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#well hidden) deep anger and hurt i felt in that moment
itsjunear · 2 months
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"Hidden feelings"
Az x reader
Warnings: None, mention of loneliness, death and a little anger.
Note: Hello again! Thank you for taking the time to read me. I'm sorry if this is a disaster again, English is not my first language but I do what I can. Maybe I'll do a second part, I don't know yet. Again, thanks for reading even though I may not be very good at this.
I was listening to this song while writing this and I really loved it.
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"Was it a good idea to come today?"
I shrunk a little in my seat and swallowed hard. Of course, it had been a good idea; I was with my family. With mine, I reminded myself.
However, I couldn't help but feel a little... alone.
Rhys was in front of me, laughing at the story Feyre was telling him about one of the children attending painting classes in her studio, and Amren watched her amusedly with a glass of wine in her hand.
Cassian was at one end of the room, engrossed in listening to Nesta's account of how the Valkyries' training had gone while she adjusted a lock of his hair.
And Az... the shadow singer was chatting with Elain, who smiled sweetly at him, and she talked to him about the new flowers she was planting in the front part of the house, in her lovely garden.
My heart squeezed a little, and I approached the window.
I gazed at the view; the lights twinkled cheerfully across the city, quite contrary to my mood. I sighed and took a sip of wine. Mor was visiting the Winter Court, so I had no one to get drunk with, even though I was very sure that anyone would have agreed to the request. They wouldn't have asked questions; they wouldn't have asked why I desperately needed to drown myself in drunkenness; they would have simply accompanied me.
But I didn't want to interrupt; I didn't want to ruin their states of... happiness.
They deserved it after all; each one deserved whatever moments of happiness they had, and I didn't want to take that away from them.
I discreetly turned my gaze back to the shadow singer, and a deep pain invaded my heart. There was no trace of Az's shadows, who was smiling at Elain in a way that felt very genuine. And she returned the gesture.  Part of me could understand it, the sweet Elain, who could resist her? She was so delicate, so kind, and she had won everyone's heart.
She wasn't to blame for any of my feelings; she wasn't to blame for my secretly being in love with the shadow singer for over three hundred years and never having told him. That was my fault.
"Maybe you should stop looking at the window as if it were your enemy, or it will think you really hate it" Cassian joked beside me.
I turned my gaze to him and smiled slightly.
"I didn't see you at training today," said as he gently squeezed my arm as a show of affection. I shrugged, feigning indifference. "I wasn't feeling well."
Lie. I hadn't gone because it hurt to look at Az; I knew he would be there, and I... well, maybe it wasn't entirely a lie; I did feel a little unwell. Not physically, of course.
Cassian put an arm around my shoulder and looked at me with concern. "Is everything okay?"
No. Yes.
 I forced a smile on my face, convincing enough not to ruin his evening. "Yes, Cass. It's nothing," I downplayed it. "A little food will cheer me up." Cassian smiled slightly, but the concern didn't vanish from his eyes.
I had never told anyone about my crush on Az. No one. And I supposed I had hidden it enough not to raise suspicions.
"Well, I'll tell them it's time to eat, or you'll get grumpy," he said. I laughed a little as I nudged Cassian lightly. Minutes later, we were all seated in the dining room.
Rhys had sat next to me, followed by Feyre. "May I know why you've become so lazy that we now need to schedule an appointment to see you?" a voice spoke in my mind. I smiled without looking at Rhys as I served myself some salad. "I have a very busy schedule, High Lord," I replied aloud. Rhys raised an eyebrow, but he didn't press further.
Grateful that he didn't ask more questions, I looked up only to meet Az's eyes staring at me intently. I smiled slightly as I watched his shadows swirl behind him and coil around one of his round ears.
Okay, maybe I had been avoiding everyone a little, it's just that I didn't want to infect them with my bad mood. And I didn't want to hurt myself more by seeing Az with Elain.
The shadow singer continued to look at me, and I furrowed my brow. "Do I have something?" I asked. "Aside from a bad mood, nothing," Cassian teased as I kicked him under the table before hissing. Nesta chuckled softly.
The conversation flowed slowly; everyone conversed with everyone, and I simply listened. I enjoyed the naturalness with which Feyre laughed at a bad joke from Cassian and the way Rhys howled when Amren teased him afterward. I even enjoyed the dessert Elain had prepared, complimenting her on how delicious it had been. But I never looked at the shadow singer. I didn't want to torture myself anymore; I didn't want to hurt my heart anymore when I thought about how much I longed to be close to him. So, for my own sake, I resisted sneaking glances at him.
Then something Rhys said caught my attention. "... happened on the outskirts of an Illyrian camp. It ended in the death of four females." Horrified, I looked at him. "I didn't get any coherent or hole-free answers about what might have actually happened," anger emanated from him, from the rage that tinged his voice, I could assume he was quite frustrated with the situation. Feyre put her hand on his, trying to reassure him.
My friends deserved peace; they deserved these moments of peace. So, I didn't think twice before offering myself. "I'll go, Rhys."
"No," Az said quickly, his voice firm.
Cassian looked at him but didn't say anything, apparently in agreement.
Maybe it was anger that surged through my spine and made me act like an idiot. "I wasn't asking for permission," I spat out each word slowly. The shadow singer tensed as he frowned, the shadows behind him stirring. "It's very dangerous."
This time it was definitely anger boiling under my skin; I wanted to go on this mission so they could continue to be at peace, but also to get away from him. I needed a break from thinking about his eyes, from thinking that every part of him seemed beautiful to me. Even the hands he hated. "I'm old enough to make that decision," I simply said.
"I'll go with you."
I felt my whole-body tense.
"No" Az gave me a hurt look, and I regretted behaving like this, but I needed to get away. To distance him. "I can do this alone; the others need you here," I added quickly.
"Rhys," I called. He looked at me a little indecisive, debating whether to side with his brother or mine. He looked at Feyre, and I guessed they had a conversation mind to mind as they usually did when they had to make a decision.
"Alright. But you'll report in every day," Feyre concluded. I smiled gratefully, and she returned the gesture, although concern also shone in her eyes.
The room filled with tension.
"She's not a spy," Az declared with a frosty look.
"Enough, Azriel," I said irritably.
Why did he insist so much on this? I was perfectly capable of doing it. I had gone on more dangerous missions and come out unscathed. This shouldn't be so complicated, and I felt that justice needed to be served for those four dead females. Cassian cleared his throat, bringing me back to reality in my seat, and I looked at Rhys with a polite smile. "I'll leave at dawn tomorrow. You'll get a report in the evening,"
Rhys nodded, and dinner ended without any further incident. However, I felt the intense gaze of the shadow singer on me for the rest of the night, until I fell asleep on the couch while some continued to drink.
In the midst of unconsciousness, I felt warm hands lift me up and a hard chest brush against my body. Drowsily, I buried my head in the crook of the neck of the one carrying me and relaxed when a familiar pine scent enveloped me. He gently laid me down on the large bed and took off my shoes almost reverently.
I might have imagined it, but I clearly felt how before leaving, he placed a kiss on my hair and closed the door, leaving me engulfed in darkness.
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naomeii · 2 months
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Hooo boy, this one's heavy. Could I request Neuvillette and his wife getting into such a heated argument that she, in her frustration and exhaustion, asks him if he wants a divorce? Ashamed, she turns to leave, only for her husband, who's in tears, to hug and beg her not to leave him.
Love's verdict.
—Pairings: Neuvillette x Wife!Reader
Content : Domestic fluff, tiny bit of angst
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Neuvillette and (Y/N) stood in their living quarters, the air thick with tension. The usually composed Chief Justice looked visibly perturbed, and (Y/N) was fed up with the perpetual distance between them.
"(Y/N), I must ask you to understand the constraints of my position. Personal matters should not interfere with my duty," Neuvillette insisted, his tone clipped.
(Y/N) couldn't hold back anymore. "Neuvi, this isn't about your duty. It's about us. You're never here, emotionally or physically. It's like you're married to Fontaine, not me. I can't take it anymore!"
Neuvillette sighed, "My duty is to Fontaine, and Fontaine is my responsibility. You knew this when we got married."
(Y/N) was frustrated, feeling a mix of anger and hurt. "I didn't sign up to be a widow while you're still alive. I need a husband, not a distant figure hidden behind the title of Chief Justice. Do you even care about us?"
Neuvillette's expression hardened, "This is bigger than us. It's about the people, the justice I serve. You knew that sacrifice was part of the deal."
(Y/N) took a deep breath, her patience wearing thin. "I can't do this anymore, Neuvillette. I need a partner, not someone married to his job. If this is how it's always going to be, do you even want to be married?"
The room fell silent, the weight of (Y/N)'s words hanging in the air. Neuvillette's stoic facade wavered for a moment, and he looked at (Y/N) with a mix of frustration and realization.
"(Y/N), divorce is not an option. It's not something I can entertain. My duty—"
(Y/N) interrupted, tears welling up in her eyes, "Do you even love me, Neuvillette? Or am I just a placeholder in your life?"
The Chief Justice hesitated, a rare moment of vulnerability crossing his face. "(Y/N), I—"
Cutting him off, (Y/N) took a step back, her voice shaky but resolute, "Think about it, Neuvillette. If you can't find a way to be a husband as well as the Chief Justice, maybe we need to reconsider this whole thing."
As (Y/N) reached for the doorknob, the distant sound of thunder rumbled through the air, and the room dimmed as dark clouds gathered outside. She sighed, realizing the storm outside mirrored the one inside their home.
Just as she was about to leave, Neuvillette's hand shot out, grabbing her wrist. Startled, she turned to see him, tears streaking down his face, a sight so rare it sent shivers down her spine.
"(Y/N), please," Neuvillette's voice quivered with a mix of desperation and sorrow. He pulled her back gently, and in an unexpected move, wrapped his arms around her.
"Neuvi, let go," (Y/N) said, her voice softening despite the turmoil within her.
But Neuvillette clung tighter, burying his face in her shoulder. His usually composed demeanor shattered, revealing a vulnerable side that (Y/N) had rarely seen.
"Don't leave, (Y/N). I can't bear the thought of losing you," Neuvillette pleaded, his voice breaking.
(Y/N) felt a mix of emotions, torn between her frustration and the raw vulnerability in Neuvillette's embrace. The storm outside intensified, rain pelting against the windows.
"I can't keep living like this, Neuvi," she whispered, her own tears mixing with the raindrops on the windowpane.
Neuvillette tightened his grip, his body trembling. "I know I've been distant, but I can change. Just please, don't leave me. I can't face a life without you."
His words hung in the air, the sincerity cutting through the tension. (Y/N) hesitated, her heart aching at the sight of her husband in such agony. She softened, placing a hand on his back.
"Neuvi, we need to talk. We can't go on like this, but maybe there's a way we can find a compromise," she said gently.
Neuvillette pulled back, looking into her eyes with a mixture of hope and gratitude. The storm outside began to subside, as if nature itself was responding to the shifting dynamics within the room.
As they sat down to talk, the rain outside turned into a soft drizzle, a symbolic reflection of the possibility of healing and resolution.
Several weeks passed, and a noticeable change came over Neuvillette. The once stoic Chief Justice now found himself making an effort to bridge the emotional gap between him and (Y/N). He began to express his feelings more openly, his interactions reflecting a newfound warmth.
One evening, as (Y/N) was preparing dinner, Neuvillette approached her, a hint of shyness in his eyes. "I wanted to help," he said, offering a small smile.
(Y/N) raised an eyebrow in surprise but couldn't help but smile back. "Well, don't just stand there. Grab an apron. We're making this together."
Neuvillette awkwardly tied the apron, a bit unfamiliar with the domestic setting. As they worked side by side, cutting vegetables and stirring pots, he attempted to engage in casual conversation. "Have I mentioned that your cooking is one of the things I love the most?"
(Y/N) chuckled, "You've never mentioned it, but I appreciate the sentiment."
As days passed, Neuvillette's demeanor continued to shift. He became more attentive and, surprisingly, a bit shy. He'd occasionally steal glances at (Y/N) when he thought she wasn't looking, his gaze filled with a mixture of love and uncertainty.
One day, as (Y/N) was about to head out, Neuvillette caught her by the hand. "Do you really have to go? Can't you stay a bit longer?" His voice held a hint of vulnerability.
(Y/N) grinned playfully, "What happened to the Chief Justice who used to value duty above all else? Are you trying to shirk your responsibilities?"
Neuvillette blushed, looking down, "Well, maybe I've realized there are things more important than duty."
(Y/N) teased, slipping away, "Well, we can't have the Chief Justice neglecting his duties now, can we?"
But Neuvillette surprised her by swiftly lifting her off the ground, peppering her face with kisses. "(Y/N), you're the most important thing to me. I can't let you go without a proper goodbye."
Caught off guard, (Y/N) laughed, "Okay, okay! Put me down, you goof!"
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mysweetlixe · 4 months
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Secret child
Words: 5.2k
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Chan couldn't find peace in its gentle light. Instead, he lay in bed, scrolling through Instagram until a familiar face caught his attention. In the photo, you were smiling, holding a little girl with curly hair and chubby cheeks.
As Chan gazed at the little girl, he noticed her dark hair and shaped eyes, just like Y/N. But as she smiled up at him with a mischievous glint in her eye, he saw his own playfulness reflected back at him.Chan's heart began to race as he realized that this little girl was his daughter.
His mind raced with a mix of emotions - fear, shock, joy. He couldn't believe that Y/N had kept her existence from him all this time and yet here she was, smiling up at him from the photo.
With trembling fingers, Chan pulled out his phone and searched through his contacts until he found Y/N's name. His heart was beating so fast, he almost dropped the phone as he pressed the call button - something he never thought he would do again after their messy breakup.When you answered, Chan could hear the surprise in your voice.
After a few moments of awkward silence , Chan finally found the courage to speak. "Y/N, I saw the photo of our daughter. I can't believe you never told me about her." His voice was shaky and filled with emotion.
There was a long pause on the other end of the line before Y/N finally spoke. "Chan, I didn't want to burden you with the responsibility of being a father. You have your own career and life to focus on."
Chan felt a pang of hurt at Y/N's words. "You didn't even give me a choice in the matter. I could have been there for you and our daughter."
Y/N's voice softened as she spoke. "I know, and I'm sorry for not telling you sooner. But things were complicated back then, and I was scared. Scared of what you would say, scared of how you would react. But I never wanted to keep her from you. She deserves to have a relationship with her father."
Chan let out a deep sigh, his mind racing with a million thoughts and emotions. He couldn't believe he had a daughter, and the fact that Y/N had kept her hidden from him made him feel a mix of anger and hurt.
But at the same time, he couldn't help but feel a sense of joy and excitement at the prospect of being a father.
"I want to meet her," Chan said finally, his voice firm. "I want to be a part of her life."
There was a moment of silence before Y/N spoke again. "I want that too, Chan. I want you to be a part of her life.But you have to understand that it won't be easy. She's only three years old and she's been without a father figure for her entire life. It's going to take time for her to adjust to having you around."
Chan nodded, even though he knew Y/N couldn't see him. "I understand. I just want to be there for her, to be the father that I should have been all along."
Y/N's voice was soft and gentle as she spoke. "I know you will be, Chan. And I'm not going to lie - it won't be easy. But it's worth it, for her. And for us."
Chan felt a sense of relief wash over him. He had been terrified that Y/N wouldn't want him in their daughter's life, but now that she had agreed, he felt a weight lifted off his shoulders.
"I'll come over tomorrow," Chan said finally, his voice filled with determination. "I want to meet her, and I want to start making up for lost time."
Y/N's voice was filled with emotion as she replied. "Thank you, Chan. That means everything to me."
Minho sat outside at a small bistro, sipping his espresso and staring off into the distance. He couldn't help but think about Y/N, the girl he had lost five years ago. They had shared an unforgettable night together, but she disappeared from his life afterwards without a word.
Suddenly, a child yanked on Minho's sleeve, causing him to startle out of his thoughts. The little boy looked up at him with big brown eyes and, The young boy's voice trembled as he spoke, tears welling in his eyes.
"I'm lost, can you help me find my mom?" Minho's heart softened at the sight of the scared child, and he knelt down to be eye level with him. "Of course, let's find your mom," he said gently, taking the boy's tiny hand in his own and leading him through the crowded streets.
As they walked, Minho couldn't help but feel a sense of responsibility for the child. He knew that he had to help him find his mother.
After a few minutes of wandering, they finally came across a woman who was frantically searching for her son. As Minho approached her with the little boy in tow, she let out a sigh of relief and ran to embrace her child.
Minho looked around for the boy's mother, but he couldn't find her anywhere. So he bent down and asked the little boy, "What's your mom's name?"
The boy replied, "My mom's name is Y/N." Minho felt his heart skip a beat as he stared at the child in shock.
The thought of Y/N having a child was overwhelming for Minho. He had always wondered what had happened to her after that night they spent together. He couldn't believe that she had kept this a secret from him.
But as he looked at the little boy, he saw Y/N's eyes staring back at him, and he felt a sense of connection to the child that he couldn't explain.
He looked into her eyes and felt a wave of sadness wash over him as he realized that she had been carrying this secret all these years. But before he could say anything else, Y/N hugged him tightly and burst into tears.
"Thank you for bringing my son back to me," she sobbed. "You have no idea how much this means to me."
Minho's heart ached as he watched Y/N hug the little boy tightly and whisper words of love into his ear. As he looked at them together, it suddenly became clear to him that the child was his too.
He couldn't believe that he had a son, and the fact that Y/N had hidden him from him made him feel a mix of anger and hurt. But at the same time, he couldn't help but feel a sense of joy and excitement at the prospect of being a father.
"Y/N, is he...is he mine?" Minho asked hesitantly, his voice barely above a whisper.
Y/N looked up at Minho, her eyes filled with tears. "Yes, he's yours," she said softly. "I'm sorry for not telling you sooner. I was scared, I didn't know how you would react."
Minho felt a knot form in his stomach as he thought about the years he had missed with his son. "I don't know what to say," he said finally, his voice thick with emotion.Y/N looked at him, her eyes filled with understanding.
"I know it's a lot to take in. But he's a wonderful little boy, and he deserves to have a father in his life. I'm not asking you to make up for the past, but I want you to be a part of his life now."
Minho nodded, feeling a sense of determination wash over him. "I want to be there for him, Y/N. I want to make up for lost time and be the father he deserves."
Y/N smiled through her tears, and Minho felt a sense of relief wash over him. He had been terrified that Y/N wouldn't want him in their son's life, but now that she had agreed, he felt a weight lifted off his shoulders.
"I'm so sorry for not telling you sooner," Y/N said again, her voice trembling. "I just didn't know how to tell you, or how you would react."
Minho took her hand, feeling a sense of tenderness as he looked at her. "It's okay, Y/N. We'll figure this out together. And I promise to be there for our son and for you, always."
Changbin stepped into the party, laughter and music filled his ears. His close friend waved him over, but his eyes were drawn to Y/N standing with her boyfriend and a little girl in her arms.
She looked happy and content, completely unaware of Changbin's presence as he stood frozen in shock. He didn't expect to see her there, let alone with a child.
As the night progressed, Changbin couldn't take his eyes off of Y/N and the little girl. He felt a strange sense of sadness as he watched them together, and he was filled with questions as to who the child belonged to.
Finally, at the end of the night, Changbin mustered up enough courage to ask his friend about Y/N's daughter.
To his surprise, he found out that the child wasn’t her boyfriend's and Y/N never told anyone who the real father was Changbin's heart raced as he contemplated the possibility that he might be the father.
He wanted to approach Y/N and ask her directly, but he hesitated. He was scared of how she would react if it turned out he was the father, or even worse, what if he wasn't?
Finally, when all the guests had left for the night, Changbin decided to take a chance and confront Y/N about her daughter. His heart raced as he stepped towards her and pulled her aside.
"Y/N," he said nervously."I couldn't help but notice your daughter earlier. She's beautiful." Y/N looked at him with surprise, not expecting Changbin to bring up her daughter.
"Thank you," she said, smiling at him. "She's my everything."Changbin took a deep breath, feeling his heart pounding in his chest. "Y/N, is it possible that she's mine?" he asked hesitantly.
Y/N's face fell as she looked at Changbin. "I can't believe you're asking me that now," she said softly."I'm sorry," Changbin said quickly. "I just needed to know.
I've been thinking about it all night."Y/N let out a sigh and looked down at the little girl in her arms. "Yes, she's yours," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.
Changbin's heart skipped a beat as he heard those words. He couldn't believe it. He had a daughter."I'm so sorry," Y/N said, her voice trembling. "I wanted to tell you, I just didn't know how."
Changbin stepped closer and put his arm around her shoulders. "It's okay," he said softly. "We'll figure this out together." Y/N looked up at Changbin, her eyes filled with tears. "Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you for understanding."
Changbin smiled at her, feeling a sense of relief wash over him.
He had been terrified of how Y/N would react, but now that she had confirmed that he was the father, he felt a sense of joy and excitement at the prospect of being a parent.
"I want to be in her life, Y/N," Changbin said, his voice filled with determination. "I want to be the father she deserves."Y/N nodded, a small smile on her face. "I want that too," she said softly.
"I don't want her growing up without her father in her life. "Changbin took the little girl from Y/N's arms and looked down at her, feeling a sense of wonder as he stared into her eyes.
She looked so much like him, and he couldn't believe he had missed the first few years of her life. But now that he knew, he was determined to make up for lost time and be the best father he could be.
"We have a lot to figure out," Y/N said, her voice breaking the silence. Changbin nodded, still staring down at his daughter. "But we'll figure it out together."
As the three of them stood there, Changbin felt a newfound sense of purpose. He had a daughter, and he was going to do everything in his power to make sure she had the best life possible.
And he knew that he couldn't do it alone. But he was glad that Y/N was willing to work with him to make it happen. Together, they would figure everything out and give their daughter the love and support she needed.
Hyunjin sat cross-legged on a worn bench, sketchbook balanced on his lap and pencil flying across the page. He was so absorbed in capturing the curves of the trees and the play of light on the grass that he didn't notice the boy until he stood over him, curious about what he was drawing.The boy, dressed in a bright yellow t-shirt and jeans, smiled at Hyunjin.
"That looks really cool," he said with a grin. Hyunjin looked up from his sketchbook and smiled back. "Thanks," he replied, sliding the book into his backpack.The boy sat down next to him on the bench, their legs almost touching.
Hyunjin couldn't help but stare at him as he talked excitedly about his day at school and the new friends he had made. There was something about the boy's energy that drew Hyunjin in and he felt a strange connection to him.
As the boy talked, Hyunjin noticed something out of the corner of his eye and he gasped. It was Y/N, standing just a few feet away “ come on buddy it’s time to leave," she said gently, holding out her hand to the boy.
The boy looked up at her with a pout. "But mom, I wanna stay and talk to him," he said, pointing at Hyunjin.
Y/N smiled and looked over at Hyunjin, her eyes widening in recognition. "Hyunjin?" she said softly, as if she couldn't believe it was him.
Hyunjin stared back at Y/N for a moment before realization hit him like a ton of bricks. This was Y/N's son - his son - and she had kept him hidden from him all these years.
He was speechless as he looked between Y/N and the boy, not knowing what to say or do but feeling an overwhelming sense of joy that he finally knew the truth about his child.Y/N took a step closer, the boy's hand still in hers. "Hyunjin, I-" she began, but her voice caught in her throat.
She didn't know how to explain why she had kept their son hidden from him all these years. She had been so scared of what he would say or do, but now that he was here, looking at her with those intense eyes, she knew she had to tell him the truth.
"I'm sorry," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't know how to tell you about him."
Hyunjin stood up from the bench, his eyes never leaving Y/N's. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, his voice low.
Y/N took a deep breath and looked down at the boy. "I was scared," she said, her voice shaking. "I was afraid that you would reject him or hate me for keeping him.I didn't want to take that risk."
She looked back up at Hyunjin, her eyes full of tears. "But I should have told you," she said softly. "He's your son too."
Hyunjin nodded, still staring down at his daughter. He slowly moved forward and enveloped Y/N and their son in a hug, feeling the warmth of their embrace for the first time in years.
He was so filled with emotion he couldn't speak, but when he finally pulled back, there was a smile on his face."I'm just happy to finally know him," Hyunjin said, looking at his son with wonder.
Y/N smiled back, her heart bursting with joy. She knew that from now on, their son would have both of his parents in his life and she couldn't be happier. Hyunjin reached out and brushed a strand of hair away from Y/N's face, the gesture so familiar it almost felt like they were back where they started.
"We'll make up for all the lost time," Hyunjin said softly, his eyes shining with love.
Y/N smiled and leaned into his embrace, feeling finally at peace after all these years. What started as a simple sketching session had now become something much more meaningful - the beginning of an unexpected family reunion.
Jisung sat in his studio, focused intently on the soundboard as he tinkered with a new track. It had been years since he had heard from Y/N, and memories flooded back to him as his phone began to ring.
He hesitated before answering, unsure of what to expect. As soon as he picked up, he could hear the glassy quality in her voice - she was clearly intoxicated. "Jisung," Y/N slurred into the receiver, her words slightly garbled and unsteady.
“I need to tell you something, remember two years ago when we got wasted at that party.Jisung's heart skipped a beat as he remembered that night.
It was a blur of alcohol and bodies moving together, but he had vivid memories of Y/N's lips on his and the way she had whispered his name. He had never been able to forget that night, no matter how hard he tried.
