#(not to mention how things with this media eventually ended)

[classyrbf]

THE MAN I USED TO KNOW! #2 — SUGURU GETO

SYNOPSIS...you feel suguru has grown distant your relationship, leaving you lonely and confused, so when you confront him in hopes to find reassurance, you find out the worst instead

INFO...geto x fem!reader, angst, mentions of cheating, mentions of breakup, arguing in public, no comfort, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

part 1

It’s been a month since you left the apartment. A month since he’s last heard your voice. A month since he’s last seen you. He can’t tell what’s so different now, what makes him feel like he suddenly cares about you and how things ended. In his mind it doesn’t make any sense. How could someone be said he fell out of love with, cheated on, suddenly be plaguing his heart like a disease. You were hard to get rid of.

He stays up at night, staring up at the ceiling after trying hours and hours to fall asleep, only to fail. The house is so quiet you could hear a pin drop and the bed feels so empty and cold. Not a sound could be heard, not your small breaths as you slept, or your touch when you cuddled against him in the night because you wanted to feel loved by him.

He twisted and turned in the bed, flipping over to your side, staring at the pillow. He swears he could smell your perfume faintly on the fabric, but that could be his mind playing tricks on him. It’s been doing that ever since. Dinner was always takeout, never the warm home cooked meals that you always had prepared. He was starting to get sick of the taste, opting out of eating in general because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t replicate your cooking.

A deep sigh leaves his lips as he sit up, feet planting on the hardwood floor. His phone rings loudly, illuminating the dark room. He slowly turns his head, looking at the caller ID. It was the woman who he threw everything away for temporary pleasure. He’d been ignoring her calls ever since that day and he doesn’t know what overcame him, but he decided to finally pick up the call. “Hello?” He answered, voice scruffy and gravely.

��Suguru! Finally you pick up! Why have you been ignoring my texts and calls?” She asked frantically.

He rolled his eyes, shutting them. “It’s the middle of the night can we not do this?” He rubbed the bridge of his nose, shaking his head.

“Is it because of her? Are you two still together? I thought you said you were going to end things with her eventually? What changed?” She was asking question after question which only made him more irritated than he already was. “I miss you, Sugu,” she pouted.

The nickname made him wince, reminding him of how gently you used to call his name. “I need to go.” He abruptly hung up the call. His thumb hovered over his screen, pressing on his messages and scrolling to find your name. His jaw clenched at the sight of the contact name he had for you, forgetting to change it.

“My girl” it read.

He clicked on the contact, eyes scanning over the last messages that were sent. It was the day he told you, the day it all fell apart.

Geto: might be a little late for dinner

My girl: no worries, I’ll keep it warm :)

Even when you were falling apart you always treated him with kindness. It was never about the arguments, not with you. Yeah, sure you’d fight with each other, screaming matches back and forth. But, that’s normal in a relationship. Sometimes things lead to disagreements. It’s only when he took it too far, grew distant, fell out of love, cheated, while you were at home, waiting for him each and every night.

“Fuck,” he whispers under his breath, contemplating to text you. He stares at the screen for a few more seconds before deciding to close his phone, placing it back down on the nightstand.

The smell of fresh brewed coffee filled the air, a quiet atmosphere settled around you as you sat at a small table, scrolling through social media. It was a cold early morning, soft snow flurries fell from the cloudy sky and painted the ground in a blinding white. It was the perfect day to relax in a cozy coffee shop and enjoy yourself, something you haven’t done in a long time.

From time to time, your brain wanders to that night you found out Suguru was cheating on you. It still makes your heart twinge, an odd feeling in your chest. You’d cry countless times in one day, wondering what it was that you did, how you could have been better. There were so many questions that you still had to ask, but you weren’t sure if you wanted answers. Sometimes ignorance is bliss. You’d think about them, wondering if Suguru and whoever the woman he was seeing were now happy together, living in the apartment that you once shared with him.

You sipped on your coffee, the hot liquid trickling down your throat. The cold breeze from the outside blew into the coffee shop as the door opened for a few seconds, the bell above letting out a high pitched ding.

“Morning, could I small latte, please?” The familiar voice made your body freeze in place, eyebrows raising in slight shock. Lifting your head, you seen the familiar long, black, silky hair. Quickly, you looked away, scrolling on your phone. The longer you looked at him, the more afraid you’d threaten to break down in tears, maybe even scream at him. “Thank you,” he softly spoke.

It felt like time froze, the more you sat here, the harder it felt to get up. Did he already see you? Maybe he’s ignoring you too? While your thoughts were telling you one thing, trying to convince you of some other reality, you could feel eyes burning into your skull. You didn’t dare turn around to see if he was looking at you. With flared nostrils, you inhaled deeply, clearly your throat to rid of the awkwardness, mindlessly scrolling on your phone to make it look like you were busy.

It was getting to the point where you couldn’t take it anymore. As soon as the barista called for his coffee, you were quick to stand from your seat, grabbing your wallet and coffee off the table and making a dash for the door. The cold winter breeze hit your skin as soon as you stepped out, a cold chill sending down your spine.

“Y/n.” You halted in your tracks at the sound of your name. With closed eyes, you let out a deep sigh. Do you keep walking? Do you turn around and face him? Would you be able to keep your composure for even a second if your eyes meet his?

The snow under your feet stuck to your boots, heels twisting into the ground. You were now facing him. It felt like every memory that you shared with him came flashing back in an instant—good and bad. Your heart felt conflicted, knowing you still had time to walk away. His mouth partially opened like he wanted to say something, anything, but nothing came out. He looked defeated, stuck in place. His eyes could do nothing but scan your features, search for any hint that you were felt the same for him like he felt for you. But he highly doubts that. “How have you been?” He asked.

Clenching your jaw, you narrowed your eyes at him, stuffing your hands into your pockets. “Fine.” You shrugged. Your tone was bitter and cold, one that he wasn’t familiar with. There you both stood in the middle of the sidewalk, snowflakes kissing your skin, stinging your cheeks. “What do you want, Geto?”

The use of his last name makes his heart sink into his stomach, a weird feeling in his chest. He bit the inside of his cheek, shaking his head with pinched brows. “I…I don’t know,” he said barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry, y/n. I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t get to say you’re sorry when you don’t mean it. You’re only saying it because you got caught. I don’t think you understand what you did. At all.” Surprisingly, your voice was calm and composed compared to the last time you spoke with him. It was hard not to lash out, but you knew it wouldn’t make you feel any better than you already did. “I loved you, Geto. It’s sad that you didn’t realize that sooner. Look,” you step closer to him, “I don’t know where our relationship took such a turn, I don’t know the exact moment you fell out of love, but I genuinely hope you find someone who is worth your time.” You softly smiled.

“You were worth my time!” He said with desperation, almost like he was begging.

“No, I wasn’t. And it’s fine, I accept that.” You nod your head at him. “You can feel regret, you can change your mind, but you can’t undo what you did,” you state.

“I miss you, y/n, so fucking much. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat. All I ever think about is you, how I hurt you, brushed you aside—”

“Just stop, please. Nothing is going to change my mind, no matter what you say.” You chew on your bottom lip, a look of sincerity in your eyes.

“No, don’t say that. Come on. Please,” he begs, watery eyes looking at you.

“Let me go, Geto. It’s best for the both of us.” You felt your eyes sting with tears, your vision blurry as you tried your hardest to hold them back. You didn’t want him to see you cry again, he didn’t deserve it.

“What if I don’t want to? What if I can’t?” He had a pained expression on his face, closing the distance between you two. It’s the closest he’s been able to get you, the closest he’s felt to you in long time. He doesn’t mean physically, he means emotionally, mentally. It shouldn’t be under these circumstances, not when he’s ripped your heart in two. It should be when he’s holding you at home, his lips on yours as he tells you how much he loves you, because he does love you. He realized it when you walked out that door.

“Then I’ll make the decision for you.” You turned away from him beginning to walk away, the cold wing hitting your skin, your eyes burning.

Geto pulled you back by your hand, your touch warm and soft in his. “I’m not letting you walk away again.”

“Let me go, Geto—”

“I love you, y/n. I need you. I wanna feel your love again, your warmth, your laughs, I want it all.” His grip grew tighter, a tear falling from his eye as he stared at you. A frown formed on his face, the tears he was holding back all this time came rushing out.

“You didn’t want it then. What makes you think you deserve it now? Huh? Now you know how it feels.” Your tone was harsh, like sending daggers straight into his heart. You snatched your hand from his. “You cheated over a petty argument, not once, not twice, but several times you’d meet up with her, lie to my face! Do you know what went through my head? How disgusted I felt with myself? I was questioning my worth, wondering if I was enough for anyone! I shouldn’t fucking feel like that!” You pushed him, hot tears warming your cold cheeks. “Leave me alone! Please! Just do this one thing for me.” You sniffled, your feet moving before you could think, walking away from him.

Once more, he watched you slip away, your figure disappearing into the snow. He swallowed thickly, looking down at the cup of fresh coffee he had yet to take a sip from. He tossed it. The content spilling on spilling on the ground and staining the glistening snow. He no longer had an appetite for anything anymore. The pit inside his chest grew larger, sucking him in like a black hole.

He stood there for what felt like minutes, hoping, waiting to see you walking towards him again. But the wind just howled loudly and the cars drove past without a care in the world. Everyone has their own lives to live, their own stories. Though, in his story, he’d live with regret, guilt, and shame until the very end. Even if he does manage to find someone else, love someone else, live his life to the fullest, just know you’d always be in back of his mind as a reminder of every horrible thing about himself.

[propertyofwicked]

DIAL DRUNK - LN

summary - lando had always been her rock, her best friend whose laughter brightened her darkest days. but when she drifted away after starting a new relationship, lando was left confused and heartbroken, eventually discovering the painful truth of her struggles and the depths of his unwavering loyalty.

warnings - mention of toxic + somewhat abusive boyfriend (not lando), fighting, alcohol - happy ending (cos im not mean)

please stay safe and dont read this if any of these warnings will effect you! i will be back with a new post soon! look after yourselves <3

✧ my inbox is open ✧

masterlist the playlist

lando norris had always been the light in her life, the best friend who made everything better with his infectious laughter and unwavering support. their bond was unbreakable, or so he thought. but when she started dating her new boyfriend, everything changed. she stopped answering his calls, missed their regular meet-ups, and slowly drifted away. everyone was surprised when she stopped showing up to races, or when she no longer appeared on lando’s instagram - both in pictures and the comments.

lando was confused and hurt, but he respected her decision, believing she was simply busy with her new relationship. and even if he only heard from her when she sent a text to congratulate him on a race result, he was just happy she was still supporting him from wherever she was.

the first time she hadn’t attended one of his races, he had texted her afterward, "missed you this weekend, hope everything's okay." her reply came hours later: "sorry, got caught up with something. next time for sure." but there was no next time. race after race, her absence was palpable.

the missed calls were harder to ignore. at first, she would call back with an excuse. "sorry, my phone was on silent," or "i was out with friends, lost track of time." but soon, she stopped calling back altogether. lando's messages grew more worried, but he tried to keep them light. "everything alright? feels like we haven't talked in ages." the responses were always brief, vague, and unsatisfying. "yeah, just busy. talk soon."

then came the day he saw a picture of her and her boyfriend on social media. they looked happy, but something about her smile seemed off. forced. he left a comment, something friendly and supportive, but she didn't reply. she didn't even like the comment. lando felt a knot in his stomach. something was wrong, but he didn't know what, and she wasn't letting him in.

the isolation gnawed at him. he missed their late-night conversations, the way they would laugh until their sides hurt. he missed her being the first person he called with good news, and the one who would cheer him up when things didn't go as planned. it was like a piece of his life had gone missing, and he had no idea how to get it back.

one night, after a particularly tough race, lando found himself dialling her number, despite knowing she probably wouldn't answer. the phone rang and rang, and just as he was about to hang up, she picked up. her voice was a whisper.

"lando, i can't talk right now."

"what's going on?" he asked, his voice breaking. "why are you shutting me out?"

there was a long pause. he could hear her breathing, could almost feel the weight of whatever she was struggling with.

"it's... complicated," she finally said. "i'm sorry."

"complicated how?" he pressed.

"i can't," she whispered. "i'm sorry." and then she hung up.

lando stared at his phone, feeling more lost and helpless than ever. what had happened to her? why was she pushing him away? he couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong, but without her willing to talk, he had no way to help her.

the texts and calls grew less frequent. she stopped liking his posts, stopped commenting on his photos. it was like she had disappeared from his life entirely. the only sign he had that she was still out there were the occasional texts after a race, short messages of congratulations that felt hollow and distant.

each time his phone buzzed with one of those messages, it was a bittersweet moment. he was glad she still cared enough to reach out, but the emptiness of her words was a constant reminder of how far apart they had drifted. he missed her more than he could put into words, and the pain of her absence was a constant ache in his chest.

he truly didn’t expect to see her that night, especially not stood at the bar of a busy club that he and max had gone to, and not stood alone.

“y/n hey!” he called out, approaching her quickly and taking her in a quick embrace as he tried desperately to ignore the way she flinches and stiffened her posture.

“hi!” she replied, smiling at him nonetheless.

“how have you been? i feel like i haven’t seen you in a while.”

“i’m ok - how are you? still reeling from your first win?” she replied again, her posture softening as the bar tender handed her a glass of white wine. again, lando tried to ignore how different this was - he’d never seen her drink anything other than a malibu coke when they went out.

“i guess you could say that,” he responded happily, though not without noticing how different she looked - the was smaller, and her natural smile was gone, replaced with this horrid fake grin he had only seen on a handful of occasions, “who are you here with?”

“oh! i came with mich-”

“michael. and you are..?”

the voice had interrupted her, and her shoulders peaked up in anxiety once more as her boyfriend stood behind her, his frame towering hers slightly. he had his hand stuck out, in attempt to greet lando as if he had no idea who he was. he did. in fact, lando was a sore spot in his and y/n’s relationship.

“lando,” he replied, though neglecting to shake his hand, “i’ll leave you to it. come say hi before you leave,” he added, before turning swiftly on his heel to re-join max and a few others of their friends who had joined.

and as his drinks kept flowing, so did his thoughts. lando’s eyes were drawn to the table she sat on, looking out of place surrounded by michael and his friends. this wasn’t the y/n he knew, but he feared this was the new her, the her who was no longer his friend, no longer the girl that would spend hours with him doing everything and nothing at the same time.

lando wasn’t quite sure how drunk he was, not until he was stumbling to and from the bathroom, his vision clouded but not enough to distract him from the fact that y/n and michael had left their booth, and yet he wasn’t surprised that she hadn’t come to say goodbye. he himself thought it best to call it a night and head back to the comfort of his flat.

but then he saw them. she was arguing with her boyfriend, tears streaming down her face as michael was yelling, his grip on her arm tight and aggressive.

"you've had a face like a slapped arse all night," he snarled, his voice low but seething with anger. "you refuse to enjoy yourself unless it's your idea. you're so selfish."

"i'm not," she pleaded, her voice breaking. "i just... i don't feel comfortable here."

"oh, really? you never feel comfortable anywhere unless you're in control," michael spat, shaking her slightly. "you ruin everything."

"that's not true," she sobbed, trying to pull away. "please, michael, just let me go."

"no, we're going to sort this out right now," he growled, his grip tightening.

lando's heart pounded with a mixture of rage and concern, quickly finding himself pushing the door to the club open, barely allowing the cold night air to engulf him before he was striding over to the couple.

"hey, let her go!" lando demanded, stepping between them.

"this is none of your business," michael sneered, not loosening his grip.

"it is when you're hurting her," lando shot back, his voice steady but eyes blazing with anger. he could see the fear in her eyes, and it broke his heart.

"lando, please," she whispered, her voice trembling. "just go."

"i'm not leaving you with him," lando said firmly. "not like this."

“leave it, lando. i’m fine, i promise,” she continued shakily.

“oh yeah - defend him. as per fucking usual y/n,” michael yelled once more, letting go of his grip on her arm to push her back, the two men watching as she stumbled, almost losing her footing. lando stepped quickly, grabbing her waist softly, but enough to steady her once more.

“you ok?” he whispered to her, waiting for her to nod quickly at him then spinning around to face her boyfriend once more. before he could open his mouth to speak, michael’s fist was swiftly approaching lando’s face, to which he only missed slightly - only briefly making contact with his cheek as lando dodged the hit.

“right. so that’s how we’re playing this? cool,” lando announced, no longer trying to keep his calmness at the forefront of his mind as he raised his own fist, landing a punch square to the man’s face, driven by a protective instinct, months of pent-up frustration, and, quite potentially, the alcohol streaming through him. someone called the police, and before lando knew it, he was being pulled away, handcuffed and led to a police car.

“sir - your emergency contact is still not answering our calls - is there anyone else you’d like us to call?”

lando's heart sank, feeling like he had truly lost her.

“who did michael call as his emergency contact?” lando asked the officer, ignoring his previous question.

“we can’t disclose that information,” the officer responded with a sigh, but looked around the room quickly before adding a hushed, “it wasn’t her. if that helps.”

lando nodded at him quickly, trying to think of anyone who could come and pick him up from the station.

“try my friend max - his number should be in my phone somewhere,” lando told him to which the officer turned to go and retrieve his phone from evidence having not needed it before as he remembered y/n’s number like it was his own name. as the officer handed him his phone, he hesitated.

“listen,” he began softly, “someone who won’t even pick up the phone... are they really worth a potential assault charge?”

lando felt a surge of anger mixed with a deep sadness. “yes, she is. or at least, the version of her that i knew was worth it,” he said firmly. “she’s been through a lot. it’s not her fault.”

any rational person would not be defending someone who had ghosted them for months on end. he was overwhelmed, sad, angry - but rational? he was far from it right now.

the officer nodded, seeing the determination in lando’s eyes. “alright, i hope things work out for you both.”

“mr norris? your ride is here,” a new officer announced an hour later, handing lando a bag of his personal belongings before sending him through the door. stood face to face with max in a police station was not his idea of a nice night out.

“come on, mate. let’s get you home,” max said, smiling sadly at him as he led them to his car, “so, when’s the court date?”

“there isn’t one, luckily,” lando told him, buckling himself in and leaning into the seat in exhaustion, “injuries weren’t severe enough and he didn’t want to press charges.”

“lucky, indeed,” max hummed, “can i ask why?”

“you can ask. do i have to answer?”

“no, i guess not.”

“good.”

the car ride was silent from then on until they arrived at lando’s building, bidding each other goodbye quickly, before parting ways. lando swore the elevator was slower at 3am as he returned to his apartment, exhausted and disheartened.

as he approached his door, he saw her sitting on the door matt, her makeup ruined by tears. she looked up, eyes filled with sorrow and regret.

"lando," she choked out, standing up. lando didn't say anything at first, shocked that she was really here. he just pulled her into a tight hug, holding her as she sobbed against his chest.

"it's okay," he whispered. "i'm just glad you're here now."

they stood there for a long time, wrapped in each other's arms. finally, she pulled back, looking up at him with red-rimmed eyes.

"i'm so sorry,” she started again, pushing through her tears, “does it hurt?” she asked him, her fingers running softly over the slight bruising that dusted his cheeks.

“oh this? this is nothing - you should see the other guy,” he joked, trying to ignore his own pain, desperate to see her smile.

“i don’t think i want to see the other guy ever again,” she replied remorsefully.

“why did you do it, y/n? why did you disappear? why did you change?”

“i-i didn’t mean to. i didn’t want to lando, really. i didn’t,” she defended, “but he would just get so jealous, so angry, any time i spoke to you, or about you. he would say things. about me. about you. things that hurt. and i just kept thinking that maybe it would get better. maybe it would stop.”

“but it didn’t,” lando added for her, trailing off slightly. she didn’t respond verbally, rather, she merely nodded at him.

“oh y/n,” he sympathised, “you should’ve said, i could’ve done something. anything.”

“i just- i thought he liked me y’know. i thought maybe after a while he’d come around. and then he would guilt me into missing your races, or delete your messages from my phone. i never meant to ignore you lan, i promise,” she sighed, tears still cascading down her face, “can you ever forgive me?"

"there's nothing to forgive," lando said softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face, "you were in a tough situation. i'm just sorry i couldn't help you. god knows i would do anything to help you, angel."

she nodded, tears still falling, but there was a small, hopeful smile on her lips. "thank you, lando. for everything."

“come on, you want a cuppa?”

“always.”

“there she is,” he smiled at her widely, “there’s the y/n i know.”

the two shuffled inside, and lando made her a cup of tea just like old times. they talked for hours, about everything and nothing until any awkwardness from their separation dissipated into the night, until the sun began to rise. the start of a new day.

"i missed you," she whispered, her head resting on his shoulder as they sat together on the sofa, their skin illuminated by the orange tinge of sun peaking through the large windows.

"i missed you too," lando replied, gently kissing the top of her head. "and i'm never letting anything come between us again."

“tell me about miami,” she asked after a few moments of silence.

“ive already told you 3 times tonight.”

“i know, but i want to hear it again,” she whined, “i’ll never forgive myself for not being there.”

she smiled as he began to talk again, feeling safe and loved for the first time in a long while. they stayed like that, wrapped in each other's presence, knowing that whatever came next, they would face it together.

[monzabee]

run for the hills – lh44 (+18)

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where fate decides to bring you back into Lewis’ life, making him question his belief in fate.  

Pairing: lewis hamilton x rosberg!reader

Word Count: 9.3k 

Warnings: cursing, crying, drinking and mentions of alcohol, mentions of brocedes (rip), kissing, unprotected sex (you shouldn’t be surprised at this point), oral (m receiving), hand kink, praise kink, minors dni!!

Request: “hey, Merry Christmas 🫶🏽 I was hoping I could request a Lewis smut fic where the reader is Nico Rosberg's sister (with a age gap of around 6-8 years with him and Lewis) and before 2016 they were just really close friends who just kissed once but chose to pretend it didn't happen. after years, they run into each other at a club or a party and they're pretty snappy at each other but there's a lot of tension too and they end up having sex where Lewis is really cocky and also the reader has a hand kink and praise kink? I'm so sorry if I made it too long, i love your writing <33” + “oooo please could i request something w lewis?! something gut wrenchingly angsty? sorry i don’t really have a plot in mind hhhh thank you heheh”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! HAPPY NEW YEAR, i started this fic last week and i honestly didn't think I'd finish it this quickly but here we are. don't let my words fool you, i got the request last christmas but if you know me then you know that i am not quick when it comes to working on requests (i'm working on this i promise), not that this fic is even remotely christmassy, but let’s just appreciate that it is supposed to be set during the holiday period lol. this was supposed to be a shorter one but here we are, lol, i'm not even surprised at my inability to keep things short at this point. i posted this fic and realised i forgot to copy and paste a big chunk of it so oh well. as always, feedback is appreciated, and i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee 

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

Lewis decided he doesn’t like cold a long time ago. That’s why, being the ever-decisive person he is, he chooses to spend his winter vacationing in places like the Maldives or Bali. His decisiveness is an important part of him, given what he does for a living. When he is on the track, in his car, there is no room for hesitation – he needs to be able to make split-second decisions under intense pressure, what’s not to love about that? So, once he decided he’d rather spend his time off basking in the sun rather than freezing to death somewhere else, he never looked back. He enjoys spending his time off in someplace tropical with his family, or without his family; most of the times away from the prying eyes and camera lenses of the media. 

But this time, it’s different – he's alone. 

Or rather, he thought he would be alone. The villa he rented out for the duration of the month is isolated, just how he likes it. He wakes up to the sound of waves crashing against the shore right outside his windows, and the distant chirping of tropical birds to accompany him as he lounges on the large deck, overlooking the infinite expanse of blue. There are no spectators around to gauge his reaction, try to get him to speak out about his plans for the next year when he moves to Ferrari, or what he’s going to do when he eventually retires one day. He hasn’t seen anyone from the racing world for weeks, and it’s been a much-needed break. He’d usually love to spend Christmas with his family, the only time he would ever tolerate the cold being when he is with his family, but this year he just wanted to get away on his own. 

There is no one around that expect anything from him. Just peace. 

He’s not a hermit, of course, but he enjoys spending his time by himself mostly isolated from all the other guests of the touristic area he’s staying in. The chef that works at the villa is on call for when Lewis decides that he wants to stay in for the night, the housekeeping staff come every morning to clean up around the house, then promptly leave, providing Lewis with the privacy he so desperately needs. But other than that, and a few nights spent outside in a restaurant or a club? He is all alone, and he is not complaining about it. Another thing about Lewis Hamilton is that he doesn’t believe in fate. He believes in setting and achieving goals; after all, that’s what he’s done all his life. His success isn’t some cosmic coincidence. It’s years of sacrifice by his parents, relentless effort, and unwavering determination. So, when things happen that feel serendipitous, like running into someone from his past, he doesn’t chalk it up to destiny. He chalks it up to the sheer unpredictability of life. 

