too excited, Seol-ie?” she giggled as punches your chest lightly, in a state of shock and awe as your actions definitely moved a muscle on her hibernating heart—a beast being woken up from its long slumber.

“Sorry about t-that, Gaeul—I c-can’t help it—you made me feel this way. I’m sorry about t-that…”

“There’s no need to—the f-feelings are mutual.”

You flash another smile to her, letting her know how much you love the feeling of insatiability towards her as you anticipate more or none.

“Wooseol…”

“Yes, Gaeul? Is there anything wro—”

She shushes you with a single finger brushing onto your lip as she adorably captivates you, “There’s nothing wrong, Seol-ie. I just w-want you—now, please…”

She wants you for now? What does that even mean—oh…

Yes, and you knew what she’s feeling right now—the absolute need for you and to feel your love.

“Gaeul—” you inch away from her a little bit as you ask her if she’s serious about it and there’s no games being played. “—what do you mean by this? Are you in need of—”

“Just you, Seol-ie—just you, please.”

It’s the glint on her eyes, tears being held back from the emotions she’s about to unshackle—the uncontained feeling of need, unable to be restrained anymore with just a hair’s width of chains holding it together. She demands you and it’s evident on her eyes and her hands naturally—and possibly involuntarily—caressing your thigh for further encouragement.

You know that this is not the place to take action upon her request and needs, so, you had a better plan in store for the both of you that she’ll surely love.

“Let’s just take this on to my place, shall we? Because I don’t want people to see us like this in public.”

She knows you have a point and she doesn’t want to get caught up and get embarrassed so she eagerly nods as the both of you stood up on the bench while the both of you were sitting and got your unfinished drinks.

The eyes—specifically her eyes seeking venture towards the promised land. She is brave; she is brilliant; she is her. You knew how adventurous she can be as she shared how bold and vocal she is whenever she wanted to do something but this was probably over her bucket list of wants.

The both of you then went to your car, readying yourselves to go onto your place and you can’t wait how everything will unfold once this day closes its own chapter.

----------------------------

Traveling down the breeze of the wind is sure enthralling and the both never felt so comfortable to be in touch with nature’s finest. There were little to no cars to be seen on the streets as probably, the roads are busier onto the other side of the metropolis and that’s the wonder—you went back home safely and faster than expected as traffic was non-existent. The lack of possibly heavy traffic during these busy hours is surprising yet you’re not complaining.

“Aaaand we’re here in my humble home!” your cheerful tone rejuvenates the earlier silent aura around the apartment as she was in awe of how good your apartment looks, almost so cozy to live in and probably, her ideal place to rest with.

“Woah… Your a-apartment looks really nice, Seol-ie. It’s like—it probably feels cozy to live here!”

You sheepishly laugh as you scratch your head, feeling flustered about the compliment she said on how tidy and invigorating the cleanliness of your apartment is. You’re also just a big fan of cleaning stuff and organizing things and it’s just wholesome seeing someone appreciating your aspects—possibly your personality too.

“This is just something simple—nothing really much, heh—”

“Oh come on, Wooseol—your place looks really good and neat but other than that—”

You definitely know where this will go yet you still want to have her own ways and not yours. As much as she wants to appreciate everything, she can’t let her needs unattended as you pin her slowly onto the couch, letting herself rest on it as your face is now just centimeters close to her, almost kissing her in the process.

“Why is Gaeul getting proactive? Really want me, hm?”

“Stop—but I do, I really do want you even b—” she paused for a moment as you were caught off-guard, stopping yourself from your playful antics with her.

“What, Gaeul?”

“N-nothing, Seol-ie—I just become nervous about these kinds of things…”

You cup her cheek as you look her in the eyes, assuring her that everything will be fine and she just needs to be confident with herself. You can see the passion burning behind those glowing orbs of hers and the feeling is really mutual between the both of you. After a smile enunciating the final signal, you let yourself fall onto her spell as you latch your lips onto her slowly, her immediately reciprocating on the kiss that was so torrid since the start and you absolutely love it.

The clashing of both the velvety-red flesh never stopped but intensified as every second fades, the dueling between the both of you let each other know how much you want each other.

The unstoppable force meets the immovable object and both are really the great epitome of that paradox—but there's no such paradox if everything is evidently true and the lust between each kiss explains everything well.

“God—Gaeul—you're such a talented kisser."

“No, you are, Seol-ie—mmph!”

You continue barraging her lips with your own delightful act, each kiss dominating her as she moans softly while eagerly reciprocating. Her hands then roam around your neck, your abs and your chest, caressing the clothed skin softly as she feels the tension between the both of you.

“Gosh, you're so insatiable, Gaeul.”

You kiss her again, and again, yet this time, there's more burning passion and assertive dominance as you add a little bit of tongue for spiciness.

And to no surprise, she reciprocates on your lustful actions by doing the same, both of your tongues dancing and battling for dominance and neither can win nor lose.

She let herself be free and so did both of your saliva seeping out of your mouth, the vehemence on each torrid, lustful kiss sendong serotonin down your veins.

After a hot minute of kissing, you pulled out of her seemingly tight suction of her lips as she whined a little alongside her moans, wanting to feel more yet oxygen is to blame here.

“T-too g-good, Seol-ie—that w-was great—ohh…”

“You k-kiss me so well too, Gaeul. Have y-you done this b-before?”

Almost getting in a state of trance, you invigorate yourself by distracting your eyes onto her immaculate features and your hands haphazardly caressing and roaming down her waist. She subtly moans as she tries to think of an articulate answer but really can't.

“M-maybe just once, Seol-ie. It's also a g-good experience but yours is b-better—you're a better kisser than h-him…”

You're perplexed that she already had a good experience with this kind of scenario yet you didn't mind that—it's maybe written the stars on how talented she is and that's the beauty of her.

Despite the little talk, you still want her and to feel her, just like how she wants you. With that in mind and being the gentleman that you are, you ask her permission for something you want to do, anticipating for a “yes” escaping her luscious lips.

“May I, Gaeul?”

Brushing off the little hair that's been covering the pristine skin of her neck, you wanted to latch onto those soft flesh but you waited for her permission. Of course, knowing how much she wanted you, she never hesitated to nod as she knew exactly what you wanted to do with her.

She unbuttons the two buttons on her oversized long sleeves, making you peek onto her sharp hint of collarbones and the porcelain skin if her neck as you gently meet your lips onto the musky scent of her flesh, suckling on it as she moans full or fervor yet it's still soft.

You pepper her skin full of kisses as her moans just reverberate around your ear, making you up the ante the intensity of your kisses. You don't want to mark her but probably you will considering how much the suction is being felt between both worlds yet she doesn't complain but rather helps you out—herself positioning comfortably for you and guiding your left hand onto her waist to further feel her affection.

“Gosh—m-more please, Seol-ie—ahh, right there!”

Latching onto her collarbones now, she feels the kryptonite running down her veins as she succumbs onto submission, fully submitting herself onto the sea of kisses that you initiated and her drowning herself into her absolute desires.

“Please, Seol-ie—I can't t-take it anymore—I want to do something m-more than this…”

“But I'm still not done kissing you, baby.”

God—the pet name—she did not see that coming.

It doesn't matter because deep down, she likes it and you can see it in her eyes—her eyes don't lie.

“But please—”

You stop peppering her as she whines almost inaudibly onto your ear, Gaeul feeling the soft flesh detach onto her neck. At this moment, she’s nigh-insatiable as you couldn’t contain anything that you’ve been unshackling since the day you met her. This escalated quickly but you didn’t care anymore—you just want her and her only and that is what matters.

“What do you exactly want from me, hm? Enlighten me, Kim Gaeul…”

You smirk as you mock her, making her squirm quietly as she can’t help but feel the absolute delight of her whole life because of you. The sudden foreplay is working, you can’t just be damned to do that forever as your animalistic urges take over you yet still control it as you don’t want to get harsh on Gaeul.

A sudden ring on her phone distracts you but her hands directed your chin, making you look at only her and nothing else.

“Eyes here, Seol-ie—please—”

“Don’t you want to answer that? That’s probably important, no? Or I’ll just go and check it—”

“No!” Gaeul yelps as she grabs your wrists, pleading and insisting you to not further check it because it’s nothing important. She then grabs her phone and puts it on “silent” so the both of you won’t be further distracted.

“It’s just one of my friends calling. I’ll call them later whenever we’re done—so, please, just—”

You inch closer and closer to her again, until your faces are just a hand’s width away from each other.

“Tell me, Gaeul—what do you exactly want?”

“Y-you—to feel you, Seol-ie.”

You course a hand onto the waist then onto her hips, caressing it slowly as she moans because of your sudden actions.

“Be exact, Gaeul. Enlighten me more and let it all out. After all—” you inch your lips near her ear, the hot breath tingles her as you whisper, “—it’s just the both of us here.”

You now face her with a smirk that further lures her into her own profanities. You know where this is going but you wait for her to be addressed first before yours because she’s all that matters today.

“I w-want y-you to—f-fuck me, Seol-ie… I want t-to experience that—I want y-your cock to—gahh-ahh!”

You brush your fingers slowly onto the clothed crotch, making her squirm and her legs tremble in delight. She’s getting bolder and daring as she addresses her lustful profanities to you, and it’s only a matter of time for those earlier wishes to be fulfilled.

“Tell me more, Gaeul. More of it—”

And there she goes, succumbing to the sea of lust and letting everything out.

“W-want your cock to plunge d-deep into my tight, little p-pussy—gahh—a-and f-fuck me hard and f-fast—ga-ahh!”

She can’t articulately think of words to describe what she needs as you quicken up the pace of your teasing onto her clothed crotch. You can feel the inevitable wetness being released from her reservoir as the teasing and the overgoing feeling of serotonin making her brain go haywire.

“Tell me more, Gaeul—you’re almost there.”

“W-ant y-you to fuck m-me fast and h-hard until I s-scream in p-pleasure and c-cum all over yo-your cock—g-ahh—and I—fuck!”

“That’s enough, baby.” you stop teasing her as she falls onto the couch, comfortable and relaxed yet uneasy as her thighs are still quivering because of the sudden cause of pleasure.

“I think we should go to my bedroom, Gaeul and do what you want with me…”

Her mouth shivers as she stutters because she can’t help but still feel the aftermath of the things you’ve caused her—you swear to god she almost came all just from that teasing and that’s why she’s struggling but deep inside, you know she loved it.

You still keep asking her if she’s really up for this but she’s really pushing for this and is no stranger to anything like this as she wants to fulfill her fantasies with you.

This is gonna be one hell of a night…

----------------------

“God—I knew she would do this! How am I so stupid!” The girl shouts furiously, frustrated at herself as she’s not having the time of her life because another missed call from possibly hundreds of failed calls from her friend.

She half-expected this to happen but she’s just paranoid to think about anything related to vice in her vocabulary but she can’t do anything, yet…

“We’ll have a bad time tomorrow, Gaeul…”

----------------------

“Seol-ie, please—w-want to feel you…”

“Baby, you gotta be patient—I don’t want to hop onto the climax immediately.”

She keeps kissing you fervently, tongues battling around each other as you pull out again from her vacuum, wanting to teach her something and let her know something.

“I a-also wanted to try something that you'll surely like too…”

“What is it, Seol-ie?”

You sat down onto the bed, spreading your legs wide as you stole a gaze to her, smirking at the thought of what you’re about to enlighten her.

“Have you imagined sucking a dick, Gaeul? Like, I assume you already know what that means—”

“Y-yes, Seol-ie. I’ve always wanted to try that for real and not always in a dildo.”

What a girl Gaeul is, truly. Outside, she is an angel, a pure-hearted girl with everything on her—the nigh-epitome of perfection—yet it’s all like in a disguise.

The angel in disguise and the devil in her eyes.

You never expected her to be this kinky and dirty, yet you didn’t care about that as you wanted her as much as she wanted you—and again, that’s all that matters. Kneeling down with her face just inches between your clothed erection, her eyes burn with lust as her tongue licks the caldera of her mouth, preparing on what she’s about to take and you, yourself, preparing what sin’s about to happen.

“Please do the honors, baby…”

She tugs the side of your hips, unbuckling your belt hurriedly and unzipping your pants. Her hands are trembling slightly but you assure her with a pat on the head. It definitely works as she feels way more confident than before, now dropping the first layer of your clothed defenses against your crotch. Her eyes lit up in awe as she saw how hard you became and it made her blush knowing that it’s her cause. Now taking a deep breath, she yanks down your boxers as she was met with your rock-hard erection, standing tall and dripping with a little bit of that colorless liquid. She massages your balls gently and stroked the base of your shaft, earning a subtle moan from you because of her good handwork.

“God, baby—that’s good—do I need to teach you or you’ll do it all yourself?”

She keeps her moderate pace between her strokes as she looks you directly in the eyes, “Let m-me do everything, Seol-ie—just relax yourself…”

And there she goes, diving in and plunging her lips onto the tip of your shaft in which, in response, you squirm uncontrollably as her warm mouth meets the raging mushroom tip as her tongue circles around the slit, collecting the pre-cum that has been leaking out. She moans in delight as she finally tastes you—one step until she obtains your primordial seed.

She dances her tongue onto your frenulum and up to the corona of the tip as you squeal because of the sudden hit of pleasure. She just insists on sucking the tip just to give you a tease on what she can do and surprisingly for a first-timer, she’s not doing bad—maybe just the serrated culprit making the pain a little bit unbearable but nonetheless, she’s doing a magnificent job.

“God—what a good girl y-you are—you really are a good girl, Gaeul. Fuck! Keep d-doing that…”

And she didn’t stop pleasuring you, stealing glances and making eye contact too from time to time as her adorable face contradicts the act of sin she’s dealing with between your legs—you don’t why, but it’s so fucking hot.

Now engulfing more inches of your shaft, she starts to gag a little bit because of your girth activating her reflex but she didn’t quit and further bobbed her head with a pace that’s moderately pleasurable. Her tongue working in tandem with her mouth to increase your libido is the breaking point and the dexterity of her hands fondling your balls gently is just crossing a line, in a pleasurably good way. She now takes almost full of your shaft, her pace immediately quickening as you moan uncontrollably, another symphony being composed as you grip her hair, making a makeshift ponytail to fight the excessive pleasure coursing down your veins.

When she looks up, she looks ruined as her make-up is now a mess, tears running down her cheek and the saliva seeping out of her mouth in every thrust she does with face onto your raging length.

She’s way too great to be an amateur or is it just the fact that your head is ultimately clouded with pleasure that you can’t think straight to judge her skills—but it doesn’t matter as long as you’re getting the pleasure you’ve been wanting to experience for a long time and Gaeul having a good time sucking your dick—that’s all that matters.

“S-stop—Gaeul…”

She still continues to bob her head down frantically, your brain now feeling the familiar knot in your loins which signals the near denouement of the play—the dam breaking loose, signaling your release.

“I said stop, Gaeul!”

