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#it's about......... coping with trauma.........and moving forward................

bebzbrainw0rmz · 3 days

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Hello!! A question for you, not in a offensive light at all but I wanna ask why you like pavlevi so much and how come it doesn't make you uncomfortable with the age gap? We don't know pavs age which is fair enough but.. You get my point! I still love em tho. Maybe I'm a bit conflicted

I’m so sorry but you made a fatal mistake of giving me an opportunity to yap about them ( but thank you for being very nice abt the question, it means a lot :3 )

Slight rant under more… tried my hardest to keep it short but I have so much to say abt these fuckass losers 😔

For the reasons why I like Pavlevi so much. It’s because they are my two favourite characters, I need to psychoanalyse them and make them trauma bond or I’ll DIE.

Levi has the solitary soul, he’s been alone for most of his life. What he seriously needs is connection. And I think most of the cast just can’t fundamentally understand him. (I’m not sure if I’m being biased and self projecting here because of my experiences being autistic but yeah 😭) And I genuinely think most of that cast would look at Levi with pity. Almost as if he can’t think for himself. And I think Levi hates it. It’s really a hard feeling to pin down, but it feels weirdly dehumanising?? Like say Karin or smth would mean well but it still feels like you’re being hang up to dry? And I think Levi fucking hates it when everyone is looking at him like that. And the pity ppl have for him comes from a place of being so disconnected from him. Most of them can’t really understand him or what he’s gone through I suppose?? It’s not their faults, it’s just how it is. Society has literally thrown him to wolves. His government striped him of his autonomy, has used him for it’s benefit and now it’s people look at him like this couldn’t have been avoided, that it’s something so sad, to be pitied. Which is also why I love pavlevi bc Pav is the only person that Levi can truely connect with. Someone else who’s gone through the same bullshit, torn apart by the same world. They are both cut from the same stone, just at different stages and coping in different ways which I think is interesting. And it’s so sad because why the hell does it have to be some Bremen fuck that actually treats him like a person and not just something to pity.

As for Pav’s side of the coin. I just really like to torture him. Due to what he’s gone through and seen, being in the army around the same age as Levi, if not younger. I feel like he’d see Levi as being fit to make his own damn decisions. It’s none of Pav’s business, Levi can do whatever and he honestly does not give a shit. But as they get closer I feel like I think Levi brings out all the guilt and shame Pav bottled up and pushed far down in his psyche. Like… he’s had to kill so many just like Levi, all to even get a chance at killing Kaiser. All of it being a glorified elaborate destructive suicide mission. And he’s very fucked up about it. Dread sets in for Pav because??? He’s a terrible person??? He’s had to wear this mask for so long, he doesn’t even know who he really is. Levi is just troubled and has been put in one unfair situation after another. Pav couldn’t move forward and purposely put himself in those situations and did those fucked up things. I also think it’s interesting to think of them as like an intimacy of convenience. Bc they both know they have no future and might die at any second, but it’s better to hold someone’s hand than be alone when you die.

Other tidbits!!

They are fucking funny, like c’mon getting bossed around by the enemy, and a LIEUTENANT on top of that, is fucking hilarious

I feel like you got this from the rant b4 but the Angst potential is crazyyyyy

Pav teasing Levi and making him all flustered, HELLOO??? I love blushy levi

Pav traversing caring for someone else that isn’t himself bc he’s fundamentally a self serving person gggghhh

IFUCKING LOVE DOOMED RELATIONSHIPS RAHHHHHHHHHHH

The way their heavily different personalities clash would be fun

Having someone there who's gone through what you've suffered through is so comforting. you're not alone anymore….. IM SICK IN THE HEAD

I think Levi should be allowed to kiss boys as a treat

I also think he should be allowed to shoot Pav in the head as a treat

As for the age gap.. I don’t like it at all ofc. 😭😭 It’s definitely not ideal. And I can 100% understand how that can be a deal breaker….. but I also feel like people baby Levi too much? He has 1 breakdown because he just got back from war, is going through heroin withdrawals, everyone in his home town has been turned into violent monsters, he’s hearing voices and someone just tried to kill him and he gets labeled a wimp. You put a guy in the worst situation ever and he cries ONCE and ppl call him a crybaby and infantilise him 💀 He’s stronger than people give him credit for… but that’s more of a problem with fandom than anything.

Also like… I tried….. I really tried to not like pavlevi….. But I’m way too fucking autistic abt them. It’s so bad that when I see them I get an adrenaline rush and do laps around my kitchen. I’m so serious. These guys are like pseudo drugs to me, I need to chop my head off.

And ofc I wouldn’t support 18 and 30 smth irl, that’s fucking gross……… And I would say the same for a stalker and her victim.. because look, I love S4marina, but it’s basically in the same boat as Pavlevi to me..

This being a fandom that should primarily be adults, I feel like ppl should understand that. Yk, having better common sense and media literacy to understand this stuff ain’t okay irl. I still realise it’s not everyone’s thing and I’m not trying to convince ppl to like it, just explain why I like it (NO ONE UNDERSTANDS THEM LIKE I DO, I NEED TO DIE)…. Anyway uuhm I understand it makes some ppl uncomfy, which is valid! Just don’t go into spaces where you’ll be exposed to it ig??? If you seriously don’t like it, the block button/blocking tags is right there. I do that too !!

#ask #I’m sorry for tweaking on main #it may happen again #pavlevi #I hope I said stuff that’s in a easy way to understand..#there’s a lot going on in my brain at all times my bad #I also hope I didn’t forget anything I wanted to say erm

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beetlejuicyy · 3 hours

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Corruption (A Blessing for a Curse User) | Geto Suguru x Reader

Summary: Geto Suguru is your last hope when you start seeing curses. But his reason for taking you in is more perverted than he lets you see. Set sometime during those ten years before jjk0

Warnings: manipulation, smut with plot, overstimulation, oral (f! receiving)

Word count: 5,834

Read on AO3

Author's note: i couldn't stop thinking that geto would have canonically used pussy therapy to cope so i had to come up with a plot for it

Masterlist

Your steps halted after reaching the top of the stairs. So many times you wanted to come to the temple, ask for help, thinking, knowing that you had nowhere else to turn to. But you always hesitated, anxiety and shame taking over your mind. But fear prevailed, at last. You went to therapists, they told you it was stress, unresolved childhood trauma. You've never heard of people seeing monsters at lunch time because they had a narcissistic mother. They were everywhere. And they were looking at you, their disgusting sounds echoing in your ears even after running away. You haven't had a good night's sleep in a couple of months. The only rest you had was always in the presence of someone else, scared that the monsters might come for you. What were they? What did they want from you?

You had reached your limit last night. You went out with some friends, thinking a large company would help. But it was worse. So many, so different, so disgusting. Those monsters were everywhere, on people's shoulders, hiding behind the corner of a building, on the counter at the grocery store. You ran home, away from the crowded neighbourhood, took a cold shower and decided you couldn't delay it anymore. Otherwise you would go completely insane.

You had to see Geto Suguru.

It was right before sunrise, when the darkness of the night was melting into brighter shades of blue, the fresh air of morning filling your lungs, encouraging you to move forward. You doubted anyone was there so early in the morning. You were determined to wait, in any case. You wrapped your fingers around the cold golden surface of the handle, hitting it lightly against the tall door. Behind, the tip of the sun was slowly creeping up, engulfing the world in a warm orange light.

"Good morning, miss early bird." You heard a gleeful voice.

Turning back, you noticed a tall, long haired man dressed in the traditional monk attire. His lips were curled up in a smile, although it lacked any warmth.

"I-I'm sorry to bother." You quickly apologized, trying to control your stuttering voice. "I-I know it's early but... uhm I am here for... I have a problem... I mean I want to talk to-" Maybe the sleepless nights were taking their toll on your concentration.

"I am Geto Suguru." The man said, his hands hidden away under the flowing sleeves of his kesa. "Come inside, I believe it is me you're looking for."

You nodded, following him inside. All the stories you heard from people who seeked out Geto's help were similar. He was kind and jovial, with a well developed, and borderline offensive, sense of humour for a monk. He helped everyone. But there was something off about him, you heard that often. Contrary to his gentle smile, people felt in danger in his presence, some describing it as a sensation of imminent death. You were feeling all of those things right now, as you walked one step behind him. Geto looked like he was coming from somewhere, not that he had just woken up to open the temple. You walked into an empty room, the only noticeable decoration being the three scrolls hanging on the wall.

Death to the Fool

Punishment to the Weak

Love to the Strong

Your steps froze in the middle of the room while Geto walked over, sitting down on the floor with the scrolls framing his head as he leaned his head to rest on his palm. The word weak blinded you for a moment and you couldn't concentrate on anything else but the thought that you were indeed weak. A fool? You weren't quite sure. Strong? Clearly not. You fitted perfectly into the weak category. You wondered if these were the principles of the man in front of you, a drop of sweat falling along your neck. You've never heard of these words used for any other temple. But you weren't the religious type anyway.

"Miss early bird?" You heard Geto's voice get louder and you realized you must have not heard him calling you before. You blinked, confused, introducing yourself.

"I think I'm going crazy." was the first thing you blurted out after your name. You didn't have the time to prepare a speech or rehearse anything. You let out whatever you felt first and Geto laughed, a mocking but harmless laugh that you couldn't blame. "I started seeing these weird monsters. Everywhere. Next to people. On the street. Some are even talking to me." Geto's attitude changed, his eyebrows raised in surprise. "I don't know how to get rid of them. Nobody else sees them. I don't even know if they are real."

"When did you start seeing these monsters?" He asked, his eyes paying more attention to your form now. It was faint, almost unnoticeable, but he could sense your cursed energy.

"A few months ago. Around the time I moved to the city. I'm from a small mountain village." You looked at Geto, your only hope, as he pondered on your fate. His silence made you more nervous with every passing second. More desperate. You didn't think you could bear to walk out on your own and see those monsters again. You would rather die.

Death to the Fool

Were you a fool?

"I want to be strong!" You yelled out as tears filled your eyes. "Please, please, please I don't ever want to see those things ever again!" You begged, falling on your knees. You were definitely weak. You sobbed in silence, not even noticing when Geto sat up and walked over to you. Your break down helped him make a decision it seemed. He crouched down in front of you, pulling your hands away from your face with his slender fingers.

"Miss early bird." He said as he wiped your tears away. You wanted to correct him, remind him that you had introduced yourself already, but his soft voice left you speechless. A softness, different from the previously dissimulated one, coated his words like a sweet ointment on your open wounds. "Do you know where these monsters come from?" You looked at him, eyes empty and confused, shaking your head. "They come from filthy monkeys." You frowned. Was he making fun of your suffering? "If you get rid of the cause, the effect would naturally disappear, don't you think?"

"Get rid of monkeys?" You asked, aware of the fact that, if he really was making fun of you, it was already unavoidable.

"A figure of speech." He threw his hands in the air, in a helpless gesture. "The things you're seeing are curses, miss early bird. And they are born out of humans that cannot control cursed energy." You would have snapped for sure at his reluctance to refer to you by name if his following words didn't make your eyes open wide in shock, unable to register the information you just received.

"So... I'm not going crazy?" You whispered, almost scared to say it out loud.

"You said you don't want to see curses again." His voice changed to a serious tone by the time your tears ran dry. "The only solution is getting rid of their cause. Monkeys." He spat out the last word with such spite that it had you jolt back in surprise.

"But I'm a human too..." You mumbled, finding this small error of logic in his story fatal.

"No, no." He waved a long, slim finger in front of your face like a toddler. "You have cursed energy. I can help you control it."

He sat up, gathering the the folds of his traditional robe. You looked up at him, one of his arms extended towards you, his palm just above your head.

"Do you want to help me kill all the monkeys, miss early bird?"

Out of all the people in Geto's inner circle, you clearly stood out as the weakest, dumbest and most useless. At least this is how you felt. His found family was, if you had to pick one word, peculiar. But even more peculiar than that was your very presence amongst them. You didn't have any basics, didn't even know this world existed until you begged Geto for help. He must run out of patience at some point, you thought. But everyday he found even the smallest moments to give you some insight or reevaluate your progress so far.

Geto Suguru was a proud man. After all, he was leading a cult. Your desperation hit a very sensitive spot inside him that he wasn't even aware existed. Something about your crying face, so pretty despite your agony, gave him the satisfaction of being your saviour. The feeling caught him by surprise as well. Usually, people begging him for help disgusted him. However, he took a lot of pleasure out of teaching you everything, starting with the most obvious things. Your eyes fixed on him, taking in his every word, so well behaved, so eager to make him proud.

It was a completely different feeling from taking care of Nanako and Mimiko. His care for them came from a genuine concern, an honest wish to defend the people like him, wronged by the unfair world. With you, his protection and guidance came from a more perverted part of his soul. A part that he ignored for long, uninterested in trivial matters like this.

He enjoyed having all the answers for your questions. He enjoyed solving your problems, being the person you depended on. He was teaching you how to be strong, yes, but he also enjoyed knowing he would always be above you, no matter what. Something about your lack of pride, your straightforward questions, your awe in response to his knowledge and strenght, everything about you rubbed him the right way.

"Tell me again about your village, miss early bird." Three months later and he still insisted on not using your name. You were convinced he had to know it, he simply found it amusing to use this silly nickname. It didn't bother you anymore.

"It's very peaceful." You said as you poured Geto some tea. After you found out about his unpleasant technique, you made it your daily task to offer him some consolation in order to make up for the nauseating taste of curses he absorbed. "People are very close to nature, it brings a lot of peace to the soul." The tea you were preparing for him had calming properties, besides the floral mild taste. "There are no natural calamities and no thieves. People learned to take what they need from nature and share it with the community. The wi-fi signal is shitty, though." You joked and he smiled before taking a sip.

You found yourself fall for that smile. It was quite inevitable, if you really put some thought into it. He was so kind, so gentle, so generous, so patient with you. Not to mention his handsome face. Soon, you started wishing you could see more of what was hiding under his attire. You quickly learned how to distinguish between the subtle undertones of his smile. Maybe you were delusional, but you never saw him smile to other people like he smiled for you.

"Sounds like a nice place." That's what he would always say. You guessed the idea of your boring home village was some kind if utopia for him. No wonder you never saw curses before. They didn't exist there.

"Why did you leave?" It was the first time he asked. He was usually more interested in the way the community worked, how people avoided conflicts, how secluded the place was or how many modern things were absent there.

"I had no future there." He nodded, understading your perfectly valid point.

"Would you go back?" He asked, his eyes already searching the answer in your wavering gaze.

"Only to visit." You answered. He already guessed that from the sad look on your face as you remembered about your home.

"Make sure you take me too some time."

You gradually grew closer to everyone else. The dedication of Geto's followers was quite impressive and it only made you want to compete even more fervently for his favours. You quickly realized that the basic martial arts you learned as a kid held more importance than you initially thought. Sometimes Geto would challenge you, only to have you immobilized humiliatingly fast. But thirty seconds turned to one full minute, then two, then five. The more you trained your body, the longer you were able to face him. And the longer you lasted, the more satisfying became the moment when he had both your wrists behind your back in a tight grip, his other hand in your hair while his weight pressed your body firmly on the ground. You've never noticed him paying time and energy with anyone's training, let alone enjoy defeating them as much.

"Gotcha, miss early bird." He would whisper in your ear and you would unsuccessfully try to resist, to break free of his grip, which only made him laugh and hold you tighter. "You'd be dead by now."

When he would finally move away, you would find yourself wishing he remained longer, althought the strain in your shoulders and the pressure of his weight were painful.

"Ten minutes, that's a new record." Geto would praise you when checking the timer. You thought your heart was about to explode out of your chest when he slipped the robe off his shoulders, groaning in the scorching sun of noon. "You've got me sweating, good job."

You were still laying on the ground, rolled on your back, watching his tall figure tower over you. The sun was behind him, like a halo around his head crowned with messy raven hair that fell down to his waist. You couldn't see his face clearly, the light behind him too strong, blinding you. But what you could see was the shape of his body, the round and sharp turns that shaped the contour of his silhouette. His broad shoulders, his fit arms, his slim waist and muscular abdomen right above the band of his baloon pants. In that moment, he looked otherwordly to you. A light in your brain was switched on and you completely understood why people gathered around him, why they pledged allegiance to his cause, why he was worthy of worship. You were left speechless, on the ground, at his feet. He had all the rights to step over you, punish you. Compared to him, you would always be weak, insignificant.

Geto noticed your awe. It was only the two of you, no one else in sight. He pretended not to, but the corner of his mouth was curled in a patronizing grin. All the light of day was reflected on your body, sweaty and gasping for air after only ten minutes of facing him. How pathetic. And yet, your weakness didn't trigger repugnance or malice. Your helpless attempts to fight back, fully aware that it was futile, delighted him. Especially now, when your eyes sparkled in the sun, pupils dilated in veneration, your presence was so unbearably arousing to the point that all the blood seemed to flow into his cock.

"I looked into your fairy tale village." Geto finally said. You would have never stood up from the ground, willing to witness his greatness for the rest of your life. "There's a very high chance you have inherited a special cursed technique." You blinked several times, like trying to get rid of a haze covering your eyes. You sat up, your previously high ponytail only a tangled mess now.

"I don't understand." How could you be so shamelessly blunt? If he were in your shoes, Geto would be embarrassed to admit his lack of knowledge so easily. But in front of him, you bluntly and carelessly showed your most innocent and pure self, like a clueless lamb unaware of the coming slaughter.

"Remote villages are common but yours seemes to have the best of both worlds. No greed, no crime, no hatred yet it's fairly modern and economically thriving."

As the words left his lips he realized that maybe this was the very reason you trusted him so easily, laid all your flaws in front of him so he could pick and choose which way to build you up. You hardly ever went through hardships in life. You learned to trust the people around you. Consequently, seeing curses for the first time was probably the worst thing that had happened to you. You were so untained by the unfair world. So untouched. So easily breakable. You were a blank canvas of innocence with plently of space for him to paint any sinful whim residing in his soul.

"Turns out you're a descendant of an old clan of sorcerers who abandoned the old ways of jujutsu a few hundred years ago. Most were exterminated, the surviving never found."

You parted your lips in an attempt to protest but not sound came out of your mouth. Insead, an astonished expression fell over your face, as you watched Geto sit back down on the ground, a couple of steps away from you.

"You've never seen curses because jujutsu sorcerers don't produce curses. And your tiny mountain village was made up of exclusively descendants of this clan. It may be dormant, but your legacy is still there."

Geto's dark eyes shimmered with a violet shade in the sun, contrasting with his long dark locks that fell over his shoulders, absorbing all the light.

"Isn't it... the world you want to create?" You asked unsure, feeling like he was a teacher testing you. One wrong answer and you could fail the class.

"A scaled-down version, yes." He agreed.