And yet, as he steps out of the villa to head to a nearby beach club after dinner, he doesn’t expect to run into you, especially not after how the things ended last time, but there you are. His eyes find you at the bar with some guy next to you – he has to do a double take. Just to make sure, he tells himself. But no matter how many times his attention reverts to you, he knows it’s you. Of course, it’s you. Though he’s not a believer in fate or destiny, or whatever you might want to call it, there you are – dressed in a flowy linen dress. His first instinct is to ask the server to seat him somewhere else so that he wouldn’t have stare at you and your ‘date’ for the night. His grip on the glass in his hand tightens momentarily, and he exhales slowly, forcing himself to look away. This is not the moment, he tells himself. It’s not his business, not anymore. But still, his gaze drifts back to you. You’re laughing at something the guy says, your head tilted slightly as you sip from your drink. He can’t hear your laughter, no – but what a sound that would be to hear, he thinks for a moment. 

He knows he shouldn’t care who you’re with or what you’re doing; it’s been years since the two of you shared anything beyond... well anything, really. But something about seeing you here, in this place he thought was his private retreat from the world, feels like a twist of fate – or the kind of cosmic joke he claims not to believe in. But his eyes watch you as you throw you head back in a laugh and he can practically hear the sound in his head, his mind taking him to years ago when he used to be one of the people who got to hear it first hand; when he joined your family on karting days, or when you celebrated with him when he won a race, or even back to that one time when him and Nico were trying to drive those unicycles and you kept doubling over in laughter when they fell down – something your brother did not appreciate, but Lewis couldn’t help the smile that crept on his face as he watched you from the ground.  

Somethings never change, he thinks, as he notices the smallest of smiles that has crept its way onto his face, quickly disappearing the moment he catches himself. He knows it shouldn’t matter to him – let alone bother him. But old habits die hard, and the sight of your smile, that easy laugh, stirs something in him that feels like both longing and a pang of annoyance. You’ve always had a way of getting under his skin. Back then, it was teasing remarks that somehow felt more genuine than any praise he received elsewhere. He catches himself glancing your way again, his jaw tightening when the guy beside you leans in a little too close. It’s irrational, this surge of jealousy that claws at his chest. He knows he has no right to feel this way, but that doesn’t stop it from burning through him. He looks down at his drink, willing himself to focus on anything but you. But memories have a way of sneaking up on him, unbidden. The days spent at karting tracks, the shared dinners with your family, the quiet moments when it was just the two of you, talking about everything and nothing at all. Back then, it was easy. Natural. Like you were two pieces of a puzzle that fit together perfectly, until you didn’t. 

Just then, you glance over, your eyes scanning the room before they land on him. For a moment, everything stills. The laughter fades from your face, replaced by something unreadable. Surprise, maybe. Or recognition. His breath catches in his throat, and he curses himself for the way his chest tightens under your gaze. He watches as you excuse yourself, heading towards the restrooms, and he swears he has never gotten up so fast and walked so fast in his life. He doesn’t think, he just moves until he spots you in the hallway, queued behind some people waiting for the bathroom line. What kind of a club only has one bathroom? He thinks, but that’s not the point. 

He clears his throat. 

You turn, eyes widening in that familiar, guarded way. “Lewis.” Your lips open in shock as you glance behind him and then focus on him again, “Did- did you follow me here?”  

“Were you on a date with that guy?” The words come out of his mouth before he can stop himself, his voice colder than he expects. 

You blink, taken aback by the question. “Excuse me?” 

He stands there, regretting the words as soon as they leave his mouth, but that doesn’t stop the irritation from creeping up his spine. His gaze flickers to the bar behind him, where the guy you were with is still talking to the bartender, oblivious to what’s going on. “I asked if you were on a date,” he repeats, a little sharper this time as he emphasises the last word. 

You raise an eyebrow, the surprise on your face melting into something more guarded, a mix of disbelief and annoyance. “What if I was?” You cross your arms, your eyes narrowing. “Maybe I’m just out enjoying my night. Ever think of that?” 

He feels a rush of heat in his chest. “It’s not like I care,” he mutters, though it’s clear from the edge in his voice that he does. “Just curious.” 

You scoff, your lips curling into a sarcastic smile. “Sure, Lewis.” 

“So?” He inquires, “Are you? On a date with that guy, I mean.” 

You raise an eyebrow, clearly not amused. “Are you serious right now?” you snap, your arms tightening across your chest. “You’re standing here, in the middle of a hallway, asking me about my love life? What is this, high school?” 

Lewis feels the heat rise in his neck, irritation mixing with a sense of frustration he doesn’t quite understand. “I’m not asking for your life story, just... just an answer. Is it that hard?” His voice is tight, but he doesn’t back down. 

You scoff again, your lips curling into something between a smirk and a sneer. “You really think you can just waltz back in and start demanding answers like we’re still... You know what? Yes, Lewis, I’m on a date.” You throw a glance over your shoulder at the guy still sitting at the bar. “We met on the beach at the hotel I’m staying at, and I thought I’d let him treat me to a dinner and a couple of drinks before I’d let him fuck me six ways to Sunday.” You roll your eyes at someone on the queue gasping at your choice of words. “Not that it’s any of your business. Are you happy now?” 

Lewis’s hand grips your wrist, a little too tight, and without warning, he’s tugging you away from the bar, his jaw clenched. “Come on,” he mutters, his tone low and urgent, as he steers you towards the back exit. You’re caught off guard, stumbling to keep up with his forceful pace, your heart hammering in your chest. 

“What the hell, Lewis? Let go of me!” you snap, yanking your arm free once you're outside in the chill night air. The chill hits you like a slap, the heat of the club’s atmosphere fading behind you as the door slams shut. 

“Seriously?” he spits, his eyes flashing with a mix of anger and frustration. “You’re gonna play it like that?” 

You take a step back, crossing your arms over your chest. “I don’t know what game you're playing at, but I’m not interested. What the hell was that back there? Dragging me out like I’m some kind of... of property?” 

He glares at you, his fists clenched at his sides. “You’re unbelievable.” His voice rises, sharp and cutting. “I ask you a simple question, and you throw that crap at me? What the hell did you think I was supposed to do? Just stand there and pretend like I didn’t care?” 

You laugh bitterly, shaking your head. “Pretend like you don’t care? That’s rich coming from you. You don’t get to just waltz in, after all this time, and act like you can demand answers, Lewis. Like you have any right to know what’s going on in my life.” 

“Your brother would be so disappointed in you right now.” His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, the air between you two freezes. The breeze picks up, but the sudden silence makes the world feel too loud.  

“You don’t get to talk about my brother,” you seethe, as Lewis's face hardens, his jaw tensing, but it’s the look in his eyes that hits hardest — it’s a mixture of hurt and fury, both so raw, you almost feel sorry for what you’ve just unleashed. 

“What did you just say?” His voice is low, almost dangerously so, the words slipping through clenched teeth. 

You swallow, but it doesn’t help the sharp edge in your voice. “You heard me. You don’t get to talk about him, you don’t get to fuck up my life and you don’t get to come back here acting like you still have any claim on me or my life.” You’re breathing heavily now, the anger and hurt mixing into a bitter cocktail that you can’t quite swallow – funnily enough, Lewis can smell the cocktail you had earlier. “You left. You made your choice, Lewis. And now you don’t get to barge back in and pretend like I owe you anything.” 

Lewis stands in front of you, his chest rising and falling with each breath. His eyes are dark, his jaw tight as he processes your words. He doesn’t know when the two of you got closer together, he can practically feel the anger radiating off you, “You think I don’t know that?” he spits, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “You think I don’t know what I did?” His voice cracks slightly, the vulnerability slipping out before he can stop it. “I fucked up, alright? I fucked up more than you’ll ever understand. We all did – me, Nico, you.” 

“You don’t get to make me feel guilty about this, Lewis. You don’t get to act like I’m the one who fucked everything up.” Your voice shakes, but you keep going, the words coming faster, more bitter. “You kissed me and called it an ‘accident’, a fluke. You fought with Nico every chance you got. I had to pick up the pieces on my own.” 

Lewis flinches at your words, but his anger doesn’t dissipate—if anything, it only sharpens. His hands remain balled into fists at his sides, but there’s something else behind his eyes now, something raw, something almost desperate. “We wouldn’t have worked out,” he mutters, it’s something that he said to himself time and time again to convince himself of it, “I am– was your brother’s friend, you–” 

“You were my friend, too!” You exclaim, your hands swatting at his arms, chest – anywhere you can reach. “You left me, as if I meant nothing to you! You stole my first kiss and shattered my life to pieces on the same day!” You manage to get in some good hits despite Lewis’ attempts to calm you down, and the lump in your throat makes it harder for you to continue talking, “Do you know how many times I wondered if you kissed me just to piss Nico off? Do you know how that feels?” 

“What?” He asks, his voice low. Each hit, each accusation, it stings. But nothing hits harder than the raw emotion in your eyes – hurt, betrayal, and the weight of everything he left behind. He opens his mouth to speak, but the words catch in his throat. “You think I kissed you to get at Nico?” he says finally, his voice quieter now but no less intense. There’s an edge of disbelief, of hurt, as if the idea itself cuts deeper than your accusations. “Do you really think so little of me?” 

You cross your arms tightly over your chest, holding yourself together in the face of his raw honesty. “I don’t know what to think, Lewis. What was I supposed to think back then? You shut me out. You made me feel like it never happened – like I never happened.” 

“You were twenty-three years old,” he points out, “our age difference–” 

“Oh please,” you scoff, pushing at his chest one last time, “you’ve fucked girls younger than that.” 

Lewis flinches at your words, as if they’ve struck a nerve he didn’t even know was exposed. His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he doesn’t say anything. “You don’t get to throw that in my face,” he finally says, his voice low and clipped, tinged with a kind of frustration that feels different from before. 

“Why?” You ask, head cocked to the side. “I can’t comment on you fucking other people, but you can question my actions because I want to fuck–” 

“Say ‘fuck’ one more time and I swear I’ll–” 

“—what, Lewis?” you snap, cutting him off before he can finish his threat. “You’ll what? Walk away again? Pretend this conversation never happened, just like you did last time?” 

His jaw clenches, the muscles in his face tightening as he tries to rein in his emotions. “Don’t push me,” he warns, his voice low and taut, but there’s no real menace in it—only desperation. 

“Oh, I’m pushing?” You laugh bitterly, throwing your hands up. “I’m the one pushing? You’re the one who showed up here, dredging up every memory I’ve spent years trying to bury. Don’t you dare put this on me, Lewis.” 

“You think this is easy for me?” he shoots back, his voice rising. “You think I don’t hate myself for what I did? For what I didn’t do? I’ve lived with this every single day, and you—” 

“Fuck you!” you shout, stepping closer, your finger jabbing into his chest. “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck–” 

His hands shoot up, grabbing your wrists – not harshly, but firmly enough to stop your movements. You don’t even fully register how quickly he pushes you against the wall, “You think I ran off and lived some perfect life?” he hisses, his face inches from yours as he inhales deeply. “You think I didn’t miss you every goddamn day? You think I didn’t lie awake at night, wishing I’d had the guts to ask you to stay?” 

His words hit you like a tidal wave, the rawness in his voice leaving you momentarily speechless. For a moment, the anger in his eyes softens, replaced by something else – something that feels far too close to the hope you’ve been trying to suppress. “Well... yeah.” You inwardly cringe how your voice sounds so weak, but Lewis tilts your chin back to make you look at him.  

“Is that so?” He mumbles, thumb caressing your chin as his eyes hungrily take in how your chest moves with each deep breath your inhale and exhale.  

Your breath hitches as his thumb lingers, his gaze dropping to your lips like he’s fighting every instinct to close the distance between you. “Lewis...” you start, but his name comes out softer than you intend, more of a plea than the warning you meant it to be. 

“What?” he murmurs, his voice low and dangerous, but there’s a softness to it, an undercurrent of vulnerability that sends your heart racing. “What do you want me to do, huh? Walk away again? Because I can’t. Not this time.” 

You shake your head slightly, but his grip on your chin keeps you from fully looking away. “I don’t know what I want,” you admit, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “I don’t even know how to feel about you anymore.” 

His eyes darken, and his jaw tightens, but he doesn’t let go. Instead, he leans in, his forehead almost brushing yours. “Then let me remind you,” he says, his voice a low rasp. 

Your pulse quickens, every nerve in your body screaming at you to push him away – or pull him closer and he tension between you is suffocating. “Don’t,” you whisper, but your voice wavers, betraying the battle waging inside you. 

“Don’t what?” he asks, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours. “Don’t do this?” You don’t answer, your throat too tight, your mind too clouded with memories, anger, and something else you’re not ready to name. He waits, his breath mingling with yours, his patience stretching thin. “Say the word,” he whispers, his voice rough with restraint. “Tell me to stop, and I will. I will let you go back and take him back to your room and do whatever you want.” 

But you don’t say it. You can’t. Because as much as you hate him, as much as you want to scream at him, cry, and push him away... you also want this. Want him. 

And Lewis knows it. 

His hand releases your wrist, sliding down to your waist as his other hand stays on your chin, tilting your face toward him. The kiss that follows isn’t soft, isn’t sweet – it’s desperate, raw, and filled with years of unspoken words. It’s anger and longing, heartbreak, and desire, all crashing together in a way that steals your breath and sends your heart into overdrive. A softer kiss might have been what you wanted, but Lewis knows this is what you need. His body presses against yours, and your hands instinctively find his shoulders, clinging to him as if letting go would leave you falling apart. His lips are warm and insistent, the taste of him intoxicating. Every move, every touch, feels like he’s trying to make up for everything he never said, everything he left behind. 

The kiss deepens, each second unravelling more of the carefully constructed armour you’ve built around your heart. His fingers grip your waist tighter, grounding you even as everything else feels like it’s spinning. You can feel the heat radiating off him with every press of his body against yours. Your mind screams at you to stop, to think, to pull away before you lose yourself completely – but your body betrays you. The years of hurt, anger, and confusion dissolve into the fire burning between you, ignited by a kiss that’s as much a battle as it is a surrender. 

Lewis pulls back just enough to let you breathe, his lips still hovering close, his forehead resting against yours. His breath is hot against your skin, his voice low and rough when he finally speaks. “You still want to go back and fuck your little lover boy?”  

“Who?” You mumble, breathless as a result of the kiss as your eyes become heavy with something you can’t quite describe. 

Lewis smirks, a glint of triumph flashing in his dark eyes. "Exactly," he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your waist in slow, deliberate circles. His confidence is maddening, but the heat between you makes it impossible to summon the indignation you’d usually feel. 

You try to muster a response, something sharp and cutting to put him back in his place, but the way his gaze drops to your lips again makes the words dissolve before they even form. “Don’t do that,” you manage, though your voice lacks the conviction you intended. 

“Do what?” he asks innocently, though the rasp in his tone betrays his intent. 

“Act like this changes everything.” 

His smirk falters, replaced by a seriousness that roots you in place. “It doesn’t change everything,” he admits, his voice quieter now, almost tender. “But it changes something. Doesn’t it?” 

Your heart pounds against your ribs as his words sink in. You hate how easily he disarms you, how effortlessly he pulls you back into his orbit no matter how much you’ve tried to escape it. But deep down, you know he’s right. “I hate you,” you whisper, though even you can hear the weakness in your words. 

“I know,” he replies, his hand moving to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing your skin like he’s memorizing every inch of you. “And I hate myself for making you feel that way.” 

The sincerity in his voice cuts through the haze, making your chest tighten. But before you can think about it, you find yourself tugging on the collar of his unbuttoned shirt, pulling him closer to yourself as you mumble, “Kiss me again.” 

Your hands, which moments ago were pushing him away, now find their way into his hair, pulling him closer, as if to anchor yourself in the storm he’s unleashed within you. Lewis doesn’t hold back. His grip tightens on your waist, pulling you flush against him, the wall at your back the only thing keeping you steady. The kiss deepens, his lips moving against yours with an intensity that borders on desperation, as though he’s afraid this moment might slip through his fingers if he doesn’t hold on tight enough. When the need for air becomes undeniable, he pulls back just enough to look at you, his forehead resting against yours. Both of you are breathing heavily, the space between you charged with everything unsaid. “Tell me you didn’t feel that,” he says, his voice hoarse, his thumb brushing against your cheek. 

You can’t answer right away, your heart hammering so loudly in your chest it drowns out any coherent thought. But eventually, you manage to find your voice. “I hate you,” you whisper, but there’s no conviction behind the words. They sound hollow, even to your own ears. 

He lets out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “No, you don’t.” 

“Don’t tell me how I feel,” you snap, but the edge in your voice falters. 

“I’m not,” he murmurs, his gaze unwavering. “I’m telling you what I see. And I see you... still here. Still looking at me like that.” His hand trails down to your hip, his touch light but grounding. “If you hated me, you would’ve walked away by now.” 

You close your eyes, willing yourself to regain some semblance of control, but it’s impossible with him standing this close, his presence overwhelming. “This doesn’t change anything,” you say, though it feels more like you’re trying to convince yourself than him. 

“Maybe not,” he concedes, his voice softer now. “But it’s a start.” You don’t say anything to agree or refute his statement, and after a brief pause, he straightens, fixies your dress and tries to fix your hair as well. “Come on,” he says, “I’ll take you back.” 

“But, my bag,” you mutter, pushing out your lower lip in a pout when you realise your bag is on the floor. Lewis has to restrain himself when he sees your lips all puffed up because of him. Your voice is whiny, and he realises you’re slurring your words a little bit when you tug on his shirt, “I don’t wanna leave my bag here.” 

Lewis looks at you for a moment, his expression softening as he reaches up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers brushing against your skin with the same tenderness he’s shown all night despite all your fighting. With a soft exhale, Lewis bends down to pick up your bag, holding it out to you with the same quiet care. “Don’t make that face,” he murmurs, his voice teasing but laced with something tender. “You really wanna go back to that room, after everything that just happened?” 

You look at him, a mix of confusion and desire swirling inside you. “I don’t know what I want,” you admit, the honesty slipping out before you can stop it. The words feel raw, vulnerable, but there’s something about his presence, the way he’s here, still so close, that makes you feel safe enough to say it. 

Lewis doesn’t say anything right away. Instead, his eyes soften, his thumb grazing the strap of your bag as he watches you closely, as though he’s searching for something in your expression. Finally, he steps closer again, the space between you narrowing once more. “I get it,” he says quietly. “But I’m not letting you go home alone tonight.” 

The words send a shiver down your spine. You want to protest, to push him away, but there’s something in his gaze, the way he’s looking at you now, that makes you second-guess everything you thought you wanted. You hesitate for a moment longer, the weight of your thoughts heavy in the air, but the pull between you is undeniable. It’s the kind of pull that’s magnetic, that doesn’t let you escape even when you try to resist. 

Finally, you nod, the decision feeling both like a surrender and a choice you can’t take back. “Okay,” you murmur, your voice barely audible. “Take me back, then.” 

You don’t even remember getting into his car, but you do remember the smug look he shot at your date – Carl, you think – when he helped you through the club with a firm hand on your back. The villa Lewis rented for his little getaway is entirely what you expect it to be – modern, grand, and secluded enough so no one uninvited would know he is there and bother him. The couch in the living room looks way too inviting and you make a mental note to avoid it for now. Sitting on it might make this whole situation feel too real, too comfortable, and you’re not ready for that. You glance around the space instead, taking in the clean lines of the modern furniture, the polished wood floors, and the sprawling windows that offer an unobstructed view of the moonlit ocean. You walk towards the windows, eyes taking in the view from inside the villa. The ocean stretches out endlessly before you, its surface shimmering under the moonlight. The soft sound of the waves crashing against the shore is faintly audible even through the glass, a gentle hum that seems to echo the turmoil in your chest. 

You wrap your arms around yourself, partly to steady your nerves and partly to shield yourself from the vulnerability creeping up on you. The view is breathtaking, but it does little to quiet the storm of emotions swirling inside you. You faintly hear Lewis calling out your name, but as if you are in a trance, you can’t take your eyes off the view in front of you. His voice calls out to you again, softer this time, closer. “Hey,” he says, and you feel the warmth of his presence before you even see him. Lewis’s reflection appears in the glass, his dark eyes fixed on you as he stands just behind you. 

You finally tear your gaze away from the ocean and turn to face him, your arms still wrapped protectively around yourself. “It’s beautiful,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking louder might shatter the fragile moment. 

Lewis nods, his expression unreadable as he follows your gaze back to the window. “It is,” he agrees, but there’s a weight to his tone, as if he’s not just talking about the view. His eyes flicker back to you, searching your face. “But it doesn’t seem like it’s helping much.” 

You let out a shaky laugh, more to fill the silence than anything else. “It’s not that simple, Lewis.” 

“Nothing ever is,” he replies, stepping closer until there’s only a breath of space between you. “But I’m here. You don’t have to deal with whatever this is alone.” 

The sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten, and for a moment, you let yourself lean into it. “I don’t know what to do with you,” you admit, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “With... us.” 

He exhales deeply, his hand lifting as though he wants to touch you but hesitates. “You don’t have to figure that out right now,” he says, his voice steady. “I just want to make sure you’re okay tonight. That’s all that matters to me.” 

Something about his words, his presence, eases the knot in your chest, if only slightly. “I don’t even know where to start,” you murmur, more to yourself than him. 

“Then don’t,” he says simply, his voice carrying a quiet reassurance. “Just be here. With me.” 

You look up at him, your eyes searching his face for any sign of pretense or ulterior motives, but all you see is the same man who’s managed to undo you with a single glance. “Show me your room.”  

“We don’t have to do that.” His eyebrows furrow as he reaches for your cheek, “That not why I brought you here.” 

“Isn’t it?” You try to joke, but his deep sigh is a sign of his disapproval. “I know that’s not why you brought me here, but it can be one of the reasons you brought me here.” 

���Can it?” He drawls, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.  

“For God’s sake, Lewis.” You sigh, turning your body towards the man standing next to you. “Do I need to beg you for you to fuck me?”  

Lewis’s smirk falters, his expression shifting into something deeper, darker, but undeniably tender. “Don’t,” he murmurs, his voice low and edged with restraint as he steps closer. His hand comes up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “You don’t need to beg me for anything. Not now, not ever.” 

The intensity in his gaze makes your breath catch, and for a moment, the air between you feels electric. “Then fuck me,” you whisper, your voice trembling with equal parts frustration and desire. “If you want me, show me.” 

He closes his eyes briefly, like he’s steadying himself, and when he opens them again, the resolve in his expression takes your breath away. “You think I don’t want you?” he asks, his tone low but firm. “You don’t know how hard it is to hold back, to stop myself from–” He cuts himself off, his jaw tightening as if even admitting it is too much. He reaches for one of your hands, freeing from your hold and places it on his crotch. “See what you do to me?” 

The crude act manages to steal a gasp from you, your eyes widening at how hard he already is. “Lewis,” you mutter, he responds with an affirmative hum, “show me your bedroom.” 

He takes your hand, his grip firm but careful, and leads you down a sleek hallway. The sound of your heels clicking against the polished wood floor echoes softly, a counterpoint to the pounding of your heart. When he pushes open the door to his bedroom, you’re momentarily distracted by how much the space reflects him. The massive bed dominates the room, its crisp white sheets and plush pillows inviting. Floor-to-ceiling windows let in the silver glow of the moon, casting the room in a soft, ethereal light. The massive bed dominates the room, its crisp white sheets and plush pillows inviting. Floor-to-ceiling windows let in the silver glow of the moon, casting the room in a soft light.  

You walk towards the centre of the room, the corner of your lip trapped between your teeth as you glance at Lewis over your shoulder before you run towards the bed and throw yourself onto the soft bedding. Lewis watches you with an amused smirk as you sprawl across the bed, your carefree motion starkly contrasting the simmering tension in the air. “Comfortable, baby?” he asks, his tone teasing, but the heat in his eyes betrays his calm façade. 

You prop yourself up on your elbows, giving him a challenging look. “Very.” Then you narrow your eyes at him, “But don’t call me baby, I am not your baby.” 

He chuckles, low and throaty, as he steps closer, loosening the top button of his shirt with a deliberate slowness that sends a shiver down your spine. “No?” he muses, stopping at the edge of the bed. His eyes roam over you, drinking in every detail as if committing you to memory. 

