#And yet he still asks him to fix things. He still lets him go when Layton would have understood if it wasn't possible

[cressidagrey]

The Queen of Romantasy and the Race Car Prince - Chapter 23

Pairing: Lando Norris x Elizabeth "Lizzie" Treshton (Original Character)

Summary:

Elizabeth Treshton—bestselling romantasy author, queen of fae heartbreak, and sworn devotee of a carefully structured routine—never expected her service dog to abandon protocol and diagnose a Formula 1 driver with something. But that’s exactly what happens when Mara the wonder-dog ditches Lizzie’s side to aggressively alert to none other than Lando Norris in the middle of a coffee shop.

Warnings and Notes: 

Mention of epilepsy and service animals. I don't myself suffer from epilepsy, so I asked my IRL friend, who thankfully was nice enough to let me ask her all the questions I could come up with. The rest I asked Reddit. So everything that's wrong...that's totally my fault and not on purpose.

We are wrapping up loose plot threads so: Hungary 2024, WHICH I FIXED (kinda). My questionable understanding of racing strategy? Crocheting.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

Lando had seen Lizzie nervous before—before a book signing, even before their first public appearance together—but this was an entirely new level. She was sitting in the passenger seat, gripping the hem of her sweater so tightly that he was surprised the fabric hadn’t ripped yet.

“Lizzie,” he said gently.

She exhaled sharply. “Lando, I don’t think you understand. Your sisters have read my books.”

“Yeah, they love them.”

“That’s the problem!” She turned to him, eyes wide with panic. “What if your mum has read them? What if she’s read the spicy parts? Lando, I wrote those scenes!”

He tried—he really did—to keep a straight face, but a laugh escaped before he could stop it. “Liz, I hate to break it to you, but my mum is a grown woman who had four kids. She’s not going to combust if she reads a bit of smut.”

Lizzie looked at him like he’d just blasphemed. “That’s your mum! God, Lando, you’re missing the point.”

“Oh, I have a point,” he said, still trying not to laugh. “And that point is, you’re making this way too big a deal.”

She scowled at him, whacking him with the back of her hand. “You’re being extremely unhelpful right now.”

He caught her hand, grinning. “Hey, I’m just providing perspective. But if you want to keep being nervous on your own, be my guest.”

Lizzie huffed but didn’t pull away from his grip. “Why do I feel like you’re enjoying my freaking out?”

He squeezed her hand, still amused. “Because it’s entertaining to watch.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, but the effect was diminished by the way she was worrying her bottom lip. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”

Lando bit back a smirk, bringing her hand to his mouth and pressing a small kiss to her knuckles. “Maybe I am.”

“Your dad is a millionaire, Lando,” she muttered as they pulled into the driveway. “What if he thinks I’m using you for your money?”

Lando couldn’t help himself. He laughed. “What?”

Lizzie huffed, glaring at him. “Don’t laugh at me! It’s a valid concern!”

He tried—and failed—to regain his composure. “You’re worried my dad is going to think you’re a gold digger?”

Lizzie nodded, looking at him with wide, earnest eyes. Lando bit back another laugh, shaking his head. “Liz, love, you really worry too much.”

“I’m serious, Lando!” she protested. “People talk, okay? And with your family’s background, I can’t blame them. How am I supposed to convince them that I’m not just some fangirl with a talent for writing dirty scenes?” Her eyes widened. “Oh my god, I am,“ she whispered.

“Come on,” he coaxed, reaching over to squeeze her knee. “They already love you.”

“They don’t know me.”

“They know of you. And they’re excited to meet you properly. Trust me, they’re more likely to make me uncomfortable than you.”

Lizzie lifted her head, narrowing her eyes. “Why?”

Lando smirked. “Because they’re probably going to tell you all the embarrassing things I did as a kid.”

That seemed to help—at least a little. She huffed a small laugh, shaking her head. “If they bring out baby photos, I’m taking pictures.”

“Traitor.”

“Survival.”

He chuckled, shaking his head before unbuckling his seatbelt.

Lizzie did the same, taking a deep breath. When Lando walked over to her side of the car and held out his hand, she took it, gripping it tightly.

“Ready?” he asked.

“No,” she replied, but she climbed out of the car anyway.

Mara jumped out of the backseat with a wagging tail, immediately tucking herself against Lizzie's side.

Lizzie laughed, giving the dog a quick scratch on the head. Lando watched her intently, noticing how tense she still was.

He moved forward, placing a hand on the small of her back. “Breathe,” he told her softly.

She let out a shaky exhale, leaning into his touch. "I'm trying," she muttered, sounding a little less nervous.

They began the short walk toward the door, Mara trotting happily ahead of them. Lando could feel Lizzie trembling a little under his touch.

“Remember," he murmured against her ear, "they’re going to be just as nervous as you, if not more."

Lizzie shot him a disbelieving look but didn’t have time to say anything as the door swung open.

The front door opened before they even reached it. His mum stood there, beaming, and before Lizzie could get a word out, Cisca pulled her into a warm hug.

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s so good to finally meet you.”

Lizzie tensed for a split second, then melted. “You too, Mrs. Norris. Thank you for having me.”

“Cisca,” his mum corrected, stepping back. “And please, we’ve been waiting for ages to meet you. Lando keeps you all to himself.”

Lizzie shot Lando a look, and he just grinned. “Told you.”

His mother stepped back, still smiling. “Well, now that I’ve got you in person, it makes sense why Lando's been so distracted." She cast a sly glance in Lando's direction. He just rolled his eyes.

"Mum," he said, a warning tone to his voice.

His mother just laughed, patting his cheek affectionately. “Oh, don’t you mum me.” She turned back to Lizzie, linking their arms together. “Now, come on. We’ve got lunch ready.”

Lando let them walk ahead, watching how easily his mum settled Lizzie. Even when he was a kid, his mum had always had a way of making people feel comfortable. Now, it seemed Lizzie was on the receiving end of that skill.

They headed inside, the rest of the family waiting in the living room. They all stood when they entered, and though Lando wasn’t surprised to see the eager curiosity on their faces, he still shot them a warning look. His brother in particular looked like he was preparing to say or do anything to embarrass him.

“Finally!” Oliver stood , arms crossed, grinning like an idiot. “The Elizabeth Treshton, in the flesh. Lando has been hoarding you." His brother wasted no time. “Alright,, I have questions,” he announced brightly. “First of all, how did this idiot pull you? Second, how long did it take before you realized he’s an absolute menace? Third—”

Adam Norris appeared in the doorway, shaking his head fondly. “Leave her alone, Oliver.”

Oliver just grinned. “No can do, Dad. She willingly signed up for Lando. I need answers.”

Adam shot Lando a look. “You should’ve known bringing her here would be opening her up to interrogation.”

Lizzie was trying hard not to laugh, but her eyes were sparkling. Lando couldn’t tell if that was from nerves or amusement.

"I have questions!" And there was his youngest sister. He should have known that neither Flo or Cisca were going to be normal.

"Of course you do," Lando muttered.

Flo ignored him and beamed at Lizzie. “I have questions too!"

His mother rolled her eyes at her children, stepping forward. “How about we hold off on the interrogation until after lunch?” She placed a hand on Lizzie’s shoulder, offering the slightest bit of reprieve. “I think poor Lizzie here needs a moment to readjust before we barrage her with questions.”

"But I have book questions!" Flo said quickly.

"And you can ask those during lunch," His mother assured her, steering Lizzie away. "Give the girl a chance to breathe."

"Fine, fine," Oliver said, flopping back onto the couch like a disgruntled teenager.

Adam chuckled. “Maybe try not to scare the poor woman off in the first five minutes?”

"Oh, no worries there," Oliver drawled. "She put up with Lando, right? Everything else will be a breeze."

Lando just rolled his eyes.

Adam laughed, clapping Lando on the back. “Don’t act like that comment wasn’t 100% accurate.”

Lizzie slipped right in the midst of his family, like she always had belonged there. Keeping up with his sisters' rapid-fire Q and A, his very fascinated toddler niece who kept staring at Mara, who sat next to Lizzie, as well-behaved as always...

It was almost surreal to watch the scene unfold. Lizzie was already comfortable with his family, chatting and laughing, easily deflecting questions and answering others. Even his sisters had given up their attempts at embarrassing him, too interested in Lizzie to bother with him now.

He watched all this, trying to keep the smile off his face. It wasn’t until his dad walked over and stood next to him did Lando realize he hadn’t said anything in a while.

Adam clapped Lando on the back, his tone warm. “You picked a good one, son.”

Lando’s chest filled with quiet pride as he watched Lizzie laugh at something Flo had said.

“Yeah,” he said, smiling. “I really did.”

He should have known that something was going to go wrong.

It started with Mara.

She’d been lying calmly at Lizzie’s feet one second, then suddenly sprang up, ears perked, tail stiff. She nudged Lizzie’s leg with her nose, then her arm. Insistent. Focused.

Lizzie stilled.

Lando was already frowning. “Liz?”

She exhaled slowly, looking down at Mara before turning toward him. “I’m going to have a seizure.”

Just like that. Simple. Direct. As if she were telling him it might rain later.

Lando shot to his feet. “What—what do I—”

A tense silence fell across the room as the others picked up on the situation. Lizzie reached out, fingers skimming Mara’s head as she struggled to keep her breaths even. She was already pale, a thin sheen of sweat gleaming on her forehead.

His mum was the first to recover, her expression calm but her voice sharp. "How do you want to handle this, sweetheart?"

"I need to go lay down," Lizzie said, her voice careful. "I should have a few minutes until it hits."

Everyone else was still reeling, frozen in shock, but Lando’s mind snapped into focus. “Right. Yeah. Come on.”

He crossed the room, gently tugging Lizzie to her feet. She leaned on him, her weight a little heavier than usual.

“Lando,” Adam said, “we can—”

“I’ve got it,” he said, cutting his dad off. He shifted Lizzie’s weight, supporting her as best he could. “Just...give us some space, okay?”

His dad nodded, clearly wanting to say more, but holding back for Lizzie's sake. Lando appreciated the effort.

He half-carried Lizzie out the door, Mara sticking close to them. The dog knew as well as Lando did – something was wrong.

The walk to his old room felt like it took an eternity.

As soon as they reached it, Lizzie was already moving, sinking down to the floor like she’d done this a hundred times before. Maybe she had.

"What do you need?" he asked her, sawllowing.

“Nothing,” she said. “You don’t have to do anything.” She stretched out, lying flat on her side, arms loose, legs bent just slightly. Mara settled near her head, pressed close but not touching.

Lando hated how practiced it was.

His pulse hammered in his throat. He dropped down beside her, panic clawing at his ribs. “Lizzie—”

“If you can’t watch it, I get it,” she murmured, voice calm, even as something flickered in her expression. “But don’t touch me.”

Lando’s hands clenched into fists.

“I— I can watch,” he said, even though his entire body screamed otherwise. “I’m not leaving you.”

Lizzie managed a weak smile, but her eyes were already going glassy. "Okay," she whispered. "But don't blame yourself." And then her breath hitched, and her body began to tremble.

And then she was gone.

Her body tensed, jerking suddenly, violently. Her hands curled, fingers twitching erratically. Lando could hear her breathing shift—harsh, uneven. It was awful.

He dug his nails into his palms, forcing himself to stay still, to stay calm.

It felt like forever.

In reality, it was barely a minute.

Then, as quickly as it began, it ended.

Lizzie sagged against the floor, still, quiet except for her uneven breaths. Mara whined softly, nuzzling against her arm.

Lando moved carefully, shifting onto his knees.

“Liz?” he asked, voice tight. “Can you hear me?”

A long pause. Then, a weak murmur: “Mm. Hate that part.”

Relief hit him so hard he nearly choked on it. He exhaled sharply, pressing a shaking hand over his face. “Yeah,” he said, voice thick. “Me too.”

Lizzie cracked one eye open, exhausted but there. “You okay?”

Lando let out a strangled laugh. “Am I okay?”

Lizzie blinked at him like it was a genuine question.

“Jesus Christ, Lizzie.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “That was awful.”

She hummed, voice drowsy. “Yeah. Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Don’t—don’t apologize—”

“I’m fine,” she mumbled.

Lando swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Yeah. Okay. But I still hate it.”

Lizzie sighed, shifting slightly, her limbs sluggish. “Me too.”

He watched as Mara pressed in closer, her body warm against Lizzie’s side. Lando reached out slowly, brushing damp hair away from Lizzie’s forehead.

She leaned into the touch, just barely.

Lando swallowed hard. “You’re okay,” he murmured.

Lizzie didn’t answer—already half-asleep in the aftermath.

But she was breathing.

She was safe.

And he would make sure she always stayed that way.

He wasn't sure how much time went by, but eventually, soft footsteps sounded at the doorway. He glanced up to see his mum standing there, her face pale, expression carefully neutral. She took in the situation for a moment, her eyes lingering on Lizzie before looking to Lando. There was a silent question on her face, and Lando nodded to her. She exhaled softly, nodding to herself, before speaking quietly.

"Is she alright?"

Lando's voice felt like gravel in his throat. "She's fine. She'll probably sleep for awhile."

His mum stepped more into the room, taking in the sight of Lizzie on the floor. A deep frown pinched her brow, like she was trying to hold back her emotions.

Lando looked back at Lizzie, reaching out and brushing his fingers gently over her damp hair. Just the sight of her sleeping peacefully was enough to soothe some of the wild panic from earlier, but his heart still ached.

"Does...has this happened before?" His mum's voice was quiet and careful, as if she were worried about upsetting him.

"I've never seen it," he admitted weakly. "I knew she had epilepsy. I have seen her after a seizure...but I never saw her seize," Lando admitted, swallowing. "How can a mother see this and then decide to leave?"

"Lando..." his mum's voice was gentle, almost like she was bracing him for something.

Lando's heart felt heavy. "I just don't understand how someone could—" he cut himself off when his voice broke, trying again. "I don't understand how someone could just leave their child like that."

His mum crossed the room, sitting beside him and pressing a hand to his shoulder. "I don't think most people will ever be able to understand that, hon. I can't," she admitted freely. "If I imagine that it's Flo or Cisca in her place...nobody would have gotten me away from my daughter," his mother said fiercely.

He swallowed down a lump in his throat, his voice tight. "That's because you wouldn't leave her," he said, voice low. "You'd never go without her. You'd fight to stay every step of the way. And you sure as hell wouldn't give up on her."

There was a beat as he stared at the floor, and he barely registered his mum wrapping an arm around his shoulders. She pulled him into a tight hug, and he couldn't help but bury his face against her shoulder, eyes stinging.

His breath hitched. "I just... I can't imagine just walking away from her."

"Then don't," his mother said simply. "Don't be like her mother. Don't walk away. Talk with her and the next time it will happen, it will still feel horrid. You'll never get used to it. But you'll learn to live with it."

The words hit Lando like a weight to the chest. For a moment, he just sat there, absorbing them. His first instinct was to disagree. He would never, ever be like Lizzie’s mother. He could never abandon her like that.

But then...

His mum was right. He'd never get used to the idea of him just standing by and watching while she suffered. No matter how many times he would see her seize, it would still be torture for him.

But this wasn’t about him. 

This was about Lizzie. Lizzie, who needed to live with an invisible illness that could be controlled to the best of modern medicine's knowledge, but never cured completely.

And Lando would rather live through the torture of seeing her have a seizure a hundred times than to let her go. To leave. To let her deal with it alone. 

***

Lizzie woke up feeling like she’d been wrung out, every muscle sore and heavy, her head pounding with the dull, familiar ache of exhaustion. She blinked at the ceiling, willing herself to move, but even that felt like too much effort.

Then she remembered.

Lando.

The seizure.

How he’d seen it—how he’d stayed.

Her stomach twisted.

Carefully, she turned her head.

Lando was lying on his side, facing her. He was awake. Had he even slept? His hair was an absolute mess, his expression unreadable, but his eyes were sharp, studying her closely.

Lizzie had always known this moment would come.

She’d warned Lando about it early on—matter-of-factly, no dramatics. She had epilepsy. She had seizures.

But knowing about something and seeing it were two very different things.

And she’d lost people to the latter before.

Her mother couldn’t handle it. The fear, the helplessness, the exhaustion of watching and not being able to do anything. It was too much. So she left.

Lizzie didn’t blame her.

But she also knew what it felt like to be too much for someone to love.

Lando held her gaze, the silence stretching painfully between them.

She swallowed hard, bracing for it - the looks of concern, the pity, the thinly veiled excuses.

Then Lando spoke, his voice rough and quiet.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like I lost a fight with a freight train.”

Lando’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “Yeah,” he muttered. “I figured.”

The silence between them was heavy.

Lizzie forced herself to push up onto her elbows, ignoring the way her body protested. “Lando—”

He cut her off with a shake of his head, his eyes never leaving her. “Stop talking.”

She went silent, staring at him. His gaze was like a steady weight, pinning her in place.

He inhaled slowly, as if steeling himself.

“I’m not going anywhere, Liz.”

Her breath caught. She'd been bracing herself for rejection, for distance. For fear and confusion and pity.

But Lando was just...looking at her. Just like that. Not like she was broken. Not like she was different now. He was just looking at her.

“You’re not?” Her voice was a whisper, vulnerable and terrified in spite of herself.

He shook his head. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

Something stirred in her chest. Hope, maybe.

Or maybe it was something else.

She swallowed, trying to get control of her emotions. “Most people don’t stick around after they see it.”

Something flickered across his face—something sharp, something angry. “Well, they’re idiots.”

Lizzie huffed a small, tired laugh. “Maybe.”

Lando shifted closer, hesitating before reaching out. His fingers brushed lightly over her wrist, careful, almost hesitant.

“Did it scare you?” she asked softly.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, his fingers curled around her hand, grounding both of them. “I hated seeing you like that,” he admitted, voice low. “Knowing and seeing aren’t the same thing.”

She sighed, exhaustion pressing against her bones. “No. They’re not.”

Lando shifted again, his thumb sweeping over the back of her hand. “Your mum couldn’t handle it.”

It wasn’t a question.

Lizzie swallowed. “No.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then—“I’m not her.”

Lizzie’s chest ached, and not from the seizure.

“I know.”

Lando’s fingers squeezed hers. “Do you?”

She let out a slow breath. “Yeah. I do.”

“Good.” His voice softened, but the weight of his words remained. “Because I need you to believe that I’m not going anywhere.”

Her eyes stung with held-back tears. She clenched her jaw, willing herself not to cry. “You can’t possibly know that.”

Lando’s expression remained steady, but she could see the determination in his eyes. "I do know that,” he said softly. “I know me, Liz. How I feel. What I can handle. And I can tell you with complete certainty that I’m not leaving. You can’t get rid of me now even if you tried.”

She tried to keep her voice steady, but her breath hitched on a stifled sob. “What if it changes though? What if one day you can’t—”

“Liz.” He cut her off, his tone firm but not unkind. “Stop it. Stop worrying about what-ifs. This is my choice. I’m staying. End of story.”

“But—”

He cut her off again, his grip on her hand tightening, as if he could force her to believe him through touch alone. “No buts. This is a non-negotiable for me.” He took another deep breath, his voice growing even quieter. “I’m not your mother, Liz. You are not too much. And I’m not scared. Got it?”

Something crumbled inside her, some long-held piece of fear disintegrating in the face of his steady, certain gaze.

Her throat felt tight, and she could feel the tears threatening to spill over.

“Got it?” He repeated, his thumb rubbing softly over her knuckles.

There was something pleading in his voice—a silent plea for her to understand, to believe him.

And she realized in that moment, as he held her hand and looked at her with so much certainty...she did.

She believed him.

[dearwhs]

the ultimate 10 steps to confessing (jaehyun's idea) ★ hts — 한태산

★ genre: 80% crack, 10% fluff wc: 2.4k warnings: nothing, down bad loser taesan... watch out

꒰ ☆ ꒱ notes: TAESAN'S FIRST PASS? WE CHEERED. FINALLY OUT FRM THE DRAFTS + its lacking cute scenes but ure gonna ijbol i hope

★ part 1 here !!! > 10 steps to NOT fall in love (100% works?)

꒰ ☆ ꒱

remember jaehyun's "what about 10 steps of confessing to yn now?"—well, that thought is flying over taesan's head now, messing him up, contemplating. is jaehyun's suggestion really a good idea?

probably not. definitely not. you're just his crush. it's bound to fade, right? well, despite failing all the 10 steps of how to NOT fall in love. why's he still in denial?

okay, maybe ever since that day—acting like your parent or something, being concerned about you—you lived inside his head rent free. he'd replay the moment you two shared that now he's openly smiling in front of jaehyun whenever he thinks about you.

safe to say we lost taesan to you. you had him wrapped around your fingers.

maybe he really needs to do something about this crush thing. his actions? not normal. he's experiencing all the symptoms you'd get when you're crazy in love—and the smartest move he could do to fix whatever this was? ask jaehyun for help. after all, he's in this mess because of their silly bets.

which is as to why taesan is now in jaehyun's habitat, cause he cannot bare to see you right now. he's afraid he's heart would go badum badum again 'til it explodes.

now, taesan's face is buried on the pillow, groaning. and what is jaehyun doing? laughing. mhm, he's laughing over taesan's despair because this is a side he never saw in their years of friendship ever, like EVER. he'll even take a video if he can, but you know what'll happen if he does... maybe that wasn't part of his best ideas yet.