Your eyes uncontrollably fell down his body, watching how his chest softly rose and fell as he breathed, how toned his arms were, how inviting his posture was. You felt a primal urge to crawl up to him, touch him, provoke him. And you did. Gathering your remaining strength, you closed the distance between your bodies. He stood there, unmoved, his eyes looking down at your smaller body, like a hunter watching his prey. Except that his prey was walking right into his jaws, so close. Now, the words death to the fool made perfect sense. A faint breeze of air brushed over both of you, so weak that only the ends of his hair fluttered in the air, grazing against your skin.

"Geto-sama." You said, closer to a whisper, afraid that the wind might carry your words for others to hear. "I believe I was born to serve you."

The stronger you became, the closer you got to Geto. Or perhaps it was the other way around. Needless to say, the toll his cursed technique was taking on his body and, more importantly, on his mind was painful to witness. There were times when he would keep the distance, isolating himself so his vulnerable side would remain unknown. A couple of days later he would come back to his usual self, as if nothing happened. Everyone was used to this rare occurence, respecting his space and his choices. After all, who were they to question master Geto's actions? But it always bothered you.

Whenever the sickening taste of curses would become overwhelming and his entire soul would feel like an abandoned landfill, Geto would try to find comfort and pleasure in distractions that could help him cope, keep him one step away from the edge until he would rebuild his strength again. Soon enough, such a distraction was the thought of you, or, to be more specific, the thought of things he would do to you. The idea of corrupting those innocent, honest eyes which trusted him too much. He was almost sure you've never been with a man before, and this detail only made the thought of tainting you with his touch even more pleasing. Geto's soul was damned to be the abyss that trapped curses while yours was so empty, so peaceful, so quiet. Perhaps this was the only thin string of common sense that held him back from unleashing all his urges upon you. If he did bring ruin to your serenity, what was left for him to cling to? Everything you knew about the world, about jujutsu, it was all throgh his lens. Your convictions, your ideals, your motivation they were all his. Your loyalty to him was unbreakable, but wasn't it really his merit? If he did, after all, choose to ravage the holy garden and taste the fruit, wouldn't it also destroy the unsullied image of him in your eyes?

These thoughts were harder to resist whenever you cluelessly insisted on being next to Geto even when he pushed you away. You were knocking at his locked door, telling him you prepared some tea.

The tea is fucking useless.

The real medicine for his nerves, for his fatigue, for his dark thoughts was you. Only you. He would drink all the tea in the world just to have you sitting next to him, talking about nothing in particular. Geto used to think that your relationship dynamic is unchangeable. He was playing god, building the world around you, while you cluelessly looked up to him, not guessing even a fraction of his thoughts or intentions. He was superior in every sense. Then why did he feel so vulnerable when you knocked on his door, spoke his name so respectfully? Why was it so hard for him to control himself, send you away like all the times before?

Maybe this was what addiction felt like. Or was that tea really poisonous? Alone in his dark room, only a dim light creeping in from outside, Geto realized that maybe the dynamic you had changed. He changed. You gave him small bites of your presence, quick sips of your warmth every day until he found himself addicted. How could he send you away when you were the last remedy he could use to cope?

"Geto-sama?" You asked again when no sound came from inside his room.

"Come in." His voice was languid, reverberating in your brain like a lustful invitation. No, he was feeling sick. You were too caught up in your own desires while he was having a hard time.

His room was dark, unlike the brightly lighted hallway. It took a moment for your eyes to adjust to the change, but the first thing you noticed was the mass of long hair shining in the dim light. It was so captivating how in the bright light of the sun it was a dark shade absorbing everything, while in the soft night light it was almost glimmering, so luscious and silky.

"I don't feel like drinking tea tonight." His voice filled the room, soft and vulnerable, and it almost made you think he was hurt. So you put down the tray on the floor, your eyes still unable to spot the table exactly, and hurried to his side, to the light coming in through the window.

"Are you alright, Geto-sama?" You asked, voice full of worry, as you placed a hand flat on his forehead. His hair was beautifully unkempt and you pushed some strands away to see his face better. But as soon as he raised his eyes to look at you a shiver ran down your spine and you took your hand away swiftly.

He successfully tricked you. Contrary to his frail voice and his lethargic posture on the bed, his eyes were sharp, full of energy and piercing right through you. You felt threatened, although it was the same Geto you admired and served, the same Geto who taught you how to fight curses, how to defend yourself. But how could you defend yourself from him?

"I'm sorry if my presence is not as neat as you're used to." He said. He was still wearing the usual kesa and you wondered how much of his identity really resided in the religious facade. You wanted to see past that.

"Are you in pain?" You asked. He looked like a wounded animal, one that could still do you harm even in this state.

"Yes." He said, but nothing about the way he looked at you seemed to signal that he was in need of help. Instead, he was luring you in.

"How does it feel?" You slowly approached him again and sat down by his side. His back was resting against the wall and he watched you with a certain amused look. How foolish could you be?

"Like you felt when you first came to me." Geto answered, his eyes glued to yours. "Only that all those curses are inside me."

"Is this why you helped me?"

It was painfully ironic how, despite of how smart he thought he was, you delivered the answer so effortlessly.

"For the most part, yeah." He admitted. The rest of the reason was blatantly reflected in his eyes that were eating you alive as he spoke.

"Let me help you." You breathed out, without thinking. There was no logical reasoning in your brain. You natutally felt it in your body that you had what he wanted and you wanted to give it to him. "If I could take only a fraction of your torment away it would be worth it."

"How would you do that?" He asked, noticing how you leaned in and your hand touched his in a seemingly platonic attempt to comfort. But there was nothing platonic about the way you looked at him.

"Show me how curses taste." You breathed out.

For a moment, Geto was taken by surprise by your bluntness. What if you really could feel the sickening taste of curses on his lips? Would it make you turn back in disgust? Would it shatter the perfect image he built for himself inside your mind?

You didn't give him any more time to think. You simply stood up in front of him and pulled at the hems of your shirt, taking it off. Geto's eyes followed your every move in the dark, noticing the round contour of your breasts and the white lace of your bra. All his focus, his control, was gone. He was looking at you wide eyed, his pupils devouring every inch of your body as your fingers unclasped the bra in the front. He felt his mouth water, a primal hunger sparking alive inside his soul when your tits bounced free as you discarded the bra on the floor. You were offering yourself to him like a tribute, like a sacrifice to the gods. His train of thought was broken off, all the confusion and tumult in his mind completely turned off by the feeling of your lips on top of his. For a moment he remained frozen, the shadow of doubt still lingering, waiting for you to break away in repulsion. But you didn't. Instead, you placed your hand on his cheek, pressing your body closer to his. It was the last hint he needed.

Geto's hungry lips moved along with yours, easily taking control. You moaned in discomfort when his body shifted, pressing you down on the bed in an uncomfortable position, his lips never breaking off from yours. The feeling of his weight on top of you, his hair falling over his shoulders, brushing against your skin felt oddly familiar and, while you struggled to find a more comfortable position under him, you realized it felt just like the times you would fight. It was the same tension, the same blood rushing in your veins in excitement, the same anticipation for what would come next. Except that now you were taking it one step further.

To Geto, right now, you had only one purpose. His pleasure. Altough his hands touched you greedily, your flesh kneaded under his palms so roughly yet so satisfying, and his mouth moved to your neck to suck and bite every spot he found, earning soft moans of pleasure from you, it was all for himself. He was drunk on the taste of you. So desperate to forget everything else, eager to taste only you on his lips, forever. Your flesh was so soft, so sweet, so addicting. You were soaking wet already by the time his tongue ran circles around your sensitive nipple, rubbing your thighs together under your skirt. Both your hands were buried in his hair, pushing it away from his face while he couldn't be bothered with anything else but your flesh. You could also feel it, how selfish, how insatiable he was. Your pleasure was only a fortunate side effect, a convenient occurance. Between soft whimpers and muffled sounds of sucking and licking on your skin, you realized that he didn't care. His chaotic movements, his bites that were getting deeper and deeper everytime he sank his teeth into the soft tissue of your breast, his uncontrollable groans as he devoured you, it was all for himself. You were no different than the curses he was swallowing for later use. He would eat you alive if he could.

By the time he had your skirt pulled up, your panties discarded somewhere in the dark, his teeth grazing against the sensitive skin of your thigh, it was too late. If there was a chance you could stop him before, check on him, try to get him to slow down a little, when his tongue first touched your wet and sensitive core it was already too late.

You gasped for air, your grip on his hair tightening as his tongue ran between your folds, running circles over your throbbing clit. He was eating you out with an aching thirst, sloppy and loudly, the only thing covering the dirty wet sounds of his tongue drenched in your juices being your own moans, significantly louder than before. He had your legs over his shoulders, his arms keeping your legs spread apart while his face was burried between them. He had you arching your back, dark strands of his hair falling from between your trembling fingers as his tongue dived inside you, his nose nuzzling up against your clit.

Your taste, your smell, your everything was numbing all his other senses, his mind blank, asleep, thoughtless. The only thing driving him, dictating every turn of his tongue, every press of his lips was the unquenchable thirst to eat you, consume you. Something inside his blood, his bones, his soul dictated that the pitch black abyss where he kept all the curses he ever swallowed could be obliterated by you.

"So sweet for me."

It didn't take much before his tongue got you close to the edge, your orgasm only a few touches away as your toes curled and your muscles tightened, although his arms kept your legs pushed apart. He didn't care at all if anyone heard your filthy moans or the sound of his name echoing from inside his room. You were loud enough, even louder than ever as you came, the peak of pleasure washing over you.

But soon, pleasure turned to pain as Geto kept the same hungry rhythm, continuing to eat you out with the same determination like he didn't even notice your orgasm.

"So fucking sweet."

He couldn't have missed it, his name reverberating in the silent room like a fervent prayer, your thighs tightening under his touch, your hands pulling at his hair. He didn't care. He was doing it for himself, eating you out for his own pleasure. Moreover, his effort only intesified as you fought to push him away. The more you struggled to get his face away from your overstimulated pussy, the faster his tongue moved. You cried out his name again, this time in pain, begging him to stop. You tried pushing your legs together, fighting to break free. Your hands tried pushing his head away. The back of your heels hit his back, your legs trying to force him away. You begged, implored him to stop as tears rolled down your face. But he had your hips tightly pressed on the mattress, arms forcing your thighs apart. Once again, you felt exactly like the the times he would train you. So easily defeated. So helpless.

"Ge-geto... sa-ah-ma." You begged between cries, your salty tears falling uncontrollably like the first day when you came to him. "No more... ple-please." He pushed one of your legs with his elbows, his palm pressing firmly on your lower belly, forcing your convulsions to stop.

"Shut up or I'll have you chained up." He found the time to growl, even the feeling of his breath against your painfully overstimulated clit making you cry out.

His warning meant nothing compared to your discomfort, but your second orgasm started building up shortly. Your struggle died down and your hands were pulling him closer again, nails digging into his shoulders. A wet pool of your fluids and his saliva mixed together was dripping off your skin on the sheets as your body shook again, more violently than the previous time. He seemed to have had enough, at least for the moment, because he let you go, your legs desperately pressed together as you rolled on your side, whole body trembling, heavy breathing, every cell of your body exploding with raw pleasure.

You didn't know for how much time you simply laid there, your mind hazy from the overstimulation, your body exhausted from both pleasure and pain. It could have been five minutes or as much as the whole night that had passed when you finally became aware of Geto's eyes fixed on your body.

But the thing that really made you snap out of your lifelessness was his voice calling out your name. Your own name, for the first time. Almost as if he learned it only after having your taste left on his lips.

"You're a blessing." Geto breathed out as the strain in his jaw was slowly creeping in. You didn't say anything in return. There was nothing to say to those intoxicated eyes. Those swollen lips still covered in your juices. His tongue ran over them, collecting the last remains of your juices. But the pain in his voice was gone. Although bewildered and curious, he seemed to have regained his energy, rediscovered a reason to live.

Your breath hitched when he leaned over you again, his lips offering soft kisses along your leg, upwards to your hips. He seemed more collected, more in control of his instincts as he put the minimal pressure on your skin with every kiss until he reached your lips again. Your hands pulled at his clothes, the desire to see him naked like he saw you taking over. He chuckled, giving in to your petty efforts.

"Please, Geto-sama." You said. "Let me satisfy your needs."

He smiled, that patronizing smile of satisfaction.

"You can try."

《previous Ascension | next》 Eraser |True Form!Sukuna x Reader Sukuna x Reader

#geto suguru #geto smut #geto suguru smut #jjk geto #jujustu kaisen #geto x reader #geto x you #geto x y/n #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto x you #geto suguru imagines #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen imagines

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lessthanimpressedlesbian · 2 years

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I think what rubbed me the wrong way between Ashton and Laudna was how Ashton went about bringing up everything. They truly don't understand what Laudna's been through, because the only people that know about Delilah and the Sun Tree are Imogen and Orym. She hasn't opened up to anyone else, and it felt like Ashton was trying to make Laudna meet them where they're at, instead of trying to meet Laudna where she's at. And maybe the end result would be the same, but I personally didn't like how sure he seemed about things. Telling Laudna they're not beyond redemption doesn't do anything to solve her problems with Delilah. Now if he offers to be her kill switch, then that's a different story.

It was great because Ashton got her to acknowledge some of her own shit, but I think her brand of trauma and destructive beliefs/dangerous behaviors requires a much longer, private conversation where she doesn't have the added pressure of having to appear "normal" to anyone else.

#critical role #critical role spoilers #cr spoilers #just my two cents #theyre similar #but so different #and because of that they dont really understand each other #they can see where they line up #but laudna is struggling in a way ashton cant understand #because theyre fundamentally different people with different forms of trauma and different coping mechanisms #both are destructive #both are protective of their chosen person #but laudna gives all of herself to imogen's future #while ashton does his best to let fcg choose their own future #and thats where the difference is #ashton has self-confidence and self-worth #he doesnt give himself up for fcg's sake #meanwhile laudna doesnt even see herself as a person #and thus cant imagine moving forward or letting others know when shes struggling #idk i have a lot of thoughts about how theyre more different than they are similar #theyre not 2 sides of the same coin #theyre two broken things that got fixed up in different ways #ashton was gilded and laudna was sewn together #and that makes a difference

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spade-club · 1 year

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Had a nightmare last night and in typical me fashion, I forgot about it but as soon as I got in my car after work it just crashed down on me what happened and why its. A problem. I havent had a sexual dream that clearly triggered me in a very obvious way in a while. I forget how fucked up it is to wake up and know that theres a part of me thats so used to being treated that way that it hardly registers as a bad dream despite it clearly being distressing. I wish I could make sense of dreams like this, especially considering the severity of them and what they do to me. I have so many suspects for what could have happened to me, isnt that fucked up? I can't trust any of my memories or experiences. My dreams wont let me forget but I dont think I'm capable of remembering, isnt that fucked up? I just want to heal. I just want to be free. I dont want to be afraid anymore.

#there is a sort of healing in understanding I'm not bad for the ways I treated my trauma when I was younger #like. I did morally questionable things that I now understand. I can forgive myself and grow now.#I used certain ways to cope when I was young and dumb and secretly traumatized that I do not approve of #some things that may have even hurt others too.#but I can begin to understand myself and learn and grow and adapt better ways to cope #and I'm glad I have that.#even if I dont understand the what yet. I can try to understand the what next #because I'm not dismissing this shit or blaming myself or minimizing it anymore #I am free to move forward.#optimism?? in my tags?? certainly no.#idk just my brains silly little way of ignoring the problem but its useful sometimes #like now. right before bed. when I shouldnt be thinking about it.#anyway goodnight. wish me luck tonight lol #tw sa #<-forgot to add oops

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proudfreakmetarusonniku · 3 months

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Anyway, while people are discoursing about men and not sharing Shubble points, here’s the actual advice I got from watching the stream bc I think that probably needs to be spread more. Shubble elaborates it much better but if you can’t watch it’s better than nothing.

Physical abuse is not just hitting or kicking, anyone causing physical pain intentionally to you without consent is physically abusive, regardless of how that manifests or if it seems silly.

Pressuring someone into using a safeword on something that’s not, like, a mutually agreed thing and is just something one partner wants is controlling and creepy.

Partners who push at the edge of your boundaries and avoid safewords are abusive.

A partner insisting you’re remembering things wrong and making you seem crazy is abusive (specifically, it’s gaslighting)

Grand romantic gestures from the beginning can very easily be a sign of abuse, as abusers use it to endear themselves to their victims.

Controlling behaviour and refusing to break up while also refusing to make changes is possessive and unhealthy at best.

Abusers will manipulate things to make it seem normal to those outside of their victims- by being kind and helpful even as they neglect their victim, by pressuring their victim to treat their abusive behaviour as a joke, ect. It’s often very hard for an outside observer to know if something is abusive, and making assumptions off of what you know in front of closed doors isn’t helpful.

It’s very hard to tell that you’re being abused, and you'll often still retain affection for your abuser for a long time- this is normal, and this isn’t your fault if you wanted to stay friends.

Even if an abuser is struggling with their own problems, taking it out on you is not acceptable. People can be bottling up their emotions and struggle with depression and past trauma and that gives them no excuse to hurt you.

If your partner relies entirely on you to take care of them, and support them financially, that’s financial abuse one way or another.

Abusers tend to hurt more than one person, and their actions escalate without outside influence (be it intervention if possible or something that keeps them away from victims if not.)

Listen to your gut, if you think a relationship is bad. Even if you’ve been through this before, sometimes you can’t realise in it, but you’ll feel it subconciously.

Also, Shubble is being supported by friends who helped her cope and went through different but similar things. She's specifically mentioned right now keeping the stories anonymised, but she might change her mind, if I interpreted the last bit correctly. She's doing alright, she's healing, and it sounds like she's being believed by her friends, at least most of them. I wish nothing but growth and healing for them, and wish them the best moving forward.

#Shelby shubble #I will not say I’m not guilty of this but I’m genuinely suprised I haven’t seen anything summarising this #I get it the immediate response is anger after denial innit #But I think this is far more important

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inbarfink · 8 months

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I have… so many little thoughts about Simon’s shift in the climax of ‘Prismo the Wishmaster’. He’s so ready to give up, to resign to Death By Interdimensional Beetle Cop. And the thing that pulls him out of it, gets him to see a purpose in his life again, is seeing Fionna cry.

And this moment is so important for Fionna and Cake because this is their first moment to really process the Implications and Consequences of their magical adventure. You know, it’s not just a dream you can wake up from - this is actually a matter of life and death and the fate of their entire world.

And it’s actually, also kinda the same from Simon’s perspective? Even if he was already told they are real and have been real all along a while ago - I think seeing Fionna break out in tears is really the moment where he processed her not as a manifestation of Ice King’s madness, not as yet another way the universe is kicking him when he’s down, not as a cruel joke at his expense. But really actually as people, who need his help.

And, I think about this, also in context with this moment?