She pulls out of your shaft, strands of saliva connected down her mouth and onto your slit as her eyes convey fear. Her puppy-like, brown eyes went uneasy and the furrowing of her eyebrows lets you know how scared she became once you furiously shouted that.

“I-is there a-anything wrong, Seol-ie?” Still catching her breath from the lack of oxygen, she asks you with a tone that distinguishes fright.

“N-no, Gaeul—I j-just want to fuck your pussy now. You d-did a brilliant job sucking m-me off. I’ll feel that until later…”

A sigh of relief escapes her lips knowing that you’re not disappointed or frustrated with her performance but rather enjoyed it.

Now getting up from her previous position, you guide her towards the bed as you completely undress yourself. She strips her clothes slowly, as you watch in amusement, your dick still twitching in need as her full body is on display—petite breasts, small waist, plump butt, mouth-watering thighs and to top it all off, her dripping, wet holes.

“Sorry if it’s not too—”

“Oh come on, Gaeul—it’s perfect just the way it is.”

You then pin her slowly on the bed, kissing lips passionately as she smiles because of your compliments. You then pepper her collarbones with kisses, causing her to moan in need as she’s asking you something that will rile you up for sure.

“How would you w-want to fuck me, Seol-ie, hm?”

A daring question but you’ll immediately answer—

“I’d like to take you from behind, baby. Wanna see this plump ass get pummeled and your holes get wet with my dick.”

“I’d love to be the guest of t-that—hihi~”

She now positions herself in all fours, her arms supporting her body and her face being buried against the mattress. You can see the wetness on her core and it’s oh-so mouth-watering to be feasted on—as much as you want to eat her pussy up, you don’t want to waste time as you want to fuck her and feel her heat.

You brush your fingers against her wet folds, earning a squirm from the petite lady on all fours. You tease your leaking slit onto her labia which causes her to beg for more and moan sexily, her lewd tone ringing around your ear.

“P-please, j-just put it in to me—just w-want to feel your—oh, fuck!”

Surprising her, you insert your tip onto the entrance of her heated core as you groan on how tight it is—much tighter than what you expect. After all, it was an unclaimed pussy so you weren’t surprised either.

“Gosh—so fucking tight, Gaeul! So, so, fucking tight—arghh, I’m pounding you real good…”

“Please d-do—ahh, you’re stretching me out!”

“It’s just my tip inside you, yet. Wait until you feel it all—the real one…”

And you unleash the beast inside you by bringing in a moderate pace, fucking her with a force that’s not too hard yet not too lacking either. It’s a great pace for and you and her to get used to each other as you gently fuck her—just withdrawing with the tip inside and then slamming back in, balls-deep into her tight, little cunt.

Within a minute of intimate, moderate sex, exchange of lustful moans adding up to the sea caused earlier and passionate kissing, you start to pummel your whole length into her harder and faster, the pace quickly building up as she can feel it to, moaning uncontrollably as her pussy constricts around your length, gripping hard because of the sudden course of pleasure. You groan in pain on how tight she is but because on how wet she is, it wasn’t an issue to fuck her like an animal.

With your whole shaft going inside her in every thrust you make, you inevitably moan in delight as the serotonin you’re feeling is insane and it just fuels you to protrude your whole length into her without letting her catch a breath. You grip her hips and fuck her relentlessly, your aim is to make her feel good and make her feel the best sex of her whole life as every clash of your bodies makes a dissonance to the symphony of moans the both of you are composing—the oxymoron (contradiction) probably making things spicier and better.

“God—S-Seol-ie! You’re fu—mmph!”

“I want to hear you, Gaeul.”

After burying her head onto the mattress because of how she’s feeling so good, you gained the courage to support herself on getting up so you can hear her profanities once more.

“You’re f-fucking m-me too well—ahh—gosh, you’re treating me l-like a toy and I—gahh—love i-it! Please p-pound my cunt!”

“Don’t w-worry, Gaeul—I’ll give you the best sex session of your whole life and you won’t forget this day until the end of times. God—you’re pussy is so fucking tight and I l-love it. So fucking tight—so fucking ruinable…”

Bringing in pandemonium of thrust, the harmonious moans that once filled the air is now a dissonant maelstrom of groans and of course, moans, as you fuck her like an animal—your animalistic urges taking over you and winning. On how much she’s messing the sheets because of her cunt dripping like a broken faucet, you know that she’s about to cum, her first of the night and want to make it one hell of a first orgasm. So, with all the energy your hips can give, you grip the side of her hips and fucked her until her legs almost give out, giving everything you got as announces her near high, resulting you to quicken the pace up and fucking her harder.

“I’m gonna c-cum, Seol-ie! All over your c-cock—fuck, fuck—I’m cumming!!”

And you slow down and let her ride her high as her pussy constricts around your cock, almost suffocating it as she came harder than you expected, her body quivering as she moans (almost screams) in absolute state of bliss.

You swear to god, you’re going to be cleaning your bed after the both of you are done.

The both of you were a mess yet you wanna add up more than just a mess as you slowly pick up the pace of your hammering thrusts, earning a silent cry from the blonde-haired girl.

“P-please, Seol-ie—please f-fuck me harder—gahh!”

“Aren’t you still sensitive, baby?”

Concern filled your tone as you wanted to give her some breathing space but it seems like she doesn’t care about your frantic actions on using her pussy at your will.

“J-just please—fuck me hard and f-fast again, please!”

If she insists, who are you to resist?

It wasn’t even out of the choice, not when your tip is still in her, bringing in a leisurely slow pace as she cries and begs for you to hammer her pussy again. You wanted to chase your own orgasm too so you’re in the same boat with her right now and course, you’ll be the one who’ll do the fucking…

What in the world did you make Gaeul be so cock-drunken? What spell did you cast on her to make her impure?

Those were the questions not even science can answer in the right time, only you can but probably, you’ll never will. Increasing the pace immediately, you pound her like it’s your last but unlike the last time, you now lean onto the nape of her neck, resting your head onto it as you pepper her with kisses that add up the intensity and the passion that has been ignited since the start. It’s like gasoline being thrown to the flames of lust and need as you are definitely fulfilling her needs and there’s just one more step towards the apotheosis of this session.

Suckling onto the porcelain skin of her shoulders while you fuck her, it’s really a sigh to behold and a feeling you can’t help to be involved, truly. You weren’t far off reaching your intense climax as you can feel her core pulsating around your raging length, also signaling her near orgasm too.

“God—I’m fucking close, Gaeul. Where do you want it—”

“Inside me, please.”

“But are you—”

“Please, Wooseol! Let’s cum together.”

The silent mewl of desperation lingers around your ears as she cries in need, in need of your seed being deposited inside her, filling her up to the hilt—right towards her womb. Wanting to savor the last moments before the end of the climax, you pull out of her immediately and commanded her to face you as she does, inserting your length with no time to waste as you look deep in her eyes—those eyes that captivated you, lured you into wanting her, loving her, fucking her—those beatiful, brown eyes—

It felt surreal and your thoughts were just head-empty full of her as you kiss her lips as soon as you feel it breaking loose—and there it is—

You kiss her passionately as you unload everything inside her cunt as the love between the both of you surpass the heavens above and everything—every thick spurt makes her moan in need as her thighs quiver in response, also marking her second orgasm of the session. You didn’t stop kissing her as it became more heated but as soon as your orgasm died, you pulled out of her snug core slowly and so is detaching of your lips onto hers. The both of you exchanged smiles and laughs, both in your own euphoric trance and in the paramount of happiness. Once you pull out, you can see how much you’ve come inside her and creampied her well. She thanked you for that yet the worry settled in knowing that you came inside her and scared if she’s going to be—

“Pregnant? Oh c-come on, Seol-ie—I’m perfectly safe today, that's why I want to feel your seed inside me. Gosh—it feels so warm and thick—ahh, thank you.” Gaeul hugs you and kisses your cheek as a big thank you on fulfilling to live on earlier fantasies now turned into reality. You shared another kiss with her and this time, it’s just slow and delicate, full of love and passion.

“This feels enchanting, Seol-ie. I never felt this good in my life—woah… Oh my~”

“And I’m happy to make you feel that way, Gaeul.”

Another kiss on the forehead for further assurance as all she needs to giggle silently again.

“Gosh—I t-think we should clean up, together, Seol-ie…”

“If you insist, I’ll help you out—I need to clean up myself too.”

And yes, this night will go down to your own history books and hers too—

---------------------------

It doesn’t just get better than this—opting to clean up in the shower and end up having another intimate session is probably the best way to end this remarkable day. It was going all to well until you saw a notification on her phone while she was away—

“Y-Yujin?”

#ive smut #gaeul #gaeul x male reader #gaeul smut #gaeul fluff #gaeul angst

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seattlesellie · 9 months

Text

knight!ellie x princess!reader drabble. ♡🗡️🕯️

an: since i’m thinking of writing a full fic of knight ellie x princess reader i wanted to know what you guys think ! let me know if i should turn this into something way longer. just a lil peak of the themes of a longer fic 💗

cw: mature themes, reader is a little lonely, tension.

the moon is so bright, so big, so white, luminous, it reflects in her emerald eyes and renders them almost mystical, bordering on the verge of the unreal. one couldn't help but wonder if she herself was not entirely real, a specter of dreams made flesh. do you recall those distant days of childhood? just eight years old, insisting that your imaginary friend — aurora, was right by your side? you clung to her like a lifeline. you'd shed tears as your mother, the reigning queen, denied the request for an extra place setting, an empty plate reserved for aurora alone. how you fell asleep bawling, tasting salt on your tongue, bitter and sickening, feeling as if you were drowning in your sleep, the specter of aurora growing gaunt and wretched, as though starved for existence.

how you woke up plagued by guilt, tormented by a high fever and a stubborn eye infection, crying and screaming for your imaginary best friend. and how from that day on, the castle fell empty. you wandered around, through those regal halls like a specter, floating like a brittle ghost, nodding politely when a maid curtsied in reverence, offering a feeble smile to the steward as he addressed you as his cherished princess.

you filled your duties, all your royal obligations, attended to your classes, spoke only when spoken to by your parents, ignored when another royal called you a “loony” when catching you in the midst of a conversation with several alabaster rabbits.

you formed a connection with the world around you, a bond that ran far deeper than what met the eye, and now one knew.

you rub on your eyelids with the back of your hand, and blink in dismay — oh, you’ve been mistaken, she is real, and her abdomen rises and falls with each breath, the clang of her armor a testament to her existence, to your sanity. her eyelids flutter, and her throat subtly moves as she swallows. a strand of her auburn hair sways in the wind too, but sweet aurora’s hair also danced in the breeze, so who knows.

sometimes it all is simply too blurry.

for now, you choose to believe.

the grass tickles your bare toes, you don’t laugh.

“hate being a princess” you mutter with a sigh, tilting your head to the side — her side, to see if perhaps she vanished like the rest of them, yet finding her there.

her role as a knight is dictated with silence in your presence, a mere executor of commands from your father with a duty to bow in submission, so she doesn’t respond. all she has to do is be your protector, keep you safe and guarded, make sure you won’t try and run once more.

she’s also not supposed to help you with your clandestine escapades from the castle, she’s not supposed to lay in the tall royal gardens ridiculously green grass with the princess, to allow the opulent and delicate fabric of her dress to gently brush against the barest portion of her knee. yet — she allows it.

she’s not supposed to help you pick flowers and greet you good morning, she was supposed to be unyielding as stone, almost ephemeral yet ever-present.

and now your ankle shifted to rest gently against hers, and she didn’t even nudge you.

“i despise it” you repeat. you try and voice your frustration but it comes off as too soft. ellie typically abhorred anything soft. she’d rather sleep on a hard mattress than a plush one, favored stomping over floating.

and yet you seem to be an exception.

you seem to be an exception for lots of things.

and ellie doesn’t respond. she blinks at the full moon and it blinks back at her.

“do you like being a knight?”

you think you may have heard a breathy chuckle. you’re unsure, you sigh.

“ellie?”

and she never told you her name. you figured it out by yourself.

then she begins, pink tongue folding and moistening her lower lip. “i like being your knight”, she blinks thrice, in a hurry — like she said something wrong, as though she feared she might have offended anyone else whose knight she was not. she takes a deep breath, for some reason it's shaky.

“i like, i- need, to protect the kingdom. it’s my duty. for the sake of your father, the people, you — you know that, my princess”

and usually you’d cringe when addressed with that title. you voiced it already — that title isn’t you, you don’t want it, it felt like a burdensome label imposed or cursed upon your birth, but for some reason, when she says it ; “my princess” it feels like her “my”, is the one that holds the power to cloud your mind. and that’s why you don’t argue that it isn’t your name, because she calls you as hers, and oh how bad you want to be hers.

you overheard the conversations among the other young royals, who spoke in hushed tones about "crushes." you eves dropped and furrowed your brows intently when they talked about the charming sable boy, a dark haired prince from a faraway land, an adviser. they described the feeling of having a crush as if they were “falling”, “giddy”, “thrilled”, “like riding a horse, really really fast”

and it never really happened to you, albeit you really did try. you just accepted it, you’d be crush-less forever, forced to marry a crush-less prince, forced to live a crush-less life.

then you met knight ellie.

it happened when she removed her bascinet, when she casually tossed her tousled auburn locks from side to side, when she smiled that sly smirk then immediately wiped it off and glued her gaze to the stone wall. it was in the way her eyes met yours, her all but graceful bow, and the sound of her armored knee meeting the ground, when she chuckled after winning the battle of who would be the princesses knight. how cocky she looked as her arm was raised in triumph, only to transform into humble grace when officially declared the winner.

but it wasn't a feeling akin to falling; it was more like crashing down. you also didn’t feel giddy, you felt nauseous and tight everywhere, you weren’t thrilled you were petrified, and you didn’t ride a horse really fast — it was more like being thrown off the horse and crashing onto the ground, nose-first.

so it didn’t feel like crushing, it felt like something else. and you really had to go to the washroom.

“you don’t… owe anything to the kingdom, or to my father” you murmur.

she really doesn’t. it got her family starved, killed. “i do” she lies, swallowing thickly. “also, i really don’t need protection” then you lie, rolling your eyes with a huff.

she'd call you a brat if she wasn't your knight, and if she knew for certain that you wouldn't go running to your father after being offended.

“i should run away” you muse, idly toying with the hem of your dress. ellie sees the bare flesh of your thigh and she feels like maybe she shall run away as well. then her breath hitches down her throat, and she really hates it because this isn't the first time. perhaps she's sick, a throat infection. it's getting very hard to breathe.

t'must be the armor, the decides.

then she decided it's not.

it's simply the cold night air. definitely not your naked thigh, or your hunger to be free, or the way your dress flows with the wind, or the way your eyelashes flutter and your fingertips tap tap tap on your plushy lips.