"Yeah, I remember," Jisung said, his voice low.
"Well, you ended up getting me pregnant and now we have a daughter," Jisung couldn't decipher if she was being serious or just drunk. “ Where are you I’m coming to get you," he said urgently, his mind racing with the news. He had a daughter and he had no idea.
Y/N gave him the address of the bar she was at, and Jisung quickly made his way there. When he arrived, he found Y/N slumped over at the bar. He helped her up and led her out to his car, making sure she was safely buckled in before driving her home.
As they sat in her living room, Y/N explained everything to him. She had been too scared to tell him about the pregnancy, and had decided to raise their daughter on her own.
She had never wanted him to feel trapped or obligated to be a father, but now that she was struggling to raise their child alone, she had no choice but to reach out to him.
Jisung listened to her story, his heart heavy with guilt for not being there for their daughter. He had always wanted to be a father, but never had the chance. And now he had a daughter that he never knew existed.
"I want to meet her," Jisung said firmly, his eyes meeting Y/N's. "I want to be a part of her life."
Y/N's face lit up with relief and joy. “ She’s at my mother’s house.” Jisung wanted to drive to her house but he couldn’t leave you in your drunken state , so he decided to spend the night at Y/N's house. As they sat on the couch, Jisung couldn't help but feel grateful for the opportunity to finally meet his daughter.
He thought about all the things he had missed out on - her first steps, her first words, her first birthday - and felt a pang of sadness. But he was determined to make up for lost time and be the best father he could be.
Felix's heart raced as he approached Y/N, his long-distance friend who he hasn’t seen in person in a couple of months . They had always shared a special connection, but things took a turn when they started developing feelings for each other.
Suddenly, their once simple friendship became complicated with romantic tension.But, Felix refused to let that ruin their friendship and so he decided to pay her a visit.
As soon as he entered her house, Felix felt a strange energy in the air. He couldn't help but feel something was off - until Y/N slowly stepped out from behind the corner.
He was taken aback by the sight of her, cradling an infant in her arms. Her eyes widened when she saw him and for a moment, everything around them seemed to pause. "Felix," Y/N said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't expect you to be here."
Felix looked at her, the shock evident on his face. He had no idea she had a child, let alone one so young. "Who is this?" he asked, gesturing to the baby in her arms.
Y/N's eyes flickered down to the child before she spoke. "This is my son," she said softly, her voice trailing off. "I had him a few months ago."
Felix felt like his world had turned upside down. He had no idea Y/N was even in a relationship, let alone had a child. He took a step closer to her, wanting to know more.
"Who's the father?" he asked, his heart tight in his chest.
Y/N hesitated for a moment before she spoke. "His father is you," she said, her voice trembling slightly.
“What since when Felix stared at her in disbelief, unable to process what he was hearing.?" Felix exclaimed, his mind racing with confusion. "How is that even possible? I don't remember-"
"We were both drunk and it just happened," Y/N explained, her voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't know how to tell you, and I didn't want to burden you with the news." Felix looked at Y/N “
How is this a burden ?" he asked, his voice filled with emotion. "He's my son too."
Y/N's eyes filled with tears as she looked at Felix. "I know, I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. "I wanted to tell you, but I was scared of how it would effect your career and your life."
Felix shook his head, taking a step closer to Y/N and the baby. "I don't care about my career or my life right now," he said firmly. "I care about my son and making things right between us."
Y/N looked up at him, her eyes shining with relief. "Thank you," she whispered, handing the baby over to Felix.
As he held his son in his arms for the first time, Felix felt a rush of emotions. He couldn't believe he had a child, but he knew he would do everything in his power to be a good father.
"I want to be a part of his life," Felix said, his eyes meeting Y/N's. "I want to be there for him and for you."
Y/N smiled at him, her heart filled with hope. "I want that too," she said softly. "I want us to be a family." And in that moment, Felix knew that everything was going to be okay. He knew that he had a long road ahead of him, but he was willing to do whatever it took to make things work.
Seungmin knew he was too young to be a father but that didn’t mean he didn’t want kids in the feature . He had always dreamed of having a family, of being a dad and watching his children grow up.
But those dreams had always been in the distant future, something that he would work towards when he was older and more established in his career.
So when he received a call from Y/N, his ex-girlfriend, telling him that there’s was something she need to tell him. So he met Y/N at her apartment , his heart pounding with anticipation. As soon as he walked in, he could see the worry etched on her face.
Seungmin's gentle voice cut through the tense silence. "What's happening?" he asked, his words barely above a whisper. Suddenly, the piercing wail of a baby filled the air.
Seungmin's eyes widened in surprise and concern. "I'm sorry," Y/N apologized, quickly excusing herself to attend to the crying infant.
The sound of her footsteps grew faint as she retreated into another room. Seungmin sat alone, his mind racing with questions. Was this Y/N's baby? Did he have a secret child with her?
He didn't know how long he had been lost in thought when suddenly the door opened and Y/N returned with the baby in her arms.
His heart stopped as he took in the sight before him, realizing that it was true. “ Seungmin this is my daughter ," Y/N said softly, holding out the infant for him to see.
Seungmin's eyes widened as he took in the delicate features of the newborn, feeling a surge of emotions he couldn't quite name. "I had her a few months ago," Y/N continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "And she's yours."
Seungmin felt like his world had turned upside down. He had no idea that Y/N was pregnant, let alone that he was the father. "How is this possible?" he asked, his voice shaking with disbelief.
Y/N looked at him, her eyes filled with tears. "We were together when I got pregnant," she said softly. Seungmin's mind raced as he tried to remember the timeline of their relationship feeling guilty for not realizing sooner.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered, reaching out to stroke the baby's soft cheek. "I had no idea."
Y/N's eyes met his, filled with pain and regret. "I didn't know how to tell you," she said softly."But now that you know, what are you going to do?"
Seungmin took a deep breath, feeling the weight of responsibility settling heavily on his shoulders.
He knew that being a father was not something to be taken lightly. "I want to be in her life," he said firmly, his eyes never leaving the baby's face. "I want to be a good father to her."
Y/N's eyes filled with tears of relief. "Thank you," she whispered, handing the baby over to Seungmin. As he held his daughter in his arms for the first time, Seungmin felt a surge of love and protectiveness. He knew that he had a lot to learn, but he was determined to do whatever it takes to make things work.
Seungmin looked up at Y/N, his heart filled with determination. "I want to make things right between us too," he said softly. "I don't want to be just a father to our daughter, I want to be there for you too."
Y/N's eyes widened in surprise and hope. "You do?" she asked, her voice laced with disbelief.
Seungmin nodded, his eyes meeting hers. "I know we had our differences in the past, but I want to put that behind us and work towards a better future for our daughter," he said firmly.
Y/N's eyes filled with tears once again, but this time they were tears of happiness. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. "I've always wanted us to be a family, but I didn't know how to make that happen."
Seungmin smiled at her, his heart overflowing with love. "We'll figure it out together," he said, his voice gentle and reassuring. "I want to be there for you, to support you and to be the partner you deserve."
Y/N's heart swelled with love and gratitude. She had never imagined that Seungmin would be so understanding and willing to work things out between them. She reached out and took his hand, squeezing it tightly. "Thank you," she said again, unable to express how much his words meant to her.
Seungmin leaned in and kissed her gently on the forehead, his lips lingering for a moment. "I'll do whatever it takes to make things right between us," he promised.
Jeongin was shocked to learn from friends that Y/N had a son and didn’t tell him. He had known her for years before she moved away from him and he had always thought they had a special connection.
But now he felt betrayed that she had kept such a big secret from him. He sat alone in his apartment, his mind racing with questions. Why didn't she tell him?
Did she not trust him enough? Did he not mean enough to her to be included in such an important part of her life?
Jeongin's thoughts were interrupted when his phone rang. It was Y/N. He hesitated for a moment before answering, unsure of what to say.
“Hey," he said, trying to keep his voice steady.
"Hi," Y/N said softly. "I know this is a lot to take in, but I wanted to talk to you."
Jeongin took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. "Okay," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you about my son," Y/N said, her voice filled with regret. “ hey it’s fine,” Jeongin said, his voice strained. “I just don’t understand why you didn’t tell me.”
Y/N sighed heavily. “ Because that’s not the only secret about him- he’s your son too, Jeongin. I found out I was pregnant shortly after we broke up and I decided to keep it from you because I knew it would complicate things.”
Jeongin was speechless, his mind struggling to process Y/N's words. He felt a range of emotions - surprise, shock, confusion - but most of all, he felt a deep love for the son he never knew he had. Tears filled his eyes as he realized that their family was bigger than either of them had ever imagined.
"I want us to be a family," Y/N said softly. "If you're willing to try."
Jeongin nodded slowly, his heart filled with hope and love. “I’m willing to do whatever it takes,” he said firmly. “To be there for our son and for you.” Y/N smiled, her eyes full of tears. "Thank you," she whispered softly. "That means everything to me."
Jeongin could hear her cry over the phone and his heart ached to comfort her. "I'm here for you," he said, his voice filled with tenderness. "We'll figure it out together."
Y/N's sobs quieted, and she took a deep breath. "I have to go," she said softly. "But please, let's talk more about this soon. I want to make things right between us, Jeongin."
Jeongin nodded, his heart filled with determination. "I want that too," he said firmly. "I'll call you tomorrow."Y/N's voice was barely above a whisper as she spoke her final words. "Thank you, Jeongin. I love you."
Jeongin felt his heart skip a beat at her words, but he knew that they had a lot of work to do before they could truly be a family. "I love you too," he said softly, before hanging up the phone.
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nyashykyunnie · 1 month
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˗ˏˋ Sung Jinwoo x Terminally ill Reader ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡
ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ
‼️[ TW: Hurt, No comfort, Character Death, Terminal Illness]‼️
‧₊˚ ☁️⋅ Part 1 || Part Two ♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.
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╰┈➤ ❝ [ I Have To Breath, But Every Inhale Feels More Like a Punishment From The Gods ] ¡! ❞
White walls were all you have ever known for all your life.
Christmas? Inside White Walls.
Your Birthdays? Inside White Walls.
Your first kiss? Inside White Walls.
You hated the sight of it all, you hated it so much that the smell of this room was starting to have an aroma of death.
And yet, Jinwoo never complained.
He visits everyday without a fail, always on time, maybe a little late here and there because he was a hunter– But he is always there, sliding open the hospital door with a beaming smile and lips ready to give you a caress.
Jinwoo always had food with him, even when he comes into the hospital room with a battered look.
Clothes stained with grime and dirt, a shoe with a hole, a face disheveled with some dried blood he failed to wash up earlier from rushing— And hair so messy you swear there must be a nest inside those soft and delicate jet black strands of his.
You would scold him with anger and yet he just laughs it off, muttering "I'm sorry" over and over while he gently takes your hand, rubbing his thumb over the soft and thin hand of yours.
But you knew he wasn't listening to you, and for that, you could only sigh.
Jinwoo always appeared calm and happy.
...Because if he shows you the turmoils and anxiety he has hidden in him, what would happen to you?
You're already dying.
Your skin is paler than last week, your body is growing thinner everyday, your voice is growing quieter and more ragged, your breathing is slower and heavy, the tubes strewn around you were increasing in number as if it's turning into a complete amalgamation of horror—
Jinwoo is losing you.
He knew that so well, the doctor had already told him weeks ago that you don't have much time.
So he desperately tries his outmost best to spend as much time with you, even if he comes in bloody from his raids— He needs to see you everyday.
Even when he went through the double dungeon, he went straight to your side the moment he came in, and to ligthen your mood he would joke around and say you two can now be bed buddies since you're both sick.
Jinwoo will strive to make you smile, even if it hurts him inside he supresses that anguish deep down inside because he knows you must be in much more pain.
He will never know what it's like to always receive these different medications that are so disgustingly unpleasant to the mouth, he will never know how much the constant injections would hurt, he will never know how tiresome it is to constantly be monitored, he will never know how much sadness you go through when he isnt there.
Jinwoo needs to be happy in front of you.
He just got back from the system's first dungeon, he was going to tell you all about how he did because he knew you love listening about his raids even though they are scary.
But as he approaches the familiar number of you hospital room— Nurses and doctors were running in and out in rapid succession.
He could hear the doctor barking out orders, counting down and screaming Clear.
1....
2....
3....
"We're sorry Mr Sung." The same doctor comes out, the heartbreak in his eye evident as the hunter flung himself inside the room.
There was a ringing inside Jinwoo's ear, it was so high pitched and painful.
But really, it wasn't a ring.
It was Jinwoo screaming at the top of his lungs.
A scream so full of pain and anguish that everyone who hears his scream felt shudders— But even that, even that could never compare to what Jinwoo feels right now.
His heart felt like it was about to explode, his organs felt like they were twisting and contorting inside his body, his muscles felt so stiff that he swears he must have been made out of stone, the lock in his throat wouldn't go away no matter how much he cried out.
Tears would stream down his face.
And the medical staff could do nothing more than to close the door to let Jinwoo have his last moments.
Jinwoo would kiss his beloved's hand that was so cold, he would beg and beg for them to wake up— To call out his name, to scold him, to smack his head because he is such a reckless idiot.
He implores, "Open your eyes... Open them, I'm right here. Woowoo is here... Please, please come back."
But no answer would reach his ears, not even the faintest of breaths would reach his ears.
He tried to listen to your heartbeat, but there was nothing there for him to listen to.
Hours, he spent hours inside that room until he finally came out to call a medical staff.
Jinwoo's voice was horse, almost like he even lost it.
His eyes were puffy and his expression drained of color
Everyone though his expression couldn't worsen any further.
But in your funeral, he was empty, complete empty.
Mindless as he watches your coffin lower, numb as the dirt piling up on the elegant Mahogany wood.
He stood there, unmoving as the last dirt was thrown and fixed.
Jinwoo stayed there even in the rain.
Just staring.
It was as if he's waiting for a hand to emerge from the dirt like those stupid movies he used to watch with you.
But no.
No hand would ever emerge.
The sweet sound of your voice calling out his name, he could never hear it again directly.
Since them, Jinwoo would abuse his body through the system.
Ceaselessly leveling up in godspeed, pushing himself past his limits as a form of punishment.
It was his way of showing how much he hated himself.
He always though of that day, had he come in a little earlier, had he beaten that godforsaken snake a little more earlier— Then perhaps he could have heard your voice one last time, perhaps he could have said goodbye more properly.
Over and over and over and over and over.
He would rise, he would level up, the sound of the system dings becoming sickeningly disgusting the more time passed by.
And soon, he was titled as the world's strongest hunter.
... He was also the most lifeless of them all.
Grey eyes always empty, it was as if he was merely a shell of a person.
Jinwoo never really reacts to anything other than his familr, the few times he has shown emotion— Was when he was furious.
And everytime that happens, the world would tremble in absolute horror.
Other than that? He just did his job.
People would call him all sorts of things, insult him but not once has he ever batted an eye at them.
When he isn't in the gates, taking care of Ahjin guild, or leveling up— He would often go by your grave.
He'd buy all sorts of flowers, from your favourites to whatever he thinks looks absolutely pretty and you would certainly have loved. Jinwoo would lean behind the stone wall, his head tilted back as he tells you about his day. How it's been, how silly Jin-ah has been, how ridiculous Jinho was last night whole drunk, and what he's been up to.
He'd talk on and on, even if he knew there wouldn't be a reply.
But somehow, the breeze blowing felt like it was the stand-in for your voice, the scent of leaves seemed to carry your scent— Everything around him was reminding him of you.
Or maybe it was just his senses is making him delusional because desperately needed you by him.
After all, he was slowly going more and more mad.
It's been so hard, yesterday, he was a struggling hunter who has lost the love of his life.
Today, he is the world's champion.
He was to be the war hero thrown to save the world.
"I don't know if I can do it" Jinwoo weakly mumbles as he continues to lean on your grave as if it were your arms comforting him. "I've killed a few monarchs, Antares only remains yet somehow... I still feel anxious. I could really... Really use some of your words, love. But I know that's impossible."
It wasn't really.
He could technically reanimate your being, but he never did. as much as it kills him, he wanted you to rest, he never wanted to use his wicked power just to see you.
Not having you by his side is his punishment for not coming any sooner to stay by your side that dreadful day.
"Well... If I don't make it, it's fine." Jinwoo mumbles, looking up at the starless night sky. "I'll see you again soon, wherever it may be, no matter how many lifetimes it take, no matter how far I go, I'll come back and see you again. So wait just a little longer, my love. Woowoo is coming home"
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corpsekiller · 1 year
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𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 (𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐟𝐲) — 𝐭.𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐛𝐲
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𝖯𝖠𝖨𝖱𝖨𝖭𝖦. thomas shelby x fem!reader (maid!reader)
𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖭𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖲. angst, jealousy, seemingly unrequited love that isn’t actually unrequited, mutual pining
𝖲𝖸𝖭𝖮𝖯𝖲𝖨𝖲. thomas thought he knew desire before he met you, but you proved him wrong. since the day you started working for him as a maid, he has been watching you from afar, trying to contain his hunger for you and it was only a matter of time until he finally breaks.
𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖧𝖮𝖱'𝖲 𝖭𝖮𝖳𝖤. this is the second part to wanting you (is all i’ve ever known). i got many comments asking for another part and since i already planned to turn this into a small series with three parts, i felt more motivated to continue writing this, so thank you for your reblogs and sweet comments on the first part! and @luv-gin thank you for your support, you're the best <33
𝖫𝖤𝖭𝖦𝖳𝖧. 1.696 words
MASTERLIST     PART 1
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Despite knowing better, Tommy finds himself thinking of you.
Often, he wonders what you’re doing when you aren’t serving him drinks or cleaning his study, sweeping over the cracked spines of his books to clear away the dust that has settled on the pages over the years due to the lack of use and polishing the deep mahogany of his desk until his reflection stares back at him, punishing him with a deadly stare for the secrets he keeps buried in the back of his head. Still, his mirror knows. No matter how many cigarettes he smokes, how many glasses of whiskey he downs, he finds his thoughts inevitably returning to you.
Memories of you flood his mind at times when he’s trying to focus on business, the scent of your perfume and the warmth of your hand grazing his, the spark of desire glinting in your eyes whenever his gaze met yours, wondering, hoping, praying that one day, he’d reciprocate your feelings. For the longest time, he had tried to ignore his longing for you because he didn’t want to ruin you — you’re young and sweet, so gentle that his heart threatens to burst at the seams whenever you offer him a timid smile and brush a loose strand of hair behind your ear and he’s—
Well, he carries the scars of death on his body as a constant reminder of what he truly is. A monster, no matter how beloved.
But even when you aren’t in the room, your presence still seems to linger around him, and sometimes he feels as if he could stretch his scarred hands out into the empty space and find you reaching back for him. It’s a blessing and a curse at the same time, to yearn for someone he can’t have and it has begun to form into something akin to anger, growing like a tumor in his chest and draining him of all sanity.
And see, a part of him is tempted to get rid of it in the most violent way possible, find a valve and let the rage seep out of his body as if it were blood spilling from an open wound before he finally loses his fuckin’ mind. Because it hurts more than it should, to love someone as he loves you, it pulls his skin too tight around his joints and makes his bones feel more like explosives hidden beneath his flesh, ready to blow at any given moment and-
Ah, but only in your absence.
That’s the other side speaking, the side he didn’t know still existed — his mother’s son, the boy he once was before he went to France and faced the horrors of war, who cared about others in a way that always left him broken, Perhaps, that boy died back then, down in the tunnels but his ghost has followed him back and haunts him in moments of utter silence. Tommy usually ignores his cries and whimpers, but sometimes, he listens. Don’t let her see you, he whispers, frail hands tugging on the sleeve of his jacket, don’t let her see your anger.
Tommy makes a silent promise to the boy who has fallen hopelessly in love with you.
He breaks it soon after.
Of course, it’s not your fault. No, you’re as sweet as the sugar cubes he fed his horse this morning, dutifully serving his brothers their drinks and fulfilling every request he directs at you without an ounce of hesitation, yet he somehow finds you to be a nuisance on this evening.
Perhaps it’s your voice, he thinks, soft and smooth as you mumble ‘As you wish, Mr. Shelby’ and lean over his broad shoulder to pour him his second drink and suddenly, he’s dangerously aware of the heat your body radiates, the close proximity between him and you. Maybe it’s your hand ghosting over the length of his arm as you set another plate loaded with delicious food on the dinner table that keeps distracting him, that keeps setting his skin on fire.
Even your dress seems to be shorter today and puts your legs on full display when you walk, skirts swishing around your plush thighs with every step you take. The palms of his hands itch with the urge to touch you and his eyes roam endlessly over your figure, can’t seem to let you out of sight for even a moment. Fuck, he curses himself for the desire that burns through his veins like the alcohol he tastes on the back of his throat and devours him whole.
Still, he perseveres.
Until his brothers begin to flirt with you. Of course, Tommy knew they would take a liking in you and, just as he expected, you had them wrapped around your finger in a blink of an eye - it only took a sweet smile and a curtsy, the very same smile that follows him into his dreams every night.
But even though he’s clever enough to predict what’s going to happen in any situation he finds himself in (roughly, he’s been wrong many times) and cunning enough to beat his enemies at their own games (barely, he’s danced with death too often to count), he didn’t expect you to fall for any of their advances.
They’re idiotic brutes, especially when it comes to girls they’re trying to fuck and Thomas never cared much for their half-assed attempts at getting into a woman’s knickers. Still, as he watches you from across the room, he feels his anger resurfacing — a black hound baring his teeth and scratching at the inside of his chest like he just caught the coppery scent of fresh blood.
And it’s not your fault, he tells himself bitterly, but the lighthearted laughter escaping you at one of John’s jokes and the blush covering your cheeks after every compliment he tells you makes it harder to contain this uncontrollable violence he holds against no one but himself. Even the little twirl you do so innocently when Arthur whistles unashamedly seems to drive him to the very edge of his sanity and the whispers of the boy begging him to hide it, to restrain it seems to drown out in the sound of his blind rage tearing through the chains of his self-control.
No, you’re supposed to smile only at him and no one else in this god-forsaken room, even if it’s his own family occupying each seat at the table.
In his peripheral vision he can see you walk past Finn, can see Linda tensing up beside Arthur, can smell her disgust as she throws you a dirty look and Tommy opens his mouth to tell her to fuck off, but thinks better of it when his youngest brother suddenly wraps his hand around your wrist. With a grin, he pulls you closer and brushes a loose curl behind your ear, then mutters something that causes you to giggle quietly before you lean down to plant a kiss on his freckled cheek.
And despite all his efforts, Tommy feels something inside him snap.
His cutlery clatters against his plate. It’s loud enough to gather the attention of everyone present — his brothers whip around and you gasp quietly, immediately straightening your back to loom at him seated at the head of the dining table.
His gaze is unwavering, his expression cold and unreadable to his entire family except for Polly who seems to be quite entertained by his theatrics, though so far she hasn’t spoken up to call him out. Perhaps she’s curious about his intentions, but judging by the way her eyes wander to you standing there on the other side like a deer caught in headlights he figures she already knows more than she lets on.
He couldn’t care less. When you finally dare to meet his eyes, after a moment of palpable tension, he’s certain to catch a flicker of bold amusement in your gaze before you rush to his side.
Oh, this is going to be interesting.
Blindly, he reaches out for you and in an instant, his palm finds the curve of your spine. His fingers trace along your back and dig into the fabric of your dress, pulling you an inch closer and keeping you there like a helpless kitten grasped by the neck.
It’s enough to make you curse under your breath, a string of foul words he never heard of you before and Tommy finds that he can sense the stuttering beat of your heart behind your shoulder blades — it gives him a strange satisfaction, the knowledge that he has so much power over you and although he never dared to taste it to the fullest on the tip of his tongue, he silently thanks his brothers for giving him the final push to claim what should have belonged to him since the beginning.
“I believe I left my cigarettes in my study. Will you be a good girl and get them for me, love?” It’s not a casual question. No, the syllables are drenched with a sort of sharpness only his enemies get to hear right before he puts the six feet under the cold earth, a subtle threat wrapped in false courtesy that causes you to tremble with fear and anticipation in his tight grasp.
“Go on.” When he finally nudges you towards the door and watches you sway out of the room, tender hands fiddling with the hem of your skirt and nearly stumbling over your feet, he can’t help but chuckle under his breath.
There’s a hunger inside him, a ravenous craving to take what is his, to make you squirm beneath his body and hear you cry out for mercy. His anger has taken over in a way he never experienced before, but he can feel it scorching hot in the pit of his stomach, can feel it settle at his feet in the form of the bloodhound that he has tried to lock away in his ribcage for his entire life — he runs his fingers through the raven fur and whispers the name of his next prey into his ears.
Your name.
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haziwritesstuff · 2 months
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My little rose, part 3
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"You are meant to be the love of my next life."
Pairing | Aemond and Aegon x reader Wordcount | 4.2k Warnings | Medieval misogyny, Aegon isn't the nicest Previous chapters | Part 1, part 2
You make your way to Dragonstone, landing on the stone steps of the castle. Your family isn't there yet. It's quiet as you approach alone. You feel like you're walking into an empty castle, with nothing but your own footsteps echoing in the vast halls. The air is still and you feel like you're walking through a desert of stone and silence. You find it oddly peaceful and tranquil in a way, despite the solitude. The change in environment was refreshing and cleansing, after the tense atmosphere that you've just exited. You feel like a weight has been lifted off of your shoulders, a sense of calm and contentment wash over you as you look around at the vast halls and empty rooms.