Your breath hitches when he leans over, placing a hand on either side of your body, effectively caging you in. His face is so close to yours now that you can feel the warmth of his breath. “I like seeing you like this,” he admits, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Relaxed, it suits you.” 

A flush creeps up your neck at his words, but you refuse to let him have the upper hand completely. Your fingers trail up his chest, over the defined planes of his torso, and then slide beneath the open collar of his shirt. “I could say the same about you,” you reply, your voice soft but loaded with meaning. 

His response is immediate. His lips crash against yours with a fervour that steals your breath, his hands gripping your waist as he pulls you flush against him. The kiss is raw and consuming, years of tension and unspoken words pouring into the connection. When he pulls back, his forehead resting against yours, his breathing ragged, he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. 

You smile, your hands slipping down to the waistband of his pants. “Why don’t you show me?” 

He doesn’t need to be told twice. In one smooth motion, he lifts you, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist as he carries you to the centre of the bed. He chuckles at the sound of your giggling, as he carefully lays you back down on the soft bed. His fingers work diligently to get you out of your dress, pulling the linen garment over your head as Lewis lets his eyes hungrily take you in. When your dress finally falls away, leaving you in nothing but lace and skin, Lewis takes a slow breath, his eyes scanning over your body with a mixture of awe and hunger. “You’re incredible,” he murmurs, his voice thick with admiration. His fingers trace the curve of your waist, his touch sending shivers of desire through your body. 

You arch slightly into his touch, your breath coming faster, and you meet his gaze with a challenge in your eyes. “Are you going to just gawk at me, or are you going to actually do something?” 

He smirks, a flash of cockiness in his eyes. “Patience,” he teases, but there’s no mistaking the hunger in his voice as he lowers himself over you. With one hand bracing himself above you, his other hand slides down between your bodies, his fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. His touch is slow, almost teasing, and you can’t help the soft moan that escapes your lips as his fingers inch closer to where you need him most. “You like this?” he asks, his voice low and gravelly, his lips just inches from yours. His fingers find the lace of your underwear, his touch deliberate as he pulls it aside and slips a finger inside you, making you gasp. “You’re fucking perfect,” he groans, his lips crashing against yours as he deepens the kiss, his finger working inside you with a slow, steady rhythm. You can feel the heat building between you, the tension in the room thickening with every passing second. 

“Don- don’t say ‘fuck’, Lewis,” you tease him with a small smirk as your breathing becomes deeper, “it’s unbecoming.” 

“You’ll see who will be coming in a few minutes, baby.” He chuckles at the way your expression changes at the mention of the word, his fingers moving in deeper as your let out a disapproving moan, “What? You don’t like it when I call you that?” 

With another dissenting hum and a raise of your hips to meet his hand, you let out a long exhale. “I’m not your baby Lewis, stop calling me that.” With the patience that only he can tolerate, he continues the leisurely movements of his fingers. “I want more, please.” 

Lewis tuts at your words softly, chuckling as he takes in your reactions. “I think you have a very important decision to make here,” he murmurs, his eyes suddenly painted with something more serious, “because once I fuck you, I’m not letting you go.”  

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” The words come out choppy as your breathing gets more erratic, his fingers stubbornly keeping to the slow rhythm he’s set.  

Lewis's gaze sharpens, the challenge in your tone sparking a flame in his dark eyes. “Oh, you’ll see it, alright,” he murmurs, his voice a velvety promise as his hand withdraws briefly, leaving you breathless and aching. Before you can protest, he moves with deliberate precision, tugging his shirt over his head and revealing the expanse of his chest – sculpted, strong, and utterly captivating. “Get on your hands and knees.” 

The command leaves no room for debate, his voice firm but laden with heat. Your heart skips a beat as you meet his gaze, a mixture of defiance and curiosity flickering in your expression. “Bold of you to assume I'll listen,” you quip, though the slight tremor in your voice betrays your anticipation. 

Lewis smirks, leaning down until his lips brush the shell of your ear. “Oh, you'll listen,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. “Because you know exactly how patient I can be, but the same can’t be said for you.” 

A shiver runs through you at his words, and before you realize it, you’ve complied, shifting onto your hands and knees in the centre of the bed. You can practically feel his gaze on you, then all of a sudden, you can actually feel him behind you, the bed dipping slightly under his weight as he moves closer. “Good girl,” he says softly, his voice rich with approval, and the way your body reacts to the praise is almost embarrassing. “Oh, my beautiful darling.” His hands skim over your back, tracing the curve of your spine before settling on your hips. The grip is firm, possessive, sending a thrill through you.  

The sounds of him taking himself out of his trousers and pumping cock in his hand is pure debauchery, yet you find yourself pushing your hips back against his thighs. Lewis's low chuckle reverberates through you, a sound full of confidence and desire. His hand tightens on your hips, steadying you as he leans in, his chest brushing against your back. The heat of his skin against yours makes you arch into him instinctively, earning another throaty laugh from him. “You're eager,” he teases, his voice dark and dripping with amusement. “I like you like this.” 

You bite your lip to suppress the needy sound threatening to escape, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “Maybe you're just slow,” you retort breathlessly, glancing back at him over your shoulder, a challenging look in your eyes. 

Lewis growls low in his throat, his hands sliding across your back. “Careful,” he warns, though there's a glint of amusement in his dark eyes. “Push me too far, and I won't be nice.” Your breath catches at his words, but before you can form a response, you feel him guiding himself to your entrance, teasingly dragging against you. The deliberate slowness makes your frustration peak, and you push your hips back, a wordless plea for him to stop teasing. 

“Patience, darling,” he murmurs, his voice a husky promise. But even as he says it, he shifts forward, entering you with a deliberate motion that steals the breath from your lungs. 

The sensation is overwhelming, every nerve in your body alight as he holds still for a moment, letting you adjust. “Lewis,” you breathe, your voice shaky with need.  

His hands gently caress over the skin of your back and hips, soothing over the sharp feeling of Lewis easing himself into you in small movements of his hips. “You’re doing so well,” he shushes your whiny moans, his hands tracing your sides, grounding you. “You feel perfect, we’re almost there, darling.”  

“A-almost?” Your voice cuts his words off, voice shaky with need, “It’s not going to fit, Lewis, I can’t-” 

He leans over you, his lips pressing tender kisses along your spine, each one sending a ripple of warmth through you. His voice is a soothing murmur in your ear. “Relax for me, darling. Let me take care of you.” Your breathing steadies under his touch, the initial sting giving way to a fullness that leaves you breathless as he pushes himself fully into you. You arch your back slightly, pressing into him as his hands continue their gentle exploration of your body. The tenderness in his actions contrasts with the raw desire in his voice, creating a heady mix that leaves you yearning for more. “That's it,” he praises, his tone soft but laced with heat. “You’re incredible. See? We made it fit.” 

“I feel so full.” You manage to let out, voice whiny as the moan is ripped from the back of your throat. “It feels so good, Lewis.” 

He begins to move, a slow, steady rhythm that builds gradually, allowing you to feel every inch of him. The friction ignites a fire within you, and you can’t help the soft moans that escape your lips, each sound spurring him on. His grip on your hips tightens, his pace increasing as he finds the perfect rhythm, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. “You feel so good,” he groans, his voice low and thick with desire. His hand slides up your spine, tangling in your hair as he pulls you back slightly, his lips brushing against your ear. “You’re mine, you know that? Only mine.”  

The moan that comes from you is dissenting, causing Lewis to slide his hand down your throat to use the leverage to pull you up on your knees, pressed against his chest. “No,” you say, hands extending backwards to keep holding onto him in an attempt to keep up with the rhythm in which he is fucking you now. 

His words send a shiver down your spine, the possessiveness in his tone igniting something primal within you. “Say it,” he commands, his voice rough as his movements grow more urgent. “Say you're mine.” 

Your breaths are shallow, punctuated by soft whimpers as you cling to him, trying to keep pace with his movements. The way he pulls you against him, his hand firm on your throat, sends a jolt of heat through your core. His hand is firm around your throat, but not uncomfortable to the point that you can’t breathe. 

“I’m not yours,” you gasp defiantly, your voice trembling with every move he makes.  

Lewis growls low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your back as his hand tightens slightly around your neck—not enough to hurt, but enough to keep you in place. “We’ll see about that,” he says darkly. 

His hips snap against you harder now, his rhythm relentless as if determined to prove you wrong. The overwhelming sensation leaves you gasping, your fingers clutching at his forearm for balance. His free hand slides down your body, gripping your waist to hold you steady as he drives deeper, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. 

“Still not mine?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. His tone is equal parts teasing and commanding, daring you to resist him. “Still think someone else can fuck you better than I can?” You bite your lip, trying to stifle the moans spilling from you, but the way he moves, the way he claims you, has you crumbling. “Say it,” he repeats, his voice a low growl that echoes through your very core. 

Torn between defiance and surrender, you meet his challenge with a shaky breath. “I’m-” you begin, but he cuts you off with a particularly deep thrust that has you crying out his name instead. 

“Hmm?” Lewis chuckles darkly, clearly enjoying your struggle. His grip on your neck softens slightly as his fingers trace the column of your throat in a soothing gesture. “Come on, baby, just say it.” 

“I’m-” The word catches in your throat as he shifts slightly, the angle of his hips hitting a spot that sends a jolt of pleasure through you. A broken moan escapes your lips instead, and Lewis smirks against your ear, clearly revelling in your unravelling. 

“Say it,” he demands again, his voice low and demanding. His hand slides from your throat to your jaw, turning your face just enough that his lips can brush against the corner of your mouth. The gentleness of the gesture is at odds with the raw intensity of his movements, leaving you breathless. 

“I’m yours,” you finally gasp, the words tumbling out in a mix of desperation and surrender. 

Lewis freezes for a heartbeat, his chest heaving against your back as the admission settles between you. Then, with a triumphant growl, he resumes his pace, his grip on you tightening as if he intends to imprint himself into every fibber of your being. 

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction. His lips trail along your shoulder, leaving a path of heat in their wake. “Say it again.” 

“Yours,” you whisper, the word coming easier this time, though the weight of it still sends a shiver through you. 

His rhythm grows more urgent, his body moving with a single-minded purpose as he pushes you both toward the edge. “Never forget it,” he groans, his voice rough and ragged, “now come for me.” You blame the singular cocktail you had three or so hours ago for your compliance to his words, as you feel the wave of pleasure crash over you, obliterating any coherent thought. Your body trembles uncontrollably in his arms, your cries of release echoing in the room as he whispers sweet words of praise in your ear.  

There are a million other things Lewis expects you to say, but you surprise him with a, “I wanna taste you.”  

Lewis's movements still, his breath catching at your unexpected words. He pulls back slightly, his dark eyes locking with yours, filled with surprise and a flicker of intrigue. A slow, mischievous grin spreads across his face. “Oh, is that so?” he murmurs, his voice tinged with amusement and undeniable heat. 

You nod, your cheeks flushing under his intense gaze, but there’s a spark of confidence in your eyes. “I really do,” you say softly, the tremble in your voice betraying both your boldness and your eagerness. 

He studies you for a moment longer, his expression shifting to one of reverence laced with desire. "Well," he says, his voice low and gravelly, "who am I to deny you, darling?" With a gentleness that contrasts the fervour of moments ago, Lewis guides you to sit up, his hands warm and steady as they support you. He shifts to the edge of the bed, leaning back slightly, giving you room and letting you take control. His gaze never leaves you, his dark eyes glinting with anticipation. You settle between his thighs, your hands skimming over his skin, marvelling at the way his muscles tense under your touch. There's a sense of power in the way his body responds to you, in the way his breathing hitches when your lips brush against him. You look up at him, meeting his gaze with a small smile before leaning in. The moment your mouth closes around him, Lewis groans low in his throat, his head falling back as his control begins to slip. His hands find their way to your hair, his touch gentle but firm as he guides you, his breaths coming in shallow gasps. “Just like that,” he praises, his voice rough with pleasure. “You’re perfect, baby.” 

The sound of his voice, the way he says your name like it’s the only thing that matters, spurs you on, and you lose yourself in the moment, intent on unravelling him the way he did you. Your lips move with deliberate intent, your tongue tracing teasing paths that have him groaning your name like a prayer. His fingers tighten in your hair, a gentle tug that makes you glance up at him through your lashes. The sight of him – head tilted back, his lips parted as he struggles for breath, sends a thrill through you. 

“God, you’re incredible,” he murmurs, his voice ragged and filled with awe. His eyes find yours, and the intensity of his gaze makes your pulse quicken. “You have no idea what you do to me.” Encouraged by his reaction, you take him deeper, your hands gripping his thighs to steady yourself. The sound he makes is primal, his control slipping further as his hips jerk involuntarily. He tries to hold himself back, but you can tell he’s close to losing himself completely. “Baby,” Lewis rasps, his voice thick with need, “you keep that up, and I won’t last.” You hum around him in response, the vibration pulling another groan from his lips. His hand slips from your hair to cup your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek in a tender contrast to the raw passion between you. “Look at me,” he whispers, his tone almost pleading. 

You meet his gaze, and the connection between you feels electric. His chest heaves as his breaths come in quick, shallow bursts, his control hanging by a thread. “I’m so close,” he warns, his voice a low growl. “Do you want me to stop?” The shake of your head is all the answer he needs. With a curse under his breath, he lets go, his body shuddering as he gives himself over to the waves of pleasure crashing through him. He holds your gaze the entire time, his grip on you tightening as if anchoring himself to the moment. 

When he calms down, he collapses back against the bed, his chest rising and falling with deep, uneven breaths. You sit back after swallowing, a triumphant smile playing on your lips as you take in the sight of him, utterly undone. “That was fun,” you rasp as you take in the sight in front of you. 

Lewis chuckles softly, the sound low and breathless, as he drapes an arm over his face, trying to regain his composure. “Fun?” he repeats, his voice laced with amusement and lingering satisfaction. He peeks at you from under his arm, his dark eyes glinting with a mixture of adoration and disbelief. “You’ve got no idea what you just did to me.” 

You tilt your head, feigning innocence as you crawl up the bed to lie beside him. “I think I’ve got a pretty good idea,” you tease, your voice light but with a hint of pride. 

He turns toward you, propping himself up on one elbow, his free hand reaching out to trace lazy circles along your arm. “You’re dangerous,” he murmurs, his tone soft yet filled with a reverence that makes your cheeks flush. “And I’m completely at your mercy.” 

You laugh, the sound light and genuine, as you nuzzle into his touch. “I think you like it that way,” you reply, your fingers grazing over his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your touch. 

“More than you know,” he admits, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to your temple. The tender gesture contrasts with the raw intensity you’d just shared, and it sends a warm flutter through your chest. 

For a moment, silence falls between you, the only sound the soft rustling of the sheets and the slowing rhythm of his breathing. Then Lewis shifts, his arm slipping around your waist to pull you closer. “You know,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your hair, “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.” 

The weight of his words settles over you, and you glance up at him, your heart skipping a beat at the sincerity in his gaze. “Good,” you whisper, a small smile tugging at your lips.  

He smiles back, a look of pure contentment spreading across his face as he tightens his hold on you. “That’s all I get?” 

“We’ll see how you feel after we get home,” you mumble as you run a finger along the curve of his jaw, “you might be bored of me by then.” 

“Home,” Lewis muses quietly, breaking the silence and ignoring your words. His voice is softer now, contemplative. “I like the sound of that.” 

You glance up at him, his face so close that you can see the faintest hint of vulnerability in his expression. It stirs something deep within you – a mix of tenderness and longing that takes you by surprise. 

“Yeah,” you murmur, leaning in to brush your lips against his. “Me too.” 

[yuutawe]

YUUTA OKKOTSU AS A BOYFRIEND! ﹕headcanons

꒰ warnings!!꒱ there is a nsfw part near the end ! aged-up yuuta (he's 21 here) ! yandere yuuta ! reader is implied to be into his obsessions + at least slighly aware ! delusional yuuta ! mentions of marriage ! manipulation (lovebombing) ! ⤷﹒✦┆mentions of bdsm + switch yuuta + overstimulation (implied) + dacryphilia (implied).

ꖛ about. * reader is gender-neutral. no anatomy specified + they/them pronouns and genderless nicknames.

ꖛ author's note * aaaaaghhh wanted this to be longer. got embarrassed writing nsfw, ngl. hope you enjoy ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎[ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎NOT PROOFREAD!]

PRE-RELATIONSHIP !! ꒱୨९

yuuta being yuuta, you probably were the one to ask him out. the life of a sorcerer was one where relationships didn't have much space on the personal agenda (unless he made a few extra efforts). initially, the big obstacle is yuuta's own shyness and the traumas he carries with his bruised soul.

when he starts to get interested in you, his first reaction is to panic. pure and fickle, sprouting in his heart like a parasite. it starts innocently enough: liking older photos on your social media. late-night messages. drinks at the weekend, until he notices his hand on your lower back as he guides a drunken you to the car.

you’re snoring on the passenger’s seat and yuuta is wide-eyed, his thoughts a mile per minute. this can't be happening.

yuuta can't dodge maki's taunts, toge's questions (which are too judgemental for someone who only talks in onigiri ingredients) and panda's cupid advice. nobody really understands how he's feeling.

even though he has learnt a lot from losing rika and eventually letting her go, he still fears and longs for true, pure love. it's almost a necessity. he underwent grief counselling and still got over his old crush in a surprisingly healthy way, for someone who was literally haunted by the ghost of said crush for years of his life.

then you arrive. with a gentle smile, sweet words and an unforgettable body. how could he resist? god, he wants to marry you in the spot. but yuuta knows it's a selfish desire.

he's very, very respectful, and tries not to let his interest show in a way that makes you uncomfortable. it's all about knowing how to read the smallest, subtlest signs, and he'll be well understood. yuuta is the kind of guy who will walk you to your car when you leave somewhere, the guy who remembers to take an extra jacket or offers you his when it's too cold, the guy who always remembers your preferences, allergies, and other small details.

an observer, he's always the silent one who rarely engages in conversation. initially, it's very much a ‘you talk, he answers’ kind of thing, but eventually he gains enough confidence to open up and constantly initiates and continues conversations with you.

his lingering glances at your body don't go unnoticed by you. maybe there's a bit of teasing coming from you, depending on your personality, but it doesn't matter. he's too shy to make the first move. so you do.

after the first date, that's when things blossom.

HONEYMOON PHASE !! ꒱୨९

the honeymoon phase is one of the best experiences you can have dating yuuta. things are new, slightly superficial, but overall very nice and gentle. he is unfortunately a bit prone to lovebombing, even if he doesn't realize it. he can be extremely smothering and hyper-protective at times, but an honest conversation of five to ten minutes can easily help him correct this behaviour.

he's a great listener, and fights are almost non-existent. gestures of love are constant and always innovative: flowers every week, homemade chocolates if you're a fan, reservations at places that interest you and even simple dates at home. marathons of series or films that end in soft kisses and warm hugs.

he does ask for you two to live together a bit too quickly.

POST-HONEYMOON PHASE !! ꒱୨९

even when the honeymoon phase is over, yuuta is never less romantic. he makes a point of doing little gestures like cooking, cleaning and organising the house for when you arrive. It starts as a surprise in a few days — surprise, love! Now you don't have to clean anything — but if you don't want to let him do all the work, he'll agree to a routine where the two of you can alternate housework. the only thing he asks for in return for all the hard work is a few kisses and a cute name as his contact in your phone (like ‘love’, ‘mine’, ‘promised’, ‘husband’).

he's clingy. yuuta is completely starved for touch. he always likes to end an evening by wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face in the soft curve of your neck and shoulder. if he can leave a few kisses there before he falls asleep, even better. he doesn't move much during the night, but he's the type with cold hands and a warm body.

yuuta is the kind of man who, if you get up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom, when you come back to the bedroom, you'll see him sitting on the bed, devastated — why did you leave me. dramatic, but in a way that can end up being cute.

GENERAL VIEW !! ꒱୨९

in general, if you can ignore “petty” habits like stalking, overprotection and are willing to hug him and wipe the blood off his face when he comes back from missions, it's a great relationship. if you like men who are obsessed with you, he's simply the best possible option. always trying to touch you or be close to you, making sure you're comfortable — a sweet voice asking is everything okay, love? we can leave if you want.

he wants to take you away from the world and have you all to himself, sometimes, but he makes the sacrifice of sharing because it's what makes you happiest. yuuta is super supportive with your career or if you want to be the type to look after the house. whichever is best for you, he's happy! he's willing to listen to you complain about work while he massages your shoulders, takes your shoes off for you and carries you around the house to the bathroom.

“i'll love you forever.” he murmurs as he kisses your forehead.

SEX LIFE !! ꒱୨९

although it doesn't seem like it, yuuta has a relatively high libido. if this is a problem for you, he can get used to solving it on his own. however, all his fantasies involve you in some way. often, while spending days away on a mission, he begs for a photo or audio of your voice, because he can't enjoy it without you. “please, love, i need you.”

distance is a cruel poison, but he makes a point of not bothering you about it if he can sort it out himself.

his stamina is good. yuuta can last three rounds before having to give up. if you push his limits, he can last six, and fall asleep minutes later.

he's a switch. he's naturally a bit submissive, and the type who lives to give you pleasure. service sub and soft dom, it's basically him.

when he is the submissive one, he sounds more like: “please, please, please, more— don’t stop, don’t stop, i’ll do anything—”

and when he is the one domming you, he's more: “is this good, my love?” he presses a gentle kiss to your shoulder, smiling. “you’re so perfect.”

he'll do anything you want — hit him, push him to the limit, pull his hair. slap him, make him cry just to lick the tears off his cheeks (he loves that crap). he’s yours.

he likes it when you bite and leave marks on him. yuuta will often wear the hickeys and bites as a trophy. as living proof on his body that your love belongs to him, and vice versa.

he moans really, really loud. probably more than you do. it's the kind of whine and long moan that makes the neighbours complain. even when he's on top, he can't hold back the noise he makes when you're together. if you want him to be quiet, you'll have to gag him, or he'll need to bite your shoulder or have his face buried in the pillow.

always after sex, yuuta tries to make you stay in bed, clinging to you and hugging you like a teddy bear. he demands his cuddles. and of course, how could you deny anything to him?

he loves you as much as you love him, after all.

© made by yuutawe on tumblr. do not copy, repost, modify or translate my works in this or any other site — inspirations allowed with credits.

[retroaria]

hello! if you're not busy, then may i please request an interviewer!reader x the blue lock boys? in which they become enamored with their interviewers charm. a few specific characters i want are: sae, rin, nagi and kaiser. but feel free to add or remove characters as you'd like! you can do this in your free time, no pressure. thank you, and take care!

a/n: thank you for requesting!! i’m so sorry please don’t hate me for how long this took i am NOT a professional :x

⋆˙⟡ interviewer!reader x - rin - nagi - kaiser - ⋆˙⟡

• | BLUE LOCK M.LIST | •

nagi seishiro ᯓᡣ𐭩

*totally lovestruck*

nagi has always struck me as someone who considers himself to be “out of the league” for most people he finds attractive, so he doesn’t put himself out there and doesn’t really know how. if he was in a situation where he had to interact with someone he genuinely was enamored by, he’d be a mess.

and so he stands there, dopy, clueless, not even looking correctly in the camera and seemingly staring at…you? No, he’s definitely staring at you. his eyes are dull and dim, but they seem to be a little hazed, glossed over with a sheen of fascination. he shakes his head and nods and mumbles, unbeknownst to whatever it is you’ve actually been asking him.

this is not the look nagi ever intended to have when speaking to someone he finds this attractive, but he truly can’t help it. his minds gone blank and he isn’t sure if you’re standing perfectly under a spotlight or if you’re an angel naturally glowing in his presence. his internal dialogue is stuck between cringing at himself and taking mental note of every single feature he can gather with his eyes on you - all over you, i should say.

nagi would be way too excited to actually ask you out (also definitely not after staring you down like a creep), he’d be too afraid of losing his cool. but he would absolutely remember your name and ask around when he has the chance - would ask reo for help with this lol. through some industry path of team managers to stadium staff to news reporters, he eventually finds you again. would 100% stalk you on social media and follow you just to see where that goes .

just like rin, he’d try to be in the right place at the right time and do the right things to get you to strike some sort of non formal conversation with him in the hopes that’ll it’ll create an opening for him to ask you out :x

rin itoshi ᯓᡣ𐭩

*blushes and looks away…*

rin hates interviews. he doesn’t like open ended questions and he hates having a camera shoved in his face. most of the reporters that run up to him on the edge of the field just holler questions and statements at him that can often feel degrading and presumptuous.

when he was stopped just outside the stadium by you and your small crew, you spoke to him with a lack of crassness that he hasn’t been on the receiving end of in ages - so he agrees. his answers remain cold and striking, as they always are, but his demeanor is more loose than usual.

rin initially doesn’t feel anything for you other than respect and gratitude for treating him like a human unlike the other reporters he’s encountered. he was sure to get your name and properly thank you. he’s the type to think about you and hope that you’ll cross paths again. wouldn’t go out of his way to find you, but at every game and every event he scans the crowds in search of your smile that had welcomed him so tenderly before. not to mention your face has popped into his head almost everyday since he first met you and it’s freaking him the fuck out.

when he does see you again he accepts your interview request immediately, bullshits through all the questions, and sticks around a little longer to talk to you. he’s painfully awkward and even more painfully unaware of it, but once you notice the slight blush on his face you can steer him in the right direction lol

michael kaiser ᯓᡣ𐭩

*prince charming*

when you introduced yourself to kaiser in hopes of getting an interview you certainly did not expect the offer to be accepted so enthusiastically. kaiser isn’t necessarily bothered by interviews, but he hates having to think of answers on the spot.

he’d throw out some cheeky lines like “If I smile at the camera can I get a date?” and a classic for him, “Whatever you say, beautiful.”

you’re asking him questions he surely has been asked before, questions he’s probably been trained to answer, but his answers are boastfully and flirtatiously directed at you and you alone. your camera man leaned over and asked if he should just cut all the footage. you entertain him a little more, trying to see if you can get him to break his prince charming act and actually talk about the game he just played.

eventually he lets up and you get the interview done. as you and your crew are about to leave the stadium, he grabs your hand and lifts it up, planting a soft kiss to your knuckles (you think maybe this could be considered assault, but you’ll let it slide for him this one time).

unlike the other two, kaiser doesn’t have a bashful bone in his body in this situation. i’ve always felt that he isn’t as much of a manwhore as everyone thinks he is, which i still stand by!!! but if he sees you and is truly enamored by you he knows how to make his feeling apparent.