“should i fetch the horse then, my princess? which one d'ya want, charlie... or buster, maybe. he's a strong one” ellie croons then swallows a chuckle.

she’s also not supposed to joke with you. or to stare at your thigh, or to let you place your head on her armored chest.

“yes” you reply like she’s serious.

then a cloud veils the once-bright moon, and your knight clears her throat.

“i should take you to your room, freedom warrior, s’getting late”

“you shall take me to the forest to pick some blackberries, knight”

ellie chuckles and argues back. “i shall not”

“disobeying a royal?” you say with a wink.

you might actually be the death of her.

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams x you #knight!ellie #ellie williams fluff

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gz-missfit · 9 months

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God the more I rewatch Etoiles fight the more it hurts. Hell the more I watch any parent fight their egg it hurts, from Max bawling over Trump to Quackity being basically insta killed by Tilin and Roiers anger as fake Bobby didn't attack them while Jaiden was filled with conflicting delusional happiness.

But especially this Etoiles fight yesterday puts the whole dinner into a much bigger perspective and I'd like to think that that's the reason why they put Phil in the fight with Etoiles.

They wanted him to hesitate.

They wanted Phil to be the burden during that fight because those things carry the names of his children, the children he'd burn the world down for. But they underestimated how strict Phil is with his trust and decision making to the point that even in egg form he treated them like they were monsters instead of his children.

Phil's special because while yes during Etoiles fight the code got better at adapting to an egg its still the same concept. He still had definite proof that that wasn't her but he still hesitated.

And I wanna go into the why of that, Phil's a hard-core player through and through and you will not get that out of his playstyle, you can see it on every multi-player server he's been on in the past because thats just how he plays the game. And as a hard-core player he probably has the most interesting relationship to mortality and is someone who can understand the eggs on a whole different level. But this means he's also INCREDIBLY aware of how much weight decision making carries and how even a single decision could decide over him staying alive or dying, he's used to that, it doesn't bother him anymore. That's why Phil is also someone who's very confident in his decisions, when he says he won't do or go to something because he knows the outcome then he means that and not even curiosity will get the better of him if he sees any form of danger or risk. If he tells Tallulah or Chayanne an instruction he expects them to follow it to a T because he gives those for good reasons each time (and both of his kids know that his instructions are teachings more than they are just him telling them to do something). And this confidence in his own decisions is why he fought those codes so relentlessly at the dinner, I'm convinced even if he hadn't gone back to get a picture of his kids he still would've fought these codes the same way. He trusts his experience and he trusts that he'll be able to deal with the consequences of his own decisions no matter if the outcome is good or bad. There's a reason why other players usually come to him for advice or when he spends time with someone he naturally falls into a teaching role, it's because he knows so much because he's had to know it all to survive in a world where death is inevitable.

Now why does that differ him from Etoiles? Well Him and Etoiles are good fighter's in their own ways. There's no doubt about that. But Etoiles is more upfront, he's smart during pvp and incredibly knowledgeable about statistics and strategy but ironically enough he still struggles to trust in his own words and decisions. He's someone who's quickly plagued by regret or doubts, it's why he praises Bad and Phil so much. Because both of them are incredibly headstrong and confident in their decisions just due to sheer experience. Etoiles just isn't even if his experience is just as good. And you can see this hesitancy even during the dinner fight, he didn't want to fight the codes until they hit him first. And it was Phil screaming to kill those things that made him set on actually attacking. Even when he got singled out later on and had a fake Tallulah follow him, he didn't attack until Phil confirmed Tallulah was safe with him. Etoiles trusts Bads and Phil's words a lot and holds them both in high regards when it comes to their opinions and decisions because he knows how much sheer experience those 2 carry. But during that fight yesterday he was alone, each of his actions couldn't be reassured because he was fighting alone and the actual Pomme wasn't there. He was terrified of making a wrong decision, even with Pierre reassuring him that it wasn't Pomme Etoiles couldn't bring himself to trust his own decision, even with their secret code not working Etoiles couldn't trust himself, even with seeing it carry the codes swords he couldn't trust himself. Even after the fight was over, after he saw Pommes bed with her sleeping tightly in it. He couldn't trust himself. He didn't feel like a winner to himself because his mind went into a spiral about of his decision was right or not, his mind screamed at him because he was sure he had fucked up royally and that's what makes it so interesting. Because Etoiles is a good fighter! And I'm pretty sure with equal gear he'd beat the 2 he holds in high regards to fighting skill a good amount. But he doesn't hold his own decision making very high, he's happy to be as help as a weapon that when he has to make a call he hesitates. And it didn't help that he had his daughters face stare at him while he had to make that important decision because while Phil loves his children just as much as Etoiles does, Phil never had to earn to be trusted with them. Phil's always been someone people trusted with the eggs while Etoiles had to earn his time with Pomme in promising he'll never let her die on his watch and will be careful beyond believe while he's with her.

It shows in the confidence of their decisions, and it's fascinating how much more it shows during these high tension moments. Etoiles is someone who struggles so much with the knowledge of failure and its what made his fight hurt so much more, because he was convinced he'd fucked up bad even after he saw her bed.

Just some food for thought about our codebreakers

#qsmp #qsmp etoiles #codebreakers #qsmp philza #qsmp code monster #textpost #void mumbling #just brrrrr pffff

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mrsnancywheeler · 4 months

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Sometimes when I be bored I think about Finnicks reaction to finding out his sweet girl is being forced into prostitution. Boy would be broken

no this is so real bc I also imagine the most angsty situations whenever I'm slightly bored which is why I write what I do lmao

tw talks about trafficking

but like imagine like you don't want to tell finnick about because he's already struggling and you want to comfort him without him worrying about you. so you bear the weight of it all alone until you can't anymore. you're able to say trips to the Capitol alone are for interviews with ceaser or to entertain the Captiol with whatever talent you've chosen, which is true except you're also being forced to entertain in other ways. and marks or bruises can only be explained as a fall or brushed off so many times before they become suspicious. and finnick notices that sometimes you just don't feel there anymore, like you've left your body, but the moment he brings it to you snap back into being comforting, happy, and supportive. finnick probably knows deep down before he actually comes to terms with it and when he does he's so broken up about it. why you? why didn't you want to tell him? how did he not notice ever sooner? what can he do for you?

and one night you're just laying in bed, he's been staring at the page of a book, but not focused on it. he's too busy fully realizing the truth and there you are laying down, staring at the ceiling, completely gone.

"Snow's selling you isn't he?" Finnick would ask it in the quietest tone and he's trying not to cry because you're his sweet girl, so loveable and soft, and now the Capitol is using you, breaking you down.

And he knows it's true when you just stare back at him, eyes so sad and a little shocked he figured it out. then you're both just staring at each other untill you're both bawling. and finnick is holding you like he's terrified to let go.

"why didn't you tell me?" he's mumbling out between choked sobs

"you just already have so much, I didn't want to add to your plate" and you're just so worried about him and he hates it and loves it

"I'm supposed to help you too, not just you with me. do you understand?" and you're nodding, saying you're sorry, and he's telling you it's okay

AND ON THE FLIP SIDE

finnick's girl, his sweet, gorgeous love, who recently won her games coming to finnick and telling him snow is planning on selling her

like you're all solemn and nervous, playing with your fingers and trying not to cry. finnick is so confused about the silence and what's going on so he's racking his mind to see if he did something.

and eventually with a shaky voice and tears on the brim of your eyelids you're like, "snow's going to sell me" and finnick's world comes crashing down

he's supposed to keep you safe which he already nearly failed at when you were reaped and almost died in the arena. "no, I'll talk to snow, I'll just take more, I can do it, I can handle it. not you, sweet girl, they can't have you." and he's just a wreck of tears trying to scramble for the next move in the chess game of the Captiol

"finnick, you're not going to do that." and your voice is still so soft, hands on his arm . "you can't do more, I can, and I'm popular right now"

and finnick's trying to insist, but you're hushing him as you cry until you start to really sob and crumble in his grasp so he's back in alert mode. stroking you hair, telling you he's got you, that things will turn out okay

anyways yeah a couple long thoughts I had about this, sorry lmao

#wanda 💋#finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x y/n #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair angst #finnick odair x reader fluff #finnick odair x you #finnick odair x reader angst #finnick odair fanfic #anon

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glossamerfaerie · 2 months

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ACOTAR characters and the solar eclipse

Cassian: stares directly at the hidden sun without protective glasses, the dummy.

Nesta: whacks Cassian for his stupidity. She is unamused by her mate tackling her into his arms and flying straight into the clouds. Once she stops scowling and struggling, Nesta is quietly awed by how beautiful the sky looks. They spend the next few hours in the skies, flying north and following the eclipse’s path to the Illyrian mountains.**

Gwyn: hangs out in the training ground with her fellow priestesses, Emerie, and Azriel. Cassian had grabbed Nesta in the middle of training, and everyone else had agreed to pause their drills to admire the sky. While the priestesses and Emerie chatter amongst themselves, Gwyn notices that Az has removed himself from the group and is standing near the weapon rack. Gwyn approaches Az, teasing him that as a Shadowsinger, the eclipse is a triumphant moment for the shadows to come out and conquer the training ground. A puzzled Az asks what she means. Gwyn shrugs, explaining that she’d noticed that the shadows avoid direct sunlight and stay away during morning training. She’d only ever seen them at night or inside the house, you see. At these words, the shadows cautiously exit the House of Wind — but they don’t swarm the darkened training ground like Gwyn expected. Instead the shadows stay close to Gwyn for the duration of the eclipse. Gwyn laughs in delight and pretends to bat them away in jest. When the returning sunshine marks the end of the eclipse, the shadows don’t disappear into the safety of the house. To Az’s shock, the shadows hover around Gwyn for the rest of training, seemingly immune to their fear of sunlight for the first time ever.

Feyre, Rhys, and Nyx: Feyre has ensured that Nyx can’t take off his protective glasses by accident, taping them securely to the back of his head. When the eclipse starts, Nyx gets very upset and starts bawling — not because he’s scared of the dark, but because this has never happened before and it’s scary. Feyre quickly uses her Day Court power to light up her body, distracting Nyx and providing a source of light. When that doesn’t quell the crying, Rhys comes over and does his Night Court blanket of darkness trick, coating the River House with his power and stars. It’s still dark, but Nyx is familiar with this kind of darkness and stops fussing. 🥹

Elain: watches the eclipse in her garden. Alone. When the sun disappears, Elain suddenly, desperately, irrationally wishes for Luci sunshine. She wishes for sunshine, nothing else. Elain is relieved when the world goes back to normal an hour later, chalking up her pesky thoughts to temporary insanity and sun deprivation.

Helion: there’s no solar eclipse in the Day Court, duh. The Prythian path of totality has a random break between the Dawn and Night courts. Even science and gravitational physics have to obey the court borders, obviously. Rhys did invite Helion to view the eclipse in Velaris, but Helion declined. He’d attended a previous eclipse centuries ago and felt his magic wane during the phenomenon; while beautiful to witness, Helion has no desire to experience that vulnerability again after Amarantha’s imprisonment.***

————

I wrote this out very quickly and missed some folks — I’d love to know how you think the characters would react! Wanna add your own take? Feel free to reblog or comment. ☀️🌄☀️

** Yes, I know the eclipse travelled southwest in the real world, but let’s pretend it can go north. I don’t know if that’s possible with science 😭

*** Idea shamelessly stolen from Avatar: The Last Airbender 😅 Hey, it makes sense!

#my acotar headcanons #gwynriel #elucien #feysand #nessian #gwyneth berdara #azriel #lucien vanserra #elain archeron #feyre archeron #rhysand #nesta archeron #cassian #pro gwyn #gwyn x azriel #nyx archeron #helion spell cleaver #emerie

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chastiefoul · 8 months

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"banyak yang tak ku ahli, begitu pula menyambutmu tak kembali." | xiao

translates to: there are a lot of things i am not good at; including accepting the fact that you're not coming back home. notes: i feel so sick im gonna puke he's my favorite why am i doing this to him / hehe bawled my eyes out writing this / the title came from a song called 'rumpang' by nadin amizah. warning: angst, death (reader's)

loving you is so easy, that’s what xiao thinks. and for a man who’s dead set on not letting anyone tear off the walls caving around his heart, that’s saying a lot.

xiao had always attracted attention; whether by his superb strength, unworldly striking appearance, and of course the tale of the conqueror of demon that hardly left the shouts of the storytellers and whispers amongst liyue residents.

where most people approached him with mere curiosity and no more, they’re quick to run off after witnessing the cruelty in how he fights. yet, no one stayed to see the way he staggered as the outcome of using his eerie power got to him. wounded and alone, that’s how he spent most of his time.

fortunately, that’s how he met you that day. so troublesome, so unnecessarily selfless he thought, that you pull out what’s already a limited resources from your bag, treating his wounds like he’s a broken glass—the notion almost made him chuckle. “i am an illuminated beast, i have grown accustomed to injuries like this,” xiao said, as he made no effort to move his arm as you inspect it. “whatever being you are, even if you’re used it it means nothing. you’re still hurt.”

in the same day, verr goldet looked like as if she saw a miracle when xiao returned to wangshu inn, with you beside him as you assist him. well can anybody blame her? the yaksha who seemed to adore teleporting away to nobody knows where is now willingly be helped? what’s next, xiao falls in love?

that thought meant to be a sarcastic statement since that time it had zero percent probability on happening. but alas, that’s exactly what happened.

to be fair, xiao himself has erased his ties with that term. it’s always been a strange concept for him to grasp—the only time he’s close into perhaps understanding it, his fellow yakshas succumbed to their karmic debt; leaving him alone. and since, he’s no interested in something remotely even close that will involve his own emotions.

however like it’s said. loving you was easy, even especially for xiao. your kindness, compassion, quirks he finds amusing—your insistence. long he’s standing in mortal world, being with you somehow were the only times where he felt human. the loud thumping in his chest, the weird tight grip in his stomach, a warm sensation inside his chest. these lovely traits that somehow always revolved around you.

“ah, this must be love. i am sure.” he pondered to no one.

overjoyed did not even begin to explain the feelings he experienced when you reciprocated his endearment. from then on, xiao finally rediscover the exhilaration running through his veins that he have something to look forward to each day. being with you.

from then on, many times were spent together, many dates were planned, lots of kisses were shared. the talks, the laughs, the stories unfolded. love happened.

still, all good things must come to an end, don’t they?