Simon Petrikov is… a dad at heart. Simon’s first focus episode in F&C starts with a prologue of him and Marceline surviving in the wasteland. Showing that despite being under much more miserable circumstances

he still seemed to hold himself together far better than present-day Simon.

Because the need to protect Marcy and keep her happy was giving him purpose and a motivation to hold himself together.

And this desire to help and nurture and protect is clearly still deep within him. It’s just that now he feels incapable for doing so. In both body-

And spirit -

But now, suddenly, he is once again the Only Person Who Can Help this younger person in distress.

And I think that is a huge part of his motivation to keep on going right now. I mean, just look at how quickly he goes from dismissing Fionna and Cake - into basically declaring that he has to protect them. And fully willing to sacrifice his own identity and sanity to bring magic back to their world because he knows it’ll make Fionna and Cake happy. Because the moment he saw Fionna tear up, he basically decided to Adopt her.

And that’s, you know, technically a step forward - but it is a very very imperfect step.

Like, at the very least he’s not drinking his sorrows away while waiting for death out of pure despair and spite. At least he has a sense of purpose and a reason to open up for others again and bond. And we’ve seen how much this has been a great coping mechanism for pulling himself together through difficult times.

My guess is that after two episodes of only seeing Simon Petrikov at his lowest and very worst - Fionna and Cake are finally going to get an understanding of Simon’s actual positive qualities as his dad-instincts are going to bring them up to the surface again.

Buuuuuuuut….

You know, tying your sense of self-worth and motivation entirely to how well you can Dad is not particularly healthy in the long run either. And it’s going to cause problems both for Simon and for F&C.

Looking at it from what's best of Simon, for the sake of protecting Fionna and Cake and making them happy by bringing magic and wonder back into their world - Simon is willing to throw himself right into the suffering and trauma that he’s been fearing all this time and has been trying so hard to get away from. I mean, it’s also about how Simon has started to miss being Ice King in a weird twisted way and how he resigned himself to being miserable in general. It’s also about that, but the part that he actually says out loud is that he’s doing this to protect Fionna and Cake.

So that’s, you know, still very Not Good. Simon can’t hang his entire ability to properly function on there being Younger People who need his protection. He can't actually move forwards by trying to relive the Better Times of the Horrible Post-Apocalyptic Wasteland. That's not a sustainable coping mechanism. And it’s an incredibly unhealthy amount of self-sacrifice.

And on Fionna’s side… she never said she wanted Simon to protect her.

She might want a useful teammate or a helping hand, she might need a friend. But I don’t think she needs a Dad. Simon is surely old enough to be her father (even just counting his age biologically and not the fact he’s 1058 years old) but Fionna’s not a Literal Child like Marcy was. Fionna Campbell is a grown-ass woman in her early 30’s (Finn is 29 years old right now and there was always kinda the implication that Fionna was a bit older than him).

(And, heck, if she IS the daughter of a gender-flipped Minerva Campbell, she is probably not in the market for a new overprotective dad. She’s fully booked out on that.)

AND while Fionna does not possess full memories of her magical-adventuring-self, she clearly retains some of her fighting and athletic abilities.

Meanwhile Cake is clearly an adult in cat years and is just as much of an insanely powerful shapeshifter as Jake was.

So where does this middle-aged scrawny nerd get off, acting like it’s his job to sacrifice his mind in order to protect them?

And Fionna very much wants to be the hero, she wants to be at the center of the action. It is no coincidence that her own idealized version of Ice King/Simon is a Tuxedo Mask.

Someone who can give her a helping hand and words of encouragement when things get rough -

But still lets her be the main hero of the story.

And you know, right now Fionna and Cake have not fully processed the implications of Simon choosing to become Ice King… but once they see a bit of who Simon really is at his better moments. Yeah, they’re probably gonna have some objections to the idea that he should throw his entire identity away just for their own sake.

Back when Simon allowed the Crown to slowly consume him so he could protect Marcy, it felt like a noble sacrifice. It really seemed like he had no other options. But now he has the entire multiverse on his disposal and two serious badasses on his side. Simon has to learn to see the difference between a codependent senseless self-sacrifice and something that will actually help Fionna and Cake.

So if Simon is really going to lean too hard on his Dad aspect, it’s actually going to cause some really big problems down the line. For his own mental well-being, and for Fionna and Cake. It is in a way, a step in the right direction. And I think it’s going to lead to our main trio finally becoming closer and understanding each other - but unless Simon learns to temper himself, it’s going to cause some serious interpersonal conflicts.

At least this is my thoughts about these interactions right now. I know they’ve been really short but I think they’re really full of Meaning and Emotions. But really, we’ll just have to wait and see.

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dimepdf · 1 year

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𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐘, 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐘'𝐒 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄.+ 𝐊Ö𝐍𝐈𝐆

masterlist. / taglist. / any request? synopsis. you miss König a lot, and every time he comes back, you make sure to make up for lost time.

pairing. König x reader

genre and warnings. +18 nsfw under the cut. minors dni, dating headcanons, established relationship, smitten, relationship fluff, size kink, height difference, slight dom/sub, slight choking, cowboy position, save a horse ride a cowboy | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍 800+ w.c.

König as your broad nervous boyfriend is awkward not in the way that he stutters while trying to talk, but in the way that he simply cannot maintain eye contact without his third leg appearing.

König would be so afraid to even touch you sometimes since he's just towering over you and packed with so much muscle, and he's been literally trained to kill one of his fears, which is that he might accidentally break you into two.

And it doesn't completely help that you find that idea so fucking hot. Often would you tempt the poor man's neglected, touched starved soul.

Combing the nails of your fingers against his scalp as he rested his head against your thigh dozing off, cupping his chiseled jaw, and placing a kiss against the corner of his mouth leaving just a hint of sweet flavor from your lip balm that has him tongue dragging over his bottom lip every time as if he was starving for your kisses.

Unwinding him like a ball of string at your will, the second you crawl into Konig's lap, demanding his attention, straddling your thighs against his, he knows just from the look in your eyes just what you've been fidgeting all this time for.

The acrylic of your nails made crescent nail marks into the thick build of his neck as you tilted his head up, just like you had managed to take so much authority from him. König seemed to feel most at ease whenever he was in your presence.

Being out on the front lines and surviving all that trauma and violence König had practically grown up in the rough of the fields, knowing that he had gotten his footing in the military when he had just turned the required age too.

He was well aware that coping with his bad anxiety through violence and expressing his emotions solely through brutal combat was both dangerous and extremely unhealable.

Luckily, a new addiction came along to replace some of that pent-up hatred: the moment he had laid his eyes on you, he had fallen face-first in love with you.

You had always been the one to make the first move for everything, and if you hadn't introduced yourself and been forward with him the day you two had met, König was convinced that he just wouldn't have the guts to even look in your direction.

The six-foot-ten man with muscles bigger than the spread of your thigh who still managed to melt into a flustering mess of nothing every time you kissed him

König was everything you could have asked for and more in a man, whimpering at your small praise and strings of worship in your eyes.

When you first met König, he just happened to be in the right place at the right time.

Finally having a break from his mission, he and the crew took the night off to wind down with a few drinks at one of your town's bars.

It was impossible for König to blend in like the others, even sitting down, because his height made him stick out like a sore thumb.

You being the naturally born go-getter that saw the window of opportunity and snatched it.

It was your forwardness that also made König struggle to not stumble over every slightly suggestive comment that you made about him.

That forwardness was also the reason he would become a whining, sweaty mess, his hands gripping onto the cushions of your couch as if you were trying to snatch his soul.

The deep moans that slipped from his throat made him sound like a modern-day porn star from how needy you were riding him.

His head slouched back with his eyes squeezed shut, saying your name as if it were a prayer.

Just the sight of him all unraveled and begging had added fuel to the fire that had been lit inside. "Uh—ah, I missed you so much," he would whimper from under you.

You understood that his field of career had him traveling for long months, possibly to a different country every night, with the possibility that he wouldn't come home to you alive.

Which was why every time he did it, you showed König how much you had truly missed him by fucking the shit out of him.

Holding him down against the mattress with the weight of your body as you rode him, each thigh spread, straddling his hips in place, you met the pace of his needy thrusts.

You wanted to savor moments like these forever, knowing that you were the only one allowed to see König so desperate like this and that you were the only person that had the power to distract him from the job that he dedicated his entire life to.

🔖 ?

tap here to be added to taglist.

literally was writing this in the emergency room minutes away from getting operated on, please my vitals nurse for pretending not to see my google docs sheet.

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ascesabo · 1 month

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sometimes i want to reach through the screen and shake sabo by the shoulders because. god. there's just so much going on with him.

he's first introduced through the veil of luffy's memories- here he's just another feral jungle kid, sticking it out with ace and luffy, the 'nicer' brother in young luffy's eyes. and then boom. you find out he's a runaway noble trying to escape his abusive, neglectful family- and this changes nothing, they still get to become sworn brothers, but just as quickly as this is resolved, his asshole of a dad takes the three of them hostage. and what does sabo do? he gives up the little sliver of freedom he'd fought for, is willing to become miserable and lonely again if it means ace and luffy are spared. and then he comes home to find that in his absence, his parents have already found a replacement! great!

and he doesn't even get to address how fucked up that is, because stelly runs his mouth and now sabo's too busy trying to figure out how to stop his brothers and their home from getting burnt to the ground. he never gets to give them a proper goodbye- he exhausts himself trying to reach them, but he can't because. you know. he's ten. so where does this leave sabo? ten years old, with nowhere to go- he sets out to sea to try and start over, and for the crime of wanting to escape a terrible life, he's punished with an explosion to the face. he loses his memories, his brothers lose him- and so the cycle continues.

then the army saves him, takes him in; he's essentially a child soldier, with how prodigious of a fighter he is from the get-go. but hey, he thinks he's finally found his footing, even if his past's a blur to him- then it all comes flooding back. in the worst way possible. he sees his brother's corpse and he remembers, but it doesn't matter, does it? he's too late, ace is gone, and sabo's lost ten years of a life he could have shared with his brothers. we don't even know how (if, even) he recovers from this- except for a single passing statement from koala, asking him if he's 'had that dream again' because he'd been crying in his sleep. this is never brought up or addressed again. great!plus, we never do find out if getting blown up at the ripe old age of ten could have left any lasting fire-related trauma; and if it does, what does that mean for sabo, who's pretty much made of it, now?

both of these questions are answered at once- sabo treats the fire as if it's ace. it's ace's legacy he's carrying on, and it's ace he seeks freedom for. he copes by making sure ace lives on in his flames, and how can he ever hate the fire living in him if that fire is all he has left of the brother he never got to see again?

i just have to wonder about him, because he's got so many Issues that just. don't ever get addressed? every time we see him deal with his grief (episode of sabo, his own retelling of events in dressrosa) we never really discover anything about him. i wonder how it felt to finally remember the childhood that eluded him, just to find out he was an unwanted, replacable child. how he feels, living with the knowledge that he could have done something to save ace, that he'd failed to remember the two people he loved the most? i wonder just how terribly that guilt must weigh down on him- because where luffy's already begun to heal, sabo still sees ace in everything he does. his title of flame emperor is a direct callback to ace's final attack in his fight against blackbeard. he talks to his goddamn fire like his brother is still in front of him, which is sweet and heartbreaking and, considering his backlog of unaddressed trauma... incredibly unhealthy. i know these will probably be left unresolved for the sake of moving the story forward- but god, sabo, are you okay?

#one piece #sabo #asl brothers #portgas d ace #revolutionary sabo #i cannot stop thinking about him #his grief is so. silent #blink and you'll miss it #i wonder if he'll ever be able to reconcile the person he is with the person he never got to be #or if he's just. going to brush it off because Everything Is Fine Obviously #i know he's explicitly stated that he won't live in grief because ace wouldn't want him to #but coming to that conclusion when he's probably had no time to heal #just looks a lot like him holding his fraying edges together with duct tape #my poor sabo #my princess ....#anywayyyy this is just me rambling pls dont mind

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runningmunson · 2 years

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So Much More

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader Word Count: 1.4k Summary: You experience another loss of yours and Aemond's child before they were born. Aegon insults you for it. Aemond is there to remind you that you are more than your ability to bear children. Warnings: TW- miscarriage (I tried not to be too graphic and more vague), blood, swearing, angst, comfort A/N: Did I write this as a way to help cope with my own trauma and from watching that awful scene in the beginning of episode 10? Absolutely

Masterlist

You woke up to a sensation of pain in your lower abdomen and a sticky feeling between your legs. One would think it was your normal blood cycle, but you knew better, seeing as you were with child, and that wasn’t supposed to happen. This was a feeling you grew to know all too well, having experienced it three other times. But when almost four moons had passed, you thought this finally meant one would stick. Oh, how wrong you were.

Aemond was still asleep, so you tried to be quiet, not wanting to worry him just yet. You couldn't bear seeing his face when he realized what was happening, so you allowed him to be unaware for a little while longer.

You moved your hand down, touching the warm liquid, and brought it to your face to confirm it was blood. You swung your legs over the bed and walked around the room to ease the pain.

All you could think about in this moment was the first time you met Aemond and his family at the announcement of your betrothal.

You bowed and greeted the Targaryen family, nervous to meet your soon-to-be lord husband and new family. When you got to Helaena, you could hear her mumbling but did not understand, “An empty womb too soon.”

You looked at her perplexed. Aegon rolled his eyes, “It would be best if you learned to just ignore my dear sister wife. She often says asinine things of little importance.”

A cry escaped your lips when the pain became too much, leaning on the table for support. Your husband was up in an instant at the sound. He took in your appearance and noticed the sweat that glistened on your forehead and your drenched nightgown. Your face was twisted in pain, and blood ran down your legs. It made him think back to the first time it happened and how traumatic it was for you both.

He was quick to be at your side and helped ease you into a chair. He stared at you wide-eyed, but his face was neutral for the most part. “How long has this been going on?”

“More than an hour, but I am not sure,” you grunted and placed your hands on your knees, leaning forward. “Please go get the midwife.”

He was about to protest, not wanting to leave you until he saw the fear in your eyes and decided it was best to keep quiet and do what you asked. It felt like forever when he finally returned with the midwife and two handmaidens hot on his heels. They got to work, making concoctions for the pain and wetting towels to help cool you down.

Most men would have left their wives when the midwives took over, but your husband was not like most men. He stayed by your side every time despite the pleas of the midwife to leave. He held your hand and whispered encouraging words that only you could hear. Whatever you needed, he got for you. With every step you took, he was right behind you, placing counterpressure on your back or giving you someone to lean on. He would gently run the cloth over your forehead and kiss away your tears.

—

It took all night and well into the afternoon until it was all over, and with it passed yet another child. The queen, unaware of what occurred, had requested your and Aemond’s presence for a family meal.

“I will let her know that we will not be in attendance,” he said as you lay in his embrace.

You shook your head, “That will not be necessary. We shall attend.”

“Have you lost your damn mind? You are still bleeding and in pain. You need to rest,” he demanded.

“What happened has already passed. There is nothing more we can do. No need to dwell on it and I need a distraction anyway, please,” you reasoned with him. He studied your face, knowing that you were only saying this as a way to cope. “Help me get cleaned up and dressed.”

Aemond made sure to send a servant to deliver a message of what happened to his mother so they do not bring up the child they still believed to be growing inside you. Once you were presentable, he helped you to the dining hall. You took a deep breath and opened the door.

All eyes were on you as you made your way to your seat. Aemond pulled your chair out and helped you sit before finding his way to the chair next to you.

Alicent turned to face you and grabbed your hand, “My sweet daughter, I am truly sorry for your loss.”

“Yes, sister. It is truly a horrible thing,” Helaena said to you. You gave them a small smile as a silent thank you for their condolences.

“I don’t get what the big deal is. Just make another one, fucking isn’t that hard,” Aegon’s words took everyone by surprise. It suddenly became incredibly hot. Your dress felt entirely too tight and suffocating.

“Aegon! That was very insensitive. You wouldn’t understand what it is like to endure that type of suffering,” his mother cried out.

He turned to look at you, a devilish grin on his face, “This is what? The 4th time? Absolutely worthless. Maybe she is doing it on purpose, but I guess I can’t say I blame my sister-in-law. No one in their right mind would willingly want to bear my brother’s children.”

Anger overtook Aemond as he stood from his seat and strode over to his brother, ripping him from his chair by his shoulders. He slammed Aegon against the wall, and his hand found its way to his throat.

“At least I don’t have bastard children running around King’s Landing, you self-righteous cunt,” Aemond spit out with his teeth bared. “It would be wise for you to never speak of my lady wife like that again because next time, I will not hesitate to kill you.”

“Aemond! Aegon! Stop this madness now!” their mother demanded. She signaled the guards to stop the impending fight. Ser Criston rushed over to pull Aemond off Aegon and move him further away. He ripped his arm away from Criston’s tight grip and turned around to find you already gone.

“You disgrace the Targaryen name,” he said, but Aegon just laughed. Aemond shook his head and walked off, pushing past his mother in search of you.

—

He found you in your chambers, sitting on the bed and staring at a spot of blood the handmaidens missed when cleaning. It was a sore reminder of what previously occurred. You turned to face him, tears pooling in your eyes.

“I am a failure. I can’t even do the one thing my body was made to do, the only purpose of my life,” you cried out. “I want to give you a baby, but all I give you is death.”

Aemond took your face in his hands as he made sure you were listening to every word he said, “That is enough from you, I don’t want to hear those cruel words spew from your mouth again. Do you understand?”

His eyebrow was furrowed and jaw clenched. You looked at him in shock, not expecting him to be so angry. He wiped your tears away and continued, “Do not minimize yourself to simply a woman whose only purpose is to be wed, bed, and bred. You are far more than that, my love. You are my wife, my companion, my equal. You are strong, smart, ambitious, and cunning. You are far braver than I could ever wish to be for what the gods have made you endure.”

“I know that you are being truthful, but I cannot help but be terrified that you will eventually stop loving me if I cannot give you one, I-” you tried to finish, but he shook his head and stopped you from talking.

“My love is not conditional upon how many children you bear me. I will love you all the same if you give me many or if you give me none. Your worth, my dear, will never be based on whether you become a mother. If the gods bless us with children, then I will love nothing more, but I will also thank them if they do not allow us that privilege because they gave me you. You are still worthy of a good and happy life. Do not forget that,” he spoke softly.

In a year's time, you were holding your newborn son in your arms, celebrating new life. You believed every word he said. You were not just a mother; you were so much more.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond x reader #hotd imagine #hotd #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen angst #house of the dragon x reader

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vivi-the-goblin · 2 months

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Just thinking about the poetic nature of the Gith

Originally, there was just one species that broke free of the mindflayers and turned to bloody rebellion. In the aftermath the Githyanki (those who follow Gith) formed a new militaristic culture based on their inherant superiority, while the Githzerai rebelled against becoming like thier old masters and left (those who spurn Gith). The Githyanki live in the Astral Sea, a place where nothing ages or changes unless change is forced upon it. The world is vibrant, sure, and it IS constantly changing, but only through force and intrusion.

