#Even to something you've never used before

[mangostarjam]

you've been touching him a lot since he got back.

itoshi sae doesn't do anything about it — doesn't dissuade you from tugging at his sleeve or sliding his jacket zipper back and forth while you talk. doesn't comment or bring your attention to it.

but he watches.

you've been around him a lot since his plane landed, making up for all the time he's spent abroad, as if your daily chat threads haven't been enough. most of the time it's just the two of you, the way it used to be. sometimes his brother is around, though thankfully it doesn't seem like you've gotten any closer to rin since sae left.

other times there's a group, mostly your friends, a mix of guys and girls who don't seem to know what to do with themselves around him. sae is used to this — fame brings strange things to light — but you treat him as you always have, except for the touching.

you don't touch anyone else.

it makes him think.

sae has his reasons. he's never let your relationship get past that line, drawn in the sand. he's a professional football player on the other side of the world, and you have a life here. you have friends (even though you still call him your best friend), you have a job (that you complain about all the time), you have family (that can't be bothered to ever congratulate you on anything).

it wouldn't be right — to make you leave. to take you away. not when he needs to focus on being the best in the world.

(he is the best in the world. all those years ago he showed the U-20 team in japan the difference between them, the way the most they could hope for was dating a gravure model. sae never cared about that aspect. he already had you.)

he lets you touch him, but he doesn't touch you back. he keeps you at arm's length — where you're safe.

and then you ask him to be your wingman.

someone else — touching you? kissing you? having you? unthinkable. sae steps out of the shower and barely dries off before pulling on his briefs and pants. steps into his room and there you are, sitting on his bed, looking good, if a little sad.

he considers telling you to get your passport updated and catches the way your eyes trail down his form. maybe this conversation would be easier if he's wearing a shirt — your gaze is too heated, too distracting. you probably think you're being sneaky, hiding your feelings as best as you can, but sae knows you.

and your casual touches are ocean waves washing that line in the sand away.

sae walks towards his closet when it happens again. your finger in his belt loop, stopping him in his tracks. "what?"

"you were ignoring me," you say. "i asked if my outfit is okay."

your outfit is more than okay. "i would have told you to change if it wasn't."

"if you're going to be my wingman, shouldn't you hype me up?" you huff.

sae feels his jaw clench at the reminder. "no," he says, and his tone comes out cold. you don't seem to notice, falling back on his bed and testing every bit of self control in his grasp. "this is a waste of time."

he goes to pull on a shirt before he does something drastic. you're saying something, but it hardly matters when his flight leaves if you'll be on the plane with him. you've covered your eyes with your forearm, so you miss the way he pauses at the foot of the bed, teal eyes drinking in your form splayed out so defenselessly.

sae climbs over you silently, knees nudging yours apart, hands planted on either side of your body. "this is a waste of time," he repeats, watching with amusement as you take in his position. a blush sweeps across your face, but you don't push him off. that's a good sign, at least.

"what, you think i'm not worth being a wingman for?" you ask. silly. you have no idea.

and then you reach for his belt loops again, as if that's a totally normal thing to do and not something that drives him a little nuts every time. sae prides himself on his control, though, so he doesn't lean down to kiss you just yet.

"tell me," sae says, "have you become this touchy with all your friends since i've been gone?"

"n-no?"

it's cute, how wide your eyes get. sae leans down a little closer. feels your breaths on his lips. still doesn't kiss you — yet. "then i won't be your wingman. you don't need one."

"why not?"

do you know how breathless you sound? sae considers his apartment in spain, how he'll need to make sure the bedroom doesn't share any walls with the neighbors. the way you sound is all for him and him alone.

"because you have a boyfriend, now."

(companion piece to this)

[dmitriene]

hello. first of all thank you for sharing your works with us, they are a great help for my mental health. 🩶

would you please write ghost with inexperienced reader first time if thats ok with you?🩶

oh anon, thank you for your love and kind words, i'm so warmed to know that my work are something that is able to help you, and i hope anything you struggle with would dissappear! you won't believe, but this writing was already sitting in my drafts, so i hope you'll like it ‹𝟹

cw: dry humping, my view of inexperienced behaviour, virginity.

simon riley treats you delicately and unhurriedly when he finds out you're inexperienced, the relationship between you never went beyond kissing, and if he didn't pay attention to your uncertain, messy movements, when his rough, calloused hand cupped your plump ass and you recoiled, fidgeting and letting out an almost pained, muffled squeak, then he understood what was going on.

it's not that simon was used to girls for whom he was the first, and all his previous relationships were hard to call with this word, rather they were convenient meetings for some good sex, but even so, your embarrassment, your fragile, chirping words about “being sorry, but you don't want to rush”, didn't push him away and didn't make him angry, on the contrary, he nodded knowingly, tracing your hip with his thumb, voice a reassuring rasp.

slowly, he let you get used to his touch, to the intimacy, to the light strokes, to the gentle kisses shifting from the crown of your head, to the temple, lips and cheeks, rubbing his nose and stubble across your skin, prickliness of which made your stomach quiver and flex, especially when the brushes of his lips descend on your sensitive neck, along every tiny mark and existing mole, hands raking along your waist, down to where the tantalizing curve tapered in your hips.

build up the anticipation, the need, the one that, with the right attitude and patience, began to bloat inside of you, itch for more, every new touch of his hands, lips, and just his close contact, made your thighs rub against each other, soddening your panties, eyes wide and desperate with each new look at simon's firm, full lines of body, and he knew perfectly well what it would lead to, he was waiting for it.

waiting for you to ask him, crawling into his lap, settling down like a affectionate cat, suffering from an inexplicable heat inside that made you rub against him hesitantly but persistently, purring, whining in his ear about your restricted desires, clinging to his shoulders and coiled biceps, the tense muscles of his thigh exerting the right pressure on your pulsing clit, and it was enough to make your head empty in an instant.

simon won't be the one to turn you down when you've come into his hands willingly, whether he's tired, not in the mood, perhaps hesitant, he'd guide you, wrapping his arms around your hips, circling the inside of your skin while tugging down your panties, but letting you get your first orgasm from a simple, innocent dry humping.

before you'll end up beneath his heavy body, fidgeting and keening at his thick, dripping tip breaches your sweet, soppy cunt, coaxing out a gush of slick, and an endless spill of his name mewled out from your slack, swollen lips.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[power-handmaiden]

Chuck Tingle interview

OK, here is the FINAL 2024 Tingles My Butt post, which I've been pretty hyped for. I still kind of can't believe this. While I was figuring out how I'd move on from 2024, @drchucktingle generously offered to answer some questions of mine to commemorate the end of my tingler project! Here they are!

-Considering that your process for tinglers is just to write it out and not stress about proofreading and editing, was it weird for you to see someone decide to go back, examine, and contemplate every single tingler published in the past decade?

the whole dang project was really wonderful for me, for exactly the reason you have just said. tinglers are very STREAM OF CONSCIOUS and only edited with one quick pass so while i think this adds to their honesty and rawness it also means that my time with them is limited. really watching someone go back through them at this depth was like reading a diary that i have not opened for many years, and it jumps around through time in a very beautiful way. it was very moving

-I love tingler character names. I personally admire how many great ones you come up with. (I never know what to name my ttrpg characters.) You just come up with all these great names that seemingly spring from nowhere, how do you do it?