✧

it all happened so fast, a rare time where the yaksha was momentarily distracted as you both were spending a nice time together in jueyun karst; an arrow you saw coming directly to your lover and your body moved without thinking, shielding xiao from the impact as the sharp object impaled you straight on the chest that you gasped.

and more than when he was surrounded by hundreds of enemy in the archons war, so much more than when liyue’s safety was compromised, xiao was panicked.

anger blinded him as he swiftly obliterated the threat before rushing to your side, holding your head close to his side. “stay, please.” he cried out desperately, sensing how little the life you have left. “xiao.. i love.. you.” you managed to let out the last of what you could force out and you were grateful that you were able to say that to him for the last time. after a few more seconds, the noise of painful breath hitching your throat grew silent, and xiao knew the body he’s currently hugging so tight, holds no more of your life.

xiao laid your corpse on the field where glaze lilies scattered—your favorite. he took you in once more, caressing your face so softly. “when i say mortals are weak, was this how you plan to prove me wrong? by dying to protect me? if it was i concede defeat once more, my love. you’re right—as always. so will you please wake up?”

drops of tears fell from his eyes, the guarded and unwavering yaksha broke down into heart-wrenching sobs and screams of agony.

his grief quickly twisted in to an unimaginable wrath, a story of where a portion of jueyun karst was ruined unfolded. it could be more, but fortunately morax was there catch the news as he was promptly forced to use a fraction of his power to appease the raging adeptus.

✧

“i am only excellent at fighting and everything that evolved in the world of violent, that’s it.” is what he always says, and the statement remains to be true, xiao is indeed not good at a lot of things. he just did not realize before one of them is accepting the fact the people dear to him will always leave, somehow.

you, who’s sweet, so utterly sweet that you made him forget momentarily about his fondness towards almond tofu. the lightness you brought, the marvel—no the art, of being near you; if almond tofu reminded him of how dreams tasted, you introduced him to a whole another level of wonderment. “archons, perhaps this feeling is as close i can get to experience what celestia must felt like—and it’s enough.” he thought.

you, whose promises were too good to be true but xiao couldn’t help but still lured—he thought it was okay if it’s you. who so easily made him relent and believed at another eternity where he’s freed from the darkness and karmic debt. a quaint little peace of mind where he’s assured if it’s with you, he can be finally be happy.

oh, how naive of the yaksha who lived through two thousand years.

how naive.

#genshin x reader #genshin scenarios #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #genshin fanfic #genshin angst #genshin xiao #xiao x reader #xiao angst #xiao x you

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bradshawsbaby · 1 year

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Forever Valentine

Pairing: Rooster x Fiancée!Reader

Author’s Note: It’s been a hot minute since I’ve written anything for the Bradshaws, huh? I had a weird anxiety about writing this one, which I think was due in part to the fact that I haven’t written for them since Christmas. But I’m happy with how this little story came out! It was written for @roosterforme’s #love is in the air tgm challenge! The song that inspired it is Can’t Take My Eyes Off You by Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Pre-wedding stress, a smidge of angst, and a whole lot of fluff.

You felt like you were going to cry.

You couldn’t remember ever feeling so stressed out about anything in your life, and that included the time you registered for that anthropology class in the spring semester of your senior year thinking it would be an easy three credits, only for it to end up being more work than all four years of college combined. At least your stress had made sense then—bioarchaeology wasn’t necessarily the most chipper of topics. But now? This was supposed to be the most exciting time of your life, and you felt like you were ruining all the joy by letting yourself get so worked up.

In a little over a week, you would be walking down the aisle to join your life forevermore to the man you loved more than anything in the world.

And yet, you were frantic.

Despite the fact that you and Bradley had been engaged for over a year, and that you’d been planning your wedding for nearly as long, it still felt like there wasn’t enough time to get everything done. The past month alone had felt like a whirlwind, an endless marathon where you kept running and pushing, and yet somehow never made it past the finish line.

Bradley had been amazing, as he always was. While he couldn’t really care less about wedding details—he would have been just as happy getting married in bathing suits at The Hard Deck as he was to get married in his dress whites at the church you’d booked last year—he never failed to offer his unending support and encouragement. He went with you on every venue tour, tasted every flavor of cake imaginable, let you drive him to the brink of insanity comparing floral arrangements, sat up with you all night making seating charts, left you encouraging notes when you went dress shopping, and held you tightly whenever the stress of it all became too much and you just needed to bawl your eyes out.

If you had ever doubted that Bradley Bradshaw was the man for you—which you hadn’t—his devotion and patience during the wedding planning process would have sealed the deal for you. You still weren’t sure how you had ever gotten so blessed, but at least now you’d have the rest of your life to thank your lucky stars for it.

At the moment, however, you weren’t exactly feeling blessed. Stressed was probably the more appropriate term.

In just a week and a day, you and Bradley would finally be saying “I do,” but it felt like there were a million things that needed to be done before that time. Penny and Phoenix had been an amazing help, and your mom would be here in a few days to help tie up some of the last minute details, but you’d always had a hard time delegating and ended up putting too much pressure on your own shoulders. Bradley affectionately scolded you about it all the time.

“Honey, why don’t you let Penny help you with this?” he’d asked one night, pressing a kiss to your shoulder as he watched you fuss over the menu options for the reception. “You know she’d be happy to.”

“I know,” you’d nodded in response, brow furrowed in concentration. “But I don’t want to bother her.”

“Can I do anything?” he asked on other occasions, always looking a bit terrified by all the checklists and folders you had scattered around you at any given time.

“No, no, it’s okay,” you always rushed to reassure him. “I’ve got it.”

Still, he always stayed with you and made sure, in the midst of everything, that you were eating enough and drinking plenty of water. And that mattered so much more than anything else he could have done.

Your heart was pierced with guilt now as you sat in the living room of your apartment, making final confirmations with vendors and going over your checklists for the one hundred millionth time. Your fiancé was such a good man—the best man you had ever known. And he had been your rock through all of this. Not only were you concerned about the wedding and your honeymoon plans, but you and Bradley had also recently closed on the apartment where you were going to begin your lives together as husband and wife, and planning for that move was taking up a good chunk of space in your brain. Still, he had never once complained about how scatter-brained you’d been recently. On the contrary, he’d spent the past several weeks trying everything in his power to lift some of your self-imposed pressure off your shoulders. Bradley had done nothing but show his love for you at every turn.

And how did you repay all that love and kindness? You’d forgotten that today was Valentine’s Day.

Bradley had stayed over at your place the night before, as he often did, but you had been up so late, talking on the phone with your mom for hours, that you’d slept through both of his alarms this morning. Evidently he hadn’t wanted to disturb you, because you had no memory at all of him climbing out of bed and getting ready for work. When you did wake up a few hours later, however, you walked into the kitchen to find a yellow rose—your favorite—sitting beside the coffee pot, along with a little handwritten Post-it note stuck to the machine.

Happy Valentine’s Day, honey! I love you so much and I can’t wait to be your husband. Just 8 more days!

You felt like you’d been hit by a freight train. Despite all your careful planning and compulsive checklists, you’d somehow completely overlooked the fact that today was February 14th. You felt like the world’s worst fiancée.

In all fairness, you and Bradley had already talked about how you weren’t going to do anything big for Valentine’s Day this year.

“I know it’ll be a week before the wedding, and you’ve got so much going on, so we can keep it simple this year,” Bradley had murmured as the two of you had been lying in bed together. “We’ll just get to celebrate double next year,” he added with a grin, kissing your forehead.

“Sounds like a plan,” you had laughed in response, snuggling against his chest.

But this went beyond keeping it simple. You hadn’t even remembered. Bradley had been sweet enough to still find a way to make you feel special, and you hadn’t even woken up to give him a kiss goodbye this morning.

Hurrying back to your bedroom, you snatched up your phone and immediately opened your messages with Bradley.

Happy Valentine’s Day, baby! I love you! ♥️

A few minutes later, you heard your phone buzz and glanced down to see your fiancé’s response.

See you tonight, honey 😘

Bradley didn’t even necessarily know you had forgotten, but you still felt horribly guilty all the same. That afternoon, in between making phone calls, you raced out to the store and picked up some of his favorites candies and treats. You also placed a take-out order for dinner from his favorite restaurant, knowing you wouldn’t have time to cook for him this year.

You loved him more than anything, and you wanted him to know that. As special as he always made you feel, you wanted him to be confident in the knowledge that he was just as special and precious to you.

Thankfully, you managed to arrive back to your apartment with dinner before Bradley returned from work. Having already set out the candy you’d bought for him on the kitchen table, you popped the food into the oven to keep it warm for when he was ready to eat.

Plopping back down on the couch, you only had a few minutes to review your venue contract before you heard the front door to your apartment opening, Bradley using the key you’d given him before the two of you had even gotten engaged.

“Honey?” he called out, his deep voice causing goosebumps to rise on your arms immediately. You could definitely get used to hearing that greeting every night for the rest of your life.

Dropping the contract and jumping up off the couch, you hurried to the entryway to greet him, flinging your arms around him and kissing him deeply. You could feel his mustache tickling your upper lip, which made you giggle against his mouth.

“Well hello,” Bradley grinned when you finally pulled back, his arms settling snugly around your waist. “That was quite a greeting after a long day of flight maneuvers,” he chuckled, nuzzling his nose against yours as he leaned in closer.

“I missed you,” you told him, cupping his face in your hands and brushing another kiss, softer this time, against his lips.

Bradley smiled into the kiss, squeezing your hip affectionately. “Mmm, I missed you, too. You looked so tired that I didn’t want to disturb you this morning, but I missed getting to give you a proper goodbye before I left,” he admitted, peppering your jawline with gentle pecks.

His words were full of tenderness, but you felt a stab of guilt once more. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, burying your face in his neck as you wrapped your arms around him more tightly and hugged him close.

Surprised, Bradley chuckled lightly and dropped a kiss on the top of your head. “You don’t have to be sorry, baby. I know you were up late.” His large fingers brushed up and down your spine comfortingly. “Hope you treated yourself to a nice, big cup of coffee this morning.”

You nodded, your face still pressed in the crook between his neck and his shoulder. “I did. Thank you for the rose and the note. It made my day,” you said softly, your lips ghosting across his shoulder.

“Of course,” he murmured, his fingers playing with the ends of your hair. “I know we said we weren’t going to do anything too big, but I still wanted to do something for you for Valentine’s Day. I’m sorry it wasn’t much,” he apologized.

“Don’t say sorry,” you insisted, pulling back and looking up into his dark brown eyes. “It was perfect.”

“So are you,” Bradley grinned, kissing you gently.

Trying to push away the minor guilt that was still gnawing uncomfortably at you, you took his hand and led him into the kitchen. “I picked up dinner for you, if you’re hungry now,” you told him, thinking of the chicken pot pie that was resting in the oven. Bradley always said that it was the only pot pie he’d ever tasted at a restaurant that reminded him of his mom’s. “Chicken pot pie from Duncan’s.”

“Oh, wow, really? Thank you, honey!” he said excitedly, squeezing your hand as he stepped into the kitchen with you. “Damn, and all this, too?” he added, his eyes widening as they took in all the candy and snacks you’d laid out on the table. “You’re spoiling me tonight, baby. You definitely beat me at the Valentine’s Day game this year.”

You weren’t expecting it, but Bradley’s words suddenly had you bursting into tears, covering your face with your hands as you stood over by the oven.

Dropping the pack of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups that he’d been holding, Bradley was by your side in an instant, wrapping you up in his arms and tucking your head underneath his chin. “Hey, hey, shh,” he murmured soothingly, rocking back and forth lightly. “What’s the matter, baby? What’s wrong?”

“I’m the worst fiancée ever!” you sobbed, hiccupping into his chest. “I don’t want you to think I’m so good! I totally forgot it was Valentine’s Day,” you confessed, sniffling loudly. “I only remembered when I saw your note this morning. So trust me, I most definitely did not beat you at the Valentine’s Day game.”

Bradley’s eyes widened as he listened to you ramble, one large hand moving up and down your back with firm strokes. Then, without warning, he started to laugh.

“It’s not funny!” you exclaimed, your face mottled with tears as you pulled back to glare up at him. “You do everything for me, and you’ve been so amazing, especially with all my wedding craziness, and I can’t even remember to buy you a piece of candy on Valentine’s Day? Some wife I’m going to make!” you cried irrationally.

Bradley sobered immediately at your outburst, holding your face in his hands and forcing you to look up at him. “Hey, I’m sorry,” he said, waiting until you made direct eye contact with him. “I’m sorry, honey. I shouldn’t have laughed. I know you’ve been under so much pressure lately,” he went on, brushing your tears away with his thumbs. “Between the wedding and the new apartment and everything else that you have going on, who cares that you forgot Valentine’s Day? I certainly don’t!”

“But I do,” you sniffled, reaching up to wipe your nose with the back of your hand. “I love you. I love you so much. And I want you to know that,” you explained, your voice trembling with further unshed tears.

“I do know that,” Bradley replied gently, caressing your cheek with a gentle hand. “It would be kind of crazy of me to doubt it considering we’re getting married next week,” he added with a soft chuckle. “Baby, you forgot one Valentine’s Day. Considering everything else you’ve been juggling—and juggling perfectly, I might add—it’s pretty amazing what you’re able to do on a daily basis. It doesn’t bother me at all that this slipped your mind.”

Crumpling, you buried your face in his chest and started to cry all over again.

“I think I know what this is really about,” Bradley murmured, resting his cheek against the top of your head and holding you close. “You’ve been way too stressed out about the wedding lately. And that’s my fault. I’ve been too preoccupied with work, and letting you deal with too much on your own.”

“No, that’s not true. You’ve been—”

Bradley silenced your interruption with a kiss, stroking your hair tenderly. “Our wedding is supposed to be a happy day, baby. The happiest day of our lives. I know it’s going to be for me because it’s the day I get to call you mine forever. And I want it to be for you, too. I want you to get to enjoy all the hard work you’ve been putting into making this such a special day for everyone. It should be a special day for you above everyone else.”

“It will be,” you promised, offering him a watery smile. “Because I can’t wait to marry you.”

He smiled, dropping another soft kiss on your lips. “No more stress, honey. No more worrying. No more planning. No more checklists. No more trying to do everything by yourself. I’m here for you. And I want to help you. It is our wedding, after all,” he told you with a teasing grin.

You let out a breathy laugh, nodding your head slowly. “You’re right,” you agreed softly.

“And no more beating yourself up about forgetting Valentine’s Day either,” Bradley insisted, resting his hands on your shoulders and shooting you a pointed look. “We’re going to have so many Valentine’s Days together, baby. If we remembered every single one, we’d run out of things to do. Trust me, I’m more than satisfied knowing that you’re my forever Valentine,” he smiled, curling his finger under your chin and lifting your face so that your eyes met.

“How do you always know the right thing to say?” you pouted playfully, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Bradley threw back his head and laughed at that, beaming. “You know, my mom used to say that she would ask my dad that same exact question. Usually, it was when he was managing to get out of trouble. Guess it’s just a Bradshaw quality.”

“Oh, well, thank goodness I’m marrying into such a good family then,” you giggled, leaning up to kiss him sweetly.

“You’re going to be the perfect addition to the Bradshaw clan,” Bradley smiled, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose.

You sighed softly, contentedly, as you snuggled up against his chest, resting your head on his shoulder. “I love you so much,” you whispered.

“I love you right back. More than words could ever say,” Bradley responded, turning his head so that his lips could brush against your forehead.