You find yourself wandering through the gardens, your attention being drawn to the roses as the vivid colors and sweet smells fill the air. You feel your heart skip a beat as you take in the sight of the lush foliage and vibrant petals, and you can't help but feel a jolt of nostalgia. These were the roses that you've always loved, the ones that used to bring you joy and peace when you were a child. Bittersweetness washes over you as you remember those years growing up in solitude, with only Silverwing and the roses for company. You feel like the roses were like your faithful companions, always there to bring you comfort and joy during those times when you felt lonely and isolated. The  roses remind you of those comforting moments of companionship and the bittersweetness you feel is a reflection of the mixture of feelings that those times brought to you. You feel a bit of anger and resentment towards your father for keeping you hidden away from the world for years. You feel like he robbed you of a proper childhood, leaving you alone and isolated with no real friends in your life, he deprived you of so much, he was selfish and callous in his treatment of you. Although you made peace with it, you haven't forgotten it either. You've learned to accept and come to terms with your past, but you haven't let go of the bitterness and resentment that you feel towards Daemon for what he did to you. You've learnt to live with this injustice, but the anger and hurt still remains deep inside your heart.
You've been so deep in thought that you haven't realized someone else has joined you in the gardens. You're startled by Rhaena's sudden appearance and you feel a surge of relief as you realize it was her. "Where have you been? We almost started a search party!” "I'm sorry, I was just..." you stop short, realizing that you don't have an explanation for your absence. You feel like Rhaena's sudden appearance has caught you by surprise and you feel a bit embarrassed to explain why you were away. Rhaena’s staring at you and she’s not willing to let this matter go. There is still more to be said, but there is a certain level of awkwardness and tension and between you two right now. You didn’t want to make a bigger deal out of it than it already has been, so you keep your answer brief and simple. "I just flew alone, I wanted some time to be alone with my thoughts..." Rhaena nods her head, seeming to accept your explanation and she doesn't press the issue any further. “So what did you think of King’s Landing? And what did you think of your other family members?” "Well... it was certainly an experience..." you respond nervously, not sure exactly how to answer the question.
“Mmh. Did you manage to fix your issues with Aegon?” You feel a wave of awkwardness wash over you as Rhaena brings up the topic of Aegon. You're not sure what to say, or how you would even begin to explain the situation between the two of you. “Sort of.” You whispered, feeling like you haven't really fully resolved your issues with Aegon. The two of you still have some things to work out, but the tension is not as bad as it was before. Perhaps kissing him wasn’t such a bad idea after all. Rhaena's observant and perceptive, noticing that you're holding something back when you give your answer. You're not sure if you should give more details to her, you wanted to. You wanted to scream that you’ve kissed Aegon, that you hugged Aemond. That you were utterly confused. This was your first ‘experience’ with the other sex and you weren’t sure what to do now. You wanted to tell her everything that’s going on inside your head, but you decided against it.
•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•
It's been a couple of weeks since you had your experiences with Aegon and Aemond in King's Landing. A lot has happened since then, and things have shifted and changed in your life. Viserys is dead and they have crowned Aegon as King, stealing Rhaenyra’s throne.
"You're going to King's Landing and you're going to give Aegon this.” You are caught off guard by the sudden declaration of your father. You're not sure what he's referring to, but you feel your heart beating faster at the prospect of meeting King Aegon and giving him something. You struggle to contain your anxiety as you look at your father, wondering what he has in mind for you. You're being thrown into a dangerous situation, and you're not sure if you can handle it. There are so many ways this situation could go wrong, you're being pulled into a situation that is bigger than you are ready for. “I don’t think I’m ready… For th-“ his eyes narrow and his voice becomes more demanding. "You must go. It is your duty as my daughter." He stares at you intensely, his eyes sharp and piercing. He's not giving you a choice, you must do his bidding. Daemon's eyes narrow even more as he glares at you. "I am not giving you a choice," he says harshly, "You will go to King's Landing and you will give Aegon this." He leans forward and holds up a small black pouch. "This is the message that I want you to deliver to him. Do you understand?" The intensity of Daemon's gaze leaves you feeling scared and intimidated, as if he's determined to not let you refuse or refuse his demands. You realize that you have no choice but to go, and are left feeling like a pawn in this game of power and politics. “Yes, I understand." you say softly, having no choice but to comply with his orders, since he is your father and you have been raised to obey him. Daemon doesn't respond. Instead, he hands you the small black pouch and begins to walk away, his walk slow and measured.
Daemon's words leave you feeling scared and uncertain about your upcoming trip to King's Landing, where you are expected to deliver a message to the new king. You don't know what the message contains, and you feel a sense of anxiety and unease about the situation, as well as a sense of trepidation about the journey ahead.
It turns out you weren't the only messenger. You learn later that same night that Rhaenys, Jace, and Luke were also sent off with messages of their own. Thinking about the message you're carrying, you can't help but wonder what it could be. It's a heavy burden, with your life potentially hanging in the balance. Every step you take on the road to King's Landing is a step closer to danger and potential confrontation with the new ‘king’. The gravity of the situation suddenly sinks in, and you feel like you're walking into the unknown. Aegon wouldn’t hurt you, would he?
•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•
It's a long journey to King's Landing, but after countless hours of flight, you finally make it to the city. You land in one of the city's landing spots, feeling both relieved and exhausted as you finally made it. That sense of relief and exhaustion is quickly replaced with a sense of anxiety and uncertainty as you realize that you still have the task left: to deliver the message to the new King, Aegon II.
You make your way to the castle in King's Landing, walking up to the gates. There are guards stationed on both sides of the gate, who keep watch over the castle grounds. You feel anxious and fearful as you approach them, they keep an watchful eye on you as you draw closer. Eventually you find your way to the throne room of the castle. Aegon is sitting in his throne, his piercing eyes looking down at you. He is flanked by a handful of guards and advisors, forming a circle around him. As you enter the room, the quiet conversations and whispers stop instantly, and all attention is focused on you. His gaze is like a blazing flame, his look burning into you as he waits for you to speak. The guards and advisors stand close by, as if they are ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. Everyone in the room is watching you intently, and you feel the pressure of everyone's eyes bearing down on you.
“I brought you a message from Queen Rhaenyra.” Your voice sounds small and strained as you speak, the weight of so many eyes upon you is overwhelming. The atmosphere in the room is thick with anticipation. After a pause, Aegon speaks, his voice calm and measured. "And what is the message?" "The message is personal and private, and it is to be delivered only to you and no one else." Aegon’s eyes narrow and his expression becomes more intense, as if deep in thought. He's silent for a moment, before finally speaking. "I see. If the message is personal and private, then why are you delivering it instead of Queen Rhaenyra herself?" The tension in the air increases as he speaks, his tone is stern and his face is fixed in a serious expression. He's awaiting a good reason for him to accept this message as legitimate and not a trick or ruse. "There must have been some reason for you being sent here, rather than Queen Rhaenyra coming herself," he says, "Is there a reason why she wouldn't have come here herself? If this message was so personal and private, why didn't she come herself to deliver it?" “I’m not sure.” Aegon raises an eyebrow, his expression becoming even more skeptical. "You're not sure?" He asks in a skeptical tone, "That's a rather unsatisfactory answer, don't you think?" After a few moments, you finally speak again. “My father sent me as the messenger.” “And why would he have done that, I wonder?!”
Aegon stares at you for a few more moments, with a stern and intense expression, before finally speaking again. “Well, I suppose we shall just have to read the message for ourselves, and see what Rhaenyra has to say.” He finally reaches for the small black pouch in your hands, and begins opening it. He removes the message inside and examines it, reading what is written on it. After a few moments, he looks back up at you. "That cunning bitch," he mutters under his breath. His fury seems to be reaching a boiling point, as he speaks again. "Everyone out!” As the room falls silent, you look at Aegon, who is now standing in front of you, still clutching the message in his hands. His face is contorted with fury, and his expression is like the face of a raging bull, ready to charge at a moment's notice.
After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, he speaks again. "How dare she send you here with a message like this!" He shouts, his voice full of rage and anger. "She thinks she can tell me what to do? Who the fuck does she think she is!?" He stares at you for a few moments, his eyes narrowed and his face full of rage. "And does she think I'm just gonna let you walk away after this?!" "Pardon me?" Your face began to grow darker. "I will not let this pass. I will not let her disrespect me in such a manner. And I'm not going to just let you walk away either. I will not let you go. You're going to be my prize of war, and you'll stay here with me, where I can take my time with you." The threat of violence is now very evident in the king's tone. He continues to stare at you, his expression growing darker and more intense.
This was probably a big mistake. You can feel the weight of his glare digging deep into your skin, and you feel like he's considering what he's going to do to you even more seriously now. After a few moments of silence, Aegon takes a deep breath and starts to speak again. "You're going to stay here with me, and I'm going to take my time with you. Your queen might think that she's being clever and making a request, but I'll show her just how foolish she is." "The fuck I am! You can't keep me captive!" Aegon takes a deep breath and nods his head slowly. "Oh, can't I?" He responds calmly and politely, but his tone is one of pure menace. “I can keep you here for as long as I like, and there's nothing you can do about it.” His face grows even darker, and he slowly steps towards you. He moves in closer and closer, getting right into your personal space. He's so close that you can feel his breath on your neck, and it's an unbearably intense feeling. His face just a few inches away from your ear. You feel his breath tickling your neck, and it sends a shiver down your spine. His voice is like a whisper, but it's a whisper of pure threat and power. "You're mine now." His breath tickles your skin, you feel like you can't move, like your body has frozen up and you can't even scream.
Aegon’s breath continues to tickle your skin as he pulls you close to him, his lips just brushing against your skin. You feel powerless to move, as if your body has been frozen in place by the fear he is instilling in you. "Worry not sweetling, we'll have a good time." He whispers into your ear, his voice is like a snake slithering its way into your head. "N-no..." His breath continues to whisper into your ear, and his voice is full of a predatory kind of sensuality. "Oh, yes.." He replies slowly, dragging his next words out for a long time. "You are mine, there’s no running from me now. I’ll take good care of you..." You try to break free from the his grip, but it's hard to get away from him. He holds you close to himself and his hold on you is tight. He seems to be enjoying himself far too much at the prospect of taking you for his own. Your body is filled with fear and trepidation, but you also feel a strange sense of excitement and arousal. Your body is responding to his touch in a way that is both terrifying and pleasurable at the same time. Aegon’s hands are caressing your skin softly as he pulls you closer to him, holding you even tighter and not letting you go anywhere. You let out a whimper as the caress of his touch sends a tingling sensation down your spine. You're being consumed in a very intimate way, your body being overwhelmed by his presence and you feel yourself melting in his grasp. Your attention was completely focused on Aegon that you didn't notice Aemond entering the room.
Aemond sees the two of you, and you can tell from the look in his eye that he is absolutely furious. He walks up close to you, and you feel the heat of his anger radiating off of his presence like a fire. Aegon finally notices Aemond's presence and looks over at him with a dark expression, his mouth curled up into a sneer. His grip on you becomes even tighter, and you can feel the heat coming off his body like a furnace as he stares at Aemond. He seems very protective of you, and he is not going to let anyone interfere with his plans. Aemond's eye was burning with fury, staring down at Aegon, his voice is a low and menacing growl. "What do you think you're doing with her?!" Aegon looks up at Aemond with a dark and menacing expression, he continues to hold you close to himself. "I'm taking her for my own." He replies in a cold voice. Aemond's eye is still fixated on Aegon, and the two men seem to be locked in a fierce staring contest. You can feel the tension in the air increasing as both men glare at each other, their hostility and aggression rising even higher. Aegon’s grip on you tightens even more, and you feel like you're being smothered.
"I will not let you touch her!" Aemond snaps, and you can tell he's barely holding back his anger. His face is a mask of fury, his body is tensing up, as if he's preparing to attack at any moment. He seems absolutely determined to protect you, and you can feel the raw power and aggression coming off of him like a storm of fury. Neither man wants to back down in this stand off, and they continue to glare at each other with a sense of simmering fury. You're trapped in the middle, with all of this tension and hostility growing around you. Your body is being overpowered by Aegon’s grip and you can't move away. "Please let me go..." Your voice is completely being ignored by both men as their confrontation becomes more intense and heated. You try to plead with both Aegon and Aemond to let you go, but they both seem to have lost all rationality and their sense of logic. Now all they're focused on is fighting over your possession. You’re trapped, scared and helpless as you continue to plead with him to let you go. But his resolve is like iron, and you can't help but feel like this is the endgame for you, and that you're going to be carried off in the king's arms at any moment now.
Aegon finally releases you from his grip, and you fall to the floor at his feet. You can feel him looking at you with a cold and menacing glare, but you're also relieved to be free from his grasp. You have a few seconds of hesitation and fear before Aemond pulls you behind him. You cling onto his back as he faces Aegon and you can feel his anger overflowing like an overflowing cup of wrath. "A-aemond..." you whimper, clinging onto him for support. He's the only thing in this room that seems like it could protect you right now. You feel like you're safe with him, but you still can't help but feel terrified at what might happen next.
"I am going to escort her to a guest room and then I’ll deal with you, Aegon." Aegon stares at Aemond with a deadly look of fury, but he doesn't resist. He lets Aemond lead you out of the room, and you're still clinging onto him for support. You feel safe and protected in Aemond's arms, but you still can't help but feel a bit of hesitation and uncertainty. Aemond's tone is stern and authoritative as he leads you out of the room. He doesn't look back at Aegon, and he keeps his eyes focused on the task of safely getting you away from him. You can feel him breathing softly next to you, and you can feel his muscles flexing slightly with each step he takes as he leads you out of the room. He leads you through the halls of the castle. Your body still clinging onto him as a source of protection and comfort, and you’re slightly trembling with fear and nerves. Despite being stern and authoritative, he's also being very gentle and careful with you.
The two of you finally arrive at a room, and Aemond closes the door behind you. He turns to face you, and you can see the intense look in his eye as he stares at you for a moment. You feel like you're being scrutinized by that penetrating gaze, and it makes you feel a bit uncomfortable. He's not smiling or being friendly like before, but instead he seems to be assessing you in an oddly intense way. Aemond stays silent for a minute, continuing to look at you with that intense gaze. You feel like he's looking at you like a stranger, and you feel like he's judging you based on what happened back there. You feel a bit nervous under his intense stare, and you feel like he's not being friendly at all. You have no idea what sort of reaction he is going to have to this situation, and you feel very vulnerable as a result. You still feel like a trembling nervous mess under his stare. After a minute of silence, he finally speaks in a stern voice. "So...what happened back there?" His tone is very serious and stoic, there's no hint of friendliness in his voice. His eye is penetrating, looking into your soul. You don't know what to say, and you feel like your words are being scrutinized heavily. "I, I gave him a message from Queen Rhaenyra." Aemond’s face remains stoic and unchanged, and he waits for you to say more. His face show no hint of a reaction to what you've said, and he continues to stare at you with that piercingly intense gaze. "I have no idea what it says... But I can only imagine... Aegon isn't the rightful king." His face still remains expressionless, studying you intensely. He still seems very cautious and distrustful. He seems suspicious of your reason for delivering the message in the first place. "So, you're trying to steal my brother's crown?" Aemond finally spoke, and your heart skipped a beat when you heard his voice. His tone filled with a suspicious kind of disdain. His words were loaded with malice and anger as he accused you of trying to steal his older brother's crown. You could not help but feel your heart beating in your throat at his accusation. "Your queen is a usurper, and a thief. She is trying to steal my brother's crown."
Your heart skipped a beat when Aemond moved closer and caressed your cheek gently, your body shuddering slightly at the touch. You could feel the heat of his breath and his touch on your skin, and your whole body felt like it was trembling under his grasp. "I'm afraid your our prisoner now, dove." His touch made you shiver and tremble in a way that you found both thrilling and frightening. The way he caressed your cheek with his thumb was so tender and gentle, his touch was like a gentle caress sending butterflies through your whole body. "My father will have your head for keeping me hostage!" Your words seem to be have a profound effect Aemond's stance as he stops caressing and backing away slightly. His eyes are filled with a sudden flash of anger and hostility, and he seems to be glaring at you with a mixture of distrust and fury. He then speaks in a harsh and stern voice. "My brother will also have your so called queen’s head for being a traitor to the throne! You should be grateful that I have chosen to keep you safe." His sudden outburst of anger and hostility took you off guard, and you had no idea how to handle his sudden change of mood. You felt like a small and powerless creature facing off against a giant beast. His tone was menacing and he seemed so much stronger and more frightening than you remembered him to be. As he spoke, his anger and hostility made you feel even more vulnerable and scared. This was not the gentle and friendly Aemond you remembered, this was a whole different beast entirely. "I am protecting you. Your so-called queen would never treat you with such care as I have." He took one step closer again, his tone sounding more insistent and authoritarian than before. You could feel the heat of his breath and the intensity of his gaze, and your heart was beating out of your chest. "I will take care of you. I will protect you." He spoke softly this time, almost sounding like a whispering voice. You felt like your whole body was trembling with fear and nerves, but you felt a strange sense of comfort underneath the intensity of his gaze. You felt like a small animal being held tightly in the grip of a predator, but in this predator's eyes you found a hint of kindness and tenderness. "Do you see how I am treating you? Like a precious jewel. Like a delicate flower. Like my little rose."
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deathmetalunicorn1 · 3 months
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Henloo! ^^ I was thinking about Charybdis reader stopping the third round. It was said that Adam was told by Brunhilde to keep the reader from watching the fight between Kojiro and Poseidon. But what if she somehow manages to free herself from Adam's grasp and runs up to the arena with the sole purpose of stopping the battle because: 1) Reader doesn’t want to see Kojiro getting hurt anymore and 2) Perhaps catching a glimpse of Poseidon's genuine remorse makes her own heart soften, ever so slightly.
Charybdis, even knowing the risks of getting involved, stands between the two to prevent them from fighting any further, and forces Poseidon to abandon the fight so neither of them dies, begging him to just give up before it escalates any further.
You could always make a recap for context but I would personally like for the request to be about the aftermath of the round, with father and daughter interacting. Charybdis' relationship with Poseidon would definitely be strained and damaged beyond return, but after the reader gives him a harsh (but sincere) speech that feels like a punch in the gut for him, he's granted the chance to make things right; not as a father, but as a God (since she now has Papa Adam). And with no room for any mistakes, by the way!
-Despair and guilt were the only emotions that Poseidon could feel, as well as anger at himself.
-You, his little daughter, was lost. You had found a new family, a new papa and mama in Adam and Eve, calling them such.
-You now had a massive family, between your new parents, the human fighters, the valkyries, and Hercules.
-You no longer needed him. You no longer wanted him.
-He wallowed in his own anguish, all of which was his own causing, hiding away in a private room that he trashed within moments of entering, then sat for what felt like hours.
-Poseidon was in a fog, unable to comprehend any thoughts other than you, what he did to you, and what he didn’t.
-As a king, he kept all emotions locked deep within him, hidden away from the eyes of others, from the eyes of those who look up to him and respect him, even if it is respect out of fear.
-But seeing you, his child, terrified of him and calling another man, a human man of all things, your papa.
-Poseidon longed for a second chance, to go back in time to that point where he walked away from you and your mother, to take you with him instead of abandoning you.
-He longed to be able to go back and defend you against Zeus; Poseidon clutched his chest over his heart as he could only remember your face when you told him that you were just so hungry, and for it, you were severely punished.
-When the first tear landed on his hand, his hands lifted to his face, finding himself crying. He couldn’t remember the last time he cried.
-When it came time for him to fight, none mentioned his bloodshot eyes, the skin rubbed raw around them as he had to regain his image.
-He entered first, hearing the cheers of many gods, but many who were terrified of him, of his notorious temper and ruthlessness.
-The same ruthlessness that drove you into the arms of another papa.
-Kojiro took a while to come out, as you had wrapped your arms around his knees, making him unable to walk as you sobbed, begging him not to fight Poseidon, or as you called him, The Mean God.
-You were being held back by Brunnhilde, her heart breaking as you were reaching out to Kojiro, calling out for him, sobbing loudly.
-Brunnhilde took you back to Adam, telling him to not let you watch this fight.
-Kojiro made no mention of Poseidon’s eyes, he could tell the god had been crying, but he knew of your past, he knew what Poseidon did to you and what he didn’t do.
-Kojiro respected Poseidon enough to acknowledge that he felt regret for his actions, but he also knew that he was in a fight for his life.
-Poseidon was fearsome, his anger turning on Kojiro, all of his negative emotions coming out all at once.
-It made him powerful, but it also made him very sloppy, reckless, within minutes Poseidon had lost an arm already and had a deep gash in his side, but Kojiro was worse off.
-The samurai had a deep gash in his stomach, as well as a stab wound in his shoulder, and was bleeding heavily from a deep slash in his chest.
-You had managed to get away from Adam, and you had seen Kojiro being hurt, startling you so badly that you didn’t breathe for a few long moments before you ran, rushing down the stands while Adam and Brunnhilde were chasing after you, calling out your name.
-Both Kojiro and Poseidon heard Adam scream out your name and they both turned, seeing you leaping from the stands to land hard on the arena they were fighting on, rolling a few feet.
-You weren’t hurt, just a little disoriented, but you quickly stood as the crowd was alight with cries, seeing a child rushing out so recklessly.
-You leapt in front of Kojiro, despite Poseidon being stunned stiff and not moving, your arms spread, “Don’t hurt Kojiro anymore!”
-Kojiro was gasping softly in pain, “Charybdis!” and quickly the whole arena knew who you were. Poseidon looked conflicted, you could see the sadness in his eyes which surprised you, but you remained firm, you weren’t moving- he wasn’t going to hurt Kojiro anymore, “I’m not going to let you hurt anyone else!”
-Your declaration broke Poseidon’s heart, as it was a jab at him, for him abandoning you so long ago, and Kojiro was fully prepared to grab you and run, to protect you.
-Neither of you were prepared to see Poseidon lowering his weapon, his posture relaxing, “Charybdis- daughter, why are you protecting this human?” he couldn’t understand it.
-Your eyes were like fire, feeling so angry, despite the tears flowing from your eyes, “Kojiro and the other humans are nice to me- much nicer than you ever have been or any of you gods, like Zeus! You are all mean and treat humans like they aren’t worthy of protecting! I’m going to protect Kojiro, and if you want to hurt him you’ll have to hurt me again!”
-The cries of outrage were immediate, hearing your pain, as many knew of your past, and what had happened.
-Kojiro kneeled down, dropping his sword as you broke down into sobs and you turned, rushing into his arms and he hugged you softly, stroking your hair.
-Poseidon believed that should have been him comforting you, but you were right- he had done nothing but drive you away and there was no chance at getting you back…unless…
-“I forfeit the fight!” Poseidon’s declaration had everyone stunned stiff and silent, completely shocked and you turned, your eyes wide as Poseidon spoke down at you, “You are right daughter, we haven’t been very good gods. Perhaps it’s time we learn how.” And with that he turned, demanding a meeting of the gods.
-Nobody had ever seen Poseidon looking so serious and seeing this determination had the other gods scrambling to have an immediate meeting.
-You were taking backstage with Kojiro, crying the whole way as he had been hurt and he was patting your head, laughing lightly, “You’re gonna get puffy eyes if you keep crying!” Brunnhilde couldn’t help but smile as well, seeing your bravery, albeit foolish bravery, in stopping the fight and in turn, stopping the whole tournament.
-Poseidon was the one who came to inform you that the tournament was off and that the gods were going to do better, promising that to you. You were hesitant to believe him, and you were surprised that he didn’t try to come back into your life as a father, as he knew he lost that to another, to Adam.
-The others were just as surprised, seeing him respecting your space, reporting to you like you were his boss, showing you that he was being honest with his words and his actions.
-Poseidon’s heart ached, knowing he would never get a chance to have a father-daughter relationship with you ever again, but being with you, showing you that he was trying to be a better person, earning your smiles and praise, was enough for him.
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searchingforatrail · 4 months
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Title: Administrative Leave ao3 original post (follow for updates)/my twitter :D Summary:
Optimus had a day. A very, very bad day. And what was supposed to be a small visit on the Lost Light turns into a week long hold after Ratchet places him on leave for his mental health.
Optimus Prime stood in the midst of Swerve’s , frozen in what seemed like an eternity, relishing the sensation of heaviness that had rolled off of him within the last few moments.  He felt empty, light, after having offloaded what must have been the longest, most erratic, most horrendous answer to “Are you okay?” that the Ratchet had ever heard. 
For a moment, a minute moment, he felt relieved. His grievances, from the second this damned war had started up until now had been aired out into the open. And he was free, if only for a moment. Why Primus had orchestrated his breakdown to take place on the Lost Light , he wasn’t sure. But it had, and he felt grateful for it. 
Then reality settled in. 
It felt akin to a bullet lodged deep within him. Past his armor, wriggling itself through the thick walls and nestling into the soft metal of his protoform. And now, it was finally being yanked out after years of becoming a part of him. Upon receiving the wound, he had expected the worst at the initial injury. But no–the worst was what lingered. The mischievous pain that claimed a temporary absence, only to erupt throughout his frame when he least expected it. When life already had a servo wrung tightly around his neck. 
It was always there…
The ache was always there. Dull during the warmer months–the warmer times, hidden behind half-hearted smiles and softened gazes. Behind phantom reassurance.  It swelled during the winter, ached with the steep drop of temperatures. 