DANG great question cant believe i have not been asked this before but yes there is a type of name that shows up in the tingleverse that is unusual and has a certain feeling and cadence that is very specific. if i am trotting along with sweet barbara and there is a name of a product or a place or something that has this tone we will say ‘oh thats a tingleverse name.’ the reason i wanted to do this in the books was as a very subtle way of saying these stories exist on a timeline that is RIGHT next to ours, so in some ways it is exactly the same as our world but there are these little cultural differences with things like chocolate milk and spaghetti and then with the names. you will have buckaroos like justin and sarah trotting along next to buckaroos named corb torbins-quill or borto lart.

-So, as a reader, reading from 2014 to now, old tinglers and new tinglers feel different to me. I believe you when you say tinglers have always been sincere, but they feel MORE sincere than they used to be. Like, I feel like there was some self-consciousness and irony in some of the early tinglers that you've since let go of and embraced the Chuck Tingle voice more. I don't know, am I imagining this, or does this square with your tingler writing journey? If it does, what has that process been like for you?

i think you are absolutely correct. the intention with tinglers was always to be a place for me to express myself with complete sincerity, but the practical way of HOW to trot like this took a bit of an evolution to arrive at. in other words i knew the basics, but actually refining the best way to express yourself and perform your art takes time. maybe in the same way goin back and watching season one of a tv show can feel very different from season three, even though they are part of the same expression. 

similar thing happened with in my chuck PRESENTATION as well, where my main focus was to stay anonymous so the metaphors i used to talk about my life were still true but laid on much thicker. even my attire was a large gi so that you would not even be able to see my shape, which has obviously changed now because i wear suits these days. all of this was a process of starting in a place i knew was important to me and then peeling off the parts that were not helping the message or expression over time

-Is there anything you could tell us about the significance of Borson Reems? I feel like he's more than just another Buck Trungle/Chuck Tangle/etc but I'm not sure what exactly...

yes borson reems is god. not that i believe in GOD in the way that most buckaroos talk about god (i am agnostic) but within the tingleverse, borson reems is an avatar for the creator of that world. technically i am borson reems, because i am writing the books. the question is: are we all the gods of our own little worlds that we create? i do not know, but when i look around at my buds and the joy and love they bring to various timelines they sure seem like gods to me

-A lot of no-sex tinglers (especially ones that aren't romance-focused) vary in terms of plot and structure a lot more than erotic tinglers. Is your writing process for these stories any different?

same process actually, but the sex scenes in tinglers are about 1500 to 2000 words long, and total tingler length is 4000 words which means if you are not including that portion you are going to have to come up with some creative way to fill that space in the story and a new axis for story to turn on. so the variety comes from me getting creative and trying out different axis points

-In "Not Pounded By My Book "Pounded In The Butt By My Non-Fungible Tingler That Is Literally This NFT" Because Of The Current Catastrophic Environmental And Ethical Impact" there are references to an earlier draft of the story that was never released because you ended up disagreeing with the message. Are there any other tinglers that never got finished and/or published, if you'd be willing to talk about any of them?

oh this is a VERY good question. the story of the NFT tingler is that when buckaroos were first talkin on nfts online and nobody really knew what they were, my first thoughts were just ‘oh this is interesting what the heck is this?’ this is my way with most CURRENT EVENTS. and i thought ‘this would be an interesting tingler, i suppose maybe i should make the tingler an ACTUAL nft’. this was in VERY early days so i did not really even understand what an nft was (neither did 99 percent of buckaroos yet honestly). so i looked into it just enough to actually MAKE a nft tingler that was a real nft and put it out. lasted for about thirty seconds before buckaroos were messaging saying ‘oh this is bad chuck you should look into what this is’ and i DID look into it and thought’ oh yeah this is terrible nevermind’. i took down the original and thought ‘well THIS is what art is all about. this is where i thrive in a world of moving living art that is in communication with itself’. so i dove into the research and actually started to understand NFTS and then i repurposed the story into a strongly anti-nft tingler and put that on out instead.

as far as OTHER tinglers that kind of move and breathe and live like this, in communication with the audience, GAY T-REX LAW FIRM is another very good example. that one i wrote early on and i think it was kind of in the model of something like fifty shade of grey, where issues of kink and consent and communication are not really handled well. i think at the time it came out the story was okay, but as time went on it always kind of bothered me and finally i thought ‘i love art that exists in the REAL WORLD and changes and evolves, so lets rewrite that story and fix some of these mistakes.’ honestly it is something i wish more artists would be open to. its okay to let something hold strong against a changing timeline, but it is also okay to explore what its like to take the notes that time gives us

-This one is about Chuck Tingle that exists in deeper layers of the Tingleverse that operate on tingler logic: what does the location inside his/your butt look like?

probably a nice mid-century modern home up in laurel canyon neighborhood of los angeles. kind of quiet and small like a cabin but also very cozy, like the kind of place where you would put on a crosby stills nash and young record on vinyl and gaze out into the woods for a while then walk down the hill for dinner at a little cafe where you spot some actor from a 60s tv show also having dinner in the corner booth. this basically sounds like the start of a tingler and in that tingler i will say the actor would be a bigfoot.

-OK this one is very self-indulgent but if you could help settle this frequent point of discussion I have with my wife- where do the following fit in the Tingleverse bigfoot/dinosaur/unicorn/living object(/human/does not apply?) taxonomy?

-a ghost of a regular human

-a regular human vampire

-a human/fish mermaid

-a sentient winged horse

-a sentient centipede large enough to wrap around a mountain several times (she is handsome)

alright lets trot through these. a GHOST is not one of the four tingle types so you can have a ghost racecar or a ghost unicorn or a ghost bigfoot. ghosts are outside of the four types and do not have a classification

a VAMPIRE is also outside of the four types. so you can have a vampire bigfoot or, of course, a vampire night bus. does not strictly fall into any of the four main categories

MERMAIDS are technically a long lost species of unicorn I DONT MAKE THE RULES I JUST EXPLAIN THEM. this makes the MERMOPED tingler a little confusing but i had to pick a category and that one went into living object. now that i mention it possibly the only tingler that is technically a double category of unicorn/living object.

WINGED HORSE is easy, thats a pegasus which is a species of unicorn just like a mermaid

a SENTIENT CENTIPEDE LARGE ENOUGH TO WRAP AROUND A MOUNTAIN is an ancient creature, therefore dinosaur tingler

-My other self-indulgent question: do you have a favorite bug? (Or second-favorite if you count Mothman as a bug)

i love finding spiders in the house and giving them a pet because they are doing a good job livin their lives doin their thing. close second would be a pretty ladybug

-Any thoughts on what tinglers will be like in 2025? Do you expect to be writing a lot of political tinglers again, like post-2016?

honestly i really do not like writing specifically political tinglers anymore, and the amount that i write has gradually dropped over time (i think ALL tinglers are political but in a different way). so honestly i think i will write a few political tinglers but not many. my hypothesis on this is that my HORROR NOVELS are very very political and so maybe i get a lot of these ideas out of my system that way now. when it comes to tinglers i just wanna explore my OWN mind and heart and butt more

THANK YOU for these wonderful questions and thank you for your tingler-a-day project it was so moving and powerful. what a treat it was an honor to be a part of something so beautiful. THIS PROVES LOVE IS REAL

[haveihitanerve]

It was a lesson that was, as most lesson were in Gotham, learned the hard way.