[formulawolff]

"keep 'em comin'" - m.v.

pairing: girl best friend!reader x max verstappen

word count: 2.3k

warnings: alcohol consumption, light marijuana usage, cussing, max munching on some cooter! (that will come later in the fic), enemies to friends to lovers, typical men behavior (being creepy in a bar), mentions of physical threats, kelly slander, THINGS ARE MESSY BETWEEN KELLY AND MAX (so if y'all don't like light infidelity/gray areas then don't read) yadayadayada (y'all already know the vibes)

a/n: hellllloooo! <3 this is my first time writing for max so if this isn't quite like him, i apologize in advance. this fic is based off of a request and i had to write about it since i've been feral for max (he finally took off that damned cap!) this may end up as a two or three part series. we'll see, we'll see!

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺

"i see the decrepit hag decided to let you out of her clutches tonight. congratulations for being able to be out and about in public without her breathing down your neck!"

the figure standing to your left scoffs, muttering a few incoherent words under his breath. he slides into the booth, propping his chin up with a hand. the other finds the glistening glass, a bead of condensation rolling down, pooling onto the rigid table.

"about that."

"what about it?" you arch a brow, lips connecting with the rim of your own drink, "max, did something happen before you left?"

he shrugs, brows pinching together as he sips on his mixed drink, a decadent yet smooth concoction of his favorite liquors blended together, "it's nothing serious."

"max," setting your glass down, you lean forward ever so slightly, his name louder than normal over the overwhelming mixture of voices and volume, "what. happened."

"oh you know," he waves a hand, careful not to meet your piercing gaze, "she's upset that i was going out to see you. that's all."

the moment max mentioned her, you knew exactly who she was.

she was kelly piquet. max verstappen's beloved wag. the woman who scooped him up the moment that clock struck midnight on his eighteenth birthday.

the woman you loathed more than anyone in the world.

but you wouldn't tell max that.

after all, you couldn't. the pair had been dating for quite some time. and although max wouldn't say it outright, you were well aware that she was not going anywhere anytime soon.

no matter how much the two fought. no matter how much she wanted to make your relationship with max as strained as possible.

your friendship with max had a rocky start. tumultuous, even. the two of you met when you were both seventeen, as your parents were mutual friends. since max was involved in racing, and you aimed to pursue professional photography, max's father suggested that the two of you get to know one another.

of course, at that time, the last thing teenage max wanted was some nerdy girl following him around. especially when there were other teenage boys involved. cool teenage boys who enjoyed to fuck around with fast machinery.

he teased you relentlessly, tormenting you whenever he could. he ridiculed your photographic abilities, scorning the prints or slideshows you provided. often times, he stated that your pictures were, "absolute shit" and your clip compilations "were not going to get you anywhere in formula one."

of course, you matched his energy. after all, you weren't going to take anyone's shit. you knew you had to advocate for yourself. you weren't going to make it in the industry if you weren't assertive.

eventually, your snapshots landed you a job at red bull. well, max did have a part to play in that.

after a couple of years, the dutch driver apologized for the way he treated you at the time, requesting a truce. the truce would consist of you sticking around as his personal media manager.

in turn, he would promote your work to the world of formula one and assist you in your way up the ladder in any way he could. he would land your sponsorships. he would chip in some cash here and there to get you more advanced software or equipment.

the only stipulation was that you had to follow him.

everywhere and anywhere he went. every event. every interview. every grand prix.

no. matter. what.

of course, with the stakes involved, you knew it was too good of a deal to refuse. with max's rise to prominence in formula one, you knew it was now or never.

so, you accepted his offer.

oh jos verstappen, what a bastard you were.

cause now, here you were in vegas, sitting across from the man you loved. well, the man you were in love with.

hopelessly and utterly in love with.

"that isn't unusual for her," you scoff, hands reaching for your purse, "i do have something that could lighten the mood!"

"and that is?" max's gaze follows your hand, making note of the delicately wrapped joint between your fingers.

"my friend mary jane!"

"you of all people know i shouldn't be smoking," the dutch driver shakes his head, yet proceeds to scoot out of the booth anyway, "i'll still come out there with you. i won't be taking any hits though."

"yeah, yeah," you wave a hand, "that's what they all say."

as you slip out of the booth, you feel max's hand connect with your lower back, almost guiding you through the throng of locals. a few of them chirp greetings to max, others chattering, creating a buzz within the air.

well, there went any sort of anonymity.

so much for keeping a low profile for the weekend.

yet, when in vegas, that was almost impossible to maintain. especially when you were a man of max's caliber.

the two of you manage to slip out, just before fans started asking for autographs. of course, max obliged to a few, signing a cap here and an arm there.

even though it was quickly approaching december, the air was mild, dipping in the low fifties. max hovers to your right, shuddering as a breeze rolls through. you curse as it quenches your flame, motioning for max to stand closer.

"can you shield me for a moment, pretty boy?"

"pretty boy?"

from the way the words tumbled from his mouth, max seemingly was not to keen to the idea of being referred to as pretty boy. yet, he inches even closer to you, providing a barrier as the lighter comes to life, igniting your delicate pre-roll.

"what else should i call you?" shrugging, you exhale, the smoke billowing into the night, "or do you prefer world champion?"

"how much did you have to drink before i got here?" the dutch driver cocks his head, his stare almost picking you apart.

"enough," you respond, lips curling into a devious grin, "don't act like you didn't like that."

"i did," he counters, "that's the issue here."

"and why is that an issue?"

"because we used to fucking despise one another. we used to tear one another apart. and now here i am, going out for drinks with you when i shouldn't be. here i am, looking forward to your texts or your snaps when i know i should be thinking about someone else.

fuck, even when i'm with her, my mind wanders to you. we're together all of the fucking time yet i crave you. i miss you when we're apart. what are you doing to me?"

before your mind can even formulate a coherent response, an individual saunters up to the two of you, drinks in hand.

it's an older man, approximately in his early or mid fifties. he's balding, as a few of the greasy hairs were poorly combed over. he was well dressed, but poorly groomed, as there was quite the scruff plaguing his feautures.

"good evening," his words are directed towards you, yet you couldn't help but notice the way his eyes were fixated on your joint, "i was wondering if the pretty lady could exchange a hit or two for a-"

"she's not accepting shit from you," max's voice is low, the driver taking another half step toward you, almost to shield you even further.

"c'mon man," the man drawls, the words slurred, "i wasn't fucking speakin' to ya. i was talkin' to her."

"and i'm talking to you," max's jaw clenches, "get the fuck out of here."

"and you are?" the man arches a brow, "surely not her boyfriend."

"actually i am," the words are forced through gritted teeth, the driver's fists clenched to his sides, "i'm her fiancé. i suggest you leave before i-"

"got it," the man exhales, rolling his eyes, "it was worth a shot. what the fuck ever man."

as he turns to head back towards the bar, you feel fingers find yours, intertwining together. max squeezes your hand gently, "are you okay?"

"fiancé?" relief ripples as you notice his demeanor crumble, "what was that all about? were you manifesting something or-"

"come on," max tugs at your hand, "let's go to another place. get a few more drinks. keep 'em comin'. keep the alcohol flowin', you know?"

"max," clicking your tongue, you frown as your realize your joint was burnt out, "what is going on between you and kelly?"

"i don't want to talk about her right now," the driver won't even look at you, keeping his focus on the glow and ambiance of the city, "we can talk about anything else but her. please. i don't even want to think about her right now. shouldn't you be relieved? why aren't you relieved?"

"because you look stressed the fuck out!" you retort, "and it stresses me out because i love you and i can't handle seeing you all bummed about some hag who is only using you!"

max freezes, your hand flying up to your mouth. heat floods your cheeks, heart thudding against your rib-cage as you realize what just came pouring from your mouth.

"did you just tell me that you love me?"

his voice is soft. dangerously low. merely a whisper, barely audible over the bustling noise of vegas.

tears well up, shame setting your body ablaze as you nod, biting your lower lip, "y-yeah. and i know i shouldn't-"

"shut the fuck up," hands meet with your cheeks, bringing you in close, "just shut the fuck up and come here."

in that moment, max's mouth finds yours. the kiss is tender, brimmed with nothing but passion, breathing life back into your lungs. it was grounding yet exhilarating, waves of euphoria crashing over.

he pulls away, forehead brushing against yours, "why haven't i done this sooner?"

"because kelly-"

"i don't give a fuck about kelly right now."

"give a fuck about me then," you murmur against his mouth, relishing the way his hands explore, roaming along your back, trailing down to your ass, "you think we should take this somewhere more private? before someone snaps a photo of max verstappen making out with his media manager?"

"that's a good idea," he nods, "i'll arrange an uber."

although it was merely minutes in the time it took between getting into the uber and making it to your hotel room, it felt like an eternity. yet, with the way max's hand gripped your thigh the entire drive, you didn't complain. the other hand held onto yours, pressing gentle kisses to your knuckles.

if only this was your everyday life.

if only things were different.

if only he fell in love with you first.

once the two of you were in the elevator, he maintained his composure, as there were other people stepping in and out. there was even a little boy, in awe that his favorite driver was staying in the same hotel as him. max was kind enough to gift him one of his beaded bracelets, a small memento from a win during the 2022 season.

if only that child knew what his favorite driver was really up to.

once that light on your keypad flashed green, his mouth was on yours, tongue gliding along your lower lip, practically begging for access. his hands were all over, tugging on your clothes, desperate to see what was underneath.

"fuck," there's a rumble in his chest as he lays on you on the bed, pinning you to the mattress.

"what?" you can't help but wriggle a little, slightly flustered by the intensity of his gaze.

"you have no idea how much i've thought about this," a dusty rose hue tinges his cheeks, "i-i almost don't know what to do now. i've thought about it so frequently that i had it down to every little detail. and now i have you here, right where i want you but i feel like i'm going to fuck this up and-"

"max," tender fingers sweep locks of hair from his forehead, "do what you feel is right."

"i just want to show you how much i love you. i need you to know how loved you are."

"i think i have an idea," the tip of your nose brushes against his, "is there anything i can do to help?"

"will you let me taste you?"

instinctively, your hips buck forward, legs spreading so that he can have access. you can feel his cock stiffen in his pants, pressing against your inner thigh, aching for some sort of relief.

"yes," you nod, "you can taste me."

"f-fuck," his jaw nearly goes slack as you guide his hand through the waistband of your panties, the pad of his index finger circling your clit, "you're this wet for me? already? my poor baby. all soaked and desperate for me."

"m-max," the way his name falls from your lips is intoxicating, "i need you."

"are you sure this is okay?" he pauses, eyes meeting with yours, "if at any moment you need me to stop, just tell me."

"you are more than okay. i promise."

fingers delicately unbutton your jeans, rolling them down your legs. in the process, you peel off your hoodie and shirt, tossing them to the floor.

just the mere sight of you half-dressed had him coming undone, his inhibitions slipping away by the second. fuck, you were so stunning. someone who deserved to be worshipped and cherished.

far more beautiful than he could have ever imagined.

situating himself between your legs, max's mouth roams, placing wet kisses all over your inner thighs, hips, and abdomen. his tongue flattens against your heated core, savoring the way you squirmed under his touch.

"you need me to taste you baby?" he coos, cocking his head.

"yes," you plead, skin hot to the touch, your clit engorged, folds slick with juices.

"hmmm," he hums, hands grasping your thighs to spread you open further.

"once i get these off of you, you're all mine. and only mine. got that?"

yet, there was one thing that happened to slip max verstappen's mind that night in vegas.

well, one woman.

the woman he referred to as his girlfriend, but the woman he was not in love with.

kelly piquet.

[chewnotchoke]

for you to be here, again.

ೃ࿐ boynextdoor as exes who cannot get over you

warnings: boynextdoor x reader, angst, break up, pining, bonedo crying bcs i have thing for crying boys lmao wc: 1.8k

sungho 

𓍯 he isn’t the annoying, embarrassing ex who can’t take a hint. no, sungho is far from that. his inability to move on is quiet, almost invisible. it’s in the small things you’d never notice unless you looked closely enough.  

𓍯 whenever he misses you, he doesn’t flood your inbox with desperate texts or try to insert himself back into your life. instead, he scrolls through your old messages, reading each line as if searching for something he missed, something that might tell him how it all fell apart. on nights when the ache in his chest feels unbearable, he logs into a spam account just to check your social media. he studies your posts in silence, wondering if the smile in your photos is real or just for show.  

𓍯 after the breakup, he developed a habit of overanalyzing everything. he reads and rereads your last messages, dissecting every word, every punctuation mark. he clicks on the names of people who like your posts and studies the profiles of those you’ve recently followed, crafting stories in his head that only fuel his misery.  

𓍯 and then there was that evening—when the sun was setting and the orange light softened everything but the weight of the moment. you’d agreed to meet him for closure, ready to draw the final line between you both. you thought it would be simple, clean. a goodbye. but when it came time to leave, he just couldn’t let go of your hand.  

𓍯 standing by the side of the street, his grip tightened as though letting go would mean losing the last piece of you forever. his lips quivered as he tried to keep it together, but the tears betrayed him, spilling down his cheeks before he could even form the words. his voice was low, trembling, and desperate. “i’ll be better…hm?” his swollen eyes searched for yours, his vulnerability raw and heartbreaking.  

𓍯 in that moment, it was as if he’d fall to his knees right there on the pavement if it meant convincing you to stay. he didn’t care who might be watching or how foolish he might look. his hand stayed firm around yours, a silent plea that screamed louder than any words he could manage. he was willing to beg, to promise, to do anything—if only you’d give him one more chance. 

riwoo

𓍯 in his latest post, he wore a bracelet you both shared during better days, casually wrapped around his wrist. he doesn’t mention it, but he hopes you’ll notice. it’s his silent way of saying he still thinks about you, even now, after everything fell apart.

𓍯 he blames himself for losing you, overanalyzing every fight, every word left unsaid. he tells himself it’s because he wasn’t enough or didn’t try hard enough. in his mind, if he had just loved you better or held on tighter, maybe he wouldn’t have lost you.

𓍯 your relationship with riwoo was a cycle of hope and heartbreak, on and off, again and again. each time you tried to fix it, the cracks seemed to deepen, but he refused to let go. he gave everything to keep you, even when it felt like the universe was against you both. and yet, despite his desperate efforts, he still lost you in the end, even though it was never truly his fault.

𓍯 riwoo is the type to drunk text you, and everyone knows it. his friends would drag him out for a karaoke night at the ktv, hoping to take his mind off you. but instead of grabbing the mic and singing along, he’d sit in the corner, nursing a drink as his friends’ voices echo through the room. one shot turns into two, then three, until the alcohol numbs his senses—but not his thoughts.

𓍯 eventually, he’d slip outside under the guise of needing fresh air. his friends would find him leaning against a wall, his phone screen glowing in the dark as he carefully types out a message for you.

𓍯  his words are raw, aching with vulnerability: "how are you so good at pretending i never meant anything to you, while i’m here thinking about you all day even at times when i should be happy? did you even love me? do you ever think of me too? why does it feel like this doesn’t kill you the way it’s killing me?”

jaehyun

𓍯 you have no idea what your absence does to jaehyun. one time when jaehyun couldn't stop himself from crossing your boundaries as exes, he dialed your number and called you. when he didn't expect you to answer, you could hear how his voice wavers when he talks to you, how it almost feels like he's choking in his own tears, asking you to come back, and telling you how much he's struggling to move on. 

𓍯 “y/n, i can’t do this. please.” jaehyun’s voice cracked, his grip on your hand trembling as he stared at you with eyes that brimmed with desperation. “i don’t want to throw away all the love i have for you. i can’t. i could never give this love to someone else. so please... let me love you again.”  

𓍯 your heart clenched at the raw pain in his voice, but you forced yourself to stay firm. swallowing back the lump in your throat, you reached down to pry his hand off yours, even as it broke both of you further. “jaehyun, you can.” your voice shook, but you kept going, fighting through the ache. “right now, you feel like you can’t because… we just broke up. but trust me, you’ll move past this. you’ll give that love to someone else—someone who deserves it.”  

𓍯 his breath hitched, and he shook his head fiercely, tears streaking down his cheeks. “but they’re not you.” he choked out, the words thick with frustration and heartbreak. “y/n, it’s not the same if it’s not you.”  

𓍯 the weight of his words hung heavy in the air, suffocating. for a moment, you faltered, the pain in his voice slicing through your resolve like a blade. but you knew—no matter how much it hurt—it was over. you had to let go, even if he wasn’t ready to.

taesan 

𓍯 taesan dodges every potential relationship that comes his way, like he’s running from something he can’t bear to face. and maybe he is—because no matter how hard he tries, no matter how much time passes, he can never get over you.  

𓍯 it’s impossible for him to be with someone else without you creeping into his mind, lingering like a ghost in every quiet moment. every laugh he hears feels dull compared to yours. every fleeting touch lacks the warmth he once knew. even though you couldn’t care less that he’s still breathing, you haunt him in ways you’ll never realize.  

𓍯 women approach him, some bold, others subtle, each one trying to capture his attention. but none of them could ever come close to you. he knows it’s unfair, knows he’s holding them to a standard they could never meet because they’re not you. and yet, he lets the comparisons swallow him whole, shutting out every chance at moving on. 

𓍯 late at night, when the weight of it becomes too much to bear, he’ll grab his phone and type out messages that he knows he shouldn’t send. but he does anyway, each word a quiet plea he can’t hold back: “i just feel like… we didn’t even try enough. don’t you think?”

𓍯 even then, he knows the answer. he knows you’ve moved on without looking back. but for taesan, forgetting you feels like forgetting a part of himself

𓍯 taesan might appear composed and nonchalant to the world, but when it comes to you, he’s a storm of emotions he can’t contain. the mere thought of you and the life you could’ve shared leaves him unraveling, tears spilling freely as he lets himself feel every ounce of the ache, no longer holding back what he’s been keeping buried inside.

leehan

𓍯 when you were together, he never failed to share every detail of his day with you—what he ate, the things he saw, even the random thoughts that crossed his mind. but after the breakup, he didn’t know where to put all those thoughts anymore. with no one else to confide in, he started typing them into the notes on his phone, just in case there was ever a chance to talk to you again. in his mind, he held onto the hope that one day, he could sit down with you and tell you about everything you’d missed.

𓍯 but when reality sank in, when he realized that chance might never come, he couldn’t stop the tears from falling. the weight of missing you crushed him in moments like these, and no matter how hard he tried to distract himself, he always came back to the same aching longing.

𓍯 of all the members, he’d be the one trapped in the cycle of longing the longest. he wouldn’t open up to others, keeping his feelings bottled up instead. he thought if he could just hold on quietly, it might hurt less, but that only made moving forward harder.

𓍯 for leehan, moving on felt like losing you all over again. so he never rushed the process, knowing deep down that forcing himself to let go would only make the pain worse. he took his time, letting himself grieve at his own pace.

𓍯 he was sentimental to a fault. every little thing that had been yours—the mug you left behind, the hoodie you forgot to take home—still sat where it had always been, as if they’d belonged there all along. he didn’t have the heart to pack them away. they were pieces of you, and even if they hurt to look at, he couldn’t bring himself to let them go.

woonhak

𓍯 woonhak would be the type to keep his distance, even when his heart ached to be near you. no matter how much he missed you, he’d choose to stay in the background, silently watching as you moved forward without him. he convinced himself it was for the best, he didn’t want to disturb the peace you’d found in his absence.

𓍯 every time he thought about reaching out, his fingers would hover over his phone, only to set it down again with a quiet sigh. he couldn’t bring himself to pull you back into the tangled mess of emotions he carried. so instead, he stayed silent, swallowing his longing even when it hurt the most.

𓍯 one thing about woonhak is when he cries, he doesn’t hold back. tears fall freely as if each one carries the weight of everything he’s been holding inside. he doesn’t hesitate to let it out because keeping it in feels unbearable. but reaching out to you? that’s a step he’s too afraid to take.

𓍯  so instead, he turns to his most trusted friends, the ones who know him better than he knows himself sometimes. with shaky breaths and tear-streaked cheeks, he crumbles in their presence. “what the hell did i do wrong?” he chokes out, his voice breaking under the weight of his heartbreak. “where did it all go wrong? all i did was love her.” the words spill from him like a flood, his sobs filling the silence as his older friends wrap him in their quiet understanding. 

[churipu]

𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫! 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨

featuring. gojo satoru x reader

warnings. cursing

note. i thought of this when i saw a"rating celebrities i have met" video on tiktok, i imagined what gojo would be like as a celebrity — hence this fic. enjoy <;33 god i want to make actor! jujutsu kaisen a series so bad.

actor! gojo who first saw you during a fan meeting, and when you asked for a weird pose to do with him, he's immediately attached — like love at first sight?

actor gojo! who slips in his phone number when he was signing his picture that you asked him to sign, hoping that you, his very own fan would actually text him. because, he genuinely wants to get to know you better.

actor! gojo who receives a text from you during the night, and the first text he receives from you was a "is this a prank? if it's not, i'm going to roll on the ground and cry. if it is, i'm sorry you had to see this text." and he decided to play with you by saying it's a joke — but stopped when you actually believed in him.

actor! gojo who finds it funny that you still don't believe that the gojo satoru is texting you, so he decided to video call you to make you believe in him (you ended the call immediately and blocked his number for a bit after, only unblocking him when you got your head straight).

actor! gojo who eventually got to know you better, slipping in the time to video call you or voice call you during breaks in his busy schedule. sending you your cravings out of the blue, or even bouquets of your favorite flowers.

actor! gojo who will use his empty schedule to come and meet you — taking you out to eat or just spend the day in your home, or his apartment. even exhausted, he still wanted everything to work out with you, so he would do anything; even if most of the time, the both of you ended up napping together.

actor! gojo who sends selfies of himself or a short video of himself during his schedule so you could know what he was doing — pointing out the most unnecessary things in the video, like how he saw a cat (then taking a picture or video of the cat to send to you), or even telling you how he finished the shoot in a short amount of time, wanting you to be proud of him.

"hi! i just did a scene, and there was this really cute kitty — look, i named him tuxedo, 'cause his fur looks like a suit. isn't he cute? what do you think if i brought him home with me, i think you'd like him!" he said, panning the camera to the said cat, caressing its fur gently.

actor! gojo who checks his phone every time after a take in his shoot to see if you had replied to him, and when he sees your notification, he gets so motivated to do his shoot. and when you don't, he's pretty upset. he turns into a big baby and asks everyone in the set what it meant if someone replies late, he is so dramatic.

actor! gojo who if asked about his ideal type during interviews, mentions and describes your personality and looks. and everyone won't know that he was talking about you, he sees people talking about how specific his words are and speculates that he was seeing someone.

actor! gojo who trended on social media after that particular interview and the account who first speculated how specific his description is, and now the whole world is saying he has a secret lover or is dating backstreet.

actor! gojo who then receives a text from you asking about if he was seeing someone because of his trending name. and he decided to ask you out for good — telling you that it was you he was describing, and he would be glad if you'd go out with him.