The two of you stood like that for a while, perfectly content to remain wrapped in each other’s arms as the tension of a long day seeped out of your bones. There was no place that felt safer than one another’s embrace.

You finally pulled back, giggling, when you heard Bradley’s stomach rumble.

“Sorry,” he grinned sheepishly, the tips of his ears turning pink. “Guess I’m hungrier than I realized.”

“Let me get dinner on the table for you,” you told him, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Why don’t you go freshen up?”

He nodded, dropping a quick succession of kisses on your mouth before stepping out of the kitchen.

Smiling, you cleared the kitchen table of all the candy you’d purchased, setting out plates and utensils before moving over to the oven to take out the food you’d ordered. Before you could place the food on the table, however, you suddenly heard music begin blaring from the speakers in the living room. You recognized those familiar strains.

You're just too good to be true

Can't take my eyes off of you

You'd be like Heaven to touch

I wanna hold you so much

At that moment, Bradley reappeared in the entryway to the kitchen, grinning from ear to ear.

“What’s this? A little mood music for dinner?” you laughed, resting a hand on your hip.

Stepping towards you, Bradley held out his hand with an infectious smile. “Dance with me,” he said, waiting patiently.

You didn’t hesitate as you slipped your hand into his, letting him pull you close to his chest as he spun you around the kitchen to the musical stylings of Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons.

“I love you, baby,” he sang against your ear, his voice melding with the music so perfectly that you were tempted to tease him about becoming the Fifth Season. But instead, you closed your eyes and let his soothing voice drift over you, washing away all the stress and anxiety that had been building up inside you these past few weeks.

You couldn’t wait to marry this man, this man who danced with you in the kitchen even when you had forgotten Valentine’s Day, and who spent every moment of every day reminding you how loved and cherished you were.

The day you became Mrs. Bradshaw would be the happiest day of your life. And it would have nothing to do with the floral arrangements or the wedding venue or the flavor of the cake. Instead, it would have everything to do with the man who was waiting for you at the end of the aisle. The man who wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off you, the same way you wouldn’t be able to take your eyes off him.

“I love you, Bradley Bradshaw,” you told him, beaming up at him as the song slowly started to come to an end.

“I love you, too, honey,” he smiled, kissing you deeply. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

#love is in the air tgm #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #rooster x future wife!reader #mr. & mrs. bradshaw #x reader #x female reader #top gun #top gun: maverick #miles teller

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natslildove · 1 year

Text

gif not mine

Bring you back

natasha romanoff x reader

summary: since vormir, you haven’t been in touch with any avenger, you went missing. no one knew where you were or if you were even still alive. until one day, you hear a knock on the door and a familiar face awakes something inside of you, you thought was long gone. hope.

warnings: swearing, panic attack

authors note: sorry it took me like 2 weeks.. i kind of forgot what the story was supposed to be lol. anyways !!!! hope you enjoy it ! <3

you can find the previous chapter here.

11:07 AM

You’ve been in the compound for less than an hour and you’re at Tony and Bruce’s lab, being overwhelmed with theories of how and why they think they can bring Natasha back.

But the thing is, they only have about 2 days. To be precise, 56 hours. Natasha died at 7:13 PM. That’s why is always so hard to sleep when every night around that time, your mind goes back to Vormir.

“We think that, if we find a way to get to Vormir in time, we might have a chance to stop her”, Tony said.

“Stop her? Won’t that reverse the whole ‘saving the world’ thing?”, you say while looking at the place. It’s a mess. Natasha would’ve hated.

“No, you see, time doesn’t work that way. We can’t go back in time and undo something. It would just create a different timeline, but not change ours. If we go back in time and kill Thanos, everything he’s done will still be done but, the second we kill him, another string of time would be created.”

“Says who?”

“Someone who knows about this stuff, trust me”, Bruce tries to convince you without revealing his source. You look at Tony who just makes a gesture suggesting you to ignore this part.

“So you’re saying that, basically, all we have to do is… Go to Vormir?”

“At the right time, yes”, Stark seems hopeful.

“And why don’t you just get a quinjet or something and go?”

“Because, and that’s the problem, Vormir is about 15.000 light years… We can’t get there.”

You knew it. All of this was just bullshit and suddenly you hated yourself even more for believing there might actually be a way of bringing her back. You try processing what Bruce just said and it’s like the whole universe is laughing at you for being so stupid. How could you. You were fine. Or at least you tried to believe you were. She’s dead. She is dead. Natasha is dead. Your girlfriend is dead. Girlfriend. God, you couldn’t even propose to her, the ring long forgotten somewhere in the locked room. This is all so stupid. You’re so stupid and your girlfriend is dead and you never even get to call her your fiancé or wife or nothing. Nothing. She was nothing now. You’re not even a widow, you’re just nothing. You’re no one and you have no one. You’re alone. It should’ve been you. Not her. She was perfect, she deserved to live. She deserved to win. She should be here.

“Woah, hey! Y/N! Hey, what happened?” Tony is holding your face between his hands and you just now realize you were crying. Bawling. You heart was beating so fast you felt like throwing up.

Fucking panic attacks.

You couldn’t speak, your eyes going back and forth but never really looking at the man in front of you. You shake your head and dries your tears with the back of your hands with a certain strength. You whole face is red and Tony and Bruce are giving you pitiful looks.

God, you hated this. So much.

“I’m fine, it’s fine” you take a deep breath, “Just keep going… How- Is there a way to get there or not?”

“Are you sure you’re okay? We can-“

“I’m fine!”, you cut Bruce, “I’m fine, okay? Just answer me”

“Uhm, there might be a way”

“Stop with this might this might that. Just fucking say it already”

“You know Carol? Captain Marvel, Space chick, blonde and tall?”

“I know of her”

“She got her powers from the Tesseract”, Tony continues, “And now, she can fly trough galaxies like, super fast!“

“So we need her?”

“Not exactly”, this time, Bruce says, “Carol is really, really far away, not even with all her powers she could get there in time. We can’t even reach her”, the scientist looks at you, “We need the Tesseract”

“To create a machine?”

“To hit someone with it”, Tony says while cleaning his throat. You barely even listened.

“What? Are you- Are you serious?”

“It could work”

“It could kill someone! This Carol chick only survived because she was half Kratos or something!”

“Kree, and yeah, maybe, but”, the sortear guy keeps trying to convince you, “It worked! All we need is someone willing to do it. Without risk tests and all the regular procedures we are legally required to do”

Oh. A lab rat. They needed a lab rat dumb enough to sacrifice their life’s for a maybe.

Maybe the person will die. Maybe the whole compound would explode. Maybe it wouldn’t even do nothing.

Maybe they’d get Natasha back.

“I’ll do it”

“Yeah, we know Romeo”, Tony smiles. Bruce walks fast to a closet, opening and grabbing a suit.

“We made from your old measures but…”, Banner looks at you up and down and you feel embarrassed and exposed, “We might need to tighten a little bit”

Ouch, what a way to call you malnourished.

12:33 - 55 hours and 20 minutes until Vormir

Bruce was still measuring you in the lab and it was quiet. You knew he had questions but you were grateful he didn’t asked them.

Yelena enters the place holding a bag os chips and a bottle of water. She doesn’t say anything just gives it to you.

“Eat. And drink it”

“I’m not really hungry”

“I literally did not asked anything”, she opens the bag while still in your hands and grabs some chips, “Natasha will hate to see you like this”, she smiles, “I can picture her complaining about your habits”’ now she laughs, “I mean, when she sees your house she will freak out! You killed all her plants! The place is a mess”

“You’ve only seen the outside”

“Sure”

“What do you mean, ‘sure’?”

“I mean…”, she steals more chips, “Sure”

You get this weird feeling that she’s been visiting you without you realizing it. It says a lot about you.

When Yelena stops rambling about her sister, that’s when you realize you’ve eaten some chips. Basically the whole bag, per se.

“You talk as if you’re sure this will work”, now you’re drinking the water. Yelena is smiling not only because of the conversation.

“Someone has to, right?”

Yeah. Someone has to.

1049 words.

taglist: @fxckmiup @janashstorm @smromanoff @natsxwife @makkaroni221 @marvelogic @thelonewriter247 @lizzeolsenismommy @g-athenaathens ( tumblr just won’t let me tag u idk why i’m sorry :(( )

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff smut #black widow

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gethooked · 5 months

Text

Having my baby ~ HOOK imagine

Hook and reader having their first child together - requested by @carlybow

Having a baby with Tyler in the beginning of your relationship was not what you expected on your 2024 timeline. It all started after HOOK defeated Samoa Joe for the AEW world championship. The night and the whole morning before your flight you guys celebrated if you know what I mean. A month later you realize you missed your period. You thought nothing of it as you always had irregular periods.

You told HOOK this and he told you, “You should take a pregnancy test just to make sure, we’ll handle the results as they come.” You were still unsure if you wanted to take the test but his reassurance helped you get through the period of waiting for the test result. After the 5 minutes of stalling you finally looked and it read “PREGNANT!” Once you read it you started bawling. “He’s gonna leave, he’s not ready to be a dad yet, his career just started!” you said.

After a little bit he knocked on the bathroom door, “Are you ok Y/N, what are the results sweetie?” said Tyler. You opened the door with tears all over your face and handed the test to Tyler to see the result himself. As soon as he read it, he brought you into a big bear hug playing with your hair, “It’ll be alright we got this!” he said. After that you really knew he was ready to be a dad. At your first appointment he made sure he had the day off of work so he could be there with you.

As soon as they started the ultrasound and found the baby he started tearing up this would be a recurrence at all of your ultrasound appointments. When he heard the heartbeat he started bawling like a kid if someone stole candy from them. “That’s our baby sweetie!” he would say every time he would hear the heartbeat. Whenever he would walk by you he would rub his hand all over your belly with a big smile on his face. When you get your cravings no matter how weird it is he would get it right away no matter what time of day or night it was.

One time you woke up at 3 in the morning for a craving of cheesecake with nacho cheese sauce on top. I know it's weird you have not craved anything like that before. You woke Tyler up and right away he went to the store and got you your cravings. “Here sweetie, I think this is the weirdest and nastiest craving you have ever had but I got it for you anyway.” Tyler said. You would sit in bed eating it and he would just stare at you with a smile on his face like the first time he knew you were the one.

As your bump got bigger it became harder for you to sleep due to your back hurting and the baby kicking all night. At one point he realized and ended up talking to the baby. “Look baby Senerchia it's time to go to bed, Mama is already in a lot of pain you kicking is making it worse. Give her a break. I love you, goodnight baby Senerchia.” Tyler said. After Tyler got done talking to the baby and kissing your bump the baby stopped and was calmed down. “Thank you,” you would say and give him a kiss on the lips before you got comfortable and fell asleep.

You guys decided that only you two wanted to know the gender so you did your own gender reveal. You guys decided on the cake reveal. You both were so nervous. As you guys both cut a piece and pulled it apart you both saw blue. You guys stopped what you were doing and dropped the knives and he pulled you into a big bear hug and kissed you on the head as you were crying from the excitement.

“Why are you crying?” Tyler said. “Their happy tears, leave me alone.” you would say. The day you hit 9 months is the exact same day you went into labor. Luckily Tyler didn’t leave for work yet. He rushed you guys to the hospital.

Once you got there you were admitted. After 16 hours of labor they decided you needed an emergency c-section. You were nervous and Tyler knew this, hell he was nervous himself. The best way he could reassure you was giving you kisses and telling you everything will be ok. As soon as you both heard your son cry you both started crying.

“That’s our boy!” you guys both would say at the same time. He would send you a big smile, give you a big kiss and go on to take pictures of your guy's son. Once you guys got home from the hospital he made sure that you guys and everything you needed or wanted. You needed to get something he would get instead of you having to get up and wake up the baby. You guys were the happiest parents on planet earth with your son.

You were just glad Tyler stayed with you and you guys had a very healthy baby boy. “I love you Y/N, I don’t know what I would do without you or our son.” said Tyler.

Taglist: @99hook @carlybow

(See my pinned post for requests, taglist, and Masterlist)

#hook aew #aew hook #hook #send hook #730 hook #aew hook imagine #hook imagine #aew hook x reader #hook aew imagine

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colourstreakgryffin · 8 months

Note

can you do Tanjiro x fem reader where he finds out that she’s been getting bullied and he comforts her?

if you’re not comfortable with that it’s ok, no pressure:3

Oooh! Okay! I think I can definitely do this one as I have a idea for Tanjiro this time. I love this boy so much! I assume this is set in a more Kimetsu Academy AU-based world!

Kamado Tanjiro- Protection Squad

Right from the very beginning, Tanjiro could tell something was wrong with you but he couldn’t place his finger on WHAT the problem actually was. The way you enter the class so gloomy and cry over your lunch in privacy

Who is hurting you?! … and what is their address?

Tanjiro doesn’t like to snoop, even on his crush. To him, it’s offensive and invasive but his concern for you elevates his morality. After a few days, he finally finds out the cause of your misery

Bullies… of course. Why didn’t he see it sooner? Your hidden bruises, the way you pull down your skirt. You have girls picking on you ruthlessly, and he couldn’t protect you from them

He was the worst. Such a idiot, why was he oblivious to your pain?! What kind of boyfriend would he make if he can’t even notice your distress

Tanjiro won’t accept that, girls find you annoying or ugly, in the slightest, his first priority is cheer you up then get those girls disciplined. Tanjiro immediately marches to you and pulls out of the room to talk with you alone

Your bawling breaks his heart into several crumb-sized pieces but he stays strong for you

“Hey! What is going on here?” A familiar yet angelic voice barks out firmly but politely from behind the backs of the typical popular girls that crowded you. It was like this everyday…

The girls would track you down, corner you, pull your hair, harass you, tell you to commit seppuku and berate your sense of self-worth. It has gotten so bad that you cried almost everyday and you never thought anybody would notice your wails for help but with the ways the girls snapped to face the voice, your sore puffy eyes lighten up, almost brighter than the sun as Tanjiro pouted firmly with his arms crossed

“Are you five bullying your junior? That is cruel and inhumane, you should know better! If have a problem! You should just talk about it!” Tanjiro pipes out, stepping closer without letting his eyes wonder off the group huddled over you. Despite his cute friendly face, gorgeous plum red eyes and sympathetic beautiful smile, Tanjiro always emitted this strange yet intimidating aura when he was angry and you could tell that he was angry

You could tell it was effecting the girls as a number of them shivered and cowardly tried to curl into themselves. Tanjiro would never raise a fist to a woman, rather they be cruel to another woman but he wasn’t above scaring them off. Once he had reached the miniature wave of people, his eyes gestured to the obvious black stump on the roof

The security cameras. Tanjiro must have had everything he seen himself be recorded, so he could have solid evidence

The group of over-blinged monstrous seniors rushed off, the blonde leader pulling at their wrists with a angry scowl, she devoted that ‘this was not over’. Once they had waddled away with their tails inbetween their legs, you felt your weakened knees collapse and Tanjiro reacted and acted much faster than you could process what happened and caught you before you could thump onto your knees

“Dokusha. Are you okay? Are you hurt? How long has this been happening? Why didn’t you tell me anything! I could have protected you sooner! Taken you to class every single day until they face punishment” Tanjiro let his heavy concern bleed out of him like a rapidly spilling wound, finally releasing from his tightening heart from it’s shackles as his arms continued to support you and lift you to your weak feet. Not even faltering one bit, Tanjiro kept gazing into your eyes with a soft smile

Those… gorgeous, sympathetic plum reds made you feel warm, fuzzy and glowing. As if all the hate and negativity over those girls’ harsh words were being vacuum-sucked out of your systems. You weren’t alone anymore, Tanjiro is here now and he knows everything but he only wished he knew sooner

He had failed you but no more, he refuses to fail you again

“Let it out, Dokusha… I promise, those girls won’t pick on you again. I will always be with you” Tanjiro gently spoke, treating your emotions as if they were as fragile as glass as he crouched down to pick you off your feet to better hold you in a defensive manner. You would have blown up in hot red blush and hysterically stutter at your longtime crush basically carrying you like a groom does to his bride but you were too upset to realise it, sobbing deeply and covering your face with your dainty, bruised palms

Tanjiro couldn’t standing have to hear your crying, each tear shed and sharp breath felt as if a knife was repetitively shanking his heart and it made him cringe at imaginary pain. You didn’t deserve to be in this much pain, you’re amazing. Why can’t those girls see that? See what he sees in you? You’re so sweet, so kind, so welcoming, so talented, so….