"hey, taesan. i'll help you, dude. i've got an idea. " jaehyun grinned, nudging taesan's shoulder.

taesan just looks up at him thinking, he's up to no good again, isn't he?—either way, he's so lost that he just accepted his faith under jaehyun's hands. here goes nothing.

"the ultimate 10 steps to confessing!" (jaehyun partially plagiarized taesan's first plan), after hearing that? taesan didn't even bother to argue on why they're doing this 10-step thing again, but instead he's just hoping whatever this plan was, it better work.

and again, just like that, "the ultimate 10 steps to confessing" has been reborn. let's just hope it works.

꒰ ☆ ꒱

Jaehyun's Ultimate 10 Steps To Confessing!

STEP 1: admit you like her

– first step, stop being in denial. pretending to be all cool when she passes by doesn't add aura, taesan—the moment you're gone, he'll smile like a freak IN PUBLIC (which is an automatic -800 aura for our fake emo).

– okay, easy! he just gotta admit he likes you. except, he's outside the apartment mumbling to himself as he takes out the trash, "i like–" you got this "i like h–" — "you like?" yup, of course you were there, accidentally creeping up behind him.

– despite being caught off guard, he just plays it off, coughing. "oh, i like pancakes." (in fact, he doesn’t. STEP 1: PASSED! even if he didn't admit it—his actions did, let's cheer!)

꒰ ☆ ꒱

STEP 2: start acting normal

– according to jaehyun, taesan's normal mode is currently turned off. because recently, he had been so conscious of his actions when you're around. it's like he's overlooking things—is he staring for too long? should he look away?– or does that makes him look weird?

– you'd be in a convenience store eating out—his treat. you're rambling to him how you did so well on your quiz, you'll subconsciously high-five him. you don't know the impact that high-five had caused to him, cause the moment your hand touched against his, his hands just freezed in place, literally. once he noticed his hands were paused up in the air, he just awkwardly plays it off as scratching his head, "why is my head suddenly itchy, haha." (STEP 2: failed...?)

꒰ ☆ ꒱

STEP 3: stop overthinking EVERYTHING

– after over-reading his actions detail by detail—he's slowly latching now over yours. even searching on google, "what does it mean for someone to..." yep, he's cooked. (he needs to be stopped..)

– curious what made him head to google?— it was the way you said good morning to him, earlier. somehow, he caught the fact that your voice was two notes lower than usual. did it even make sense for him to notice that? maybe. he is studying music, after all. (STEP 3: failed, once again…)

꒰ ☆ ꒱

STEP 4: planning the actual confession!

– so, at this point, jaehyun thinks taesan had finally calmed down (which i don't think he did) and is finally ready to plan the confession: their og plan.

– though, taesan's a little bit stuck on step 3. he ended up questioning himself—what if i mess up?— like what if you laugh at him? what if he ends up messing up? what if you ignore him forever, or worst.. what if he confesses to the wrong person!? (okay, maybe the last bit is unlikely, but we can see how bad his overthinking can get.)

– jaehyun pats taesan's back, "it'll work as long as you follow my steps, okay man?" he said with determination in his voice.

– oh, jaehyun's the biggest taeyn shipper—now listing all the steps using his pencil with bite marks (we don't talk about that – jaehyun) and a dream.

꒰ ☆ ꒱

STEP 5: figuring out your interests (secretly...!)

– easy! — "what's your favorite..." he said, for the 30th time, practicing his words as if he was reading a script, even putting efforts on his facial expression. (which he had never done—well, not until now)

– upon entering the bus, someone yells your name, and of course, it was taesan—you automatically sit on the chair he saved for you, right beside him.

– you two sat quietly—well, not until he broke the silence (little did you know, he'd been practicing in his head), "sooo, what are you into these days?" wincing at his own voice as soon as the question came out, trying his very best to awkwardly not look away—like he usually does.

– you pour your interests all over taesan—the cafe you've been currently obsessing over, your new favorite drink, your favorite band: guynextdoor, you spilled everything. and taesan? he just nods as if he understood everything your mouth blabbered.

– in reality, he didn't. though, he now has an idea! you like this new cafe, new drink alert for the nth time, and guynextdoor—which he considers that band his enemy for now for owning a place in your heart. (STEP 6: a somewhat success—back to researching he goes.)

꒰ ☆ ꒱

STEP 6: drop little hints

– how is this in any way useful? well, according to jaehyun, if you drop little hints, maybe, just maybe, you'll notice, and then you and taesan get together and live happily ever after. but, i wish it was that easy, jaehyun. i wish. still, taesan does it anyways.

– first thing he does? he tries to compliment you—keyword, tries. "hey. i um, like your handwriting," — "thanks!" it was unusual, but you appreciated whatever that was. him? he's whispering under his breath, did i do okay? was that obvious?

– taesan told jaehyun—it made him slam his own face, because how could you fail COMPLIMENTING??? he told you to try again. (he's locked in)

– at this point, he's showering you compliments everyday, when you see him outside the apartment, when you're on campus, wherever you are, he'll make sure he gets to throw you at least one compliment. he hopes you don't find it too weird, though. (STEP 6: passed...)

꒰ ☆ ꒱

STEP 7: learn from the professionals (aka kdrama)

– jaehyun wrote this idea, cackling to himself, "this is the best step yet," he's totally just not gonna make taesan watch kdrama with him—totally. according to jaehyun, you could never go wrong with kdramas!

– now, jaehyun and taesan are slouching on the couch. taesan's arms crossed, squinting at the television, "so, if i surprise her with flowers, it'll make her like me...?" he muttered in confusion, jaehyun just pretends to nod—he's too busy giggling at the kdrama in front of him.

– then, as they were watching, the male lead spouts their usual cheesy lines, "i've loved you from the moment i saw you,” which made taesan groan, covering his face with a pillow. “no way i’m saying that without cringing.” he'll totally use that scene as a reference. (STEP 7: might work)

꒰ ☆ ꒱

STEP 8: TESTING THE WATERS

– okay, for this, they had to make sure what you think of taesan before going all in. he needs proof that you're comfortable with him or something, so that he won't fall flat on his face scarring the rest of his life with this confession. so, what's their plan? simple. they decided to test the waters with totally not so obvious questions. they'll try their best to fish out your reactions at the mention of someone secretly admiring you—or if your face lights up when taesan is brought up.

– you'll be walking around campus with taesan, and... jaehyun who coincidentally bumped into you two. he casually started the conversation with "so, what do you guys think if, um, someone you know secretly likes you? or uh if they confesses?"—that made taesan's eyes size up because that was NOT in their plan (sadly, he wasn't informed), you gave jaehyun's thinking a thought, "hmm, i guess it depends? if they're sweet and romantic, i'd fall for that."

– jaehyun nods, trying not to hold his grin as he stares at taesan who's quietly biting his lips to stop himself from giggling, mentally taking a note: sweet and romantic, got it. (STEP 8: HAPPY TAESAN AND A SUCCESS)

꒰ ☆ ꒱

STEP 9: going all out >:)

– it's time to prepare taesan's confession. taesan's in jaehyun's little jungle, avoiding you for now to not spoil or slip anything about the confession. in reality, he knows he'll fold if he sees you next door.

– jaehyun's step are pacing back and forth, thinking of the greatest way to confess to you, "what about... you accidentally fall in her arms and confess?" "what? no." "hm, what about you write her name using those drones stuff?" "no? i'm broke." "broke and unromantic? tsk." — taesan just glared at him before stuffing his face on a pillow as jaehyun continues his little brainstorming, not until taesan randomly gets up after getting an idea.

– "wait, she said she wanted something sweet and romantic, right?" taesan suddenly mutters, his eyes lighting up. "and… i kinda know what she’s into, so… maybe we can combine those?" jaehyun just blinks, "i liked my suggestions better, but i guess yours could work. (STEP 9: CHECK!)

꒰ ☆ ꒱

STEP 10: CONFESSION TIME

– they're basically prepared now, flowers? check! chocolates? check! plushies? check! all they've gotta do now is to execute it well—hopefully.

– taesan and you are walking, heading back to the apartment after an exhausting class today. the sky fading from orange to a beautiful purple, casting a soft glow on the environment—it's as if everything came out from a kdrama which is perfect. everything seems to be going to plan.

– the plan was simple: he'll ask to hang out in your place for a bit, then casually pick up your guitar to play a song you've been practicing lately—not knowing he was also getting guitar lesson from the guitar master sungho, then after that, jaehyun will pop up with the gifts. simple and easy, right?

– as you two arrived, he instantly heads for your guitar, "mind if i play something?" you just checked up on him from over the kitchen, "sure, go on." okay, just relax, he can do it. jaehyun's voice enters in his head, "don't mess it up."

– so far it had been going so well, you two were vibing, sitting next to each other, locking eye to eye with the sweetest smiles—it made a somewhat romantic atmosphere. all are going according to the plan, until "TING" his finger caught the wrong string which caught him off guard, making him continuously go off tune—okay, he messed up a little, flustered taesan just slowly puts down the guitar, glaring at his hands for betraying him 'til the guitar slid, clattering on the floor. this is awkward.

– what made it worst? the creaking sound of the front door opening, "CONGRATS TO TAESAN, MY MAN!" it was jaehyun putting on the biggest smile, holding the gifts taesan prepared, even wearing sunglasses indoors... wrong timing, jaehyun, wrong timing...

– the room was insanely silent—you could only hear the flowers and chocolates rustling. you blinked at jaehyun, taesan blinks at jaehyun, and well, jaehyun just blinked, "i saw you through the window proposing..." taesan just slammed his face, "i was apologizing for knocking her guitar down."

– taesan stood up, facing your way, "yn, i like you. i'm sorry this confession thing turned for the worst. it didn't really go my way- but i swear if you give me a chance, i'll properly confess next time-"

– your laugh escaped your mouth, you couldn't barely hold it anymore. "wait, why are you laughing-" you cut him off as you grasp for air— you couldn't stop smiling your cheeks started to hurt, "taesan... you've been too obvious. i've known for a while." which made him look down as he scratch the back of his neck, deeply embarrassed.

– "i like you too, just so you know." he immediately looks up, "really?" that sent him straight to fully crazy in love final level, if you could only hear his heart going crazy to the point that it might actually jump out, and suddenly, ta-da, pretty pink petals started falling down, the same as the one in dramas—except it doesn't make sense at all, well, since you're inside... it was actually just jaehyun sprinkling the petals, "sweet and romantic!"

– taesan couldn't stop himself from laughing at the fact you liked him too despite the ridiculous, awkward, and gone wrong confession. he realized that maybe it wasn't so bad at all, but rather memorable. he ended up leaning closer next to you, holding both of your hands, "i'll make it up, i swear," with the sweetest tone as he squeezes your palms. (STEP 10: it all worked out)

꒰ ☆ ꒱

if you liked this, a like, reblog, or comment is highly appreciated, thank you! ><

[dreamdragonkadia]

As Written Above, So Shall It Be Below Part - I.I Word Count: 3.2k A/N: I like doing mini-parts for the other characters. Feedback, comments, thoughts, and theories are always appreciated! Main Pairing: Rhysand/Reader/Feyre Prev - Next ✦ Ao3

There were two things Mor never expected to happen in her life. Not once had the thought crossed her mind—not in all the centuries she had spent at Rhysand’s side, through war and peace, through his long, aching absence Under the Mountain.

The first was Rhys returning after fifty years by himself. Alone. Without her.

Without the woman who had fought, laughed, and ruled beside him. The woman who had soothed Rhys’s darkest moments, who had been Cassian’s fiercest sparring partner, who had made even Azriel—silent, brooding, unreadable Azriel—smile in that rare way of his. The woman Mor had known since she was young, who had been her friend before she had even known what true friendship was.

She had known—they all had known—that things were bad Under the Mountain. That Rhys had endured horrors none of them could fathom. That you had been there, too, suffering beside him. But none of them had ever, ever thought you wouldn’t come home. That when Rhys returned, you wouldn’t return with him.

The second was when Rhysand—her cousin, the most unshakable male she had ever known—collapsed into her arms and wept as she asked where his wife, where you were.

Dead.

The realization had shattered something in all of them.

The Lady of the Night Court was dead. Gone. No longer breathing, no longer standing in their ranks, no longer offering that quiet strength that had carried them through so many battles. You were simply…gone.

Cassian had let out a sound Mor would never forget, one of pure rage and grief, something torn from the depths of his soul. He had nearly torn through the house in his grief, as if he could undo it, as if fighting hard enough could bring you back.

Azriel had said nothing. He had only disappeared into the shadows, gone for hours, for days, Mor didn’t know. When he returned, his face was stoic, his shadows whispering, coiling tight around him like even they couldn’t bear the loss.

And Rhys—

Rhys had looked at her, at Cassian, at Azriel, at Amren as if he didn’t recognize them. As if the world he had clawed his way back to was not one he wanted to be in anymore.

Mor didn’t know how to hold them together. How to fix this. How to grieve you. She didn’t know how to walk into the townhouse and not see you curled up in the armchair with a book, how to go to Rita’s without you tugging her onto the dance floor, how to live in this city—your city—without you.

Amren had only placed a hand on Rhys’s shoulder, murmured, “I am sorry for your loss,” before turning away. Not out of cruelty. No—Mor had needed time to realize it, that Amren had not known how to react. How to grieve someone who had felt as eternal as the stars.

And then—then there had been the final, gutting blow.

Rhysand, their High Lord, their broken brother, had found his mate.

And she was betrothed to the High Lord of Spring.

A mortal girl.

Mor had stared at him, at the name that passed his lips—Feyre. A name she did not know. A name that meant nothing to her. Because how could it? How could it compare to the woman they had already lost?

A mate, when his wife was barely cold in the grave. 

At least, to them.

Mor did not know whether to weep for him or scream at the Mother for such a cruel twist of fate. 

She tried—gods above, she tried—to find comfort in the idea that maybe, maybe, the Mother had taken pity on them. That maybe this girl, this human girl, was a reincarnation of you. That after twenty long years, the Mother had given them back their Lady of the Night in another form.

Maybe it meant something that Rhys had tried to stay away and yet still found himself drawn to her. That he had gone to her wedding, torn her from it like it had been destiny.

But then Mor met Feyre Archeron.

And she was not you.

There was no flicker of recognition in her soul, no trace of the woman who had stood at Rhys’s side and defied the world for him. There was no laughter shared between them, no secret glances of knowing, no familiarity in the way she moved, the way she breathed.

Feyre Archeron was not you.

And that—that—was the day Mor finally had to accept that her Lady of the Night was truly gone. That her friend would not return with answers, would not be one step ahead of the Hybern threat. That the burden of ruling Hwen City in your stead now lay heavy on Mor’s own shoulders. That she would have to look into your parents’ grief-stricken faces—the only other good thing to come out of the Court of Nightmares besides their daughter—over and over again.

No, Feyre Archeron was not you.

But maybe… maybe she was something else.

Maybe she was a way forward.

Maybe this was the Mother’s last gift to Rhys—this broken, furious, made-fae girl who was his mate, who was, despite everything, starting to put the pieces of him back together.

Perhaps that was why, when Mor finally pushed Rhysand to do something, to try, she used your name.

"She was not your mate, Rhys. No matter how much either of you wanted it to be true. So maybe she sent this one as an apology. I do not think death would keep our Lady from interfering with her court one last time."

And for the first time in days, a snort of laughter—soft, broken, real—escaped Rhysand’s lips.

Mor leaned back against the couch, tipping her whiskey toward him in silent victory.

"I just want to know why," he admitted at last, his voice hoarse as he stared out at the night sky. Whiskey sat in both their hands, the golden liquid catching the light. Not Mor’s drink of choice, but damned if she was going to drink anything else tonight. "Not a single word to me, but a letter. One letter that I burned so no one would ever find out that even Under that awful place, she kept trying to help others. Tried to help me."

"Did her plan work?" Mor muttered, swirling her drink in her glass.

Rhys let out another humorless chuckle. "To perfection. Amarantha’s trust in me skyrocketed after that—deserted by my own dead wife? That was enough to leash me for the rest of time was everyone’s thought. The rest think my wife was a fool, that she got someone from their courts killed." 

Something dark flickered in the room. A pulse of power. A physical manifestation of Rhys’s barely leashed rage. 

Because this court—this family—would defend their Lady of the Night until their own deaths. "I don’t want Feyre to think she’s a replacement for another. Because she’s not—"

"I don’t think anyone who knows you would think that, Rhys." Because you couldn’t be replaced. "She’d want you to be happy. The least you owe her is to be happy."

Rhys stared down into his drink. "I know."

And for the first time in days, Mor almost believed him.

So she didn’t hesitate.

Didn’t hesitate when Rhys gave the order to retrieve Feyre from Spring, to pull his mate from the suffocating golden cage Tamlin had locked her in. Didn’t hesitate to make the girl feel welcome in their court, to offer her a hand despite the ghosts that still lingered in their halls, in their hearts.

Because if Cassian and Azriel—who had known grief longer than most had been alive—could accept Feyre, even while mourning the one they had lost, then so could Mor.

But what did make her hesitate—what had made her stomach tighten, her throat go dry—was when Feyre had seen that portrait in the Townhouse.

One of several Rhysand had commissioned centuries ago. One that, no matter how many years passed, would remain untouched.

"Who is this?" Feyre marveled aloud, fingers brushing along the frame, delicate, reverent.

Despite the gentleness of the touch, Mor wanted to pull her away.

It was instinct, that unyielding need to preserve what little remained of the Lady of the Night Court. To protect the few pieces of you that still lingered, still existed beyond memory, beyond stories whispered in the quiet hours of the night.

Feyre tilted her head, brows furrowing slightly. "She looks familiar."

Mor’s breath caught. A trick of the mind, surely. A passing resemblance buried somewhere in Feyre’s subconscious. It was impossible.

"That’s not possible," Mor said, forcing a casualness she did not feel, hands clasping loosely before her. "She’s dead."

"Dead?" Feyre turned toward her, blinking.

She should have left it at that. Should have let the moment pass. But Feyre only studied the portrait again, gaze tracing the elegant lines of your face, the ethereal glow the artist had captured in your immortal features. Then, softer, almost to herself—

"I wouldn’t forget seeing someone this beautiful."

Mor let out a slow breath, willing herself to stay composed. "She was," she admitted. "Beautiful. Kind. Clever. Too clever for her own good, sometimes." Her lips twitched, but it didn’t reach her eyes. "But she’s been dead for over twenty years now. She—" The High Fae hesitated, staring at the painting, as if expecting you to step out of it, to prove her wrong, to laugh and scold her for being so sentimental. But you never would.

So she turned back to Feyre and said, voice gentler now, "The woman in that portrait was the last Lady of this Court. Rhys’s late wife."

Silence.

Feyre stiffened, her fingers retracting from the frame as if she had touched something sacred, something forbidden.

Mor only continued, because someone had to say it, had to make Feyre understand what that portrait meant, what you had meant. "She died while they were Under the Mountain."

“He never said.” 

"It’s hard. We all just found out about it while he lived with the knowledge for over twenty years."

It should have been that. It was that.

Even when Rhysand and Feyre had secretly married, when Mor had stood in front of his High Lord, her anger had not been at the bond or the ceremony. It had been at him. At the fact that he had let Feyre go back to Spring alone. That he had risked losing her, too.

But when he had finally told them, She is not just your lady. She is your High Lady.

Mor had felt the smallest, quietest relief.

Because your title was still your own.

Every other Lady of the Court was but a high title for a consort, a place beside their High Lord and nothing more. But you had taken that title and made it into something greater. You had honored Rhysand’s mother with it, had turned it into a crown forged in power and shadow and fear.

You had made the world know the power of your name.

And when she still heard the whispers—the Illyrian warriors murmuring of the Lady of the Night coming to claim their souls, the Court of Nightmares speaking your name in hushed reverence, in fear—

It brought a smile to Mor’s face.

Because even now, even dead, you were still a legend.

Even he—her father, cruel and wretched as he was—would not dare speak against you. Not in front of others. Even if the Court of Nightmares hated Rhysand, even if they despised her, they had, at the very least, respected your name.

Even if it should have been that—should have been only that—it was all ruined for her when Feyre’s sister, Elain, found that portrait in the old office in the House of Wind.

When she had wandered into a magically sealed room that no one had opened in over a decade—doors that should have remained locked, untouched.

And yet, there Elain had stood, in the middle of that forgotten space, staring up at the portrait as if it had spoken to her.