And Ratchet must have caught him in the midst of a blizzard. It was a perfect storm, actually.
And now he had to deal with the aftermath, the bleeding, the aftercare, the humiliation. The feeling of being exposed. The bullet was out, and the entire crew had witnessed its removal. 
Because Optimus Prime never lost himself, not like this.
He opened optics that he hadn’t even been aware had been closed. Coolant leaked from the crevices, and he brought shaky digits to his faceplate to caress the cool liquid, smearing it against the metal of his frame. Megatron sat a few chairs away in silence, shocked perhaps that Optimus’s anger hadn’t been directed at him. They locked gazes briefly, but Megatron had broken contact first. Thus with great effort, Optimus turned to fully face Ratchet. 
His spark fluttered at the mosaic of emotions that fluttered across Ratchet’s face. But it practically ached at the pure hurt. 
Hurt of a friend who had been unfairly burdened with the unaired grievances of another friend who barely made time to call. Who barely made time for regular check-ins, or quality time. 
Then it hardened, stoic like a doctor who had little room for affection or hurt. Optimus knew he had very little time to get himself together before Ratchet either locked him out for good, or did something drastic. 
“Oh–Ratchet, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to–”
The older bot shook his helm. 
“Optimus, when was the last time you were psychologically evaluated?”
Optimus’s eneregon ran cold. Frozen. Because the honest answer would usually not constitute any specific consequences. They were in war, gradually recovering, and the occasional sidelining of one’s mental health was to be expected. But that was usually because those in high command had managed to keep their senses in check. 
Having what most must have considered an emotional breakdown mid Swerve’s did not constitute as keeping one’s senses in check. But Optimus had embarrassed himself enough. Admitting to Ratchet how badly the war had impacted him would only be icing on the cake. 
He ex-vented, mustering up the scraps of dignity and the facade of respect he had practiced so well. He willed his EM field back into it’s normal parameters. 
“I apologize Ratchet. I confess I have neglected to complete the required examinations, but I will ensure I am able to when I return to Cyb–”
Ratchet held up a servo, effectively silencing the blubbering excuse that danced on the tip of Optimus’s tongue. The look of pain that crossed his features would have been enough to silence Optimus had the servo not. For a brief moment, Ratchet’s own EM field intermingled with  his own. Anger, betrayal, yearning, I’m here for you, why did you have to wait for it to be like this? Why are you lying to me?  Bombarded him all at once. Then, just as Optimus had done, Ratchet calmed his field and put on his own mask. 
The words spoken next were delivered as if they had been pre-recorded by a machine. 
“As your commanding medical officer, Optimus Prime, I am obligated to relieve you from duty. You are no longer fit to serve. You will remain on the Lost Light for the duration of the time I see fit. I’ll inform the Autobot high command of the current…situation.” 
Part of it seemed like a punishment. A way to rebel against the tone Optimus had taken against him moments earlier. Or something else, another slight against Ratchet that Optimus had managed to catalog since the beginning of the war. 
He considered his next actions more to add to the growing list. 
“I respectfully decline your decision.” Optimus did not wait for Ratchet to respond, simply moved past him and gaited towards the exit. He held his helm high and his optics straight. He had embarrassed himself enough by his outburst. No need to do so further by locking optics with the other patrons,  especially those who he had some relation with. No need to recoil into the familiar shell he had grown accustomed to over the years. 
All at once the bar seemed to come alive. Conversation resumed, albeit awkward. With each step, the deep coil within his processor unfurled like gently pulled wires. It would come back by the time he returned to his ship, weighing him down as the magnitude of what he had just done settled within him. He would have to craft an apology to Ratchet–one of many he had yet to do. 
“Megatorn, Magnus, restrain him. I’ll administer a sedative if I need to, but do not let him leave this ship.” 
And there it was again, the silence. The hushed whispers and the heaviness in full force. He sensed a swelling EM field, though in his anxiety he could not decide who it was. But given his track record of following orders, Optimus figured it was Magnus. And the small, uncertain one, must have been Megatron’s. His borrowed time certainly had changed him.
Optimus stopped in his tracks but did not look back, refusing to address the encroaching mechs. He stared at the door with a fiery gaze instead. 
“Megatron, Ultra Magnus, I will only warn you once. Any attempt to restrain or prevent me from reaching my ship will be met with force.” 
“Then it’s great that they’re not the ones handling you.” 
All too quickly, a flood of cool liquid surged through his frame. It burned at the base of his back, where Ratchet must have injected the serum. His frame shook and his knees buckled beneath him. His vision glitched as he struggled to look ahead, and then, the all too familiar sound of a full system shutdown reverberated throughout the bar. 
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emsylcatac · 7 months
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good evening, short Adrien & Félix post S5 finale fic hurt/comfort:
* * * * *
Adrien’s fists pounded on the door repeatedly, in a synchronised rhythm with the breath he was trying to catch. He figured he could have taken the lift, but the adrenaline and blind anger had surged him to take the stairs – standing still was not an option. And the door wasn’t opening fast enough.
“Félix!” he shouted, punctuating each word with a fist on the door, “open. the. door!”
The small, currently extremely tiny part of him that was still somehow rational, the one that had reminded him that his cousin did not need to find Astrochat bursting into his room through the window, told him that ringing the bell would be a better and far more efficient option. But Adrien had already listened to his level-headed side once by coming through the front door of the Londonian apartment, and estimated it was more than enough considering what his emotions could bear at the moment.
Besides, the pain he felt coursing through his knuckles and hand more intensely with each punch felt good.
“I don’t care if your girlfriend’s here and you’re busy smooching her right now, you better open that door or else I’ll—”
The words died on his tongue as the door swung open, his fist nearly colliding with Félix’ stoic face.
“Adrien. How did you get here?” he greeted, voice emotionless.
Adrien was glad Félix had at least the decency of not asking what he was doing here.
“You knew,” he spat instead of answering, storming inside the apartment as Félix took a single step aside to let him in. “You knew, and you didn’t tell me!”
Félix’ brows raised slightly. “Knew what?” He asked carefully.
Adrien nearly growled. Félix didn’t get to measure his words, like he had no idea what he meant — like he was testing whether Adrien had the full picture, or just one of the many things he’s hidden from him.
“Don’t play dumb with me,”  Adrien jabbed a finger in his chest, “you know exactly what I’m talking about. Nathalie told me everything,” he said, and oh no, he could feel the knot mounting in his throat and the start of tears pricking his eyes.
Adrien didn’t want to cry in front of poised, ever-so-collected Félix. He couldn’t handle his snarky comments at the moment.
“She told me about my father, she told me about the–the r-rings…” he shook his hand wearing said rings in Félix’ face to show him he knew perfectly well what he was talking about, “...everything!”
Adrien took a deep breath, trying to regain control of his emotions. 
As predicted, Félix remained impassive. “She did? Oh, good.”
Adrien spluttered. “Good? Good?! That’s it? That’s all you have to say?!”
Félix raised an eyebrow, and went to pick a deck of cards on the coffee table. “What else do you want me to say?” he replied, turning back to Adrien, passing the cards from one hand to the other with ease. “Congratulations? It’s about time?” He stopped playing with the cards and opened his arms. “Welcome to the club?”
Adrien clenched his fists. “How about ‘I’m sorry for not telling you about your father being a supervillain and about yourself being his sentimonster puppet, my dear cousin whom I loooove and respect and hated to lie to?’” he sneered.
Félix switched to splitting his deck of cards in two, then slotting them back together with his thumbs. Adrien would find impressive the ease with which he smoothly reunited the two piles into one if he wasn’t feeling so betrayed. As it was, his little magician shuffling only infuriated him all the more.
“It’s not that easy”, Félix said after having shuffled his cards three times.
Adrien scoffed. “Oh, really?” he crossed his arms. “It’s not like you never visited or didn’t have my number. But I guess it was much more entertaining to leave me in the dark and watch me stupidly struggle to even dare to say "no" to my father while you very nicely called me his puppet to my face.”
He hadn’t forgotten that comment the first time Félix had visited after his father and Adrien’s mother had passed. It had hurt at the time — it hurt even more now, to know that Félix had been taunting him with information and a freedom he hadn’t known he didn’t possess.
Félix stared silently in his eyes, and for the first time since he got there, Adrien thought he caught the flicker of an emotion he couldn’t quite pitpoint in the green of his gaze.
“You weren’t ready,” he spoke in a softer tone, and resumed shuffling his cards again.
Adrien let out a broken laugh that ended in a half sob. He could feel his blood boiling, the anger and despair that had been coursing through him since he learnt everything exploding out of his body like a sudden gust of wind. 
“But you were?!” he nearly cried. “Of course you think that you, who’s always sooo collected and so sure of yourself, were ready to learn everything. But I, your stupid, emotional and pathetic cousin, aren’t ready to know anything or least I’ll cry!”
Despite his best efforts, Adrien finally felt a few treacherous tears escape his eyes. He bit his knuckles, hoping it’d make them stay in, and looked straight into Félix’ ones, daring him to voice a single comment.
But Félix kept silent instead, and Adrien found no trace of mockery in his eyes. He put the cards back on the coffee table.
“I wasn’t.” Félix finally whispered, a slight tremble in his voice. “I wasn’t ready when I discovered it.” His gaze dropped to the ring on his finger.
His Amok, Adrien figured.
He startled at his admission. Suddenly, he could name which emotion was shyly dancing in  Félix’ eyes: shame.
“It’s not that I think you wouldn’t have been capable of handling it all,” Félix continued quietly. “In fact,” he let out a dry chuckle, and met his eyes once more, “I’m quite convinced you would have handled it far better than I did.”
Adrien thought about how much colder and distant Félix had seemed after losing their parents. About how he’d purposefully hurt him, and his friends. About how he’d decided to erase everyone who wasn’t like them, and create a cruel world where he thought they’d be happy. He thought about Félix’ jealousy, and his quest for revenge; his desire for freedom and for love.
“But it doesn’t mean you had to,” Félix breathed. 
And as Félix gazed at him with uncertainty, Adrien saw him. A broken boy who’d had to carry too much way too soon, and was struggling to recover from it all. And he understood.
He didn’t try to stop his tears this time, and did the only thing he could think of: he took his cousin in his arms.
He cried and cried, hugging Félix tightly, letting him think he was pathetic if he wanted — he couldn’t care less anymore. Adrien didn’t know if Félix was crying too, but he was hugging him back just as tightly, just as sincerely. It reminded him of a time that seemed long, so long ago, when they were close and the best of friends, and Adrien hadn’t known how much he’d missed that until now.
“My father was Monarch,” Adrien sobbed.
“I know,” Félix’ muffled voice replied.
“He–he’s dead,” he hiccuped, completely at a loss as to what to feel about the fact in regards to everything new he had just learnt.
“I know,” Félix whispered back.
“I’m a sentimonster,”  Adrien kept on. “We’re both sentimonsters.”
“I know,” Félix repeated again, and Adrien felt his hand rub timid circles on his back. “I’m sorry.”
Adrien hugged him tighter. He let all the tears in his body carry away his anger and pain, let himself be drained of all energy, until he couldn’t cry anymore. 
“Do you think… Do you think I was ready?” Adrien asked in a raspy voice after a while. “To…to learn everything now?”
A few seconds passed.
“You’re free,” Félix eventually spoke against his shoulder. “Your father is gone. You have people who love you and support you, and who make you happy. I think you… I know you’ll be fine.”
And Adrien knew he was right.
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madame-fear · 1 year
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Could you write a jace hurt/comfort where the reader gets hurt somehow and jace finds her and helps and comforts her. And they end up kissing
*ೃ༄ 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐓𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐒 .ೃ࿐
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— a/n : hello! yess of course, this is super adorable 🥺❤ i hope you like the idea of the reader getting hurt ( + crying ) i made for this 🥰 also, not proofread, so sorry for any mistakes 😔🔫
— summary : request — word count : 1.8k
— pairing : jacaerys velaryon x fem! reader — genre : slight angst that ends with fluff, hurt/comfort.
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Tears continously rolled through your reddened cheeks as you ran through the large, dimly lit halls, making your way towards your own chamber to lock yourself up in there. Behind you, the eldest son of Queen Rhaenyra, Jacaerys – your childhood best friend – chased you as he loudly cried for your name, a grave hint of concern and worry could be heard on his voice. You slightly lifted your dress by it's hem to allow yourself to run more freely without stumbling upon it; but it was of no use, since you had rapidly arrived to your chamber.
Harshly swinging the marbled wood door with loud sobs, you hurriedly got inside, closing the door behind you before anyone could see you in such dreadful distress. A certain relief overwhelmed you once you were locked in your own chamber, sliding down to the floor, and your back softly hitting the door. The tears kept running across your cheek, your legs were tightly pressed against your chest – your arms hugging them – and your face was hidden in your legs. A soft knocking was heard on your door, one that interrupted your train of thoughts, but the violent sobs continued escaping your lips.
“(y/n)?” Jace inquired, his gentle and comforting voice was heard on the other side of the door. “Are you alright, love? I saw you crying as you ran through the halls. I need to know what's the problem.” The tearing slightly stopped, but left a hot trail through your face. His voice tone hinted a notorious genuine concern for your well-being. You didn't want him to see you in such awful state. “It's nothing, Jace. You shouldn't worry.” You were such a bad liar, and Jace – having known you since early childhood – knew that. “I know when you're lying, (y/n). Please – I can't stand to see you in such state. Open the door, my Princess.” His low, cooing voice made your heart certainly warm and flutter at how much of a gentleman he was. A deep, quivering sigh escaped your lips, as you helped yourself stand from the floor. Your hands carelessly wiped your tears running across your cheeks, and you briefly swooped away some dirt from your dress.
The door-opening motion was slow, and weak, your eyes gazing down to the floor in embarrassment of him having to see you having a hard time. The first thing you encountered yourself with was with the tall, young Prince – his facial expressions seemed to be notoriously preoccupied for you. His hand gently took hold of your chin, and tilted your head up so you could look deep into his coffee-coloured eyes. You gently began nibbling your lower lip in embarrassment, as a flow of tears began overwhelming you once again. “Jace, I'm sorry–” you weakly mumbled, apologising for having to make him go through this moment with you. His lips turned into a thin, straight line as tears kept flowing through your cheeks; mixed feelings of rage, anger, concern, and worry arose on his chest.
Unconsciously, his arms flew to firmly – yet, gently – be wrapped around your delicate body, holding you tightly against his chest. Hiding your face in the crook of your neck, the tears continously fell from your eyes, rolling through your cheeks. His hand tenderly rubbed your back up and down, looking to give you some warmth of comfort as he placed his chin on top of your head – his heart felt as it dropped upon hearing your soft, yet violent sobs. “My sweet princess,” his voice was quiet, and soothing, his other free hand now caressing strands of your silky hair. “Tell me, who made you feel this way?” as concerned as he – notoriously – was, a fiery, raging sensation dreadfully increased on his chest at the thought of someone making you, his sweet beloved, feel this way. His arms slowly unwrapped around your body, pulling apart from the hug – but his hands kept a tight grip on your arms, as he stared deep into your (e/c) eyes. The intense way he gazed down at you was intimidating, in a way – but only, because he was already planning on how to get his revenge on whomever was the cause of your tears. The words got stuck on your throat, you felt as if choking on them; and as you tried to recompose yourself, a silky strand of hair fell on your delicate features, covering them.
“I–” as you tried to find the proper words to begin explaining your situation without stammering, his hand flew to delicately tuck the bit of hair behind your ear, his eyes not leaving yours. “I... it-it's nothing. Just an imbecile whom...” as the memories flashed back through your mind, remembering how awfully dreadful it was, the harsh sobbing came back once again. “Referred to me as an useless idiot who is worth for nothing.” at the end of the sentence, your voice broke as the more tearing appeared, breaking down in front of him – your body weight falling once again against his chest, sobbing into it. For a few moments, Jace froze as you cried quietly to yourself on his chest, quietly replaying what you just said to him. Of course, his arms once again were firmly wrapped against your body as a way to offer you some loving comfort, but a wave of rage and anger overwhelmed him slowly – a fiery type of rage that resembled the anger of a true dragon.
“Who told you that?” he inquired, in a serious, monotone voice tone. You lifted your teary eyes to look into his, and began shaking your head. “It's no one important, Jace–” knowing him since childhood, you knew that Jace was definitely going to look for this person, and you preferred to avoid any type of problems that could potentially harm him. Jace pulled apart the embrace gently, and held a firm grip on both your arms. “No one important? This person just referred to you as an useless idiot, (y/n)!” his voice was slightly raised as he spoke, but he wasn't scolding you or anything; he was simply insisting on you telling him who had the audacity to refer to his beloved princess with such adjectives. In his eyes, there was a certain ferocious glint, a glint that expressed a keen need to bravely protect you. “I will not tolerate any type of disrespect towards you, and I will find that person myself.” his grip on your arms softened, and he pulled apart. Turning around, he stormed his way out of your room, eager in finding said person who made you cry your soul out.
“No, Jace, wait!” from behind, you desperately called out for his name, half-shouting. You naturally appreciated the gentle nature he had around you, and how fervently he protected you, but you didn't want to involve him in any sort of problem because someone was dumb enough to make you tear everything you had retained. His steps were quick, but you reached him rather rapidly, as you were half-running to catch up with his pace. Your hand held a tight grip on his arm to catch his attention, as you now stood in front of him, trying to get him to stop continuing his way. His coffee eyes lowered to look into yours, as he stopped walking only to focus on you – your hands placed firmly against your chest. “Jace, please...” you mumbled weakly to him as tears ran through your cheeks. “I don't care about a stupid person right now! I want to be with you.” you slowly admitted, as your hands trembled.
“I... I just need you to comfort me, and stay by my side, please...” his gaze softened, as your voice was shaky. The young prince hated seeing you in such state, and as enraged as he was, he knew what his priorities were right now: and that was, comforting you.
Without responding much, his hand flew to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, and softly caress the skin of your cheek as he stared into your soft eyes deeply. His body leaned closer to you, and placed a delicate kiss on top of your head, both his hands now cupped your cheeks carefully, as if you were as fragile as glass. The way Jace was so delicate and gentle with you made you give into his affection, throwing your arms around his neck. His face lowered down to look at yours admiringly, still cupping your cheeks. As your faces were inches away, you could feel each other's warm breathing hitting against your skins — his eyes lowered to your lips, as his thumb descended from your cheek, to caress your lower lip.
“You're too precious, you know that?” he softly whispered, staring deep into your eyes as his thumb ran all the way across your lower lip. “I can't tolerate seeing you in this state, nor knowing someone hurt you.” without responding anything, you simply returned the stare in silence, a weak smile formed on your lips.
And after a few seconds of awkward silence, your bodies leaned closer, and your lips were pressed together. His lips were soft and plushy, just like you imagined they would be, and the way he kissed you was so delicate, gentle, yet... needy, in a way — as if he had been expecting this moment to happen for such a long time. Though, you couldn't complain much against it, as you had been imagining how your first kiss with him would be like. Jace's hands both cupped your cheeks tenderly, giving into each other's sweet taste. Sadly, you had to eventually pull apart due to lack of air, leaving both of you slightly panting quietly.
“(y/n), I... I love you, very much.” as his heart internally screamed with excitement and intensely fluttered, his lips quivered into a joyful smile. “I promise I will never allow anyone to hurt you ever again, not under my watch.” he continued, speaking softly as one of his hands went to the back of your head, and pulled you closer to his chest, allowing you to listen to his calming heartbeating.
Your arms were wrapped around his body, as he softly caressed strands of your hair with the hand that was in the back of your head, and the other one rubbed your back up and down. His lips kissed gently the top of your head, and he once again placed his chin in the same spot he kissed you.
“I love you too, Jace... I always did.” you mumbled silently, fluttering your eyes closed as you gave into his comforting warmth that could make you fall asleep right there. And you knew that with him sticking by your side, you could never be hurt again... as he would be the provider of pure protective love, eternally.
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— especially dedicated to : my beloved @damatheirin, because i know how much you love jace ♡ and also: @jacesvelaryons
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jaketsparrow · 7 months
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Tending Part 3!!
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Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f! Reader
Word Count: 11.4K
Preview: What happened between Jake and Mariella? What’s happening to you? 
A/N: Y’all wanted the angst, so I present to you ANGST... Please don’t be mad at me. 
MINORS DNI
MENTIONS OF/ TW: Oh boy get ready… dirty talk, name-calling, unprotected p in v sex (don’t do this!), explicit sexual content, impact play, hate fucking (oops), dom/sub, mature themes, brief mentions of body dysmorphia, language, choking, safe words, public activities… fluff (hehe)…  But as always, it's filthy (IMO). Sorry if I missed anything! 
Tending Part 1!
Tending Part 2!
It’s been almost a week since you’ve spoken to Jake. 
Who knew so much could happen in a short amount of time? Dreams came true, and in one swift kick were knocked down. Your life was starting to feel like a movie. Like a meet cute, romantic, and sexy movie. But now, you were just becoming a sad Lifetime movie that your grandma would watch.
You were the sad woman alone in her apartment whose dream boy let her down. It felt pathetic to be this cliche, to be this hurt by a man who didn’t even seem to feel the same way.  Cue the sad montage of memories, and bring on the melancholy music; because this scene was never-ending. 
Saturday night ended in a catastrophic way. You finally had all the control and you still let it- well him, go. The feelings have been burning deep inside you. Your heart feels heavy thinking about it all; how you reacted, how he reacted. 
“Jake…” You coo, “What was going on with you and Mariella?” 
He pulls his head away from your hand and looks at you with a disgusted expression.
“Nothing.” He replies, still in his dominant form. “You have to get over this.”
Was there anything that could’ve changed the outcome? Yes.
The heat of the moment boiled over you and you exploded. You were in no place to be jealous; he wasn’t yours to claim. Still, the anger sat inside you, brewing, accumulating. There was no letting go of that. It was hard to feel like there wasn’t more going on between you two. He cared for you, he protected you in ways you hadn’t seen before. He made you feel like you were actually important to him in some way. 
You’ve run through the scenario countless times, thinking of what would have been better, how you could’ve cut deeper, how you could have forgiven. You’ve learned from your past. Learning that secrets might have been hidden from you, not only from Jake but from Mariella, was painful. You weren’t sure whether to believe what he was saying. There was no emotion, only facts. You felt crazy snapping at him as he remained there perfectly calm.
The worst part of it all was that he didn’t even seem sorry about it. 
You try your best to remain cool, calm, and unknowing in front of him, “Hi Jake,” 
He smiles at you. He holds his gaze for a moment trying to read you, but like every typical man, only sees the surface. He pats your head one last time and walks off to clock in. Fuck. Why is he choosing today of all days to actually be soft with you? He’s never been this comfortable in your presence, giving you pets, actually excited for a shift. You want so badly to feel normal for this moment; to be thankful that he’s trying. But every nice gesture feels like it's souring.
You move your hair back to its rightful place and walk down to the new set of customers that just arrived. 
“Hey, what can I get for you?” You ask. 
The couple doesn’t know, but inform you that they’ll call you over when they’re ready. You move on to the next gentleman, who before you can even ask, informs you that he’ll take the cheapest beer we have. How charming! 
You walk over to the tap and begin to pour him a glass. Jake is heading towards you and you try to be in deep focus on your pour. He turns parallel to you, sliding the front of his jeans over your ass; scooching past you to exit the bar. Purposefully. Not an accident. On purpose in an attempt to mark his territory here. 
He’s stuck his flag on the moon! He’s painting JAKE in big red letters across my ass. He’s trying to remind me that I belong to his cock. You want to belong to him. The butterflies in your stomach are fluttering for him, pleading for you to get over this jealousy and take him right here on the dank bar floor. You think back to the times this exact situation has happened before; maybe those other times weren’t accidental rubs. You want him amidst all your feelings, you want him to take you into his hands and fuck the anger out of you. Really prove to you that you're his and he's yours… But he wouldn’t.
Twenty minutes ago this sentiment would have been great. But now? You feel nauseous. Desperately waiting for a clue of what happened in Mariella’s house. He probably would touch her the same as you, taking control of her body… Commanding her to his will. Touching her in all her favorite spots, which of course would probably be the same as yours. It would be easy for him to do the same things, just interchanging the women. 
You bring the snippy gentleman his beer and take his credit card from the counter. Hardly looking at him. Men. Gross. 
What really could have happened last night? Why did Jake go to Mariella’s house? It had to be for some sinister reason. The smidge of doubt you had saved for him was starting to shrink the longer you waited for the truth. 
Mariella was a beautiful girl. She had this amazing long black hair that she would always style in cute ways for her shifts. Her face was soft, but she had these gorgeous piercing blue eyes. She also had the body of a fucking model. Not those skinny tiny runway models, but those Instagram models with hourglass figures. The ones who make you feel jealous that your ass isn’t that round, or that your body didn’t fit that way into a dress. You always felt a little intimidated by her beauty, surprised that she would want to work in a bar and not run off to Paris Fashion Week. 
After one night of seeing her tips though, you understood exactly why she stayed at this job. Everyone loved her. She barely had to show up for work to make crazy amounts of money. When you both would work Saturday nights before Jake came along, you were thankful that you split tips. She was beautiful, had a bubbly personality, and always convinced everyone that they should have just one. more. round. 