[ you ] : you're trending omg

[ gojo satoru ] : i know :D

[ you ] : but now that i rewatched the video, it does seem like you're describing someone, who is it? 😏

[ gojo satoru ] : idk if you're nonchalant or you're just pretending not to know :/

[ you ] : ???

[ gojo satoru ] : it's you, silly. i'm describing you to the world, so now that i've said that — can i please be your boyfriend?

actor! gojo who immediately drives his way to your house when you said yes to him being your boyfriend; he had been holding back the urge to kiss you, holding you close, so when he's yours — he just has to have you close to him.

actor! gojo who was a little upset when you said you wanted to keep the relationship a secret from the world so his fans wouldn't be mad at him. but he accepted it, as long as you're comfortable.

actor! gojo who makes it clear to people on set, including his make up artist, and even director that he now has a partner; and that he's madly in love. everyone on set listens to him talk about you every single day, gojo is so lovestruck that he can't stop talking about you, telling people on set how great you are and how deeply in love he is with you.

actor! gojo who still slips in random selfies and videos of him during work so you won't overthink, he will tell you what he's about to do and with who even if you didn't ask — he didn't want to keep his partner waiting for him, he's communicative to what he's about to do so you won't worry.

actor! gojo who brings you out on a date to a fine dining restaurant one night and it turned out to be the gravest mistake ever when he finds his name trending the very next day, all for the wrong reasons.

actor! gojo who's first worry is you when he was trending. half of his "fans" were bashing the mysterious person (you) off, saying the most mean things ever, and half of his fans were happy that gojo was on a date with you, telling him how they're really happy that he's out on a date despite his busy schedule.

actor! gojo who makes sure you're alright first, telling you how you should never listen to whatever his "fans" are saying — because they're definitely not right, and they're just jealous. he tells you that he will resolve everything, so you don't have to worry about anything.

actor! gojo who clarifies, by quote retweeting a tweet that was meant to hate on you — clarifying that he's married to you (even if he's not), and that you're his partner. he EMPHASIZES on how he's not hesitating to sue anyone who delivered hate, and he's personally keeping track on the usernames of people who had made a hate towards you (he jots them down and screenshots them).

and most of these account decided to deactivate right after his open clarification. losers.

actor! gojo who then made a proper clarification by saying that he is indeed in a relationship with you and that you're his spouse (not yet), and he told the whole world how he won't hesitate to take legal actions to whoever decided to mess with him, his personal life, or you.

actor! gojo who was happy when most of his real fans supported both him and you, and tell you both how happy they are. he giggles and kicks his feet reading the comments about how you both are definitely going to last, and how you both will be the best couple ever. he screenshots them and make an album just for these comments, showing them to you to reassure you that everything was going to be fine. you were going to be fine. you both were going to be fine.

actor! gojo who was asked about you during interviews and he gets so happy and smiley that he gets to show you off in front of the camera, telling everyone how deep in love he is, and how you treat him like the best person in the world. the video went viral and people were so envious of you.

"oh, my spouse? best. person. ever. i met them during a fan meeting, yes. they were a fan of mine — i could say it was love at first sight, i look at them and i just knew i wanted to marry them."

people then began to believe that they have a chance with their own idols, most of them making this a meme, and they use gojo as one of those tiktok standards videos.

actor! gojo who still sends you selfies and videos after a long time of dating, never breaking the routine. even when he has a schedule out of the country — he still makes time for you, engaging in video calls and voice calls despite the time zones, sends you the sweetest voice mails when he can't do a call and brings you the best souvenirs ever.

actor! gojo who casually assumes that you both are married since the first time you both got caught — he bought you a ring, and just slips it on you, telling you that you're both now married. and you casually accepted, you both had your own moment, made the official marriage certificate without anyone knowing. and the next second, he just announces to the whole set who knew about his "clarification" that he's actually, for real, honestly, married to you. and he tells them his clarification wasn't just a lie to get out of the situation.

actor! gojo who posted your face for the first time in his social media after so long, and he trended again. this time, with you. the fans were so happy, he gets so happy when his fans compliments you — and he happily retweets and reposts every single thing they say about you. he's such a proud husband.

actor! gojo who mentions your name whenever he wins an award, once again telling the whole world how he wouldn't be able to make it until now without you by his side. and how he's so thankful that you're always there even during his toughest times. he has a habit of ending his award speech with a: "y/n l/n, you're the love of my life, i love you. mwah."

a fan of his made a compilation of his ending speech for you, and posted it on twitter, which of course, went viral.

actor! gojo who constantly posts you and writes about you on his social media with the cheesiest captions ever, and people were down for it. telling you how lucky you are to have a husband like him, and gojo always replies back by saying he was the lucky one.

actor! gojo who finds out you read fanfictions about him when you miss him, he pokes fun at you for it — but finds you really cute, then you both make it a routine to read fanfictions of him.

"oh, i would totally do that. how did they even come up with these? they're really good at this," gojo laughs, laying his chin on top of your shoulder as you scrolled your phone.

actor gojo! who gets so happy when you come to visit him on set, and gets so motivated because you were there real time to see him on the act. and spends his break with you, the crew on set gets so disgusted by him and posts about how gojo acts around you on social media — and the fans are finding it hilarious, they ask the crew for more information about gojo and you.

actor! gojo who definitely brings you to red carpet awards, wanting you to be there with him. asking the paparazzi to take many pictures of you so that he could save them, and they do. taking your pictures from different angles, posting them on social media so gojo could save them.

actor! gojo who refuses acts where he has to kiss another actor/ress, he didn't mind holding hands or hugging. but when it comes to locking his lips with another person who is not you — he won't do it. even when you tell him that it was fine since it was his job, gojo still refuses, and directors would go lengths as long as gojo will act for them, cutting out the kiss scenes and settling for something less intimate.

actor! gojo who sometimes get caught by paparazzi when he's on the way to visit you or when he's buying a gift for you. telling the paparazzi they shouldn't upload the pictures until a specific date when he's planning to surprise you, and the paparazzi agrees (sometimes), but when some of them uploaded the pictures right on the same day, he gets so upset that they ruined his surprise for you.

actor! gojo who protects you from shameless paparazzis, not hesitating to tell them off in front of the camera for you. because, let's all be real, most paparazzis could be a pain in the ass, they could be awful, and they could be really persistent.

"hey, back off from them. i'll fucking hurt you if you get closer, understand?" and these paparazzi will taunt him for it, but gojo could care less about them, he only cares about your safety.

"i'll ruin your fucking camera, y'piece of shit. don't you fucking dare touch my spouse, i'm serious." he mutters out, pushing away a man who had undoubtedly came rushing over, trying to get you out of the way so he could picture gojo.

actor! gojo who makes it clear that he won't tolerate people being hurting you at all. and he won't be afraid to take a risk to hurt them back for you.

actor! gojo who will sacrifice his job for you. because on camera and behind camera, all he thinks about is you.

© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE

[miley1442111]

i was thinking about a rafe x fem thornton !reader where Rafe is Toppers bsf and can’t help saying things about reader who’s toppers sister. topper gets like ‘ew bro wtf she’s my sister’

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============

name of the game?- r.cameron

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a/n: Hello! thank you so much for requesting and sorry it took so long!

pairing: rafe cameron x fem! thornton! reader

summary: i suggest you look at the request

warnings: suggestive mentions, kissing, rafe and topper getting angry, reader gets fed up

============

You felt Rafe’s hands on your ass before you knew what was happening. “Fuck off!” you squealed as you jumped from the boat and into the crystal water. You heard Rafe’s hearty laugh as you resurfaced. 

“I’m sorry baby,” he smiled. “Too pretty.”

“Dude! That’s my fuckin’ sister!” Topper complained as Kelce dragged him inside. Rafe responded with his middle finger. 

You rolled your eyes at him, and swam about for a while. When you came back, Rafe was standing by the ladder with a smile. “Hey baby.”

“Hi,” you pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder (the nearest place to his head that you could reach with your lips easily), and moved past him, into the boat with a towel wrapped around you. Topper and Kelce were inside with their girlfriends, all either napping or chatting. 

You lay on one of the couches, taking out your phone as you scrolled mindlessly through social media. You loved days like these, hot, summer days where you could just take out the Cameron yacht and swim, lounge, and be with Rafe as much as you liked. Rafe sat beside you, pulling your head into his lap and playing with your hair as you chuckled at your phone. 

Rafe adored you, it was clear to anyone who looked at you two. You were Topper’s twin, and at the start, he hated the idea. He knew what Rafe was, how Rafe treated girls, but he somehow warmed up to the idea, though he didn’t like seeing you two being affectionate when he was there. Which was fine, usually. But today? Rafe was being extra affectionate, you assumed it had something to do with the fight the two boys had earlier in the week, a fight which was stupid and insignificant, but both sides had been talking your ear off about it all week. You were at wits end, and if they dragged it out any longer, you’d probably block the both of them and just stay at friends house until they worked it out. 

“Dude,” Topper scoffed. “Seriously?”

Rafe shrugged, feigning innocence as a hand travelled from your hair to your chest. You swatted his hand away and sighed. 

“Behave,” you warned and Rafe just smirked. 

“You should listen to your girlfriend,” Topper said, annoyance dripping from his voice. “That’s fucking gross.”

“Topper, behave,” you warned, noticing how the skin on Rafe’s neck started going red, and how his temper was rising. “I’m going out to tan,” you announced, getting up and pulling Rafe with you, hoping they’d just squash this dumb drama they’d created. 

You lay out on the sunchair as Rafe sat on the one beside you, holding your hand. “He’s such a dick,” his leg was bouncing, he had that far-off look in his eye, and his hand was squeezing yours quite tight. 

You took a deep breath and squeezed his hand. “Ignore him.”

Rafe’s head snapped up. “How the fuck can I ignore him when he’s shouting at me for loving my fucking girlfriend? What is his fucking problem?!” 

You rolled your eyes behind your sunglasses and sighed. “Then keep being annoyed at him! I don’t give a fuck Rafe, just stop making today all about your fucking fight.”

He was silent for a few moments, a rare scene. Rafe was ridiculously talkative with you, it made you confused because people always used to tell you that he was rather reserved and introverted. 

“Baby?” he sputtered out. 

“Yeah?”

“Have I ever told you how hot you are?” he pressed kisses up your hand and arm, eventually ending up on his knees beside you. You chuckled as he started kissing your neck, and moving you over to have you lie on top of him. He got you to straddle him as he pulled you in for one intoxicating kiss after the other and you found yourself getting as hot as he was. Maybe it was the tan he had, or his freshly shaven head, or maybe it was just Rafe, but he looked good. 

“Love you so much,” he whispered. 

“Love you too,” you replied, letting your hands explore. 

“So pretty baby. So pretty for me,” he smiled as he pulled back to kiss your neck. As his hands went further down, your awareness of the world around you plummeted, and you sadly did not notice your older brother coming out for a swim. 

“EW!” he screamed as you and Rafe jumped apart. “Fuck’s sake man! I need to go bleach my fucking eyes after that!”

Rafe rolled his eyes and tried to pull you back on his lap, but you resisted. “Go bleach your fucking eyes then bitch.”

“Rafe!” you scolded. “Sorry Top, we thought you were staying inside.”

Topper just shook his head and walked back inside, obviously to go complain some more. 

“This is fuckin’ ridiculous,” Rafe cursed, lying back. “I can’t even kiss my own girlfriend on my fucking boat.”

“Yeah, you fucking can’t,” you scoffed, walking off. Did he really have to piss Topper off? You’d never hear the end of it. It was infuriating having those two hold each other over your head, always fighting about you. It drove you insane. 

“Baby come on,” Rafe sighed, trying to grab your hand. “I’m sorry baby-”

“I don’t want to hear it,” you interrupted. “Just let me enjoy the rest of my day on my own, please Rafe. You two are driving me insane.” 

He nodded, despite how badly he wanted to be around you, and set off inside to make up with Topper, determined to make this work. He was his best friend, what’s the worst that could happen?

============

“I’m sorry I’m dating your sister,” Rafe blurted out. Both Topper and Kelce turned to look at him, as their girlfriends just absented themselves from the conversation to speak to you. “But we can’t keep doing this bullshit. I love her-”

“Bullshit,” Topper swore. “You wouldn’t know love if it hit you in the fucking face.”

Rafe took a deep breath. “I love her. Genuinely, I do. And us fighting drives her crazy, because she loves you, and she loves me-”

“Has she said that?” Topper questioned, sounding much too condescending for Rafe’s liking. 

“Yes,” he gritted out. 

Topper nodded. “But you know why I’m mad, right?”

Rafe nodded reluctantly. “PDA,” he mumbled. 

“Sorry, I couldn’t hear you?” Topper mocked.

“PDA,” Rafe said more clearly. “I’ll tone it down.”

“You will. Because that’s my little sister,” he scoffed.

“But can’t you get why I’m annoyed?” 

“What the fuck do you have to be annoyed about?” 

“She’s my girlfriend! I should be allowed to kiss my girlfriend on my fucking boat!” He whined. 

Top rolled his eyes, sarcastically answering. “Sure, just keep it away from me, don’t invite me on the next one, how about that?”

“Top, you two need to fix this,” Kelce added. “Y/n’s going crazy.”

Both the boys sighed. 

“Truce?” Top offered, holding out his hand.

“Truce,” Rafe nodded, taking his hand. Top pulled Rafe down to whisper in his ear. 

“If you fucking hurt her, I’ll kill you.”

Rafe just chuckled, knowing he could probably punch him once and he’d be out cold. “Sure, buddy.”

Topper rolled his eyes as Rafe walked off with a satisfied smirk, always getting what he wanted with minimal effort. It was almost impressive how easy things came to him.

============

obx masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games, challengers :)

[esotericbluntbaby]

indelible

hamzahthefantastic x reader

description: it's been a full year since you and hamzah broke up, causing you to go silent towards your whole friend group. after rekindling at a grocery store, mandy invites you to a party she's hosting. you go, noticing a familiar set of eyes staring at you throughout the night.

mentions: reader heavily loves pickles, angst and yearning (obvi), she/her pronouns, slight argument, ex!hamzah (who will be back for a lottttt of different fics), sfw!

blood orange is so freaking good i was listening to blood orange and got the idea for this fic <3

--

"martin, is that..?"

you turned around in the aisles messily stacked with assorted jars of pickles and olives, revealing a guy and a girl of your past: the faces behind the whisper. you gazed at the couple in front of you with a certain whimsical, yet surprised stare. martin and mandy were the two people who, at one point, helped toronto feel like home after moving there from the states. meeting mandy at a frozen yogurt stand after she complimented your outfit with welcoming radiance, you soon met martin and became apart of their small, yet comfortable and familiar group.

it was only until you met hamzah that they remained the people who created warmth for you to take in. you and hamzah had a specific energy, tying your souls together as if they were forever meant to be intertwined. chemistry erupted from the first interaction between the two of you; a nostalgic, childlike sense of happiness emerged between you guys similar to high school football games and puppy love. with hamzah, you were never scared. in fact, risk and excitement amplified itself within you every time you took your friendship with him a step further.

it wasn't surprising when hamzah decided he'd kiss you in front of martin, mandy, claire, and chase while at martin and mandy's abode. it also wasn't surprising when you two popped out as a couple a day or two later. the relationship your friends observed was one they rooted for; you knew in that moment that none of your friends would pity you at your wedding, which was new to you after trials and errors of different relationships with different guys.

it was definitely not a fairytale of your childhood dreams with him, actually, the complete opposite. you enjoyed the fact that your days weren't always fast-paced and full of moments that felt like it should be posted on some social media to get a thousand likes. sometimes, your days were slow. your days were filled with laundry baskets piled to the top and a race to see who gets to sort clothes faster. your days were filled with morning breath and uncomfortable, yet cozy positions in bed with hamzah. your days had occasional arguments, yet, they were always solved within a day or two. this was the man you wanted to marry.

however, you've always had the mindset of fairy tales always containing an ending to them, happy or not. you saw him less and less as the relationship went on, as his channel with martin was slowly but surely taking off the mainstream media. he began to hermit inside of his office, sometimes even sleeping there for days, almost as if the job was a ball and chain tied to his leg. yet, he also didn't want it off of him no matter how many times he's found the key. he would spend days without seeing you, seemingly by choice, leaving you worried and lonely. it was after a full two years and three months that you decided to end things with him for the sake of your own mental health, sanity, and wellness.

it was hard at first; honestly, you wanted to curl into a ball and hide away from everyone. martin and mandy were supportive, as they noticed all the times hamzah ditched you to edit or to film or to email. yet, each time you saw their faces, all you could see was him. so, slowly, "yeah, you can come over later," turned into "i'll see if i have plans," which eventually and gradually turned into, "sorry, i'm busy." you felt guilty, but you needed to erase him from your mind, like white paint to a canvas, in order to fully heal. it was never going to be a permanent thing, yet it's also been a full year since you last spoke to them. this was probably one of the most awkward things you could've ever encountered and on this fateful thursday night, you did.

"oh, hi," you softly greeted, rubbing the back of your neck with your free hand that wasn't holding the grocery basket.

mandy's gaze was as surprised as yours was, "wow, it's been ages."

"yeah, y'know... i've just been busy..."

"are you doing anything tonight?"

the guilt of being gone for so long finally decided to show up, chasing after your stream of consciousness like a dog chasing a bone.

"no, no i'm not."

--

without fully realizing until you were sitting in their dining room chair, you were now at martin and mandy's amicable apartment. a cup of tea accompanied your hands; for warmth or for comfort, you weren't really sure. it's been small talk for the past twenty minutes since you've arrived. guilt, as it always does, was still biting at your chest cavity like a parasite. so, to ease it away from you, you decided to speak about the elephant in the room.

"look, martin, mandy, i'm really sorry i haven't spoken to you guys in ages and just stopped responding. honestly, i guess i kinda saw hamzah every single time i saw you two. it hurt too much and i couldn't take it anymore."

mandy held your hand in her palm, "no, i get it-"

"are we pushing you too far by, like, bringing you to our apartment right after seeing us again without it being planned?" martin asked, genuine worry laced in his vocal infliction.

"no, no, definitely not. i've healed, already," you sipped your tea, "i was planning on contacting you guys soon. i guess soon ended up being, y'know, today."

"how have you been? or, like, have you healed from you and hamzah" mandy asked hesitantly; almost as if the mere mention of his name would've broken you like fine china being dropped.

"i've, uh, i've been alright- i guess, sometimes, i still think about him. it's inevitable. the mere thought of him chases after me to this day. it's weird, like, as soon as i got rid of his stuff, i felt okay; i felt fine and i didn't cry, but then there are days where i stumble upon an ad for fantastic mr. fox and i end up crying for weeks straight. i'm not really sure, y'know, when it'll end. hopefully, soon."

mandy's grip on your hand tightened as martin listened to each word you said, processing every emotion and memory held onto your words.

"would you ever get back together with him?" martin asked, as mandy lightly slapped his shoulder, "sorry, was that too blunt? or, like- fuck- sorry you don't have to answer tha-"

"maybe."

mandy's eyebrows raised inquisitively, "really?"

you placed your cup of tea down and started fidgeting with your hands, "i mean, i've always believed in that whole fate thing. destiny can't be changed and that type of shit. i don't hate him. i guess i- what's the word- resent.. him..? i couldn't hate him if i tried. i guess what i'm saying is if the universe decided to bring us back together, i'd probably be scared, but i also wouldn't oppose it completely. i don't know; we were young and i didn't know how to communicate and he didn't know how to balance. it's obvious that it wouldn't work out, then. i don't know about now."

"you seem to have thought about this a lot, to the point where you can talk about it in that way," mandy mentioned.

"so, you would give him another shot?" martin added.

you thought for a moment, "it depends on how that shot happens."

looking at the clock, you realized that it was now almost 10 pm. though you didn't have work or plans tomorrow, you didn't want to overstay your visit and leech onto them and their house. after all, the three of you just reconnected after a full year of absence and silence.

"i didn't even realize it was 10; i should probably get going, now," you got up and scooted in your chair.

mandy reached out to give you a hug, to which you returned, "wait, me and martin are having a get-together tomorrow. it's not a rager, but it's also not, like, lame, i guess. come. chase and claire are visiting and they've been asking about you lately too. everyone misses you."

the whole day was filled of taking chances and playing with the fate you previously thought you were aware of. what's one more game of odds?

"sure. i'll be there."

--

the house was dark, yet also thoughtfully lit with ambient lighting. shades of oranges and blues lit everyone's skin with a contrasting hue, reminiscent of a sunset on the ocean. there wasn't too many people there; if anything, you knew a good majority of them. yet, the thought of why you knew them, or the thought of hamzah's many introductions to get you used to his crowd, made your heart hurt a little. you arrived late, letting yourself in since mandy, nor martin weren't answering their phones. greeting a couple of familiar faces on your way in, you finally found your way to martin and mandy, speaking to chase and claire.

things felt normal for the first time in a long time. you were not alone, in fact, you were with the people who created what "home" was, in the first place. for being in a room with so many people who helped create the best atmosphere for you to thrive in, you still felt lonely. you didn't know it was possible to feel this conflicted; how could you feel lonely when you know you aren't alone?

suddenly, hamzah walked through the kitchen doors to the dining table you were sat at. a red crewneck and baggy, black jeans adorned his body, as well as the black sambas that were years and years old. the beanie that adorned his head, revealing tiny, black curls peeking out of it, complimented the silver chain on his necklace; you recognized it. it was yours.

"i could not find the cups, mandy, where are the cu-"

his eyes locked onto yours as if your pupils were magnets destined to be pulled together. you, then, saw what you witnessed when you first fell in love with him: nostalgia. childlike wonder. puppy love. the table went silent, watching this encounter unfold. everyone's eyes were widened in shock. in that moment, you couldn't hear the music, nor the people around you speaking, nor the drinks being poured or dog barking outside. the only thing you were focused on was the boy in front of you. frozen in space, you hoped you wouldn't have to be the first to speak. yet, you also never were the first one to speak.

"can we talk?"

you nodded, not knowing where this conversation was going to be headed.

--

you were both outside on martin and mandy's rooftop. you mentioned to him that you find it easier to talk when gazing at the stars and being in his presence, though, you were also dating at the time. you wondered if he remembered or if this was a coincidence. currently, you were sat in silence, waiting for him to break it.

"that wasn't the first time i saw you, tonight."

your gaze turned from the stars of the sky to the ones reflected in his irises, "what?"

"this whole night, i've been staring at the door. i wasn't really sure who i was waiting for, but i just felt the need to. now that you're here, i know now. i saw you when you entered and had a mini-panic attack in the kitchen. i don't even know what to say to you now that we're out here."

it became silent again, as you didn't respond.

he continued, "i miss you. i don't think there's a single day that went by where i don't fuck myself up for losing you. fuck, baby, i miss everything about you."

"you do?"

"there's so many texts i wrote you, but i just never sent them. i almost send, like, three of them a week."

"what do they have in them?"

"y'know, updates, my life, asking how you are, apologizing for being a total fucking ass."

"you were a total fucking ass," you teased, laughing ever-so-slightly, "it's okay. it's obvious you've changed and most likely grew."

he laughed as well before his face morphed into something more serious, "if you let me, i'll spend the rest of my life making everything i did up to you."

"and remind me what you did?"

"i didn't treat you the way that i was supposed to- the way you deserve. i'm sorry, i promise i'll fix things," he grabbed your cheek gently and nudged your head towards him, "please, baby, let me fix things. i'll beg, if i have to."

you sighed, "hamzah, i'm scared."

hamzah took out his phone and put in his password.

"my birthday? you haven't changed your password from my birthday in a full year?"

"yeah, uh, i just didn't want to."

he clicked on his notes app and gave you the phone, then turned to the sky and gazed at the different twinkling lights up above.

"what is this?" you asked.

"i write you letters whenever i think about you so much to the point where it gets overwhelming.

you read the first note titled "1/19," which was a couple of days ago.