Mor had barely managed to get out a sharp, “Elain, what are you doing in here?” before the seer whispered—

"She’s waiting."

A chill slithered down Mor’s spine. "What?"

Elain didn’t look away from the painting.

Didn’t blink.

Her eyes, too bright, too knowing, stayed fixed on the face immortalized in that portrait—on you.

"She’s waiting," Elain repeated, softer this time. "She was lost, but the stars kept her safe. Kept them both safe. A daughter of darkness, cradled by fire. Hidden, hidden… but the storm is coming. Slipping faster than she could catch it. Stop it."

Mor's stomach plummeted.

No.

No, Elain had to be wrong. Had to be seeing something else, someone else.

Because you were dead.

But even as they left that room, even as Mor slammed the doors shut, sealed them tight with wards no one should be able to break again—

Something in her chest knotted.

Anxiety. Dread. Sorrow.

And the tiniest flicker of hope.

Her feet carried her forward at a slow pace.

Mor wasn’t sure if that whisper of hope had stripped all sense of reason from her. If it was something she should crush beneath her heel, should let go.

Because if you had been alive—if you were alive—you would have come back.

And if you were—somewhere—the political disaster that would unfold…

Mor exhaled, rubbing her hands over her face as if she could scrub the thoughts away. Maybe she was just angry. Still furious with Rhysand for promising her father access to Velaris, for opening up the Moonstone Palace.

For giving access to your things, to the rooms you had once filled with your presence. Mor had made sure to seal them twice over. 

It wasn’t fair—to Feyre, to her High Lady, to the female who had done nothing but try to find her place in a court still haunted by ghosts. She didn’t want to hurt Feyre. Not in any way.

Feyre, who had never asked for any of this.

Feyre, who had willingly left the portraits untouched, who had once sat near them and said, “It brings me a strange sort of comfort. Like she’s holding my hand.”

Feyre, who had wandered into that old, abandoned room—the one that had belonged to you—because it was the only place she had felt like she could breathe with everything happening. "I would have liked to meet her."

Maybe Mor was just awful for wanting to know the truth so badly that she was willing to drag another down this pit of hope and anxiety.

But…

She knew where to find Az at this hour.

A small lake just outside Velaris.

A place pulled down with memories—of stolen afternoons, of you lounging on a blanket with a book in one hand and a drink in the other. The laughter so loud and bright it made her chest ache. Of a night that had ended with her doubled over, vomiting into the bushes while you—drunkenly snorting—tried to rub her back, only to kneel over and throw up right beside her.

Az had been beside himself, torn between disgust and amusement. "Idiots," he had muttered, handing both of them water. "The worst drunkards I’ve ever seen."

And you—gods above, you—had only groaned, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, "You love us. Not a word to Cassian about this.”

She found him standing at the edge of the water, wings tucked in, shadows curling lazily around his shoulders as he stared out across the lake. The moonlight turned the surface silver, broken only by the ripples of a passing breeze.

Azriel had barely glanced over his shoulder at her, brow raised.

"I need your help, but you can't tell anyone what we're doing." The words tumbled out too fast, rushed, breathless.

Az blinked at her. He should have told her no. Should have said that if Rhys asked, he would tell him. Should have reminded her that they had all made promises, all sworn. But Azriel remained quiet, letting her continue.

She only had to say your name once to prompt the slightest reaction—so slight that anyone else might have missed it.

The faintest hitch in his breath. The way his shadows coiled tighter around his shoulders. And then Mor was spilling it.

Everything.

Elain’s words. The way she had looked at that portrait, the way her voice had gone distant, hollow. The certainty that laced her tone, as if she knew. As if she had seen.

Mor’s theories followed, unraveling in rapid, desperate succession. Outlandish, impossible, reckless—but still she said them. Because if she didn’t say them, if she didn’t speak them aloud, she might drown in them. "Tell me I am going crazy," she finally pleaded. "Tell me I am grieving and this whole Hybern-at-our-doors nightmare has made me insane."

Her voice cracked.

Azriel just stared at her. Did not say a word. He should have said something. Should have reassured her, told her she was being ridiculous, told her that grief was making her see things that weren’t there.

But he didn’t.

And that was what terrified her the most.

Because Azriel did not waste words. Did not entertain fantasies. If there was no truth to her theories, if she was simply unraveling under everything, he would have told her.

Mor crossed her arms, trying to ground herself. “Say something.”

He hesitated. Too long.

"I don’t know what you want me to say," he admitted at last. His voice was quiet, careful.

"Say I’m wrong. Say it’s impossible."

A muscle feathered in his jaw. His eyes flickered with something she couldn’t place.

"You’re grieving," he finally said. "That much is true. We all still are."

Mor clenched her teeth, looking away, looking at the lake, anywhere but at him. He hadn’t said she was wrong.

"Az—"

"Elain sees things we don’t understand," he interrupted. "Not all of them make sense. Not all of them come true in the way we think."

But that wasn’t a denial.

And Mor knew—knew—that if Azriel had any doubt about something, he would hunt it down until he found the truth.

"So you don’t believe me," she muttered, shaking her head. "But you don’t not believe me either."

He said nothing. That silence was worse than any answer he could have given her. Silence meant he was considering it.

Silence meant that somewhere, buried in that impossibly mind of his, he had asked himself the same question she had:

What if?

What if Elain’s vision was true?

What if you had survived?

What if there was still some part of you out there, waiting in the dark?

The thought made her chest ache.

She ran a hand through her hair, laughing bitterly. “This is ridiculous. She would have come home.”

"Maybe she wouldn’t. Not if it would hurt Rhys. Not if it would hurt this court."

The words were so quiet, so carefully spoken, that it took her a moment to realize he had actually said them.

Mor’s stomach twisted.

"You think—" She shook her head. "No. No, Rhys would have felt it if she were alive. They’re minds were link—"

"That was only a thread," Azriel murmured. "And it can be severed. Blocked out. A wall as cold as death."

Mor went still.

"If there is even a chance Elain is right," Mor whispered, barely able to say it aloud, "we have to find out, Az. We have to know."

His shadows swirled, as if responding to her words.

A long silence stretched between them.

Then—Azriel exhaled, long and slow.

"There is a rumor…”

[rowretro]

𝕱𝖆𝖒𝖎𝖑𝖞 𝕱𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖓𝖉𝖑𝖞...

🂱warnings: yandere, kissing, blood, toxic themes, manipulative

🂱synopsis: y/n the sweetheart freshman that Riki has had a crush on for 3 years, fell victim to his sweet trap, his oh so friendly family appreciated her a little too much, no much more than Riki of course, and how could u possibly not fall forth man who admired your ballet passion?...

♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎

Y/n was there at 1 am on the rooftop yet again, her white leotard and perfectly flowing skirt unmatched by her tattered bloody white ballet shoes. Riki knew it was her escape, her escape from the craziness the world often brings. She left home thinking she'd find freedom, but still, she saw no sign of freedom. His sweet sweet princess has no better home than one with him. He is the perfect husband, his family willingly loving and caring for her as if she were their own. Riki smiled as he approached her, seeing she was done. "U still haven't given me an answer pretty girl... I'm done being ur friend I want to be your love." His voice echoed as she froze.

The girl turned back to look at him. Nishimura Riki, the one hot senior so many girls fawn over, who wouldn't, he has killer looks, the perfect body, the kind of waist women envy to have, but he does look absolutely unapproachable. in y/n's eyes, he's nothing but a rich entitled student, he gets into so many fights and still gets away with his violent behaviour. Without saying a word, y/n ran off, her little anklet charms hitting against each other, causing a fairly loud ringing echo across the area. Riki didn't chase after her. no, that's not how you catch a butterfly, by chasing after it it'll fly to extreme heights and escape. So he had a plan.

Y/n was blasting pussycat dolls in her earphones as she walked to her lesson, in the corner of her eye, she saw a woman waiting to cross the road with her. She was pretty observant of the random things, and in this case, her observance was a blessing. The woman clutched her chest, collapsing to the ground. The lights go from red to green, indicating to cross. She dialled the emergency number, holding the woman's hand, her head rested on y/n's backpack as she looked up at her, the look in her eyes despite the sharp pain she was experiencing in her chest, was very hopeful. This beautiful girl... Riki's crush, saved her life.

"I'm fine son, it was simply a minor attack..." Riki's mother said as she watched her son's brows furrow, as he washed the dishes in her place. "Don't go out for a while. get some rest, Mom, minor or not, I don't want to take any risks," he said, clearly worried, but his frown deepened when he turned to face her. It was as if her mind was somewhere else, a smile gracing her face "That girl... she saved me... perhaps it's a sign." she said as Riki rolled his eyes "Mom we've been through this I only w-" "y/n. Yang y/n." she cut him off as his annoyed expression was immediately replaced with a gummy smile, his mom's on board. This was going to be easy.

"Do my lips look too overlined?" y/n asks as she's looking in the mirror, fixing up her makeup. "Let's see?... no it looks cute," the girl said as she went back to scrolling through her phone. "I'm so glad you can make it to mine Kira, our schedules are so all over the place, I can't believe you're graduating soon" Y/n slightly pouts, side hugging her best friend. "Don't worry gurl, I'll be coming here more often after I graduate... anyways since we're catching up tell me. how are things with you and the loverboy?" Kira asks teasingly shaking her.

"I thought I told you, no matter how hard he tries, I'm just not going to date him. In the long run... I don't know if it'll work in the long run... he's sweet, gentle with me, always trying to treat me well, I know he's in love I can see that look in his eyes... but he's just... he seems dangerous, the violence, sure maybe it can be justified, but he looks so... psychotic when he beats them. that adoration replaced with an endless hole of darkness... what if we're married, get into a small argument and that's me he's beating up?" she rants as she turns to her best friend with a clearly hurt look.

It seems so easy, she's already liking Riki, heck she even made a scenario in her head of them being married. Kira sighed, ignoring the comments she made about her brother, and she patted her head. "Gurl you think too much, he's only beating the motherfuckers who hurt you, I mean if it wasn't for him, that dude, whatever his name is would've gotten away with ramming your car into a building, that man showed no guilt for almost killing you. He's psychotic. Focus on the good, he's always trying to be sweet always treating you, he knows your favourites, heck he even gave you his blood when you were lying in hospital... I just want the best for you" Kira said with a smile.

"Riki... I uhm... let's get some cake-" Y/n simply said. Her conversation with Kira led her to call the man the next day, so she could see if he was really worth it. "Anything for my everything" he said cheesily with a smile "You're so cheesy, imagine someone once campus heard you say that" she giggled as they walked to the little cute cafe. "All this I'd do anything for you, and you still don't want to have mint choco?" she taunted him as he frowned "mm yes chocolate cake so yummy isn't it my darling," he said with a smile, casually shoving a decent amount of cake into her mouth. Perhaps it would be lovely to be in a relationship with him.

The day went smoothly not one bad thing happened, his hand in hers, as they walked out of the park, not once was he acting too possessive, over her outfit, almost as though he appreciated the effort she put into her style. Not once did he complain about her ultra-high heels being hazardous in a park, or her outfit not being too cold-friendly, instead he gave her one of the many layers he was wearing. All he thought was "We'd be a very stylish couple" The better Kim and Kanye, back when they were in their "prime" at least.

However, it dawned on her when he took her to his home. A few weeks had passed before this. She felt like he was literally everything she needed in a man. Everything but the violence. The possessiveness and control over her friends, specifically male friends. When she'd talk to her best friend about it she'd side with him. Now she knows why. " I just want the best for you my best friend... and the best you could ever get is Riki for a boy friend, me as your best friend, and our parents as the sweetest in laws. don't fight it. they're better parents than yours would ever be." she simply said as she blocked the front door.

The whole family is in on this. Even her best friend. The girl she trusted with everything and anything, going behind her back and manipulating her like this. "Oh sweetheart, where are you off to? It's too late at night sweetheart, Me and Dad helped move all your things into Riki's room, if you need anything, you can ask us, or even the maids... we hope you feel at home here" that woman... the one who had a minor attack, the woman she saved. This is so fucking creepy.

Lying with Riki in what's now their bed, his plush full lips attacking her face every now and then, his arm around her waist, comfortingly stroking her, playing with her hair at times, his eyes looking at hers, and scrolling through his reels both at the same time. This felt so oddly safe. A best friend who protects her, a man who protects her, parents who care, a mother who does her hair gently, and a father who enjoys making dad jokes with her. This felt more like home than creepy. She's convinced that this. This is home.

At least for now...

♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎

A/n: ik these aren't the names of Riki's actual family, but I just didn't want to add their actual names, it felt weird for me, I hope u guys understand.

[orleans-jester]

Pierre Renault.

He may be dumb, sure. But he wasn’t entirely unintelligent. As he soaked in the tub with Zero, awaiting Piper and her grooves, smoking a blunt, he was coming to some realizations. It was hitting him, he just wasn’t reacting with the panic that one might think he would have, being in this new world.

The first thing that he was thinking of was that obviously, whatever he was doing wasn’t working out. The excess of his fan-girls coming to see him in Delta’s castle was what got him killed, according to Piper, but there had to be other factors there as well. The Delta and Frank that he knew would just dragon-out and kill anyone that was stupid enough to venture up the mountain to the castle. It would be an annoyance but they could get some fun out of it. So he had to be doing something else wrong. Could just be his personality. Could be the thoughts he had about the couple that Frank had picked up on because - well, they were plain hot. Period. He’d never been into the sado-masochism thing, his body is too much of a temple to just let anyone hurt him like that, but damn. Who wouldn’t want to be in the middle of that sandwich?

Along with that, he was realizing that whatever Pierre had been doing here, on this Earth, hadn’t worked out for him either, because he had been killed. He still didn’t have much information about that yet, not having much time to ask Piper about it, but he would need to know soon enough. He was walking in the same shoes, and needed to take a different path.

The second thing to consider was his own family. In the other timeline, his mother was alive. She had her problems, but she was alive. And his twin sister, of course, Agnes. Those strings were there, they were close in the other life. They took care of each other, despite not always getting along. And yet, when he had been pulled into this new life, they hadn’t been there. They hadn’t showed up. Surely, they would want to see their family member come back from the dead. So that was another big question mark lingering over his head as he took tokes from the joint, enjoying the warm jets against his back, the frothy water.

He hadn’t had the time to really think about what he was going to do now that he had dived head-first into this new world. But it was hitting him, slowly but surely. Nothing was going to fix what had gone wrong - except for him, if he tried. So though he was enjoying Zero’s company immensely, he did have a lot more to ask Piper once they were alone. He was thinking with his head, not with his dick for once.

The third thing to think about was how much he and Piper seemed to work. Did this mean that he was going to get all clingy on her, and be like Claudius, whom he didn’t know about? Not exactly. But something between them kept on going, kept on swimming, because she had brought him back. If he had to say who his best friend was, it was definitely her now. And he’d show his appreciation one way or another.

The weed was starting to take these thoughts away, make them all seem less serious. He was alive, man, and that was pretty fuckin’ sweet, actually. He was relaxed, chuckling slightly as he saw the collar around Zero’s neck. He playfully flicked the pumpkin-shaped tag, listened to the little jingle of the metal against metal. A finger against collar bone as his one arm was around Zero’s shoulders. “You never change, do you, pup?”

This was a good time, he knew, before all of the bullshit from his questions and his thoughts would come in, so he was enjoying it, laughing as Zero was looking all sad, all sorrowful. “Don’t pout, pup, I’m here now and I’m not going anywhere.”

Stroking up Zero’s shoulders, playing with the light blonde hairs. He was the aftercare guy, and there was a lot that he had to make up for. The collar might have been funny, with Zero being the pup and all, but the connotations weren’t always hilarious. Frankenstein was still around - that hadn’t changed between timelines.

Well, at least Piper would know that her Papa Cougs would approve of how she’s taking care of Claudius. Clopin never really liked the guy. But then again, he didn’t like most of the guys that sniffed around his daughter. He was a protective Papa, even more so because of what he had gone through to bring her into this world. She had her sexual freedom, he was encouraging of that, as long as she was safe of course, but the safety of these guys when she brought them home was a different story. If Claudius left - well, Clopin wouldn’t hesitate to make sure the door hit him in the ass on the way out.

There were snuggles going on in that whirlpool. Nose to nose affection, kissing, tasting. Pierre still smelt like the oils that Piper had rubbed into him in the other world, smelling of a different time, a different bath, his shoulders out of the water so it wasn’t washing off. His one and only link to the world and the life that he had known - he wasn’t in a rush to be washing it off. The cloying scent was surrounding him and Zero as they pet each other, touched each other.

Piper’s entrance didn’t go unnoticed. Pierre bit down on his lip and he leaned back against the lip of the tub as he saw her walk in, taking in the very form of her. Her shapes. Those curves. He might have a habit of calling everyone he was with a God or a Goddess but he definitely meant it with her.

“Lots of room,” He grinned.

"Aw, that's sweet of you." Piper didn't expect him to do anything to cater to her tastes, but the gesture was honestly touching either way.

Piper was letting him relax as if this was a big change for him, but the change hadn't seemed to hit him yet. She was seeing that, but that was okay. She was smart enough to realize once the ball dropped that life wasn't going to be exactly as it was in this timeline he'll start to appreciate the middle ground hotel space all the more for what it really was.

The texts were rolling in and out like clockwork for Piper while Pierre got the weed rolled and ready with Zero. The tunes were going to be left for Piper.

"Sounds good to me." Zero had no qualms with that idea.

His eyes were too busy taking in the long-lost sight of his aftercare guy as the familiar but also missed vision stepped into the tub. The lean frame so bare, casual, and confident brought the blonde's anxious energy right into his core center and there was no calling what Zero had a half-chub through that crystal clear bath water with no bubbles. The only thing that rivaled the vibrancy of his arousal was the pink of surgical scars, the countless staple lines over multiple old incisions.

A couple days for Pierre - Far more than a year for Zero. He'd lost count. He avoided thinking about it so it wouldn't hurt so much. After everything that had happened in this timeline, coming this far, to make this much progress, to be at this point, where they were this good with each other again, to even consider getting bare or physical, it was a big step.

The only thing Zero had on his person while Pierre blew the smoke besides a smile was Dr. Frankenstein's pumpkin shaped dog tag around his neck. They were back to that. Zero's mind that never seemed to want to evolve forward too much less he regress had a pattern to his reanimation. Victor still seemed to know how best to take care of it.

But, that said, as history repeats, and Zero evolves and regresses, he was here in his pattern with Pierre. For a pattern repeater having Pierre helped him feel good in his placement in his own cycle. Things felt right again as Pierre put his arm around him. Zero leaned into it. This was a sanctuary of it's own kind.

"Mm. I missed this." Hands were quickly on Pierre's chest. There was a sad sentimental affection in Zero's eyes. "I missed it so, so, so much."

Then he plucked the joint and took his own puff, puff. Then he passed it back. When he blew it out he said, "I can't believe this is really happening."

He almost sounded like a girl in love about to do it for the first time, but that wasn't the case here. There was history. If he was a dog his tail would be wagging from anxious excitement. Thank goodness Whirlpool was just a brand name and not what Zero was making in the water by his excitement getting the better of him. He was managing to contain his energy and wasn't spinning circles. It was all in the rapid breathing in his chest and how his hands spared no heed in relearning the angles of Pierre's body from the curve of his neck to the curves of his hips and the soft of his belly. That kind of touching Zero had no containment for.

"A year should never come between me and my after care guy ever again." If he thought Zero wasn't acting chill in some way he'd get his answer there. It'd been way too long. Pierre had been missed.

Piper sat out in the other room hearing the water slosh. She had gotten to the bottom of her list and almost everyone had texted back. She had one last person she was deciding whether or not to text.

Claudius.

There was something in his face she hated.

Claim.

Claudius knew her better than that.

If it was Seven in the tub with Pierre she wouldn't have hesitated, but since it was Zero she was giving him some time alone first out of respect to his preferences and history with the guy. She knew given her part to play she'd have plenty of time with Pierre. So, she took her time with the texting. Plus, the Claudius situation was fragile. Sure, she could easily end things and he'd live with Friar Tuck and the Minstrel in the Cathedral. His life would go on as the last of the living Merry Men devout to Delta because that's what they all do. But those annoying strings Bastien hated so much gave her and Lord Claudius history. She knew she lied to him tonight. She lied to a lot of people, her Papas mostly who always worried about her omissions and scheming.

Ugh.

Claudius's text was different than the others. They were close enough that he'd already acused her of this. She denied it. So she was lingering in how to handle him. Telling him like it is was her go to.