The Githzerai live in Limbo, a land of infinite chaos where even the fabric of reality might turn from air to bread to napalm in a second. It is only through massive willpower and active dedication that you can craft anything, and that needs to be actively and constantly maintained.

The Githyanki have not changed. They became their old masters. They have slaves of their own. They're coping with the scars of their enslavement by making sure THEY'RE the ones on top this time. Though they still identify themselves around wiping out their old masters, the system never fell. tyranny just gained a new face and explanation. The same face, the leader has been the same bloodline even since those times beyond measure, with the current one being an undead immortal ruling for thousands of years, unaging even when in places that do change. Githyanki are forced to occasionally explore to have kids and let them grow to adulthood. But they leave the encampment only to plunder resources, keeping the kids as secluded as possible and dragging them back ASAP to double down on indoctrination. Nobody moves on, and the youth who attempt to are met with force.

The Githzerai have changed so much they're no longer the same species, even if they are still externally recognizable. They left for a land where everything changes. However, through introspection and dedication to ensuring personal freedom, they thrive. Specifically, it's from their leaders giving up that freedom to eternally power their chunk of safety in the storm. Literally sitting in a sarcophagus for eternity, the death of self. You'd think would be horrible, given the whole point was escape from eternal labor and gaining freedom! But the difference is that it's willing, it's their choice, one they were free to make or decline. They chose to make a home others could grow up in safely, a place that would still remain for them even if they left for a time. These elders are also don't age...but they're the ones who came to terms with their trauma, fought, and decided to move beyond. They even lost the initial war, but persisted and kept working to break the system. And they do so by supporting those that come next, trusting they'll keep fighting to stop this cycle of oppression.

The Githyanki are conquering the stars but haven't really moved an inch. The Githzerai are living in an ever-moving and actively hostile world, but came to terms with themselves and their past and moved ever forward.. Beautiful.

...

I'm also thinking about how the Githzerai names a city Susanowo. Like the brother of Amaterasu. Like, in-universe named that after actual スサノヲfrom actual Japan. Because Earth exists, and the various gods USED to exist there. An old empire kept kidnaping people from Earth, and the gods followed their believers but got stuck. I keep running into bits of lore that tie into that and it hits me like a truck every time.

#d&d #dnd #githyanki #githzerai

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nekokoaa · 11 months

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The Agreement - Miguel O'Hara x Therapist!Reader (I)

Summary: It was simple. No kissing. No sex. Hugs and hand-holding only. The goal was to help Miguel feel a little less lonely sometimes. That was your job as one of the therapists at HQ, to mentally stabilize everyone’s mind, including the boss’s.

In other words, you and Miguel make a deal.

Rated Explicit, fluff, smut

1.3K words | (1/5) chapters

Author's notes: Yes I came back just to jump on the Miguel train! :) I love Across the Spider-verse and I love Miguel. I just wanna comfort him and I’m sure you do too! Enjoy!

Also on AO3

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It started as an agreement and then came the first session. Honestly, you’ve seen your fair share of trauma being a therapist for Spider-people, hell, you’ve even gone through it yourself. Losing Aunt May, Peter L. Parker, and then Harry… you were never the same again. Yet you learned how to cope, how to survive. You made trauma your bitch and it was all due to understanding your psyche. And… also because of your Ph.D. in psychology. So it wasn’t a surprise that your schedule was always packed with various spider-people from different dimensions. Everyone wanted to know your secret. Everyone wanted to know how you were able to move on. It was the same story—different variations, sometimes in a different order. It was plaguing their minds, some coped by burying their heads in their work, others just lived with the guilt. But a few, like Miguel, were always reliving it.

Miguel O’Hara. Spider-Man 2099. You didn’t know much about him other than the fact that he was undergoing the same canon-event trauma as the other Spider-people. You didn’t know which ones since he never shared it in his first mandatory session. The only thing he was willing to share was his desire for a family and the mistake he made that cost an entire dimension to collapse.

Later, his sessions felt more like a briefing of your work, gauging the mental state of all spider-people to know if they're capable of working. You would always tell him the session was supposed to be about him but he would brush it off, saying he had too much work to do before leaving your office. And as always, you would watch his retreating back. His shoulders looked so broad, they could hold mountains—perhaps holding the weight of the multiverse could do that to you. A wise man once told you, “with great power comes great responsibility—strength, resilience.” But you knew what great power could also do to a man.

If the loneliness spewing from his demeanor wasn’t obvious enough.

Today it was your turn to enter Miguel’s office. Upside down, you tread along the ceiling, your hair obeying gravity and hanging limply in the air.

His office was mostly dark with an orange glow from the holograms in front of his monitors. You didn’t miss when he quickly swiped one of them away, his back stilling.

You were sure Miguel already knew you were here.

You lowered yourself with your web, turning your body upright until your feet reached the floor of the floating platform. He turned his head, not enough to look at you but enough to acknowledge your presence. His shoulders look wider— trembling even.

Sadness? You stepped forward and he turned back to face the monitors, fingers tapping away against the orange holograms. No, it was anger.

Minutes went by of silence until Miguel’s hands dramatically dropped to his sides, sighing. “What are you doing here?”

You smiled lightly, stepping forward. “Our first session, remember?”

“Don’t tell me you were serious about that,” he spitted out, hands returning to the holograms. He was investigating an anomaly that appeared on Earth-55, it was probably that villain belonging to Earth-1001. Lately, he’s been jumping from dimension to dimension, and not because he had the ability to do so. Miguel’s been tracking him down for days and trying to figure out what could be causing the rifts in the dimensions.

Meaning: he hasn’t been getting any sleep.

Miguel was a spider-man shouldering the very existence of all spider-people universes. With the connections of fate being as fragile as a spider’s web, a day of rest could be detrimental.

To feel as though you’re the only Spider-Man in the room while being surrounded by spider-people who understood you the most was a feeling Miguel was too familiar with. He never mentioned it in his sessions but you could see it in how he carried himself in front of his agents, how he stared at Peter B and Mayday, and how he looked when you first caught him rewatching himself with “his” daughter. Certainly, he was reliving his trauma.

“Of course,” you stepped forward until you stood directly behind him. His body stilled when your arms slowly encircled his waist. You could feel his muscles tensing. His fingers froze in the air. The orange glow from the holograms deepened like it was spreading to your bodies. “Weren’t you?”

You whispered and Miguel didn’t say a thing. Of course, he was warm like you imagined when you were preparing yourself for this. The scowl on his face often gave an impression that he was as cold as he looked. But he was very much alive like the rest of you—alive with emotions.

When you suggested he seek affection from someone to mend his trauma (that he never admitted having), he looked at you dumbfounded.

“Sometimes all we need is a hug, maybe a hand to hold to get rid of those troublesome feelings.”

And when you suggested that “someone” could be you, Miguel thought you were losing your sanity. It was no easy feat to convince him of the agreement. It took a few weeks until you got a very very annoyed “Okay” from him, probably to stop you from always bringing it up whenever you saw him.

It was simple. No kissing. No sex. Hugs and hand-holding only. The goal was to help Miguel feel a little less lonely sometimes. That was your job as one of the therapists at HQ, to mentally stabilize everyone’s mind, including the boss’s.

You rested your head against the middle of his back, arms tightening around him. You expected him to say something but he stayed silent, reddish-brown eyes staring into the monitors. It wasn’t just Miguel who was warm, but the space around you too—like the energy had shifted the moment you touched him.

Your skin under your suit started to prickle as if it was being pinched. The orange tinge of the holograms slowly blended into a deep red, the temperature rising as sweat appeared at your temple. Miguel could probably feel your heart rattling against his back. But like a rock, his muscles tensed up and his hands closed into fists.

Everything in your mind was telling you to let him go but you held on despite sensing the anger rising within him. Since losing his “daughter”, Miguel had closed himself to affection. Usually responding in annoyance or anger if he were to receive it. He had accepted his destiny long ago of being a loner. And any ounce of affection reminded him of his loss—and what he could lose.

Miguel’s hand moved on top of yours. Hissing in pain, you pulled your arms away from his body and immediately looked at your hand. His claws had pricked you. Thankfully, there was no blood.

“Session’s over, doc. That’s enough.” His voice was laced with venom. This time he partly turned to look at you and your heart sank seeing his deep red eyes. The outline of his figure was stained by the burgundy hue of the holograms. Perhaps the trauma of Miguel O’Hara was deeper than you thought. Your spidey senses were telling you to get out of there. This time you listened.

“Okay,” you shot your web towards the ceiling, quickly propelling yourself up and out of his office. Miguel sighed, burying his head in his hands before returning to his work.

Next Chapter

#miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara x you #marvel #sony #spider man: across the spider verse #spider man: into the spider verse #fanfiction #fluff #angst #smut

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eatmangoesnekkid · 26 days

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Do not run from life's initiations. Be that mature woman--and accept your journey. Do not waste your life (force) energy hanging your head in defeat or despair, comparing and contrasting, or wishing things were different for you. As a darker-pigmented woman, as a Black woman, I have always known that my incarnation came with a great set of obstacles, an initiation I graciously accepted early-on. I deeply adore every new step, every quiet difficulty, every intimacy, every new narrative, every next level mastered. This lifetime —and all of the obstacles, discomforts, hardships, trauma, heartbreak, and diagnoses that we get to unravel and move beyond —are gifts! Those who have experienced some of the greatest oppression always have the highest magic and power to remember and retrieve back. It's really good news if you accept your life experiences as initiations and don't run from them or stay stuck in your obsessions, addictions and other conditioned coping patterns. -India Ame'ye, Author

Loved Ones, you know there are levels to this game of life. The next level is when you start to realize that there is no better or worse, greater or less. You are the oppressor and the oppressed. You have to begin to see how the oppressor lives in your body. You are the lover and beloved. You have to begin to see how your future beloved lives in your body. Everything is within us all, even when it’s difficult or comfortable. Mainly what we are carrying forward are the stories and judgments we hold onto that give value metrics and assign meaning and combined, they influence our future creations in usually undesirable ways. We have to unwind, unbind, and peel back a lot of the cultural and intergenerational patterns we internalized about what it means to be who we are based on the stories of powerless we have been through sold and told. That's a more advanced teaching lesson around "neutrality" though for the real players :). -India

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builtbybrokenbells · 4 months

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CAPITAL VICES | JACOB T. KISZKA

Jacob Thomas Kiszka: the eighth, undiscovered, most deadly sin of all.

Masterlist

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 19k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex, fingering (f!receiving), oral (f!receiving) mentions of oral (m!receiving), sir kink, dom/sub, praise, dirty talk, biting, nipple play, degradation, very brief mention/phrase of free use kink, overstimulation, spanking, name calling, ANGST, mentions of breakups/heartbreak, depression, anxiety, sadness, graphic description of grief/grieving, loss of a parent, mentions of cheating/toxic relationships, past trauma with relationships, mentions of abusive relationships/physical violence, mentions of dying/death, mentions of addiction/withdrawal/drugs, fluff, drinking, swearing, sorry if i miss any!!!

you guys didn’t really think I’d end it there, did you? ;) i did tell a little while lie and say wrath was the last chapter, but I didn’t technically say ‘the end’ 🤍 I apologize for leaving you hanging, and I hope this makes up for it! as always, be kind, enjoy, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes!! (Very lightly edited)

Forget, move on, move forward.

That was the mantra you had been repeating to yourself for days. The sound was nearly sickening now, and the only reason you had not abandoned it was because it was stuck in your head. It was not helping, and it definitely was not working, but you were so deep in despair that you hoped it would eventually make the difference. You were desperate for any type of relief, for none of your usual coping mechanisms were working. The more the time passed, the more you were beginning to think that you would never recover from the loss of Jake Kiszka. You could not look at your piano, and you could not get out of bed for long enough to even think about readying yourself for the bar. All of your most comforting television shows had turned bleak, and the thought of playing music made you sick.

Well, all but one particular band, at least.

One sleepless night, you grew annoyed with your own relentless tossing and turning. After moving to the couch and turning your television on, you realized that not even the sound of Shameless, or more specifically, Frank Gallagher’s drunken babbling could pry a laugh from you. You switched to Brooklyn Nine-Nine, wondering if maybe a goofy comedy would settle the unbearable misery, but it only seemed to worsen your sadness. With one last shred of hope, you pulled out your phone that was lacking any messages like usual, and you opened your Spotify account.

You took a deep breath as you typed the three words into the search bar, and you felt like you were punched in the stomach when the picture of Jake and his three brothers graced your screen.

Of course, you would notice Jake first. He always came first.

You listened to Jake’s music for the first time that night, and instead of sharing the memory with him, you had to digest the intimacy you had previously denied yourself whilst trying to forget him. You promised that it would only be one time, and that if you only listened to one song, it would curb the need you held for him in your heart.

But, as you learned before in the hardest way imaginable, promising and following through are two completely different things, and it did not stop at a single song. By the time the sun rose in the sky, you were a mess of tears as you finished up the last few songs on their discography. Instead of turning your phone off and moving on, you put it on loop and leaned your head against the arm of the couch. One particular song caught your attention as it began playing, and it drew you in even further as the melodic guitar solo began. By minute three, your eyes were heavy, and not long after that, you were sound asleep.

When you woke in the morning from the best sleep you had in weeks, you were still hearing the soft sounds of Jake’s guitar. You swore you would turn it off and move on, but as you stretched and stood from your position on the couch, you let the melodies carry you through morning coffee and a long, overdue shower. Since then, it always seemed to be playing in the background while you tried to survive life without him.

A few days after the final breakup, Scott had sent you a message inviting you out for lunch. He was curious about how the night went after the blowout at the restaurant, and you couldn’t blame him. He sacrificed his own pride to help you find happiness, and the more you thought about it, the more appealing friendship with him seemed. You needed something to break up the monotony of sadness, and you knew that calling your sister was the last thing you wanted to do. You loved her, and she had always been your best friend, but you could not recount the mistakes you had made to lead you here. It would kill you to relive all of the sweetness and eventually, all of the heartbreak.

So you agreed, but it was all but happily. You made plans for a Saturday afternoon, exactly one week after you had called it quits with Jake. You thought that maybe by the time it rolled around, you would be more excited at the prospect of leaving the house considering you’d spent seven whole days inside, wallowing in your own misery. When you woke up that morning, it felt like lead was weighing down your limbs and you cursed yourself for ever making the plans in the first place. You forced yourself through a shower, but had to sit down on the side of the tub for ten minutes to regain your strength before getting dressed. You picked a hoodie that you’d stolen from your dads closet a long time ago, hoping that it would help you feel closer to him. You had been missing him more than you had in a very long time. You squeezed into a pair of jeans, debating whether to change into sweatpants, but eventually convinced yourself to wear them anyway.

You returned to the bathroom to dust on some makeup, hoping to cover the deep eye-bags and pale skin. About halfway through, you realized that there was not enough makeup in the world to cover up your heartbreak. You put on some lipgloss and sprayed some perfume, finishing just in time to hear the doorbell. With a sigh of defeat, you abandoned your reflection to greet Scott. You trudged to the front door, unlocking the knob and swinging it open to reveal his smiling face. He was much more relaxed than he was the weekend prior, and his clothes were not nearly as fancy. Relief flooded you when you realized that this was, in fact, just a friendly meal.

“Good afternoon, Sunshine.” He chuckled, first noticing your solemn face. You had given him a brief rundown of the situation the night before through a poorly written text so he knew what he was walking into, but you feared that it did not even come close to the way you were truly feeling. In truth, you had been texting quite often, and you weren’t sure that any of it made sense. Still, he was smiling, happily radiating positivity in hopes of making you feel better.

“Not much that’s good about it.” You grumbled, grabbing your purse from the hook by the door. You double checked for your phone and keys before nodding your head in the direction of his car. Your pessimism was staggering, but it did not seem to phase him.

“There’s lots of good,” he tried, stepping out of the way to allow you outside. “You get to see me. That’s good, is it not?” He raised an eyebrow, watching as you locked your door.

“You give yourself too much credit.” He chuckled at your grumpy expression, brushing off your insults like it was nothing.

“You look nice.” He said, placing a hand on your shoulder as you both made your way to the car.

“Thank you,” you said, giving him a small smile. You knew you should not be so harsh with him; he only wanted to help, and you should be grateful for that. When you missed Jake so badly, it made it hard to think of anything other than the sound of your broken heart. “You, too.”

“You have any idea where we should go?” He asked, opening your door for you. You climbed inside, trying to ignore the turn of your stomach at the thought of food. When he got in next to you, he was still waiting for a response.

“Do you remember that little cafe we used to go to in high school?” You asked, suddenly recalling the little spot that you spent so much time together in all those years ago.

“With the two dollar sandwiches?” He asked, laughing at the idea.

“Yeah, and the best grilled cheese in the whole world.” You added, making sure he remembered that fact. “It’s a little bit of a drive, but I haven’t been there in forever.”

“I’m down,” he said, putting the car in reverse and pulling out on the road “I’ve got all day.” He looked down at the radio, reaching out and grabbing a cord. He tossed the aux in your direction and turned the speakers up a notch. “I haven’t been to that diner in a long time, either. We used to go there every day.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “you, me, Seth and Katie Haynes.” You tried to hide the sneer in your voice when you spoke the names.

“Fuck, yes! I forgot about her.” He shook his head in disbelief at his own memory.

“I sure didn’t.” You leaned back in the seat, clicking on the seat warmer in hopes of soothing your aching body. Laying in bed nonstop finally seemed to be taking a toll on you. “Maybe I should have clued in that Seth wasn’t the one when I caught them fucking in my bedroom at my own house.”

“Not to say I told you so, but…” you rolled your eyes, reaching over and giving him a light smack on the arm.

“You know, that’s like rule number one of what not to say when you’re trying to cheer someone up.”

“Oh, I know.” He laughed. “That wasn’t to make you feel better; I just like being right.” It was crazy how fast the two of you seemed to rekindle the friendship that was once so strong. It made you regret losing contact with him, and you thought that if you had been friends with him the whole time, life might have seemed a little less lonely.

“Some things never change.” You sighed, looking out the window as he drove. For a little while, the two of you sat in silence. You admired the city and how it continued on as normal despite you feeling like the world was ending. It was a terrible thing to know that the sun would continue to rise and fall even while you felt like you were dying. You turned on your phone, finding yourself sick of the sad music floating through the stereo. You looked through playlist after playlist, but could not seem to find one that sounded appealing to you. When you grew sick of scrolling your phone in search of a song to play, you gave up and hit shuffle on your recently listened songs, and the first note that played was equal to a punch straight to the stomach.

“Oh, who’s this?” He asked, intrigued at the old-timey sound of the guitar.

“Uh, it’s called ‘Built By Nations’.” You muttered, trying to tune out the guitar and focus on Josh’s voice.

“Who’s it by?” He asked again, his original question being left unanswered.