"Down!" Bruce bellowed. Dick moved. But not fast enough. He looked. He didn't flinch. He hesitated, he didn't act. He doubted. He should have trusted.

Something slammed into his side, hard and small and painful, ripping apart his muscles and shredding tendons. That was the day he learned what getting shot felt like.

He sacked to the floor, finally, hands pawing uselessly at his side as he wailed in pain.

Bruce was at his side in an instant, and they got home so fast it was most definitely illegal. It never happened again.

"Drop!" Bruce called. Dick hit the floor. He was up a second later, the sharp stinging smell of gunpowder still in the air. But the bullet had disappeared. Missed. Speared into the wall.

"On your left!" Green Lantern cried, swinging his arm around, the massive hand he'd crafted with his ring spearing forward. Nightwing glanced over, used the second to ground himself, and lunged away. To the right.

"You've gotta trust me in the field." Hal complained later. "It's no use for me to call out orders just for you to check yourself." Nightwing dipped his head. Acquiescing , but not an apology. Not agreeing. Not a promise.

"Twelve o'clock!" Batman barked. Nightwing didn't even let his eyes stray, just moved, rolling away from the incoming stampede of aliens.

"What the fuck?" Hal mouthed to Barry, but the speedster had hardly a chance to shrug back before he was off to take the incoming wave.

So he waited instead until after the battle, waited until everyone was safe and back the Watchtower to advance on the young hero.

"Hey man, what the fuck is up with you?" He probably should have kept his voice down a little, but the anger had been building, and honestly, what was up with him? Disobeying Hal's orders, just to drop at the first sound from Batman's lips? Wasn't cool, wasn't fair.

Nightwing glanced up in surprise from where he was sitting on the table, patching his arm, and so did about half the League. Batman, in particular, was watching, white lenses narrowed, but didn't approach.

"I get that Bats is super cool and all that," Hal waved a dismissive arm. "But when I shout orders in the field, you're expected to follow them. Same as everyone else."

He glanced over at Batman. "No offense Batsy." he returned focus to the man in front of him. "But you don't get to pick and choose who's orders you follow kid. Not here."

"Actually I do." Nightwing answered, and, damn, Hal hadn't expected that. An apology maybe, maybe a little bit of arguing, but not a flat out refusal. The young hero didn't even bother to lower his voice or anything. Didn't even attempt to look cowed.

"You're different Hal. You're a Lantern. I'm not." his finger thrust in Batman's direction. "He's not." Hal cocked his head, frowning. "Yeah, I don't obey your orders immediately. I don't automatically trust what you call to me. Because you're. not. human. Maybe you were, once, before you got the ring. But you're not anymore. You're not on the field."

He gestured at Batman, to himself. "We deal with threats on the daily. In the streets. On the field. You're a brilliant man, I know you are. But you're not thinking for me."

He held up his hand before Hal could argue that of course he was. "You try." He agreed easily. "But you don't. Not really." He cocked his head, struggling to come up with an example.

"Lets say this; you're a cat, and I'm a dog." Hal pulled back, face twisting at the strange comparison, but Nightwing gestured to let him finished. Hal relented.

"You, as a cat, order me to drop to the ground. Because you, as a cat, know that if you drop, you'll land on your feet." Superman was nodding, following his train of thought. Hal was still a little lost, but Nightwing wasn't finished yet, so he was okay.

"But let's say that drop is fifty feet. And I'm a dog. Dogs don't land on their feet. That drop can kill me. You didn't account for that, no matter what you might think." He shrugged, glancing over at Batman, who was puffed up a little, with pride.

"He's a dog. Like me. And he thinks like a cat, like you. He accounts for that. So yeah," Nightwing shrugged, hopping from the table, and took a few steps forward. Hal stumbled back.

"I don't follow your orders immediately. I chance a look. I risk a second of disobeying your orders in order to ensure it won't kill me. Won't do more harm than good. But I still follow your orders."

He glanced over at Batman, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"And sure, I follow Batman's orders immediately." He shrugged, heading over to the older hero, smile evident in his voice.

"But what do you expect? He's my Dad."

but yeah in the same vein of Bruce’s kids only following his orders in the field…of course they do. in Gotham, if you don’t hit the deck when Bruce says “Down!” you’re getting hurt, at bare minimum. there’s no questioning orders or hesitating. you have to trust that when B tells you to do something, it’s in your best interest, or in the best interest of the civilians, to do it — and do it really fucking well. really fucking fast.

that doesn’t mean the JL give orders in the same way, even though they’re well-intentioned. that doesn’t mean they fully grasp an emergency scene or its civilians’ needs. they might not realize how risky an order they, as a meta, give to a fully human vigilante is. they’re not a tactician the way Bruce is — they’re not thinking in plans, and backup plans, and fallback plans and extractions.

so yeah, Dick doesn’t take direct orders from anyone but B. of course he doesn’t.

[secretmaniacc]

RIDE OR DIE

Parings: The salesman x Fem!oc

Summary: Two fierce recruiters, locked in a heated rivalry over who can secure the most players, strike an unusual deal: whoever wins the next recruit gets to drag the other out to dinner. But when tempers flare and egos clash, their “game” turns into a battle of wits, slaps, and simmering tension. What starts as a simple challenge spirals into something far more unpredictable—because in their world, nothing ever goes as planned.

Warnings: slow burn, language, violence, dom!salesman x baddie oc, teasing, work rivals, kissing, fingering sex, mentions of blood, slapping, maybe something else that I don’t remember.

Wc: 5.4k

A/n: this is my first post and idk how do you use tumblr and I can’t even add warnings cuz idk what should I warn about but I hope y’all can enjoy wtv the hell I wrote, English isn’t my first language so no attacking. Not proofread. This is so bad ik.

The dimly lit café hummed with quiet chatter, the occasional clatter of cups breaking the tension in the air. She adjusted her sunglasses, a sly smirk tugging at the corner of her lips as she leaned forward, her fingers tapping softly against the edge of the table. The man seated across from her was sweating through his cheap dress shirt, his eyes darting nervously to the plain white envelope she'd slid toward him just moments ago.

"Inside that envelope," she began, her voice calm but charged with intent, "is the answer to all your problems. Every overdue bill, every phone call you're dodging, every sleepless night. All gone."

He hesitated, staring at the envelope like it might bite him. "I don't know... I mean, this doesn't sound—"

"—legal?" she finished for him, leaning back casually. She tilted her head, the smirk widening. "You'd be right. It's not. But when has that ever stopped you before?"

His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. Bingo, she thought, watching him flounder. That reaction told her everything she needed to know.

"Think about it," she pressed, her voice dropping an octave, almost a whisper. "A few games. A few hours. And then you walk away with enough money to start fresh. No more debt. No more hiding."

He reached for the envelope, his hand trembling. But just as his fingertips brushed the edge of it—

A familiar voice cut through the air. "Amateur move, don't you think?"

Her eyes narrowed behind her sunglasses. She didn't need to turn around to know who it was. Only one person could manage to sound both smug and bored in the same sentence.

"Go away," she said flatly, her tone ice-cold.