Piper: You were right. I did it. I brought Pierre back. Piper: But the devil didn't make me do it. Piper: don't blame him. Piper: You know he loves you more than me. Piper: If you want to blame me. blame me. But leave him out of this. That's dangerous Piper: He'll always adore you. But I'm fickle as fuck Piper: The devil will adore you to Hell and back. My heart's an hourglass. I've told you before. I will not tell you again. I don't know what it would take for someone to get my glass to stop turning. Maybe no one ever will. So, I don't know why you looked at me that way. With disappointment. With claim. Piper: Don't ever try to guilt me again. You can be the Devil's Rocky. His blond man with a tan and my soldier when I need one. You really need to work on the tan though. The gold uniform fits so great. You never forget to put it on the second we get upstairs and start your work out for me to watch as I relax in my winding down hour. Squats of perfection. Biceps are never amiss. But today was out of line. Either you can handle the position, or you can't. The Devil's going to be really upset if I have to fire you. You know how he is. Fix it. Piper: You shall never react to PDA ever again. You shall stand tall and proud of who you I let you be. Trying to guilt me only makes you look ashamed of yourself. I won't have it. If you can fix yourself, be in uniform at standard time. If you come back and one toe gets out of line your permanent outplacement plan will have no severance, and you'll understand who the real devil is. Piper: Groove on

Then she shut her phone off refusing to be bothered by his answers or explanations. She didn't want to read his carrying-ons.

Then she went to the mini bar and served herself a drink. She blazed up a joint on her own and sat down at the vanity as she partook. The on again off again relationship that kept carrying on between her and Claudius was a tangled web and it amused Delta to no end. Every time he was sent back to stay at the cathedral she would go and get all the dirty details of their weird relationship, and it was one of the more interesting ones around. It didn't thrive on daisy chains or love me - love me nots. Delta liked tuning in for the toxic soap opera between two very powerful beings that were inadvertently loyal to her and kept seeing Feral as base when they were playing hide and seek from one another.

Piper let her hair down, recalibrated her system as she smoked, touched up the faintest bit of make-up with some waterproof, and slipped out of her glimmery dress from the ball. She was in sleek black with deep golden accents underneath. She pinned on some straps for her entrance even though she'd be taking them off soon enough because why not? She loved a good entrance. Plus, all this vanity gave Pierre and Zero their time. She was selfish in her own ways, but kind.

So, as she got stoned herself her groove magic slipped on without knowing Pierre was going to leave the music to her. It was loud enough to be heard in the bathroom. The thing about Piper getting stoned and being in the mood she was in, a very particular sort of mood, mixed with the calm had a way of bringing out a very particular playlist. It was a vibe. So, it was low key and smooth with a gravitational pull in all the songs. Still, the lyrics and bands had themes and were very Piper lyrically. They could be sway-able, dance-able, with a snark in them, but also with a twist up self-empowerment and uplift, or misunderstood songs. Very Piper. They were her chill songs to be stoned to.

Wake Up - Kowloon - lyrics

Tops - Way to Be Loved - lyrics

Dream Machine by Mark Farina - lyrics

Ect....

This was the genre. It would go on for some time as she prepped. Zero and Pierre time. Piper alone time. The way she liked it.

When she stepped silently in the door way with no words for an introduction no matter what Pierre and Zero were in the middle of nearly a half an hour later she'd lean there, long body dark, waiting to be noticed as she continued to smoke taking her drag and leaving her body open for open golden-ebony view by lowering her arm to her waist after. Sensual. Carefree. Enjoying the view of those two pretty boys. As for groove when she stood in the doorway.

Empire of The Sun - Way to Go

Surfing the snow Are you ready for A revolution to show the way Seven whole weeks until the day

Because heartbreak's coming to bend us the wrong way Praise us, memory will change it into old things

Doesn't matter what's tripping you out, there's ways to go This is where we get carried away enough to start again

While hearts beat It's nothing like before Dreaming is the home of the brave Future is the healing of pain

Because heartbreak's coming to bend us the wrong way Praise us, memory will change it into old things

Doesn't matter what's tripping you out, there's ways to go This is where we get carried away enough to start again Doesn't matter what's tripping you out, there's ways to go This is where we get carried away enough to start again

Like a cannonball shot across the floor We have found a way through the darkest hour Like a cannonball shot across the floor We have little time for worry

Doesn't matter what's tripping you out, there's ways to go This is where we get carried away enough to start again Doesn't matter what's tripping you out, there's ways to go This is where we get carried away enough to start again Doesn't matter what's tripping you out, there's ways to go This is where we get carried away enough to start again

[rosemaryhoney27]

Vlad's Mistaken Capture part 7

Vlad Masters was so tired.

He had kidnapped Jason Todd seven times.

Seven.

That was more than half the times he had tried to kidnap Daniel.

At this point, he had lost the will to scream.

After the last attempt, where he had once again ended up with both Jason and Bruce Wayne, he had decided to quit. At least for a little while. Maybe a week. A month, if he was lucky.

So here he was, in yet another abandoned warehouse, sighing as he turned to leave.

And that was when the door creaked open.

Vlad blinked.

Jason, still tied up and thoroughly entertained, turned his head and—

Oh.

Oh.

Jason grinned so wide it had to be illegal.

Because standing there, looking like he had just witnessed the dumbest thing in existence, was Danny Fenton.

The real one.

The one Vlad had been trying to kidnap this entire time.

Danny stared.

Jason turned back to Vlad. "Hey, buddy. Guess what?"

Vlad didn’t respond.

Danny crossed his arms, fixing Vlad with a level, unimpressed glare.

"...Seriously?" Danny asked, voice flat.

Vlad flinched.

Danny gestured vaguely to Jason, who was just vibrating with laughter at this point. "Seven times, Vlad? Seven?"

Vlad wanted to argue. He wanted to shout, to defend himself, to explain that he had been trying his best, that he had been so sure this whole time.

Instead, he just stood there, defeated. "I… I don’t want to talk about it."

Jason howled.

Danny just sighed, rubbing his temples. "Dude. Get glasses."

Jason fell over laughing.

Vlad twitched. "My eyesight is perfectly fine!"

Danny raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? Then explain this." He waved at Jason.

Jason grinned, still sprawled on the floor. "Yeah, Vlad. Explain."

Vlad let out a long, deep groan. "I hate Gotham."

Danny snorted. "Yeah? Well, Gotham hates you back."

Jason gave Danny a fist bump.

Danny sighed again. "C’mon, let’s get outta here before the Bats show up."

Jason grinned. "Oh, they’re already outside."

Vlad, feeling his entire soul leave his body, phased through the floor without another word.

Danny watched him go, shaking his head. "Wow. That was pathetic."

Jason stretched. "Yeah, but funny pathetic."

Danny rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, let’s go before Bruce gives you the 'I’m not mad, just disappointed' look."

Jason shuddered. "Too late for me, man. Way too late."

As they walked outside, Danny side-eyed Jason. "So, uh… do I wanna know why you let yourself get kidnapped seven times?"

Jason smirked. "Dude. It was hilarious."

Danny groaned. "You need better hobbies."

Jason just grinned.

Meanwhile, miles away, Vlad was screaming into a pillow.

One day…

One day, he would win.

…Maybe.

[barksenji]

Even thought it's pretty common in fanon, it's hard for me to imagine Horror as a hungry beast of some sort. To me, his eating would be clearly disordered, both because of trauma and guilt.

So, of course, I decided to write about it. Feel free to give it a read. TW for ED-like thoughts.

It's Only a Bottle.

Guilt.

Although he had long since grown accustomed to feeling it, it was still foreign. A part of him wanted to believe that none of it was his fault, that he had merely been a victim of circumstance. But another part of him—his more rational self—truly bore the weight of his actions.

And that was why, even though the sight of a full plate of food would have made anyone in his state happy, it only made him nauseous. It had been so long since he had seen "real" food, this almost seemed alien.

The smell of the steaming meat made his stomach growl, yet he hesitated with the fork.

The familiar sensation began clawing at his gut, more painful than hunger. He wanted to take a bite, but at the same time, he would rather die than do so. The aroma was so similar to...

"Not gonna eat?" asked a voice barely louder than a whisper. "You don't seem like the type to waste food."

Horror shot him a sideways glance.

"I'm a little busy right now. Can I ignore you some other time?"

Dust just chuckled and sat beside him. Without paying much attention to Horror, he started eating.

Back then, he had been too caught up between resets and voices to care for food. Reminding himself of its wonders was a pleasure.

So, the clinking of utensils against plates filled the room. Horror didn't even dare cut into the meat—it was disgusting. The raw redness inside, the sound of it tearing under the knife, the thought of putting it in his mouth.

His glowing pupils shifted toward Dust, who seemed completely indifferent to those details. Horror scowled at the mixture of envy and disgust roiling inside him. He didn't notice when Dust met his gaze.

"...Are you vegan?"

"...What?"

Dust pointed at Horror's plate with his fork. "The meat's not gonna bite you, bud."

An awkward silence settled between them.

"What I mean is, uh... I can eat it if you want."

Horror could have handed him the whole plate right then and there. Just looking at it made him sick. But, giving food to this bastard? Hell no.

"Yeah, sure, fatass. If you get any heavier, you'll be going on missions in a mobility scooter."

Dust clutched his chest dramatically, gasping. "I'm not fat! I'm just big boned."

"Oh please. I know three fat guys and you are four of them. If anyone ever gets close to you it's only because they can't break orbit."

"Yeah, well, your mom needs to stop feeding me every time we meet up."

They stared at each other for a few seconds... before bursting into laughter.

Yeah, yeah. They hated each other, or whatever. But there's no better humor than your own.

"But seriously, I can leave you the veggies if that's what you want. Or you could even get something else. That's the one good thing about this pigsty."

Horror's smile vanished as he drummed his fingers anxiously on the table. The thing was, while removing the meat would definitely help, there was something else about the food that didn't sit right with him.

He had held back for years, ignoring the growls of his stomach and the pounding headaches... He hated to admit it, but he had gotten used to that kind of suffering.

It is what it is. He had brought this upon himself—and upon everyone else, too. It wasn't just some small, stupid mistake... No, he had fucked up big time, and fate had let him off easy.

And now he was here, making everything even worse in an attempt to fix the mess he had started, working for a sociopath with a plate full of food in exchange for his hands stained with dust.

"Uh... So?"

It didn't matter what he ate. The textures always melted into something disgusting and made him nauseous. Funny, considering he was a skeleton.

Then there was the fact that he had grown weaker as his body rotted without nourishment. Broken bones were useless in battle. Nightmare would force-feed him, or-more likely-he'd just get rid of him and find someone less troublesome to deal with.

He had to eat something. Gross.

He let out a tense sigh. "Eat it all if you want, starving rat. I'm gonna get ketchup. Just... just that."

Dust raised an eyebrow.

"Ketchup? Nothing else? Not...?"

"I don't have the time or the crayons to explain it to you, buddy."

Before Dust could come up with a witty response, Horror got up and walked away from the table. He'd like to say he was mad at Dust, but—why, exactly? he was pissed at himself.

So he was mad at Dust, because technically, they were the same person. Only, it was easier to be mad at Dust because at least he hadn't reached... that point.

Of course, it was all Queen Undick's fault, right? That he had become this. He couldn't eat because no food in the world could erase the smell of human flesh from his head.

But beneath his anger, there was a steady stream of thoughts, just loud enough to be heard through his rage. Ideas that tore deep into what was left of his mind, even if subconscious.

"You destroyed the Core beyond repair, genius. Your temper tantrum took everyone else down with you."

He shook his head at the fleeting idea. He had done what he had to do. He had been forced to. If they had listened to him and dismantled the Core, this wouldn't have happened. Damn it, his fucking "friends" tried to kill him!

Deep down, he knew the thoughts were true. But a thick layer of denial protected him. It wasn't his fault. He hadn't doomed the people of Snowdin. He hadn't doomed his brother.

No.