“My ex and his brothers.” You confessed, You cheeks searing with heat.

“A musician in Nashville, y/n? Come on.” He implored you to think your decision out again.

“I know, I know.” You sighed. “Definitely wasn’t my smartest decision, but I’m suffering now, am I not?”

“Fair enough.” He laughed, taking the cutoff to the road that housed your old High School.

You were hit with a whirlwind of memories as he slowed down, likely feeling the same as you were in that moment. You strained to look out at the football field, and laughed to yourself as you saw the old sign that displayed the name. It was falling apart with some of the letters missing, but it was familiar, and it was comforting. You didn’t hate high school, but you did hate the life events that happened while attending. It seemed to sour the whole experience, but as you thought back on it, you knew it was not nearly as bad as you made it out to be.

“If you could go back for a day, would you?” He asked, looking over at you as the sight passed you by.

“I think so.” You nodded. “Would you?”

“Oh, for sure.” He chuckled, no doubt in his mind about it. With that, he turned down another side road, and within seconds, you were in front of the diner that was a staple of your childhood. He pulled into the half-full lot, and not long after that, the two of you were walking inside. Immediately, you were drawn to the corner booth in which you’d spent so many hours in. It was empty, just like it was meant for you two to sit there. You took to one side, and he slid in the other. You placed your phone in your purse and threw it down beside you, looking around the small area and reminiscing on the memories made in that very spot.

“Let me guess, bacon cheeseburger and not one, but two cokes to go with it. And one to go.” You grinned, looking over at his face as he laughed at your words.

“You know me so well, sunshine.” He admitted to it without argument; he got the same thing every day of senior year despite having a whole menu to choose from. “And you’ll get a grilled cheese with tomatoes on it, because you’re weird.”

“Tomatoes aren’t weird.” You scoffed. “You don’t think that ten months worth of ordering cheeseburgers is weird?”

“Yeah, whatever.” He waved you off. “So, tell me what happened.”

“Eager much?” You raised an eyebrow.

“I’ve waited a whole week to hear how it went, I think I’ve been plenty patient about it.”

“Fine,” you sighed, giving a shrug. “We fought in the parking lot, and on the drive home, and at my house. We said some mean things, stuff that we can never take back no matter how hard we try, then it went back to normal for a little while.” Normal was a strange description when it was referring to angry sex in your kitchen, but it fit the bill for you and Jake. Sex was the most normal thing about your relationship aside from the sadness, and occasionally, a wordless ‘I love you’. “It was nice, but I think that once the situation settled and I had a moment to think about everything, it just… it didn’t seem right.”

“What didn’t seem right?” He asked, hoping you would be more specific.

“All of it, you know? Like, we aren’t even dating and we’ve been hurting each other’s feelings and fighting. I can only imagine what it would be like if we were together.” He gave a small laugh, shaking his head slightly as you spoke. “What? What’s funny?”

“You, sunshine. You’ve always been so stubborn.” You opened your mouth to argue back, but he held up his hand as if to say he wasn’t finished. With a huff, you held back your words. “You guys are fighting because you’re feelings are hurt, whatever, it happens and it’s no big deal. Why are your feelings hurt, y/n?”

“Because he said the only thing I was good for was sex, and then he was all sweet and nice once we made up, but invited another girl on a date? How can you make up with someone and say that you care about them, then kiss another girl like it’s nothing?”

“Just the same as how you can take another guy on a date while you’re in love with him.” He shrugged, knowing he had you in a stalemate.

“I’m not in love with him!” Your voice was shrill, reacting as if the word was poison being forced down your throat. You were lying through your teeth, and even you knew how untruthful your words were.

“Oh, cut the shit, sunshine.” He rolled his eyes, pausing for a moment as the waitress approached you. He gave her a warm smile and ordered for both of you, and within minutes, she was on her way. “You’ve been moping around your house for a week because you broke up with your sort of boyfriend that you’re absolutely not in love with?” When he said it in such a way, you could clearly see how stupid you sounded. With a sigh of defeat, you gave in to the urge to speak the truth.

“Okay, fine, I love him.” Even as you said it, your whole body felt as if it was trying to reject the confession. You shuddered at the word and your palms broke out into a sweat. You ran them across the fabric of your jeans as you tried to calm yourself down. “I do, but I don’t want to, and it scares the shit out of me.”

“Why does it scare you?” He asked, taking a drink from one of the cokes the waitress dropped off. You sipped at the coffee she left behind for you.

“He’s the first person I’ve been with since I left Seth.” You confessed. “I mean, I’ve had one night stands, but never with anyone like him. It’s never been anything like this.”

“It’s never been with someone you’ve cared about.” He deducted.

“Yeah,” You nodded. “When I left Seth, I promised that I would never be with someone like that again. I never wanted anyone to have that type of power over me, and I didn’t want to get close to someone again just to realize that they’re a monster in disguise. It’s easier to be alone than to be alone while in a relationship, and I don’t ever want to suffer that way again.” You stirred some sugar into the mug, watching as the liquid formed a small whirlpool around the metal utensil. “When Jake and I first met, we were both on the same page, but somewhere along the way, the lines got blurred. I’m not innocent, either, and I know that. I was playing house with him and pretending like nothing was wrong, and then he started talking about wanting more, and it scared me so much that I ran. Well, no,” you chuckled “I backed him into a corner and forced him to run.”

“Why are you so scared of him, though? I mean, after this long, and after all of the shit you put each other through, you would be able to see that he’s bad, wouldn’t you?” He played with the paper wrapper that was previously encased around his straw, peeking up from his hands to catch your gaze.

“Maybe? I don’t know.” You sighed, your shoulders slumping with the weight of your emotions. “I’m not scared of him, per say. I’m scared of love, and I’m scared of getting hurt, and I’m scared of losing another person that I care about.”

“Is this about Seth, or is this about your dad?” He asked, voice as quiet as a mouse. He seemed afraid to ask, but more than that, he seemed afraid of your response.

You were stunned for a moment, and the flood of emotion that ran through you was more powerful than anything you’d ever felt. If it were anyone else sitting before you asking that dreaded question, you would have stood and screamed, thrown things from the table just to make a scene and show them how uncalled for the moment was. Instead, you gave a slow blink, but you did not do any of the things you wanted to. While you processed his words, you were plagued with a lifetimes worth of memories that involved the boy sitting across from you. Memories of him holding you while you screamed and cried in your childhood bedroom, clutching your fathers last worn t-shirt tightly to your chest. Memories of his hand in yours while you zombied your way through the funeral proceedings, and memories of him being the only person in the world who could pry a smile from your face while being plagued with such grief.

Even worse than that, there was memories of him sitting at the kitchen table with your father, talking about the football game that aired on television the night before. Ones where Scott would not just drive you to the hospital to visit your father while he succumbed to sickness, but where he walked into the morbid building and sat beside you, your sister and your mother while you tried to cheer your father up during his last days on earth. Scott was allowed to ask that question, not just because of how familiar he was with your grief, but because he grieved, too. Scott may have been a face that was forgotten along with the past, but he was not one that became insignificant. You fought tooth and nail to remove yourself from the life you lived so long ago, but a bond like such carried through until the end of time.

Your heartbreak from Jake may have done more damage than good, but there is always light that shines in the dark. Your breakup allowed for you to sit across the table at a fabled diner with your best friend for the first seventeen years of life. Your time away may have allowed you to forget how much of you he’d seen, but your heart could never forget the importance of his presence.

Instead of screaming, you nodded your head, telling him all you refused to say aloud. He was the only person who you would trust with such things, and despite your unwillingness to speak about it, you knew that he already knew the answer. Seth held little power over you anymore, and your fear of Jake turning out like him was ridiculous, but your dad? He was everything to you. He lived in every decision, every waking moment and thought that crossed your mind. He was a part of every heartbreak and triumph, and his advice rang in your ears every time you second-guessed yourself. The fear of disappointing him was true even after his death, and if anything, it only ever got worse.

More than that, his death crushed you. It left you lying on the floor, cursing every higher power and questioning the very universe that created you. It destroyed any hope and any sense of purpose, and it stole the happiness straight from your chest before it ever had the chance to bloom. You were familiar with loss, but despite it being an acquaintance, it was your own mortal enemy. You knew that it existed, and that it was always looming, but you lived your life in such a way that loss could not touch you. You never let people get too close, and you cut them off before they tried. You distanced yourself from everyone you loved most in hopes of sparing yourself the pain, and you could not even allow yourself to get a pet in anticipation of the crushing grief to come when it was their time to pass on.

The idea of loving Jake scared you so much that it shook you to the core, disrupting your entire life and forcing you to lock him out. The fear did not stem from your inability to love, or because you could not trust your own judgement of his character, but because you could not handle it if he were to suddenly get up and leave. You could not choke down the idea of loving someone enough to hurt after they were gone, and since your father died, no loss could ever come close to the pain you had felt from his death. Now, you knew that Jake leaving was the only pain in the world that could rival the one you had felt so many years ago, housed in your childhood home that held only a ghost of the man you loved most.

“Of course it is, Scott. It’s always about him.” Your throat was dry like you had just screamed out, and your eyes burned as if tears had ran them dry, but none of those things happened; the grief was so plentiful that it had bled you dry, and now it was the only thing to exist within your veins. “I can’t love him because I cannot imagine losing someone again. I can’t imagine how much it would hurt if he walked away, or if… yeah.”

“You don’t have to imagine it, sunshine.” He said, giving you a sympathetic smile. “You’re feeling it right now.”

“I know I am, but I keep trying to convince myself that hurting right now will save me from something worse later on.” You rubbed your face in your hands, wiping away non-existent tears. You felt like you were crying, and you knew you should be, but there seemed to be no tears left to cry.

“Or you’re holding yourself back from the best thing you’ve ever felt.” He offered the alternative, pausing the conversation while the waitress sat your food in front of you. He muttered a thank you, and once again, she was on her way. “Sure, leaving first ensures that he can’t leave you, but it also kills any possibility of happiness. What you’re doing right now limits you from a world of good; everything good comes with risk, y/n, and from what you’re telling me, he seems worth the risk.”

“He is. He’s worth it all.” You nodded, biting into a French fry. Despite your sorrow, you felt better than you had in days. “And I am worried about that pain, because I’m scared I can’t survive it again, but what I’m worried about most is that I’m too broken for him to handle. I don’t know how to love someone, Scott. It’s been five years since I’ve even let someone stay in my life for more than a weekend. Maybe I did all of those years ago, but not anymore. I’m angry, and I’m stubborn, and I’m more work than I’m worth. It’s not fair to him, and as much as I fear him breaking my heart, I’m even more afraid of breaking his.” You explained. “He’s been hurt, too. He deserves the world, and I’m not the person that can give it to him. He needs someone who has their shit together, and I’ve never once had all of my ducks in a row.”

“You can’t make that decision for him, y/n.” He said, taking a bite from his own meal. He let the words sit with you for a moment before speaking again. “I know you, and all you’ve ever wanted to do was protect people. It’s incredibly amicable, but sometimes you have to let them choose for themselves. To me, it sounds like he thinks you’re worth the risk, too.”

“I can’t do that to him.” You shook your head. “Sure, he’s choosing for himself, but I don’t think he knows what he’s getting into.”

“After this long, he knows, y/n, and he doesn’t care.” He assured you. “Listen, I know how guys think: if he was in this for any lesser purpose, he would have left a long time ago. If he did not care about you, he would not have shown up at the restaurant that night. That look in his eye was more than jealousy; it was the type of love that drives you insane. Don’t think you breaking up with him will get rid of that.”

“How do I stop being afraid?” You asked, in disbelief of the fact that he thought it was simple. “I’ve been afraid my whole life, it’s not just something I can turn off, even if I wish it was.”

“You never stop being afraid, sunshine. You just have to love each other enough that it doesn’t matter anymore.”

The meal went by without any further talks of Jake or your last heartbreaks. Instead, you filled the air with jokes and laughter, and gratitude for being in each others lives again. Although your relationship was rekindled for poor reasons, you were still thankful that you got the chance to be around him again. When the check came, you fulfilled your promise to repay him for the dinner cut short. When you climbed back into his car, you felt dread settle in your stomach. You weren’t ready to go home; you had been alone for days, and while that was something you normally loved, you’d now grown to hate it. You felt so happy to be with company that the idea of going home to an empty house sickened you. Worse yet, you did not know if you could go back and suffer through your relentless thoughts about Jake.

The drive home was filled with loud music, both of you singing along at the top of your lungs. You managed to convince him to stop at a coffee shop, claiming that you needed more caffeine to survive the day, but it was only to avoid the inevitable. When you made it back to the suburbs that you called home, your body felt heavy with the weight of your own loneliness. He pulled into your driveway, slowly rolling the car to a stop before he put it into park.

“Thank you, Scott.” You mumbled, looking down at your hands settled in your lap.

“No need for thanks,” he brushed you off “I hope I helped.”

“You did.” You nodded. “I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I definitely feel better.”

“You don’t need to know right now.” He assured you. “You can take all the time you need; it’s your life, sunshine.”

“You’re right.” You breathed, forcing a smile on to your face. “I’m sorry things ended up like this. It wasn’t my intent for you to be my own personal therapist.”

“It was meant to work out like this.” He shrugged. “I’m just happy I get to see you again. Watching your life through limited Facebook posts was sad. I missed my friend, and that’s the biggest reason I asked you out.”

“I missed you, too. I think I would really like it if we hung out more often.” You confessed. “I’ve been far too isolated. I’m too young to be so afraid of being alive.”

“You’re right,” he agreed, leaning across the seats to give you a hug. You rested in his arms for a moment, soaking up all of the physical contact you could before having to retreat inside. “I’ll see you soon?” He asked, pulling back just enough to catch sight of your face.

“Of course. Thank you again.” You gave him one last smile before making your departure, feeling your stomach sink more with every step you took towards the front door.

You had no idea what to do, and a part of you felt like you should call Jake and at least apologize for all that happened. Still, there was a bigger, more stubborn part of you that still believed he was better off without you. Once you locked the door and you were safely inside, you heard Scott pull out of your driveway and begin his journey home. You kicked off your shoes and threw your purse down on your kitchen counter. You reached into the pocket of your sweater, letting your fingers linger on your phone for a moment. You wanted to pull it out, to dial Jake’s number from memory and confess everything your heart felt for him. For a while, you sat in the kitchen, clutching your phone and unable to find the strength to go any further.

You loved him, but you loved him enough that you could not bear the thought of dragging him down with you. He was too good, and you were too much. The thought alone made tears pool in your eyes and your bottom lip begin to quiver. You wondered if your dad was looking down on you, proud of you for being the bigger person, or if he was disappointed in you for letting another good thing pass you by.

Then, the most painful thought of all struck you out of nowhere: he would never get the chance to meet Jake and grow to love him like you did.

You knew your father would be Jake’s biggest fan; his kind heart and his lax attitude was loveable no matter who he was using it on, and his love of music and talent on the guitar would win your dad over indefinitely. Jake was the type of guy your father had begged you to fall in love with, but he surely did not anticipate you being too broken to love him back.

Suddenly, the thoughts and the feelings got to be too much and you had to force yourself out of them. Instead of calling Jake, you shut off your phone. Instead of being the bigger person and confessing your love, you climbed into bed fully clothed and searched for the scent of him in your bedsheets. Instead of growing up and forgetting your fear, you closed your eyes and fell asleep while trying to remember what it felt like to have his arm wrapped around you.

When you woke, the sun was no longer shining through the window. Instead, the moonlight was plentiful and it casted a white glow over your bedroom, illuminating the sadness and the emptiness that now lived inside. You were groggy, barely within the plane of existence, but you tried your best to shake off the feeling. You were certain you heard a soft thud sound from the kitchen, but you chalked it up to you remaining amidst a dream despite being conscious, now. You tumbled from your bed, planting your feet firmly on the floor as you stretched out your arms and let out a yawn. When you stepped out of your room and into the bathroom to brush your teeth, you thought that you heard the sound again. You brushed it off, knowing that the likelihood of it being anything important was slim. The idea of someone knocking on your door was laughable, and you did not want to torture yourself by checking to see and being met with nothing.

You rinsed your mouth and wiped away the specs of mascara that had fallen underneath your eyes. You let out a sigh at your reflection, grabbing a a makeup wipe and ridding yourself of all the makeup. You washed your face and moved on to the kitchen, where you grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the fridge and began pouring yourself a glass. It had become a nightly routine, and you knew that with a few shots, you’d be back to sleep in no time.

As you dropped the ice into your glass you heard the noise again, but stronger this time. It caught your attention so fast that you could not doubt that it was real. You wondered if Scott had driven back to your side of town to check on you, or if maybe your mother had come over to see if you were alive. You had been ignoring her calls and messages, and although you knew you should answer, you could not bring yourself to do it. You took a sip of your drink before stepping towards the door, using it as a bit of courage to face another social interaction. Your fear of being alone no longer existed, and the longer you stayed holed up in your house, the more tempting isolation seemed.

You unlocked the deadbolt and the knob, wondering who would be here so late at night if not for a friend. Lately, friends were scarce and you had little idea who could be there. When you opened the door fully, getting a clear view of who was on the other side, you nearly fell to your knees. You were frozen, stuck staring at his face as you processed the fact he was really standing there, the corners of his lips upturned into a small, breathtaking smile. He seemed just as happy to see you, but he did not make a move to greet you first. Eventually, you mustered enough courage to speak.

“Hi,” you breathed, completely taken aback by the boy in front of you. After days of missing him, wondering if you would ever be lucky enough to see him again, you had a hard time believing that the man before you was real. In some strange way, it felt like he was a figment of your exhausted and worn down imagination. You feared that if you reached out and touched him, he would disappear before your very eyes. You did not want to be met with any more disappointment, because in the last week, that was all you felt. If he were to suddenly fade away, you thought that you might not be able to survive it. The sight of his face was the most comforting thing you had seen since he was last with you, and the knowledge that he was still thinking of you made you weak in the knees.

“Hi, sweetheart.” He said, giving you a soft smile. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah, of course.” You nodded, stepping out of the way to allow him inside. You tried not to think about the butterflies running rampant in your belly at the sound of the pet name. He stepped towards you, out of the warm night air and into the comfort of your home that he’d grown so used to. You watched his face, dazed at his beauty and wondering how you ever forced yourself to let him go. He had a bag slung over his shoulder and a look in his eyes that you could not place. You weren’t sure if you’d ever seen it before, but you liked it more than you cared to admit.

Then, before he spoke again, you had a sudden sense of dread wash over you; he was likely only there to retrieve his clothing he had left behind. The ache in your chest at the thought was unbearable, but you forced yourself to remain calm and allow him to do what he needed to do.

“You’re here to get your stuff?” You asked, trying to hide your feelings of frustration and sound as cheerful as possible. If only you could tell him how much you cared, maybe he wouldn’t clear out the only remaining memories of your relationship. You hated how much you had grown to like his life being intertwined with your own in such ways. He furrowed his eyebrows, looking over your face as he tried to place the emotion behind your eyes.