But of course, he didn't.

"I mean, honestly," the salesman continued, sliding into the booth beside the man like he owned the place. "Laying it all out like that? Where's the finesse? The mystery? The intrigue?"

She finally turned her head, pushing her sunglasses down just enough to meet his eyes. "Do you ever get tired of hearing yourself talk?"

"Not when I'm right," he replied, flashing her that infuriatingly cocky smile.

She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand, and gave him a sweet, fake smile in return. "Right about what? Annoying the hell out of me? Congratulations, you've mastered the art."

The man between them shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting from her to the salesman and back again. "Uh, I should probably—"

"You're not going anywhere," she said sharply, cutting him off. She reached for the envelope and slid it back toward the man with deliberate slowness, her gaze never leaving the salesman. "You want to talk about finesse? Fine. Let's talk about your pitch. What is it this time? Another mysterious slap game in the subway? Real creative."

He laughed, the sound low and easy, and leaned back in the booth. "What can I say? It works."

"Until it doesn't," she shot back.

"Why don't we let him decide?" he countered, gesturing to the man, who looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

She turned her attention back to her target, her expression softening. "You want to trust him? Go ahead. But let me ask you this: When he disappears into thin air after taking his cut, who's going to be there to clean up the mess? Not him."

The salesman's grin faltered, just for a second, but it was enough to make her smirk.

"Fine," he said, standing abruptly and brushing imaginary lint off his suit jacket. "He's all yours. Let's see if your little sob story gets him to bite."

"Gladly," she replied, leaning back with a victorious gleam in her eyes.

But as he turned to leave, he leaned in close, just enough for his breath to brush against her ear. "Next time, sweetheart, try not to play so dirty. It's almost cute how hard you're trying to beat me."

She didn't flinch, didn't react, even as her grip tightened on the edge of the table. He chuckled softly and walked away, leaving her with the trembling man and the lingering scent of his cologne.

"You should take the deal," she said finally, sliding the envelope across the table one last time. "Before someone else comes along and makes it worse for you."

This time, he took it without hesitation.

As she left the café, she spotted the salesman leaning casually against a lamppost outside, twirling a coin between his fingers.

"You owe me," she called out, not breaking stride.

"For what?"

"For not strangling you in there."

His laugh followed her down the street, a sound that stuck in her head longer than she cared to admit.

Next day

She pushed the door to the briefing room open with a little more force than necessary, her heels clicking sharply against the tiled floor. He was already there, of course, leaning back in one of the chairs, his feet propped up on the table like he owned the place. The sight made her want to turn around and walk right back out.

The office reeked of stale coffee and carried the faint metallic tang of the envelopes they used to seal people's fates. Spotting their shared desk, she sauntered over and dropped into her chair, leaning back with a casual air. Her red-tipped nails drummed a steady rhythm against the table, a small but deliberate sound to break the silence.

"So," she started, her voice smooth but sharp enough to cut, "how many desperate souls did you con into signing today?"

"You're late," he drawled, not even bothering to glance up from the notepad he was scribbling on, "I've already got a head start."

She ignored him, tossing her clipboard onto the table with a loud thwack. "Four recruits," she announced, while sitting in the chair across from him.

That got his attention. He arched an eyebrow, finally glancing up. "Four? That's cute."

Her lips twitched, but she kept her expression neutral. "Better than your three."

The smug grin he'd been wearing all evening faltered for a split second, and the sight was immensely satisfying. He quickly recovered, sitting up straighter and folding his arms over his chest. "Who says I only got three?"

"I saw you at the station earlier," she shot back. "Your guy ran off before you could even give him the envelope."

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong," he said, leaning forward with a conspiratorial glint in his eye. "He came back. Took the bait. Easy money."

She narrowed her eyes, trying to gauge whether he was bluffing. With him, it was impossible to tell. He could sell a lie as easily as breathing, and she hated how good he was at it.

"Let's see the proof, then," she said, gesturing to his notepad.

He hesitated, just long enough for her to pounce.

"Liar," she said smugly, leaning back in her chair.

"Fine," he admitted, tossing the notepad onto the table. "Three. But mine were quality recruits. You're probably scraping the bottom of the barrel as usual."

She bristled at that, her fingers curling into fists under the table. "Quality? The last guy you brought in was a drunk who passed out halfway through the first game."

"And he still made it further than your little college dropout," he countered.

"That dropout lasted three games," she snapped. "And he made us more money than any of your recruits ever have."

"Us?" He laughed, the sound low and mocking. "Sweetheart, there is no 'us.' This is a solo game, remember? And right now, you're losing."

The word sweetheart grated against her nerves, but she forced herself to stay calm. She wasn't about to let him see how much he was getting under her skin.

"Keep telling yourself that," she said coolly, pulling out a pen and jotting down the day's numbers on her clipboard. "Meanwhile, I'll be over here actually doing my job."

He watched her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, without warning, he reached across the table and snatched the clipboard out of her hands.

"Hey!" she protested, but he held it just out of her reach, flipping through the pages with a smug grin.

"Let's see... Ah, there it is," he said, tapping the page with the end of her pen. "Four names. Not bad. But you forgot to include the part where they all looked ready to bolt the second you left."

She lunged for the clipboard, but he pulled it back again, chuckling under his breath. "Careful now," he teased. "Wouldn't want to make a scene, would we?"

She glared at him, her jaw tightening. "Give it back."

"Say please."

"Go to hell."

He laughed again, but this time, he relented, sliding the clipboard across the table. She snatched it up, smoothing the crumpled pages with deliberate care.

"You're insufferable, you know that?" she muttered, not bothering to look at him.

"And yet, you keep coming back," he replied, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied smirk.

She bit back the retort that was on the tip of her tongue, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her lose her composure. Instead, she focused on her clipboard, pretending he didn't exist.

The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words. Finally, he broke it.

"You know, you're lucky you have me as competition."

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And why's that?"

"Because I keep you on your toes," he said, leaning back in his chair and lacing his fingers behind his head. "Admit it. If it weren't for me, this job would be boring as hell."

"Boring?" she repeated, her tone icy. "You think ruining people's lives is boring?"

"Don't get all self-righteous on me," he said, his voice low and teasing. "We both know you enjoy the thrill just as much as I do."

She opened her mouth to argue, but the words caught in her throat. He wasn't wrong, and they both knew it.

"Speaking of thrill," he continued, his eyes gleaming with mischief, "how about a little wager?"

She narrowed her eyes. "What kind of wager?"

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Next recruit wins."

"Wins what?" she asked warily.

He shrugged, a playful grin spreading across his face. "Bragging rights. And dinner."

She snorted. "You think I'd let you take me to dinner?"

"Who said I'd be taking you?" he shot back, his grin widening. "You'd be taking me."

The audacity of it made her laugh, a sharp, bitter sound that echoed through the sterile room.

"Fine," she said, standing up and smoothing her pencil skirt. "But don't cry when you lose."

"Don't worry about me, sweetheart," he said, rising to his feet and adjusting his tie. "Worry about yourself."

With that, she grabbed her clipboard and swept out of the room, her heels clicking sharply against the tiled floor.