He wasn't like Dust.

~~~

Between the insomnia and the nightmares, Horror had no desire to sleep. However, the ceiling wasn't the most exciting sight, especially in the dead of night. So, naturally, he sought entertainment in the depths of his own mind.

The thing is, his head, while deep, was anything but entertaining, and if there was anything more annoying than his thoughts, it was his body.

In the end, he settled for eating nothing. He couldn't deal with the implication—whatever that meant—of eating. He'd sip a bottle of ketchup now and then, that he could handle, but tonight, he didn't even have the guts for that.

Something about the smell of the meat, the grease dripping from it, the way its juices stained the plate—it ruined everything.

But his body disagreed. He was so hungry he wanted to tear his own bones apart. By now, he was sure no one knew hunger like he did—a desperate, overwhelming feeling that clouded your thoughts and possessed you.

He curled into a fetal position, clutching his stomach as his thoughts grew more stern than before. While his body screamed for food, his mind reminded him that he wasn't going to get a single meal.

He had spent years starving. It had become a part of him-his punishment, his penance. The reflection of the sins crawling up his back. Because unlike Dust, he was still a judge, and he had sentenced himself accordingly.

He might be a sadistic bastard, but at least he was fair when it mattered. This was—

The sound of the door opening yanked him from his thoughts. Instinctively, his head snapped toward the entrance.

He relaxed slightly upon recognizing the figure, though he'd rather die than admit it.

"Dust? What are you doing up at this hour?" he asked. Though he probably already knew the answer.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

Dust stepped inside, the dim hallway light barely illuminating his features. Horror noticed the red bottle resting in his hands, and Dust caught his curious glance.

"This?" Dust gestured toward it. "I noticed you didn't eat anything, so I thought... y'know, I'd bring you something."

Horror's expression faltered for a moment. The gesture was almost... nice. But his surprise quickly twisted into a scowl.

"Does it look like I need your pity, fuckface?"

The silence stretched between them. Then Dust rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah. Keep rolling your eyes—maybe you'll find a brain back there."

"Look, pal... I just don't want you screwing us over, okay? This affects your performance in battle, which affects mine."

Dust walked over to the nightstand next to Horror's bed and placed the ketchup bottle on top.

"I'm not dying because of you."

Horror sneered. Who did this jerk think he was, his boss? He was barely distinguishable from a hobo.

"Dust, if it ever seems like I care, please tell me. I wouldn't want to give the wrong impression."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say. Good night, Sans. Hope you dream about me." He scoffed.

And with that, Dust left, shutting the door behind him.

...

"... Damn it, he even pulled my legal name. What an asshole."

Horror stared at the nightstand, biting his nonexistent lip. God, he was hungry.

He hesitated. Drinking it felt like giving in to Dust's demands, and he would never.

Plus, the image of the meat was still too vivid in his mind...

But.

He was hungry.

So, so hungry.

His hands hesitated, but, in the end, he reached out for the bottle. It doesn't matter. Dust wasn't going to find out anyway...

It was only one bottle.

Only a bottle.

[another-clive-blog]

Why are we as a fandom not talking more about this scene ??

Clive is literally asking the professor to come back and stop him. Like this isn't him pretending to be Future Luke : he looks genuinely upset/displeased even after the professor promises to come back. He only goes back to smiling after the professor says, and I quote "I wouldn't dream of leaving things here in that state" before talking about stopping his future self. Clive wants confirmation that Layton is actually going to confront the bad guys, that he won't just solve the mystery but fix it too.

And this is literally so important. Clive's speech at the end, about getting saved. This is concrete proof that he had truly meant it from the start, because he's asking for Layton to stop him and thus save everyone here. Which, hey- he didn't just hope and wait to get saved, he tried to save himself too.

Yep, that's right. The game talks about how dangerous it was for Clive to bring Layton underground : it doesn't talk about how even more dangerous it was to let him leave. He could have brought back cops (he did). He could have gathered precious knowledge out there (he did). He could have never come back (and yet he did !!). Clive letting Layton leave is the biggest threat to his plan, and yet HE DID. And you know what else he did ? Make Layton promise to stop him. You can't make a clearer call for help, you just can't.

"Oh but it doesn't make his crimes more forgivable, now does it-" of course not. This isn't about Clive's redemption, it's about Clive trying to avoid needing a redemption : his efforts are vain the moment he started using the fortress. But. There were efforts.

[pearlymel]

Absolute Zeal

Sum. It was finally your turn to take care of your boyfriend, until everything twists around and you both end up a mess.

Warnings. NSFW, smut, fem reader, whiney zayne yes, unprotected sex, rough sex kinda, fluff. 2.2k words.

Notes. my exams are not stopping me (yet) from releasing yet another feral zayne.

Your boyfriend was absolutely out of it.

It wasn't long before Zayne noticed the effects of the chocolate, a slow warmth coursing through his veins, a slight sluggishness creeping into his movements.

He grinned lazily at you as you helped him outside, a slight wobble to his step. You were struggling, sure. But you kept up the tough act.

The cool air outside seemed to help clear his head a bit, but he was still far from sober, "my hero," he said, his voice still slightly slurred, "taking me home in my... slightly tipsy state. You're too kind.”

“Mhm, careful as you get in.” you instruct and Zayne obliges as he stumbled into the taxi, slumping against the back seat, trying to steady himself.

His gaze remained fixed on you as you climbed into the taxi after him. His eyes roamed over your face, “thank you," he murmured, "for taking care of me tonight.”

A hand smoothens to his cheek, up to his hair to comb it with your fingers before you tilt your head to peck his cheek, your hand encouraging him to rest on your shoulder.

He closed his eyes, a contented sigh escaping him, feeling safe and cared for in your presence.

…

“wake up, honey.” you whisper into Zayne's ear to wake him up from his light slumber. His eyes blinking slowly to get back to his senses.

He leaned against you heavily, allowing you to guide him out of the taxi, a quiet murmur of thanks escaping him.

The taxi driver watched the whole interaction silently after you payed him. ah, the young. "I miss my wife." He sighed to himself before driving off.

Meanwhile, you were pitifully watching Zayne entering the wrong passcode to his own home.

His fingers fumbled against the keypad as he tried to input his passcode, his normally steady hands betraying his current inebriated state. He let out a frustrated grunt, his brows furrowing in concentration as he tried again.

"Just... need to get this thing right..."

"Let the person who actually remembers the passcode of your home to enter it." you successfully entered the passcode, the lock clicking open with a satisfying sound.

Zayne let himself be led onto the plush couch by you after taking off his coat for more movement, a deep sigh escaping him as though he were sinking into heaven itself.

He let his eyes close briefly, revelling in the comfort of the soft cushions. He cracked one eye open lazily, a soft chuckle escaping him as he watched you fuss over his coat, gently removing it and draping it on the back of a nearby chair.

And with a gentle tug, he pulled you down onto the couch with him, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close.

You frown, “i should go get the hangover medicine—”

But his arm tightened around your waist in protest, pulling you closer to him before you could move. "No need," he shook his head, his voice huskier now. "Stay with me," he whispered, his voice low, filled with a yearning that went beyond simple physical attraction.

"After i get the medicine, hm? You'll regret it later," though he seemed too insistent. You couldn't budge, even when he was drunk, his strength was impressive.

Zayne groaned softly, his grip on you unrelenting. He rested his head on your shoulder, his face nuzzling against your neck, "later,"

"how much more?" you ask, your fingers tracing his jawline to sort of soothe him.

He drew in a slow, steady breath, his body relaxing against you. "Just a moment more like this."

Zayne leaned into your touch, his head slightly tilting as though seeking more of your caress. His arm around your waist remained securely wrapped, holding you close, holding you like you were a precious treasure, something to be cherished.

You continue caressing his skin, moving down to his messed up buttons and tie, making him flutter his eyes shut.

Despite the alcohol, a part of him was still very much aware, very much receptive to your touch. The way you undressed him, unbuttoning his shirt to help him breathe better, felt like a gentle, loving caress.

This is no good. “On a second thought, I'll just shower," he said, attempting to smooth out his disheveled hair. "A shower will help clear my head.” Zayne stood up after taking his arms away from your body, a bit unsteady on his feet, but adamant to make it to the shower on his own. He staggered slightly, leaning against the nearest wall for support.

…

You head to Zayne's study room in the meantime to explore it a bit out of curiosity while the shower is running in the background. Your fingertips brushed over the snowman displayed on the desk neatly which makes your lips curve.

It was not long after until you hear him in the living room, opening his laptop to answer an urgent call. Listening to him speak a few words. Even in this state, Dr Zayne is working hard.

Once the call ends, you show yourself from your hiding spot, “Even Dr Zayne's showers are hurried.” you comment in amusement.

Zayne's lips quirked into a wry smile as he acknowledged your observation. "In my profession, efficiency is key," he replied, “but," he added, his tone softening slightly as he drew closer, "I can assure you, I wasn't rushing for anyone else but you." He reached out to tenderly cup your cheek, his touch gentle but firm.

“It seems that.. The shower did not clear your head.”

"I suppose," he murmured, "you're quite intoxicating even without the alcohol.”

Zayne's next sudden advance caught you by surprise.

The unexpected aggression of pulling your arm towards him made you gasp. But as his lips pressed hard against yours, a surprised sound escaping your lips before you clung to him tightly, your arms wrapping around his neck as you returned the kiss, matching his hunger with your own.

Your fingers tangled in his hair while his hands cupped your cheeks, pushing you back until you were stumbling against his desk where he caught you in time to prevent you from completely losing your balance.

His glasses steamed slightly with each gasping breath. He looked down at you once your lips part, his eyes darkening until your fingers nudged at his glasses which tipped them over slightly, yet Zayne impatiently brushed aside your hand's attempt to fix his glasses and instead took his glasses off in one swift motion.

Hot.

His lips sought yours once more, his kiss hungrier, more urgent than before as he pushed you back against his desk. The sound of books and papers scattering echoed and falling with a loud thud that you couldn't seem to care about for now.

His lips traced a path down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin there, and your chew slightly on your lower lip. His teeth nip along your collarbone, his tongue soothing the slight sting, then repeating the action again and again.

This won't do.

"… You're drunk," you bluntly state, trying to stand from the desk to walk towards the drawer, "I'm getting the hangover medicine—"

His hands darted out to grab your wrists, gently yet firmly, preventing you from moving any further, “please." His grip on your wrists remained steady, his thumbs stroking the insides of your wrists as he leaned against your chest as if you just rejected him.

“I never let myself touch alcohol,” he breathed heavily, and that's when you recognize the slight snowflakes surrounding you both.

“But for you, I broke that rule. Because of you, everything is spiraling out of control...”

…

Zayne kicked open his bedroom door, the force of it slamming against the wall and bouncing back slightly. Without breaking the heated kiss, he carried you to his king-sized bed, the plush comforter and silken sheets welcoming as he lays you down gently.

His hands were almost shaking when he pulled your top off and tossed it carelessly to the floor. His fingertips traced the swell of your breasts, the delicate curves, before cupping them gently.

He dipped his head, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat before he's almost whimpering while rubbing his cheek against your cleavage, the warmth seeping through your skin and it's impossibly hard to stop the soft moans when his fingertips brush mindlessly along your nipples.

You were both almost a panting mess when his hands slid down to your hips, gripping them tightly as he ground his own against yours. Even through the fabric of his pants, you could feel the evidence of his arousal, the hard length of him pressing and rubbing against your clothed cunt with such hurry.

"Wrap your legs around me," he commanded, his voice low, almost raspy before he's kissing you messily, all tongue and teeth clashing together combined with his quiet whines when he continues rutting into you.

His body shifts, an arm extending towards the drawer but you stop himself from taking anything out, grabbing his hand and intertwining your fingers together instead.

He feels dizzy, and his hand squeezes yours before his other hand reaches for a pillow to place underneath your hips.

comfort comes first before he starts pounding into you.

Everything was gone. your panties, his belt and boxers all discarded away from his sight while he whispers your name as he grips his shaft to push his already leaking tip into your cunt to take whole.

“O-oh zayne—” A long, drawn-out moan spilled from your lips as Zayne filled you completely, stretching you around his hard, throbbing length. Your back arched off the bed, pressing your chest flush against his own, fingers digging into the muscular expanse of his back.

He was feral. He began to move, pulling nearly all the way out before slamming back in, setting a rough, fast paced.

The bed creaked beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall with each thrust, and your eyes roll all the way back as whines combined with his heavy breaths and whimpers fill the air.

“A-ah, fuck, honey—” was all you managed to spill out before he's thrusting into you harder when he felt every clench and flutter around his aching cock, the velvet heat driving him to new heights of ecstasy.

“Zayne, zayne, zayne!” you chant in repeat breathlessly, his lips tries to connect with yours when he also feels his impending release drawing too close.

“Y-your zayne is here—” he practically breathes out as he manages to peck your lips, “Mmhn c-coming—” Zayne tries to muffle his whines against your skin when his hips jerked erratically as he emptied himself inside you, wave after wave of searing hot seed spilling into you.

The feeling of Zayne's thick, pulsing cock throbbing and twitching within you made you cum instantly. Your walls clamped down around him like a vice as you rode out your shared climax, hips continuing to rock slowly into you before coming to a halt.

For a moment, there was silence, broken only by the sound of your shared breaths, the rustle of sheets, the soft thump of his heart against yours.

…

You woke up in Zayne's bed, wrapped in his arms, a soft, contented sigh escaping you as you shifted slightly, feeling his warmth against your back.

The sunlight streamed in through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. As you turned to face him, you see zayne breathe peacefully, and it brings a faint smile to your face.

He looked younger, almost boyish in sleep, his lashes casting delicate shadows on his cheeks.

His eyelashes are really long. you think, fingertips brushing over his eyelids delicately.

Zayne's eyelids soon fluttered at the light touch of your fingers, and a low, appreciative hum escaped him. He leaned into your touch, seeking more of your warmth and comfort.

Slowly, his eyes opened, a sleepy, warm look in them as he regarded you with a slow, drowsy smile. "Good morning, love,"

[lostalioth]

𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡

→ premise: logan was obsessed, he was from the moment he met you. he didn’t get crushes, but you’ve turned the big bad wolverine into a depraved puppy and he’s had enough.

→ pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader

→ warnings: 2k words, smut | 18+, obsession [not dark, just like a big crush, idk how to actually write obsession well], belly bulge, unprotected sex, nicknames [baby, princess, pretty girl], creampie, I visualized like x1-3 logan when writing but you can imagine whichever logan era.

→ a/n: kinktober 09

Logan was utterly obsessed, entranced by your entire being. If he didn’t already know what your mutation was, he'd swear you were a witch that cast a love spell on him so he goes starry eyed and dulcet when you walk in a room. He wasn't the kind of man to get crushes, he did one night stands to satiate his needs and yet now he can't bring himself to want anybody but you.

You and your pretty eyes that sparkle when you look at him and flutter your eyelashes to get what you want. You and your tendency to brush against him or run your hand down his arm when you walk around him making his brain go fuzzy and getting him all flustered. The whole team could see how smitten and enthralled he was with you, mocking him and calling him a love sick puppy especially when you go away on mission and he mopes around the mansion. He’s had enough of the little flirting back and forth and nothing coming of it, he was desperate for you and his crush was only getting stronger as the months went on.

You had just gotten back from a short mission with Storm and Jean when before you could even say hi to everybody Logan is grabbing your hand and pulling you away down the hall. “eh- hey! Lo slow down” you squeal out as he drags you along behind him, heart racing at the feeling of his fingers intertwined with your own. The nickname you've resorted to calling him as the two of you have gotten closer makes his ears ring. He loved when you called him Lo you were the only one allowed to, anybody else who tired got glared at.

“Need to talk to ya’ now, right now” he grumbled out, his signature, you swore permanent grumpy scowl plastered on his face. He continues to tug you down the long hall towards your bedroom. Your eyebrows knit together in confusion at where he's taking you. Pushing open your door, he turns around and yanks you inside. Shutting the door, his body now facing you. His grip on your hand is still tight, he didnt wanna let go especially not when you haven't said anything about the fact he’s practically holding your hand.

“What is it? Is everything okay Lo?” You question in that sweet concerned voice you give him when he tells you he didn't sleep well because of another nightmare. “Do you want me?” He blurts out so fast the words practically blend together. You think you hear his question and it makes your head spin in more confusion but you needed him to repeat it. “What’d you say” you question as your gaze stays fixed on Logan, his own glued to your face watching for reactions. Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves he starts again “Do you want me?” He questions in a slower softer tone.

Now your head really was spinning and slick settled in your core at his wording, he wasn't asking if you liked him, no he was asking if you WANTED him. your eyes that were on him are now darting around the room like it's the most fascinating thing. Through the fogginess of your brain all you can manage to eat out is a “What..?”

Pushing forward Logan backs your body up against your shut bedroom door, his frame looming over you and blocking you in. The hand that is not entangled with yours comes up to your chin to grab it and make you look at him. “Do. You. Want. Me? I'm not repeatin’ myself again pretty girl” he growls out, punching out each word of his question. He was losing his patience especially after the sweet scent of your arousal fills his nostrils and makes his cock twitch. “Cause i want you princess, have wanted you for fuckin’ months. And it's killing me, you’re killin’ me pretty girl” he groans out in frustration.

“Do you even know what you do to me? What my crush on you is doin’ to me princess? All our flirting and lingering looks, everybody always mocking me for how I act round you” he continues to ramble on, pulling your face closer to his as he waits on an answer to at least one of his questions.

“Yes..i want you Lo” you mumble out breathlessly and low. A big lopsided smirk spreads on Logan’s face as your words register in his head. “What was that baby?” He teases, needing you to repeat it just so he can hear it again.

“I want you Logan, really fucking bad” you whine out as your core aches for attention, your hips gravitate towards his to push against him. “Shit- fuck it” he groans out and grabs ahold of your waist and crashes his lips agaisnt yours, he knew the two of you should’ve gone back to the team. You needed to give Charles a debrief of the mission but Logan could care less at the moment. You kiss him with the same amount of passion and fever as your arms wrap around his neck pressing your chest to his. You hum and moan into the kiss sending vibrations through Logan’s body and straight to his confined cock that was begging to be released. “Jump and wrap ya’ legs around me baby” he instructed, his words mumbled against your lips but clear enough for you to understand. Jumping up a bit, Logan catches you by grabbing onto your ass as your legs wrapped around his waist. “Atta girl princess” you smile against his lips at the praise while he walks the two of you over to your plush bed.

Laying you down on your back, he keeps his body between your spread thighs as his mouth pulls away from yours and drifts down to kiss at your neck. His hard cock pressed right up against your leaking cunt in this position, his large hands rubbing and groping all over your body. Running over your hips and waist, palming over your tits and grabbing at your ass, anywhere his hands can reach, indulging in the fact you're allowing him to touch you like this. “Mhmm Lo, baby please i need you” you whine out and buck your hips against his, grinding your core against his bulge. “Yeah? Whatcha need baby? Huh princess? Use your words” he doesnt pull away from your neck, continuously kissing it and along your collarbones and chest as you were wearing a low cut top, even sucking and biting at your skin to form hickeys.

”Need you, need you to fuck me Lo please” you whimper out and tug at the wasit band of his jeans as well as push up at his white tank top. “Yeah i can do that baby fuck” he grunts out and sucks in a breath, a shiver going down his back when you strach at his lower stomach and happy trail. The feeling of your hands on his bare skin makes his body tingle and skin feel on fire.

His movements are frantic as he is quick to strip off his shirt and yours. Pulling your pants down and off your legs alongside your panties, leaving your bare pussy exposed to the cool air. “Oh fuck~ shes so pretty” he mumbled out under his breath seemingly to himself, you werent sure if it was aimed at your cunt or you. in his haste he just barely pushes his jeans and boxers down enough to free his cock. His throbbing cock springs free, making you gasp at his size, he didn't feel nearly as big when it was hidden as he looks now. His cock long and so deliciously thick that it has your mouth watering wanting a taste. You knew your jaw would burn to accommodate his size; you couldn't imagine your cunt fitting him. “Lo i don't know if it’ll fit” you whine out, looking into his lust blown eyes with concern.

“Pretty girl if you’re as wet as ya’ smell i’ll slip right in” he chuckles softly, grabbing himself at the base and nudging his mushroom tip to open your slit and rub it through your soaked folds. Your slick collects and mixes with the precum leaking from his cock lubing up his shaft and tip. Your hole clenches around nothing everytime he brushes over it making your hips twitch and thrust up trying to get him to push inside already.

“Mmm Lo..please just fuck me already” you whine out and squirm. His brows furrowed in concentration, gaze locked on where your bodies meet, trying his hardest not to already blow his load as he lines his tip up at your entrance. Just rubbing over your pussy with his cock was causing his balls to tighten, your pussy felt heavenly and addicting. This moment was 10 times better than any of the hundreds of wet dreams he had late at night where he’d wake up with a wet spot forming in his sweats.

He lets out a broken gasp that morphs into a string of curses when he finally slowly pushes into the wet heat of your cunt. “Oh fuck~ shes already squeezin’ me so tight baby” he grunts as he finally bottoms out buried to the hilt, his hips wasting no time in finding a rymth and thrusting deep inside you. the sting of your pussy stretching to take his cock makes your head go hazy, eyes screwing shut in bliss.

You clench around him and Logan cant stop himself from thrusting harder and faster, a slurred pussy-drunk mess of sentences fall from his mouth.

“Fuck youre so hot princess, s’good for me” “Cant believe ya’ letting me do this to you, fuckin’ you like this” “Dreamt’ bout’ this for so long, been fuckin’ obsessed with ya’ for forever” he whines out in a long run on setenace as his hips slam against yours, the filthy squelching sound of your cunt and your moans and whimpers fill the air in your room. You didn't care that you were being loud enough that anyone who walked past your door would definitely hear you and know what was going on. the knowledge of that seemed to be spurring both you and Logan on more.

His eyes are locked at where your bodies are connected, his cock creating a bulge in your lower stomach every time he thrusts all the way in. “Fuck baby, look at that, my cock s’big its making a bulge when im buried inside” he groans out and presses down on your lower stomach making your cunt clench down harder on him, your body trying to milk his release out of him. Tipping your head down you open your eyes to watch as his cock thrusts in and out of your throbbing pussy, his tip driving right into that spot deep inside you making you see stars. That spongy spot that your toys could never reach just right when Logan would get you all worked up with his flirting, not like his cock currently is.

“M’gonna cum Lo- baby, Fuck- mhm~ wanna cum with you please” you moan out, your sentence coming out broken up as your climax was teetering on the edge. “Im gonna cum too baby don’t worry pretty girl” he hissed out as his fingers dig into your hips, his own flattering in there thrusting as his cock twitches inside you. “Cum on my cock princess, gonna fill this pretty up makin’ it all mine-” you cut off his sentence by grabbing ahold of the back of his neck, pulling his face down to kiss him desperately.