“No, angel.” He chuckled, dropping his bag down on the floor. You listened to the sound, realizing that if anything, it sounded quite full. A rush of relief ran through you, even if you knew you should have wanted him to clear out all of his belongings. It was for the best, even if you did not want him to leave again, especially for good.

“Oh,” you breathed, trying to compute what was happening. “So… why are you here?” You hated that it came out so harsh, and it was not at all what you were intending, but it did get your point across clearly. You were confused, you were still hurting, and more than anything, you wanted to know what his intent was.

He stepped closer to you, so close that you could feel the heat radiating from his body. Then, he reached up, letting the knuckle of his index finger softly caress your cheek. You let your eyes flutter closed at the feeling, the sensation intoxicating and when mixed with the scent of his cologne, deadly. He tucked your hair behind your ear as he noticed pieces falling from the messy bun sat atop your head. After that, his hand drifted towards your neck, settling gently on the back of it as he drew you closer to him.

You were too weak to fight him, and too tired to care. You missed his comfort more than anything, and you did not want to deny yourself the pleasure after you had suffered so much.

“You look tired, sweetheart.” He said, studying your face. He could see the dark circles forming, and the fire in your eyes he loved so much now seemed dim, nearly burnt out. Your head was upturned to meet his gaze, and he was looking down at you. In another universe, you would even go as far as to say that the two of you seemed to fit together with perfect harmony. “Have you been sleeping?”

“Not really.” You shook your head ever so slightly, fighting the urge to reach out and touch him. You noticed the same tell-tale signs in his own features. “Have you?”

“No.” He said, still staring intently at your face. He missed it so much that he was trying to memorize every detail all over again. Unintentionally, you felt yourself leaning into him. His face was so close, and your eyes were begging to close as you pulled him in for a kiss. He felt it just as much, and he was hoping you would cross the invisible boundary you had drawn for yourself. You were in such close proximity that you could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, drawing you in further. The tip of your nose brushed against his, sending jolts of electricity through your whole body.

It was so good that you almost fell victim to him once again.

“Jake,” you breathed, pulling back from him and placing a soft hand on his chest so he would keep his distance. The separation was painful, but necessary. “We can’t do this. Friends don’t do this.” Tears pricked your eyes at the term of friendship, but you managed to blink them away before any slipped onto your cheeks.

“Right,” he sighed, nodding against you and accepting your words. Before you knew it, he had stepped out of reach and you were left wishing that you never spoke at all. You watched him move away from you, still questioning if you were dreaming or of conscious mind. For a second, you feared that he would walk towards the door and out of your life again. The grief at the thought alone was debilitating. Then, he bent down and unzipped the top of his track bag. You watched as he carefully pulled something from it, looking over the item for a moment before turning back to you. When he straightened up and made a move to face you again, you nearly fell to your knees. “That’s actually why I came here.” He said, clearing his throat to rid himself of the nervousness plaguing him.

He extended his hand towards you, watching you closely in fear of a volatile reaction. He had brought up the idea once before and you had confirmed your distaste for it, but he could not seem to help himself. He thought you deserved it. He thought that you were worth it. Your eyes were glued to the brown paper that was delicately wrapped around a bouquet of red roses. You were so stunned that you could not even manage to look up to meet his gaze.

How could he do that to you? How could he walk in like nothing happened with a bouquet of roses and a tongue as sharp as a knife? Sweetness dripped from his words and his actions, but you were in no state of mind to receive such treatment from him. His gestures were profound and you adored him for it, but it was not what you needed when you were dedicated to getting over him.

“Jake,” you warned, saying his name like it was the only hymn you knew how to sing. He appeared so ethereal, so beautiful and bright while he held the token of love, but you were not enough of a fool to believe that it could be true. His angelic smile and his breathtaking eyes were nowhere near anything holy, and you had learned the truth a long time ago. He was not good for you, and you were not good for him. You both knew it, but he did not want to accept it. By showing up and handing out grand gestures, he was only worsening the suffering.

“Stop it, y/n.” He said, giving you a stern look. “Take them, please. I spent so long picking them out that it would be a shame for them to go to waste.” Your heart sped at his words, realizing that the longer you looked, the less it seemed like the bouquet was a thoughtless, last minute purchase on his way over. The paper was arranged beautifully amidst the blood red petals and emerald stems and leaves. Tied around the stems was twine that was carefully cut and settled into a bow. You were not a background thought in his head; he had gone to an expensive florist and pondered over dozens of flowers to bring to you. He picked them with care and caution, wondering what would catch your eye the most.

He cared enough to spend the time and the money on you, but what was even worse than that was that he was the first person to ever give you a bouquet of flowers. How could you get over him when he’d been the first man in the world other than your father to care so much about you?

“Friends don’t give each other flowers.” You said, looking hesitantly towards his face.

“You’re right, y/n. Friends don’t give each other flowers.” He sighed, still holding his arm out to you. “I’m giving these to you because we’re not friends, and you and I both know that.”

“No, Jake.” You shook your head, crossing your arms across your stomach and hugging yourself to satiate the steadily growing anxiety. “I told you, we can’t do that. I’m not good for you. This isn’t good for us.” You shook your head, panicking at the idea of hurting each other again. He was too fantastic to be subject to the hurt the two of you were so good at causing.

“Would you quit that? Stop being so fucking stubborn.” He argued, getting visibly frustrated. “You don’t get to decide what’s good for me. You don’t get to choose if I want to be with you or not. Only I can, and I’m choosing you, y/n. I’m standing here in front of you, telling you that I am, and that I will choose you every day for the rest of my life. You don’t get to tell me that we can only be friends, and you don’t get to tell me that this won’t work. You can’t always call the shots. I get a say, too.”

“I’m not telling you what to do, I’m just saying that this is only going to hurt us! I’m trying to protect you, and I wish you could see that!” You exclaimed, trying to ward off the temptation to run into his arms. His words were devastatingly beautiful and everything you had ever longed to hear, but you could not be selfish and bring him down with you.

“Protect me from what?” He shot back, appalled at your inability to comprehend what he was saying. “You? Myself? Us?”

“Everything! I don’t know!” You were exasperated by his reaction, not able to understand how he could not see it the same way you did. Two people that hated love could not love each other peacefully. You had proven that with your jealousy and toxic games, and you cared about him far too much to involve him in such things. The sin the two of you had engaged in had left you both resembling the devil, and you feared that if you let it go any further, you would turn to ash in the barren, fiery wastelands of hell.

“I shouldn’t have left that night, y/n. I never should have let you go, but I didn’t want to push you, and I didn’t want to scare you away. It was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done, but I’m here now to tell you everything I need to say. I have to get it off my chest, because if I don’t, it’s going to haunt me for the rest of my life. If you still think that it’s for the best, then I’ll let you go, but not until I tell you everything.” You watched him, pain written so clearly on your face. You did not have the heart to turn him down, and you did not have the strength to keep up the act. You wanted him so badly that it was impossible to send him away, and his persistence was charming despite your hesitancy.

“Okay.” You nodded, choking on the word as it fell from your lips. You knew that whatever he had to say would turn your whole world upside down, but for some reason, you were okay with it. When in his company, even if he was causing peacefulness or devastation, it seemed right. You could comfortably watch him tear your house down one panel at a time, and you would have a smile on your face and love in your heart because you were there with him. You reached out, slowly wrapping your fingers around the bouquet. Your hand brushed against his as you did, the burning warmth of his skin sending a shiver down your spine. You had no idea how even the simplest of interactions with him always seemed so magnificent. “Thank you, Jake.” You looked down at the petals, tears shining in your eyes as you digested the sentiment that came along with the gift.

Now that you held them, it made the moment all the more real. Jake was a man who cared about you so deeply that it made you question if he was even real. You had never felt emotion so strongly, good or bad. He made everything a million times more powerful, and even something as small as buying you flowers seemed to knock the air from your lungs and make your knees weak. You had never felt so important to anyone in your entire life, and as good as it felt, you feared that if it ever came to an end, you would perish from the grief of the loss.

“You keep saying that you want to protect me, but there’s nothing you have to protect me from, y/n. I’m a grown man who understands what I’m getting myself into, and I’m telling you that I don’t care about the risks.” He watched you take a step towards the kitchen, following closely behind you as you moved to set the flowers on the counter. Once they were safely placed, you turned to look at him again, giving him all of your attention. “When I met you at the bar that night, I wasn't looking for anything but sex. We both know that, and I don’t feel a need to lie about it. When I sat down and I finally got you to talk to me, I knew right away that you were going to be more than sex. You can’t just meet someone so fantastic and pretend they’re ordinary, angel, and you are all but ordinary.” Your stomach twisted in knots at his words, but you bit down on your tongue and listened as he poured his heart out to you.

“You are the most beautiful, smart, witty, and charming woman I have ever met. You take my breath away every time I see you, and you make me feel things I’ve never felt before in my entire life. I could go on about how I feel about you forever, but it still wouldn’t even come close to how I feel in my heart. I don’t think there’s enough words in the dictionary to describe how much I care for you.” He was close to you, but not enough that you felt trapped. There was about a foot of space between you, and you would never say it, but you were desperate for him to come closer. Your eyes were focused on his face as he spoke. The emotion in his eyes was so profound that you could feel it as if it were your own. “I know I promised you that I wouldn’t fuck this up, and I’m sorry that things happened the way they did, but falling for you was the easiest thing I have ever done. I was yours before we ever left the bar that night, and as much as you don’t want me to be, I can’t apologize for something I don’t believe is wrong. I am sorry that I broke my promise, but I have never been sorry for caring about you.”

“I’ve spent the last three months trying to memorize every detail about you because I want to know everything you have to offer. I know that you hate breakfast, because it’s too intimate, and emotional intimacy scares the shit out of you. I know that you have the exact same routine before bed; you turn on your fan to the third setting, because the fourth is too loud and the second isn’t enough. Then, you climb into bed and you check your phone, but not for texts or social media likes. You check your schedule, just to make sure you’re not forgetting about an appointment with a client, because your work means everything to you. Then, you get up again because you can remember if you locked the door or not, and you make sure the oven is off for the fifth time while you’re out there. When you get back into bed, you toss and turn for twenty minutes until you eventually end up on your stomach, because that is the only way you can fall asleep.” As he told you the most miniscule details about yourself, your ego shattered and the shards of what once was so strong seemed to stab you with every breath. Nobody had ever cared to know you so well, and he was recounting it like he’d dedicated his whole life to studying it.

“Your sister is your whole life, and you mark off the days on your calendar just so you can count down the hours until she comes home to visit. You only ever sit on the left side of the couch, and you have about a dozen half-empty water bottles beside your bed because you forget about your open one and grab a new one every night. When you laugh, you cover your mouth with your hands and you try to keep it to yourself. I don’t know why, because it’s the most beautiful sound I have ever heard. You play with your hair when you’re nervous, and you blush when you lie.” As he spoke, your hand darted away from the ends of your hair as if it had just burned you.

“Stop, Jake.” You whispered, feeling sick at the sheer amount of knowledge he had about you.

“No, y/n.” He shook his head. “I’ll never stop talking about you, because knowing you so well is the best feeling in the whole world, especially because I know I’m the only one who does. I could talk about you for hours, because I think everyone should know how fantastic you are. I know all of this stuff, and I still want more. You can call me selfish, but I don’t care. I want to spend my life getting to know you, and I will be eighty years old and still wanting to learn something new about you.” He explained, hoping you were understanding what he meant. “Friends don’t know each other like this, sweetheart, and it would be a fucking shame if we tried to be strangers again after everything we’ve been through. Knowing you any less than I do right now seems like torture, and I don’t ever want to do that.”

“I’m not scared of you, and I’m not scared of this. I’ve spent every day since I first met you falling for you, and now, it’s the most comfortable feeling I’ve ever felt. You don’t get to tell me that I’d be happier without you, or as friends, or with someone else, because it’s just not true. You are what I want, and I know you have to feel it, too. I’ve never felt this way before, and I know we’ve both been hurt, and I know that you’re scared, but you can’t tell me that this isn’t good for us. We haven’t even tried, angel. If you let me, I can show you that love is not as scary as it seems, because we’ve already been doing it.”

“Jake,” you let out a shaky breath, your eyes shining with tears as you tried to process all he was saying. His name seemed like the only thought your brain could formulate.

“Baby, you are everything to me. I’m here, and I want to stay if you’ll let me. I’m not going anywhere, and I’m not going to hurt you like everyone else has. I know that I already have, and I will spend the rest of my life trying to make it right, but I promise that I will never do that to you again.” He took a small step towards you, gauging your comfort before he jumped straight into it. “I know that you don’t like this part, but I would be an idiot if I didn’t ask you to try. I want to be what you deserve, and I want to be with you, more than I’ve ever wanted anything my whole life.” He reached out, lifting your chin up with his index finger to look in your eyes. “All I’m asking for is one chance. One shot to prove that I’m telling the truth. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I left you here, and I don’t think I ever will.”

He cared, and he cared so much that he was willing to get his heart broken all over again for the chance to have you. He did not want to promise you love and then leave, nor did he want to pretend to be all you needed just to take it away. He wanted you, and loving you was all he ever wanted to do. Jake had never been the enemy; you only had yourself to blame, ruining your chances at happiness before the opportunity ever arose. You were hurt, guarded and protective over your own frail heart, but he did not want to shatter it like you previously thought. He wanted to help strengthen it again, to show you that your heart would be safe as long as it was offered to the right people. He wanted to love you like you always should have been, and Scott was right that night at the restaurant; what the two of you had was a type of love that you should never let go of. He was the most selfless, caring and kind man you had ever met, and if you let him leave once more, you knew you would lose him forever.

“Okay.” You breathed, nodding your head as your heart drummed rapidly against your chest. You were terrified, but being in his company made the fear obsolete. The look in his eyes aided you in believing that you would be more than okay, and that he would be better than anyone who came before. You felt like you were being crushed underneath the weight of your own longing for him. “I’ll try for you, Jake.” There was no doubt in your mind that you would try until your body began to deteriorate and your mind went numb. You would try for him until you could no longer do it and death was the only other option. You would do anything to experience love at his hand again, because it was the most beautiful thing you had ever experienced.

“Yeah?” He asked with a little laugh stuck in his throat that screamed disbelief.

“Yes,” you nodded, praying that he would bridge the gap. Before you could ask him to come closer, his hands shot out and grabbed your face between them, still gentle with you as if he was scared to break you. He stepped forward, and within seconds, his lips were locked on your own and your arms were around him again. The taste of him was addicting, more than any other drug in the world. The feeling of his skin on your was intoxicating, and his hands felt like heaven when they touched you with such care. You were helplessly in love with him, and no amount of time or distance could change it. He was everything you needed, all of the time, and you were an idiot to try and push him away.

When he parted, you were both breathless and smiling. He was still close enough to your face that you could feel his warmth, and you hoped that he never had to pull back. You wanted to live in the bliss forever, and with him until the end of time.

“I want to try, Jake. I’m so scared, but I want to try as long as it’s with you.” The quiver in your voice was louder than anything else in the room, and he drank up the vulnerability as if he was dying from thirst. “I don’t want to hurt you, and I don’t want to get hurt, but you were right; we can’t let go of this without giving it our best. I’ve been so terrified of losing you that it’s made me blind to how much I care, and I don’t ever want to feel how I felt this week ever again.” All he could do was smile; there was no words to describe the relief he felt.

“I knew you were something more, too. You came in here and suddenly my house felt empty without you. I hate love and relationships, but you make me hate the idea a lot less. I want to try, and I want us to try together, but I want it to work. I don’t want to give up when things get hard, and I don’t want to fight or make each other suffer. I want to be with you, and I want to do it right, this time.” You confessed, all of the words pouring from you with no signs of stopping. “I’m scared to fall in love with you because I was scared of losing you, but I’m doing it anyway by forcing you to stay away. You’re worth the risk, Jake. You always have been, and I’m so sorry that I couldn’t say it sooner.”

“You’re saying it now.” He breathed, almost unable to believe that the words were genuine. When he showed up at your doorstep, he expected to be met with rejection. Instead, you were telling him everything he craved to hear from you. It was almost too good for him to believe that it was true. “That’s what matters, angel.” He placed another kiss to your lips, lingering there for a moment to soak up all of the intimacy he could. “I want that, too. I’ve done it wrong so many times, but I want to do it right this time. I want to do it right with you.”

“I missed you so much.” You admitted, reaching up and cupping his cheek in your hand. You let your thumb drift over the soft skin, wondering how you ever survived without him around.

“You don’t have to miss me anymore. I’m here, and I want to stay.” You closed your eyes, fighting back tears at the sound of his words. He was here, he wanted to stay, and he wanted to love you. You were so lucky to have him, and you were so stupid to think that you could let him go. One of his hands dropped to your hip, his fingers gently grasping at you as he attempted to pull you closer. “I’m going to say it.”

“Say what?” You giggled, peeking at him through tired eyes. You were exhausted, finally comfortable after days of suffering and sleepless nights, but you weren’t willing to end the moment yet. You would never sleep again if it meant you could always be with him, just like you were in that moment.

“I love you, sweetheart.” A wave of emotion washed over you, stopping your heart and filling your lungs. You watched his face, seeing in his eyes that he’d never meant anything more in his life. It was a word you’d banished so long ago, and it was something that you were certain you could live without. Now that he was in front of you, saying it in the same sweet tone he always used, you could not imagine a life without hearing it every day. You had no idea why you were so afraid of it, or why you were so afraid of him. He was the whole world, and you knew that from the very beginning. His devilish charm and intoxicating attitude made it impossible not to love him, and you knew that any woman would jump at the chance to have him. You were the luckiest person to ever live, and you could not picture loving anybody else the way you loved him.

“I love you, Jake.” You whispered, softly and slowly, making sure he heard every syllable. He had been waiting so long to hear it that you could not deny him of it for one more second.

He barely had time to smile before his lips were back on yours, hungrier than the last. You slipped your hand to the back of his neck, tangling your fingers in the locks of his hair. It was different than any other kiss you shared before; it tasted like freedom and it was laced with the notion of letting go. For the first time since you met him, you felt like you could show all of yourself to him. There were no barriers, no doubt nor hesitations. It was just the two of you, enjoying loving each other without fear getting in the way. It was the most beautiful thing you had ever felt, and you never wanted to feel any other way.

Loving Jake was the best thing you had ever experienced, even with the turmoil that you had been through. The pain and the losses were just as important as the good moments and the happiness, because it all led you to where you sat in that moment. The hurt was worth it as long as it meant you could love him, and you would suffer through it all over again just to be able to be loved by him. As his hand slipped under your shirt, settling on the warm skin underneath, you knew that you would never be happier with someone else. He was what you wanted, and any doubt about it was obsolete now.