Later That Night

The neon lights of the city cast a harsh glow on the bustling streets, illuminating the restless hum of nightlife. Cars honked in the distance, their headlights cutting through the mist rising from sewer grates. She stood near the entrance of a seedy-looking diner, a faint flicker of its neon sign sputtering above her. The air smelled of fried food and rain-soaked pavement, but she didn't notice. Her sharp eyes scanned the crowd like a predator hunting for its next meal.

She didn't need long to spot potential. It was always the same—the defeated ones, with slumped shoulders and darting eyes. They carried their desperation in their posture, wearing it like a beacon.

Her instincts honed in on a middle-aged man in a rumpled suit leaning against a lamppost. He clutched a briefcase to his chest like it was his last lifeline, his lips moving silently, perhaps rehearsing excuses or trying to summon courage to return home empty-handed.

Perfect.

Before she could move, a faint ripple of awareness prickled at the back of her neck. She didn't need to turn around to know who it was.

"Stalking me now?" she asked, her tone sharp but low enough to remain unnoticed.

"Just observing," came his smooth reply, closer than she expected. "Wouldn't want you accusing me of cheating."

Her lips twitched, almost betraying a smile, but she held it back. "You can't cheat at something you're already losing."

"Keep telling yourself that," he said, and she could feel the smirk in his voice without even glancing back.

She pushed his presence to the back of her mind, focusing instead on her target. With a subtle breath, she strode forward, heels clicking against the pavement, the sound cutting through the ambient noise of the street. She approached the man with the kind of confidence that disarmed even the wariest prey.

"Rough night?" she asked, her voice soft and sympathetic, like the purr of a cat just before it strikes.

The man flinched slightly, his tired eyes meeting hers with a flicker of suspicion. "Something like that," he muttered, his voice hoarse and uncertain.

She tilted her head, her expression warm but unreadable. "Well," she said, slipping an envelope from her jacket pocket and holding it out to him, "what if I told you there's a way to turn your luck around?"

The man hesitated, his eyes flicking between her face and the envelope as if weighing the risks. Behind her, she felt his presence again, closer this time. The faintest shuffle of shoes on asphalt told her he was watching, and she resisted the urge to smirk. This one was as good as hers.

Just as the man reached out to take the envelope, a hand shot over her shoulder and plucked it from her grasp.

"Now, now," he said, stepping into view with that maddeningly smug grin, twirling the envelope between his fingers like a magician showing off a trick. "Let's not rush things."

Her jaw tightened, the air around her practically crackling with tension. "What the hell are you doing?" she hissed, her voice low and sharp.

"Just helping out," he replied, unfazed by her glare. With a deliberate slowness, he handed the envelope back to her, throwing in a playful wink that made her blood boil.

The man, caught in the crossfire, glanced between them, his confusion turning into hesitation. "Uh... Is this some kind of scam?"

"Not at all," he said quickly, his tone dripping with practiced reassurance. His smile widened, radiating a charm that seemed almost genuine. "We're just offering a little game. High stakes, high rewards. Interested?"

The man hesitated, his grip on the briefcase tightening. "What kind of game?"

"It's simple," he said, crouching and slamming the folded paper onto the pavement with a sharp snap. "You use your own tile and try to flip mine. If you win, you keep the envelope and some extra cash." He pulled a wad of bills from his pocket, fanning them out enticingly.

"And if I lose?"

He smirked, the gesture sharp and taunting. "Then I get to slap you. Fair trade, don't you think?"

The man recoiled, his skepticism deepening. "What kind of twisted game is this?"

"Just a little fun," the salesman said, his tone light but unyielding. "Besides, no one plays if they think they're going to lose. Are you scared you'll lose?"

She suppressed a groan. He always did this—pushing just hard enough to make them take the bait.

"Or, you take the envelope and walk away, no games required." She suggested.

Her rival's chuckle was low, almost teasing. "Where's the fun in that? And where's the money he so desperately needs, Let him decide."

The man glanced at the envelope, then at the money, and finally at the salesman's smirk. "Fine. I'll play."

Her rival's grin widened. "Excellent.", gesturing toward a nearby alleyway. "Let's make this quick."

She followed them into the dimly lit alley, her annoyance simmering just beneath the surface. He always turned everything into a game, always needed to prove he was one step ahead

He handed the man a folded paper tile, stepping back and gesturing for him to begin. The man crouched, his hand trembling slightly as he slapped his tile against the one on the ground. It barely budged.

"Not bad," the salesman said, picking up the tile. "But let me show you how it's done."

He crouched, his movements fluid and confident. With a sharp snap, his tile slammed down, flipping the man's effortlessly.

Without missing a beat, he straightened and grinned. "Looks like I win this round." He raised his hand, his smirk deepening.

The man flinched, bracing himself, but the salesman stopped short, hovering just close enough to make him sweat. Before delivering a slap that echoed through the alleyway like a gunshot. The man staggered back, holding his cheek with a mix of shock and indignation.

"Oh my—" she whispered, flinching

The salesman, unfazed and borderline proud, grinned down at the man. "another round?."

The man blinked, rubbing his face. "don't you think this was abit painful?"

"Wasn't this our deal?"

"Alright, I'll go again," the man exclaimed, determination etched on his face. He grabbed the colored tile with trembling fingers and slammed it down with force.

The tile on the ground barely budged.

Slap.

Slap.

Slap.

Minutes passed, and the man refused to give up, his voice hoarse as he repeatedly asked for another round. His face, now blotched with red and purpling bruises, told the story of his futile persistence.

Growing impatient with the drawn-out game and the waste of her time, she decided to intervene. Not only had her rival stolen her recruit, but he was also dragging this nonsense far longer than necessary.

"I'll go easy on you this time," she heard him say, his voice laced with mock compassion.

"Or," she interjected sharply, pulling a thick stack of cash from her pocket, "you let me take over and raise the stakes."

Her rival's brows lifted, amusement lighting up his face. "Feeling brave, are we?"

"I just like winning," she retorted, her tone clipped as she handed the cash and envelope to the bruised man. "I don't think you have a reason to continue this."

The man hesitated for only a moment before greed overtook him. He snatched the envelope and money from her outstretched hand, shoving them hastily into his pocket. "Thanks," he muttered, practically sprinting into the crowd and out of sight.

She turned, her eyes narrowing as they locked onto her rival. "Happy now? You scared him off."

He smirked, stepping closer, his movements deliberate and calculated. "Scared him? I think I made his night."

"Your ego is insufferable," she said, arms crossing over her chest.

"Is it?" he countered, his hand brushing a stray strand of hair from her face with a maddeningly light touch. "Or is it just that you don't like losing?"

Her pulse quickened at the proximity, but she refused to show any sign of weakness. "I didn't lose. He took my deal."

His smirk deepened, his expression dripping with arrogance. "If that helps you sleep at night."

Before she could reply, he leaned in, his voice dropping to a low, velvety murmur. "The game's not over yet. Want to take his place?"

Her breath caught as his fingers grazed hers, sliding the blue tile into her palm before he pulled away. The motion was deliberate, calculated to unnerve her, but she refused to let him win that easily.

She exhaled sharply, tilting her chin upward as she crouched down. Focusing on the game, she slapped her tile against the ground with all the force she could muster.

The crack echoed through the narrow alley, but the result was disappointing—the tile barely shifted.

"Tough break," he quipped, crouching beside her, his voice a teasing whisper. "Maybe you should let me teach you a thing or two."