The insecurities are building inside of you as you compare yourself to her. You try to shake the feeling. You still have no idea what happened, you remind yourself. Dwelling on each negative thought that sat in your head wasn’t fair to Jake. You were only allowing the devil’s advocate to speak, instead of remembering that there are two sides to this story and you’ve only heard one. 
You were on a bender of sorts. The mania of the past week left you so high and now you were really feeling the low. Your bed had become a nest of random objects: chip bags, the book you tried to read, the clothes from Saturday night you still refused to move since you took them off, and your childhood stuffed animal you had pulled from your closet to comfort you. You were neglecting your body, neglecting your mind. 
Your room had an aura of depression. You didn’t think this collapse would hurt you so badly, but you felt so low. All that build-up and anticipation for Jake was lost by a dumb mistake. Or was it a mistake? You still didn’t know. Was it easier to preserve your feelings for him rather than trust him? Was it easier to end now instead of waiting months to find more secrets? Were you wrong to be so distrusting? These thoughts plagued you, shocked you… Hit you like lightning; thunder shaking everything you wanted around you. 
You only cried on Saturday night after it was over. The whole ride home you were struggling to see through the tears. Your breath was heavy, staggering, trying to stay alive. Panic was surging through you. Anger, fear, and sadness were attacking you from all angles. You felt even worse knowing you had no right to feel this way about a man who didn’t belong to you. He could have done whatever he wanted and you should have let him. But the way he touched you, the way he made you feel special… It made you feel like you had a fair fight. 
You even cried the whole way into your apartment, to your bed, and really, until you fell asleep from the exhaustion. You had been dreaming about building something with Jake, and you made a very serious decision to cut that dream short. You finally let yourself take control over him, and cut the chase off for both of you. The heat of the moment, the insecurity, the jealousy, exploded in a fiery argument. You felt played, you felt angry, you felt… misled. 
You woke up Sunday morning feeling empty. Your heart raced waiting to see if Jake would text you, would say something about how sorry he felt, or that he didn’t mean to hurt you. You were rotting in bed, smothered in blankets and grime. You feel empty. Your brain cycles over everything. You wish it was Friday night again and he was here, showing you brief moments of weakness…
Stroking his hair as he smiles at you. Caressing your thigh as a means to say thank you. Kissing you softly, holding you close. Finally giving you the form of aftercare he showed you Wednesday night. Staying the night with you. Playing with your hair to wake you up…
But that didn’t happen. And it wouldn’t now.
A message never came on Sunday, so you sat and rotted in bed. 
A message never came on Monday, or Tuesday, or Wednesday, or Thursday… 
And nothing today. 
Around nine, people started showing up to really drink. Each seat at the bar was full, and the tables were even starting to fill up too. The servers had tons of orders; large party groups treating themselves to more drinks than they should. Jake and you were jumping around the bar, trying to clear the orders. He brushed up on you a few more times, but you didn’t even have time to process or be angry at it with the amount of people that needed their precious alcohol. It's surprising to see how frustrated people get when they have to wait longer than five seconds for a drink to appear in their hands.
When you finally had a moment, you stepped off to the corner of the bar to make yourself your own drink. You couldn’t do this completely sober. You filled the glass with whiskey and put some cola in it, as secretly as you could. This was dangerous considering Chris would probably be checking your favorite whiskey during inventory, but you needed it. You took a few big sips, the dark liquor burning through the bubbles. The invigorating fire burns down your throat, forming a pit in your stomach. 
You were savoring this moment, drinking tonight was a means of self-care. You knew to be careful, not take too much at once, not to take too much at all. You just wanted a distraction, but it wasn’t really helping. You just wanted to convince yourself that numbing the feelings was better than feeling them all. You couldn’t numb everything though.
Seeing him jump around you in this new energy… It was hard to watch. Jake always looked so sexy behind the bar. He wore these tight dark wash jeans, black vans, and a black button-up that really showed off his tan. It made you mad how much you wanted him, how much you were thinking about your nights together. Thinking about how he corrected your behavior the first time you were petty with him. You felt better in his presence. Even though he never claimed any wrongdoing, you felt like his touch was his way of apologizing. 
You need to stay focused at the bar, but it was proving harder and harder to do. Every time you saw him, you thought of what Mariella said. You were creating scenarios in your head, convincing yourself that you weren’t the only one Jake was seducing. 
Why else would he go to Mariella’s? Why else would she be so upset? Wait, why was she upset about it? 
Maybe she had the same situation as him and you, and she was the lucky one who found out about the other woman. 
Is she why Jake wanted to take it slow? Is she the reason why he didn’t stay over that first night? 
She wouldn’t even look at him the night after he played, well actually, she wouldn’t look at either of us. She only brought us drinks, she wouldn’t talk or engage with us. She too was trying to focus on something other than him that night. Did she know he was playing that night? Is that why she agreed to cover his shift? Did he ask her to cover for him so that she could be the one there to support him from the sidelines? 
Why didn’t she tell you if anything was going on? After your first shift with Jake, you ran to her to tell her how sexy you thought he was. You even laughed about it together! She said you were crazy to go after a coworker, and that things would get messy. Was she trying to warn you then? 
When you came into the bar Wednesday night she wasn’t necessarily happy to see you there either. You specifically asked for a drink that wouldn’t get either of you in trouble, but somehow you did end up in trouble the next day. Did she tell Chris that you were asking for free drinks? How else would he know? We’re usually pretty good at hiding it or we always cover for each other. Was she upset at what happened that night? Knowing Jake had to drive you home?...
Could she sense something happened?
These thoughts are engrossing you. Breaking you down bit by bit. A lump starts forming in your throat. Your hands are getting clammy and you can feel the warmth taking you over. Picturing a teakettle, slowly starting to whistle and shake with the fire. Every time you turn down the stove, you pump it back up to high, screaming with the heat. You know you want to cry, but standing in the middle of a bar crying wouldn’t exactly solve anything. 
You swallow hard. Forcing the tears to pull back from your eyes. There would be no crying now. There’s a bar full of people and you have your job to focus on. You’re making it impossible for yourself by lingering on every little thought that pops through your mind. Each passing by like a highway billboard, advertising your mistrust and envy.
You rush back over to your drink and chug as much as you can. Your judgment is severely clouded, not from the liquor, but from the emotions. You feel the tension growing in you, tearing you apart limb by limb, nerve by nerve.
You swear that if you were lifted out of this bed, there would be a you-sized indent in the mattress from how you’ve sat there for so long. The bed became a hiding hole. You were sitting at the bottom in the dirt, trying to climb and find any way out. You put yourself in this hole to try and protect your feelings further, but it just made you feel worse. He was standing at the top of this hole, waving down to you; telling you to get out. 
You couldn’t trust Jake and that made you heartbroken. 
11:30 hits and you’d swear this bar became a fucking nightclub. College season is both the worst and the best time for Fleets. We have too much business coming in. 
Jake and you were handling it the best you could. You started pre-preparing the beer buckets; throwing 5 bottles in the tubs, and filling them with ice to pass along when they were ordered. Jake was taking his usual commanding role, telling people off, passing orders off to you, and-
“Back the fuck up!” Jake yells at the man reaching over the counter to touch your ass. You turn to look at the guy. He is quite literally standing over the bar, reaching his hand out, his finger inches from your ass. He’s stuck in a moment of shock, arm extended, completely caught. “Chris!” 
Chris is occupied at the table of regulars, but still, fortunately, hears Jake yell. Chris runs over from the table and removes the gentleman from his overhang on the counter. He yanks him off the bar stool, and escorts him not so gently out of the bar, with his friends in tow. The man is screaming at you, at Chris, and at Jake. 
“Fuck you! Fucking prude! Good thing your boyfriend’s there to save you!” His voice echoes into the night as Chris pushes him past the doors. 
You break your pause and continue making the vodka sodas in front of you. Trying your best to ignore what the man just said. Working in a bar like this means things like that will happen. It's not the first time someone has been caught trying to grab you, and you’re trying not to let it bother you. You didn’t want to feel protected by your ‘boyfriend’, because he wasn’t your boyfriend; you were alone. 
 Jake walks up behind you, resting his arm on your hip, checking on you. 
“I’m fine,” You bark. Trying to prove you’re not a damsel in distress. 
“Hey,” Jake nudges at you to turn to him, and you look back, scowling, “You sure?”
You close your eyes and breathe for a moment. You feel the heat building, growing, trying to come out of you. Your whole body is sweating, clamming up at the overwhelmed state you’re in. Trying to hold back your confusion, trying to hold back your anger at the man, trying to hold back the praise you desperately want to give to Jake. You wipe your hands on the front of your shirt and ball your fists up beside you. “Yes, Jake. I’m fine. He didn’t actually touch me.”
He looks at you with a sad gaze… Maybe he can see below the surface. He rubs your side briefly and gives you a firm squeeze before heading back over to the customers. You exhale slowly, trying to collect yourself. Why did he have to be so protective over you when you were so clearly trying not to be happy with him right now? He clearly wants something; wants you to feel trusted by him. You want to trust him, but it felt so hard to in this moment. 
If he didn’t tell you he was going to Mariella’s, then it obviously was something he didn’t want you to know about. He clearly was being secretive, hiding. You also realize, he probably knows that you know something. How could he not? If Mariella had that big of a reaction with you, then she probably had that big of a reaction with Jake. So here he was, being all calm, cool, and collected, meanwhile knowing that you know what he didn’t want you to know! 
You’re spiraling. 
You reach over and finish the rest of your cocktails. You grab the three vodka sodas in front of you and balance them between your fingers, gingerly carrying them over to the blonde party girls in the corner. 
“About time!” One of them snickers. 
“Next time, you can make them,” You snap back. The shocked look on their faces was priceless. That line would probably get you in trouble if anyone heard, but these girls are already too plastered to even form full cohesive sentences. “Also girls, the other bartender and I are a little concerned. We’re going to bring you some water and cut you off for now. Okay?”
They were understandably not happy about that. Your frustration was mixing with the liquid courage and taking you to an unhappy, and honestly, quite rude place. You tried not to care so much about it, but your heart was growing heavier with each interaction you were having. 
You wave over to Chris, who jumps and scurries to your side. Damage control. 
“Hey Chris, you see those girls behind me?” Chris turns to peer at the girls, quite obviously.
“Yeah?”
“Well, I think they’re probably done for now. They were being pretty snarky. Can you bring them some water?”
“Fine.” He grumbles. 
You sigh. Chris would probably ignore whatever those girls had to say about you since you forewarned him about their behavior first. It wasn’t your first time throwing the customers under the bus, but you didn't enjoy doing it. 
You woke up from your second nap of the day around four. It was still light outside, but just barely. The clouds were making the sky a dull blue. Your hair is a mess, tangled around you. Just by the way it feels against your face, you can tell it probably looks like you accidentally left your windows down at the carwash. Your body is achy and tired. These naps are not exactly refreshing; more depressing than anything else. 
It takes you a moment to realize that your phone has been buzzing. You look at the screen through sleepy eyes. 
No... Jake. 
He’s calling you. The buzz buzz buzz continues as you stare blankly at the screen. Pick. me. up! Answer. The. phone! You tap the screen, sending him to voicemail. That lumpy feeling is happening in your throat again. You feel the sting of emotions wanting to bubble out. Everything you have ignored since Sunday wants to be thrown out. You take your palms and hold them over your eyes, pressing hard; trying to physically repress your tears. 
Buzz buzz buzz. Buzz buzz buzz. 
His name is flashing again over your phone. No! You grab your phone and tap voicemail again. The tears are coming now. They burn going down the sides of your face. The skin is still raw from Saturday night’s blubbering. You use your arms to wipe the tears as fast as they are coming. Your breath is shaky, uncontrolled. You breathe in deeply and try to hold everything in for another moment; trying to collect yourself. 
Buzz buzz buzz… Buzz buzz buzz. 
“No!” You yell. You grab your phone and throw it into the pile of laundry on the other side of the bed. The faint buzzing continues, only now muffled on the clothes. The burn of feelings is crushing you. Rising again, forcing the heaving and uneasiness to return. You collapse into your hands, holding your face and allowing the tears to fall around you. You lower your head into your lap, folded and compressed in your distress. 
Beep! Beep!
Can you get one fucking second? Some idiot out in the parking lot is deciding now is the perfect time to be honking their horn. Do they not realize this is an apartment complex? It's not your friend’s house, it’s a fucking community of people who don’t want to hear that you’re impatient.
Beeeeep! Beeeeep!
You grunt, exhaling as much negativity into your groan as humanly possible. You remove your hands from your tear-soaked eyes and sit up from your stupor. The sadness inside of you is quickly forming into an aggressive mood, overwhelmed by all the excitement. You swing your legs over the bed and angrily stomp over to the window, forcing the glass up to give this asshole a piece of your mind. 
“Shut the fuck up!” You yell. 
A familiar voice shouts back up to you, “Maybe if you answer your fucking phone!”
You look down to the parking lot to find him there. Jake. In the same spot as he was Friday night. His arm is reached over to the horn, temping another honk. In his other hand, he’s waving his phone at you. He’s wearing black linen pants, a distressed t-shirt, and wearing sunglasses to block any emotions from his eyes. He looks so good.
Seeing him after all of this is painful. You want to jump out of the window and let him take you. The sneaky twinge of jealousy and frustration consumes any feelings of absolving him. You made your decision for a reason. 
“No!” You yell back to Jake and slam the window shut. 
You return to the bar, and Jake is clearly behind on orders. Breathe. Walk over to him. 
“Give me something,” You say, watching him line up the tickets. 
He hands you three orders. Beer, beer, and oh more beer. Easy. You slide over to the tap again and start pouring. 
“Hey!” Jake yells to you over the crowd and music, “Last time, you sure you’re good?”
You fill the glass and place it down in front of you. Freezing again, trying to collect yourself. Whenever someone asks if you’re good, they clearly know that you are not. That question pushes even a person who is good to a breaking point. But it was especially pushing you, someone who wasn’t good. No, you were not good. No. Not at all. He is the perfect specimen. The perfect gentleman. The perfect lover. Except, he wasn’t perfect. He was hiding. Lying. Holding back from you. 
You were also probably being delusional and tipsy at this point which didn’t help your feelings towards him. You wanted to still give your heart away to him, even if he stabbed it, broke it, and kicked it around. 
“Not right now,” You look at him, seeing genuine concern in his eyes, “Not now Jake, okay?”
He swallows and nods. 
Maybe he did know that you knew. 
Shut up. You’re spiraling. 
Why the fuck is he here? What is he doing?! What are you doing? You walk over to the bed and fold in half over the mattress. Screaming softly into the comforter. The sheets and mattress vibrate your aggression. You weren’t ready for another confrontation. It was easier to try and ignore everything and let the world slowly collapse in on you. What the fuck?!
Buzz buzz buzz... Buzz buzz buzz. 
Ignore it. You’re still upset. You don’t have anything to say to him, and if you tried to now, you’re not entirely sure what would come out of you. 
Beep! Beep!
Dont. Don’t engage. Remember, don’t give into his control.
Buzz buzz buzz... Buzz buzz buzz. 
Fuck! 
You clamor over the bed to reach for your phone, sprawling out in despair. His name is flashing across your screen, you try to use all of your willpower to not answer. But you cave, sliding to answer. 
“What?!” You snap into the phone.
“Come outside,” He commands.
“You know Jake,” You try not to sound choked up, “I’m really not in the mood.”
“Just come outside.” His voice sounds sincere, “Please?”
Your heart drops upon hearing his tone. Maybe he’s going to apologize. Maybe he’s going to make it alright. 
“Fine.” You reply through grated teeth. 
You don’t even bother to dress yourself. Some might consider this look cozy fashion. Grey sweats, band T-shirt, messy hair. You’re practically dressed for a night out! Anger really brings out a moody sarcastic version of you.  
You begrudgingly head out into the hallway, each step forceful trying to extinguish the anger. You push past the glass doors and head down the steps into the parking lot. You walk over to him, head hanging low, trying to avoid his eyes. You take your last step in his direction, stopping and planting yourself a few feet away from him. You cross your arms, trying to physically exude your uncomfortable feelings. You look up at Jake. 
He’s matching you, standing with his arms crossed. Waiting for you. He seems disappointed in your attitude and probably also your attire.
“Get in the car.” He points to the open passenger-side door. 
“Why?” You grill. 
He walks over to the driver’s side and opens his door to get in. 
“C’mon,” He presses, “Just get in the car.” 
You drop your arms and give in to Jake. You resent how easily you cave into him, especially after everything that’s happened. Everything you’ve been mulling over. 
The last call finally happens around one. For the most part, the bar is emptying, the music has stopped and only the hushed voices of dates & friends remain. Jake hasn’t checked in on you since you kind of told him to back off. You felt bad for being mean to him when he was trying to be nice to you, but you didn’t want anything else to come out accidentally. 
You start to wipe down the counters and collect the empty glasses. Jake finishes closing out tabs and trying to rush people out. 
Chris walks over to Jake and whispers something to him. Jake is visibly disappointed in what Chris is telling him. You listen closely, trying not to be obvious. 
“Not tonight Chris.” Jake pleads. 
“C’mon bud,” Chris begs, “Last time. It’s an emergency.”
“Fine. Fine.” Jake points his finger to Chris, “Last time I’m saving your ass.”
Chris passes over the keys to the bar and Jake snatches them from his hand; shoving them in his pocket and walks over to you.
“I gotta close up. Can you stay?” He asks. 
I guess staying would provide the perfect opportunity for alone time with Jake. “Yeah,” you respond.
The car ride has been completely silent. You didn’t dare to break the tension. You didn’t have anything left to say to him unless he had something to say to you. 
You catch a glance of yourself in the sideview mirror. Yikes. You don’t look so good. Your eyes are red and puffy, your hair is clearly unbrushed, and you look miserable. Fair, considering how you’ve spent the last few days, but still not your usual polished self. You turn to look at Jake. His hair is doing that stupid perfect windswept thing again. Fuck. You look away and watch the road. 
You have no idea where he’s taking you and you’re starting to get concerned about that… The usual houses & buildings on each side have started to stagger, each mile becoming more remote. 
You walk back to the office to put the cash register drawers in the safe. Chris left it open for you so he wouldn’t have to give out the passcode. You drop them in the safe, and each box clamors down into the metal box. You push the door shut and lock the electronic safe. 
You walk back out into the hallway, trying to prepare yourself for your next move. You know the bar is empty now, the tasks are done. Jake is finishing returning the stools underneath the bar. Instead of immediately pouncing at him, you walk over to the bar and take two clean rocks glasses out. You pull a bourbon off the shelf and pour each of you a drink. He looks at you, confused for a moment. 
“Jake… Please sit,” You ask. The tones of disappointment are hard to shake now that the right time has come. 
You put down his drink and pass it towards him across the bar. He sits down on the stool and accepts the glass from you. 
“What?-” He begins to ask. 
“Jake.” You cut him off, “Mariella said something to me.”
The words are out. The anxiety is consuming you. The rage, the confusion, the insecurities, the frustration, all of it taking you entirely. Your arms are shaking. Your legs feel wobbly and unsure if they can hold you. A pit drops in your stomach. It feels like you’re the first car on a rollercoaster, heading straight down, closing your eyes, hoping you don’t fly off the tracks. You try your best to maintain eye contact with Jake, analyzing every facial muscle, and trying to read him. 
He takes a sip of the bourbon, holding it in his mouth a moment, before taking one big gulp. “What did she say?”
He’s too calm for your liking. He doesn’t even seem to be bothered at the thought of Mariella talking to you. Are you overreacting? You don’t like the way this situation is making you feel. 
“She said,” You take a deep breath, trying to not sound shaky or upset, “Well, she said you were at her house last night.”
You wash down the words with a swig of alcohol, trying to mellow yourself out. 
“Maybe you shouldn’t be-” Jake reaches for your glass, and you snap your hand back, clutching the drink to your chest. 
“Jake.” You scold. Reminding him he should be responding to your statement, not trying to baby you. 
He sighs and covers his mouth, rubbing his face. His expression gives away signs of guilt. He looks down at the counter, taps a few fingers, and looks back up to you, “Yes. I was at her house last night.”
Fuck. 
A flurry of raw emotion floods you. You grip the edges of the counter, holding on for dear life. You bite your lip to try and keep it from trembling. Your eyes are welling up and you feel stupid standing like an idiot in front of him. You were an idiot to think that he was yours. You were an idiot to think that someone like him could want just you. You were an idiot to think that he wasn’t trying to seduce any other coworkers. You were an idiot for not getting to him sooner. And you were an idiot for letting him have you. 
“After you saw me?” You croak. Your voice is unfortunately shaking, unable to prevent the upset tone from presenting itself. 
“Yes.” His answers are cold, stripped of any warmth.
Shit. You idiot. You’re so stupid. Of course, he went to her after you. That’s why he rushed out in a panic, scared to disappoint her. You choke down the remainder of your bourbon. 
“Why?” 
“I had to.” He states. 
“What the fuck does that mean?” Your answers are starting to be harsher, the alcohol pushing you into a mean-spirited tone. You’re frustrated and angry that he’s not comforting you, that he’s only doing the bare minimum. 
“Hey,” He snaps. “Nothing happened.”
“Oh really?” You snap back, “You want me to believe after seeing how she reacted, and how quick you were to rush out last night that nothing happened?...” Jake sits there for a moment, taking in your punches. Not fighting back, not saying anything, “I believe it was you who once said nothing doesn’t mean nothing, Jake.”
Jake exhales, trying to keep his cool exterior, which is pissing you off even more, “If I say nothing happened, I mean it.” 
You grab your face in your hands. Trying to hold yourself together a little longer. The echoes of his words and Mariellas echo in your head. You feel ashamed, you feel alone. You want him to reach across the bar and tell you everything is all right and that you’re his, and you don’t have to worry about her. That he wants you to be his, that he needs it. That no one else in the world has compared to you, that he’s been waiting for the right time to tell you. 
But now this complicates everything. Your head is spinning. Gauging whether to trust him or to push him away. Your insecurities flood through you, reminding you that he wasn’t ready for this. He didn’t want the drama. He didn’t want the insecurity: he wanted easy, he wanted the chase, he wanted the fun. You couldn’t be easy when you knew all you could think about was him. And here you were now, thinking about him with someone else. 
The road ends in a small cul-de-sac by a nature trail. He shuts the car off and walks over to your door to open it. You sit further back into the seat, scared of the situation. Scared of his silence. 
“C’mon.” He reaches his hand out to you. 
You hesitate for a moment, meeting his eyes, showing your distaste. You grab his arm and let him lift you out of the seat. 
“What is going on?” Jake finally breaks your silence. 
You pull your head away from your dripping hands. You wipe them on the front of your jeans. 
“Jake I can’t do this.” You look dead into his eyes. 
“What are you talking about?” He asks. 
This feminine rage urges through you. You’ve been in his control for too long. You’ve let him call the shots, you’ve waited for him to make you his prey. You waited for him to text you first. You waited for him to make the first moves. You let him tell you what he wanted, and he let you forget what you needed. 
“Jake I don’t believe you!” You snap. Every inch of your heart is fracturing. You think about all the conversations you’ve had at the bar, every night you’ve worked together in harmony. Every moment where you’ve been close to him. Every moment you’ve been his. Only to be shot back down to one of his. “I have so many feelings about you, too many. I am jealous. I am upset that you didn’t stay the night still. I thought we were starting, I thought everything that I had hoped for was finally coming true. I have been waiting months for you to notice me. Every Saturday hoping you’d look at me a little longer than the last. I’ve lived the chase that you want so badly. I lived it every weekend, trying to play at every angle. I’ve been waiting for you, and you don’t even seem like you want me!”
Jake reaches to grab your arm, “Hey, why don’t you-”
“No! No Jake. I don’t want to calm down. I’m frustrated. I’m confused. I’m confused especially as to why you went to see Mariella last night. I’m confused as to why one of my friends is mad at me now. I’m confused as to why the boy I like was so worried about disappointing her and had to rush away from me to go see her. Something had to happen, and if it didn’t last night, it had before. And I am so hoping I’m not right. Because that would mean, you went behind her back to see me, and she went behind my back knowing I wanted you.”
You take a deep breath. Everything is on the table. Your poker face is gone. Your cool, chill, fun side is gone. You are upset. You’ve revealed yourself too early on. The liquid courage has taken its hold on you, becoming a truth serum. You feel so stupid for it all. 
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jake scoffs. He takes a swig from the bourbon. 
“That’s it?” You say through tears, “That’s all you can say to that?”
“What do you want me to say? You want me to be perfect?” He leans into you, “I am not going to be who you want me to be, ever.”
His tone is serious, and cold, and makes you want to crawl up and lay on the floor. You wipe the tears from your eyes, and walk around the bar to him, standing at his eye level. You put your finger on his chest, pinning him, “I don’t need you to be perfect, I just wanted you. And you fucking ruin it every time. No matter how well you ‘take care of me’ you only come around when you get something from it.”
“Don’t forget who started those games,” He pulls your finger off of his chest, “You think I didn’t see the way you looked at me? You’re telling me you weren’t in it for the sex either? You seemed to also really enjoy those moments.”
His digs hurt. He makes you feel small in this moment. You know he’s right. But that doesn’t excuse how hurt you still are. You do want him. You did need him. Sexually. The tension that has been fabricated in your chest was imploding. You take your hand back from Jake and stare at him for a moment. Both of you are full of rage… And lust. 
He grabs your waist firmly and pulls you into him. Your hair hangs over the edge of his face; you’re so close… You look down in his lap to see how restricted he is against his jeans. 