You could not hold back the moan that slipped into his mouth at the feeling of his hand on you again. The rough, calloused fingertips from his guitar playing felt like heaven against the smooth skin on your body. Now, with the proclamation of love still lingering in the air, every movement and touch was amplified by a million. Your body was on fire, and he barely even touched you. You weren’t sure if it was solely accredited to the vulnerability the two of you shared, or if it was because you’d spent so many days longing to be touched by him. No matter which it was, it did not matter. All that mattered was that he was there, and things were okay.

“Say it again, angel.” He muttered against your lips, still trying to catch his breath.

“I love you,” you breathed, pressing your lips back to his before the words could fully pass through your mouth. His grip on you tightened, ecstatic to hear the sound. “I love you so much.” You said again, unable to hold it back any longer. You wanted to scream your love for him from the highest rooftops, telling the whole world how much he meant to you, but you feared that it still would not be enough. His lips trailed from your lips down to your neck, settling on the sweet spot just below your ear. You let out a breathy moan at the feeling of his tongue on your skin, your hands tightening on him as a silent show of enjoyment.

“We’re gonna have to do this differently now, beautiful.” His voice vibrated against you, making your eyes flutter closed at the light tickle that quickly spread.

“What do you mean?” You asked, still lost in the blissful nature of his touch.

“I can’t fuck you like a whore, anymore.” He said, snaking his hand up your shirt and landing it over your breast clothed only by the thin material of your bra. His thumb found your nipple through the fabric, feeling it harden under his touch. “I have to fuck you like I love you.”

“Can’t you fuck me like a whore anyway?” You challenged, not willing to give up the sex life you had already built with him. He chuckled at the disappointment in your tone, glancing up at you to catch your gaze.

“You like it better that way?” He raised an eyebrow. Your cheeks heated with a blush at the look in his eyes.

“Y-yes, sir.” You nodded.

“I tell you I love you and you behave yourself… maybe I should have said it a long time ago.” He related the two, smiling to himself as he thought about it. “How about I do both? Does that sound good to you, angel?”

“Sure, yeah.” You felt your lips upturn into a smile, happy with anything he was willing to give you.

“Glad we could come to that agreement.” He chuckled, giving your breast a gentle squeeze as he finished speaking. “Now, get in the bedroom and take your fucking clothes off. I’ve got time to make up for, and I don’t feel like waiting any longer.”

“Yes, sir.” You repeated your earlier statement, trying to ignore the ache that began between your legs. He dropped his hand from you, giving you a gentle nudge towards the bedroom. You followed his guidance, letting out a small yelp as his hand collided with your ass as you turned away. You shot him a look over your shoulder as you continued walking away, but he only responded with a wink.

You made quick progress with taking your clothes off, unashamed of your own excitement. You kicked them off to the side, peering out into the kitchen to see if he was following. When you didn’t see him or hear him walking to join you, you stepped towards the door, peeking just your head around it. You gazed out, finding your heart melt at the sight. He was peering through your cupboards, flowers in hand, in search of a vase to put them in. Eventually, he found a suitable holder for them, filling it with water and unwrapping the bouquet. He placed them inside, smiling at his own accomplishment, and turned towards your room.

He caught you staring, finding himself only slightly embarrassed at the thought. He gave you a smile as his cheeks tinged red. “What?” He asked, defending himself when there was no need to.

“Nothing,” you giggled, stepping out from the door frame so he could see you followed his instructions. He took in a sharp breath, surprised that you had been so obedient. Then, his eyes seemed to darken with lust as he got closer to you. “You’re just taking care of things out there like… oh, I don’t know, you love me or something?” He let out a scoff, rolling his eyes at your statement.

“Yeah, as if.” He teased, stepping towards you and scooping you into his arms with one swift motion. You let out a shriek of laughter, slinging your arms around his neck while you wrapped your legs around him. He found himself laughing at you, too. Your joy was infectious, and he wanted to soak up every minute of it. He pressed his lips to yours as he stepped towards the bed, breaking from the kiss for a moment to check over your shoulder and ensure there was nothing on the mattress. When he deduced that the coast was clear, he moved forward so his knees were touching the bed, then he dropped you down on the mattress without warning.

You let out a gasp of surprise as you landed with a thud, bouncing back up slightly from the impact. “What was that for?” Your lip formed into an unintentional pout, displeased with his actions, but he was too busy pulling his shirt over his head to notice.

“This is where the love part comes in.” He explained, chucking as he threw his shirt to the ground. “It’s not just about fucking you until you can’t walk; we get to have fun, too.”

“That wasn’t fun, I could’ve gotten hurt!” You exclaimed, but a smile was tugging at your lips. He unbuttoned his jeans, slipping out of them and kicking them to the side before looking back at you.

“Sweetheart, I would never do anything that would hurt you. You know that.” He scolded, playfulness still dancing in his eyes. He moved closer, climbing onto the bed and hovering atop of you for a moment. “Well, too bad, anyway.” He added, running his fingers over the lingering mark from his belt that was left from the weekend before. “Sorry about that.”

“No need to apologize.” You assured him, the sting of the leather already long forgotten in your mind. “I deserved it.”

“You can be quite a brat,” he agreed, smiling down at you. The chain around his neck dangled in the air and his hair swooped down to frame his face. The sight of him was breathtaking, and you wished you could sear the picture in your mind forever.

“You bring out the worst in me.” You shrugged, distracted by the gleam of emotion in his eye. It was different than before, less animalistic and much more complex. It was love, and even though you did not recognize it yet, you would in the days to come, for it was dancing in your eyes, too.

“I don’t think that’s true, angel.” He argued, leaning down so his lips were hovering over your bare chest. He watched you take in a sharp breath, anticipating his next move with excitement. He placed a soft kiss to the top of your breastbone, slowly making his way downward with the same gentle nature. He brought one hand to your hardened nipple, letting the rough pad of his thumb drift across the sensitive nub. Your back arched upwards in reaction. The feeling was small, and the reaction was not because of the sensation, but rather because he was the one causing it.

He brought his mouth down to your breast, letting his tongue take over for his thumb. Your eyes fluttered closed as the familiar feeling of arousal blossomed in your belly. It was so easy for him to turn you into a mess, and sometimes you wondered if he knew the extent of the power he held over you. He suctioned his lips around the nipple, letting his tongue run over it a few times to let you enjoy the moment. Once you were comfortable and unsuspecting, he let his teeth sink into you ever so slightly. You jumped at the sensation, but he’d already moved on before you could voice a complaint.

He kissed a sloppy trail down to your navel, reveling in the noises that were falling from your lips. Eventually, he paused, looking back up at you through his lashes to soak in your needy expression. His mouth was hovering just over your heat, and the ache between your legs was growing harder to ignore. You needed him, and you did not know if you could wait any longer. “What’s wrong, beautiful?” He asked, the far away look in his eyes telling you how badly he needed to hear you tell him how much you wanted him.

“Need it so bad, Jake.” You squirmed underneath his gaze, finding it almost too powerful to hold. “It’s been so long.”

“You need me?” He purred, the corners of his lips upturned into a smirk. You watched as his eyes flickered from your face to your cunt, the temptation of seeing all of you too much to resist.

“I do, sir.” You pleaded, feeling the arousal begin to push you towards insanity. You could feel his breath on your skin, teasing you without even trying. His mouth was watering from the sight alone, but he wanted to savor the moment for as long as he could. “Please, baby.” You tried again, reaching down and caressing his cheek with your thumb. You thought that the sweetness might coerce him into giving in. The soft brown of his irises were gone, now, blackened with his lust-blown pupils. He wanted you just as bad, and the soft touch of your fingers was forcing him to remember how badly he missed you.

“Do you know how much I thought about this?” He asked, grabbing your hip with one of his hands. He pulled you down ever so slightly, his mouth practically touching you, now. “How badly I wanted to see you like this?”

“How bad, sir?” You played stupid; you knew how much he thought about you because you had thought about him just as much. You wanted to hear it, to know how desperate he was for you when he couldn’t have you.

“I thought about it every night,” he muttered, his eyes now focused on your cunt, clenching around nothing just from the memory of him being inside of you. “I thought about all of those slutty little noises, how pretty you looked with my cock in your mouth.” He listed, biting back a smirk as he noticed your cheeks redden at his words. “I was worried someone else was taking care of you and that pretty little cunt.” He continued, letting a trail of spit fall from his lips onto his fingers. “Did you get someone else to take care of you, sweetheart?”

“No, sir.” You let out a shaky breath, completely enthralled by his devilish charm. The filth he was speaking even seemed to draw you in. At that moment, Jake was the only thing in the world that mattered.

“No?” He asked, almost as if he didn’t believe you. “Couldn’t find anyone else who could do it right?” You let your head fall back on the mattress as you felt his fingers run through your folds. “Nobody else could fuck you like I can, right sweetheart?”

“No, Jake.” You agreed. “Nobody else could fuck me like you can.” He let out a hum of satisfaction at your words, letting his middle and index finger slip inside you as his thumb drifted over your aching clit.

“Why is that?” He questioned, beginning to move his fingers at a slow pace. You were too immersed in the feeling of pleasure he was giving you to notice he spoke again. “Why can nobody else make you feel this way, baby?”

“Because I’m yours, Jake.” You let the possessive claim slip without care. You were his, and you only ever wanted to be his. “Because I love you.” You said, adding on to the original comment.

“Cause you’re all mine, angel.” He agreed, smiling at the thought. He curled his fingers upwards ever so slightly, hitting the sensitive spot inside you he’d grown to know so well. You let out a soft moan, moving your hips down on his hand for more. You were so desperate that under any other circumstances, you would be shameful. Now, with Jake on top of you, you couldn't care less. He knew how badly you needed him whether you said it or not; there was no hiding from Jake, and you were okay with that. “And I love you, too.” A whimper fell from your lips at the sound of his voice saying such sweet words.

“Fuck,” you groaned, feeling your abdomen tense with pleasure. You were so close, and he’d barely even started.

“Already?” He asked, amazed at the thought.

“It’s been a while,” you huffed, still too lost in the euphoria to care. “It feels so fucking good, Jake.”

“Tell me how good it feels, baby. Wanna hear all about it.” He encouraged you as he leaned down, moving his thumb from your clit and replacing it with his tongue.

“Oh, god.” You tangled your hand in his hair, needing more than he could possibly give you. Your whole body was ablaze with sin, once again falling victim to his routine. You tried so hard to stay away, but the truth was, you didn’t want to stay away. He was too fantastic at everything he did, and his company was too pleasurable to deny. You were in lust by the first touch and in love by the first conversation. Jake was something otherworldly, and you knew that from the very beginning. His love outweighed every consequence that you could face in hell. The devil was between your legs, and you were too weak to resist him. He had made you a fool for his sin, but just now were you realizing the extent of the damage.

As his fingers curled inside you again, the prescision in which they moved was almost too much too soon. You bucked your hips upwards against him, feeling the pressure rapidly increase in your stomach. You were right on the edge, and he barely had to try. He hummed against you, showing his appreciation of your enjoyment. Your heart was pounding against your chest, trying to break free from your ribs as he continued his torment. He was evil, but you could not seem to care because the evil was within you, too.

“You taste so fucking good,” he said, pulling back for just a moment to catch his breath. His words resembled a growl more than anything, and his grip tightened on your hip as he pulled you down further towards him.

“It’s all for you, baby.” You sighed, still lost in the feeling of his fingers pumping into you. He withdrew a long breath, trying to keep himself calm at the thought. There was no better feeling in the world than having you all to himself, and he never wanted to take it for granted again. Knowing he nearly lost you was painful, and he would not allow himself to be foolish enough to let you slip through his fingers again.

He returned his mouth to you, suctioning his lips sound your clit and throwing you straight back into euphoria. You tensed at the feeling, your fingers tightening in his hair as his name fell from your lips. You were praying to him as if he was the god that would save you, but he was nothing holy nor was he any force that could liberate you. He was the evil coursing through your veins, forcing you into the sin and coercing you into believing that it was right. He was the only man in the world who could drive you to such pleasure, but having such power told you that he was the exact entity you thought he was the entire time. You loved him too much to walk away, but he was too wicked to survive. As he worked you up to an orgasm, he was sucking the life from you at the same time. He was the very thing that kept your heart beating, and the very thing that would eventually take it away.

You were too far gone to realize you were in the grave; the dirt seemed pillowy and soft, warm and inviting despite the frost nipping at your skin, begging to freeze you there for the rest of eternity. Falling in love with Jake was the most painful death sentence you had ever faced, but he had such a way with his heart that he made death itself seem enjoyable. You were slipping away, but dying at his hands was the most pleasurable experience of your entire life, like it had been the exact thing you were born to experience.

The blissful feeling was so intense that you could feel it pulsing under your skin and behind your eyes. Your stomach was in knots, begging you to let go, but you feared that you would not survive the downfall. His fingers and tongue worked in time with each other to keep you on the edge, nearly pushing you over with every move. You couldn’t contain the orgasm, and he knew how close you were. Seven days without him was torture, and you felt like you had been deprived of your life’s greatest joy. He could feel how close you were; he knew your body better than you knew it yourself. The shallow breathing and the constant trail of moans that were falling from your lips told him all he needed to know, and the clench of your cunt around him solidified the idea. He was desperate for it, and you could feel that in the prescision of his movements.

“Jake,” you groaned, squeezing your eyes shut as your head dropped to the mattress. “M’gonna cum.” You warned. He gave your hip a gentle squeeze, but did not change up his movements. It was his way of giving you silent permission to do so. With a ragged breath and an insatiable burning in your chest, your legs began to tremble from the intensity of the pleasure. All of your muscles were tense and every nerve in your body felt like it was on fire. After seven days of suffering, all of the pain and suffering seemed to be disappearing from your body the longer he carried on.

His name fell from your lips, mixed with a slur of curses and moans. The obscenities painted the walls with your sin, dripping down and ensuring they would remain in the foundation of the home until the end of time. There was not a single thing in the room that was not tainted with the wicked energy the two of you were exuding. He held you to him, ensuring you could soak up every second of pleasure the climax had to offer. You felt like you were going mad; your mind was a mess with thoughts all pertaining to the boy nestled between your legs. You feared that the intensity would never pass, your limbs aching with the rigid nature of your muscles and your lungs desperate for air.

Eventually, when he began to taper off his movements, the sensation began to fade. You relaxed against the mattress, finally able to fill your lungs with oxygen. When he pulled away from you completely, you were too dazed to notice the loss of contact. Your eyes were closed, your chest rising and falling as you tried to catch up with the breaths you were deprived of momentarily. Your legs continued to tremble with the ghost of your orgasm and your stomach was still twisted into knots of pleasure. He did not move from his position, but instead got on his knees rather than laying on his stomach. His eyes were heavy with lust, crazed by the state you were in. He thought there was no way he’d be able to forget the way you looked when you were fucked out and drunk off him. It was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.

Before you even came back to reality, he was lining himself up with your entrance. He guided your legs around him with little help from you, bracing his arm on the bed just beside your head. “You’re not giving up on me yet, are you angel?” He rasped, even his voice husky with the desire he was feeling for you. You managed to crack your eyes open at the sound of his voice, the sound too beautiful to ignore.

“I’m okay,” you promised, now focused on the feeling of his cock resting against you. The idea of fucking him was enough to give you the energy to continue on. “I promise.” You said, reaching up to touch his face. The feeling caused his eyes to flutter closed and a smile to blossom on his lips.

“That’s my girl.” He crooned, savouring the sensation only for a second before he was pushing himself inside of you. As much as he wished to live in the moment forever, he could not wait any longer. You both let out a hiss of relief, already needing more than you could have. “You always feel so fucking good.” He groaned, beginning at a slow pace. As much as he teased you for being so close so soon, he felt just the same. Seven days for him felt like an eternity without you, and he never wanted to experience it again. His hips moved slowly, but powerfully. The angle he had your hips settled at allowed him to reach a depth that made your head spin.

“J-just want to make you feel good, sir.” You whined, the sensitivity making his movements feel all the more enjoyable. His eyes darkened further at your words, the obedience driving him crazy. He’d never heard you be so submissive, and he wasn’t shy about his new found love for it. Not once had he gotten you into bed and did not hear a single argument or snide comment, but despite his love for the obedience, he couldn’t help but miss the sharp tongue you so often could not keep a hold of. He loved you for all of you, even your naturally argumentative self and your tendency to talk back. He was in love with everything you had to offer, and he knew that he always would be.

To make the devil fall in love is a daunting task, but within a few weeks, you had made yourself an expert in doing so.

“Yeah? You like being a little whore for me?” He asked, adding a little more power behind his thrusts. His cock brushed against your cervix, causing you to wince at the painful type of pleasure that shot through you. “You like it when I use you for whatever I want?”

“God, yes.” You muttered, looking up to meet his eyes. The sexual tension between you was so strong that it was hard to think of anything else, but there was something deeper, now. Connection, understanding, and love. The two of you had overcome the only barrier that had ever held you back. Fear was obsolete, replaced with the desire to know and to care. It was freeing, and the world seemed full of endless possibilities, now. You could not believe you had let the anxieties hold you back from something so wonderful and so fulfilling.

Then again, you knew that beneath the elation of your realizations, Jake was the one behind it all. The fear would never have left had he not been the one who you fell for. The risk would not be worth it if it were someone else between your legs, staring down at you with such admiration. Love was not worth it unless he was the one on the recieving end, nor would it be worth it if someone else were trying to give it to you. You knew that all you feared would be kept safe, locked up in his heart for eternity the same as it was in your own. He would keep every secret, every promise, and every failure safe. He would protect it as if his life depended on it, because he did not want anyone else to know all that he knew about you. He did not want anyone else to have the chance to have you like he did, and he did not want you to think that he was not the person he made you believe he was.

Your trust was the most important to him, and your love came second to that. He wanted you to depend on him, to let him in when the days seemed dark and dreary. He wanted you to share every tear and pain that you felt in your body, and he wanted you to share every failure and mistake. He wanted the goodness, but he wanted all of the bad, too. He loved you not just for your triumphs and successes, but also for your darkest moments. He wanted to be the person you could pour your heart into, no matter if it was happiness or sadness. He wanted you in your entirety, and he would love you through every single moment of your life, and even long beyond that.

The two of you went in search of sex, something to fill the void that was steadily growing in your hearts. You wanted casual without commitment, because neither of you yearned to bear your souls to another. Your sadness, your heartbreaks and your hurt had turned you cold, and made it so you wanted to keep everyone locked out. Intimacy in the emotional aspect scared the both of you beyond comprehension, yet in your search to find something to satiate the isolation, you had found so much more. In each other, you discovered all that you feared yet all that you needed all in the same place. You were terrified of love, yet craved it so badly it made your chest ache and your head spin. You were full of mistrust, yet desperate to find someone you could share your life with without fear.

It was not your job to seek love, but it had always been your duty to break down all of the barriers that prohibited it from entering your lives. In the three months of knowing each other, you did not intend or purposely search for love within each other, but you did break down every wall and defense you had built up prior to meeting each other. Because of that, love flowed in easily and endlessly, and the two of you were able to do the very thing you swore you would never do again.