Her eyes snapped to his, sharp and unwavering. For a moment, the tension between them was palpable, an electric crackle in the chilly air.

"I don't need your lessons," she bit out, rising to her feet and brushing past him, her jaw tight.

"Alright then," he said with infuriating ease. He crouched effortlessly, his movements smooth as silk. With a single, sharp slap, his tile flipped hers with almost mocking precision.

Standing, he turned toward her, a mock pout curving his lips. "I guess I'll have to slap that pretty face of yours now. May I?" he asked, his voice dripping with a false politeness that made her blood boil.

Her jaw tightened, and she nodded stiffly. Before she could brace herself, his hand connected sharply with her cheek. The slap rang out in the alleyway like a firecracker, her head snapping to the side with the force.

Pain bloomed hot and fast, her body recoiling slightly as she stumbled a step back. She could already feel the beginnings of a bruise forming, the sting radiating from her skin.

Her chest rose and fell as she steadied herself. "Again," she demanded, her voice steely.

This time, she took her turn, and with a fierce slap of her tile, she flipped his. A slow, triumphant grin spread across her face.

"Your turn," she said smoothly, stepping closer.

His smug grin never wavered, even as he leaned in for his next move. The sharp crack of his tile meeting her tile.

he missed.

His tile flipped awkwardly, tumbling off-course and skidding out of bounds. A flash of annoyance crossed his face, but before he could recover, her palm came down with brutal precision. The slap echoed louder this time.

He staggered slightly, his face turning away as her hand left a bright, stinging imprint on his cheekbone. The smirk she wore grew darker, more dangerous. "Losing your touch?" she taunted, her voice mocking.

His jaw tensed, but he said nothing, merely resetting the tiles and motioning for the game to continue.

The game continued, the back-and-forth intensified, each slap a resounding echo through the narrow alleyway. The tension between them crackled like static electricity, thickening with every calculated strike. Her cheek throbbed, the sting from his earlier slap blooming into a vivid bruise, while his jawline reddened with the marks of her retaliation.

Then she missed.

Her tile spun wildly off-course, landing far from where it needed to be. The mistake was glaring, and he seized the moment without hesitation. His hand came down with brutal force, striking her cheek hard enough that the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth.

The impact sent her staggering, and this time, a trickle of blood began to run from her nose. She stood frozen for a moment, her fingers brushing against her upper lip. Crimson streaks stained her pale skin, a sharp contrast that only seemed to embolden her defiance.

She tilted her head back slightly, wiping the blood with the back of her hand, smearing it rather than cleaning it. When she looked back at him, her smirk was intact, as sharp as ever.

"What's the matter?" she teased, her voice biting despite the blood. "that's all what you've got?"

For the first time, his confidence faltered. His hand, raised for the next strike, but then froze mid-air. Her face painted with blood hit harder than any slap, and the hesitation in his expression was palpable.

Before she could press further, he stepped forward abruptly, closing the distance between them in one smooth, deliberate motion. His hand dropped from the air to grip her arm firmly, and he pushed her back against the cold brick wall.

The impact stole the air from her lungs, the rough texture of the wall biting into her back. Yet her smirk didn't waver. If anything, it grew sharper, her chin tilting upward as if daring him to try harder. His arms came up, caging her in, palms pressed against the wall on either side of her head. Her breath hitched at his closeness, but she refused to let him see her flinch.

His eyes flicked to her nose, catching the blood still trickling down. Slowly, with deliberate precision, he raised his hand.

She braced herself for another strike, but instead, his thumb brushed against her face. The unexpected gentleness of the motion sent a shiver down her spine, though she masked it well. His thumb wiped away the blood, his touch lingering a second longer than necessary.

He pulled his hand back, glancing at the crimson streak now staining his thumb. Without breaking eye contact, he reached down and wiped it clean on her shirt, the motion casual but calculated.

"Better?" he asked, his tone mocking, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

Her smirk dissolved into a sharp scowl, her voice snapping as she opened her mouth. "You—"

He cut her off without a word, his lips crashing against hers in a fiery, passionate kiss. The world around them faded as his hand ditched the wall completely, roaming over her body, pulling her impossibly closer.

For a moment, she pulled back, eyes wide with shock, breathless and taken aback as if the kiss had surged through her like electricity, igniting every nerve ending. What had just happened? How had everything shifted in the blink of an eye? But before she could fully process the intensity of her feelings, his grip tightened on her hips, anchoring her in place, and the heat radiating from him was undeniable, wrapping around her like a warm blanket.

Her heart raced, a wild flutter in her chest that felt like it could lift her off the ground. There was something magnetic in the way he looked at her, a primal pull she could no longer resist. The air was thick with tension, charged with unspoken promises, and just when she thought she might pull away entirely, the fire in his gaze ignited something deep within her.

With a soft sigh of surrender, she leaned back into him, allowing herself to melt against his body. He cupped her face, his thumb brushing along her cheek, as if memorizing the delicate curve of her features. And then his lips crashed into hers again, hungry and demanding, hungry as though he had been waiting for this moment forever. This time, he tilted his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue slipping past her lips to dance with hers in a slow, teasing rhythm that sent shivers down her spine.

She gasped at the sheer sensation, heat pooling in her core as every ounce of tension from earlier evaporated in an instant. The taste of him was intoxicating—warm, slightly sweet, and utterly captivating. Her hands found their way to the nape of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, urging him for more.

He pulled her closer still, his hands roaming over the small of her back, mapping every curve as if he were trying to memorize her with his touch, urging her to lift her legs around his waist. Instinctively, she obliged, feeling the strength of his body as he lifted her effortlessly. she wrapped her legs around his waist, instinctively urging him to lift her higher, to take her deeper into his embrace, their bodies fitting together perfectly—two pieces of a puzzle that had finally found their match.

The world around them vanished, a blurred backdrop to this moment where only they existed. He breaks the kiss, his lips trailing kisses down her jaw, throughout until he meets her neck, pausing to nibble at the sensitive skin just below her ear, igniting fire in her veins with each flick of his tongue and gentle bite. She could feel the tension in his body, the way he held her tightly as if he feared she might slip away. His hands gripped her hips, pulling her impossibly closer, their bodies pressed together in a way that felt electric.

When his lips began to trail again over her delicate skin, she hissed, "You can't leave more marks; they'll know."

He paused, pulling back just enough to meet her gaze, a teasing light in his eyes. "How would they know it's me?" he murmured against her skin.

"The cameras," she whispered, referring to the implanted devices on both their jackets that monitored their work. But just as the words left her lips, she felt his mouth curl into a smirk against her neck.

"Then we might as well give them a show and leave as many marks as I want." He falls back into her skin, his lips teasing the flesh between his teeth as he moves to mark her as his own. His lips pause at one of the pulse points on her neck, noticing how her heartbeat quickens and flutters. Was this typical?

He wasn't sure, but he finds himself praying it's a good thing. A chuckle escapes him as her hands grow desperate, pulling at the back of his head, stifling a groan. "Easy, girl."

"Remember when you said you'd never kiss me? That I wasn't worth it?" she teases, a playful smile flickering on her lips.

"Fuck, did I really say that? I don't recall," he replies, feigning shock.