“Look at me.” He instructs. 
You lift your eyes to meet his. An insatiable look of malice and desire brews behind the brown. An intensity that you haven’t seen has grown inside of him. Every time he’s played this dominant role, you’ve known that he wasn’t actually angry or upset with you, but this time… This time it was different. You loved it. You loved how you could actually see something behind his eyes, see the passion; he felt something because of what you said. This moment of deep, intense passion is almost enough to make you forgive him, but you still aren’t ready to let go. 
“Jake,” You whine. 
He pulls you further into him, taking his hand to the back of your head, and pulling you into his lips; your faces mashing together. The anger is like an aphrodisiac, making his taste insatiable. He stands, kicking the stool back behind him. It clatters to the floor, sending echoes through the bar. He shifts his arm around from your head to your neck and holds it tightly between his grip. You pull away from him, trying to choke at the air. You reach up and grab out to his stomach, trying to paw at him. 
“You’re not going to do this to me,” He says through grated teeth. He relieves his hand from your neck and pushes you over the counter, your gut wedged into the counter. 
“Jake!” You exclaim. 
He brushes himself across your jeans, letting you know he’s taking control. He takes his hands and runs them across your thighs, up your legs, and across your stomach. He runs his fingers towards the button on your jeans, quick to undo it along with the zipper. 
“Not my name,” He barks to you. 
You feel burdened by the weight of the situation, but you can’t deny feeling his touch is softening the blow. He reaches down the front of your pants, his hands just barely meeting your warming clit. He uses his force to pull you back towards him. Allowing you to better feel his cock pressed against your ass.  
“Sir!” You yell. 
He backs himself away from you, and a quick pained smack raps across your ass. Tears start forming in your eyes. You close them, trying to hide the glossiness. 
“This is what my slut gets when she talks like that to me.” 
“Please!” You yell, through gasps. 
“Color.”
You know you can take it, and you know you want to take it. Feeling him want you is the only thing holding you. “Green!” You cry. 
Another quick hand marks your ass. You hold onto the counter for dear life. 
“Do you like feeling this way?” He asks, “Do you like being punished?”
You want to scream ‘no’. You don’t like making him angry, you want him to be happy with you. But secretly you both know that his dark side is more enticing. It's addicting. Having him act this way is the only way you know he wants you. He’s right you won’t get a soft Jake, you won’t get the perfect boyfriend. But that’s not what you want right now. You want this frustration to be taken from you; taken from him too. Most importantly you know having him this way is the reason you’re starting to get wet. “Yes!” You squeal. You prepare yourself for another hit, but nothing comes. 
You start to lift yourself back up, easing your gut away from the rounded counter. Before you can even get inches off the surface, a hand comes down on your head, pressing your face into the cold wooden bar. The smell of cleanser is burning your nose. You feel everything in that moment. The counter that’s pressing into you, the stickiness of it attaching to the side of your face, the strong hand holding you down, and your body collapsing over his will. Jake assumes his mounting position behind you again, leaning into your ear. 
“When will you ever learn?” He asks. 
“Never sir,” You spit back between pressed lips. 
Jake scoffs and releases his hand from your head, moving it down to the small of your back. He takes his hand and yanks your pants down to your ankles. Your ass is bare and red, presenting itself to him. 
He takes his free hand to bring it back to your front, dancing his fingers over your tender clit. You can feel the warmth, the wetness, growing. Your brain is telling you that this is what you need, “This,” He says, applying pressure, reaching further down your pussy, “Is mine.”
“Sir-”
“No.” He barks back, “Color.”
“Green…” You whine. You know you want this. You want him. You need his touch, need to feel secure in this moment. The thoughts of him you’ve been having are consuming you, you want your jealousy to be fucked out of you entirely. 
You hear the jingle of his belt as he takes off his own pants. You dare not move or open your eyes to see. He’s groaning softly, you can hear him start to take himself into his hand. You listen to him lubricate himself, the wet sloshing sounds filling your ears, hearing each pump of his cock in his hands. He presses himself against you again, meeting the threshold of your needy heat. He takes his hands and rubs them over your hips, making large slow movements over your body. He’s teasing you entirely. 
He knows what he wants to do to you, but he has to make it as painfully slow as possible. He rolls his hand over your hips and begins directing towards your cunt. Each second that passes is getting slower, and slower until he slips his middle and ring finger inside of you. 
You gasp, not expecting his fingers to breach you so soon. He takes his other hand to grab your face, his fingers sprawled out on either side of your jaw. “See?” He asks. He slides his fingers out from you, and you open your eyes, “You want this…” He lifts his fingers to show you the dripping wet digits, “You’re already wet for this.”
He’s right, you are. You knew it all night, every glance at him made you want him more. When he saved you from that asshole you wanted him right then. You had been fighting your need for him to touch you. Each moment that he wasn’t touching you, you wanted him more. 
“I know sir,” You reply. 
He takes the fingers and puts them in your mouth. You take them in, suckling up to the knuckles. His rough fingers linger in your mouth for a moment, making sure that you take everything in. He slides them out of your mouth and proceeds to move them back between your shaking legs. He doesn’t insert them, but rather teases your clit, touching just lightly enough to drive you mad. 
“This is what you get,” He snaps. 
Without warning his cock breaches you, and he is by no means gentle with you. Pushing himself in, the hilt of his shaft meeting your body. He grunts aggressively feeling you envelop him completely. A sharp breath escapes you, feeling completely unprepared for his size. He’s stronger, rougher than he had been with you before. A new energy has taken him.
He grabs hard onto your hips, taking a hold you know will leave marks worse than before. He’s using your body as leverage to rock himself in and out of you. Each stroke comes at you harder, pushing your body further into the counter. He’s fucking you into oblivion. 
“Please!” You moan. 
He starts to pick up his motion, pounding you harder against him. Your groans are loud, echoing through the empty bar. Your unprepared pussy is aching, feeling yourself stretch over him, trying to adapt to his size. With minimal warm-up, he’s testing your body's limits. Your knuckles are red and tight squeezing on the edges of the counter. Your breath is sustained to limited gasps, unable to take in too much with the counter being wedged underneath you. Bouncing forward, face gripping to the bar, knowing there would be no way to make yourself more comfortable. 
Jake reaches up and grabs a chunk of your hair, pulling it back from your scalp. You’re arched completely, stomach tightened against the edge of the bar. You adjust your hands to try and hold yourself from completely cutting your stomach off. He reaches his other hand under your stomach, finding a new way to leverage himself further in you. 
“Fuck!” You gasp. 
“Color!” He demands. 
“Green!” Your whole body is in blissful agony. Not feeling any pain, but pure raw pleasure. He’s swiveling his hips, moving his cock inside of you. Each stroke forcefully passes over your g-spot, sending signals of complete dopamine to your brain. 
His soft deep grunts are signaling he’s close, and you are too. The pounding is becoming overstimulating; needing a release. You moan with each pump, letting him know you're on the brink of boiling over. He releases your hair and scoops you up by your neck, not grabbing it but holding it upwards to maintain his positioning. 
Through ragged breaths, he still tries to control you, “You don’t cum… until I do.” 
“Please, sir!” You protest. You can feel the heat and building happening within you. Your legs grow weaker, shaking against his body. You squeeze onto anything your hands can reach, his arm, the counter… You almost can’t hang on. You tighten yourself and try to hold back any orgasm. The night has been needing a release like this, a moment of selfish pleasure. You wanted him to use you like this, to remind you that he still wanted you. 
“Fuck!” He wails. In a few last pumps, he spills into you, and you let yourself go. Completely. A loud pleasured moan escapes from your lips. Your body convulses at the final feeling. A warm hot burn caressing you, sending tingles through your muscles. Your body collapses in his arms as the two of you mix together. 
He places you on the counter gently, careful to not let your head completely smack against the surface. He slowly pulls out of you, both of you gasping at the over-stimulating sensation. You watch him from the corner of your eye, trying to regain your breath. 
He carefully tucks himself back into his jeans and falls back onto the stool. You pry yourself from the counter and slowly pull your jeans back on. The feeling of denim pressing against your aching pussy doesn’t feel great, but you’d rather not be the only one still showing off. 
The release you had been wishing for finally came, but you didn’t feel the sour memory of dishonesty leave with the pleasure. The feelings of euphoria start to pass. Washing away from you like a tide being pulled in. The satisfaction swooshes away from you, leaving behind the mess that it had tried to cover. 
The clarity of the situation clouds back over you, still wondering about the unanswered questions. Feeling him take you was exactly what you wanted, but it still didn’t give you everything you needed. He did want your body, but it wasn’t clear whether he wanted you. He didn’t tell you the full truth or really answer anything. All he did was attempt to distract you so you’d shut up and forget the whole thing. 
The lust has quickly left your body and mistrust begins to consume you again. You try to engage with him after this moment, hoping that maybe the sex will have loosened him up. You walk over to him; he’s nursing a few sips of the remaining bourbon, trying to calm himself. His breathing is deep, exhausted. You reach out to him, and he grabs your hand to pull you towards him, wedging your legs between his. 
You reach out to move the hair out of his face, lightly brushing your fingers across his forehead, moving the airborne pieces back to their rightful place. A ritual of sorts for you two. You pat down his head, matting his hair back into shape. Trying to find the courage to speak again.  
“Jake…” You coo, “What was going on with you and Mariella?” 
He pulls his head away from your hand and looks at you with a disgusted expression.
“Nothing.” He replies, still in his dominant form. “You have to get over this.”
He had you where he wanted you. But you also had him cornered in a lie. You know if he can’t even tell you what happened, then he was hiding behind an excuse. The rage is starting to fill you again. Any progress that was made from your earlier fulfillment was gone, the envy was in full effect. You deserved the truth. Considering how much of yourself you’ve given to him; your body, your control, your thoughts… All of it belonged to him, and he couldn’t even amuse you with the truth. 
You pull away from his legs, scoffing, brewing with irritation. You wrap your hands around your face, trying to clasp onto the last bits of sanity that remained
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You throw your hands in the air towards him, “You can’t even answer that question? After I just did all of that for you?” 
“For me?” He scoffs, “You were the one getting worked up so I would do that to you!”
“No Jake, I wasn’t getting worked up so you would fuck me!”
Jake stands to assert himself again, “Sure seemed like it…”
“No, that’s not what that was. I didn’t want this to be the outcome, but after the fact, I was hoping that one little moment of intimacy would maybe compel you to tell me the fucking truth.”
“I don’t even know what else to tell you.” He sits back down on the stool, dismissing your worries, voiding his emotions. 
“Fuck this.” Tears stream down your eyes. “Fuck you, Jake! You lead me on, you make me feel important, and you can’t even do me the justice of telling me the fucking truth! I’m just an easy fuck for you huh? One of your little sluts you can toy and play with!” The anger is crescendoing, “Fuck you for making me feel this way!”
You swivel and turn to leave the bar. The tears stream over your eyes and your breath becomes ragged. Each step away from him feels like it takes forever. It feels like you’re walking away from the most important thing that’s happened to you. You’re walking away from the passion, from the beauty, from the sincerity. In just a few days Jake had made you feel like no other man had, he meant more to you than he probably even realized. He couldn’t even see how much of an impact he’s made on you, and judging by his reaction, maybe you’ve done nothing to him. Each step is a soft goodbye from a future with Jake, but it's also a goodbye to pure trouble. 
A loud shattering sound pops up behind you. You snap your neck to see the cause. Jake had smashed his drink; the amber liquid mixing in with the shards on the bar floor. Jake doesn't linger to see the mess he made, instead already heading out to the front door. The trail of glass stays put behind him. 
His anger pains you. His upset pains you even more. His reaction means that there was more to say, but you wouldn’t listen and he wouldn’t tell you. 
You run out the back door into the cold fall night. The breeze frosting the wet edges of your eyes. You feel so stupid, so dramatic. The whole world is imploding on your heart. 
He pulls you through the trail, practically tugging your wrist the whole way through. At this point, you’d wished that you put on better shoes, or maybe brought bug spray. Each step brings a crunch of fresh fallen leaves underneath your feet, clinging onto your fuzzy slippers. 
“Jake-” 
“Wait,” He says, pulling you harder through the brush. 
The trees get scarce, opening up to more sky. Before long, a field appears in front of you. The grass is tall, crisp, and dying, brushing past the legs of your sweats. The wind is blowing a soft chill breeze; the same autumn air that woke you on that Thursday morning and the same air that touched you Saturday night. 
He yanks you through, creating a path through the green. The ground is soft beneath your slippers; the damp dirt creates a light brown halo around the edges of your soles. Still being pulled by your wrist you try your best to keep up with his large strides through the grass. It feels like you are being waded through a pool of brush, slowly drowning through the field. He grabs at you harder and pulls you nearly off of your feet. 
“Jake!” You protest, yanking your arm back from his grip.
He turns to look at you. You grab your wrist and massage it, trying to ease the light red marks on your wrist. He looks bashful for a moment, seeing the dull pain he caused. He takes a deep breath and paces closer to you. 
“Yell.” He commands. 
You look up from your wrists a shoot him a confused look.
“What?!”
“What are you upset about?” 
“Jake,” You challenge, “I don’t want to do this right now, take me home.”
“I’m not taking you home yet. I asked what you’re upset about.”
You sigh and throw your hands down. You feel like a child whose parents just asked them to tell them about their feelings. This whole situation feels childish. “Jake I’m upset because I feel like I’m not the only one you're sleeping with and that makes me jealous.”
“Okay, and?”
You growl. Seeing him so calm again presents flashbacks to Saturday night. Tossing your stomach around like a punching bag. A welling of tears starts to present behind your eyes, but you try to breathe through it, “And!” You try to hold back the choking, but it's becoming visibly more noticeable, “And I’m mad about that because if something did happen, then you weren’t honest with me, and my friend wasn’t honest with me.”
He crosses his arms for a moment, watching you. It makes you feel uneasy when he does this, you feel insane; like he’s judging you for having real emotions. He gestures out into the field, “You’re mad at me, so yell.”
“Jake, I’m done yelling.” You admit defeat. “Can I go home now?”
“No.”
“Jake.” 
“If you’re done, then is it my turn to yell?” He asks. 
You fear for what he has to say. He could very easily make you look like an overdramatic woman, putting thoughts into your head, and making it all up. In some ways maybe you were, but you always knew when your gut was right and something was going on. If that’s really why he brought you here, then you definitely made the right decision to get out. 
You try to soften your tone and prevent any backlash from him, “Jake…”  
He takes in a deep breath and turns away from you to scream into the distance. His anger trailing with the wind, being carried away in a gust. It's a long and painful yell. Deep, full of frustration, and tension. He trails off, breaking his voice. The long note extinguishes with a sweep of the calling air.
He clears his throat and turns to you. 
“It's your turn now.”
“No!” You exclaim. 
You stand clenching your fists. You want to yell. You really do. You’re so angry about everything too. Angry for letting your lust get in the way of a real conversation. Angry that Mariella is somehow holding one over you. Angry that Jake couldn’t admit anything. Angry for telling yourself to stay away. Angry that you feel alone. Angry…
You rotate away from Jake and let out a gut-wrenching wail. Saturday night bubbles through you. 
“Fuck this.” Tears stream down your eyes. “Fuck you, Jake! You lead me on, you make me feel important, and you can’t even do me the justice of telling me the fucking truth! I’m just an easy fuck for you huh? One of your little sluts you can toy and play with!” The anger is crescendoing, “Fuck you for making me feel this way!”
Friday night surges through. 
“Yes,” He answers. He beams at you, letting you soak in his happiness, “Be good for me until then, okay?” He pulls you in for one last kiss. When he breaks away, he looks at you another moment before rubbing your cheek and turning away. 
Watching him leave is always depressing. This night confirms your feelings for Jake are far past just sexual. The promise of seeing him tomorrow is the only thing keeping you together. 
Thursday morning’s pain seeps out last. 
“Jake, stop!” you yell to him, scared he might actually leave. His hand is on the knob but he's not turning it. “Why didn’t you stay?” You finally asked it. 
Your anger for being alone is releasing itself. Your anger at Jake is releasing. He’s brought you here, he came for you. 
You let the cry echo through the field. The wind taking your sorrows away, cleaning your spirit with a bitter touch. You drop to your knees; just barely catching yourself with your hands. Jake walks over to you and puts his hand on your shoulder. He uses you as a crutch to lower himself next to you. 
“This is where I come when my bandmates piss me off,” He explains. You turn to look at him. Your head is clear, but your eyes are glossing over. “This is where I came Saturday night.”
You rest your hand on his knee, “I just wanted you to tell me the truth,” You cry. 
“I know,” He turns to meet your eyes, “You were right. It wasn’t nothing.” You pull your hand from his lap and turn further towards him to engage in his honesty. “Mariella and I did sleep together… Once….” He seems ashamed to admit the truth, “It was after my first week at the bar before I met you.”
“Oh.” You’re disappointed to hear the truth finally come out. You hoped deep down that something really never happened. You hoped that Jake hadn’t given into Mariella’s vixen-like nature. Jake looks down, embarrassed. 
“She wouldn’t leave me alone after that. She kept calling me and texting me. I played along for a little, trying to prevent things from being awkward... But then I met you,” He reaches for your hand, “And I knew I wasn’t ready for anything so I didn’t know what to do.” He passes his fingers over your hand. It's undeniable that he’s not used to being this vulnerable. His hands are warm and shaking slightly, “So I waited, and tried to keep Mariella quiet.”
He finally looks back up to you, an awkward and unsettled look flashing across his face. “Then the band really started to play more, and I knew the bar had their live music on Wednesdays… and I knew you always went. I asked Chris to let us play since he owed me anyway. He told me we could have that Wednesday and he let us take the time.
“When the night finally came, I hoped that you would still show up. I selfishly thought that maybe you only came in on Wednesdays to hang out with me, but I was proven wrong.” You laugh, knowing that he was far from the truth on that, “When I saw you at the bar, ugh. I finally had to take you home that night. I could see the way you were looking at me and I just knew I had to do something about it. I’m not the kind of guy who likes waiting.”
 “For someone who doesn’t like waiting, you sure seem to drag a lot of unwanted stuff out,” You blurt.
He sits there for a moment gritting his teeth through an embarrassed expression. “Fair point… You really knocked me off my game. As soon as I figured out you had a thing for me, I got all weird.”
You blush, hearing him talk about you like this is new and different; the kind of Jake you can trust. You play with him a little to lighten the mood, “How could you possibly figure out that I liked you?”
“It was quite obvious. Do you realize how bad of a staring problem you have?” He jokes.
You gawk at him, stunned by the truth, and push his arm. “Shut up!” You feel the color rising in your cheeks. 
He laughs and his usual Jake smirk splays across his face. It felt good to see him smile like that again. 
“I just knew that night, things would be different. I didn’t want to stay because I wasn’t sure if I was ready for it all at once- I’m still not sure if I am. But I felt even more guilty laying in your bed that night because I knew Mariella still wanted something from me too. I didn’t want to give you too much before closing that off completely. I didn’t want her to get any ideas. She already knew we went home together that night and was pissed.”
“She should be fucking jealous,” You joke, nudging him.
He laughs, and smiles smugly, “She was, trust me…” He looks up to the sky, “I told her I would talk to her Friday night,” He looks back at you, “Before you got all horny and texted me.”
“Oh my god!” You playfully push him again. 
He laughs again, squeezing your hand harder, “Trust me if I didn’t have to go tell her off, I would’ve been there with you all night… I saw that puzzle in your kitchen and it was killing me to not finish it.” 
You smile at him. Thinking about a domesticated form of Jake makes your heart warm. A possibility. “That puzzle still isn’t done.”
“Perfect.” He pulls you into his lap. Holding you softly, resting his arms over the tops of your thighs, “But before we do that puzzle, I have to tell you the rest of my story, okay?”
“Okay.”
He holds the side of your face to turn it to his. “I told her that I wanted you. Okay? She’s jealous that I chose you… Did you hear that? I chose you, okay?”
Your heart is finally lifting out of the hole. The dirt that you once sat in was growing fields of flowers, healing you. He’s lifting you out of the hole, stretching out his hand to grab you, closing the gap. “Okay…”
“I’m not saying I’m ready to be your perfect happy sweet boyfriend or whatever, okay? But there is no one else, and I’m sorry if you thought that.”
I’m sorry. The words you had been craving. He was owning up. It felt like a massive bandage across your heart. He might not be able to give you everything you needed, but this was becoming a fairytale. Sitting in this field with him was serene, healing, natural… 
It was your turn to apologize next. 
“I’m sorry for yelling at you. I should have trusted you.” You melt into his shoulder. 
“I shouldn’t have been such an asshole… Oh, and don’t worry, I’ll get you back for the yelling.” 
The sun is starting to set around you. This moment is pure bliss. It's soul-cleansing. He’s brought you to a space of his own, cleared his mind with you, cleared his conscience. It felt good to forgive him. 
“Do you want to come over to my place?” He asks, rubbing your shoulder. 
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anonymousewrites · 6 months
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One Hell of a Love (Book 1.5) Chapter Sixteen
Sebastian Michaelis x Demon! Reader
Chapter Sixteen: One Hell of a Dance
Summary: (Y/N), Claude, and Sebastian battle while Alois and Ciel duel.
            Claude stood a ways away from (Y/N) and Sebastian, Hannah beside him. She, however, was already “disqualified” from the dance due to being beaten by (Y/N). That didn’t mean Claude didn’t have a use for her, though.
            He took his glasses off. With one hand, he pulled Hannah to his side, and the demoness gasped and trembled.
            (Y/N) cocked their head. They still felt like Hannah had some power that she was, for some reason, keeping quiet in exchange for…what? Being hurt and used by Claude and Alois? Either way, (Y/N) could see through it. They understood the way non-masc people used power. They kept it hidden before striking so no one could attempt to take it away. That was what they saw with Hannah.
            But they had no time to focus on that. Claude was the immediate threat to them, Ciel, and, most importantly to (Y/N), Sebastian.
            Claude pulled his glove from his hand with his teeth. He tipped Hannah’s face towards him.
            “Claude…” she whispered, closing her eyes and bracing herself.
            Claude’s fingers pushed into Hannah’s mouth. For a moment, his eyes went to (Y/N), and his fingers pressed against the back of Hannah’s mouth, causing her to gag. It was a sexual motion, and (Y/N)’s eyes narrowed in disgust and distaste. Sebastian’s eyes flashed with anger as Claude’s gaze once again traced over (Y/N).
            He would gauge them from Claude’s head.
            Claude finally turned his head to focus on Hannah. His hand moved down her throat until he grasped something and pulled it out. Hannah coughed and collapsed to her knees. Claude held the sword he’d pulled from its sheath in his head. It was a deep blue-green, jagged and twisted, not a weapon of human design.
            Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “Oh, what do we have here?”
            (Y/N) glanced at him. “What is it?”
            “An ancient, mystical sword, clad in eternal darkness: Laevateinn,” said Sebastian. “I did not expect him to possess such a blade.”
            Claude brandished Laevateinn. “I simply thought I would pay due respect since you occasioned this ball. Well, then, let us commence the Danse Macabre.”
            Claude ran at (Y/N) and Sebastian. He stabbed at Sebastian, but the raven demon grabbed the flats of the blade and guided it away from him. (Y/N) jumped behind Claude and attacked, but Claude stumbled forward, reoriented himself, and swung at (Y/N). They flipped backwards while Sebastian raised two knives to block the sword. The silver knives were cut in half but Laevateinn, however. Sebastian dodged back beside (Y/N) as they glanced at each other and reassessed their strategy.
            Claude attack again, and Sebastian and (Y/N) dodged again. They danced across the chess board; Sebastian and (Y/N) retaliating but being forced to back off as the arc of the blade came to close to cutting skin.
            On the terrace, Ciel and Alois rose and walked into the mansion. The nobles would face each other while the servants did. Sebastian and Claude’s eyes met. This could be it. Neither would back down now.
            Laevateinn smashed into the ground beside Sebastian as he watched Ciel leave carefully, and (Y/N) pulled him aside. As they reached out though, they hissed as a thin thread sliced through their hand. Their eyes widened, and Sebastian’s eyes narrowed.
            “It seems you were a bit too concerned for yourselves and the Young Lord,” said Claude. “You seem to have lost concentration.”
            Sebastian’s cheek was slit open, and drops of blood fell to the floor. Another thread was stretched taught around him. “Ah. When did that happen?” All around him and (Y/N), threads thin enough that only demons could see and manipulate them, sharp enough to cut flesh, kept them in place.
            “Damn,” muttered (Y/N). They had been too worried about keeping Sebastian safe to care for themself, and now both were stuck in the spider’s web.
            Claude jumped onto a thread and walked towards the demons. The webs tightened, cutting into the pair more. “The spider threads of the Trancy family are able to cut the steel. If you move, your head will fly off.” He smirked. He couldn’t help but lick his lips at the sight of (Y/N) trapped by his threads, utterly at his mercy. Blood dripped from their head, ruby red and tantalizing.
            “As expected of the Spider’s butler,” said Sebastian, no kindness in his words as he narrowed his eyes upon seeing Claude’s lustful gaze.
            Claude reached out towards (Y/N), and their eyes flashed fuchsia. Sebastian could see a bit of their demon form swirl into existence, their nails sharpening into claws. They weren’t to be so easily tamed by some webs.
            “So beautiful…” he murmured. “I knew you’d look sublime restrained…”
            “I don’t take compliments from spiders,” hissed (Y/N) in disgust.