Beautiful

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sixthcav · 5 months

Text

signalis spoilers warning

i feel stupid discussing my feelings in public so i'll post them here where a. people seem to do it more often and b. no one really knows me. but what broke me the most about signalis was the tragedy of ariane's character. elster, of course, is also extremely tragic in her own right but ariane felt so relatable to me on a personal level that i can't watch that train ride scene or hear the music without bawling. the two happiest times of her life were when she was isolated from the world, on top of people picking on her she just didn't fit in with the society the eusan nation fostered, she was a misfit and looked like one, and to top it off her bioresonance likely turned these spoken words into a shout, so to speak. there was so little peace in her life, and even then the penrose mission was originally little more than a prolonged death. if not for elster, ariane would've likely decided to die alone in space. and even on top of that she had what little peace she had ripped away at the end. i don't think there's a story that breaks my heart more than hers.

#signalis #mira thoughts #or mira vent rather

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liz-allyn · 1 year

Text

sugar and vice, pt. 7 [mob!tasm!peter x fem!reader]

summary: For better or worse, they're talking it out.

words: 8.4 k

warning: mob-typical violence. graphic depiction of gun violence, whump. hurt/comfort. descriptions of violence. references to drug use. coersion. kidnapping. blood. toxic/yandere!peter (maybe, sorta), negative self talk, shameless forced proximity trope. ‘only ten one bed oops’ trope, imprisonment. slowest burn. a dash of questionable and/or morally grey intentions. extremely toxic relationships.

this is a darker, messier version of TASM Peter.

18+. you’re responsible for your own content consumption. but that being said, something, something, something, dark side... should mean something to you.

Go back to Part 6.

Part 7

What’s your biggest regret?

Where to begin?

Peter felt weak. The weight of Honey’s body in his arms was too much to bear. She sat with her back to him on the floor, legs akimbo, hunched over herself. Violent sobs racked through her body as she bawled, and screamed, and begged. Neither of them were even sure what she was begging for.

“Jus’wanna disappear,” she mumbled through hiccups and wails. “Please jus’wanna go’way...dontwannabehere...idont wanit... i don’t wannit”

Sitting on the floor behind her, he tightened his grip. His forearms harnessed her in, crossing them loosely across her chest. Every once in a while, she’d dig her nails into his skin, either knowingly or unknowingly. It didn’t matter. He let her. He’d let her flay him alive if it would end her suffering. Except that he knew that it wouldn’t. Personal experience.

She won’t forgive you. She won’t look at you. She was right about you.

weak... pathetic puny... useless

She was right. In many ways, this was his fault.

It’s a strange exercise to think of the million different decisions one makes in a day that binds them to their inevitable fate. In Honey’s case, all she had to do was smile at him. All Peter had to do was keep coming back to visit her. In the case of the two unfortunate victims of Fisk’s rage, all they had to do was show up for work.

And Honey didn’t know what Peter knew. Didn’t know the gory details the police left out of the press coverage. He wondered if he should ever tell her.

...you failed to protect them, you will always fail, you can’t protect the people you love, you can’t protect anyone, you are useless... alone... a drain on the world...

He listened to the voices in his mind as he listened to her agonized weeping. Soon the sounds were the same. A contrite sinner, standing trial for his crimes against the world. Ready to take whatever judgment handed down to him.

Just let her go... monster... Just get her as far away from here as possible. Somewhere warm, sunny beach somewhere... pariah... Just get as far away from her as possible... no good can come from this...disgusting pest... Don’t let her see what you really are.

Her cries began to fade, her body drained of its energy. He helped her stand, her legs wobbly, and moved her slowly to the couch. There, she buried her face in the cushions and cried even harder.

It was like a broken limb, even the slightest touch sent searing pain through ravaged nerve endings. The pain of a broken heart. The kind of pain that makes you want to detach from reality.

Peter knew it all too well.

His heart ached at the sound of her sobs. All he wanted to do was help the pain go away. Outside of jumping in front of a train, he only had one thing to offer her.

Hesitantly, he made the suggestion—the same dose of medicine she swallowed the day she arrived at the cabin. The only kindness he could offer was the reprieve from him. A break from the world that he’d trapped her in.

Without a second thought, she agreed. Hollow. Apathetic. Reckless.

With a frown, he crushed a pill and dropped the pulverized powder in a glass of juice.

He gently declined her request to give her back the bottle of champagne to wash it down. Watched her sorrowfully, as she downed the juice without a moment’s hesitation.

He knew it well. The kind of pain that makes you want to detach your soul from your body.

Without another word, she laid down on the sofa, squeezing her eyes shut and waited for unconsciousness to overtake her. Only when her eyes closed did he allow tears to squeak through his lids.

He had fought them off for as long as he could, rubbing his eyes furiously. Dragging his calloused fingers down his weathered face, muffling quiet sobs with his palms.

He listened carefully, focusing on her steady breaths. She was asleep at last. Peter was alone again, just him and his failure. He observed her body as she sunk into the sofa cushions, drifting further into a dreamless rest. He hoped that wherever her mind was, it was at peace.

He considered the awkward angle of her spine, the way her chin jutted in a way that was surely going to strain her neck. It looked uncomfortable. She was uncomfortable. He wanted her to be comfortable. His instinct was to pick her up and carry her to bed.

He stopped his hands from moving on their own accord. His heart sank as he thought about where his mind was leading.

Not her bed, but his. Their bed, if only she wanted it to be. It all felt so futile. A silly dream. For a young, foolish boy with nonsensical, fairy-tale thoughts, an old skateboard, and holes in his jeans.

He lifted her body from the couch and once again ascended the staircase. This time, he stopped at her door. The gate to her cell.

He laid her on the bed, carefully removed her shoes from her feet, and buried her in blankets. Brushing the hair from her face, he frowned at the tear trails on her cheeks.

He went to her bathroom and warmed up a washcloth. When he returned, he gently dabbed at her makeup, removing it to the best of his ability. Her skin was already so ravaged from salty tears, rubbing was only making it worse—you’re hurting her—no peace, only pain— and cursed himself again. He went back and located the makeup remover once it had proven to be difficult.

Returned to the bathroom. He used another washcloth, soaking it in cooler water, wringing it out, and using it as a compress against her flushed forehead and swollen eyes.

He sat in the armchair in the corner of her room, listening to the steadiness of her heart. The calmness of her breath. When the cloth had warmed up and dried out, he replaced it with a fresh one.

Again and again.

Over and over.

For hours.

He caught sight of himself in her mirror and could barely recognize the person staring back. Peter looked—he felt—so old. When did he get so old? Tired. Worn out from more sleepless nights than the current one. Dark-rimmed bags under his eyes. Stray silver hairs and dried blood dotted his dark beard. The lacerations made by her fingernails healed almost instantly. But he could still feel them.

They say that beards make you look older. He looked geriatric. Still, he didn’t look as old on the outside as he felt inside. Inside he was ancient. A relic. He’d only been on the earth for just under thirty-five years, but every breath felt like a chilly gust of wind through a decrepit, old tomb. His heart was a fossil.

You should’ve stopped Kingpin a long time ago, the quarreling voices reminded him. You could’ve saved those women. They’re dead because of you.

it should’ve been you... you are the weakness, the disease... you are the parasite... they are dead because of you...

Light was not her friend.

It fact, it was skull-fucking her.

Honey groaned as she wiped a semi-dry film of saliva from her cheek. Gross.

She felt gross. All over. Her head was throbbing, sinuses sore. Like the world’s worst hangover with a dash of the flu. Her mouth was desert dry. With bleary eyes, she glanced around to find herself back in her ‘guest’ room. Her prison cell, made of down-feathers and sherpa blankets.

Daylight chased away every shadow and lobotomized her aching skull. But it illuminated another fact: she was alone.

It was unclear whether that was a good thing, given that she felt like death. She glanced over and her eyes narrowed on a glass of water sitting on the nightstand. She practically licked her dry lips at the sight. She didn’t remember bringing the water to her room. Nor did she remember going to bed. Or drinking so heavily that she blacked out. Or—

Darkness shadowed over her like storm clouds on the horizon. She felt her heart sink into her chest as she suddenly remembered.

The party. The laptop. The news article.

Peter Fucking Parker.

Whatever sickness she felt multiplied ten-fold. It was like being sucked under the current of a black sea. She was drowning in agony once again, and all she could do was bite her wobbly lip. She had no more tears to shed. She’d cried them all out last night.

The details of the previous night were still unclear, like remnants of a dream slipping away. Only a vague recollection remained—her blubbering nonsensically to be knocked out.

He must have obliged her. Nothing after that registered.

She glanced around at her bed. It looked like she had been the only occupant. Looking to the beside, she noticed the wingback armchair had moved overnight. It drifted several feet from the corner, and had crawled suspiciously near the edge of the bed.

She glanced back at the water. It was from Peter. A kind gesture. An olive branch, perhaps. Something to ease pain that he knew she would feel in the morning.

She buried her face in her pillow, swallowing back her dry tongue.

Fuck his olives.

Hours passed.

She repeated the action of waking up to her nightmare, and then diving back under the waves, hoping to drown her misery in sleep. The cycle repeated, at least 5-6 times.

The sun shifted.

Her throat was raw.

The water had probably long-since warmed to room temperature. Maybe even more from being cast in the sun. She didn’t want it. Didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to care.

At some point, between the 8th and 9th cycle, she heard a light knock at the door. Two quick beats, then a third.

“Honey?” a voice called from the other side.

It could only be one person.

She rolled her eyes, the action reminding her just how dry they were. She squeezed her eyes shut.

“You awake?”

She stayed silent. Hoped to fall asleep again. Hoped he’d go away and leave her alone. Leave her in that room, to wilt and die like a neglected plant.

“It’s gettin’ pretty late in the day,” he explained kindly. How dare he provide her with that information. “Wonderin’ if you were hungry.”

Was she hungry? Yes. Did she want to move? Never. She should say so. She should tell him she’s not hungry. She should tell him to jump off a building. She should give him a piece of her mind. Scream. Scratch him again, but this time aim for his eyes. Bite.

She just didn’t want to move. The thought of getting out of bed, opening the door to see his likely apologetic face, and then spitting in it seemed so stressful, she’d rather not do anything at all.

Hate was exhausting. She’d never hated anyone before.

“I, uh, made you some food, uhm...”

She flicked her apathetic gaze back to the wall. Scoffed lightly. Pulled the blankets back over her head.

Seconds passed. She expected more of his charmingly-shy kind offers to spill out from behind the door, but instead there was silence. She wondered if he could somehow hear her indignation, as impossible as it seemed.

“Well, it’s ready. If you are.”

He sounded sad. Not just sad, but defeated. Resigned. She heard the scuff of his leather heel, then footsteps retreating, reverberating off of the hardwood floor.

Then it was quiet again.

She was alone. Again.

Another knocking rhythm. This time, when she opened her eyes, it was significantly darker. Late afternoon. Her stomach growling could confirm that.

“Honey, you decent?”

She rolled her eyes. How grandpa of him.

“I’m comin’ in,” he followed up, and suddenly she wanted to shout in protest. But the handle twisted and the door popped open, and from her periphery she could see Peter’s tall silhouette in the doorway.

She adjusted her head to remove him from her view. It was the most she’d moved in hours.

“How’re you feelin’, huh?”

She tucked her chin down, pulling her head further under the covers.

“Yeah, figured as much.” His somber tone held the weight of being the sole participant in the conversation. Much to her disappointment, Peter didn’t leave. Instead, she could hear him enter the room, the sound of his footsteps mingling with a gentle rattling noise.

She threw her eyes over at him for a moment. He carefully steadied a wooden tray in his arms. A several plates of different comfort foods were spread out, the aroma of which was enough to make her dizzy with starvation. She tried to ignore the gurgling of her stomach as he padded closer to her.

“Brought you some dinner,” he said as he approached the bedside, a pitiful glimmer of hope in his voice. She pierced him with a silent glare. “I know you gotta be hungry by now. I can hear your stomach growlin’ from downstairs.”

He said it with a light chuckle. She said nothing.

He sat the tray down on the foot of the bed, getting a good look at her broken state.

Good, she thought. Let him. Let him look upon his work, and despair.

Peter glanced over at the glass of water on the nightstand, still untouched. He frowned at the sight. Looked back down at her, chocolate eyes full of pity.

“A little water’ll make ya feel better,” he gently offered.

She stared into nothingness, avoiding eye contact. Imagined that she was a dead body. He was talking to a corpse.

Her silence made him fret. He kept trying. “How ‘bout a hot bath, then?”

“Why, were you planning on waterboarding me, too?” Her voice came out sharp and raspy, like the hiss of a rattlesnake. Her words packed the same amount of venom, too. She looked over at him selfishly, just to see the tissue damage her toxins inflicted.

A glimmer of disappointment crossed his face, his lips turning downward. It made her feel bad.

Damn it to hell.

He gazed at her quietly, reeling from the bite. Pursed his lips. Set his jaw firmly in place. “You gotta eat,” he declared with a carefully controlled tone. It was an edict.

She glowered defiantly. “I’m not hungry.”

“Bullshit,” he snapped back, nearly before she even finished her sentence. His volume remained muted, but his eyes were not. “You gotta take care of yourself. S’not a suggestion.”