"Just saying that because you can't make me come," she laughs softly against him, and he can't help the way a small smile curves his lips. His fingers slip underneath her skirt, pushing past the hem of her panties. He finds her wetness already coating his fingers. "Can't make you come yet you're so wet for me, hm?"

She bites her lip, allowing her hips to sway against his fingers as pleasure envelops her thoughts. Though he's unsure of what exactly to do, he has overheard other men discussing this, and he hopes it delivers as much pleasure as they say when he dips a finger inside her. She's loose around him, wet, eagerly sucking him in. He quickly adds another finger, finding his rhythm almost immediately and growing bold. He dares to let his thumb tease the edges of her clit.

He notices the way her nails dig into his shoulders, biting her tongue so hard that crimson might seep forth at any moment.

The salesman had kissed many women, been on the brink of sex, yet none had reacted the way she did. They were quick to show their responses, every emotion not hidden behind a curtain of embarrassment; yet now, despite the situation, she found herself shy about making noise. He allows another finger to push inside her, the pink velvet of her insides gripping him. He hears her gasp when his fingers threaten to curl, and he allows himself another smile. His thumb finds her clit again, and that's when her grip becomes lethal, biting her lip no longer serving as a guard for her moans.

"Please," she mumbles, whimpering.

"Please what, sweetheart?"

"I... I need you," she moans, surprising herself with her confessions to a man so dangerously psychotic, one who has killed and toyed with lives—this was something she swore she would never do. Yet here she was, becoming intimate with him, and his touch felt so gentle it was as if his past didn't exist. She can see the vein pulsing in his neck as he finally pulls his fingers out, his eyes fixed on hers as he moves his hand to his mouth, savoring her taste.

Her pupils dilate at the sight, skin warming before she realizes she's replacing his fingers with her tongue, pressing her mouth against his again. His hand falls to her waist.

Now every kiss deepens, an intoxicating blend of urgency and desire. She feels each heartbeat echoing between them. Every brush of their lips sends sparks racing through her veins, igniting every part of her being. It's primal and raw, yet intimately tender, as if they were revealing hidden parts of themselves that only the other could see.

Their lips finally part after what feels like an eternity, both gasping for breath. Foreheads resting against each other, they feel the warmth radiating from their skin, their hearts racing in unison. His eyes flutter open to find her looking up at him, a soft, teasing smile spreading across her face.

"You can put me down now," she breathes, her eyes dancing with mischief.

He reluctantly lowers her to the ground, still holding her gaze, trying to steady himself.

But as soon as her feet touch the ground, she kneels right at his crotch. "That's for not giving me a warning," she laughs, her sound teasing and light.

He winces, a mixture of surprise and discomfort crossing his features as he stumbles back. "Fuck."

She turns with a gleaming smile, beginning to walk away, glancing over her shoulder. "And now... I win. Dinner is on you," she calls back, her laughter lingering in the air.

"We are not done yet!" he calls out one last time, holding himself in pain.

[lavenders388]

HII!!

could we please get some kang dae ho x reader??

something where he’s a bit of his usual himbo self and the reader is maybe a bit airheaded— something about two people being in love with one another while the world around them is burning is amazing.