“Already all yours Lo, i been yours the whole time” you whine against his lips as your high washes over you, cumming on his cock as his thrusts speed up one last time.

Your cream coating his cock acts to further lube up his thick cock as it jackhammers into you, before your cunt milks Logan’s cum out of him in thick ropes that fill you. “Ya’ 100 percent all mine now baby” he hums into your mouth, lazily kissing you while he catches his breath, your hips grinding on his cock as you both ride out your highs.

→ a/n: fully meant to post this yesterday but i barely had anything written for it then and couldnt bring myself to write more. Im doing better than I’ve done the past 3 years with kinktober tho, gotten further than any other times.

[hanniebaeee]

Pieces of Us

Chris Bang x fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT MDNI

Genre: Exes to lovers, second chance love, fluff, smut

Summary: Even a year after your divorce, you can't get over Chris. You keep seeing him all the time because you're co parenting your daughter, and you see that he's still the same man you fell in love with. And you both haven't moved on at all.

It’s late. Your apartment is silent except for the hum of the refrigerator, as you sit on the sofa, nursing a glass of wine when you hear the doorbell.

You find Chris on your doorstep, punctual as usual, holding your toddler, Mia, against his chest, her small body curled into him like she’s still a newborn.

Your heart does a funny little lurch. It must be the wine. Definitely the wine.

“She fell asleep in the car,” he whispers, stepping inside. He is still dressed in his formals, and your traitorous eyes drink him in.

“Rough day?” he asks softly, noting the wine and the way your shoulders sag.

“Something like that,” you mutter, gesturing to Mia’s room. “You can put her to bed.”

Chris nods, carrying her toward her bedroom. He emerges moments later, quietly shutting her door behind him. His gaze locks onto yours, dark and a little too comforting.

“What happened?” he asks, folding his arms against his chest.

“It’s nothing,” you say, but Chris raises an eyebrow.

“Bullshit,” he counters smoothly, sitting next to you on the sofa. “You know you can't lie to me.”

You roll your eyes but relent and say, “Work politics. Same old garbage.”

Chris winces, before he leans forward and says, “You’re too good for them, you know that, right?”

Those are simple words, but they hit harder than they should. You glance at him, something raw flickering in your chest.

“Oh please,” you murmur, looking away.

“What?” He asks. “It’s true.”

You don’t answer, reaching instead for the bottle of wine. Chris doesn’t stop you as you pour a second glass.

“Here, celebrate my failures with me,” you tease, trying to ease your own heart. “I don't feel like wallowing in self pity alone tonight.”

He snorts, shaking his head, but takes the glass.

“You're so dramatic,”

“And yet, you were married to me for five years,” you quip, with a grin.

The wine loosen you both faster than it should. Soon, you’re reminiscing about Mia’s first words, and the road trip to Busan where the car broke down, and you ended up making out in the car till Minho came to rescue you both.

“I miss this,” you admit quietly, the words slipping out before you can stop them. “Talking...and everything,”

You and Chris had been good friends before you both fell in love. It had been the most beautiful years of your life before things started falling apart.

He doesn’t say anything, but reaches out, his fingers brushing yours. It’s subtle, but it sets your heart racing. Like always. Even a year after your divorce, you clearly haven't moved on.

“I miss it too,” he finally says, his voice low. “All the time.”

“Please don’t say that if you don’t mean it.” you mumble.

He leans in, closer than he’s been in a more than year, his dark eyes locked onto yours.

“You think I don’t mean it? You think I ever stopped wanting you?”

Your breath catches as he closes the distance between you. His lips hover inches from yours as he says, “I never stopped…”

It’s reckless, stupid, maybe even a mistake - but you don’t care. You let him close the gap, his lips crashing into yours, and everything you’ve been holding back spills over.

The kiss is messy and heated - all the pent-up frustration and longing coming crashing down. His hands find your waist, pulling you closer, and you melt against him, your arms circling his neck. His lips move against yours desperately, like he is afraid to let go.

When you finally break apart, breathless and a little lost, Chris brushes a thumb over your cheek.

“This doesn’t fix anything,” you whisper.

“No. But it’s a start.”

It’s intoxicating - the feel of him, the heat radiating off his body. You both pull each other close again, his lips moving down your neck, leaving soft kisses.

But somewhere in between, reality raises its nagging head and you falter.

“Wait,” you murmur, pulling back slightly.

Chris freezes, his breathing ragged, as he asks, “What’s wrong?”

“This is… reckless,” you whisper, though your heart won't allow you to let go of him.

He exhales sharply, leaning back just enough to meet your gaze. “Y/N, I -”

“Don’t,” you interrupt, your voice trembling. “I don't want us to mess up again.”

He gives you a look and you think he might argue. But then he sighs. He looks exhausted and a little heart broken. But he stands up and says, “You’re right. We can’t… not like this.”

“You have to go.” You swallow hard, the lump in your throat threatening to choke you.

He stares at you for a long moment, then he nods.

“Right. I’ll… I’ll call tomorrow to check on Mia.” he says, clearing his throat.

You nod, biting your lip to keep it from trembling. Because this feels even harder than the first time.

“Goodnight, Chris.” you whisper.

“Goodnight,” he says, his voice rough.

As soon as he’s gone, the tears you’ve been holding back spill over. You sink onto the couch, your face in your hands, and you cry until your throat is raw. You missed him. And you still hate yourself for letting this happen.

It starts with a look. It always does.

The next time Chris comes by, it’s late again, Mia’s tiny backpack slung over his shoulder, and her hand clutching his tightly as they walk to your door. You try to play it cool, standing in the doorway with your arms crossed and a polite smile fixed on your face.

But then he looks at you and the air shifts.

“Hi,” he says, his voice lower than it needs to be, his gaze lingering on your mouth.

“Hi,” your voice shakes but it's soft.

Mia is already running into her room, way too excited to get to her new playset, and Chris watches her for a moment, before his gaze settles on you.

And then there are no words exchanged as his hands grab you towards him and he's pushing you against the kitchen counter, kissing you.

You moan softly as his tongue slips into your mouth. His hand slips down your back, cupping your butt before pulling you flush against himself.

“Is this going to keep happening?” you ask breathlessly, as he kisses down your neck. Past your collarbone. Down your chest. His face is buried in your breasts, before he kisses them over your t-shirt.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, holding on to him, and you gasp as he bites your nipple over the fabric and a dull pleasure courses through your body.

“What?” he murmurs, his lips back on yours again.

“This,” you say between kisses.

He kisses you again, rougher than before and says,

“Tell me to stop,” he says, and his hands cup your cheeks, gazing into your eyes.

You don’t. You can’t. Instead, you pull him closer, your bodies so familiar with each other.

It becomes a pattern after that. Anytime he comes over - whether he’s dropping off Mia or picking her up - it happens.

Sometimes it’s rushed and frantic, like the time he cornered you in the kitchen, your lips colliding as the coffee maker sputtered in the background. And other times, it’s slow and sweet. Especially when he knows you're a bit down or you're having a bad day.

You don’t talk about it. It’s easier to pretend this is just an outlet, a way to scratch the itch that never seems to fade.

You tell yourself this is only because he's the only man you've been with for so damn long. You two had married so young. You hate thinking about it.

So you don't. But deep down, you know it’s more than just sex. But you’re not ready to acknowledge it. Neither is he.

Friday evenings with Minho are sacred. He's your best friend, your big brother, your pillar of support. The one person who held you up during your separation from Chris. The only person who knows that you still loved him with everything in you.

Minho brings take out, you both talk, watch a movie, sometimes two. And fall asleep on each other because obviously, you both were the laziest besties in the world.

You've been trying to tell Chris to leave, but he is busy pounding into you. You stand with your hands grips the kitchen counter as he thrust into you from the back, his hands holding onto your hips tightly.

“He's gonna be here any minute!” You hiss, and Chris moves faster, and more rough. You try not to moan as waves of pleasure hit you, and you clench so hard around him, he's shuddering with his release.

“Fuck-” He groans, pressing his face against the back of your neck before slowly pulling out of you.

You both clean up and look somewhat presentable when the doorbell rings. You sigh because Minho will see right through you.

And he won't let you live this down. Ever.

You glance at Chris before opening the door. And Minho steps in already ranting about his day and he stops in his tracks when his eyes land on Chris.

Well that's a first - Minho being at a loss of words.

You freeze, your cheeks burning, while Chris awkwardly shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Hi, Minho,” Chris says, giving him a quick nod.

Minho doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he looks between the two of you, his lips twitching in amusement, before slowly smirking.

“Hey, Chris.” Then, he strolls further inside saying, “Don’t mind me. I'm just here for my niece.”

He disappears into the living room, leaving you and Chris standing there like a couple of teenagers caught doing something bad.

“I should, uh, get going,” he says, though he doesn’t move.

“Right, yeah,” you stammer, smoothing your hands over your skirt nervously.

“See you on Sunday,” he says, opening the door.

“See you,” you manage, your heart racing again, and Chris flashes you a smile before leaving.

The moment the door shuts, Minho reappears, a wicked grin plastered across his face.

“Soooo…”

“Don’t start.”

“Oh, I’m starting,” he says, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. “You’re clearly fucking Chris freaking Bang and you want me to not start?”

“Minho,” you warn, making a beeline for the living room, and he follows you with that menacing grin still in place.

“So, when exactly did this ‘we’re just co-parents’ arrangement turn into ‘we’re fuck buddies again’?”

“It’s not like that!” you protest, though your face feels like it’s on fire.

“Uh-huh.” He says, starting to plate up the food. “You two were totally not flushed and guilty. Try again.”

You bury your face in a throw pillow.

“Linooooo stopppp!! It’s complicated.” you whine.

“It always is with you two,” he says, rolling his eyes. “You’re like Ross and Rachel, except somehow more frustrating.”

You peek out from behind the pillow, glaring at him.

“We’re not -”

“Don’t even think about saying you’re not into him,” Minho interrupts, pointing his chopsticks at you. “I know you, Y/N.”

You open your mouth to argue but immediately close it, because he's stating the obvious and there is no real use of denying it.

“I’m just saying, if you’re going to jump your ex-husband, at least warn me so I can avoid walking into it.” Minho smirks, leaning back smugly.

You groan, throwing the pillow at him. He dodges it easily, laughing as you sink further into the couch, hands covering your face.

“Seriously, though,” he says after a moment, his tone softening. “Are you okay? I mean, this whole Chris thing… are you sure about this?”

You sigh, staring up at the ceiling.

“I don’t know. I love him, Minho, and I swear I tried to move on…but, everytime I look at him…he's the same person I fell in love with. He's not a monster. He's a great father. He's a good friend. And.. and I don't even know why…” Your voice cracks a bit as you struggle with your thoughts. “Then we talked, and it’s like… like nothing’s changed. But everything has changed, and it’s so… messy.”

“Messy’s okay. You deserve to be happy, Y/N. Whether that’s with Chris or someone else.” he says softly. “If you're sure, then go for it.”

His words hang in the air, and for a moment, you let yourself imagine what it would be like to be honest with Chris. To let go of the pride and the fear and just… try again. Because God, you really want to.

Sunday arrives, and Mia is up early, ready for her day with her daddy. She even picks out her favorite toy to take along with her and insists on wearing the sparkly dress she knows Chris loves.

When Chris texts, you think it's to let you know that he's on his way. But it wasn't.

Chris: Hey, something came up. Can we reschedule Mia’s time for today?

You blink at it for a moment, heart sinking slightly. You don’t question it - life happens, after all. But Mia doesn’t take it as well.

“Daddy’s not coming?” she asks, her lower lip trembling and her little shoulders slump in disappointment.

You kneel down, brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead.

“No, sweetheart. He’s just busy today, but we’ll see him soon. How about we have a girls' day instead?”

She looks up at you with big tear filled eyes.

“Girls' day? With Mommy?” she asks, and you nod, pulling her into a tight hug.

“That’s right. Just you and me. Let’s make it special.” You say, kissing her cheek and getting on with it.

You spend the afternoon indulging in ice cream, shopping for new art supplies, and of course, toys. You also take her to an indoor play area that she loves, and by the time you get home, Mia is falling asleep in your arms.

You carry her to her room, tuck her into bed, and she’s out within minutes. Pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, you step out of her room.

The apartment falls into a quiet, peaceful lull. You wash up quickly and sit in front of the TV, hoping to watch an episode of that show you've been trying to watch for a while now. It's not exactly easy with a toddler around.

But around fifteen minutes into the show, you hear the sound of the doorbell. You open the door, and there stands Chris, holding a small box in his hand.

“Hey,” he says, his voice low, as he meets your gaze. “I'm sorry about today. I brought her favorite cupcakes.”

Your heart does a little flip at the sight of him.

“That’s sweet of you.” you say, “But she's already asleep.”

“Oh…I was hoping to see her before....ah,” Chris says with a little sigh.

You give him a small, sympathetic shrug.

“It's okay, she can eat them tomorrow,” You say with a smile and step aside to let him in.

He nods, stepping inside and setting the box of cupcakes on the kitchen counter. There’s disappointment in his eyes and it stirs something deep inside you.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N,” he says, and it feels like he’s apologizing for more than just missing his day with Mia.

“It’s really okay. Mia missed you, but we still had a good day. She was really happy.” you tell him.

Chris’s gaze lingers on you a moment too long before he says,“I feel like I keep letting you both down.”

“Chris, please don't say that,” you reply, giving him a small smile. “We know you’re doing your best. I know you’re trying.”

He nods, though he doesn't look completely convinced.

“So,” you say, trying to keep it light, “I’m about to have dinner… want to join me?”

It’s an innocent enough invitation. Casual. Polite. But the way he looks at you gives you an idea of what's about to happen next.

Chris takes a step forward, his hand gently cupping your cheek, and then his lips are on yours. The kiss deepens almost instantly and he pulls you closer, your bodies pressed together.

You stifle a sob, and Chris is quickly pulling back to look at you, tipping your chin up to see you better.

“Baby, please don't-”

“I love you-”

There is a moment of silence - Chris's eyes soften as he watches the tears fall. You can't believe you just said that. But this whole thing was getting more and more difficult to manage. The constant need to be close to him. Waiting for the days he spent with Mia, just so you could see him.

And then he's kissing you again, mumbling a hundred ‘I love yous’ you against your lips, and the next thing you know, he's scooping you up in his arms and carrying you towards your bedroom.

He closes the door gently (so that it doesn't wake Mia), and places you on the edge of the bed, kneeling down in front of you on the floor.

“Baby, I never stopped loving you. And there isn't a day where I don't regret letting you walk out of my life… we could've handled things better…and everytime I came here for Mia, I wished you would just ask me to stay. I selfishly wished that you wouldn't move on.” he says, his voice soft and his touch even softer as he placed his hands on your knees.

“I don't think I can ever love anyone like I love you. If you give me another chance, I promise I'll not let you down. I'll spend every day of the rest of my life proving to you that you're my everything… and I will be here for you, always.”

You nod and tears falling more rapidly now, and throw your arms around Chris's neck, and he wraps his arms around your waist, his face pressing against your neck as he holds you close.

“I love you, baby I'm sorry-” You cry, your arms tightening around him. “I didn't know what to do…the baby, the job, there was so much noise, and I wasn't well…I'm sorry I didn't see that you were suffering too-” you hiccup through your tears.

You feel his hand moving up and down your back in an attempt to comfort you.

“I know baby, I'm not mad. We were both suffering. We were both hurt. But we're here now.” Chris whispers.

“I love you, I want you back. Please don't leave me again-”

Chris kisses you again, stealing your breath away.

“No more crying over me ok?” He says with a soft smile. “I'm not going anywhere…I love you and Mia so much, I am going to be here-”

More kisses follow and you move back into the bed, and he follows, both of you pulling at each other's clothes.

He trails his lips down your neck, and it feels like the world outside your bedroom might as well not exist. His hands glide over your skin, gentle, but just as desperate.

You can feel the way he trembles against you, the way his breath catches as your hands move down his chest. And then when he slips inside, as gentle as ever, you can't help but cry, because as beautiful as the moment feels, you realize just how miserable you have been without him.

Chris moves slowly at first, and you close your eyes as the pleasure builds. He peppers so many kisses on your lips and neck, like he can't kiss you enough.

His fingers work on your clit as he moves, and soon your body shudders as your orgasm ripples through you. You moan softly, and it obviously has him crashing down too.

You don't let go, because truth be told, you're afraid he's going to leave. And tonight? You don't want him to. Actually, you don't want to see him walk out that door ever again.

And Chris isn't planning to, because he holds you just as tight, promising softly that he'll be here when you wake up in the morning. And you let your eyes fall shut, trusting him.

You both decide to take it slow, for Mia's sake.

Chris doesn’t officially move in, yet, but his presence is…undeniable. There are more of his things around the house, and more than anything else, it's the way Mia’s laughter grows louder every time he walks through the door. You’ve caught yourself smiling more too - wide, genuine smiles you hadn’t worn in ages.

You love watching him help Mia with her bedtime routine, fixing squeaky hinges around the house you’ve ignored for months, and finding every excuse to stay a bit longer.

And Minho? Well, he’s having the time of his life.

---

One Friday evening, you’re all gathered in the living room. Chris is helping Mia build a tower with her blocks while you sip wine and half-listen to Minho’s dramatic story about his latest “date gone wrong.”

“And then she said she didn’t like cats. Cats, Y/N. Can you imagine the nerve?” Minho says, gesturing wildly with his chopsticks as he digs into the takeout he insisted on bringing.

“Oh my God” you say, laughing as Chris adds, “Sounds horrible, but maybe try not to bring home every stray you find?”

“Don’t think I don’t see you trying to steal my best friend away. Again.” Minho narrows his eyes, pointing at Chris.

“Jealous, Minho?” Chris quips, and Minho scoffs, leaning back dramatically.

“Of you? Please.” Minho says. “But whatever this setup is, it's sure looks promising.”

You freeze mid-sip of your wine, while Chris raises an eyebrow.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” you ask.

“I’m just saying, for exes, you two sure look cozy.” Minho grins, and your cheeks burn, as you try not to look at Chris.

“Minho…” you warn.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. I’m rooting for you,” Minho says, winking before turning back to Mia. “Besides, if it doesn’t work out, I’ll adopt Mia. Because you two are idiots. And we're done dealing with you. Sorry, not sorry.”

Mia giggles at the mention of her name before getting back to her game.

---

Later that night, after Minho has left (eyeing you mischievously because Chris was still there) and Mia is asleep, you and Chris are clearing up the kitchen.

“You know,” he says, his voice low, “Minho isn’t wrong.”

“About what?” You ask, glancing at him, wiping your hands on a dish towel.

“About us. About this.” Chris says, leaning against the counter and folding his arms.

Your heart skips a beat as you gaze at him, watching him push off the counter and walk towards you.

The towel slips from your hands as his fingers brush against your cheek, and his lips land on yours.

It’s slow at first, warm and tender, but it doesn’t take long for it to snap and you're both pulling each other closer. Your fingers tangle in his hair, your body responding to his touch like it always has.

He pauses, his forehead resting against yours as you both catch your breath.

“I love you,” he says, pressing a soft kiss on the tip of your nose.

“I love you too,” you admit, and he smiles, his dimples making an appearance and your heart races as you reach up to run your fingers over it.

He kisses you again, slower this time, like he’s savoring every second of it. And at that moment, this doesn't really feel like a second chance.

It’s the beginning of everything you’ve ever wanted.

The smell of pancakes fills the house as sunlight filters through the kitchen windows. Chris stands at the stove, a spatula in one hand, flipping golden-brown pancakes onto a plate. He’s wearing his usual gray shorts and a fitted black T-shirt. His hair is messy, a sign that he’s only been up for about twenty minutes, and he’s humming softly to himself as he works.

Mia sits at the table, still in her pajamas, happily coloring into a giant coloring book. This is such a dream. You lean against the counter, sipping your coffee, watching Chris with a faint smile that you haven’t been able to shake since he stayed over last night.

For the first time… in a very long time.

And then, the doorbell rings. You frown, setting down your coffee.

“Expecting someone?” He asks and you shake your head, walking to the door and opening it to find your mum standing there, a purse slung over her shoulder and a smile on her face.

“Mum?” you say, blinking in surprise.

“Surprise, sweetheart!” she says, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by. Wanted to see my girls, and I brought muffins!”

She holds up a bakery bag, grinning, then stops dead in her tracks.

Her gaze falls on Chris, who’s just turned around from the stove, spatula still in hand, his expression frozen like a deer caught in headlights.

“Oh,” your mom says.

There's silence for a second before Mia screeches, “Grandmaaaaaaaa!!!”

Your mum picks Mia up, pressing a kiss to her cheek before asking if she could play in her room for sometime. Mia pouts, but runs off with a muffin.

Her eyes narrow slightly, taking in how casual Chris looks, his messy hair, and the way he just seems to be part of the scene.

“Good morning, mum,” Chris says smoothly, recovering faster than you could've thought.

He smiles, dimples flashing, as he asks, “Pancakes?”

Your mum raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying his innocent act. She folds her arms, looking at you.

“Y/N… what’s going on here?”

“It’s not what it looks like,” you start, suddenly feeling like a child again.

“Mhm.” She gives you a look that says she doesn’t believe you for a second. “You’re telling me it’s normal for your ex-husband to be in your kitchen, making pancakes, looking like he just rolled out of bed?”

“Technically, I did just roll out of bed,” Chris says, unable to resist.

You shoot him a glare, but he has already turned back to the stove, hiding a smirk.

“Y/N?” Your mom’s eyes narrow further.

“It’s… kind of...,” you say finally, rubbing the back of your neck.

“Yes?” she prompts, looking from you to Chris and then back at you. You think she's going to give you a nice big lecture about responsibility. But she lets out a sigh, her posture softening.

“You know,” she says, her tone gentler now, “I always thought the two of you were good for each other. When you got divorced, I was shocked and devastated - for you, for Mia.” She pauses, her eyes locking with yours. “But if you’re giving this another try… I just want to make sure you’re happy, sweetheart. That you’re doing this for the right reasons.”

“I know I messed up before. I know I hurt your daughter. But I love her. I always have, and I’m doing everything I can to show her - and Mia - that I’m here to stay. I realize that I need them more than they need me…so yeah,”

Your mum’s gaze softens as she studies him, and then she looks at you.

“And you, Y/N? Are you happy?”

You glance at Chris, who’s watching you with that steady loving gaze that’s always made you feel safe and sure, and you nod.

“Yeah, Mum. I am.”

Your mom smiles, stepping forward to press a kiss to your cheek.

“Well, then. I suppose I’ll have to stick around for breakfast. Those pancakes smell amazing.”

Chris grins and gets back to work, and your mum nods, making her way in to properly greet her granddaughter again.

Just as she disappears, Chris slides up beside you, his hand brushing yours as you start setting the table for breakfast.

“That went better than expected,” he murmurs, his voice low.

“You’ve always been her favorite, you know.” You glance at him, your lips twitching into a smile.

He smirks, leaning in just enough to make your heart skip a beat.

“Good to know I still am.” He pecks your lips quickly before getting back to work.

You roll your eyes, but your smile lingers as your mum comes back with Mia in her arms. And you all sit around the table and enjoy breakfast.

It’s chaotic and imperfect, but it's home. And for the first time in a long time, you feel like everything is exactly where it’s meant to be. All the scattered pieces of you finally fit.

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @eastjonowhere @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @satosugu4l

[all4yoi]

𝒩ot a bet﹕hyung line

𝑒nhypen x fem!reader ⚹ cw: each member ranges from 5-1k wc, fluff, lowercase intended, they swear, crying, uh someone kneels, not proud w heejake's 😞, not proofread ( lmk if i missed something! )

sypnosis : upon learning that you were merely the stake in a bet, they wasted no time in mending your relationship.