1/19

hey, baby. how are you? i miss you a lot. i went to the store today and i got the pickles you like. i don't even like pickles. or, i guess, now i do. ever since we ended things, i go to the store just to get a jar of the pickles you liked. i think every time i eat them it makes me think about that one time you forced me to try one and i literally almost threw up because of how disgusting they are. i think i just eat them because idk they make me think of you. i hope you're doing alright. i hope your studies are going good. you're graduating in, what, like a year? that's crazy. i hope i'll be able to be there with you. i'm sorry, for everything, again. i say this in every paragraph. i fucked up. i know that, but please, please let me fix it. i'll be a good boyfriend, i'll even be a good husband one day. i promise. i'll talk to you again soon.

by the end of the paragraph, you teared up. looking beside you at him, a worrisome look entered his face as he gazed ahead of him; a second chance is the most desirable thing to him. he doesn't care about money, or fame, or sex. he's been yearning for you.

you copied his move; your hand made its way to hamzah's cheek, nudging it slowly but surely towards you. the twinkle in his eyes held hope, as did yours as it mirrored him. you sat there, simply looking into each other's eyes and possibly each other's soul; there was no rush, there was only love. your lips made its way onto his, softly, for a mere second. you pulled away as his lips chased after yours, kissing once again with a certain firmness and desperation laced into it.

"i'm sorry again, baby," he admits as he pulls away, "please, please let me back into your life. i don't care how hard or how long i have to work for it; let me earn you back. i can't live without you."

you smiled one of the most genuine smiles you've had in ages, "i trust you, hamzah."

"is that a yes?"

"i dunno. what do you think, idiot?"

--

author's note

goodnight guys! <3

[ktkat99]

Update to this prompt I posted a little while ago. Scroll to the bottom for a link to the story.

Tim gets injured while not wearing his suit one night.

Bernard, who has never met Tim before, finds him and takes him home. He ends up losing his memory and Bernard decides to let him move in while he heals, unaware that he's really Red Robin.

Bruce and the rest of the family can't find Tim anywhere.

Days turn into weeks.

Weeks turn to months.

All without a trace.

Tim and Bernard are getting used to living together, and both the pros and cons of being roommates.

Tim will sometimes have nightmares or flashbacks, but he’s also started to heal.

His family ends up torn, with Jason, Dick, and Steph convinced he’s alive, while Bruce, Cass and Damian have all resigned themselves to believing that he died.

One night, Tim and Bernard take a nighttime walk to a convenience store and witness a robbery.

Tim stops the guy on instinct and has a flashback of fighting with Nightwing. He assumes he was a criminal and runs off before the clerk can thank him.

Something the clerk mentions to Officer Dick Greyson when he arrives to arrest the thief. The clerk hands over the surveillance footage, which ends up being proof that Tim survived.

Dick is overjoyed, but Steph and Jason point out that he isn't being held hostage. He's free and yet never contacted them.

Was he in hiding?

From them?

Or for his own protection from someone?

Or maybe the civilian he was with had done something to him?

Whatever the reason, they decide against telling the rest of the family until they can figure out what's going on.

They begin following Tim, keeping their distances.

Tim, meanwhile, after ‘remembering’ being a criminal, can't stop obsessing over his scars, and who he might have hurt to receive them. He keeps thinking about the convenience store clerk and Bernard, wracked with guilt about all the things he may have done.

Bernard stays by him the whole time, doing his best to calm him down.

Tim doesn't tell him what's on his mind out of fear of being kicked out, and Bernard assumes the event was too stressful for him and doesn't push him to talk.

Eventually, the two of them fall asleep together, and Tim promises to make up for his past crimes by protecting Bernard. Things gradually go back to normal with Bernard going to work and Tim, who has no valid id, staying home and taking care of the apartment.

Nightwing, Red Hood, and Spoiler take turns watching Tim and Bernard.

They still haven't told their family, but know they can't just follow Tim forever.

Before they can decide on their next move, though, Cass bumps into him while grocery shopping. She freezes and he doesn't recognize her, but Dick, Jason, and Steph have to come clean.

Cass is pissed, Bruce wants to bring Tim home immediately, and Damian points out that he might not even want to come home, and that they should leave him be.

They decide that, before they make their decision, they need to talk to Tim. Maybe he really did just decide to quit.

Tim, meanwhile, has been using his free time while Bernard is at work to help people who need it. He becomes somewhat of a neighborhood vigilante, believing that he needs to make up for his past crimes.

Most of the injuries he incurs are minor and easy to hide from Bernard, but one day he takes a knife to the arm.

Bernard freaks out and tries to give him stitches in their kitchen, but then has to convince Tim to let him take him to a hospital.

Tim, not wanting to be arrested for crimes he doesn't remember committing, therefore leaving Bernard alone, argues that he's fine.

It doesn't hurt that bad.

He'll heal.

Bernard gets frustrated and shows off his own scars, which he had worked hard to always keep hidden. He explains what happened to him, and how his family disowned him as a result of ending up in the cult, and that he promises he won't put Tim in a situation where he could be in danger.

He asks to know why Tim is so adamant against going to the hospital and Tim reluctantly admits what he's pieced together from his flashbacks.

Bernard is shocked to find out that he might have been sharing his apartment with a criminal, but reasons that that must be why Tim knows how to fight.

Deciding to focus on the problem at hand, Bernard convinces Tim to at least let him take him to Leslie’s place, as she doesn't ask questions.

Leslie proceeds to ask questions, prompting Bernard to be the one to answer them for Tim.

Leslie comes to the conclusion that Bernard is answering so that Tim doesn't say the wrong thing, and only grows more concerned when she tries to subtly give him openings to slip her a message or some sort of sign that he needs help and he doesn't.

She decides that, since he's acting like he's never met her, she'll play along.

Once Bernard and Tim leave, she calls Bruce and tells him what happened.

Bruce decides it's time to step in because something is clearly wrong with Tim.

Tim and Bernard head back home and have a long talk about everything Tim's been hiding and what he's been up to.

Bernard wonders if Tim might be wrong about his assumption that he was a criminal, but Tim remembers stalking Batman, fighting with Nightwing, Robin trying to kill him and a few other things.

Tim was a criminal, and he's certain of it.

At a loss of what else to do, Bernard convinces Tim to get takeout for dinner, since neither have eaten yet.

Tim agrees and they walk down to Tim's favorite place.

On the way there, Batman and Nightwing show up and order them into the Batmobile.

Tim manages to fight off Nightwing as Batman is driving and Nightwing isn't expecting Tim to fight him and escapes with Bernard.

Their suspicions all appear to be confirmed; the Batfam believe Tim is being controlled by Bernard, while Bernard and Tim believe he's a wanted criminal.

Tim decides he needs to leave, since he's obviously being hunted, but Bernard refuses to let him.

Not alone, at least.

Tim wants Bernard to stay safe, which means away from him, but Bernard is just as worried about Tim's safety. They argue, but ultimately both find an abandoned building to hide in together.

They decide to take turns sleeping and Tim falls asleep wondering what sort of crime he committed to warrant the Bats searching for him. He ends up dreaming of the night he found his father's body and wakes up believing that he killed him.

Bernard has nodded off at this point and Tim needs to clear his head so he heads up to the roof to process what he dreamed about.

The bats decide that, for their safety and his, Tim will need to be taken by force and they can figure out what's wrong with him once they have him back home.

They track them to the abandoned building and break in, but only find Bernard.

Bernard ends up getting captured quickly and taken to the batcave for questioning.

Tim, who witnessed the abduction but hadn't been quick enough in getting down from the roof to do anything, decides it's time to go on the offensive against the bats.

He has had enough flashbacks to piece together that Batman is Bruce.

He's tired.

Angry.

Frustrated.

He's been living for months without knowledge of who he used to be and having to deal with random flashbacks and trying to piece together what his life before looked like.

The bats taking Bernard is his last straw.

He decides to start by breaking into the manor and looking for Bernard there.

Bernard, meanwhile, is desperately trying to convince Bruce and the others that he has no idea where Tim is, that he didn't do anything to Tim, and that Tim has amnesia.

They don't believe him until Tim shows up and goes all-out trying to attack them and escape with Bernard, but Bernard is the one who manages to calm him down and convince him to listen to his family.

It takes a while, and a lot of proof, but Tim finally regains his memory.

He and Bernard officially start dating and move back in together.

They like to joke that Bernard had the craziest introduction to the family, despite being a civilian.

[skyizhou]

╰  4,114 words · ˚ ༘ ꒱ When the doorbell rings after a few months, Sylus does not hesitate to put down his glass of whiskey and smile to himself in the darkness. Good girls never disappoint, and she just happens to be his best and only girl.

alternate universe — no powers. female reader. third person. age gap ( sylus is in his late thirties, and reader is in her early twenties ). friends to lovers. freak for freak dynamics. mentions of alcohol and violence, an unnamed shitty ex for reader. caretaker ! sylus. sugar daddy dynamics, heavy power imbalance. masturbation. somnophilia. drugging. babytrapping + breeding. fingering. cunnilingus. dubious consent, includes groping and manhandling.

For as long as anyone can remember, she had always been with Sylus.

They are not together, not even in the slightest, but they are friends — one would even say that they are the best of friends. The difference in their ages never bothered either of them. Sylus may have been in his late-thirties, and she, in her early-twenties, but that never had been a problem.

‘She makes me feel young,’ he mused one too many times, always after a few too many glasses of straight vodka emptied on the table. ‘You’re not even that old, oh god,’ she would groan to his shoulder, the fabric damp with a mess of her sweat and tears and more than one of the numerous alcohol in her glass that barely cradles the full volume of her monstrous concoction. Everyone in their circle would always end up laughing, and he would spend the night trying to bribe her to get down from the table before bringing her to his home, and to his bed where she would spend the night.

Nobody even knows how they began, not that they can answer it either. One day, they were both alone, until one day, they were not. It just felt — and it still feels — like the most natural thing in the world, being with Sylus and having him by her side. 

After all, where one goes, the other follows. 

He picks her up after class, and she visits him at work. He brings her to the restaurants that she wants to try, each one she talked about before having seen it on her social media; she brings him food, a sandwich or a few pastries that he mentioned once before that he wishes to try.

If one sees Sylus, then it is of no surprise if they end up seeing her too.

Some people even say that if they cannot find her, then just look for Sylus; chances are, she will be hanging off his arm with the brightest smile that makes even the sun pale in comparison. On the other hand, if they cannot seem to find Sylus, then just look for her; more often than not, he is definitely trailing after her with a besotted curl of his lips.

Eventually, his things end up mixing with hers, a sweatshirt hanging on the back of her couch, his imported sauces that find a home in her kitchen cabinets, and even bottles of his toiletries in her bathroom. In the same vein, her things find their way to his home too, a few of her stuffed animals on his bed, more than a few days’ worth of clothes in his closet, and her own fluffy robe that hangs right beside his.

Just like it has always meant to be.

She ignores how much the mere sight of their things mingling with their respective spaces makes her preen, just like how she has been ignoring how his mere presence is enough to cloud her senses in a rose-coloured haze.

It is easier this way, to pretend that nothing is out of the ordinary.

Her feelings do not matter when compared to their friendship. She is a big girl who can swallow the affection that threatens to spill from her lips every time he looks at her. She can take having to bite down the words that wish to interrupt whenever someone approaches Sylus, but she cannot resist the smugness that drips out of her whenever they all always end up rejected and his attention is returned to her like nothing ever happened.

Sylus is what home should feel like, warm and safe.

His plans shatter the moment a yapping pup enters the picture.

The man-who-should-never-be-named enters with all the bluster that comes with youth and more bark than bite, arrogant little shit. Sylus is not afraid of his proximity to his darling girl, not when she is far more clever than anyone — save for himself — gives her credit for. His presence in her life means that her standards should have risen to bars that only he can surpass. 

Unfortunately, for all his foresight, such a thing did not happen.

Sylus can do no more than watch from the sidelines as she falls way too quickly, way too deep, that he can no longer bring her to the surface. It makes something in his chest ache, his teeth to dig into his cheeks until the taste of iron is all-encompassing. From the tightness  of his clenched fists, pomegranates bloom from burst blood vessels until half-moon indents turn red from the blood.

Everything is fine, all of it is fine. He can be patient, especially when it comes to her.

But he is no saint, not when this stupid mutt keeps on testing him.

When she comes to him, eyes heavy with weariness and resignation, giving voice to words that do not belong to her heart — we should probably keep distance, it wouldn’t look nice to anyone if they see me hanging around you while I have a boyfriend — Sylus has to resist the urge to rip that bastard’s head off of his neck. All he does is smile, eyes curled into crescents to mask the rage that simmers deep inside of him, and agree.

He can never deny her anything after all.

So, he bides his time.

Foolish boys like that piece of shit can never take care of girls properly, can never spoil them the way they should be, can never fuck them the way a real man could. Little mutts like him tend to bark the loudest, knowing that it is all they have when their fangs will never be sharp enough. 

He keeps his distance, watches through the sidelines, and waits.

When the doorbell rings after a few months, Sylus does not hesitate to put down his glass of whiskey and smile to himself in the darkness.

Good girls never disappoint, and she just happens to be his best and only girl.

When the worst happens, there is only one place that she knows to turn to.

The breakup had been a long time coming, everyone who knew her and the ex-who-must-never-be-named have always said that she was too good for someone like him. It is only now that she finally let those words sink into her brain and packed her bags, but not without leaving him with a parting slap — right above the kiss mark on his jaw that was not done in any of her lipstick shades.

She breaks up with him in the morning, and finds herself on Sylus’ front porch before evening falls completely and drowns the rest of the city in darkness.

There is no way that she will stay in that shitty apartment of his, not when she was paying more than half of the rent on top of the electricity and water bills. Let him be kicked out, he should not have cheated on her in the first place anyway.

She is here because she knows Sylus, knows that she can stay for a few weeks just to get her bearings back, and knows that he would be delighted.

He is kind to her like that.

It has barely been a minute since she rang the bell, but he is already there, windswept and breathless as if he ran just to open his door so she would not have to wait. Her heart aches with the fondness, but it is overtaken by the weight of her sorrow.

“We broke up.”

Three simple words that fall from her lips unbidden, her first words to him in months, but Sylus does not even falter when taking her into his arms and letting her cry on his chest over the time wasted on a man who did not see her worth and the time they had to spend apart because of his fragile masculinity. She weeps and clings to Sylus like a lifeline, like he is an anchor to her life that is splintering at the seams, then she lets herself rest.

He will take care of her, he always does.

They are friends, nothing more and nothing less.

Now though, everyone knows that it is only about time before it turns into something more, with the upstart pup finally out of the picture and she is finally in his home. The arrangement was only meant for a few days, then it extends to a few weeks, and when it turns to a month, she tries to offer him payment for the rent he never asked for that he snaps his teeth at playfully.

His eyes remain cold, however.

“Do you think I can’t take care of you?” He asks, teeth bared in a playful snarl but the threat of his bite is true. “Do you think I’d need your money to take care of you, hm?”

It is offensive, how she thinks that she owes him money after everything. As if he demands monetary compensation when her presence in his life is more than enough. She brings light to his days, a stability to the chaos that runs around his mind. She is all that matters, much more now that she is finally in his grasp.

She shrinks at his words, and he feels something inside of him turn cold. He was too much, too fast, too harsh. His arms reach for her almost immediately, tucking her underneath his chin for an embrace. Sylus is careful to not hold her too tight, to not hold her too loosely either. “Baby, really. I’m sorry for snapping at you like that. You understand, don’t you? I can take care of you, of this house, and everything else. All you have to do is to be pretty, safe, and happy. Can you do that for me, darling?”

When she nods hesitantly, he relaxes and presses a kiss to her crown.

“Good girl.”

For a few weeks, that is that.

Sylus thinks that peace has finally returned to their home, because this entire space that belongs to his name is shared by another — the only one that he wants to stay here forever, and she is finally letting him take care of her.

Until he stumbles upon her one night, scrawling on her notebook with her money separated into bills and coins. Something like irritation builds in his stomach at the mere sight.

“What are you doing?” He keeps the tone of his voice even, red tracking the way she jumps in surprise and tries to hide the notebook before giving up with a sigh. She gives him a small smile, shaky at the corners, but he is not fooled in the slightest.

The silence stretches, becoming filled with tension.

She gives in, breaks her gaze to look elsewhere. “Budgeting,” she whispers, but to his ears it sounds like a scream.

His eyebrows furrow, meeting in the middle. A frown finds its way to appear on his features. “Budgeting,” he repeats, not even as a question but as if a statement on its own. For a moment, he sees red. This stubborn little girl, really. Sylus does not know if her youth is equal to this behaviour or if it is simply in her nature, he does not know, and that lack of control and knowledge over one thing so dear to his heart is enough to rattle him.

Instead of letting it turn into another argument when she does not answer, he only pulls out his wallet and plucks a black card to lay it flat on the table.

“Use that,” he smiles, despite the way his teeth ache from the tightness in his jaw. “Don’t tell me no, darling. I don’t care for your protests and cute little refusals. You live under my roof, you better spend my money. That’s the rule. There is no such thing as having to budget for things here, alright?”

The only consolation he gets is the delightful flush on her cheeks, the widening of her eyes, and the clenching of her thighs to one another.

“I said, alright?” It was a demand for a response, one that makes her breath hitch before she gives him a frantic nod. A pretty little thing so desperate to please. Sylus watches as she reaches for the black card, holding it close to her chest with something like awe and finds something in him finally settling.

Her thighs pressing against one another under the table does not go ignored, not when all of his senses are intimately attuned to every movement that she does.

Sylus can feel his mouth go dry at the sight, daring himself to move, and when he does? It is all pure instinct. He takes a seat beside her, places one palm over her knee — dangerously close to the lace of her shorts adorned with a little bow at the waist. It is something that can be considered a friendly touch, nothing more and nothing less.

But his brain is whirring with images from his deepest fantasies, each one more depraved than the last when her legs automatically part the slightest bit in response.

[ … ] sharp spots of a kaleidoscopic lights bursting before his eyes, heaven in the shape of her perfect fucking cunt squeezing him tight with each inch that he presses deep inside her. Their lips are pressed together, her face scrunching rather adorably as sobs come spilling straight from her mouth to his—

[ … ] hair bunched between his fingers, his hand nearly engulfing the back of her head from the force of his hold. Each pull makes his bed squeak, the expensive springs making noises in protest from the ferocity of how he loves his sweetheart. His hips snap, delighting in the obscene squelching of her wetness and the copious amounts of cum he pumped into her—

[ … ] a comfortable weight above his lap, her legs spread wide open with the help of his knees so that they can both see the reflection they make in the mirror. His fingers are knuckle-deep inside her folds, skin pruned from how drenched she is. Lips to her ear, filth comes pouring out of his mouth, and he delights in the blush that overtakes her features—

[ … ] weighed down by sleep, she barely stirs when he falls to his knees between her slightly parted legs. His hands spread her open, thumb rubbing soothing circles on her knee. There’s no hesitation in the way his tongue hangs out, a starving dog and nothing more, and presses flat against the honeyed tang of her arousal—

There is no point in speaking, not when that touch is all he does. Sylus does not bring his hand higher, to the heat he can feel emanating from between her legs even this far down.

Anticipation makes everything much sweeter down the line.

Something is definitely wrong with her.

That is the only thing running through her head as she watches Sylus move around his state of the art kitchen with ease to prepare her a meal.

She has been living in his home for nearly a year now, all of her food is prepared by him or bought by his money, everything that touches her skin is paid for by the swipe of his black card that sits heavy in a bag that he bought for her. Everything that she has now all came from Sylus, and something about that makes her head spin with pleasure.

It feels nice to be taken care of like this, to have nothing to worry about.

Her footsteps bring her to the sink, knowing that it is only right that she cleans the dishes considering that he is the one cooking.

Barely even managing to touch the ceramic bowl before a hand immediately wraps around her wrist, halting all of her movements. She has always known that Sylus is big in the very literal sense of the word, he is tall and heavy and bulky, but this is the very first time that she has actually felt so little when compared to him, with his hand dwarfing the circumference of her wrist.

“Sit down,” he murmurs to her temple, pressing a quick kiss there before returning to the stovetop as if nothing happened while she remains frozen for a few more seconds. 

Her heart is pounding, like she just ran a ten-mile marathon, and her legs shake when they bring her to the dining table. There is a haze setting into her brain, like she is floating but not quite. Her eyes remain trained on Sylus as he cooks; back, ramrod straight. She does not even fidget or squirm, does not even try to protest, she just sits.

“Good girl,” he praises with a smile, giving her a bowl of pomegranate seeds drizzled with honey. “The food’s gonna be done in a few.”

A part of her likes this about him, the ease in the way he makes her do things. The fact that he does not need to actively order her to do them before she does. It makes a part of her brain go numb, just hazy in the delight that comes with obeying, and being good for him.

So that is exactly what she does, she eats, spoonful after spoonful. She licks the honey from her lips, and scrapes the bowl when she is nearly done. She makes sure not to leave a single seed behind. Unlike Persephone who only had six months per year, she will be spending all of her time in the Underworld by choice and with no regrets.

Winter can come for the rest of the world and never leave, she does not care. She will stay with him, inside this home that he rearranged just for her — safe and sound, happy and warm.

The meal arrives after the press of lips to her crown, and a part of her just takes great pleasure in being taken care of by him. She does not have to think, to fret, and to stress over even the smallest of things when Sylus is around. When he tugs on her wrist, she goes and sits above his lap. He does not ask, she does not refuse. No words are necessary, not when he takes such great care of her. A tap on her lips with the fork gets them parting, accepting the offering of meat in bite size pieces. A finger on her throat makes her head tilt, taking small gulps of water then wine then water again. 

Dessert is in the form of chocolate-covered strawberries, one that he taps against her bottom lip with hunger in his eyes. She looks up at him, meets his gaze, and bites. Pale red juices come dripping, down her chin to her neck, and even between the swell of her breasts.

Sylus looks at her, eating from his hand, like a man half-starved and half-feral. It is not a bad feeling; in fact, it feels delightful to be wanted in such a way.

Their gazes locked, she lets her tongue dart out to press against the pad of his fingers, tasting both him and the strawberry. It is such a heady combination that it makes her giggle, part-drunkenness from the wine and part-drunkenness from him.

“I really like you,” she murmurs the confession, blunt teeth nipping at his skin. “I really like being with you like this.”

She can see the way his pupils practically dilate upon hearing her words, a shaky exhale coming loose from his throat like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders at the admission. “I really like you too,” he whispers, leaning in close to let his forehead rest on hers.

He does not kiss her, and when night falls, she has to cum several times by humping her pillow — one that he bought for her — before she can admit that she was disappointed.

A part of him knows that he should not be doing this; unfortunately, it just so happens to be a very small one.

Blood rushes even further south, and Sylus can feel himself going dizzy. When he pulls his hips back, there is a very loud squelch that drowns out the sound of her even breathing. His fingers twitch from where they hold her by the waist, resisting the urge to hold her even tighter — he does not want to leave marks, not yet, but his control is a rapidly fraying rope. She is so fucking tight, he thinks, panting like a feral dog that turns to a drawn-out moan when she clenches around him subconsciously.

She was so naive, so willing to trust everything he says. All it took was a few pretty words, a gentle touch here and there, and she was so eager to down the offered glass. A few milligrams of the drug, crushed and mixed into the juice, is enough to knock an average adult for eight to twelve hours. But she has always been smaller than him, more delicate — not that it is even a significant point considering that everyone is smaller than him. It only took thirty minutes before she stumbled on the steps, a few more before she completely dropped faint in his arms. 

It was so easy to lay her on his mattress, where she should have been since the very moment she stepped foot in his home. Perhaps, even way before that. His bed is where she should have been the first time they met, he should have been Troy to this Helen of his, whisked her away to his kingdom at first sight without care for the repercussions.

What was not so easy was stripping her out of the clothes that she bought using his money. It felt like a waste, to not be able to fuck her in things that basically scream of him, but there will always be a next time.

‘And there will be a next time,’ Sylus vows to himself, mouthing the words to the skin of her nape like he wants to imprint the very intent of it into her. He can feel the tightness in his lower abdomen, the warning of an impending climax.

He does not want this to end just yet, not when she feels too good around him. But it is precisely because she feels too good that he feels himself beginning to unravel.

A hand reaches around to rub circles on the throbbing nub, breathing out a hoarse laugh when she squeezes even more around him. Even in her state of unconsciousness, she is too good— too perfect for him, and he loves her all the more for it. The sound of amusement turns into a groan, his hips stuttering in their pace. 

Reluctantly, he pulls away from where he has been slobbering all over the back of her neck to lean backwards and watch how puffy her folds have become.