“And what if I don’t?” Her voice had dropped an octave. She challenged him through slitted eyes. “What then, huh? You’re so busy with trying to protect me, what if we just cut to the finish? Take one thing off your to-do list.”

Peter’s jaw tensed. Nostrils flared. The sight of his anger was intimidating, despite her bratty resolve. Briefly, her nerve started to falter, but then he took a slow breath. “You’re angry,” he said, matter-of-factly. “I get that.” She was thrown off by the calmness of his response, despite every word coming out clipped. “You’re angry at me. I get that, too. You wanna take a shot at me? That’s okay. You wanna hit me, hit me. What you did yesterday? It felt good, din’it? Made you feel better. Stronger. By all means, don’t stop.”

As much as she fought against it, she felt a tinge of guilt at that. He railed on.

“Do whatever you want,” he added, raising his voice in challenge. “Scratch me. Beat me. Hit me with a rock. If you wanna hurt somebody, hurt me.” His eyes hardened as he fixed his gaze on her, timbre dropping deep. “But you are not allowed to hurt yourself. Got that?” His eyes pierced her as he said it, as if he could shoot lightning from his fingers and write his commandment in stone.

She gulped unintentionally, the courage she had moments ago evaporating in the heat of his stare. She locked her jaw to keep her lip from trembling. Her own weakness enraged her.

“Now sit up if you understand,” he reprimanded, through gritted teeth. As if she were a child. She felt like one—little in his gaze. Peter fixed a hard look on her, waiting impatiently for her to comply.

With rageful eyes, she sat up, yanking back the covers. Her spine cracked from the lack of movement. She threw her socked feet over the edge. Came to a firm stand, straightening herself in front of him. She took a bold step forward, holding his gaze. Bitterly and slowly, she reached for the tray of food.

Then she shoved it off the bed onto the bedroom floor. The china shattered with a crack, food and liquid splattering on his shoes, pieces of glass splintering out in every direction.

Neither of them ever broke their steel gazes.

She glared up at him and he leered down at her, both silently fuming. Hearts pounding. Chests aching.

“I think I’ll have that shower now,” she nonchalantly replied. The arrogance in her voice was sharp. Stunning, especially to herself. They remained in their stalemate before she took the first step, brushing past him into her bathroom and slamming the door.

In retrospect, it was a dumb idea. She stayed in the shower longer than necessary. Part of it was to maintain the facade of her new-found, devil-may-care attitude. The other utility was that she could hide.

After her bold protest, it took her all of about 5 seconds before she jumped back across the bathroom to lock the door. She prayed silently that he wouldn’t kick it down and respond—fucking brat, little bitch, I’ll show you—to her actions.

Frozen, she stood still and listened to the shower running. Listened for his inevitable footsteps. When they didn’t come, her shoulders relaxed. She took deep breaths until she had enough confidence to rid herself of her clothing and step inside the shower.

When she emerged from the bathroom, she cracked the door slightly. Peered inside. She opened the door a bit wider and glanced around. Peter was gone. So was the mess. She sighed with relief. And a bit of guilt—Always cleaning up your messes! When will you learn?—that she pushed to the back of her mind.

Wrapped in a bath sheet, she padded bare feet across the room towards her duffle bag on the dresser. She paused before reaching it. Felicia’s revelation from the night before echoed in her mind.

She turned to the double doors of the closet in her room, gazing at them nervously. Stepped up to it, as if she was approaching a gateway to Narnia. Threw open the doors to look—but this time, she really looked.

It was a gateway to Narnia. Or to a Neiman Marcus.

For all intents and purposes, it was a room within itself. A beautiful collection of steel-gray wooden cabinetry and opaque frosted glass. The room was brightly illuminated by recessed fixtures, and each shelving unit was individually lit. In the center of the walk-in closet—or, more aptly, the portal to a fashion blogger’s wet dream—there was a freestanding island for accessories next to a tufted ottoman.

Fascinated, she stepped over to one of the wardrobe doors and opened it. Lights flickered on to reveal a section of blouses hanging on a rod from velvet hangers. Each item of clothing was organized by color, starting with black, travelling with the natural flow of the spectrum, and ending on white.

The pattern repeated over again, this time sorted by type. Long sleeves. Short sleeves. No sleeves. Another cabinet revealed a drawer dedicated to dress trousers and jeans. Divided by fit and style, and then again by wash and color.

Whatever space there was reserved for pants, seven times that amount was dedicated solely to dresses.

So. Many. Dresses.

Bodycons. Shifts. Sheaths. Empire-waist. Cinched-waist. Drop-waist. A-line. V-line. Peasant, peplum and princess. Midi. Mini. Maxi (in case she grew a foot). Every color of the rainbow. In every pattern imaginable. For every imaginable occasion—weddings, funerals, runways, and run-ins with the law. Covering cocktail parties and Casual Fridays.

Additionally, each label was an alphabetical roll call of every reputable designer name, from the bold cuts of Alexander McQueen to exotic, flowing gowns from Zuhair Murad. Or so she guessed, since she hadn’t heard of most of these designers. They had yet to make their way to her local TJ Maxx.

She’d watched The Devil Wears Prada before. Certainly, Meryl Streep would’ve died of a heart attack at the sight of this room.

Jaw still agape, she turned her attention to the island. Approaching the side with drawers, she slid open the chest and her eyes went wide.

Lingerie. Sexy, sweet, and sensual. Row after row of lace, silk, satin, and mesh stacked neatly with coordinating pieces in rich colors. Fabrics that felt silky on her fingertips. Fabrics as soft and intimate as the inside of her body. She picked up and examined piece after piece, imagining the woman who would wear each one.

A black mesh and polyurethane open-cup playsuit with matching diamond garters and a jeweled leather collar. Perfect fit for a Femme Fatale.

For the Servant, a pink satin and lace brief paired with a Shibari-inspired body harness made from twisted, plaited, silk rope.

A silky-smooth navy blue corset embellished with cut Swarovski crystals on the bust for the Enchantress.

A lavender silk babydoll dress with a plunging V-neckline and French Chantilly lace floral accents for the Maiden.

So many women. All the archetypes represented. A multitude of girls to choose from.

She felt ill. Dizzy. Felt so hot under the recessed lighting, the back of her neck was sweating. Lightheaded. Clammy skin. She backed away from the island, fingers gripping the doorframe.

She remembered thinking, foolishly, that all of this must have belonged to other women. A girlfriend, or ex-girlfriends. Or just... girls. As if Peter had a harem, or a rotating troupe of interchangeable parts. Each of them serving their own utility. Each of them replaceable.

She was wrong.

Peter wasn’t a player. He was particular. A planner. And every item in that closet had been planned for her. Meticulously, he had chosen each piece. For her. Not for a multitude of different women. But for her to be any woman. Every woman. Whoever he wanted her to be.

His doll. Accessories included.

Two distinct forces clashed in her belly, like storm fronts converging. Pressure shifting. A cyclone forming.

One fomented horror—outrage, even—at this obsession with her. All of it looked like her size, too. How did he know her measurements so intimately? Clearly, he’d been looking at her—really looking. Fixated. That half of her brain felt disrespected by his objectification. Violated. Dirty at the thought of him picturing her in such intimate and provocative ways.

The other half felt heat building in her core. Tension pulled taut at her insides. Wetness between her thighs.

Each thought made her shiver.

The last remnants of the sun had vanished when Honey opened the door to her bedroom. She had changed into a conservative loungewear outfit: a pair of silky soft joggers and an oversized cotton t-shirt. She was extremely relieved to have found it.

Hesitantly, she poked her head out around the door, glancing down the hallway for any sign of Peter. Nothing. She looked down to her feet. On the floor next to her door was a covered plate. She picked it up. Inspected it.

A plate of turkey and cheese sandwiches. Cut into triangles, just like the picnic platter. She felt a pang in her chest at the sight.

Frowning, she soured at the memory of throwing her food on the floor. Such a waste. She would've never gotten away with that as a kid. Or even as a baby. It was so rude—ungrateful brat—why? Why was she always so rude?

With a sigh, she brought the plate inside her room and quietly cherished the meal. When she was finished, she had the urge to be a polite houseguest. She carried her emptied plate and empty water glass down the stairs to the kitchen. The least she could do was wash her own dishes.

She stopped suddenly as she rounded a corner, seeing Peter leaning over the kitchen bar. On the table surface, he had two books open in front of him, one of them a ruled composition book. He popped his head up a second after she arrived, mirroring her surprised expression.

She noted the dark-framed glasses on his face. He took a moment to push them back up the bridge of his nose. They made him look boyish. Cute, even. It was another bizarre subversion of expectation versus reality. Peter Parker, fearsome mob boss: hunched over his kitchen bar, scribbling notes like he’s studying for a Spanish quiz.

The moment he locked eyes with her, he was already looking away. Helplessly flustered by her appearance. He cleared his throat. “Um, hi.”

She shifted her weight between her feet, outwardly gripping the plate and glass in an awkward stance. “Hi.”

A long silence followed, for an indeterminate amount of time. Days, probably. “I... have this plate. And a cup.”

It was a promising beginning.

“Oh,” Peter replied quietly and uncomfortably, as if he were part of some odd British comedy. “You can just leave them by the sink. I’ll get to ‘em later.”

“I can wash them.” Her stomach was twisting in knots.

“No, no need for you to do that.” Kindly, he waved her off.

“I...I-I can put them in the dishwasher, if you’re gonna run it?”

“Oh, uh... I, um, don’t think we have enough for a full load.”

“Right. Conserving water. Important.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll wash ‘em before I go to bed.”

“But... I can wash them now.”

“No, really—”

“Peter,” her voice came out clipped. “I want to wash my dishes.” It was an edict. He pursed his lips, looking away sheepishly. She finally moved from her spot, carrying on to do what she came downstairs to do. She stopped at the kitchen sink, glancing around the counter. “Where do you keep your soap?”

“Oh, uh—under, under the-the sink.”

“I don’t see it.”

“It’s there. It’s... uh... blue.”

Her head was in the cabinet below when she exclaimed, “Jesus Christ, is this Ajax? You cheap bastard.” She pulled her head up over the edge of the counter, throwing him a scandalized look. “Where did you get this? The clearance section of a Dollar Store?”

Her abhorrance triggered a smile, flitted across his face as he shrugged. “Hey. It works.”

She wiggled her head, staring at him in disbelief. “It works, like... like the atomic bomb worked!” Her passion was evident. “You’re irradiating your hands every time you use this stuff.”

A light chuckle left his lips. “I’ve had worse.” His tongue stuck out idly as he licked them, a peculiar quirk. Her eyes were glued to the action. She remembered to close her mouth, then composed herself quickly. She could see and hear the vibration of his knee bouncing anxiously. Or it could’ve been the sound of her heart.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out. She exhaled sharply, eyes dropping to the floor. Full of guilt. “I shouldn’t have hit you. I never should’ve done that.”

Fidgeting, he tapped the pencil in his hands, but kept his tone calm. “It’s-It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” she countered immediately. The shame in her voice was palpable. “That’s... never okay. I’m sorry.” Her eyes wandered around the kitchen until she finally had the strength to meet his gaze. When she looked up at him, his eyes were heavy with a similar burden.

He exhaled gently, closing his notebook. “Look, it’s late.” He reached up and rubbed the bridge of his nose between his index and thumb, shifting his glasses briefly. “We both should get some rest.”

She mellowed as she observed the vulnerable gesture and decided that the glasses suited him. They were adorable.

Wearily, Peter pushed himself up to a stand, limbs heavy from exhaustion. He stepped out from behind the bar, stopping an arm’s length away from her. Politely, he extended his hand to her.

She looked down at his outstretched, calloused palm, then back up at him. Confused. “Where are we going?” she asked.

“To bed,” he said. As if it were obvious. The most natural thing in the world.

Her heart fluttered dizzyingly. It irritated her endlessly that she could not determine whether it was from excitement or fear. Her body tensed regardless, hair standing on end. A look of worry darkened her features. “I...uh...” She gulped. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

He tilted his head, disappointed. “It’s sleep. Just sleep.”

“That’s...” She struggled to form words, “No, I don’t know—”

“We can make a wall of pillows if it makes you feel more comfortable,” he teased flippantly.

“I don’t think it’s appropriate for us to sleep with each other,” she declared with resolve. She crossed her arms over her chest, feeling exposed. He read her face, recognizing her discomfort. “Next,” she urgently clarified. “Sleep next to each other. On the same mattress. Especially after...” She let the sentence drop. “Everything.”

Peter sighed gently, “That’s exactly why we should.” She tilted her head, curious and confused. She waited for an explanation. “Look, my Uncle Ben had a rule. When he and my aunt would go at it about something—it wasn’t a lot—but when it happened, he always made sure that they didn’t go to bed angry. No matter how bad it got.”

Honey gazed at him in disbelief. “That’s... what you think this is?”

“I don’t know what this is, Honey,” he replied. “And I don’t think I can figure that out tonight. So let’s sleep on it.”

She shook her head in timid protest. “Peter—”

“Please,” he replied, cutting her off. The vulnerable sincerity shone through his tone. “All I’m asking is for you to sleep next to—” He cut the sentence short, as if he could hear how it sounded and was frustrated. She watched him push his fingers back through his hair, tugging nervously. Brought his hand to his calloused lips, rubbed tiredly. His face told the story of an anxious, needy, touch-starved boy afraid to ask his crush to the prom.

“I need... I just need...” he struggled to say the right words as his eyes darted in every direction but towards her. Each time he’d open his mouth to speak, he’d slam his jaw shut, losing the nerve. He sighed in defeat, gazing up at her with warm, bourbon eyes. “I don’t think I can sleep,” he said, “without knowing you’re beside me. That-that when I wake up, you’ll still be there.”

There was something tragic in the soft way he spoke that threatened to rip her heart out of her chest. One look at his Bambi eyes and she felt weak. For a woman who’d always doubted that she possessed any maternal instincts, the urge to comfort this man reigned supreme. Forget the fact that he had a beard and was older than her. His vulnerability made her want to let him crawl into her lap like a kitten.

She sighed, and hated being a cat person.

Honey stood on the side of the bed that Peter had delegated to her two nights prior. There wasn’t any communication that affirmed that side of the bed was hers. It just happened. She pulled back his percale cotton covers and slipped her body inside.

It took some adjusting to get used to. She wasn’t used to wearing pants to bed, even if they were technically pajamas. But given the circumstances, Honey didn’t even want to remove her socks, like a Puritan zealot trying to pray the devil away.

And speak of the Devil. She glanced over in his direction right he approached.

The expanse of Peter’s milky-smooth skin yanked her from her thoughts and made all other brain function falter. Uncontrollably, she ogled him as he distractedly strolled into the bedroom, nonchalant and shirtless. Time slowed enough for her to take a good look. And she was embarrassed by how hungry for the sight she must have seemed.