part one !

★ LEE HEESEUNG ( 0.8k wc )

"y/n wait!"

heeseung's voice only made you walk faster. you didn't want to humiliate yourself further by stopping and talking to him. all you wanted to do now was to just march out of the school, go home, lock yourself in your room and maybe eat a tub of ice cream while you ugly cry yourself to sleep.

"y/n, please." heeseung pleaded, taking your elbow in his grasp as he spun you around and pulling you closer to the point you can feel his breath on fanning your nose.

he looked at you pleadingly. "it's okay," you managed to say in a shaky voice. "i understand, you can all laugh at me all you want now-" he shook his head, "it's okay really!" you added, pursing your lips.

"i just want to be left alone now okay?" and even if he knew you didn't mean just 'now.' he'll respect your wishes and let you go, but he won't give up.

heeseung watched you walk away from him with a heavy heart, wanting nothing but to just explain everything to you before it was too late. he couldn't lose you, not like this.

when he couldn't see your figure anymore, he messily messed his hair and made his way back to the gym eager to teach a guy how to not spit nonsense.

it's been a week since that happened and a week since he's seen you in the school. he asked some of your classmates and club members but all he received were nasty glares and short cold answers. what happened between the two of you spread like wild fire the following day you walked away from him. everyone knew you were kind of a nerd, but they also knew you were a complete angel and had a heart soft as a pillow.

they also knew that betting on a person's feeling isn't exactly it. — more under the cut!

so throughout that week too, his popularity decreased day by day. he used to receive heart eyes on the hallways and joyful 'good morning, heeseung!'s by random students, now all he received were judgemental glances and they avoided him like a plague, scared to be the next target of a cruel bet.

he didn't care though, all he cared about was your wellbeing. it's been a week and you've still yet to show up to class, so imagine his surprise when you suddenly walk in to the room with your usual hair do, your bag slung over on your shoulder and your glasses almost falling off your nose bridge.

he sat up straighter, gulping as his eyes followed your every move. he could feel hear heart beating louder, as if it was calling for you, desperate to be near you again.

he needed to fix this, asap.

it felt like forever before heeseung heard the bell ring. as soon as he heard the annoying sound, he messily packed up his things and ran after you.

"y/n!" your forearm was then again grabbed by him. although this time, he turned you slowly. heeseung silently admired your face. he missed you so much.

"let me explain, please. it's not what you think. i promise." he whispered, vulnerability in his tone. the simple nod you gave was his signal to interlace his fingers with yours as he looked for an empty room.

you ignored the looks everyone threw your way, either worried and judging. all you could focus on was his warm hand on yours and how you missed it so much, you didn't even realize you both were now inside an empty classroom.

"there was no bet." you furrowed your brows, looking at him with mixed confusion and frustration. "i promise, there was no bet."

"why would they say that then?"

"i don't know, but i promise there's no bet. throughout the months we've been together everything i've said was real." he said, desperate.

heeseung stepped closer.

"what i felt for you was real," he scrambled to get his phone from his pocket, opening his messages app. "you can go through my phone all you want, ask any of my friends-" you raised a brow.

"not those friends! i mean sunghoon, jay, jungwon.. you know." your raised brow made him sputter. "to be completely honest, they've been ignoring me after they heard about what happened.."

you looked at him hesitantly as you scrolled through his messages with shaking hands. you scrolled for so long, you even reached to the messages months before you both got together.

he didn't have any messages to his basketball team group chat unless it was announcements from his coach. the group chat with his actual friends were only filled with his pining over 'the girl on the back of his biology class.'

"heeseung.."

"there's no bet, baby. i'd never do that to anyone." he whispered, stepping closer. "i can't lose you like this.. i love you."

you sniffled as you came crashing on his chest, letting tears fall again. heeseung immediately wrapped his arms around you, sighing in relief as he finally have you back in his arms.

"i was so worried baby." he mumbled, kissing your head.

"i love you forever. i'll kill everyone who tries to get in between us again," heeseung pulled you closer if it was even possible.

"and if they do, i'll make sure to fix everything even if it means the whole world would hate me."

★ PARK JONGSEONG ( 1.0k wc )

jay was confused.

the both of you had a very well planned date tonight, so he was utterly puzzled to see that you weren't responding to his messages. for heaven's sake, you didn't even read his messages, he was just left in delivered.

he had tried calling multiple times but was only met with your automated voice telling him to leave a voice message. it came to the point that he had enough and decided to drive to your house.

throughout the drive, jay wondered what could've happened. he couldn't think of anything that would make you upset like this, he hoped that you just fell asleep and forgot to have your alarm on.

walking up the porch of your house, jay rang the doorbell and was met with your mom who opened the door with furrowed brows when she laid her eyes on him.

"good afternoon mrs. l/n, is y/n home?" your mother's frown deepened, hesitantly looking at the stairs behind her before looking back at him. "i'm sorry jay, she said she doesn't want to see you?"

that caused jay to furrow his brows as well. "wha- may i ask why?"

"i was hoping you'd tell me." if jay was confused a while ago, he was even more confused now and frustrated.

"can i see her, please?" he pleads, the older woman hesitantly opened the door wider to invite him in, and before he could ascend up the stairs, your mom stopped him.

"jay.." he looked back. "i don't know what happened to you both but take it easy on her, alright? she's been crying, i can tell." jay gulped and only nodded, sending your mom a pursed smile.

he knocked on your bedroom door, when no response came, he tried to turn the knob and was thankful that it wasn't locked.

jay slowly opened your door, seeing you curled on one corner of your bed as your body shook from your sobs you tried to keep silent.

he could feel his heart break at the sight. stepping a foot inside the room, he mentally cursed at himself when he accidentally bumped on to your mirror causing your head to shoot up in alarm at the sound.

your already glassy eyes was once again filled with tears as your eyes met his. jay barely dodged the pillow you threw at him, screaming at him to "go away and never show your face to me again."

jay frowned and came closer until he was sat on the edge of your bed, ignoring the words you just shouted at him.

"baby.. what's- what's wrong?" he asked, attempting to hold your hand but you retracted it and tried to throw another pillow at him. he swiftly caught it and brought it back down gently beside you.

"was it worth the one month of free car wash?" you spat through hiccups. jay stayed silent, confused.

"of course it probably was, that's what you do right?" the sight of your swollen and red face kept breaking his heart, he was still confused on what you were talking about but he'll let you talk.

this way he knew how he'd make things better.

"make me fall in love with you in exchange of a month's free of car wash.." you muttered, your eyes still boring on to his. at your words, it finally clicked. "..am i really worth just that much?" another sob.

right, he had forgotten to end the call when his 'friend' came barging into his apartment. you had probably heard all the nonsense the guy sputtered.. but surely you must've heard the way he defended your relationship and swore at that him too?

"i thought.. high school days were done jay. please just leave me alone now. you got what you want." jay shook his head, coming closer and pulling your body to his.

he wrapped his arms around you, his hand rubbing your back as you sobbed hard. he didn't try stopping you when he felt your weak punches that you threw at his chest, his own tears clouding his vision but he didn't dare make them fall.

"you got it all wrong, baby." he whispered, rubbing your nape as your face now rested against the crook of his neck. he ignored the wetness there. "i'm guessing you overheard the conversation with sungjae?"

you nodded, now calmer but not pulling away.

"did you also hear the way i told him to drop the stupid bet he kept insisting to happen? the way i kicked him out of my apartment?" you stayed silent, only sniffling as a response.

jay sighed, wrapping his arm around your waist tighter and pulling you closer.

"the whole campus knows sungjae's an asshole, baby. he was a jerk who thought that being a dick to others were entertaining, and i guess that's why i was like that back in high school.. i wanted to be accepted in their group."

"but we're in college now, i left that group but somehow sungjae's here and is pathetically still stuck in the past." he pulled your face from his neck, cupping your cheek and wiping away your tears.

"i've loved you since high school.. and there's no bet, baby. the moment he had found out i was dating you, he kept bringing up a bet about how long we would last.. but i always shut him out, told him to cut it out and that there will be no bet happening, especially if you're the one getting betted on."

new fresh tears come rolling down your cheek, this time they were tears of relief. glad to know that everything was real, that you weren't just a toy.

"you promise you'll cut him off starting now?" you whispered, looking at him with big glassy eyes.

"i've cut him since high school, y/n. it's him who's keep clinging to me. but i promise he won't be saying anything about the both of us anymore." jay pressed your foreheads together, pressing a soft peck on your lips.

"you will forever be the prettiest and the only one i'll ever love this much in this world, my baby."

★ SIM JAEYUN ( 0.5k wc )

jake watched you run away in confusion, staring at the laughing crowd and turning to look at your locker only to be met with the note he has been telling everyone to throw away.

he angrily took it from your locker, ripping the small paper into pieces. "how many times have i told you to cut this shit out? do you want me to report all of you for harassment and bullying?" he raised his voice at the crowd who had stopped their laughter.

"that's what i thought." he frowned, pushing past them and running after you.

jake knew what everyone was doing the moment it spread that he was dating you. he had received dms telling him he could do better and if he was merely toying with your feelings.

he had told them countless times to drop it, even going far as to almost punch the person who has created the bets if it wasn't for sunoo holding him back. he had hoped that it wouldn't reach you. it was another one of his reasons on why he always went to school earlier, just in case it was placed on your locker. unfortunately, you were earlier than him today.

it's not like he was tolerating it, he had tried countless times to report it but they'd only say it was probably only for fun and he shouldn't take jokes seriously.

but jokes were meant to be funny, right?

jake opened the door that lead to the rooftop slowly, peeking his head to look if you were there. to his luck, you were.

your back faced him while your bag was placed down carelessly beside your feet. jake approached slowly, not wanting to overwhelm you further.

"baby?" he mumbled loud enough for you to hear. you turned your head towards him, showing him your tear stained cheeks. "oh, y/n." he sighed and held your cheeks, wiping away the salty liquid off your precious face.

"jake.. why are you dating me, of all people?" you ask through tears, avoiding his eyes.

jake's eyes softened, he dated you because you were different from everyone who wanted to be like the everyone else, did that make sense? you were your own person, you didn't care about social status, wealth, his circle of friends, and whether someone was good looking or not. you were soft hearted, to the point that you had let others take advantage of that leading them to walking all over you.

and he hated that.

"why not you?" he said softly, tilting your chin up so that you could meet his eyes. "you're everything i've ever needed."

"you can tell the truth." you mutter, looking at jake. his mouth formed a pout, heart broken at the way you had so little love for yourself.

"i am telling the truth, baby." he whispers, taking your hands and placing them on his face before putting his own hands back on yours. "everything is a joke to them when i'm involved." you whisper, ignoring the way your voice broke.

"we don't care about what they think, they're all just jealous. everything we've been through and what i feel for you are real, no jokes." he smiled, pulling you closer to him.

"you promise?"

"baby i'd choose you over anyone in this world over and over again until the heavens above is tired of me."

★ PARK SUNGHOON (0.7k wc)

sunghoon frowned, confused and hurt. he wanted to fix whatever happened, so he took his phone from the couch and his car keys from the wooden bowl in his foyer.

it was when he was in the elevator that he noticed his phone was open. his breath hitched, finally knowing the reason for your departure and choice of words. sunghoon quickly left the group chat and started dialing your number.

it was true that you were a bet. were. he didn't even know why he agreed, maybe because he wanted so badly to fit in. he didn't want a repeat of middle school, so instead of being the bullied and made fun of, he was now the one doing those to others. he wasn't proud of it at the slightest.

that doesn't excuse his actions though. the longer he spent time with you, the deeper he fell. sunghoon never planned for you to find out this way, he already had a plan. first he had to get rid of his 'friends', tell you everything then ask you if you still wanted him to meet your parents.

guilt always ate him alive whenever you would stay over and sleep by his side. he couldn't bring himself to meet your family knowing he hasn't told you everything and the truth.

he felt like his heart would jump out of his chest as he stood infront of the door of your house. if he died tonight on the hands of either your father or older brother, he'd welcome death with open arms.

i deserve it.

he audibly gulped when the door opened, revealing.. you. the way your brows furrowed at the sight of him tightened his chest. he stopped you before you could even close the door on him.

"y/n please, let me explain everything.. o-okay?" the way his voice cracked and the unshed tears in his eyes almost made you give in, but upon remembering what you've read, the anger in you was back.

"explain what?" you spat, turning to look over your shoulder before back at him. "that all those months i've spent loving you," you pointed at him harshly. "was just for entertainment? tell me, what was in it for you, huh?"

sunghoon shook his head, the tears now flowing down his pale cheeks. "no, no! i promise, please i love you." he reached out but you stepped back, biting your lip as you held back the tears.

"just.. leave me alone sunghoon," he felt his heart crack even more. "you've had your fun, you can laugh about i all you want now." you were taken aback when he knelt infront of you, hugging your waist as he sobbed.

"what the-" sunghoon tightened his grip on you, muttering along the words of 'im sorry', 'never meant to be like this', and something along the lines of regretting something.

"sunghoon- oh my god." you groaned as you descended to face him. "please, i didn't mean to. i-" he hiccuped, "i'm sorry, i know it was stupid and there's no reason for me to accept the bet- but i just wanted to fit in. i wanted them to take me as a part of their circle- but, but i soon realized that it was stupid." he looked at you with swollen eyes, desperation swam in his dark irises.

"because i realized that hurting you isn't worth being a part of their asshole group. it started with a bet, i admit, but i truly love you, please believe me." a sob made its way out his throat as he clung into you, his arms circling your neck. "it wasn't a lie whenever i said i'd meet your parents, i was constantly trying to get rid of them first before i met your family, i didn't want to meet them until i've told you the complete truth."

your own tears descended down your cheeks, your heart hurting for yourself and sunghoon. you stayed on the floor wrapped around each other for a moment before you both helped each other up to your feet, he looked at you intensely with red bloodshot eyes. "i'm sorry, i understand if you don't want anything to do with me anymore."

"i understand hoon," you whispered, bringing your hands to cup his face. "but you have to understand too that i can't trust you fully right up again." he nodded, putting his own hands on yours as he kissed your palms.

"i know.. and i'll spent the rest of my life earning it again. i love you."

— ౨ৎ thank u for tuning in ! @j-jinxee @slp23 @unsurereader @heelovesmeknot @sunshine-skz @hoondrop @jooniesbears-blog @jordan1024 @heeswif3y @outroherrr @harufluff @cheeseball0 @yjwluver @woofie-nctzen-fanarts @itjengirl @emiliasstuffs-blog @isa942572 @lufcxx @alienqbrain @woniebae @baekxo07 @titttuaf @chuuswifereal @kyanmeai @isabellah29 @deezbin @skzenhalove @eneiyri @a4ruby @saxytalks @denleave1088 @imdelulu @powerpuffstuts @hoonatic @dollydigital @chososloverfr @dummyf @chanyeolchannie @oddracha @wonwushu @strawberrynull @ceciloveshee @loumin908 @cexg68 @grassbutneo @gardenwons @pag-yerin @bora04 @iluvnikism @jellymiki

— i couldn't tag those who's usernames aren't in bold :(

[ari-ana-bel-la]

Imagine Carlos Sainz's daughter as a girl (4/5 years old), she first met Lando and loved him but then Carlos went to Ferrari and her daughter runs away just to go see Lando at McLaren (the engineers already know her) At first she didn't like Ferrari but then Carlos's daughter became fond of Ferrari and now McLaren and Ferrari in an eternal war to see who could give Carlos's daughter more merchandise (Lando arguing his right of seniority😭)

Rosso Corsa or Papaya?

The paddock had always been a second home to Yn. Ever since she could remember, she'd been in the middle of the F1 world, running through garages, charming engineers, and curling up in her Papá’s arms during press conferences. But for most of her life—well, the three and a half years that truly mattered—her home had been the McLaren garage.

That was where her Tío Lando always had time to play, where his funny friend Max would pull faces to make her giggle, and where Zak, the nice boss, would let her sit on his desk and pretend to make very important decisions. The McLaren people adored her. They called her Mini Sainz, let her play with the wheel guns, and even gave her tiny ear protectors in papaya colors.

But now, Papá was with Ferrari.

And Yn did not understand.

Ferrari was red. Ferrari was loud. Ferrari had lots of serious people who spoke fast in a language she didn’t fully understand yet. And worst of all—Ferrari was not McLaren.

So naturally, the moment she arrived at the paddock for the new season, she ran straight past the red garage and straight into the open arms of her real home.

“TÍO LANDO!” she squealed, launching herself at the British driver.

Lando caught her mid-air, spinning her around dramatically before setting her on his hip. “My darling! What are you doing here? I thought you belonged to the red people now.”

Yn pouted, resting her head on his shoulder. “No. I don’t like the red people. I like you.”

Daniel, who had been watching with an amused grin, clutched his chest. “Oh, I might cry. That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Zak approached, his ever-present grin widening. “Mini Sainz, welcome home. Have the red people treated you poorly? Do we need to steal you back?”

Yn nodded seriously. “They have no ice cream.”

A collective gasp echoed through the garage.

“No ice cream?” Daniel repeated, eyes wide with exaggerated horror. “Lando, this is unacceptable.”

Lando nodded solemnly. “We have to fix this.”

And that was how Yn ended up perched on Lando’s lap, being hand-fed ice cream like a tiny princess while Daniel performed an over-the-top puppet show with two papaya-colored stuffed animals.

Meanwhile, in the Ferrari garage, Carlos was rubbing his temples.

“Where’s Yn?” Charles asked, glancing around.

Carlos sighed, pointing toward the McLaren garage, where his daughter was currently kicking her legs happily while Lando wiped a smudge of ice cream off her cheek. “Where do you think?”

Charles frowned. “Why does she keep going there? We’re her team.”

“Not yet,” Carlos corrected. “She’s still used to McLaren.”

“Well, we can’t have that.” Charles set his jaw, determined. “We’ll just have to make her love Ferrari more.”

Mattia, who had been listening from his office, walked over with a smirk. “Then we better start winning her over.”

And so, the war for Yn began.

It started small.

The Ferrari mechanics let Yn sit in Carlos’ car, letting her touch all the buttons (except the important ones) while they explained how fast her Papá could go. She was hesitant at first, but soon her tiny hands were gripping the wheel, a serious expression on her face as she pretended to drive.

Charles, the master strategist, took a different approach. He treated her like a princess, carrying her everywhere on his hip and giving her dramatic twirls when she least expected it. Yn adored it, giggling and clapping her hands whenever he spun her around.

The mechanics started playing dolls and cards with her, even going as far as painting Ferrari logos on her drawings. Mattia sealed the deal by giving her Ferrari caps, jackets, and—most importantly—sweet treats.

By the third race of the season, Yn was still running to McLaren, but now she was also allowing Charles to scoop her up and parade her around in Ferrari red.

Lando and Daniel were not pleased.

When McLaren found out about Ferrari’s tactics, they escalated.

Zak made sure she had enough papaya-colored outfits to last her a lifetime. The engineers built her a miniature steering wheel to play with. Daniel started doing magic tricks just to hear her laugh.

But it was Lando who went the furthest.

“Yn,” he said one afternoon, pulling her onto his lap, “you know I’m your godfather, right?”

Yn nodded. “Sí.”

“And you know godfathers are always right?”

Another nod.

“So if I say McLaren is the best, then that means it’s true.”

Yn frowned, considering this. “But Charles said Ferrari is the best.”

Lando gasped. “He lied to you? Yn, I can’t believe this. You have to listen to your godfather.”

Yn tilted her head. “But Charles gives me twirls.”

Lando hesitated, then whispered, “I’ll give you two twirls.”

And so the war raged on.

Each week, the teams tried to outdo each other. McLaren had toys, games, and Lando’s undivided attention. Ferrari had Charles’ affection, sweet treats, and endless fun in the garage.

Carlos, meanwhile, stayed out of it entirely, watching with amusement as his daughter collected gifts and attention from both teams.

“Are you seriously just letting this happen?” Lewis asked one day as they watched the chaos unfold.

Carlos shrugged. “She’s happy. Why would I stop it?”

It all came to a head one afternoon when Lando and Charles were mid-argument over which team Yn loved more.

“She loves McLaren more,” Lando insisted, arms crossed. “She’s literally wearing a papaya hoodie right now.”

Charles huffed. “She has a Ferrari cap on. That proves she loves Ferrari more.”

“She likes McLaren more.”

“She likes Ferrari more.”

The McLaren and Ferrari garages were backing up their drivers, throwing in their own arguments, when suddenly, Carlos, who had been watching silently, let out a sharp whistle.

Everyone turned to see what had caught his attention.

Yn was walking toward them, holding someone’s hand.

It wasn’t Lando. It wasn’t Charles.

It was Toto.

And on her head sat a Mercedes cap.

The paddock went silent.

“Papá, Toto says Mercedes has a dog,” Yn announced happily. “His name is Roscoe.”

Toto, ever the businessman, smirked. “And I told her she could meet him.”

Carlos, struggling not to laugh, just nodded. “Well, that’s it then. We all lose.”

Yn, oblivious to the existential crisis happening around her, looked up at Toto. “Can we go see Roscoe now?”

Toto chuckled. “Of course, Schatz.”

And just like that, the war was over.

Mercedes had won.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. A little plot twist at the end. I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you.

-💙🦋

[vacationbimboschool]

Everybody knows I’m a good girl, officer.

Cop!Rafe Cameron x reader

Content below: smut, ass slapping, oral (m receiving), rough intercourse.

Words: 2.1k

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," Rafe muttered as he turned you around, securing handcuffs around your wrists.

"Now, what did I tell you about running off? Haven’t you learned by now that you should do as I say?" he continued, his tone laced with amusement.

You huffed in frustration, rolling your eyes. "This is unbelievable! I wasn’t even the one who threw that party!" you protested.

Rafe swiftly turned you back around, forcing you to face him while keeping your hands restrained behind your back.

"You were the only one who ran when you saw me. That’s illegal, you know?" he remarked with a smirk, his grip firm on your shoulders.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you hesitated, unsure of how to respond.

"But don’t worry," he added, opening the back door of his car. "I’ve got just the thing to make you learn."

"Get in," Rafe commanded.

Taking a deep breath, you complied, stepping into the police car. It was official—your parents were going to kill you.

As Rafe got into the driver’s seat and started the engine, you gazed out the window. However, confusion set in as you noticed you had passed the station.

Your brows furrowed as the car approached a house instead. A two-story white beach house came into view, its luxurious exterior standing out even in the dim glow of the night.

Rafe pulled up in front of the house and stepped out, making his way to the back door of the car. As he opened it, you remained seated, staring at him in confusion, unsure of what to do.

"Come on, get out of the car," Rafe commanded.

Slowly, you stepped out, your gaze fixed on the grand house before you. The cool night breeze tugged at the fabric of your white sundress, making it sway gently.

"Shouldn’t we be at the station?" you questioned, your voice laced with uncertainty.

Rafe merely smirked, unlocking the front door. "Don’t worry," he said nonchalantly. "My methods of discipline are just as effective."

He opened the door, stretching out his hand insinuating for you to walk first.

“Thank you, sir” you thanked him as you walked in

“No need to thank me yet” he said, walking right behind you suddenly gripping on your wrist. They were still handcuffed and guiding you through his home.

When you finally made it upstairs, you could see there were four rooms: Two on each side, all with open doors. Rafe guided you through the third door, which was on the left. You both entered his bedroom.

You looked around. It was simple but elegant. Everything was perfectly clean and organized. His room was pretty big, just like the rest of the house.

