𝕮𝖔𝖇𝖎𝖊 𝕾𝖒𝖚𝖑𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖘 𝕴𝖒𝖆𝖌𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖘

Aftermath | C.S.

[Minor Angst/Minor Smut]
Inspired by AD IИFINITUM's 'Aftermath'

The room was quiet, bathed in the dim light of dusk creeping through the windows. You stood there, feeling the weight of her presence settle into the air like smoke, thick and suffocating. Cobie was near, as she always was in these moments, a force just on the edge of sight and sound, inescapable, unavoidable. The tension between you two had always been electric—something so visceral, so raw, it felt as though it could burn through every layer of skin down to your core.

You could almost sense her footsteps behind you, that steady, measured stride that seemed to echo with intent. Your pulse quickened, each beat a reminder of how close she was and how inevitable the collision felt. The two of you were locked in a dance, one where each step felt as though it was leading you to the edge of something both thrilling and dangerous. She knew every part of you—every weak spot, every fear, every hidden fragment of your soul that you tried to keep buried. And she had a way of drawing it all out, of unraveling you with just a look, a touch, a whisper.

For a long time, you both played this game, neither giving in, neither willing to admit how deeply each was tangled in the other. Cobie was a presence that seemed to seep into your bones, an unrelenting shadow that never left, even when she wasn't there. The way she looked at you, the way her eyes would linger just a moment too long, her gaze unwavering as if she could see right through you, unraveling the walls you had so carefully built up. She could make you feel exposed, vulnerable, yet at the same time, you were drawn to her, as if some magnetic force bound you to her side.

You knew this wasn't sustainable—that eventually, one of you would have to give, to admit that this wasn't just a passing infatuation but something deeper, darker, something that could consume you both if left unchecked. Yet, here you were, neither of you willing to break away, locked in a silent standoff where every word, every touch, every glance seemed to raise the stakes.

"Can't stay away, can you?" Her voice broke through the silence, low and filled with a challenge that cut through the thick tension like a knife. She was close now, closer than you realized, her gaze piercing as she regarded you with that familiar smirk that both infuriated and enthralled you.

You didn't answer. There was no need to; she could read every shift in your expression, every flicker in your gaze. She moved closer, the space between you dwindling, until there was only a thin layer of tension holding you apart. You could feel her eyes on you, studying you, her gaze intense and unyielding, as if she were peeling back the layers of your skin with each passing second.

The weight of her scrutiny was almost unbearable, pressing down on you with a force that threatened to crush you from the inside out. You wanted to look away, to pull back, to break free from the hold she had on you, but you couldn't. She had this power over you, this ability to make you spin out of control, to send your mind spiraling until you were lost, disoriented, helpless.

"You think you've got me all figured out," you said, your voice barely more than a whisper, a hint of defiance slipping through. "Like you can keep pulling my strings, keep pushing me to the edge without any consequences."

Her lips curled into a slight smile, a glint of amusement dancing in her eyes. "Isn't that what you want?" she asked, her voice smooth, taunting. "To lose control? To let yourself fall?"

Your breath hitched, the words striking something deep within you. She was right, in a way, and that terrified you. There was a part of you that wanted to surrender, to let go, to give in to the chaos that she brought into your life. But there was another part of you, a part that fought against it, that held on, that resisted with every ounce of strength you had left.

But her hands found you, her fingers tracing along your spine, and every thought, every ounce of resistance, began to dissolve. Her touch was like fire, igniting something within you, burning through every defense you'd built, every wall you'd tried to put up. The sensation was overwhelming, consuming, and you felt yourself begin to spin, losing track of where she ended and you began.

"If I go down," you murmured, the words slipping out before you could stop them, "you're coming with me."

Her eyes darkened, her smile fading into something more serious, more intense. The challenge in your words lingered between you, heavy, charged, a promise and a threat wrapped in one. She didn't back away; if anything, she stepped closer, her gaze never wavering, her hand tightening against you as if to anchor you, to ground you even as you felt yourself slipping further into the chaos.

"You think you can take me down?" she whispered, her voice low, dangerous, as her hand moved up, tracing a path along your neck, your jaw, until she was holding your face, her grip firm, unyielding. "You think you have that kind of power over me?"

The question sent a shiver down your spine, a thrill mixed with a hint of fear. She was challenging you, daring you to push back, to fight against the hold she had on you. And for a moment, you found the strength to resist, to meet her gaze with a look of defiance, to push back against the pull she had over you.

But she didn't flinch. She didn't waver. Her grip on you tightened, and you felt yourself start to crack, to crumble under the weight of her presence. She was relentless, unyielding, and you realized with a jolt that there was no escaping this, no escaping her. She had drawn you in, captured you in a web of desire and obsession, and there was no way out.

"If I crash and burn," you whispered, the words slipping out, raw and vulnerable, "you're coming with me."

Her gaze softened, just for a moment, a flicker of something almost tender slipping through. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by the familiar, intense focus that she wore like armor. She leaned in, her breath ghosting against your skin, her lips hovering close to yours, teasing, tempting, driving you to the edge of madness.

"Then take me down with you," she murmured, her voice a soft, seductive challenge. "If you're going to fall, make it count."

And as her lips finally met yours, you felt everything else fade away—the room, the world, everything that wasn't her. The kiss was fierce, consuming, pulling you deeper into the fire that she had ignited within you. It was reckless, dangerous, like standing on the edge of a cliff, knowing that one wrong step could send you both plummeting into the abyss.

But you didn't care. In that moment, with her arms around you, her body pressed against yours, the danger, the thrill, the risk—it all felt worth it. You would fall, you would spin, you would crash and burn, but you would take her with you. The two of you were bound together, caught in a spiral of passion and chaos, and there was no escaping it.