Sylus is mesmerised, moving his thumb to trace the outline of her pussy wrapped snugly around his cock. There is already a frothy ring around the base of his girth, and he wants to make her into an even bigger mess. He needs her filled with him, leaking of him. ‘Maybe it will get her with a baby,’ he thinks with grim pleasure, eyes alight at the thought of seeing her womb swell with his seed taking root.

She is so sweet, so delicate. Someone like her will always try and refuse him, out of some misplaced sense of independence — damn, he needs to fuck that thought right of her head soon. This is where she belongs, in his house, in his bed, with her cunt wrapped around his cock. Having a baby with him will break her, but only just a bit, Sylus will never let her be completely broken by his hand. Just enough to make her malleable, to keep her with him forever.

She is so good like that, so perfect for him.

His pace quickens, almost frantically. It is of no surprise how quickly he finishes, he holds on to her tight and brings her close as he pumps her full, hissing under his breath at the intoxicating heat.

Unaware of the fluttering lashes that roll in the back of her skull and the grin she hides on the pillow, still pretending to be asleep on her stomach.

Like calls to like after all, and too much time spent in his company has made her all the more similar to Sylus to the point where even their schemes have begun to synchronise, striving for the same goal.

Not that he is aware of how much she knows.

How much she wants.

© skyizhou ( 2024 ): do not claim, modify, copy or repost my works without permission. minors do not interact.

[waywardxrhea]

Only You - Steve Rogers

pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!Mutant!reader (no use of y/n, no details of powers mentioned)

Solo training with Steve unexpectantly leads to something more.

word count: 4,759

content: two idiots in love, combat training, language, fluff, SMUT! 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! warnings below the cut!

smut warnings: strong sexual tension, public makeout session, steamy shower together, grinding, fingering, praise kink, Steve is a consent king, unprotected PIV sex (birth control mentioned), creampie, small amount of blood mentioned (because let's face it, Steve's hung lmao)

The last few months had turned your life as you knew it in a totally new direction. Before, you were working the streets of the Bronx as a vigilante with the powers you had been born with, hiding your identity behind whatever piece of clothing or accessory you were able to. Sure, the Avengers being around lessened the stigma surrounding mutants such as yourself, but there were still people who thought of you as unnatural. So, you stuck to working at night, keeping to the shadows and stopping criminals in their tracks with displays of power that kept the news and social media buzzing about who could be behind the mask. That was until one day you heard a knock on your door and came face to face with Maria Hill. How she figured out your identity was beyond you, but after hearing her proposition out, it was hard to say no to joining the new Avengers team. 

It wasn’t long before you found yourself training with the likes of the Natasha Romanoff and Steve Rogers, both of whom helped you refine your hand to hand combat style. You also trained a lot with Wanda, both of you learning to use your powers to work in tandem with the rest of the team. Vision and Rhodey knew how to keep you on your toes with their knack for battle tactics, and Sam had figured out how to push you to your limits in order to become the best you could be. 

During this time, you had started to grow fond of Steve, and apparently it was quite obvious to the others. When the team would get together for training sessions, you and Steve would end up paired together, and it always ended with snide remarks from the others as they tried to push the two of you together. Steve was super apologetic about their comments, and shut them down quickly when they started to become sexual, so you assumed that he simply didn’t see you that way. It hurt, but you knew that you needed to keep things professional, especially if he didn’t see you in the same way. 

Eventually, both you and Steve began to get worn out by the comments, so the two of you decided to spend some of your mornings training together one-on-one in order to avoid the distraction. One morning Steve woke up and made his way to your little apartment in the compound, knocking on the door gently when he got there. He waited politely for a minute or so for you to answer before pulling his phone out from his pocket to call you. 

When you heard the ringing of your phone, you rolled over in your bed as you felt around for the device on the nightstand. "Five more minutes?" you asked when you hit answer, the sound muffled slightly by your pillow. 

Steve chuckled as he said, "Those five minutes could potentially cost you your life. You said it yourself, you wanted to train more so you can be up to par with the rest of us."

You sighed, but started to get out of bed slowly, asking, "Can I have a couple minutes to get ready?"

"That you can," Steve replied.

A lazy smile made its way onto your face as you rubbed your eyes and got out from under the covers. You worked quickly to get ready, changing out of your pjs and into workout clothes before making your hair presentable and brushing your teeth, putting on deodorant last. These training sessions were something you very much looked forward to, so you didn’t want to waste any time. When you were done getting ready, you grabbed your phone off the charger on your night stand and made your way to the door of your apartment, asking, “You ready?” as you met Steve in the hall. 

“Let’s go,” he agreed as the both of you started walking toward the training area. The air was filled with mostly silence on the way, but it was broken by Steve telling you, “You know, I like doing this in the mornings, just us.”

“Oh yeah?” you asked, your heart skipping a beat as you did. 

“Yeah. I like spending time with you,” he said. A boyish grin made its way onto his lips as he added, “And if it means kicking your ass in combat training, that’s even better.”

“Ha, ha, very funny,” you said with a playful roll of your eyes as the two of you entered the gym where you began connecting your phone to the speakers. After finishing with that, you began jogging in place while asking Steve, "Ready to get your ass kicked, old man?"

“In your dreams!” Steve replied with a laugh. “I did wake you up early today though, so maybe I’ll go easy on you.”

"Why, thank you," you said with a sweet smile as the two of you began the workout. 

After a solid hour of weight training and cardio, Steve informed you that it was time for combat. You leaned against the wall, out of breath, as you said, "Okay, give me, like, two seconds to recover, Mr. Super Soldier."

Slipping into Captain mode, Steve told you, "In a battle you won't have two seconds to recover before an enemy attacks again."

Nodding, you took one last deep breath as you said, "That's fair.” You pushed off of the wall and said, “Okay, I'm ready. What move are we working on today?"

"Taking someone down from behind. You've gotten good at defensive moves if someone already has you pinned, but you need more work on your offensive moves. I've noticed that in training and on the missions we've been on together, you rely on your powers a lot for offense. You won't always be able to use them, so you need to know how to effectively get the jump on an opponent without them."

"Got it. Where do we start?" you asked. When you first started training with the Avengers, you learned quickly that using your abilities wasn’t always in the cards, especially against a quick hand-to-hand opponent such as Steve or Nat. And because of that, you had started to learn to fight without them. 

For the training, Steve walked you through multiple exercises for a little while before you started to get a grasp on them. "Okay, now that you've got those down, let's combine what you just learned with what you already know. Are you ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," you replied with a nod. Your body was exhausted from the training, but you knew you couldn’t give up so close to the end of the session. You had to keep pushing, no matter how much your muscles were screaming at you to stop. 

So, you and Steve squared off for a few minutes, taking it easy before Steve kicked it up a notch. You dodged his punches skillfully, and turned on the offensive moves you learned in return when he backed down. When you blanked on one of the new moves Steve had taught you though, he took that as an opportunity to grab your arms from behind. Instinctively, you dove into a move Natasha had taught you to get out of Steve's grasp. Planting your right foot between Steve's feet and spinning your body into his, you were able to knock him off balance! While he was off his balance, you reached down and took a leg out from under him, sending him straight to the floor!

When you successfully got him there, you straddled Steve's body and pinned his arms to the mat as you smirked. "Gotcha," you said, a slight breathlessness to your tone. Both of your chests heaved from the need for oxygen, and your hearts raced due to the closeness of your bodies. Everything seemed to slow down as you gazed into Steve’s eyes. There was a fondness that filled them as he looked back at you with adoration, and as you got lost in that look, the grip you had on him loosened. 

"That was great, but there's just one thing," Steve said, breathlessly. Your eyebrows scrunched together in confusion when he said this, and he took the moment to effortlessly flip you over onto the mat and pin you himself. “You’re distracted,” he finished, his body impossibly close to yours as he did. 

As the two of you gazed into each other’s eyes, many thoughts ran through each of your minds, but they all ended in the same conclusion. These fantasies were dizzying, and that combined with the last two hours worth of training, you felt like the room was spinning around you, so much so that you didn’t realize that Steve was leaning in to close the small gap between your lips. When he did, your eyes closed in an instant as you sank into it, warm and soft and everything you ever imagined it would be to kiss Steve. 

You smiled into the kiss, and a pleased hum rumbled out of your chest as you wiggled one arm out of Steve’s grip to run your fingers through his blond locks. With your fingers locked into his hair, Steve deepened the kiss, a certain urgency behind his actions as he gave into his desire for you, letting his body take over and do what he had been dreaming about for weeks. 

The kiss quickly turned heated as the two of you melted into each other, teeth and tongues getting involved as you both chased after what you craved from one another. You hadn’t realized just how turned on the now steamy makeout session had gotten you, until Steve’s hardened member brushed over your core and you let an involuntary moan loose onto his lips. This seemed to kick you both back into reality, and you both realized where you were and the situation you were in, with cameras posted in the corners, and the doors unlocked where anyone could walk in any second. 

A sense of panic filled you both at the sudden realization, and you quickly separated, chests heaving in time with one another as you both sat on the floor across from one another. “I sh- We- I’m-” Steve started to say, a sense of embarrassment flooding his body as his mind processed everything. He was your Captain. Your leader. He shouldn’t be taking advantage of you like this. He should have asked permission to kiss you. He-

“Come back to my place,” you said in a moment of boldness, your mind and body reeling from the heated makeout session. You weren’t usually so straight forward with things like this, but all subtlety went out the window when Steve kissed you like that. You wanted more. You needed more. 

So did Steve. So, with a smile on his swollen lips, he nodded, telling you, “Lead the way.”

The two of you made it back to your little apartment in record time, and when the door closed, Steve immediately had you pinned to it as his lips reconnected with yours. When Steve’s hands started wandering under your tank top, you realized just how sweaty you were from the training session, and it made you suddenly insecure. If this was going where you hoped it was, you didn’t want your first time with Steve to start with you as a sweaty mess. 

Steve noticed that you had suddenly stopped kissing him back as passionately, so he pulled away for a moment to rest his forehead on yours as he said, “Everything okay? I-I don’t want you to feel like I’m taking advantage of you.”

“No, no! You’re not!” you told him quickly, shutting down the idea nearly as fast as it left his mouth. You felt your cheeks flush as you mumbled, “I just feel gross being all sweaty after that workout is all…” There was a beat of silence before you asked bashfully, “Join me in the shower?”

“I would love that,” Steve said, eyes closing for a moment as he thanked his lucky stars for this moment. 

Taking Steve’s hand, you guided him to the bathroom that was connected to your bedroom, a giddy laugh leaving your chest as you did. When the two of you got into the bathroom, you wrapped Steve in one more embrace as you kissed his lips, unable to get enough of him. As you did, his hands wandered once more under your tank top, sending shivers up your spine as he gripped the fabric and began to gently tug it upward. This signalled you to break the kiss reluctantly in order for the both of you to start stripping to get into the shower. 

When you were both out of your clothes, you stepped into the large shower and adjusted the water to a suitable temperature before stepping under the stream and gesturing for Steve to step in too. He pulled you in for a sweet, yet brief kiss before you reached for one of your more neutral smelling soaps to use on him. Standing behind Steve, you lathered some of the soap on your hands before you began running your hands over his back in long, languid strokes. You could practically feel the tension in his muscles melting away as you massaged at his shoulders before running your soapy hands down his muscular arms, his inadvertent flex not going unnoticed by you. 

After finishing with his back and arms, you gently spun him around and shared a loving gaze for a moment before you gathered more soap in your hands to work on his front half. You started with his chest, fingers running through the hair he had there before moving lower, your fingers gliding over his chiseled abdominal muscles. While you worked him over like this for a few moments, his head lulled back in bliss. He had never felt more relaxed than in this moment with you. What had started as a heated moment had turned into something much more, and it made his heart soar to know that he had you taking such care of him in that moment. He knew that he had to do the same for you. 

Opening his eyes to look at the array of scents in front of him, Steve ended up choosing the one he liked the most on you, taking a handful of it and lathering it together in his hands before beginning to run them along your back in small, soothing circles. Steve’s hands moved to your waist and hips next, his heart rate picking up as he got closer to touching you in such an intimate way. Seeming to sense his hesitation, you leaned in for a kiss, and that was all Steve needed to bring his hands just that much lower, running over the curve of your ass before giving it a gentle squeeze. 

An almost imperceptible sigh escaped you when he did this, and it only emboldened Steve further as pleasure sparked through his body once again. Turning you around so your back was to him, Steve placed a kiss to your shoulder before he began massaging soap onto them, the gesture making a small groan of pleasure slip past your lips. The workout had taken a lot out of you, and your muscles were killing you, so Steve’s large and skilled hands felt like absolute heaven. 

You got so lost in the feeling of Steve’s hands that you didn’t even realize when they moved from your shoulders around to your stomach before moving up to caress your breasts. Blood rushed south as Steve’s hands began lathering soap onto your chest, his fingers slipping over your nipples being the single most pleasurable feeling you had experienced in a while. Your heart pounded in your chest as you relaxed into Steve’s body, quiet whimpers leaving your throat as he tweaked the sensitive buds that had hardened under his ministrations. 

They weren’t the only things that had hardened as Steve pleasured you, though. As you leaned into Steve’s solid form, you felt his impressive length pressed against your backside, warm and velvety smooth as he pressed his hips firmly into you. His lips met the space right below your ear, where he kissed you softly as one of his wandering hands inched down your stomach and to the top of your thigh. His fingers lingered where they were for a moment, merely caressing your thigh as Steve’s deep voice rumbled out, “May I?”

Your breath caught in your throat for a moment as you nodded fervently, a breathy, “Y-yes, please,” leaving your mouth as your heart pounded in your chest in anticipation. 

Within moments, one of Steve’s fingers had found your most sensitive bundle of nerves, and you let out a quiet moan as he began gently massaging it. The feeling of how wet you were caused Steve to rut his hips into your backside, his desire to have you then and there nearly outweighing the need to prepare you to take him. As you ground your hips back into his, Steve chuckled before asking, “That feel good?” applying more pressure on your clit as he did, the action causing a whimper to escape you once more. 

“God, yes,” you sighed, your head lulling back onto Steve as pleasure steadily built deep in your core. 

“Here, follow me,” Steve said as he pulled his hand away for a moment, leading you toward the marble shower bench sitting opposite the showerhead. 

Steve sat down first, angling himself into the corner and putting one leg up onto the bench while pulling you down to sit between his thighs. He let out a low groan as you adjusted yourself into a comfortable position, your back rubbing against his now throbbing cock. Once you were settled, Steve wasted no time going straight back to massaging your clit for a moment before running his fingers through your slick folds, teasing your entrance. The teasing didn’t last too long, though, and before you knew it, Steve plunged a digit into your core, pulling a deep moan out of you as his long fingers reached that spongy spot inside your walls within a few seconds. The continuous stimulation of the spot turned you into a squirming mess, moaning wantonly as the pleasure continued to mount within your core. 

Without a warning, Steve slipped another finger into the mix, his other hand moving down from your breast to your clit as he continued his ministrations. It took you a few moments to accommodate for the stretch, but once you did, you began teetering on the edge of your orgasm as Steve’s skilled fingers pumped into you, twice the amount of stimulation sending you barrelling toward your end. A few seconds later, the coil in your abdomen snapped, and your back arched as pleasure sparked through your whole body, your hips twitching uncontrollably as your orgasm washed over you. With his fingers still working inside of you, Steve held down your hips with his other hand as he kissed along your neck, mumbling things like, “That’s it,” “I’ve got you,” and “Good girl,” the last one causing a loud moan to slip past your lips and make Steve chuckle. 

Once Steve had removed his fingers from your core and you had regained your senses, he moved to stand the two of you up and under the shower water once more. With the suds from the soap thoroughly rinsed away, Steve turned off the shower before pulling you into another kiss. You giggled into this one before pulling away and grabbed both of you towels to dry off. 

After you finished drying off, you leaned into Steve for a kiss, your hand ghosting over his hard cock as you did. “I think we should do something about this not so little problem, don’t you?” you asked with a quiet laugh as Steve let out a pleasure-filled sigh. 

“What did you have in mind?” Steve asked, not wanting to overstep his bounds. He wanted to leave the next step up to you, without his influence. 

“How about you and me in my bed?” you asked in a sultry voice. You leaned in close to his ear and nipped at his ear lobe before whispering, “I wanna feel you. Fill me up and ruin me. I only want you.”

This response nearly made Steve lose it then and there. His body began taking over when you said that, and rather than responding verbally, Steve picked you up and began carrying you back into your room, his lips locked on yours as he did. The confirmation that you wanted exactly what he did, and that you felt the way he did, made his heart soar, and he knew that he was going to make this special for you. For both of you. 

After tossing you gently onto the mattress, Steve made his way back to your lips, hovering over you as he kissed you with more gentleness than before. One of your hands rested on Steve’s huge bicep while the other snaked back behind his head and ran through his damp hair as he pulled away from your lips and trailed kisses over your jaw. “Are you sure about this?” he mumbled against your skin. 

“One hundred percent,” you promised, a pleased hum leaving your throat as he kissed your neck. 

“Okay,” he said, a bright smile on his lips once again as he grabbed his sensitive cock and began running it through your soaked folds. 

“Oh…! P-please…” you whispered as you felt his blunt head getting close to your entrance, but never quite pushing in. The need to have him inside of you was eating you alive, and the relentless teasing was doing nothing to help. Hoping that it would push him along, you wrapped your legs around his waist and rutted your hips into his. 

In response to your actions, Steve finally lined himself up and pushed in, the feeling of you enveloping him overwhelming in the best way. He was knocked out of the pleasure clouding his mind though when he heard you take in a sharp breath, your face scrunched up a little in pain as he pushed in. Seeing the look, he paused his movement, asking, “You okay?”

“Y-yeah, I just need a second to adjust, is all,” you replied, slightly intimidated by his size. Now you understood why he needed to prepare you in the shower…

“Tell me when I can move,” Steve replied, not wanting to hurt you. “Just relax, you’re doing so well,” he mumbled into the skin of your neck, massaging your hip as he did. The praise sent more blood rushing south that seemed to relax you some, and a few more moments passed before you finally nodded. When you did, Steve made gentle and small thrusts in and out as he pushed further into your warmth until he was fully sheathed inside of you, burying his face into your neck as he whispered, “Oh, fuck…” 

A quiet whimper left your lips before you gently pushed your heels into Steve’s back, silently telling him to move. So he did, his thrusts still small and gentle at first before turning to long and languid strokes, hitting all the right places as he pushed in and out of you. The pleasure was all consuming, and sinful noises began falling out of you like water from a leaking faucet. These sounds made Steve pick up his pace as he chased his own pleasure while listening to the beautiful noises he was dragging out of you. 

The combination of your warmth around him and the sounds of pleasure leaving you brought Steve close to the edge after a little while of bliss, and his thrusts began to become erratic as the pleasure built along his spine. “Shit, shit, shit, I’m close! Where-?” Steve rushed out as he felt his balls begin to tighten, his orgasm only moments away. 

“Inside! Inside! P-please! I-I’m on the pill!” you breathed, craving the warmth of being filled in the most intimate way by Steve. 

Another, deeper, “Fuck!” slipped past Steve’s lips as he buried himself to the hilt when his orgasm took over his body, his pleasure spilling onto your contracting walls as your own orgasm suddenly overtook you as you felt his warmth spurting into you. Steve rocked his hips into yours a few more times as he placed sloppy kisses all over your neck before he collapsed on top of you, your heaving chests moving in chaotic synchrony with one another. 

When you finally gathered your bearings, you couldn’t help but laugh quietly as you mumbled, “The mouth on you… And here I was under the impression that you don’t curse.”

“Well, when the circumstances warrant…” Steve replied, a sheepish chuckle falling from his lips as he rolled off of you, pulling out as he did. When he sat up a bit to adjust himself on the bed, he spotted a bit of red combined with his release, and his eyes widened as he quickly asked, “Did I hurt you?”

Unaware of what Steve had seen, you were confused for a moment as you replied, “Other than the initial sting, no. Everything okay?”

“You’re bleeding. I’m sorry, I-” he started to say remorsefully before you pulled him down and into a gentle kiss to shut him up. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. You just hit my cervix. Or, at least, that’s what I’ve been told.” You let out a sheepish laugh before admitting, “This hasn’t exactly happened to me before… You’re definitely the biggest I’ve been with…”

After saying this, you began to sit up, but this time, it was your turn to be shut down with a kiss. As he kissed you, Steve eased you back down into the pillow before pulling away and telling you, “Stay here, I’ll clean you up.”

It wasn’t more than a minute before Steve came back with a warm wash cloth that he gently pressed to your sensitive folds as he cleaned you up from his mess. You cringed at the initial touch, the stretch of Steve’s member was more than you anticipated, and you just knew you would be feeling it later… You were broken away from your thoughts when you heard Steve’s soft voice ask, “Was that all okay?”

“It was all perfect,” you assured him, sealing the statement with a quick peck to his lips as he tossed the cloth back in the direction of the bathroom. 

“Just like you,” he flirted, the smile evident in his voice as he uttered the words. 

When you got a good look at him after he said this, you saw a dusting of pink on his cheeks, and you laughed as you said, “You just gave me the most pleasurable sex I’ve had in my life, don’t go getting shy on me now!”

“Hard not to when feelings as strong as mine are for you are involved…” he confessed, pulling you into his strong embrace. 

“Well, then good thing I have just as strong feelings for you…” you told him, heat now creeping onto your cheeks as you cuddled into his chest. 

“I’m happy to hear that,” he said, the deep timbre of his voice resonating in your ear and making you feel so safe in his embrace. You heard his heart rate spike for a moment before saying, “Well, how ‘bout we do this the right way now, and I take you on a date tonight?” 

“I would love that,” you replied, smiling all the while. 

And so, that evening you and Steve went on a date you could only describe as magical. He pulled out all the stops, from showing up with flowers to opening doors for you, to a very nice dinner, before going to a nearby park for a sunset stroll. By the end of the night, you both ended up in his bed with him somehow outdoing himself from earlier! He had lined the room with rose petals and had little tea light candles to set the mood. He knew your muscles were sore from training that afternoon, so he started off with a massage that turned heated the second he dragged a sinful moan from your lips. As the night drew to a close, you both knew that there would be relentless teasing coming from the others from then on, but Steve had asked you to officially be his girlfriend, and you couldn’t be happier.

a/n: well, that was super unhinged and horny, whoops! i just got into a Steve Rogers mood and had to get this out of my system! portions of this one shot are directly from my Captain America Professional Best Friend fic, i just changed it a lot in order to fit this narrative. this sorta started as an AU, but then turned into its own thing, whoops lol i had a blast writing this, and hope you had the same fun reading it ;)

anyways, likes and comments are appreciated! xo, brooke <3

[greengoblinswifey]

Fool Me Once—Nicholas Chavez x Fem!Reader

summary— your celebrity crush Nicholas Chavez asks you out and it’s a dream come true until his true colors are shown and you’re chastised publicly for his lies. based on this request.

warnings— mentions of sex, angst, infidelity, fluff.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

You never imagined Nicholas Chavez, the Nicholas Chavez, would ever know you existed. Sure, you had a small but loyal social media following, mostly due to your love of photography and quirky posts. And, like half the internet, you reposted pictures of Nicholas with dreamy captions or funny memes. He was your ultimate celebrity crush—the talented actor, the man with a smile that could melt steel, and, let’s be honest, unfairly hot.

So, when a notification popped up on your phone one evening that read, Nicholas Alexander Chavez liked your photo, you assumed it had to be a fan account or some fluke. But when you clicked on it, you saw the blue checkmark and his profile staring back at you. You froze, your heart pounding in disbelief. Then, as if that weren’t shocking enough, another notification followed.

Nicholas Alexander Chavez: “You’re absolutely beautiful. I’m in your city for a few days, would you let me take you out?”

Your jaw practically hit the floor. For a second, you thought it might be a prank. But after checking and rechecking his profile and the message, you realized it was real. Nicholas Chavez, your crush—wanted to take you out.

You barely managed to type back, your fingers shaking as you replied, “I’d love to. When?”

The day of the date arrived faster than you could mentally prepare yourself. You spent hours deciding on an outfit, wondering what to say, and convincing yourself not to hyperventilate. But all your nerves evaporated the moment he showed up at your door, holding a stunning bouquet of flowers.

He smiled, his eyes warm and inviting, and said, “These are for you.” Then, leaning in slightly, he asked, “Can I kiss you?”

You nodded, stunned and unable to form words, and he kissed you softly, his hand brushing your cheek. “You’re even more beautiful in person,” he murmured, and you felt like you might actually combust on the spot.