. A king-sized bed sat against the wall, covered with a black duvet. There was a desk and chair in the corner, and a dresser with a flat screen TV on top.

Rafe closed the door behind you and let go of your wrist, gesturing towards the bed.

"Sit down," he commanded, his voice firm but with a hint of excitement.

"I said sit down," Rafe repeated, his voice firm. You reluctantly obeyed and sat on the edge of the bed, your eyes darting around the room nervously. He stood between your legs, looking down at you with a mixture of authority and desire.

"Good girl," he said, placing his hands on your hips and pulling you closer to him.

"You're going to be a good girl for me, aren't you?" he asked, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your thighs. "You're going to listen to everything I say and do as I say, right?"

You nodded silently, unable to form words as his touch sent shivers down your spine. He chuckled, clearly enjoying your submission.

"That's what I like to hear," he said, his hands moving further up your thighs.

He suddenly stood up and grabbed your wrists, pulling you up with him. He bent you over his lap, your chest pressed against the bed. You gasped in surprise as he roughly pulled your dress up to your waist, exposing your backside.

"This is for not obeying," he said, his hand coming down hard on your ass with a loud smack.

"Oh," you gasped, your body jerking forward from the impact. It hurt, but there was something else there too - a mixture of pain and pleasure that made you want more.

He chuckled again, rubbing your sore skin with his hand. "Count for me," he ordered.

"One," you said shakily, trying to keep your composure. He brought his hand down again, even harder this time.

"Two," you gasped out, your body trembling. You were starting to feel a heat pooling between your legs, despite the stinging pain.

He continued to spank you, each hit landing harder than the last. Your mind was reeling, a mixture of pain and humiliation flooding your senses. You could feel your arousal growing with every strike, and you were beginning to crave more.

"Five," you moaned, unable to hold back any longer.

He stopped spanking you and ran his hand over your red, sore skin. "Good girl," he said again, "Taking your punishment so well."

He leaned down and whispered in your ear. "Do you want me to make you feel good now?"

You nodded desperately, the sting of the spanking still fresh in your mind. "Yes," you whimpered.

"Please."

He chuckled and flipped you over so that you were lying on your back. He spread your legs apart and positioned himself between them.

"You're such a needy little thing," he said, his eyes roaming over your body. "I love seeing you like this."

He began to slowly pull up the hem of your dress, exposing your legs to the cool air of the room.

Once the dress was fully unbuttoned, he slid it off your body and tossed it aside. He took a moment to admire you in just your underwear, his gaze lingering on your breasts.

He reached down and traced a finger along the edge of your underwear, his touch sending shivers down your spine. "I think it's time to take these off too," he said, his eyes dark with desire.

You lifted your hips up slightly to allow him to slide your underwear down your legs. Once they were off, he tossed them aside as well, leaving you completely naked beneath him.

He pushed you down onto the bed and pinned your arms above your head, moving his face close to yours, his breath hot against your skin. "You know how much I hate when you disobey me."

He flipped you over and grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back roughly. “I’m gonna make sure you listen this time”

You nodded, your heart racing with a mix of fear and excitement. You knew that when he was angry, he was rough, and you loved it.

He guided you down to your knees, his eyes locked on yours as he watched you settle between his legs.

"Open your mouth," he commanded, his voice firm.

You obeyed, parting your lips and sticking out your tongue, eager to please him. He ran his fingers through your hair, guiding your head towards his cock.

"Mhm," he praised as you took him into your mouth. "Just like that."

He held your head in place as he began to slowly thrust into your mouth, savoring the feeling of your warm, wet mouth around him.

"That's it," he groaned. "Take it all. I want to feel the back of your throat."

He held your head in place, thrusting into your mouth at a speedy pace. He was hitting the back of your throat with every thrust, and tears started to stream down your face as you struggled to breathe.

"You look so pretty like this," he grunted.

He continued to fuck your throat, his grip on your hair tightening as he got closer to his climax.

You could feel your own arousal building again.

"I'm going to cum down your throat," he warned, his thrusts becoming erratic. "And you're going to swallow every last drop."

You nodded as best as you could, your eyes locked on his as you braced yourself for his release. He suddenly pulled out of your mouth and began to stroke himself quickly, looking down at you with a predatory gaze.

"Open," he ordered again, and you obeyed, sticking out your tongue and waiting for him to finish.

With a deep groan, he came, shooting ropes of hot cum onto your face and into your mouth. You swallowed what you could, but some of it dripped down your chin and onto your chest.

He watched as you licked your lips clean, a satisfied smirk on his face.

"Such a messy little thing," he said, reaching down to wipe the remaining cum off your face. "You did well. But we're not done yet."

He pushed you onto your back again and spread your legs wide. "Now it's my turn to have some fun," he said with a wicked grin.

He positioned himself between your legs and wasted no time in thrusting into you. He grabbed your thighs and pushed them up against your chest, folding you in half as he pounded into you relentlessly.

"You're so tight," he grunted. "I could fuck you all day long."

He was hitting your G-spot with every thrust, and you were moaning and writhing beneath him in pleasure. You were already sensitive from the earlier throat fucking, and you knew you wouldn't last long.

"I'm close," you panted. "Please, let me cum."

He leaned down and whispered in your ear, "Cum for me, and maybe I'll consider letting you off easy."

His words sent you over the edge again, and you came hard, screaming his name as your body shook. He continued to fuck you through your orgasm, his pace never faltering.

"Good girl," he said, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

"But we're not done until I'm satisfied."

He flipped you over onto your stomach and pulled you up onto your hands and knees. He gripped your hips and began to pound into you from behind, his thrusts even harder than before.

"I want to see your ass bounce as I fuck you," he growled, smacking your ass hard.

You let out a cry of pain and pleasure, your ass stinging from the impact. You pushed back against him, trying to meet his thrusts, and he rewarded you by smacking your ass again.

"You like that, don't you?" he asked, his hand coming down on your ass repeatedly.

"You like being punished like the naughty girl you are."

You could only moan in response, your mind hazy with a mixture of pain and pleasure. Your body was sore, and you knew you wouldn't be able to walk properly for days after this, but you didn't care. You were completely at his mercy, and you loved every second of it.

He continued to spank you as he fucked you, leaving red handprints all over your skin. "You're going to feel this tomorrow," he promised. "Every time you sit down, you'll remember who owns you."

He finally stopped spanking you and grabbed a handful of your hair again, pulling you up so that your back was pressed against his chest. He reached around and started rubbing your clit again, his fingers working you roughly.

"I want you to cum one more time," he commanded. "And I want you to say my name when you do."

You were a mess, your body trembling with exhaustion and overstimulation. But you obeyed him, his fingers working their magic on your sensitive clit.

"Rafe..," you stuttered out, barely able to form the word. "Please, I can't take anymore..."

He chuckled, amused by your pleas. "Oh, you can take it. You're my good girl, remember? You'll do as I say."

He bit down on your shoulder, his teeth sinking into your skin as he continued to rub your clit.

"Cum for me one last time."

The combination of pain and pleasure was too much, and you came again, this time harder than ever before. You screamed his name at the top of your lungs, your body shaking uncontrollably as you reached your limit.

He held you tightly as you came, his grip on your hair loosening as he felt you go limp in his arms.

He finally pulled out of you and laid you down on the bed, admiring his handiwork.

"Hope you learnt your lesson."he said again, stroking your hair.

You lay there, panting and exhausted, your body aching in all the right places.

He leaned down and kissed your forehead. "I'm going to get you cleaned up and I’ll take you back to your parents house," he said softly.

[yawnderu]

Simon’s gut clenched, the pure heartbreak in your eyes lashing at his heart like whips. He choked back tears, swallowing the thick lump in his throat to keep himself from falling at your feet and begging to be forgiven. Deep inside, he knows it’s selfish to keep you with him. 

“‘M sorry.” His first confession is nearly muted by the traumatized, war-hardened soldier deep within his soul. 

“I’m so sorry. I asked for the leave, but bloody Makarov just…” He pauses, realizing that no matter how many excuses he comes up with, his mistake will never be forgiven. It doesn’t deserve any forgiveness, and that’s something he’s fully aware of, gnawing at his conscience from within. 

“I love you. I love both of you. I promise— no, I swear, that I won’t ever leave.” His gaze drifts down to the newborn baby in your arms. A tiny sweet girl, her big brown eyes looking at him with so much curiosity and love. For a second, it takes every ounce of strength for him not to reach out and hold her. 

Simon clenches his fists tightly, as if holding back the tide of emotions surging within him. The last thing he wanted was to be like his father— an absent bloody cunt, yet it seems like the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree no matter how much he tries.

The sight of the tears rolling down your cheeks feels like daggers straight to his soul, and yet a part of him thinks he’s not allowed to feel pain. Not when he let you be alone and scared in the delivery room, surrounded by nurses sporting expressions of pure pity for you. A first-time mother who kept insisting her husband was going to show up this one time. 

“I was so scared, Simon.” The first words you’ve told him the entire night hurt more than any bullet he’s ever taken. 

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so fucking sorry.” He swallows the thick lump in his throat, hesitantly reaching out to brush the tears from your cheeks, his hands shaky. His dark eyes fix on your face, soaking you in, wanting to remember even the smallest detail. As exhausted as you are, you’re still the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on. 

“Let me make it right. I promise I’ll do everything to make up for it.” A grim part of his soul knows that this is just one of the many cracks in your marriage that will never be repaired. Still, the sincerity in his voice echoes in the room as he leans forward, pressing your foreheads together. 

“I can’t imagine how you felt, baby. How scared you must’ve been…” He whispers, his chest constricting. His gaze drifts down to your beautiful girl, tears brimming his eyes the moment her tiny hand reaches out to hold one of the straps from his gear. 

“I’m here now. I’ll never leave, I promise.” If finally hanging it up is what it takes to amend your marriage, he’ll do it. A small smile pulls at the corners of his lips, picturing being able to see his little girl grow up with the chances he never had, and despite knowing that he deserves the rawness of the moment, Simon makes it a life goal to be with you at all times. To fix everything he once broke.

From the ex-husband Simon series.

[shawtuzi]

STRETCH YOU OUT

pairing: ex boyfriend! toji x reader/// cw include: porn with plot, toji is pathetic but in a hot way, a little angst, oral f receiving, good ole make up sex, really really soft sex that eventually gets rough, unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampie obvi, a smidge of aftercare, rushed but happy ending!! edit: i finally proofread this i didn’t realize there were so many mistakes so sorry bout that!!

˚ʚ♡ɞ

“y/nnnn! baby please talk to me! i see you looking at through the curtain!” you jumped back, closing the curtain with quickness. you rubbed your temples, letting out a deep sigh.

toji was back trying to win your forgiveness. again. for the third time that week.

after a very heated argument that involved him calling you a bitch you sent that man packing, not even looking back as you slammed the door in his face.

toji could be a good boyfriend when he felt like it, which was a problem for you. you wanted stability, someone you could depend on, have children with—but you just weren’t sure toji wanted the same thing. his promises felt empty, like he was only saying it to make you happy and that’s what pissed you off more than anything. him calling you a bitch was just the icing on top of the worlds shittiest cake

you could still remember the look of shock on his face as you told him to get the fuck on and never come back.

yet here he was for the third night in a row—sitting outside your apartment blasting ‘fallin’ by alicia keys from his car with the most beat up looking bouquet of flowers you’ve ever seen in his arms.

you suddenly heard a loud knock at your door, making you jump. you looked through the peephole, sighing when you saw your neighbor suguru, a very agitated look on his face.

“can i help you?” you asked cracking the door open, already knowing he was about to give you an earful about toji.

“this is the third time that guy has shown up here blasting that loud ass music, and he keeps yelling your name. you gonna do something about?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow. you kissed your teeth, opening the door wider, “i don’t know what the hell you expect me to do? he’s a grown ass man—”

“a grown ass man that has ties to you! fix it y/n or i won’t be so nice asking next time—” geto was cut off by you slamming the door in his face, letting out a sound of surprise. “bitch…” he muttered, walking back to his apartment.

you sighed once more, letting your forehead fall against the door. “fucking toji,” you growled, pushing off the door, walking over the window where you were watching toji. you yanked open the curtains, met once again with sight of toji belting out whatever r&b song was playing in his car.

you opened the window, sticking your head out the slightest bit. “y/n, baby! you came back!” he let out a sound of relief. you shook your head in annoyance, “turn that shit off and go home toji,” you hissed, making him frown and shake his head. you narrowed your eyes at the man, giving him the best death glare you could manage.

although you did put a little fear in his body, toji stood his ground, taking it a step further by turning up the stereo in his car. “i’m not leaving till we talk and baby you know i got time,” he glared right back at you, smirking because he knew that you knew he was indeed right. your nostrils flared in anger, your fist closing up ready to straight up punch this man in his jaw.

“ugh fine just turn that shit off before anyone complains,” you slammed your window shut, irritation radiating off every inch of your body. wow did this man had a lot of fucking nerve, but it’s okay you were ready to let him have it the second he stepped into your apartment.

it didn’t take long for toji to make it to your apartment, breathless and jittery but nonetheless excited to finally be in your presence again. you slowly opened the door, a frown etched onto your pretty, plump lips.

“hi baby….can i come in?” you didn’t say anything, instead you just stepped aside allowing him into the warmth of your apartment. the smell of caramel and honey hit his nose, relaxing him the tiniest bit.

it was silent for a few moments, no one saying anything until toji finally broke the silence. “before you go off on me just hear me out okay? sit. please,” toji ushered you over to the couch, his heart tightening when you shook his touch off.

“you know i don’t think you’re no bitch right? i’m sorry i even said it i hope we can move past it…” you looked at him, your brows furrowing, waiting for him to continue with his “apology”. when nothing else was said you couldn’t help but shake your head and laugh.

“toji…you think i kicked you out all because you called me a bitch….nothing else?” you were laughing but nothing was funny and that’s what was freaking toji the fuck out. he didn’t say anything which was just pissing you off even more.

“i kicked your ass out because i don’t even know what we’re doing anymore toji! you come and go as you please, you don’t talk to me and i mean really talk to me about shit like our future or if you even see a future with me. this relationship feels one sided whether you believe it and i’m sick of it—i don’t even believe you anymore whenever you say you love me. you haven’t touched me in god knows how long— *hiccup*

you hadn’t even realized you started crying till you felt little salty droplets fall on your thighs. you squeezed your eyes shut, bowing your head down as you tried to control your breathing.

“an—and now you got me fucking c-crying and shit—i hate you, i hate you so much,” you wiped your tears with the back of your hand but they just kept falling. toji’s eyes were wide as he watched you cry—over him of all fucking people. his chest felt impossibly tight, his throat feeling as if it would close up any minute.

you suddenly jumped up, “are you even gonna say anything?!” the volume of your voice took him by surprise, making him flinch. toji quickly stood up, resting his hands on your shoulders but you only pushed him away. toji took a deep breath, muttering out a small ‘sorry’ before pulling you into his arms.

“let go of me toji, jus’ leave,” but toji only shushed your cries, hugging you to his chest tighter—not tight enough to hurt you of course. he pressed multiple kisses to the crown of your head, rocking the two of you side to side while you silently cried into his shirt.

he cracked the tiniest smile when he finally felt you clutch onto his shirt, your nose nuzzling more into his chest. “just breathe and listen to me okay?” toji waited for you to verbally answer before speaking once more.

“i do love you y/n, there is no one else for me but you. it’s just—whenever you talk about that stuff i get scared shitless. i never pictured myself as the husband type or the dad type until just recently and even then i feel like id be shit at it. then you’d eventually realize you could do better n’ leave me,” he said the last part so quietly you almost didn’t hear it. panic washed over toji’s face when you began to cry harder.

“that’s why you need to talk to me, if i would’ve known it spooked you i wouldn’t have kept pushing the idea,” you were so annoyed at him, but you definitely couldn’t ignore the way your heart swelled at his words. toji rested his cheek on the crown of your head, shutting his eyes, “i’m a fucking idiot. the biggest fucking idiot there ever were.”

“yeah you are,” you let out a tiny laugh, lifting your head up to get a good look at toji. his eyes were sad and cloudy, something you’ve never seen before, it made you wanna start bawling your eyes out all over again.

“i’m sorry baby, forgive me. please.” he pressed his forehead against yours, frowning when you wouldn’t meet his gaze. “why won’t you look at me? look at me please y/n.” still nothing.

you let out a noise of surprise when toji suddenly fell on his knees, his big hands clutching onto the soft fabric of your his pajama pants. you finally made eye contact with him, your eyes already brimming with hot tears once more.

“forgive me. i’ll do anything—anything you ask of me. just let me come back and love you the right way—the way i should’ve been doing all this time,” he wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his face in softness of your tummy. you ran your fingers through his hair, little hums of content leaving toji’s lips.

“fine. i forgive you toji.”

toji tilted his head up, his lips curling into a sad smile. you smiled back at him, giving his forehead three kisses before pushing him back. “now get your ass up you have a lot of making up to do,” you made your way to your bedroom, shedding your clothes on the way.

toji’s mouth was dropped in awe, his dick already twitching at the thought of finally being inside you again. he stood up on shaky legs, his eyes immediately locking on your discarded panties. he snatched them up and shamelessly took a look sniff, his eyes closing in utter bliss.

“what a fucking woman.”

“toji! bring your ass.”

“coming!”

˚ʚ♡ɞ

“a-ah! tojiii,” you mewled, yanking on toji’s jet black locks as he tongue fucked your pussy with everything he had in him. he had your knees pushed to your chest, securing them both with his large hands.

toji moaned into your pussy, swaying his head back and forth as he slurped up every drop you had to offer him. “s’fuckin’ good,” he slurred into your pussy, his dick jumping in his pants when he felt a gush of your wetness his his tongue.

he pushed his tongue into your clenching hole once more, his nose bumping into your clit each time his head moved. your toes curled in ecstasy as your second orgasm washed over you. “goddamn baby you tryna baptize me?” toji chuckled, giving your pussy three quick slaps.

“fuck you,” you mewled in overstimulation when you felt toji shove two fingers in your pussy, curling them just right. toji kissed his way up your body, stopping to give you a sloppy kiss.

“i intend to but i gotta stretch you out first if i wanna fit all the way in,” toji hummed, adding a third finger, his thumb quickly finding your clit to ease the stretch. you wrapped your arms around his neck, your whines and whimpers sounding like a symphony in his ears.

“feels so good toji,” you sighed dreamily, pressing your manicured toes against his hard on. toji hissed, his teeth catching onto his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. “s’about to feel even better honey, open your legs,” toji swiftly removed his fingers from your cunt, a deep groan rumbling in his chest watching the way you clenched around nothing.

he pulled his sweats low enough for his dick to spring out but that wasn’t enough for you. “everything. take it all off, w’nna feel you against me,” your voice was so sweet and gentle compared to how it was earlier. it brought his heart so much peace knowing your words towards him were no longer full of anger and annoyance.

toji obeyed your wishes and removed everything. he pulled your body to the edge of the bed, pushing your knees to your chest once more. he tapped his dick against your pussy, fighting the urge to bust already just from how fucking wet your pussy sounded.

“ready for me baby?” his tone was soft as he slowly pushed the tip in. you nodded, your breath hitching when he pushed more in. it stayed like that for a moment—toji softly praising you as he slowly pushed all eight and a half inches of him inside you.

there we go—hah!” you both gasped in unison when he pushed himself in to the hilt. you feet knocked against his back, your body squirming at the feeling of being completely stuffed. “too big toji! it’s too much!” you tried to control you breathing you really did, but the way you could feel the thick veins on him throbbing against your walls had your mind already scrambled.

toji took in a long breath, attempting to get his thoughts together. this was about you not him. he was determined to make you see stars.

“you can take it baby—i know you can take it. gonna take me like a good girl like all those other times yeah? you wanna make me proud don’t you?” his thumbs caressed at your cheeks as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear. he finally felt your pussy ease up, allowing him to draw his hips back, then forward.

your eyes rolled into the back of your head, mouth dropping open as toji fucked you with every ounce of love he had to offer. “fell s’good around me baby, kept this pussy nice and tight for me. you knew i’d be back didn’t you?” both his strong arms caged your head, blocking you from seeing anything in the room but him. toji drew his hips back all the way before slamming back in, hissing when he felt your manicured fingers dig into his biceps.

“a-answer me y/n, answer me right now or m’gonna fucking pull out,” it was an empty threat, you both knew that, but that didn’t stop you from scrambling to find the words to answer him. “yessss yes i knew you’d be back! i— ah my god! i w-was waiting for an excuse to let you come in and i’m so hap—happy it happened!” even though your brain told itself multiple times to not let this man back into your life you heart was saying a whole nother thing. of course love always triumphs which is why toji’s got you folded like a damn pretzel, fucking into you so hard your body was sliding up the bed.

˚ʚ♡ɞ

“thas’ right baby take that fucking dick, take my cum so i can make you a pretty mommy,” toji growled pushing your face further into your pillows, drool and tears falling freely onto the soft cotton.

you’d lost track of how many rounds you’ve gone, your brain sounding like nothing but static. your hands that were once pushing against toji’s pelvis to slow his movements were now pinned to your back. you were filled with so much cum you almost felt bloated, but you didn’t care—not when toji was making the sweetest promises about making you a mother.

each time he came inside you he pushed any excess back into your spent pussy, and each time his dick got hard causing him to beg you for yet another round that you simply couldn’t refuse. this time around though you could tell he was tired, the way his thrusts went from sloppy to straight up grinding, the way he wasn’t even trying to contain his moans anymore—my mans was tired okay.

“i’m—i’m gonna cum again daddy, feels like a lot,” you clutched onto your pillow for dear life, your knees feeling like they were about to give out any second. one particular roll of his hips finally triggered your orgasm, making your eyes cross and your legs finally give out from beneath you.

that didn’t stop toji in fact it even encouraged him to be rougher, his thighs clapping against the backs of yours they were turning a light shade of pink. “f-fuck are you still fucking cumming? you’re soaking me doll,” he grunted, mesmerized by the way waves of cum leaked from your pussy each time he pulled out.

with one last thrust toji finished inside you with a deep groan, his chest rumbling against your back. toji sat back on his knees, whistling at the way his cum flooded out of your swollen pussy, staining your sheets even more. he kissed his way up your back, stopping at your neck to litter it with wet kisses.

“you okay mama?” he laid next you, pulling your limp body into his arms. you couldn’t respond—like actually you were entirely too fucking tired, so you settled on a loving pat on his chest along with a kiss to his jaw. toji chuckled, tilting his head to give your forehead three kisses.

as you dozed off to sleep in his arms toji took this time to admire you in your relaxed state. that furrow between your brows was no longer there, along with that oh so cute pout you were sporting when he first came inside your apartment.

“i’m gonna do right by you i promise y/n, i promise.”