            Claude’s gloved hand brushed against (Y/N)’s cheek, and they struck up. Before their claws made contact with him, though, not caring for the various threads cutting into their skin as they moved, Claude’s hand withdrew, and he straightened. Sebastian’s narrowed eyes, bright fuchsia at the sight of Claude near (Y/N), moved towards the mansion.
            Alois and Ciel were battling within. The two were bleeding, and the demons could sense it. Claude moved quickly, slicing through the webs to create a path for himself to run to mansion. No matter who was dying, he needed to be there. He needed the souls.
            Sebastian and (Y/N) extracted themselves from the threads. Sebastian couldn’t help but reach to (Y/N) to pull them through the webs without getting injured. His hands rested on them but a moment before retracing as they raced into the mansion.
            (Y/N), Sebastian, and Claude threw open the library doors.
            “Young Master/Your Highness!” cried Claude and Sebastian.
            Ciel lay on his back on the ground, and on top of them, Alois was gasping for air as Ciel’s sword stabbed into his side, blood seeping from the wound. Alois fell back, allowing Ciel to sit up, and clutched his wound.
            “That hurts!” cried Alois in pain, curling into his side on the ground. “Help me! Help me, Claude!”
            “Yes, your High—.” Claude started towards Alois, and Sebastian moved to help Ciel.
            “Stop there, Sebastian!” ordered Ciel. His eyes were furiously wild. “Don’t approach before I’ve killed him!” His soul was finding its revenge once more, and the demons froze in awe.
            “Of course.” Sebastian bowed his head and smirked.
            Ciel stood over Alois, sword at his side. “Die, Alois Trancy,” he said.
            “No! I don’t want to die!” Tears streamed down Alois’s face. “It hurts…Help me, Ciel…”
            (Y/N) almost (almost) pitied the boy. Claude had willingly given evidence that he was the focus of Ciel’s revenge. But (Y/N) had no room for pity for a human who went looking for a battle and lost it.
            “You’re disgracing yourself, Alois!” said Ciel. “How dare you, after killing my parents!”
            “You don’t understand anything!” cried Alois helplessly. “The demon at your side is deceiving you!”
            Yes, but yours is far more deceptive and traitorous, yet you are unwilling to see it, thought (Y/N).
            “Demon?” murmured Ciel.
            “My parents were killed, too,” sobbed Alois. “My precious family was burnt to death, along with my village. I was robbed of what was important to me. We are the same! I swear, I won’t haunt you anymore!” He was begging, crying. “I will apologize for everything! Just, please, spare my life!”
            Ciel raised his sword. All his soul burned for was revenge, pure and bright. “You soiled my pride. You will atone for your sins with your life!”
            “Help me, Claude!” cried Alois.
            Ciel plunged the sword down, and Claude moved to grab him. He grabbed the sword, but before he could reach for Ciel himself, (Y/N) was between them, pushing Ciel behind them as their catlike eyes pierced into Claude. Sebastian had been ordered not to move, but (Y/N) had no orders they had to follow. Claude surged forward, and (Y/N) pushed Ciel to Sebastian, who grabbed him protectively. Claude’s hands grabbed (Y/N), and they pushed him back, slapping him across the face, claws raking across his skin, the blood from their cuts splattering across his skin. (Y/N) shoved away from Claude, retreating to Sebastian and Ciel.
            A drop of blood dripped to his lip, and Claude licked it. His eyes turned fuchsia, and his mouth fell open in shock.
            Sebastian’s eyes widened as he saw Claude’s expression. (Y/N)’s blood. He had tasted (Y/N)’s blood and looked like that. Whatever obsession he currently held for owning (Y/N) had just deepened. It was clear on Claude’s face.
            “Alois Trancy!” Ciel nearly roared in anger, trying to get out of Sebastian’s grip to attack the boy at his butler’s feet. He groaned suddenly as his own bound ached and fell limper.
            “I cannot allow you to consider the dance in this condition,” said Sebastian. He glared at Claude. “I’m sorry, but we are leaving now.” His eyes narrowed as Claude didn’t respond, still staring, wide-eyed, into space. “Mr. Claude?”
            (Y/N) stepped closer to Sebastian. They could fight for themself, but it didn’t change that they felt slightly…safer beside the demon they loved.
            “Ah…yes,” said Claude slowly. “We will continue this ball some other day.”
            “Then we shall take our leave,” said (Y/N), keeping a watchful eye on the spider demon as Sebastian picked up Ciel.
            “You snuck off on your own and were injured. I must say, you are quite an unruly Young Master,” said Sebastian, trying to lighten Ciel’s mood and keep calm as they left the room. He wished he had more than two hands so that he could also pull (Y/N) close to keep Claude from them. The possessive itch had returned, and he was extraordinarily satisfied when the doors of the Trancy mansion slammed closed behind him.
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            “Claude…what are you staring at?” sobbed Alois from the floor, looking at his butler, whose gaze was still glued to the door. He lifted a bloody hand. “Look, I was stabbed in the stomach! Help me, quick!”
            Claude didn’t move, still frozen. He pulled a glove from his hand, shaking in excitement.
            “Hoheotararuna ronderotareru! Hoheotararuna ronderotareru! Hoheotararuna rondero—” Alois spluttered and threw up blood. He gazed up at Claude, whose eyes slid to him for but a moment. “You have the eyes of someone who’s looking at maggots crawling on a fresh turd…” He collapsed.
            Claude didn’t spare Alois a look as he traced his bare hand over the blood (Y/N) had left behind on him. He gazed at the scarlet on his fingers. Reverently, he licked the blood.
            He nearly moaned at the taste.
            It was like liquid power. Magic thrummed in (Y/N)’s blood. (Y/N)’s blood was pure as a human soul’s. It whispered of a mortal life ending in revenge, in power. It betrayed the way (Y/N) took contracts that served their own, slight, morals of revenge upon those who abuse others and tipping the scale of power in the favor of those to whom it has been denied.
            It was exquisite. It was intoxicating. It was addicting.
            Claude wanted more. He needed more. He needed (Y/N) on their knees before him, ready to serve him, ready to allow him to slice their skin open to get to more of that delicious blood, the pure power of Hell and vengeful magic that coursed through their veins.
            Claude would make (Y/N) scream—in pain or pleasure. Whatever he desired.
l
            (Y/N) watched as their wounds from the threads healed. It had taken a little bit longer than usual since another immortal had used their weapons to hurt them, but with the lack of severity and time since the fight, the cuts were finally sealing.
            “(Y/N)?” Sebastian knocked softly on the door.
            (Y/N) stood and opened the door. “How is the Young Master?”
            “He is frustrated but will recover,” said Sebastian. “He is resting due to his own injuries.” His eyes scanned over the cuts in (Y/N)’s clothes and skin. “I see your own are finally healing.”
            “Yes. Don’t worry, I’ll have the uniform mended in a moment, and I’ll be clean and presentable for tomorrow,” said (Y/N).
            Sebastian stepped inside. He held a cloth and a bowl of water in one hand. “Will you…allow me to help you?”
            (Y/N) blinked, surprised. “Help me?” Their heart burned happily. Sebastian wanted to help them. “If it is no problem.”
            “It is none,” said Sebastian. He set the bowl down on the vanity, and (Y/N) sat down.
            Sebastian felt his anger at Claude rise again as he saw (Y/N)’s blood still staining their skin. He couldn’t wait to have a chance to rip Claude apart. Sebastian already avoided most demons, none were as respectable as (Y/N) in his opinion, but it was unusual even for him to wish harm on another. However, Claude had crossed too many lines, desired too much that was Sebastian’s (Y/N) wasn’t Sebastian’s and he didn’t like it but he knew they weren’t his. Sebastian wanted to destroy him.
            But now was not the time for anger. This was an opportunity for Sebastian to show he cared to be near (Y/N) to touch them to show them he desired them when would they see how deeply he wanted them he loved them.
            Sebastian soaked the cloth in water and took (Y/N)’s arm. His heart thrummed with nonexistent life at how much trust was reflected in (Y/N)’s eyes as they allowed him to touch them. They didn’t like touch, and yet they willingly sat before him and allowed him to wash the blood from their arms.
            (Y/N) watched Sebastian’s calm movements. Their undead heart thrummed as they felt his ungloved hands trace their arm. Skin against skin—they felt safe in his touch. He had always made them feel strong and secure. Dear Satan how they loved him and his touch and his respect and his honor and everything that made him Sebastian.
            “May I?”
            Sebastian didn’t want to ruin the calm and the trust (Y/N) had in him. He had washed their arms, so the only place left to clear of blood was their face. For one of the only times in his life, Sebastian wanted to ensure he didn’t go too far. He wanted to touch them in any small or gentle way, but he refused to cross (Y/N)’s boundaries. He couldn’t lose them not (Y/N) he couldn’t he couldn’t.
            “You may.”
            (Y/N) didn’t fear Sebastian’s touch. They wanted it. They wanted him to come closer. There was no warmth from his skin as he pressed the wet cloth to their cheek to wash the blood, but that didn’t change the pleasant tingle that his touch left on them. (Y/N) could have purred or pressed closer if they had less pride.
            For a moment as the last of the blood was washed away, Sebastian’s hand lingered on (Y/N)’s cheek. So many words whirled in both demons’ heads—thoughts, desires, promises—but neither spoke.
            Sebastian stood, withdrawing his hand. “Thank you for assisting in the dance today. You have no need to remain, no contract or duty, but you fought by my side. Thank you.”
            (Y/N) smiled. “Sebastian, we are friends. You know that I would not leave you on your own. Not against someone like Claude.”
            A soft smile appeared on Sebastian’s lips. “No, you would not.” He leaned forward. “And you know I would not abandon you.” For a moment, his hand flitted out and cupped their chin. “As you said, we are friends, so if you are ever in need, I will repay your loyalty in kind.”
            Then he stood and left the room, leaving both demons with a burning sensation in their skin and a strange rush of happiness, a feeling ever-so-evasive of demons, in their veins.
            (Y/N) traced their cheek where he touched them. So gentle…(Y/N) enjoyed it. But they did imagine what he could be like rougher in other…situations.
l
            Sebastian placed his cloth and bowl down in the kitchen, about to clean them, when he noticed a bit of blood resting on his fingertips. (Y/N)’s blood. He stared at it. He hesitated. He wanted to taste wanted to taste (Y/N) in every way but he didn’t want to be Claude, uncontrollable and a lecherous fiend.
            But Sebastian was no Claude. He knew that.
            His tongue flicked out as he tasted (Y/N)’s blood. Magic and Hell liquified poured onto his tastebuds, as fine as any soul. A part of Sebastian considered what this meant for Claude, how obsessive he’d become now at the addictive taste of (Y/N)’s blood, their essence, the closest thing to a human soul as a demon could have.
            But the other part of Sebastian delighted in the taste. Everything a demon craved—magic and power, the purity of a soul complete before death, vengeance and death—it all poured into (Y/N)’s blood.
            (Y/N) was sin and Hell incarnate, as worthy as any demon born from Hellfire, stronger for having lived a human life and died a human death.
            And Sebastian loved them.
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tsireyasyawntu · 10 months
Text
heart to heart
ahsoka tano x fem! reader
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as your eyes landed on the landing ship in your yard, you instantly knew it was Ahsoka who had returned.
A smile spread on your lips as you put down your towel, quickly taking off your floured apron and placing it on your counter.
You rushed out the door, excited to see her; but all happiness drained from you when you saw the look on her face.
she was.. destroyed . heartbroken. betrayed and.. so, so much more.
Instantly, your smile fell and you began to slowly walk to her. She looked up, her eyes catching yours as she began to walk towards you, but not to you.
Her smell breezed through your senses as she passed by you, sending you an apologetic glance in the midst.
You quickly turned after her, walking behind her and into the house, silently watching as she stare into the void as she took a seat on the couch.
eventually you did the same, not too close yet not too far. Your hand covered hers hesitantly, and she returned the favor by lacing her fingers with yours- but she was trembling.
your heart fell, shattering into a thousand small pieces of sadness as you wish you could take the pain she felt away from her.
“Ahsoka..” you whispered softly, frowning at the fact she could no longer meet your eye.
you knew about her Jedi past. Not much, truthfully, but you knew some. How her Master was a very kind person, dedicated and determined, but caring and silly. You did not know his name. You knew she had left the Jedi order as a Padawan, you did not know why though. She had told you about the Rebels she had been helping, but you knew no names.
You understand that she was still healing from everything she had endured. Wounds take time, and sometimes they take lifetimes.
“He…” ahsoka’s voice trembled, her eyes staring beyond the reality of the physical world. hurt, anger, betrayal, sadness.. every emotion in her eyes was present, yet only five truly showed themselves.
You scooted closer to her as you gently added your other hand atop the one laced with hers, gently squeezing.
it’s okay.
you didn’t need to say those words for her to understand. She let a deep, sad sigh escape her lips as she squeezed your hand back.
“My.. Master, He..” You could tell it was extraordinarily difficult for her to talk about him— and you wondered, is it only difficult to talk about him around you?
“He’s Vader.. He.. he turned to the dark side..” she whispered lowly, so low that if you hadn’t scooted closer, you wouldn’t have been able to hear it.
your heart fell once more, plummeting to the bottom of your stomach. You wanted to comfort her, to be with her; emotionally, but you had no Idea where to start.
“I had to fight him, he tried to kill me— he.. he wasn’t my Master, he wasn’t Anakin Skywalker. I.. don’t know who that was.” by the trembling in her voice, you discovered she had so much more hidden pain than she said; although, you had guessed as much. You let silence follow for a moment before you gently, and lovingly, placing a kiss to her cheek.
“I’m so sorry Ahsoka,” you whispered, tracing patters on her hand. “I’m so sorry.”
she didn’t cry, but some small, stray tears had left her eyes upon the reminisce of him.
“I left the order.. I couldn’t save him— if only I hadn’t left, He..”
You felt the regret within her, and you couldn’t take it.
Squeezing her hand once again before bringing it to your lips, you began to speak.
“Ahsoka, It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have stopped him from the decision he made. It was his choice, and you made yours, my love.” you said to her, watching as her eyes flashed with sadness again and again, recalling the same moment on loop.
You couldn’t truly help her, and you wished, by every single living force in the galaxy, you could.
“Would you.. like to rest with me?” you question softly, watching as she hesitated for a moment before accepting. You stood, and she did as well. Both of you made your way to the bedroom. You slowly say her down, about to go around when she caught your arm. Not daring to meet your eye, she dragged you to her. Resting beside her, face tucked into her shoulder and she buried her head into your neck desperately, wrapping her and around your waist.
Silence followed for a moment, and you could feel every time she opened and closed her mouth— debating if to speak or not.
“I.. I’m sorry I never told you much about my past.” she says, sadly. You only stroke her Montrals, “Don’t apologize. It’s your past, your memories. not mine. I’m here to listen if you would ever like to continue, and i’m here to listen if you aren’t.”
ahsoka always knew you had the perfect words to say. It was strange, how good you were with them. You always brought her relief, and piece of mind. Happiness, Joy and.. so much love.
A shaky sigh left her, saddened yet.. content. She loved when you laid in her arms— caressing her softly.
“My Master was Anakin Skywalker. He wasn’t just my master, but.. My friend, who was by me always— even when I decided to leave the order.” She stopped waiting a moment and letting herself nourish in your love.
“When I left the order, I went to the lower levels of coruscant. It was strange, being around all those people. But.. eventually, I had to go back. I was relived to see him well, two years later and he still had his classic smile. I..” you kissed her neck softly, nuzzling your nose against her.
“I didn’t want to catch up with him. I didn’t know that would be the last time I saw him. I didn’t know what he’d become.” She says, and you could tell she was scared.
“Anakin Skywalker is dead, and he was killed by the dark side.” Those words hurt even you, sadness instantly flooded you as you felt her hiccup, a drop of heartbreak soaking into your shirt.
“I also have been helping Rebels; two of them Jedi. I didn’t mean to get sucked into fighting darth vader, i didn’t want to see that side of anakin. I.. didn’t want to leave you.” she hugged you tighter, the grip she had on your waist increasing.
you kissed her again, and again and again, reassurance in each moment your lips touched her body.
“I’m sorry for everything.”
at that, you pulled back to look her in her blue eyes, searching for any type of lie.
“Don’t apologize, Ahsoka. You’ve done absolutely nothing wrong. please don’t think you did.” you say, quickly going in for a tight hug.
She returned it, placing her head where it was just a moment ago.
“I love you, so much.” she whispered into your neck, her voice sending vibrations.
“I love you more, no matter what. I will love you always.”
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gyudior · 7 months
Note
hi! new follower here and i love love love your work!! can iii request angst prompts 4 and 18 for kai? 🥹 hope you have a great week!
-🍥
Heart+Breaker
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⤑ pairing: kai / kim jongin x cheater!reader ⤑ genre: angst, break up au, non-idol au ⤑ prompt: 4. "If lies keep spewing from those lips, then I'm walking out that door." + 18. "I'm never going to be good enough for you, am I?" ⤑ warnings: cheating (we strongly do not tolerate cheating in this household ヽ(`⌒´メ)ノ) ⤑ word count: 0.8k
a/n: omg hiii anon! i'm very thankful for your support hehe~ i hope you like this even if it hurts (ಥ_ಥ)
Your heart raced as you stood in the doorway, frozen in the act of betrayal. The room was heavy with silence, broken only by the ragged breaths of the man you had promised to love and cherish—Jongin.
Your eyes, filled with guilt and regret, met Jongin's gaze, which was a turbulent sea of emotions. He had come home early that day, a surprise visit he had intended to be a romantic surprise. But it was you who was caught off guard, tangled in the arms of another man, your eyes locked with his in a moment of sheer panic.
Jongin's voice shattered the stillness. "___," he said, his tone as cold as ice, "what the hell is going on here?"
You felt your heart tighten, chest constricting with the weight of your mistakes. You had foolishly thought you could keep your secret hidden forever, that your actions wouldn't catch up to you, but now the truth had torn through the façade you had built.
You struggled to find words as you felt your throat tighten with guilt and shame. "Jongin, it's not what you think."
The other man, a stranger in their sacred space, hurriedly dressed, embarrassment etched on his face. Without a word, he made his hasty exit, leaving you to face the storm that was brewing in Jongin's eyes.
Jongin's anger was palpable as he glared at you. "Don't you dare lie to me."
"Jongin, please," you pleaded, your voice shaky. "I made a terrible mistake but I promise it meant nothing!"
His face twisted with pain and disbelief. He had never expected betrayal from the woman he had loved with all his heart. "How could you? How could you do this to me?"
Your eyes welled up with tears as you swallowed hard. You reached out to touch Jongin's arm but he recoiled as if your touch burned. "I never meant for this to happen," you whispered, voice breaking. "Please, give me a chance to make it right."
He clenched his fists, his jaw tight with fury. "If lies keep spewing from those lips, then I'm walking out that door." His voice was laced with bitterness, words sharp and unforgiving.
You took a tentative step closer to him as your voice quivered with desperation. "Jongin, please, just hear me out. It was a mis—"
"Don't," he cut you off, his expression remained unmoved, "I don't want to hear any of it."
Your heart sank as you watched him turn away, your words falling on deaf ears. You had hoped that Jongin would give you a chance to explain your actions, make him understand, but the depth of your deception had left wounds so deep that it might never heal.
His footsteps were heavy as he made his way to the door. The panic that surged through you made you rush after him, grabbing onto his arm desperately.
"Jongin, please, don't go," you pleaded. "I love you! I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make things right."
He turned to face you, his eyes filled with hurt and betrayal. "Love? You don't cheat on someone you love, ___!" Jongin ran a frustrated hand through his hair as tears started to roll down his cheeks, "I loved you with everything I had, I gave you all of me, and I trusted you with my heart... yet you broke it so easily."
You sank down to your knees before him, tears streaming down your face. You had destroyed the most precious thing in your life, all because of your selfishness, and now, there was no way to turn back time.
"I'm so sorry, Jongin. I wish I could take it all back."
Fat tears continued to stream down your cheeks as you realized the depth of the damage you had done.
"I'm never going to be good enough for you, am I?" Jongin's voice cracked with vulnerability, dripping with sadness at the heartbreak and, most especially, your betrayal.
You stuggled to find your voice, an aswer, the words you wanted to say suddenly caught in your throat. Your silence hung in the air like a final verdict.
A sigh of resignation broke your trance, your racing thoughts abruptly coming to a halt. "You know," Jongin trails off, "I once thought that you were the love of my life, the one I wanted to spend forever with. But now I realize... I was utterly mistaken."
As you wept on the floor, Jongin's resolve remained unshaken. He had been pushed to his limits and the pain was just too much to bear.
"I'm sorry, Jongin. I... I'm just so sorry," you brokenly sob out, your words barely intelligible.
Your heart shattered as you helplessly watched him walk away, each step taking him farther away from the monster that you had become.
You made the gravest mistake of your life and you knew that you lost the love of your life in the process. Your mistakes had cost you everything and now you had to face the consequences of your actions alone.
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harringtons-cupid · 1 year
Text
In love with a criminal- Steve Harrington X reader
3
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➻w.c. 5.4k
➻Warnings 18+: Physical violence, slight angst, slight emotional abuse, office sex, 69, bed humping, female masturbation, skin scratching, cum eating, squirting, spanking, public touching. Findom.
➻Tagged:  @bisexual-byers @urlbitchin@sweet-villain @oo0lady-mad0oo @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @harrys-four-nipples @hellfiremunsonn @luna-munson83 @urlbitchin @joejoequinnquinn @roguemetalmaster13 @hellfiremunsonn
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He was right, you knew he hated Billy. They had only fought once, your fears of Steve hurting Billy was something you cursed yourself for everytime they were around each other.  
“Okay, well he found the clothes that you bought me today and he asked where I got them from. So I lied, I think he knew that because he started to get aggressive with me’’ you sighed, more tears falling down your face as you revealed the obvious red marks around your neck.
Steve’s body language changed instantly, falling down onto the sofa as he pounced up at once and disappearing upstairs. Calling out his name in desperation until he reappeared with his infamous wooden bat in his hands. 
Not listening to you as he marched towards his maroon BMW, turning back and grabbing your face tightly. Roughly kissing your lips before getting inside. 
‘’Do not move’’ he growled at you, his eyes were dark and angry. 
You stood on his doorstep in tears as you watched him drive off, dropping dramatically to your knees in tears once the door was closed behind you. Pacing around the lower floor of his house, constantly thinking about where he was and whether he was hurting Billy. 
Your feelings for Billy were still at some level of romantic interest, he was still your boyfriend but you knew something had changed since your close encounters with Steve Harrington. 
The moment you disappeared from view, Steve’s angry emotions intensified. Loud aggressive music was blasting into the car, his wooden bat was sat in the passenger seat along with the small black bag that contained a few of favourite items.  A gun, your ‘Sweetheart’ knife, a pack of cigarettes, a black balaclava and a recently procured red lacy thong of yours. 
As he entered town, he slowed the car down avoiding the focused gaze of the feds. Since his recent incarection, the feds had been watching his every move. The recent robbery that you had slightly partook in was luckily hidden from the feds but as he grew closer to Billy’s second place of work, he noticed that the feds had disappeared from his view. 
Glancing at the bat in his passenger seat, he knocked it on the floor beneath the seat and grabbed his black bag. Slinging it around his shoulder before leaving the car hidden from the building, he wanted to avoid being caught at any cost. 
As well as being a lifeguard doing the daytime and weekends, Billy wanted to any chance to be away from home and so he got another job. This role was different to the Lifeguard job, he was required to work late which resulted in you spending more time with Steve than Billy. 
Billy didn’t tell you much but as Steve stood inside, music blared loudly into his ear he felt like laughing. 
He was a male stripper. 
Billy happened to be on his break out the back when Steve shouted to the bartender that he was friends with you, Billy had spoken about you throughout the club. They were also in deep with Steve,  this was not the place that Steve worked out of but many of the staff and customers were his. This meant that if Steve touched Billy whilst at work, none of the staff had the nerve to grass him up. 
His reputation was known throughout town and if people weren’t in bed with him they reported him. 
Billy was finishing his cigarette when Steve burst through the fire exit into the courtyard, startling him slightly. Instantly feelings of anger flowed through the veins of both men, their mutual hatred was showing as Billy took a swing at Steve. Grazing his nose before Steve grabbed his fist and swung it around his body twisting his arm, kicking him in the shins. As he fell to his knees in pain, Steve bent down meeting his face with his and smiled at him. 
“If you ever lay your hands on her again like that, I won’t hesitate to hurt you anymore” Steve whispered into his ear, his hands squeezing Billy’s throat as he spoke. 
Billy opened his mouth to speak but instead he spat heavily in Steve’s face, letting go of his throat Steve moved away quickly. Kicking his side before walking back through the noisy club, he nodded his head at the bartender before running towards his car. 
Steve wiped the little blood from Billy’s nose from his face as he walked into the dark and colourful tattoo parlor. A regular at this tattoo parlor, he had gained small tattoos on his body over the years, you would kiss them at any chance you could. Chatting to the artist for a few moments before the needle began pressing into his skin, gasping from the slight irritation of the needle Steve lay there and thought of you. 
Billy had no tattoos, he would always try to convince you had the tiny dot on his thigh from where the tattoo artist had started to make a design before he chickened out. But it was nothing compared to Steve. 