Within each other, you found home. You found a hiding place, somewhere to rest and put down the burden of life for a while. You found friendship, connection, and purpose. You found a way to conquer your biggest fears and push your own boundaries enough to allow another inside.

In Jake, you had found everything you ever needed.

In you, he found everything he ever dreamed of.

Somewhere in the universe, the divine had found a way to forgive you for the wrongdoing and allow you a moment of peace. But, evil does not rest even when it seems like it has. Beneath the surface, the wicked forces were still working overtime to turn you rotten to the core. You had engaged in so much sin that your entire life was encrypted with it. Satan himself would draw back in fear if he looked into your eyes, yet the two of you were so blissfully ignorant to the fact that you felt as though you had repented enough to free yourself from the darkness.

“Come here, angel.” He said, pulling out of you for a moment. There it was again; the heavenly connotation to a woman so evil her own skin turned red.

He collapsed on the bed beside you, reaching out and pulling you on top of him. You were so distraught with the loss of contact that you let out an audible whine, but you did not have to suffer for too long. He guided your legs on either side of him, helping you position yourself so you could continue fucking. You planted your hand firmly on his chest, holding yourself up as he lined himself up with your entrance. His hands landed on your hips, his warm touch searing your cool skin. Without warning, he pulled you down on him with a strength that made your head spin. You let out a moan, telling him how good it felt when he filled you up in such a way.

“That’s better, sweetheart.” He muttered, helping you move your hips to maintain a steady rhythm. Once you were able to keep up the pace yourself, he removed one hand from you and brought it to your clit. He let his finger begin slow circles, encouraging you silently as you rode both of you into an orgasm. “Does that feel good?”

“Feels so good, sir.” You panted, grinding your hips downwards onto him. His jaw was tense, his teeth clenched tightly as he focused on the way your body was moving on him. First, he admired your face. The twisted expression of pleasure was enough to send him into a climax, but he managed to hold himself back, wanting to enjoy you for just a little while longer. Your lips were parted slightly as obscenities fell from your tongue, dripping down onto him and drowning him in the sinful sounds. His gaze trailed down your neck, taking in every available inch of exposed skin. He studied the way the columns of your neck flowed down into your collarbones, and all the way down to your breasts which were bouncing with every movement of your body. He wanted you to be in the position solely so he could admire you without any obstruction of view.

His eyes trailed down your stomach, watching your muscles tense with the pleasure that you were feeling. He looked down at his hand anchored around your hip, his fingers digging into the skin with a promise to leave finger-shaped bruised by the morning. He could not deny the feeling of euphoria at the thought of your body being marked with memories of him for days to come. Eventually, his gaze landed on your cunt, where his hand was delicately coaxing an orgasm and your hips were jointed with his, the two of you intertwined in the most intimate and intoxicating way.

You were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and he could not hold the thought to himself. If he had to hide it, he thought he might die from the pressure of the notion pulsing against his skull.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.” He said, the words almost caught in his throat as he tried to speak them. The emotion in the room was heavy, weighing both of you down and inevitably pushing you even closer together. “I love you, y/n.” The profound nature of his words made your head spin and your heart skip a beat. You looked down, catching his eyes and seeing the sincerity pooling in his gaze.

“I love you, Jake.” You whispered, your hips stuttered as you spoke. You felt locked in, like your eyes could not look away from him even if your life depended on it. “I love you so much.” You repeated, the words freeing and lifting tons of weight from your shoulders. You were so happy to finally be able to say it, and now you never wanted to stop. You wanted to tell every person you stumbled across how fantastic he was and how much he meant to you, but a smaller, more selfish part of you wanted to keep him to yourself forever. He was yours and only yours, and you were the only one in the world lucky enough to have him.

“Cum for me, angel.” He said, his voice low and dripping with desire. He gave you the permission not because he was planning on denying you the pleasure, but because he feared he might die if you did not. He needed you like the starving need food, and he could not keep up with the demands of his heart. He needed everything from you all at once, and he needed it so much that he could not even think about anything else.

With his permission, you felt another wave of euphoria wash over you. This time, it was so intense that it felt like your whole body locked in reaction to it. You managed his name through the cries of pleasure, but it was barely noticeable. The only reason he picked up on it was because he spent every waking minute waiting for you to speak his name.

“That’s it, baby.” He said, gently guiding your lower half down towards him, still circling his finger around your clit. “Being such a good girl for me.” He hummed, pulling you into a kiss as soon as you were close enough to do so. You rode out your high with your lips locked with his, letting every moan fall into his mouth. He drank up the sound, each one pushing him closer to his own climax. When you relaxed against him, he slowly removed his hand from your cunt, bringing both hands to your hips to hold you in place. You were exhausted, and he could clearly see that. He decided not to push you, instead keeping you close to him and pulling your bottom lip between his teeth while he allowed you to calm down.

When your chest returned to the steady rise-and-fall rhythm, he started his own pace again. He held your hips in place, continuing the kiss as he fucked into you, working himself back up to his own orgasm. The sensation was intense, almost overwhelming as you tried to bargain with your own sensitivity from both orgasms. His pace was bruising, like always, but it was still intoxicating. You felt your stomach burn with pleasure once again, unbelieving of how fast you could feel the pressure of another orgasm begin to build. You had to break away from the kiss to catch your breath, the feeling becoming too much to bear. You couldn’t focus on anything other than the feeling of him inside you and the way he filled you up so perfectly.

“Again?” He asked, a cocky smirk on his lips as he tried to play down his own pleasures.

“A-ah, fuck, shut up!” You hissed, stumbling over your own words. He let out a low chuckle at your response, unbothered by your harsh tone.

“S’okay, sweetheart. I know how good I make you feel.” He said, tone dripping with pride. His ego took up space in the room even when you were fucking, and you hated to admit that you loved it. He continued on his pace, now pulling you down on him with every move of his hips. It was painful, but it was addicting. You wanted more, but you feared your body would not be able to handle it. A particularly high-pitched moan let him know that you were already there once again. His head fell back on the mattress, absolutely amazed by how attracted he was to you and how badly he affected you. “That’s it,” he encouraged “look at you.” He whispered to himself, his eyes burning into your face. “You’re so beautiful, sweetheart.”

The compliment sent you over the edge for the third time, the sweet words too much for you to handle. You clenched around him, pulling him in even further as you unravelled. Your hand moved upwards grasping at his shoulder, holding yourself upright as he continued fucking into you. The pleasure was so plentiful that it quickly became the only thing you could think of; nothing else mattered other than him and the way he made you feel.

Jake was not far behind you, his movements becoming sloppy and moans falling steadily from his own lips. You thought he was ridiculous for believing you were the best thing the world had to offer, especially considering he got to wake up and look at himself in the mirror every morning. Jake was the most beautiful thing to ever walk the earth, and he was the most precious gift you’d ever had the chance to receive. His grip on you tightened as he pulled you down on him, holding you to him as he spilled his release into you. He muttered your name amidst the chaos, almost like it was the only thing he knew how to speak.

Instead of pulling out, he rested inside of you for a moment, pulling your top half down closer so he could wrap his arms around you. You rested your cheek against his chest, closing your eyes in bliss as you soaked up the intimacy you had missed so much. His hand traced shapes into your back, the delicate touch sending shivers down your spine and causing goosebumps to scatter across your skin. You ran your fingers through his hair, twisted the ends of the locks between your fingers as you listened to the soft thud of his heartbeat against his chest.

Love was filling the room, and this time, you both allowed yourselves to feel it. You welcomed it with open arms, inviting it in with a smile. It was in every touch and every breath, living in every word and shared glance. In that moment, life could not have been better. He moved his head down, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. He let his lips linger there for a moment, closing his eyes as he thanked every higher power for allowing you to enter his life.

“I love you.” He muttered, the words coming out muffled due to his mouth still resting on your head. You smiled, the kind that made your cheeks hurt and your mind forget what it felt like to frown.

“I love you.” You said, placing a kiss to his chest.

“You want to get cleaned up?” He asked.

“Yeah,” you sighed, nodding against him. “Then we can go to bed.” His chest burned with excitement at the thought of falling asleep next to you again, but he kept his thoughts to himself.

Carefully, he withdrew from you and you both stood. He stayed close to you as you walked to the bathroom, fearful that if you got too far away, he’d lose you forever. You made quick work and cleaning yourselves off, both eager to get into bed and hold each other until you fell asleep. As you walked back to your bedroom, he stopped and grabbed his bag he left in the kitchen, bringing it back with him. You grabbed one of his shirts from your drawer and threw it over your head. He slipped his boxers back on and waited for you to get into bed before joining you.

When you were both under the covers, he wasted little time turning on his side and pulling you closer to him. He settled his arm around your waist as you pressed your back against his chest. “Thank you for coming back, Jake.” You whispered, sleepiness laced in your tone.

“Are you kidding me?” He scoffed, also speaking quietly. “I want going to let you get away that easily.” You giggled at his words, snuggling in even closer. He tightened his arm around you, pulling you further into him.

“Thank you for not giving up on me.” You said, more specific than the last time. He didn’t respond straight away, instead nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck.

“I will fight for you until my very last breath, sweetheart.” He said, simply and seriously. He meant every word, and he did not want you to believe otherwise. “I love you, beautiful.”

“I love you, Jake.” You smiled to yourself as you closed your eyes, sleep calling to you and quickly taking over. In your last conscious moment, you felt the warmth of his love surrounding you, but a familiar dread settled in your stomach. You loved him, and he loved you, but was it really going to be so easy? After struggling to give yourselves to each other, you had a hard time believing that the rest of your life could be so simple. More than that, you still feared the sins the two of you committed just to be together in that moment. Jake was the love of your life, and that was without a doubt. What did worry you was all of the other conclusions you had drawn about him, specifically in regards to his devilish nature.

Was a mortal man laying beside you, or had you invited Satan himself into your home until the end of time?

According to Wikipedia, ‘the seven deadly sins, also known as the capital vices or cardinal sins, is a grouping and classification of vices within Christian, particularly Catholic, teachings. According to the standard list, they are pride, greed, wrath, envy, lust, gluttony and sloth, which are contrary to the seven heavenly virtues.’ The seven deadly sins you had committed with ease and little regret. You fell into the trap without even realizing it, and from there, you could not stop the rapid progression of your godless acts. You had sinned so much that you had forgotten what a virtue was, but more than that, the seven deadliest sins held no weight compared to the sin that only you had been indulging in.

The world did not know about the most sacrilegious of sins because he was in your bed with his arm draped around you, sleeping soundly. You were the only person in the world who knew the extent of his evil. He was more powerful than lust, and more intense than greed. He was greener than envy and he was more vicious than wrath. Jake Kiszka was the eighth, undiscovered, most deadly sin of all. He was all of the vices combined, and more so, the only force in the world that could be strong enough to make you commit all of them in one go. He was the embodiment of evil, thus leaving no other way to describe him; he was the devil, and instead of fearing him, you felt lucky to be in his presence.

You had sinned so much that somewhere along your wicked warpath, you’d sprouted devil horns of your own. His power did not scare you, because you held the same one within your heart. The only match for him was you, and the two of you were tied together with barbed wire and chains, now. When you moved too fast, the ache from the tension spread to your bones, but his kiss satiated the pain. Most of the time, his love was so good that you did not feel the restraints around you at all.

So seven became eight, and the sin had finally come to an end. Yours and Jake’s souls were intertwined infinitely, tainted with the blackness of evil and scorching with the heat of flames. You had reached your deadly end, and you had always feared that once the devil had made home, there was no escaping him. Now, the devil was for certain to stay, and you knew deep in your heart that no amount of repent would rid you from the damage you caused and the guilt that came with it. As you fell asleep wrapped up in him, you thanked god for bringing him back to you whilst knowing he was the very thing god was trying to strike down.

A fear settled deep in the pit of your stomach, wondering if soon, god would realize your mistakes and make his first attempt at striking you down, too.

TAGLIST: @sacredjake @profitofthedune @thewritingbeforesunrise @sacredthethreadgvf @klarxtr @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @freefallthoughts @jaketlove @clairesjointshurt @ageofbajabule @dannys-dream @earthgrlsreasy @starshine-gvf @brujamagik @gvfmarge @ignite-my-fire @twistedmelodies @gretavangroupie @alwaysonthemend @edgingthedarkness @gvfpal @sinarainbows @writingcold @starcatcher-jake @literal-dead-leaf @takenbythemadness @gretasfallingsky @hsfallingsky @freyjalw @itsafullmoon @lyndz2names @blacksoul-27 @i-love-gvf @vikingsisthenewsexy @mp0801 @mindastreamofcolours @indigogvf @sparrowofthedawnsworld @jordie-gvf @cassy-face @highway-tuna @creadliz98 @dancingcarbon @do-it-jakey-baby @lallisonl

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bellewintersroe · 10 months

Text

Charles Leclerc x SchumacherDaughter! Reader

Lila is the youngest of the 3 Schumacher siblings, at 22 shes catching the attention of the public eye. With the new found popularity through Drive to Survive, social media has dubbed her the next ‘it’ girl despite her constant desire for privacy. When her love interest becomes more or less the most sought after man in F1, how will she cope with being the internets fascination? Both Charles and Lila have dealt with immense amounts of loss and trauma, so their mutual understanding for one another fuels their so called ‘friendship’. Part 1 - Just a Disclaimer- this will include no chapters where Lila will be interacting with Michael Schumacher, I don’t know enough about his condition nor do I feel respectful or comfortable writing about that! Everything else is purely fictional and I hope you all do enjoy this fanfic I’m planning on putting together 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

The familiar scent of petrol and rubber filled my nostrils as I followed behind my brother, Mick through the Formula 1 grid. The smell sent a wave of nostalgia through me as I deeply inhaled, reliving some of my best childhood years with just that one smell. The sight of the red Ferrari uniforms gave me the sensation I’d time travelled back to when I was still toddling around, my earliest memories of F1 being of the team.

I almost felt like I was betraying Mercedes by being in Ferrari garages, but I’d purposefully asked my brother to take me around the Monegasque track where we used to spend so much time playing in the garages, and on the sidelines as children. “Oh, Mick, do you remember when we used to draw all over that floor with chalk.” I pointed out to the floor below as my elder brother laughed, strutting past the exact same patch of floor we used to graffiti. “We’d always get in so much trouble!” He responded as I smiled, following after him, too caught up with all the different sights and sounds to realise he’d ventured off a little further and faster for my legs to catch up. “Mick!” I exclaimed, as I did, my body crashed into somebody else’s as I gasped out loud. “Oh! Only me, love!” I was relieved to see it was George Russell, hands on both my shoulders as he guided me to the side, steadying me from my almost fall. “Oh, sorry.” I laughed as he patted me on the upper back. “Don’t be running across here when there’s actual cars moving.” “I’ll try my best.” I breathlessly spoke, face heating intensely, before catching up with Mick who was already chatting away to somebody I couldn’t quite see, hidden behind my taller sibling. “Mick, I almost fell over, I’m embarrassed.” As my brother stepped to the side he revealed a dark haired, Ferrari man. Charles Leclerc. I had to do a double take, he was incredibly beautiful.

“This is Lila.” Mick gestured, as though he’d just been talking about me. I was momentarily lost for both breath and words. My eyes widened, eyeing up both Charles and my brother nervously. “Hello, Lila.” He spoke first as I offered him an uncontrollable smile, seeing him move forwards to welcome me in a hug. “Hi!” I borderline squeaked, inhaling his expensive smelling cologne. He’d kissed one of my cheeks in a greeting as I went to pull back from pure nerves but he went in for the other cheek, of course, we were European.

“Sorry..” I giggled, my hands on his shoulders as he laughed back to me, shaking his head in amusement as I felt momentarily lost in his gaze. Wow. He truly lived up to his reputation. He was breathtakingly beautiful, so cute. “It’s nice to meet you, Charles.” I was quick to speak, both our eyes snapping away at the same time as I fiddled with my bracelets nervously. I never was good at meeting people, no matter how many of them I’d meet on a common occurrence. Being around the public eye wasn’t necessarily my thing, it scared me too much, the attention of it all- I tended to shy away.

“Nice to meet you too, are you English?” His brows furrowed, hands tightening around his water bottle, his question meaning I could hold my gaze on him once more. “English? No, I went to boarding school there for a while, that’s with the accent, but I am German.” Mick let out a roar of laughter at Charles comment. “English? With a Germany brother?!” He slapped Charles’ arm as I couldn’t help but giggle to myself. Poor Charles, he seemed a little nervous.

“I know… stupid question.” He sheepishly spoke as my brother began speaking again, “I was just showing her around the grid and garages- we spent a lot of time here as kids.” Whilst he did, I dared to glance up at Charles again, I was stunned to see him do the same as we both looked away with a smirk. Oh wow…

“Oh yeah, of course, I bet it is strange being back here?” Charles directed the conversation back to me as I felt my cheeks warm further under his attention.

“It is… oddly it’s not changed that much?” I frowned towards Mick who nodded along. “It’s nice though, I have such a soft spot for Ferrari. We used to play in this garage so much.” I gestured, shrugging my shoulders awkwardly.

“Uhhh, a soft spot?” Charles looked back to me, a little confused as he practically giggled. “You know, like a favourite?” Mick spoke. “Ohhh, yes! Good!” Charles grinned as I too, giggled to myself, digging my white converse into the floor below.

“I hope not, what happened to Mercedes?!” Mick then asked as I playfully rolled my eyes. “Mercedes will always be my number 1, sorry Charles.” I teased. “Nooo.” He played along as I chewed down on my bottom lip, pursing my lips, anything to stop grinning like an utter fool. I couldn’t help it, Charles Leclerc was making me fluster like I was a teenager again!

“Good luck today, anyway, and to Carlos, it’ll be nice racing at home, no?” As Mick struck up a conversation with Charles my attention wandered to around the room, everything bustling, preparing for the practice and qualifying races that would be taking place later today. I hope we hadn’t come at a bad time, there was still so many people to see, yet everybody seemed so busy.

“Ah, thank you, hopefully better than last year.” Ah, of course, Ferrari’s infamous strategy failures. They’d been making a lot this season, I couldn’t imagine how frustrating that was for both Charles and Sainz. “I’m sure it will be.” Mick slapped his shoulder again. “We better head to find Jean.” My brother turned to me as I nodded.

“Good luck.” I turned back to Charles whose lips tugged up into a wider smile. “Thank you, it was nice to meet you.” He nodded, accent thick as I held eye contact, purposefully. As nerve wracking as I found it, I couldn’t look away, this time as he looked back I felt my stomach involuntary fill with butterflies. For the rest of the day it kept knotting whenever I thought about Charles. I’d found myself purposefully looking out for him, on the grid, when he was racing, in the garages- I was intrigued by the Ferrari racer, as was the rest of the world…

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #mick schumacher

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