What she couldn’t see from the back in the shower was on full display. He was ravishing. In sweatpants, no less. Deliciously carved pectorals, abdominals, biceps, and triceps, and suddenly she was an anatomy scholar—all the names for the muscle groups that she failed to remember in biology sprang to mind.

He had the same light freckling across his chest that she’d spotted on his neck and back. A few hairs on his chest, but the majority of it was located south of his navel, blazing a delectable dark trail beyond where his waistband hung low on his hips.

A closer inspection revealed discoloration around his ribs—the skin appearing as different shades of pink and white in contrast to his primary tone. Her eyes widened sinfully at the V of his torso. It was like a giant neon sign, and had always been her favorite part of the male physique to stare at.

Even at that moment, she was gawking. Imagining his torso as a slip-and-slide. His Adonis belt as the ridges of a soft-serve ice cream cone. Her tongue felt heavy in her mouth.

“Thirsty?”

She snapped out of it, her face blushing red. Back as straight as a board. “What?”

“Sometimes I bring a glass of water to bed,” he explained, conspicuously innocent. “In case my throat gets dry.”

“Nope. No. I’m good.” She was nodding too much. “No dryness here…” The sentence crashed in her throat as she focused on the pattern of the silk duvet.

She could feel the heated smirk emanating from him, like a solar flare on her blushing cheek. “Good,” he muttered in a tone so low it bordered on obscene.

He pulled back his side of the sheets and crawled inside. As his body slid home, she sat up urgently, putting more space in the gap between them.

“Look, I don’t know what you think is going to happen tonight,” she blurted out shakily, “but-but I’m not that kind of girl.”

He raised a brow. “And what kind of girl is that?”

“The... I… I don’t—” Her brain shot forward faster than her mouth could articulate. “’m not … I don’t just—I don’t just sleep with strangers.”

The humor died down his face, sinking behind the horizon of his regret. “Is’at what I am?” he mused in the shadows. There was a matter-of-factness to the statement, punctuated by lament.

Goddamn Bambi eyes.

She felt a rush of panic. Sympathy. Guilt. More panic. Self-loathing. Panic again. Then, inspiration. “Look, I’m deeply religious and I don’t believe in sex before marriage.”

Flailing, she clung to the lie like a buoy in the South Pacific. Wincing, she peeked to see his reaction.

Both of his brows raised now. “Is that a proposal?” he grinned. Mischief returning.

“Yes,” she quickly replied. More panic. “I mean no! Not—“ She huffed in frustration, mouth moving uselessly like a goldfish out of water. “I-I-I just... I don’t want you to touch me.”

Face flushed red, she looked like she’d just ripped off a bandaid. But it once it was done, her voice steadied. “I don’t want to be touched,” she declared, more confidently. Eyes bore into him. “Tell me you understand that. You want me to trust you, then swear to keep your word.”

He hesitated for a moment, sobering as he observed her veracity. His eyes softened. Nodded.

“Promise me, Peter,” she said. “I need you to say it.”

A shadow fell across his face. A memory, perhaps. Something bittersweet.

“I promise,” he replied. “No touching.” He gazed at her, watching her shoulders relax. There was a twinkle in his amber eyes—a Cheshire smile that didn’t quite reach his lips. “Until you ask me to,” he added.

She fixed him with an incredulous look. His cockyness was breathtaking.

Not that she was focused on his cocki—

“Deal?” he nudged her, recapturing her attention.

She held her gaze for several seconds, measuring the sincerity of his response. With a sigh, she nodded. “Deal.”

A few moments later, Peter turned out the bedside lamp. In the dark, she stared up at the canopy of the four-post bed, trying to steady her pulse. Trying to get what was happening out of her mind. Whatever it was that was happening.

The next morning, she woke up alone again. The room was quiet, and this time, she listened for the shower. Nothing. She used the opportunity to slip away.

Wandering down the hallway and tip-toeing back to her room, she paused at the top of the stairs. The TV was on, voices echoing from the great room below. Curiously, she followed the sound down the stairs until she saw her sorta roommate.

He was hunched over, sitting on the sofa, resting his weight on his elbows. There was a grim look souring his face, and at the same time, his eyes were distant. Like he was somewhere else again. His ankle moved anxiously, causing a bouncing tremor in his knee. He cupped his hands against his mouth, absentmindedly brooding in the glow of the TV screen.

He was fully dressed, wearing pressed dark trousers and a crisp black dress shirt. A slim silver neck tie hung loosely around his neck. Not a lock of hair out of place, as it swooped up into a dark, thick, gelled wave in the front. A tiny curl escaped the crowd. How someone could look so dapper and so... disheveled, was beyond her understanding. It was confusing as much as it was unsettling.

Honey waited at the foot of the stairs, unsure whether or not she should interrupt his—whatever this was.

“I stopped an armed robbery once,” Peter said to her.

The morose statement jarred her. She paused, eyes wide and blinking away confusion. She hesitated long enough to question whether he was addressing her. Wearily, he looked up at her, confirming his intent.

When she found his eyes, they were darkened with tragedy. Bleary. Red-rimmed. It was a contrast from the confident, flirty man she saw the night before. Gently, he patted the seat beside him, beckoning her to sit.

Nervously, she urged herself forward. Sitting next to him, she had the strange sensation of joining an awkwardly-tense family discussion, in front of TV dinners over an episode of Jeopardy!

Instead of a game show, Peter had been watching New York’s local morning newscast on mute. She was grateful, because having a TV on in the background had always been troublesome for her. She frequently found herself distracted, disoriented, and unable to distinguish each voice from one another. It made those awkward evening discussions much more tense—what are you, deaf? I asked you what you did in school today!

Idly, she glanced at the screen to see reporters mouthing silent words about a Nor'easter approaching. Powerball numbers scrolled across the bottom of the screen. Up next, footage of an early morning fire in the Bronx, and coverage of a press conference the Mayor gave last night.

“I know it’s probably hard to believe,” Peter began ruefully, pulling her back to the present, “‘specially seein’ me now. Like this.”

He gestured to himself and around the room at the fancy house, as if they were the same thing. The spite in his voice piqued her focus.

“You probably look at me and think I’m some rich asshole, but it wasn’t always like this,” he explained softly. Honey thought of disagreeing, but he wasn’t waiting on a reply. “My parents died when I was little. And no one ever plans to die young, y’know? So when they left my aunt and uncle were it. The only family I had.” A crease formed in her brow. She was confused as to why he was telling her this, but she listened attentively.

“We got along fine most of the time,” he continued. He sounded like he was recounting a fairy tale with a sad ending. “My aunt got sick when I was in junior high. Breast cancer. She fought it off, though. Into remission. She was always a fighter.” A bittersweet smile melted his lips. “Downright scary when she wanted to be.” The smile faded, as did the visage of whatever it was he was remembering. “Anyway, medical bills are a bitch. So this—now... Is, uh...more than I ever had growin’ up. But they tried. So hard. To make sure I had what I needed.”

He pursed his lips, lost in thought. She was unsure of what to say next, or whether or not she should say anything. Should she congratulate him on his financial success? Something like ‘I’m sure they’d be proud of you if they could see you now’ seemed in poor taste.

“I could be a real prick sometimes,” Peter recounted, dejected and regretful. She saw the faintest tremor reach his lip. He bit down to steady it. “When I was 17, I got into this big fight with my Uncle Ben. I was, um... goin’ through some stuff. Changes, I guess. I was supposed to be somewhere and I wasn’t. He got pissed. I got pissed. I end up stormin’ off. Even broke the front door on my way out.” He sighed, relieving the memory with each word. “I had to get outta there. Needed to blow off some steam, I guess. Didn’t even know where I was goin’. I stopped into a bodega, to get somethin’ to drink. And then this guy walks into the store and pulls a gun.”

His voice quivered, describing the odd twist of fate. “I see ‘em put the gun in this guy’s face, demand the money in the register. It’s like everything was moving slow. I couldn’t move. I just stood there.” Peter swallowed hard, and Honey followed the lump in his throat. “He takes off,” he continued delicately, “and then it hits me. I can’t let him get away.” Another deep breath. “So I go after him, chase him down this alley. He’s trying to get to a car waiting outside. But I catch up with him, bring him down first. The car speeds off. I look up, just a moment. I see the driver. His partner. He locks eyes with me. And he knows. I got ‘em.”

He described it carefully, with a sweet sense of victory attached. Seeing his eyes light up caused Honey’s heart to swell. It materialized as a smile on her face.

“By the time the cops get there, their job is pretty much done, right?” he laughed softly. “Bad guy’s tied up with an old clothesline. I got the money back. Handed it over. I tell ‘em everything I saw, figured that they’d handle it because it was their job.” He stopped suddenly, his voice growing thin. He swallowed hard. The pain in his eyes made it seem like he was swallowing glass.

“When Uncle Ben found out what I did— I… I’ll never forget that look on his face. He tells me I did a good thing. Calls me a hero.” Honey spotted the first signs of overwhelming emotion threatening to break him down. A light glimmered from the rim of his eyes. “That was the last conversation I had with him,” he declared, gravely.

Her brow dipped down, not expecting the sudden turn. “Went home,” he recounted. “Went to bed early.” He drew a shaky breath. “Next thing I know, bullets start flyin’. Guns goin’ off all over. Hundreds. Rapid fire. AKs.”

Eyes wide and entranced, she listened.

“I took a bullet to the thigh,” he explained, “but I don’t even remember it. All I could think about was my aunt and uncle. Gettin’ to them—”

The sentence cut off with a strangled noise. A weak, final breath before the darkness settled in. Peter looked decades older. Eyes staring blindly, haunted by horrible memories. “I found them on the floor in the kitchen. Arms wrapped around each other. Blood all over. So many bullets hit my uncle, I… I couldn’t recognize his face. He didn’t have one anymore. He’d tried to protect May, he was covering her body, but… didn’t matter. You never forget what a gun like that does to a human body.”

Honey was holding her breath unintentionally. Her skin crawled as she imagined what younger Peter must have gone through.

Taking a shaky breath, he continued. “Cops show up not long after. Didn’t even have to call ‘em.” The pools in his eyes grew deeper. “I told them what happened. They didn’t believe me. Said I couldn’t have heard that many shots fired at once. They kept trying to change my story around. That’s when I realized those bullets weren’t meant for my aunt and uncle. They were meant for me.”

He practically spat out the phrase, a bitter taste left behind. The corners of his mouth pointed downward, ire in his words. “You see, the guy I caught was a little fish. He worked for someone bigger. And the cops were in on it. They told me I didn’t hear that many shots because those could only come from an automatic weapon. Police-issued.”

A breath caught in her throat as she understood his meaning. He pressed on, self-loathing in every word, “The second I ratted out their guy, my family was as good as dead.” He swallowed hard, almost unable to finish the sentence. “That’s when I realized that everything I knew was a lie.”

She tilted her head in confusion and he looked directly at her. “The good guys versus bad guys story is all a sham,” he explained, spitefully, “because no one is ever truly good. There’re monsters everywhere. All over.” She noticed the nausea overtaking his expression, like he was describing a roach infestation, and not the state of the world. “They’re in the streets. In the law. In the banks. They even hold office. Right all the way to the very top.” She grew more unsettled as she listened to his bitter summarization of humanity. “Corruption is the game. All the players are evil. Everyone else is just collateral damage.”

The coldness of his voice stunned her, chilling her. She pulled back her gaze, confused as to where this was all coming from. It’s like he could read her mind.

“I know you think I ruined your life,” he explained. “That I destroyed everything. But bad shit happens to everyone, regardless of whether they deserve it.” He paused for a moment, and she noticed the glimmer in his eye return. He bit down on his jaw hard, in an effort to hold back. “Everyone that ever loved me is dead. Did they deserve that? Did I?” His words went over her like a dagger to the heart. She pitied him, even if she couldn’t understand where this was coming from.

“You asked me what my biggest regret was,” he explained. She recalled their earlier conversation and the question that was left unanswered. “It’s the night I tried to do the right thing, and I lost everything for it.”

Her heart twisted as he said it. She was in awe of the bitter, broken man beside her. He’d lost so many things and isolated himself so completely, it’s a wonder that he was still alive.

“That’s how I ended up on the other side of the law,” he preached from an invisible pulpit. “From this side, I have a clear view. People show me who they really are.” Reflexively, she shook her head, but stopped immediately. She didn’t have any evidence to support her argument.

“I can see now that the only way to fight fire is with fire,” he added, his voice growing stronger. More resolved. “So i'm all in with everything I got. Soon I’m gonna rain down hellfire like it’s the Fourth of July And when the smoke clears, the man who hurt your friends will be dead.” His voice echoed as he said it, as if she could hear bells in accordance, proclaiming his glory. “That's my promise to you, Honey. Whatever it takes, I’m gonna burn it all down.”

Peter’s eyes left her face and focused on the television. “I’m gonna make him pay,” he said darkly. He took the remote and turned up the volume.

The sound of the Mayor’s voice cut in, stretching the limit of her focus. She struggled to ignore it, trying to process what Peter had just said, but the volume was turned up too high. It was footage from an earlier press conference.

She watched as the stocky man stood behind a podium at City Hall with a dozen microphones fixed at his mouth. He towered against the backdrop of the American flag, his deep voice bellowing, “The crime element that poisons this beautiful city is out of control. Abhorrent acts of violence, like those perpetrated against those women in Midtown this week, will not go unpunished.”

Her eyes lit up, recognizing who he was talking about.

“I’m committing to working closely with local law enforcement, and will not stop until the animals responsible for these horrible crimes are brought to justice,” he proclaimed. “Whatever that looks like.”

Against a valiant array of uniformed police officers and banners of patriotism, it seem like more of a joke than it actually was. Another politician’s promise to be forgotten after a few weeks.

Except that it didn’t feel funny. There was nothing remotely humorous about the tone.

Perhaps it was the tension in the room sitting with Peter that gave her pause. She felt something ominous building. Something threatening. Like crawling through brush and hearing the slithering rattle of a snake.

“Whatever it takes,” the man on TV declared. “I will restore law and order to this city.”

She heard a slow exhale release from the man beside her. She glanced over at Peter to see his eyes narrowed into slits. Intense. Focused. Possessed.

Honey blinked at him, and looked back at the Mayor of New York, dread filling her.

He wasn’t…? Wait, was he talking about—

“Are you talking about him?” she asked, trepidation filing her voice. Her eyes went wide. “Are you talking about Mayor Fisk?”

Peter’s jaw twitched. He kept his eyes glued to the screen. “We don’t say that name,” he muttered with a look of pure loathing.

A chill came over her as the pieces connected. The name he had spoken the night of her kidnapping. Wilson Fisk.

“To me, he’s the Kingpin.” Peter looked her dead in the eye, aflame with righteous fervor. “And I’m gonna kill ‘em.”

Continue to Part 8

a/n hee heee heeeeeee

i'm excited for what's next. are you??? thank you for reblogging! if you want to be tagged in future chapters, you must reblog. (it's the only way I can keep up)

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