Listening to the repetitive advice from the tattoo artist, he slipped an extra twenty dollars into their pocket before disappearing into his car. His mind fell to you again, his black bag had fallen onto the floor with the wooden bat as he sped through town. 
It had gotten dark when his car pulled into the driveway of his house, you practically rushed to the doorway. Checking his body for marks, his eyes were dark and misty but as they met yours they softened. 
‘’What happened? How is Billy? Is he hurt?’’ your voice was fast and mumbling, the panic in your eyes made him freeze. 
Sighing, he shrugged and walked past you. Taking the black bag and his bat upstairs, lifting up the broken wooden panel under his bed and placing them inside. You followed him, still pestering with questions about Billy. 
“Sweetheart, I’m going to be honest with you. He is slightly hurt but I told him not to touch you like that again’’ sighing, his eyes softened once more. 
His arms rubbed yours hard as you stared at your feet, taking in the information about Billy. Your mind wandered with scenes of how beat up Billy was, biting your lip as you looked at Steve again. 
“But is he bad?” your voice shook as tears spilled out onto your cheeks. 
“Look, i’m no doctor but he probably has a few bruises, maybe a broken arm” he winced as you hugged him tightly. 
Looking concerned, your eyebrows knitted together as you lifted up his black hoodie to expose the plastic coating over his new tattoo. You didn’t know about the tradition of getting a tattoo after every fight, this tattoo he was nervous about. 
Your fingers grazed the outer layer of the tattoo, your eyes squinting to figure out the design and looking up at him for some form of answer. 
“It’s a heart” his cheeks flushed red as he stuttered with a smile. 
“What for?” the tears in your eyes had cleared as you gazed at the tattoo with curiosity, completely unaware who it was for. 
“For you” he whispered, pushing your body into his. Trying to hide his embarrassment with a hug, you gasped pulling yourself out of the hug as your eyes scanned his face. 
Smiling at him with giddy feelings, trying to register it. Your eyes flickered between him and the tattoo, grabbing his face and kissing him hard. He moved you onto his bed as he kissed you, his body weight on top of you as your legs slid perfectly around his waist. 
His body pressed against yours as your hips began to move, gasping into his mouth from the friction. Your clit twitching as his pelvic bone hit against it, his cock growing more uncomfortable with every movement. 
Your hands slid down to his trousers, pulling them eagerly off him to expose his throbbing cock close to your mouth. Practically salivating at the sight of it, you aligned your face closer and closer until his tip grazed your lips. 
He groaned in pleasure as pre cum leaked between your lips and into your mouth, slowly taking his tip and seductively sucking. Your tongue moving between his folds as your eyes looked up at him. 
All your mind could think of was the tattoo he got for you, the power of making him feel how you felt was driving you as gradually took every inch into your mouth. 
Watching him twitch as your hands cupped his balls, his hips were angled into your mouth. His head tipped back as his hand gripped into your hair, guiding his cock in and out your mouth. 
Humming as you moved your body out onto the bed, wiggling your ass into the air and catching his eye once more. Your hands stroked his cock as you pinched your cheeks together, making your mouth hole tighter and tighter around his cock. 
Your clit throbbing against his mattress as you slowed your pace down, his body practically begged for faster movements. 
“This feels so good Sweetheart, would you do something for me?” He whined, his eyes rolling back as your tongue circled his tip. 
Nodding at him as the vibration of the word “yes” rippled across his cock, his hands pulled harder on your hair at the sensation. 
“Grind, that wet cunt against the bed for me? Can you be a good girl for me?” He growled at you, his voice was deeper than usual. 
You did as you were told, the material grinding against your clit felt incredible. Your moans were hot and heavy on his cock, producing more saliva that dripped out your mouth and onto the bed. 
His eyes watched you as your hips moved quicker and quicker onto his bed, his eyes closing tightly as you felt him twitch. 
He was close, knowing this you sped up on the bed. The sounds of the bed hitting the wall from your cunt made him moan louder. 
Rubbing your wetness all over his bed covers with the sensation of his cock hitting the back of your throat made him cum hard. 
You swallowed every bit of cum that he produced, your hips still grinding against the mattress. His hands pressed onto your cheeks as he forced your clit against the material, making your legs shake from the sensation. 
Giving you no choice but to pleasure yourself, your moans turned into gasps as you grew closer and closer to your orgasm. Your jaw ached from his cock but as his nails dug into your cheeks, you forgot that pain. 
Your legs twitched as you felt yourself cum hard over his bed covers, continuing to rub yourself with Steve’s help against the material until you came for a second time. 
Rolling over you sighed happily, Steve spread your legs apart and buried his head between them. Licking every last bit of your cum off your cunt and into his mouth, your legs shut around his head as he sucked on your clit. 
Your fingernails dug into his skin as your hips twitched, riding his face aggressively until you felt yourself cum for the third time. Completely defeated you collapsed onto the bed with a sigh, Steve wiped your cunt clean with his fingers and shoved down your throat. 
“I love how you taste Sweetheart” he smirked, taking his fingers out of your mouth and kissed you. 
Your lips touched until they were sore, your sadness had slipped away for a few moments. As you lay there talking with him, your hand in his the familiar feeling seeped back in. And your mind got lost in the idea of Billy being hurt, tears began to drop onto the pillow silently as Steve made dot-to-dot with your beauty moles. 
His hands on your skin slowly relaxed you, the sound of his breathing as he dropped into sleep helped you follow him into sleep. 
When you awoke, sunlight was streaming in through the gaps between his curtains. Your body filled with panic as you rushed to get changed, finding a pen and opening your book on his desk. 
Circling the few words needed to spell out: It’s been a pleasure, see you soon. Sweetheart. Pink hearts circled the word Sweetheart, leaving on his desk you walked over to his sleeping body and kissed his cheek. 
Once in your car, the feelings of panic and fear made your hands shake against the steering wheel as you drove home. Still in yesterday’s clothes as you tiptoed upstairs, it was 8:45 am on a Saturday and the house stood still.
 You were able to change and quickly leave the house before waking anyone up, your nerves still causing your hands to shake as you made your way to Billy’s house. 
Throwing rocks at his window always seemed to be romantic but right now, it was terrifying. His blonde curls stuck angrily out the caravan window, his body language softening slightly when he saw you. 
Sitting awkwardly on his bed as he carried in two mugs of coffee, his face was bruised, his arm was loosely in a sling. You took your mug out his hand quickly as his wincing face made you sad. 
“I’ve missed you” his voice was shaky, his eyes were sad as they looked at you. 
He sat facing you on the spare chair with a mug next to him, your hands burning on the hot drink as you smiled weakly at him. Examining his body once more, you were sad that he got hurt but almost relieved that he may never touch you again like that. 
“I’ve missed you too” taking a sip of your coffee, your true feelings were hidden by a burnt tongue. 
You had missed him but nothing like you used to. He looked different in your eyes. 
“I’m sorry that I hurt you, you know I get jealous. Especially around him” he stared into the contents of his mug, feeling sorry for himself. 
“I understand, I should have told you about the money instead of hiding it” your hand reached out and touched his knee with a smile. 
He nodded in agreement with you, feeling more relaxed after seeing him. You collapsed onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. Billy joined you not long after, his fingers tracing your skin making you giggle. 
You and Billy always used to lie on the grass together and trace each other's skin, he always said he loved the way you felt. But as you lay next to him, your heart was full of sadness. 
Billy’s body rose and fell as he drifted off into sleep, he was exhausted from the incident with Steve and working 2 jobs. 
You kissed his cheek and tiptoed out the house, rarely staying with Billy whilst he slept. He would usually be asleep for a couple of hours on end and you really wanted to be at home. 
Your family were noisily talking over the television when you arrived home, your mum was making food in the kitchen. Hugging and kissing your cheek with a loud “hello” she shoved some of the cooked food into your mouth. 
Pointing to your book on the counter, between mouthfuls of food you understood her mumbles to be “that arrived for you early”. Your body began to shake as you stared at it in your hands, the crumpled overead pages,the discoloured front cover. 
Smiling at her wearily before dashing upstairs, panting heavily as you forced it open. Hunting for the marked page, tracing your finger along the lines as your heart fluttered at the circles spelling out the words for you. Like you, he had covered the sentence with hearts. 
T e n   a t   m i n e , S
Clutching the book with a sigh, you shoved it into your desk drawer with the rest of your gifts from Steve. The few notes sat messily inside, the bag of money was hidden at the back as your hands ran across them. 
You had decided to use your favourite book as a way of communicating with him, hiding from the suspicions of Billy, your mum and the feds. Steve found the idea to be hot, sliding his hands down your body when you told him. 
This has been the first reply you had received and it gave you a thrill, an even bigger secret. 
Steve was full of surprises, something about the way his brain worked always left you speechless. You never felt unsafe with him. 
Deciding to take your mind off Steve and Billy, you opened up your homework book and began to complete the tasks for the week. It grew dark when a soft knock vibrated against your door, your head was hurting from falling asleep among the wood and the thin paged book on your desk. 
The door opened with a creak, your mum's smiling face peered round the door with a tray of food. 
“Here you go darling, I also wondered how Billy was?” She smiled at you, her eyes were filled with worry at the mention of Billy. 
Of course your mum would be wondering about Billy, their mutual crushes on each other were not subtle. She had heard about his accident in town the other day, you had noticed that her mood had dropped since then. 
“Billy is okay, he’s got a few bruises but he’s alive” you sighed, smiling fakily at her. 
“Well, you know I always had a weird feeling about that Steve Harrington” her voice was bitter and unapproving as she spoke about him. 
“He’s not that bad mum, he’s quite nice actually” you spoke defensively towards your mum. 
“Of course he’s nice to you” she laughed, tutting and leaving the room. Not giving you a chance to ask more. 
Her words played on your mind as you ate the food she had given, your eyes stared at the draw of items from him. 
Picking up the book off your desk, you routed through the enveloped money and shoved a few notes into your purse. The heavy necklace hitting your skin as you looked at it in the mirror each gem grazing your fingers.
 You imagined Steve was behind you, kissing your neck as your hands slid down your body and into your underwear. Watching yourself in the mirror as your fingers touched your clit, the coolness of your hand against the hot throbbing cunt. 
Your hands slid down between your folds, feeling how wet you had got just at the idea of Steve near you. Biting your lip as your finger played with your opening before returning and spanking your clit hard making you squeal and smirk. 
Suppressing your moans as you played with your clit, pressing your hips against the wooden desk. Giving you support as you grinded against your fingers, closing your eyes tightly as your mind wandered to Steve. Images of Billy flickered between Steve, your eyes rolled back as your clot grew engorged and more sensitive. 
“Oh fuck, Steve. I’m gonna cum” you panted, your body jerking against the desk as you rode yourself through your orgasm. 
Coating your fingers with your cum, continuing to grind your cum coated clit against your fingers until you came for the second time. Smirking to yourself, you removed your fingers and sucked on them hard. 
Washing your hand quickly in your bathroom sink, your family were still noisily talking downstairs. You hoped no one would question where you were going as you reached the door. 
“Are you going out?” Your mum turned from the television with a smile. 
“Yeah, I’m going to see Billy” you lied, biting your tongue as you smiled back. 
You saw your mum look at the necklace around your neck but you had shut the door before you could hear her comment. Unable to start the car quick enough, you wheel span off the drive and rushed to Steve’s. 
Hammering on the front door of his house, he opened almost instantly with his famous smile. A unlit cigarette in his mouth, you nervously laughed looking around before entering. 
You never cared before but your gut feeling was telling you that someone had seen you. 
His hand caressed your face and you melted, the feelings in your gut disappeared for a second. 
Unlike with Billy, Steve felt safe. Maybe it was the idea that if anyone were to hurt you, he wouldn’t settle for it. No matter the consequences. 
You had heard rumors for years that he was in love with you but you ignored them. Not wanting to believe something so tempting. 
But as you stood in the middle of the entrance to his house, you wondered what it would be like to fall in love with someone like Steve Harrington. 
His hand in yours as he led you upstairs, your words mumbled between breaths as his lips met yours on each step. 
“You came here early Sweetheart” he seemed happy but breathless as he pushed you through his bedroom door. 
“I needed to see you” you gasped, his hand was in your pants. Looking at you with a smirk, he felt your wet cunt. 
Throwing you on the bed, pulling down your underwear to expose your cum soaked cunt. Shooting him an innocent look, as he buried his head between them. 
“Someone has been making themselves cum I see” he mumbled between your folds as his tongue explored your entrance. 
Your head hitting the soft cover as your hands tugged on his hair as his fingers played with your clit, his tongue sliding in and out of your entrance. Moaning loudly as your hips rode against his face, coating his face with your precummed face as your body shook. 
‘’Get on my face, I want to taste you’’ you gasped, making eye contact with him. 
Your hips bucked as he removed his face from your cunt and did as he was told, hovering over you with his hard cock. Extending your tongue out as his cock slid down your throat, his head resumed its position on your cunt as he began to moan. 
Choking slightly as his cock hit the back of your throat, sometimes you forgot how big he was until you took him all into your mouth. Your hands cradled his balls, his tip tickled the back of your  throat as you sloppily sucked on his cock. Your moans rippled across his cock as he thrusted deeper inside you, his tongue was sliding in and out of your entrance as his hand flicked your clit.
“Oh fuck Steve, I’m so close” you trembled, his cock twitched as your cunt pulsated against his face. 
Riding yourself through to your orgasm, your moans and gasps vibrated against his cock as you came. Taking his cock faster into your mouth as you coated his face with your cum, he kept his face buried in between your legs until your tongue circled his tip. 
He whimpered as his cock trembled between your lips, his cum suddenly hit the back of your throat making you swallow it all instantly. His head tilted upwards as he finished completely, gasping for breath as he rolled off you, his sweaty body fell next to you. Catching your own breath, you smiled and kissed his face. 
“How about we go to a club?” Steve turned to you, his bare chest glistened with sweat. 
“A club?” You shakily spoke, feeling nervous about being seen in public with Steve. 
He parked outside your house as you rushed in to change, picking out one of the many dresses that Steve bought for you that one day. 
His eyes practically popped out his face when he saw you, the emerald dress had a slit across your leg. Your heels made you wobble on the concrete, laughing as you climbed into the car. 
Steve stuttered as his hand squeezed your thigh, he was wearing the only black suit he owned. As he rolled to the club, your nerves were on alert as his hand naturally slipped into yours. 
It was busy and loud as you walked to the entrance door. 
“Welcome Mr Harrington, right this way” the security at the door led you both through the club until you reached the VIP section. 
The area was blocked off, you felt odd as you sat closer to Steve. His eyes were darting around the place, feeling slightly on edge. As he ordered you both some drinks, he mumbled something to the security by the rope. 
After your drinks had been downed, you and Steve nestled closer together. His seductive whispering made your stomach flip, his hand sliding up your leg and grazed your underwear. Making you giggle, spreading your legs further apart allowing him more access when a security guard rushed over and demanded Steve’s attention. 
Mumbling the words “he’s here”, Steve’s body stiffened. Grabbing hold of your hand and pulling you away from the table, you took one last look at the bar to notice that Billy had just walked in. 
“Steve?” Your voice was filled with worry but confusion. 
“Yes Sweetheart” he turned to face you in the dim light of the driver seat, you saw him shiver. 
“Why were we here? And why did we leave?” Your curiosity growing as you examined his face, the shadows hid your nerves well. 
“I own this club Sweetheart, I wanted to show you it. And I didn’t want your little boyfriend to see you here” he sighed, his hand sliding off the leather steer wheel and resumed its rightful place on your thigh. 
“Do you have an office?” You asked, moving out of the shadows with a smirk. 
“I do’’ his voice was low and hot, leaning forward to kiss you. 
Taking you down the side alley of the club and the music got further away from your ears as he pushed you against the wall of the stairway. Unable to keep his hands off you, your back was hitting the cool and grimy blue wall as the double doors opened. 
‘’Oh, sorry Mr Harrington’’ the bartender from this morning when Steve found Billy, feeling embarrassed to have caught his new boss with you. 
‘’That’s okay, Sweetheart, do you want to head on up? I’m just going to chat with Sonny here for a second okay’’ he turned to you whispering, his hand slipping out of yours and as he smiled at you. 
Feeling nervous and slightly lost, you continued up the stairs until you reached a blue door with an ‘office’ sign on it and pushed it open. There was a big glass window that showed the club below, the mixture of lights hitting the walls around you. Your eyes moved onto each person downstairs until you found Billy, serving an attractive redhead by their body language you could sense that he was flirting. He leant across the bar, you could see his hand touch her face as he closed the gap between them and kissed her. 
Even though you were standing waiting for Steve in the club he had presumably just bought with a tattoo dedicated for you on his body, seeing Billy with another woman practically in front of you broke you. 
In that moment Steve walked in, feeling confident as he swaned in and gestured to the surroundings. He sat down on the black wheeled chair by the desk, watching you gaze at Billy through the glass. 
“Fuck me, Steve” your voice full of hurt and anger as you pushed yourself onto him. 
Fumbling over his suit trousers, his belt hitting the metal armrests of the chair as you straddled him. Grinding hard against his crotch, kissing his neck passionately until you felt his cock grow harder against your cunt. 
His hand explored your body, pinching every bit of skin he could hold onto. Moaning softly into your mouth as you roughly kissed him, your clit was throbbing against his cock as you continued to grind faster and faster until your body jolted and you felt yourself cum. Just needing to feel something, you slid your hand up and down on his cock before removing it from his boxes and playing with your clit and entrance. 
The position was awkward, standing up you seductively wiggled your ass over the desk. The dress still clinging to your body as his fingers played with your clit, your hips bucking as his tip slowly edged itself inside you. Your hands grasping onto the desk tightly as he filled up your walls with his big cock, the movements knocked piles of paperwork onto the fall. 
Your moans echoing in the cool room, the lights still bouncing off every wall as his cock hit your soft spot. Your hips moved back onto his cock as your clit grinded against his hand on the edge of the desk, your eyes tightly closed as your cunt grew wetter and wetter. 
“Oh fuck Steve. Give me your cock, I need it. ’’ You whimpered, the feelings of anger and hurt from Billy disappeared with every thrust. 
Steve moved his hand from your clit as spanked your ass hard, feeling it jiggle against his cock. He sped up his thrusting, hitting your walls harder and harder. Your moans grew louder and more guttural as your body moved hard against the weak wooden desk. 
“Oh my god, fuck. You know I love it when you tighten yourself around my cock, you’re so naughty. Making me fuck you in my new office’’ he groaned as you clenched your cunt around his cock as he slid in and out of you. 
Pushing your head onto the desk, thankfully there was a small pile of papers to soften your fall. Your eyes rolled back as he hit your soft spot hard, your legs buckling against the desk as you felt yourself cum. Squirting hard against his cock, making it drip loudly onto the conceted flooring as he leant back to watch as you continued to squirt hard. Your groans turned into gasps as your body tingled your intense sensation. 
Every thrust was more intense than the one before until you felt his cock twitch inside you, regaining energy from cumming hard you slid your hips back onto his cock. His moans were loud and sudden as his tip hit your wet dripping spot, his hands were spanking your ass hard against his cock. 
“Are you going to cum Steve? Cum in my wet cunt in the middle of your office, have your cum drip down my legs as you speak to your staff huh? That would be naughty wouldn’t it?’’ you moaned, your arms weakly grasping onto the desk as hard as you could. 
He groaned “fuck” broken and loud as his cock continued to twitch, slamming your hips into his as he exploded inside you. Filling up your dripping cunt with his cum, bending backwards to watch himself fuck his cum back inside you until his cock limply slipped out of you. 
You wiggled your ass in the air as some of the leftover cum slid down your legs, you turned around to face him with a smile. His hands cupped your face and kissed you, his tongue shoved through your lips into your mouth and played with yours. 
As he looked at you, his eyes were soft and filled with something more than lust. You wondered if he was hesitating to say something like “I love you” but he pressed his head against your forehead and closed his eyes.
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iamumbra195 · 8 months
Text
Random Snippet from my What if AU: Rukia was killed in the Soul Society after Aizen removed the Hogyoku from her?
Summary: Ichigo deals with the aftermath of failing to save a friend and has a conversation with our favorite Visored
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Ichigo stared at the bloodied and bruised man beneath him, maddening rage and the uncontrollable need to hurt someone still roaring in his mind as he sucked in a few painful breaths. There was blood soaking his torn shirt from where the fucker had managed to get a lucky hit with his switch before Ichigo knocked it away.
The woman the man had been groping was long gone and evidently hadn’t bothered to call the police or anything since Ichigo had been there for quite some time and he didn’t hear any sirens.
Not that Ichigo was going to call them. The man deserved every ounce of pain he had inflicted on him. If he wanted to go to the police or the hospital, he could do it himself and explain how it happened since they were more likely to try and arrest Ichigo for being a ‘delinquent’.
Ichigo took a deep breath before making his way back to where he had tossed his backpack, scowling at a woman who gasped at the sight of him and ran away. His side ached as he rummaged through his bag for a jacket and threw it over.
“You know, he might die if you leave him like that,” a now familiar voice commented mildly and Ichigo wheeled around, glaring at the blond who was continually intruding on his life from where he was perched on the fence.
“Yeah? Well, good for him. One less creep to deal with,” he spat, his lips pulling into a sneer.
Hirako tilted his head, still watching Ichigo with that unreadable look on his face that the redhead desperately wanted to punch off. “You know–”
Ichigo’s scowl deepened before he cut the man off. “If you say a word about my inner Hollow driving me insane, I’ll fucking kill you. I told you to leave me alone. I don’t care if you think I’m insane.”
Hirako laughed humourlessly. “Oh, I don’t think anything. I know you’re insane. Breaking into the Soul Society with three other kids and a cat for a girl you’ve known for two months and taking on several captains and seated officers.”
Ichigo faltered, shoulders drawing into a tense line. “Shut up. Don’t talk about her.”
Hirako paused for a moment before sighing heavily and jumping off the fence and landing lightly on his feet. “Look, kid. I’m not nagging you about this as much as I should because I get what you’re going through. But Aizen’s coming for you and coming for everyone. You’re scared of using your Bankai because you lost control the last time you used it and you’re scared it’s gonna happen again. You need to get that Hollow under control before it starts controlling you. You’ve noticed it, your family has noticed it. And we’re the only ones who can help you with that since we’ve dealt with it for over a century.” His gaze darkened and something like fear slithered in Ichigo’s gut. “Because if you don’t get it under control and become a danger to everyone, believe me, I will kill you.”
Black crept into Hirako’s sclera and for a moment, Ichigo couldn’t breathe, crushed under the weight of the blond’s reiatsu. For a moment, it felt like he was fighting Kenpachi all over again.
The feeling subsided just a second later and Hirako leaned back on his heel, his expression still almost unnervingly serious as he observed Ichigo.
“But that isn’t something I want to do. Pick your options,” he said simply before his mouth quirked into his usual smile, if a little more subdued, and he gestured towards Ichigo’s now hidden injury. “And get that checked out.”
Then he was gone and Ichigo was left to his own thoughts.
It was easy, temptingly easy to let the Hollow take control because most days all he could feel was anger or numbness. Killing Tousen hadn’t made him feel anything because it wasn’t enough. He wanted to kill Aizen for taking away Rukia just when Ichigo had finally managed to save her. He wanted to hurt all the Captains who had stood by and done nothing, remaining blind to Aizen’s machinations because it was their fault Rukia was dead.
But Rukia would’ve hated him if he allowed himself to be consumed by his own anger and desire for retribution and Ichigo didn’t want to taint his memory of her with his own delusions. He should’ve been strong enough to protect her, save her like she saved him.
But he wasn’t and she paid the price for it.
Hirako, no matter how much Ichigo didn’t like him, was offering him a chance to get stronger and get control of his abilities so he could use them to avenge Rukia and stop Aizen from hurting anyone else.
There wasn’t really much to think about.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Over my deepest flesh
There is something I hide behind my smile
Ever since my suffering started
At first, it's too hard to pretend
that everything's alright and I'm taught that
if I can't manage to keep this thing inside
everything will remain miserable
My faith, hope, love, or even everything I own
will eventually be void by this thing and
turn everything into guilt and hatred
that I never ever wanted to feel
Because I have already done with that side
But it keeps pursuing behind
I've to resist this dark side
Before it turns my way again to its glide
The side that I hated most
Is always inside trying countless attempts
to bring me in the bottomless hole
Just like a cave that has no escape
Or an illness that has no cure
It's always there waiting for your weakest days
When everyone turns back on you
When everyone judges you
And when everyone blames you
The calling of that Dark side you always tried to blur
That's whispering "Revenged"
- Unknown
This poem felt like it suited Ichigo
There will probably be a gracious amount of Shinji in this AU if I ever get around to writing it. I love his and Ichigo’s relationship in canon and the fact tht he continuously calls Ichigo out on his bullshit while remaining a loyal friend/mentor/weird uncle
I wish we got more of them because Shinji had so much potential but apparently he gets sidelined  so often and him and the Visored not using their hollow masks against the Quincy is such bullshit, especially after the other captain somewhat hollowfied themselves in order to gain their bankai and Visored already had hollow reiatsu imbedded into their soul making it so that the Quincy couldn’t steal their bankai like wtf???
Central 46 can take their dumb ass laws and shove them up their asses because the visored deserved better
all of my favourite characters get sidelined so much :(
Ichigo has so much beef with Kisuke in this AU it’s actually hilarious 
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