You invited him inside, placing the flowers in water while trying not to let him notice how giddy you were. He looked effortlessly handsome in a simple button-up and pants, and his calm demeanor somehow helped you relax. Soon, you were in his car, heading to a chic restaurant.

At dinner, you couldn’t help but feel shy. After all, this was your crush. But Nicholas had an easy way about him, asking about your life and interests, laughing at your jokes, and opening up about his own.

“You’re a photographer?” he asked, his eyes lighting up. “That’s really cool. What kind of photos do you like to take?”

You explained your love for capturing candid moments and shared a few funny stories about your shoots. He listened intently, nodding and asking questions, making you feel like the most important person in the room.

Eventually, you couldn’t ignore the nagging question in your mind. “So, um—what happened with your girlfriend?”

He tilted his head, his expression softening. “We broke up a few days ago. It just wasn’t working out.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you said, feeling a bit awkward for bringing it up.

“Don’t be,” he said, reaching across the table to brush his fingers against yours. “Forget about her. Tonight, I’m focused on you.”

The flirty comment sent a thrill down your spine, and the rest of the evening passed in a blur of laughter and connection.

Back at your apartment, things escalated quickly. As soon as you unlocked the door, Nicholas pressed you against it, his lips finding yours in a heated kiss. His hands explored your waist as he murmured, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

You barely managed to breathe out a response before he kissed you again, his intensity making your head spin.

Somehow, you ended up in the kitchen, and Nicholas grabbed a rose from the bouquet, twirling it between his fingers with a playful grin. “You’re incredible,” he said, brushing the petals along your collarbone before leading you to your bedroom.

There, the mood turned playful and intimate. Nicholas placed the rose in his mouth smiling that beautiful grin that made you melt saying, “Kiss me.”

You laughed, snapping a picture on your phone. “You’re ridiculous,” you said, but you leaned in anyway, pressing your lips to his.

The night was a filled with lust passion, the two of you tangled in each other as though the world outside didn’t exist.

“You’re so deep,” you cried, your hands on his chest as he pounded into you.

“I know baby, take it for me, take my cock,” Nicholas breathed.

He had your legs shaking the entire night, coaxing multiple orgasms and screams out of you. You were in cloud nine.

The next morning, you woke up to the smell of breakfast. Wrapping a blanket around yourself, you wandered into the kitchen to find Nicholas at the stove, wearing only sweatpants and a smile.

“Morning,” he said, turning to kiss your forehead. “Thought I’d make you something before I head out.”

You watched him, your heart full. It all felt too good to be true.

While he cooked, you posted a photo dump on Instagram, including the silly picture of him with the rose and another ood you holding hands. The likes and comments rolled in almost immediately, some gushing about how cute it was and others speculating about his ex. But you didn’t care. For once, the attention felt exciting.

For the next week while he was in your city, Nicholas made you feel like the only woman in the world. He took you on dates, surprised you with thoughtful gestures, and made every moment unforgettable. The chemistry between you was unfathomable, and the connection went beyond just physical.

But when the week ended, he had to leave. “I’ll be back,” he promised, kissing you goodbye. “And I’ll talk to you everyday.”

You believed him. But hours turned into days, and his messages became less frequent until they stopped altogether.

It had only been a few days since Nicholas left, and already, the silence was deafening. You kept checking your phone, hoping for a message or even a quick reply to your last text. Nothing. It was like he had vanished. You tried to reason with yourself—maybe he was busy, tied up with meetings and interviews. But doubt crept in. Had he forgotten about you already?

Then you saw it.

A photo popped up on your Instagram feed, shared by both Nicholas and his ex—or, as it seemed now, his girlfriend. They were smiling, her head resting on his shoulder, and the caption read, “Through ups and downs, love always wins.”

Your stomach dropped. The world blurred around you as the realization hit like a train. Hurt. Anger. Confusion. All at once.

How could he? You’d believed him when he said they’d broken up, that he was focused on you. But now, it seemed like everything he’d said, everything he’d done, had been a lie.

As if the betrayal wasn’t enough, the hate started rolling in.

Your social media exploded with comments from strangers. People flooded the photo dump you’d posted of your time with Nicholas, zeroing in on the candid shot of him holding the rose in his mouth and the picture of your intertwined hands.

“Slut.”

“Homewrecker.”

“She really thought she could break them up? Pathetic.”

“Delete these photos. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

They didn’t know the truth. They didn’t know that he had reached out to you, that he had said the relationship was over. But the facts didn’t matter. His girlfriend’s fans had decided you were the villain in their love story, and they were relentless.

You tried to ignore it, but the constant barrage of hateful comments across your posts and DMs was too much. Finally, snapping a photo of the now-wilted flowers Nicholas had given you, you posted it with the caption:

“All because I liked a boy.”

Even before you turned off the comments, the hate poured in. “You should have stayed in your lane.” “He was never yours.” “Hope you’re happy ruining yourself over him.”

You couldn’t take it anymore. Your hands trembled as you scrolled to Nicholas’ number and called him. No answer. You tried again. Nothing.

Frustrated, you texted him.

You: The fuck is going on, Nicholas? Explain yourself .

He responded almost instantly.

Nicholas: Hey, it’s not what it looks like.

You: Talk now. I’m not playing games.

Nicholas: Look, I didn’t think it would blow up like this. The thing with me and her, it’s complicated.

Your blood boiled.

You: Complicated? Are you serious? You told me you two broke up. You showed up at my door with flowers, telling me you were focused on me. Now I’m being called a homewrecker and a SLUT because you can’t keep your story straight?

Nicholas: It’s not like that. I didn’t lie to you. We were on a break, but things changed. I didn’t plan for this to happen.

You: Didn’t plan for what? To get back together with her? To use me as your rebound? Do you have any idea what I’m dealing with right now because of you?

Nicholas: I didn’t mean for you to get dragged into this. I’m sorry if people are being harsh, but you don’t have to engage with them.

You stared at his response, dumbfounded. If people were being harsh? He didn’t even acknowledge his role in this mess.

You: Oh, I’m sorry. Should I just sit here quietly while people tear me apart for your lies? You’re unbelievable.

Nicholas: Look, I don’t know what else to say. I didn’t do anything wrong.

You laughed bitterly at his audacity.

You: You didn’t do anything wrong? You lied to me, Nicholas. You lied about her, about us, and now I’m the one paying for it. But sure, you did nothing wrong.

Nicholas: I didn’t force you to post anything. You knew the risks.

Your jaw clenched, fury overtaking you.

You: Are you fucking kidding me? You pursued me. You made me believe you actually cared. And now, when everything’s blowing up, you’re just washing your hands of it? Unbelievable.

Nicholas: I’m sorry you’re upset. But I can’t change what’s already happened.

That was the last straw. You tossed your phone onto the couch, shaking with rage. His dismissive tone, his refusal to take responsibility, it was infuriating.

You spent the rest of the evening trying to calm yourself, but the anger and hurt lingered. The flowers sat on your counter, now wilted and brown, a bitter reminder of what could have been. You thought back to the moments you shared, the laughs, the touches, the promises he made. They felt tainted now, like a cruel joke.

The hate persisted, but you refused to let it consume you. You weren’t the villain here, no matter what people said. Nicholas had made his choice, and you were done being collateral damage.

As for him? You hoped one day he’d realize the gravity of what he’d done and he would suffer.

The days following the fallout were a blur of anger and exhaustion. You kept your phone on silent to avoid the constant notifications, but a ping from a verified account caught your eye. It was a message from Nicholas’s girlfriend.

“Hi,” it read. “I know things have been messy, but I really need to get your side of the story. I’m starting to think Nicholas hasn’t been honest with me, and it’s important I hear everything. I’ll be flying into your city tomorrow. Can we meet at that new restaurant downtown at 1 PM?”

You hesitated, your finger hovering over the reply button. On one hand, you wanted nothing to do with her after her fans had dragged your name through the mud. On the other, you knew she deserved the truth. After a moment, you typed.

“Fine. I’ll be there.”

The next day, you arrived at the restaurant five minutes early, scanning the room nervously. When she walked in, you felt your breath hitch. Nicholas definitely had a type. Her deep brown skin glowed, and her braids cascaded down her back like a waterfall. She was stunning, even more so in person, and it made you wonder how Nicholas could ever risk losing someone like her.

She smiled tightly and slid into the seat across from you. “Thank you for meeting me,” she said. “I know this isn’t easy, but I really need to know what happened.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath before you began. “Nicholas reached out to me first,” you said. “He told me you two had broken up. He said he was ready to move on and focus on on me.

Her brows furrowed. “He said that?”

You nodded. “He showed up at my door with flowers. We didn’t even take things slow. He spent the night. The next morning, he made me breakfast.” You paused, gauging her reaction. “I had no idea you were still together. I would never have gotten involved if I’d known.”

She leaned back in her seat, her expression a mix of hurt and anger. “That’s not what he told me,” she said, her voice trembling. “He told me he was visiting friends here and handling acting stuff. He said it’d be better for me to stay home and rest. And when I saw the photos of you two, he said you were just some crazy fan. That you asked him to hold your hand and begged for the photos, and he only did it because he didn’t want to seem rude.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “That’s bullshit. I didn’t beg him for anything. He was the one pursuing me. He was more than willing to take those photos, and he wasn’t exactly shy about getting close. He fucked me, and he made breakfast like it was the start of something real.”

Her face crumpled, and for a moment, you felt a pang of guilt. This wasn’t your fault, but seeing her pain made you wish things had gone differently.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “You didn’t deserve any of this—the lies, the hate. And I had no idea my fans were being so vicious. That’s not who I am, I swear. I’m a feminist. I would never want another woman to be treated like this, especially because of a man.”

You placed a hand on hers across the table. “Thank you for saying that. And for coming here to get the truth. You deserve better than him.”

She gave a small, watery smile. “So do you.”

Then, as if struck by an idea, she pulled out her phone. “You know what? Let’s turn this around. Nicholas has no idea I’m here, and I want him to know we’ve got each other’s backs.”

Before you could respond, she snapped a candid photo of the two of you laughing, her arm draped casually over your shoulder. She typed a caption, her fingers flying across the screen. A few seconds later, she showed it to you.

“When he fumbles not just one, but two baddies. #WeDeserveBetter”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “I love it.”

By the time you got home, the internet was ablaze. The hate had turned into apologies, with people flooding your DMs to express their regret. “I’m so sorry for judging you.” “I was wrong to attack you.” “You’re so beautiful!” “Nicholas has a type.”

Nicholas, however, wasn’t taking it well. He texted you within minutes of the post being up.

Nicholas: What the hell is this? Why are you teaming up with her to turn her against me?

You: She deserved to know the truth. You did this to yourself.

Nicholas: I didn’t do anything wrong! You’re twisting things and making me look bad. You’re crazy and a liar.

You rolled your eyes and took a screenshot of the conversation. Without hesitation, you posted it to your story with the caption: “Men will manipulate and gaslight you, then call you crazy when it doesn’t work. Stay safe out there.”

The backlash against him was immediate. People dragged him across all platforms, calling him out for his lies and manipulation.

You blocked him after that, finally cutting him out of your life for good.

In the weeks that followed, you poured yourself into your photography, using the newfound attention and followers to showcase your work. Brands reached out for collaborations, and your career began to flourish in ways you hadn’t imagined.

Though the experience had been painful, it had also been empowering. You’d stood your ground, found an unlikely ally, and reclaimed your narrative. And as for Nicholas? He was left scrambling, a dumbfounded shell of the man who thought he could play you both.

[stanart4clearskin]

stalker! art x reader

when art first saw you, it was at the freshman year orientation at stanford. he had been talking to a few of his tennis teammates when you had walked up to one of the guys to ask him a question

from then on art was captivated by you. art admired you from afar because he could never find the right opportunity to approach you because you didn't know each other

he thought you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. he didn't know what it was but there was just something about you that captivated him

art had mentioned you to patrick when he came to visit stanford and much to his disappointment, patrick didn't see you the way that he did. patrick thought you were decently cute but he couldn't understand why art was always drooling over your instagram photos

his stalker behavior had started out innocently. he would just visit your instagram page to stare at the photos you had posted of yourself. this had gone on for a few weeks until art had gotten tired of looking at the same three pictures every day and searched online to see if you had any other social medias

art couldn't find any other online platforms that you were on so he opted to walk by the tennis courts whenever you had practice

honestly that was probably the worst mistake art could've made because seeing your sweaty skin glistening in the sun made him a little dizzy and left him with a boner that he had to cover by awkwardly grabbing his crotch as he rushed back to his dorm

everyday like clockwork he would casually walk by the courts and would secretly snap photos of you so that he had some pictures to look at. sometimes he would strike up conversation with a few of your teammates that he knew

eventually this ended up into art finally having a conversation with you for the first time. art thought he might pass out as you laughed at his stupid jokes but he managed to keep calm until you left and to his luck you accidentally left your sweatshirt

he grabbed it with full intent to return it to you but he could smell you on the jacket so instead he found himself shoving his face into it as he jerked off to the thought of you

from then on he was determined to at least becomes friends with you so he found out what parties you were going to and he made sure he also went to those ones

he would stand with his friends drinking by most of the time his eyes were on you as you stood with your friends drinking

at one point he managed to nick your phone while you weren’t paying attention and he watched at you panicked and frantically asked around if anyone had seen it

after letting you freak out for five minutes he swooped in to help you look and magically managed to find your phone

from then on art had a habit of stealing your things just to help you go look for them because he realized how much you started to like him because he always found your missing items

[patscorner]

kate fic idea ! okay so you and kate have been best friends since you can remember, but something happens around third grade were you had to move away. a few years later (towards college or so) you guys reconnect (bc yall decided to apply to the same college) then it ends up on them going on a date and kissing 🙏🏽

will do! 🫡

ALL OF THE ABOVE

Summary: You and Kate grew up together, but when you move across the country, you lose contact with her forever. Or so you think.

wc: 2,339 (she's a long one, buckle up folks)

Contains: mentions of alcohol, nothing...?

______________________________

For as long as you can remember, you have always had a best friend. Whether it was your first imaginary friend, your dog, or your brother. One of the most memorable of them all, though, was a short, dirty blonde girl in your third grade.

Kate was assigned as your table partner in art. Even as an eight-year-old, you knew she was the prettiest girl you’d ever laid eyes on. You both instantly clicked, bonding over favorite colors and working on your math problems together.

You both would play outside in recess together, swinging on the swings, or you’d play in the dirt while Kate played with a basketball. You guys were instantly each other’s ride or die, going to one another’s houses for sleepovers almost every weekend. Even throughout the seventh grade girl drama (canon event), and even after both of your friend groups crashed and burned, you two stood strong.

But sometimes things happen that you can’t control, like your parents separating in the middle of your eighth grade year. When you thought it couldn’t get any worse, your dad decided to return to his hometown and move across the country to Iowa, taking you and your brother with him.

You’ve never fought anything harder. You spent most of your time screaming at your dad and begging him to let you stay. When he kept refusing, you eventually accepted the fact that you were leaving. Leaving everything behind, your childhood home, your memories, your best friend.

At the time, the hardest thing you’d ever done was tell Kate you were leaving. You were in tears the whole time, even before you told her. She’d looked at you with worry and concern before embracing you, telling you that no matter what it was, she’d be there for you.

That’s the moment you knew you had fallen in love and that there was absolutely nothing you could do about it.

After you told her, you both cried together, vowing to write everyday (this was before you guys owned phones), and promising to never forget each other.

And that’s exactly how it started out. You wrote to her everyday, filling her in on everything that was happening in your first year of high school. And she’d write back, telling you about how she made the basketball team.

But soon, she started getting busy with all the media attention on the sophomore star, and your letters every day turned into nothing at all. You kept writing to her, but you never got anything back, even after you told her you got a phone.

You figured it was because you both got busy, but you couldn’t help but feel a little hurt that she didn’t write to you back. Eventually, you distracted yourself with finding your love for soccer and her, creating her future in women’s basketball.

You wouldn’t say you forgot her, because how could you? But you didn’t think about her much anymore, and she fell to the back of your mind. You’d moved on with your life, and you were certain she did, too.

Eventually, you graduated and got a full ride to the University of Iowa because of your amazing talent in soccer. Little did you know that a year later, so would Kate. Of course, hers was for basketball, but the same campus nonetheless.

You lay on your bed, watching old soccer highlights, trying to see if you could predict the plays and the fouls before they happen. You look up as you hear your dorm door open and watch as your two roommates drunkenly stumble in. One of your roommates, Sarah, fumbles with the keys before dropping them and leaning on your other roommate, Devon, doubling over in laughter. You roll your eyes and close your laptop. Guess we’re done with that for now.

“What happened to ‘not getting too drunk’?” You asked with raised eyebrows, helping Devon, who is much more drunk than Sarah, to the bed. She mumbles incoherent words, so you look up at Sarah to translate as you take Devon’s shoes off.

Sarah shrugged. “The football team showed up. They’re the life of the party.” She slurs the last bit and then covers her mouth before rushing to the bathroom.

You shake your head as you turn back to Devon, who’s staring down at you. “You’re hot as fuck.” she mumbles.

“You’re drunk, and you have a girlfriend.” You say. You’re far too familiar with Devon when she’s intoxicated. All she does is flirt with people, whether her girlfriend is in the room or not. Luckily, most people on the Iowa campus know her and who her girlfriend is, and they know to stay away, not engaging or encouraging any of her behavior.

“Cait is so annoying.” Devon whines. “She didn’t wanna come to the party with me.” she throws her head back on the pillows, flinging her legs on the bed when you finish taking her shoes off.

“Or.” You grab her a water bottle from the fridge before opening it and making your way back to her. “She has a game tomorrow and doesn’t wanna play hungover.”

You’d been to a couple of Caitlin’s games, and it’s even more amazing to watch her play in person (she’s also fine as hell, but you’d rather keep your life, so this one stays in your head). And with your brother being on the college baseball team, he’d go to many sports events, whether it be basketball, football, women’s basketball, or baseball itself.

Devon sighs before taking the water from you, practically drinking all of it before handing the mostly empty bottle back to you. You put a blanket over her before making your way to check on Sarah.

Opening the door, you notice that she’s taking her makeup off and her hair down. “Oh, shit, you’re all good then?” you say, surprised to see her standing. She turns to you and nods. “Unlike Ms girl in there, I can hold my liquor.” You laugh and turn to leave.

“Oh, you comin’ to the game tomorrow?” Sarah asked, turning to look at you. You sigh deeply before shaking your head. “Nah, I gotta study.”

“Bitch, you’ve studied for like three days, you’re gonna burn yourself out. You’re allowed a break.” Sarah says in a light-hearted manner but you can tell she wasn’t all the way kidding. She wasn’t all the way wrong either. You’d been studying relentlessly for a test in your business class, and gave yourself little room for a break.

“Come on, a small break isn’t gonna kill you.” Sarah persisted. You sigh defeatedly. “Fine.”

She grins widely, already planning outfits to put you in. You shake your head at her antics, when in reality, it was one of your favorite things about her.

Guess you're going to a game tomorrow.

Big mistake. You completely forgot that it was the first home game of the preseason, so the stadium was packed. The people looked like little bees, swarming around in their yellow and black jerseys.

But you and your roommates made sure to take shots before you left the apartment, so the alcohol eased your nerves a little. Since your brother was a baseball player and your roommates girlfriend was Caitlin fucking Clark, you guys had scored courtside seats, right behind the coaching staff.

You shuffle into the aisle, pulling your short black dress down as you settle in. You sit down, and turn your attention to the court. The teams are doing warm ups, and you watch as they do layups. One girl catches your eye, her dirty blonde hair tied back into her signature braid. She looks painfully familiar, but you can’t put your finger on it.

That is until she turns around to sit on the bench , and you get a good look at her last name.

Martin.

Your jaw drops in shock, as your brain tries to process all the emotions that hit you at once. On one hand, you’re pissed that she left you in the lurch, but on the other hand… she’s Kate, and Kate is your best friend, someone who you once didn’t think you could live without.

She’s sitting in front of you, conversing with Caitlin. You obviously couldn’t hear what they were saying, but you’re an expert at reading lips (thanks to your parents), and you make out the word ‘single’, to which Kate nods her head at.

For whatever reason, this made your heart tingle, hope flashing through your mind. Maybe things could go back to how they were.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by Sarah nudging your shoulder. “Stop staring, girl, you’re gonna burn a hole into her head.” she teased. You bit your lip as your cheeks flushed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You mutter unconvincingly. You knew you weren’t being subtle, but at this point, you didn’t care. Your best friend, your first actual best friend, was seated no more than 15 feet in front of you.

Sarah rolls her eyes at your stubbornness. “C’mon bro, you're practically drooling.”

You shake your head. “I know her.” is all you say. Sarah shakes her head, giggling at your antics. “Yeah, everyone does. Her high school stats are off the charts.” You nod, although you’re not surprised. You’d watch Kate play in middle school, and she was a beast then, so you could only imagine what a powerhouse she was now.

And you were right. Kate and Caitlin dominated the entire game, piggy-backing off of each other, getting assist after assist. Whether it was Caitlin passing it behind-the-back to Kate, or Kate doing a no-look pass to Caitlin. The stadium was louder than you’ve ever heard it, most of the ruckus coming from the student section as they cheered on the freshman and their beloved Caitlin Clark.

The duo scored a total of 98 points together, and along with the rest of the team, Iowa won with 112 points, beating the opposing team by 67 points. The crowd storms the court, and you sit and watch as thousands of people in yellow and black attire swarm the players.

You and your roommates stay behind, as Devon waits for the people to clear out so she can hug her girlfriend. Eventually, most of the audience cleared out, only a couple of fans lingering. You take a deep breath as your roommates stand and make their way to Caitlin and Kate, who are laughing about something together.

Kate’s laughter is like music to your ears, a sound that almost makes you cry as an overwhelming amount of memories of hearing that beautiful noise every day swarm your brain.

You stand a little farther back as Devon goes up and hugs her girlfriend from behind, eliciting a yelp from a startled Caitlin. Caitlin turns around, hugging her girlfriend before kissing her passionately. You’d be disgusted, but you're far too distracted because at this point, the attention from Kate is on you.

You both stared at each other for a second before she spoke. “Do I know you from somewhere?” she asked. Her voice is just as amazing as you remembered it to be, only slightly deeper. You smiled nervously as you felt tears well in your eyes.

“I’d hope so. My brother used to drive to take us to the Phillips gas station, and you’d force him to buy you Skittles.” You smile as you watch her eyebrows furrow before they light up with excitement, just like they used to.

“No fucki-” she cuts herself off by jumping on you. Your hands go instinctively to catch her, hooking your hands under her thighs. Kate buries her face in your neck, squealing as she squeezes you as if you’ll disappear if she lets go.

“I can’t believe…there’s- how are you here right now?” She asked as she pulled away from your neck. You’re still holding her, and you know for a fact that if you weren’t in shape, you’d be tired, but because of the workouts your coach has you doing, you’re able to hold her with ease.

“After the move, I got into soccer… it turns out I was pretty good, and they gave me a scholarship.” You say, looking up at her. She grins at you. “That’s amazing! After you stopped sending me letters, I assumed you had forgotten about me.”

Your eyebrows furrow at this. “Wait, what? No, I kept sending you stuff, I just stopped getting stuff back, so I just thought you got busy.”

She shakes her head. “I never got any of them.”

“Really?”

“Not one.”

You shake your head as you put her down. “I don’t know why, I wrote to you every day.” Her arms stayed around your neck as your hands navigated to her waist, resting there as you two looked at each other.

Kate bites her lips in thought but shakes her head, pulling you into a hug. “Doesn’t matter. I’m so happy you're here.” Your heart swells at this, hearing those words healed every single ounce of doubt about her that you’d ever had. She didn’t forget about you, she was in the same boat as you, waiting for a response. For years.

“I missed you so fucking much.” You whisper, finally letting tears fall. Kate hears the way your voice shakes and pulls away. She looks at you with sympathy.

“I’m sorry.” She whispers. You shake your head, shaking off her apology. “Not your fault.”

She smiles at you, and you're both looking in each other's eyes for a moment.

Everything freezes. This is the girl you grew up with. The girl who kicked the boy who purposely stepped on your brand new kicks with his muddy shoes. This was the girl who made fun of you for your shitty spelling, the girl who made you feel at home, even while yours was falling apart.

You look in her eyes and you realize home is not always a place. Sometimes home is a person.

Your rock. Your home. Your person.

And she is all of the above.

______________________________

taglist: @bueckerslover @wintersstan @lilia22hicks @fake-intelligences @breeloveschris