~Flowers in December~

<3 Kang Dae Ho x Reader

requested 💌

authors note: i am amazed by the amount of requests and also so flattered!! I am so happy to get back into writing not only for myself but to be able to make other people happy to see their ideas come to life!! i apologize if this has some flaws i cant wait to get more practice in and promise the next will be better!! feedback is always appreciated! thank you all so much!!<3 -matcha

~~~~~~~~~~~⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆~~~~~~~~~~~

...

~takes place during the second night~

"we should all take turns keeping watch over the group" player 456 urged as the warning for lights out echoed throughout the room, the rest of the group silently agreeing- trusting the man who claimed to have been in one of the previous games, leaving as the sole survivor. you were, as were many others, reluctant to believe that he had done all of this before, but after his help in the first game and joining his team for the second, you grew to trust him; and the other members of your group. the man that had been assigned your partner for keeping watch was coincidentally a member you were drawn to specifically- at first because he was close to your age, his boyish face making you feel a little less scared and alone in the second game, and eventually you appreciated his outward personality and kindhearted confidence, a stark contrast to the situation you both were in. as you sat together, although trying to protect your group from whatever could happen in the dark room, you felt even safer. "how in the world did you pull that off?" you broke the silence with a whisper, referring to him playing gonggi in the previous game. "my hands were shaking so badly i could barely even hold my ddakji." he laughs, a bit louder than he should have given the people sleeping, but it made you smile. "i told you all i played with my sisters!" he chuckles. "you said you know how to do it yeah," you retorted, stifling a giggle at him being unaware of the compliment. "you didn't tell us you were amazing at it, that was a surprise." he turns away, embarrassed of how deeply your compliment made him grin and scared you'd see him blushing even in the dark. "thank you y/n." he says bashfully as he regains his composure. the silence returns; the reality of where you're both having this conversation threatening to creep back in. his gaze softens as he turns to you again, "you did really well with your ddakji you know, doing it the first try is really impressive, especially given the circumstances." you smile, a toothy grin as not only are you proud of yourself but you appreciate the compliment; especially from him. the kind, authentic way he states how good you did has you unable to find a response. "t-thank you" you say, blushing and still smiling. "it helped that nobody was there, i get nervous when people are watching me." his demeanor changes. he nervously runs his hands through his hair. "I'm sorry if i made you nervous, y/n" he says sincerely. your confusion shows on your face until you realize what he means. "oh no don't worry! i meant the crowd, like how everybody was cheering for the other teams! i didn't want them all to see if i messed up. you watching me helped actually. it made me less nervous." the silence returns; comfortingly. you've forgotten where you are, you've forgotten what would have happened if you'd messed up, all that's on your mind is the man sitting next to you. when you look back he's staring at you. smiling. "thank you for being on my team." you say to him as he turns away, trying to hide how long he was looking at you. you've never seen him speechless before. "if we work together nothing can stand in our way." he said to you just as he said to jung bae before the game. "i am truly honored you feel that way." you half-joke. "what are your plans for tomorrow?" you ask as if youre speaking to him in a normal situation. "oh wait im sorry!" you laugh. "well i bet they're the same as mine then!" you joke about your forgetfulness as well as making light of where you find yourself. like hes done for you, he also had forgotten the events of the day and what followed tomorrow. the two of you talking made him feel as though he was living a good, normal day. it was greatly appreciated by him, your bubbly nature being a moment of solace.

a/n if this is buns at all please lmk what i can do better!!! ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆

[pushingdaisies1]

hihi I am not sure how to submit a request because I have never really done one before but isit possible if u could do a myunggi x female reader fic😓😓🙏🙏 I haven't really seen much ffs about him and I really want to see his protective side being portrayed🙌

➜ ౨ৎ Paz Con Usted.

― ꒰ PAIRING: Lee Myung-gi x Reader! ꒱ ― ꒰SUMMARY: Your last relationship wasn't left on the best of terms. It was a small little fling, only lasting for five months. But the way he left was sudden and abrupt. He told you flat out that he wanted to end things, and that was that. Didn't give you any time to ask why, was it your fault? He had mentioned once or twice about his ex-girlfriend. But after making up this grand charade to your face you didn't expect to be the rebound. But in hindsight... you were. Now you are here, being told that you have an opportunity to abolish your debts. A hefty prize, an amount of money you've never seen in your entire life. This was the worst time to run into your jaded ex-boyfriend. But maybe he still had some room in his heart left for you. You weren't so gullible, fool me twice and whatnot. But him swooping in to stand up for you definitely made you feel those same old butterflies rise in your gut.꒱ ― ꒰WARNINGS: Honestly the biggest one I can think of is you and Myung-gi being messy. Like within the context of your prior relationship.. if that makes sense... yk? Start is kinda angsty!! Woops!! There's no violence (excluding regular squid game violence mentioned) but Thanos is Thanos!! No Jun-hee slander here folks. Mentions of Abortion (Jun-hee.) Consequences of Myung-gis actions with a somewhat happy ending!! yay!!! Like you two don't like reforge a whole relationship but no bad blood by the end of this..... wooo!!! Use of She/her pronouns once for reader. Also this is a tad bit long n may have spelling mistakes , woopsie...꒱ ― ꒰AUTHORS NOTE: Ohh no dw!! Yes ofc , here you go!! I really do hope you liked this!! I tried to stay as in character for Myung-gi as possible. He's very much a 50/50 character amongst fans. His actor's so funny and I honestly like his character. Like you envy him but you cant help but feel sympathy for him in moments. Crypto bro who I wanna dissect/look at under a microscope!! Also like... look at him... he's a cutiepatootie. He has his moments but like bro Jun-hee defender forever lmao. Also, I got this title from a beautiful song. It's by the band Ataquemos!! It's just so sweet and a generally warm song. I think it fits Myung-gis's motivations at heart. I tried to deliver on this as hard as I could, enjoy!!<3꒱

��﹕You never thought you would see Myung-gi again. After your breakup, it all seemed a done deal. He hadn't truly explained his reasonings to you. About... splitting ties with you. I mean it was utterly absurd? Throughout your entire relationship, you always tried to do and be better than before. ☓﹕Always listening to his woes even if they were a little bit baffling for your tastes. What was his problem? You could tell he wasn't being entirely honest with you about everything. His past relationships, his history. But that was his business and not yours. But your breakup definitely surprised you out of left field.

☓﹕He wasn't answering your calls for a good week leading up to it. You were worried sick about him. Thinking that something terrible must've happened. You were so naive to his true intentions. When he finally answered your multiple texts and missed calls, he only followed with, "I'm sorry but I can't do this anymore. I loved you I really did. But I'm not in a well enough place to continue with this relationship. I hope you can understand. I'm breaking up with you and blocking this number. I'm sorry." ☓﹕The familiar sensation of your chest winding tight took over your entire body. Your hands began to tremble as you held your phone. No tears at the sight. But you were practically blown away. Ghosts you for a week and then break up with you over TEXT?! ☓﹕This was jarring beyond the humiliation and general grief you felt swelling inside of you. Did you mean that little to him? What was his fucking deal? He'd even met with your parents on a couple occasions. You at least thought you were serious enough for him to at least break up with you face to face.

☓﹕You didn't even bat an eye about the fact that he was a crypto-bro! Or, that he never truly got over his last relationship. I mean you at least never thought he did. Throughout your past committed relationships, you valued the honesty in partners about what their dating life had been like before meeting you. ☓﹕ It felt like their openness was full transparency, you know? Even if the relationships they had before meeting you were full-blown train wrecks. But Myung-gi was a whole different story from other previous partners. It was odd but again you never tried to pry at him. Were you truly in love or just blind with infatuation?

☓﹕It had been a month since he had cut you off from his life. It had been a month full of bitter spite and just... sorrow. The amount of loans you had taken out definitely started to pile up. You had teetered on the line too many times at work. Eventually losing your position after you accidentally blew up at a coworker. It didn't take you long for your debt to increase even more after that. ☓﹕With how bad the job market was you stayed unemployed for too long according to the bank. Job interviews weren't pulling through. You were practically drowning in unpaid loans and growing unpaid rent bills. Never were you a person to take handouts from friends or family. You were too stubborn for your own good. It was so isolating as your landlord continued to threaten to kick you out if you didn't have all that money in a week. If he was nice enough, he'd outstretch it to two.

☓﹕It was one humid evening when you were waiting for a train. That a man approached you. He looks clean-cut, a businessman-looking briefcase held in one hand. His faint eery smile didn't falter at all as he slid down right next to you. You had spent the afternoon visiting friends for once and running errands with what little you had. One headphone is looped and tucked around the left ear. Of course, you noticed him. He stuck out like a sore thumb compared to the middle-men office workers office workers, or the families trying to get home and escape from the summer heat.

☓﹕You kept your eyes straight ahead. "Pleasedon'ttrytoconvertme..." you repeated over and over again in your head. All you wanted to do was just rinse and repeat the same routine you had accumulated. The same pathetic routine you lived with ever since Myung-gi broke things off with you. But you were totally moved on now! It's been a month... that's a lot of time... right? ☓﹕ The sharply dressed man beside you broke your train of thought. Addressing you very formally, he offered you the opportunity to play a game. What game? , ddakji - for a cash prize every time you flipped his card to the opposite side. By the time you finally gave him an ounce of acknowledgment, most people had already gotten on their designated train. The station was empty and you still had awhile so why not? ☓﹕Shockingly you had won a majority of the rounds. Your arms shot up as soon as you saw his card flip over. He may have gotten one or two slaps in after you flat-out told him you had no more money on you to pay for your losses. "That's okay, you'll pay with your body.", excuse me? ☓﹕By the time he handed you the money he now owed you, he quickly started to latch up his briefcase. Trying to bring levity to the situation, he stopped you before you could get any other words in. From his pocket, he slipped out a card. A circle, triangle, and square on the front of it. Flipping it over it looked to be a phone number. Examining it with keen eyes you heard him mutter "Have a great rest of your evening." under his breath. Before you could thank him or do such a thing he was already gone. ☓﹕Vanished right before your eyes. Your head spun around, eyes landing on the now arriving train. Time to think about this and more once you finish your trek home.

☓﹕If it was only a little game, how hard could it be? You needed the help desperately. No matter how pathetic it was you called the number. Giving the unknown voice on the other end your name and birthday. Quickly and precisely they explained where and when you would be picked up. ☓﹕Seemed easy enough from your point of view. The place they referred you to was one of the largest shopping centers in Seoul. The time was way after the park's hours. It was odd but guaranteed a spacious and empty environment for the pickup to happen. As you listened you couldn't help but feel a low twisting in your gut. This felt wrong, not right at all. You were too far gone now. So you agreed to the terms and hung up the phone.

☓﹕The day finally arrived. You tried to get your assets in order. Told ones closest to you that you'd be busy due to a "new job offer." It was shocking how they all bought the lie. You just wanted to make a quick buck to lessen your debt, that's all. Your eyes flicked down to your phone as you clicked it on. The breeze rustled your hair. The home screen of your phone reads that it is finally midnight. You had gotten there earlier than told on the phone. ☓﹕Just to shake the impending nerves away. It felt like a bust because right on schedule, a van arrived. A masked man rolled down the window and stated your name. Your eyes widened as that pit feeling got deeper and deeper. The door of the van slid open and you slid inside the vehicle. Getting a feel for the van you right saw the slumped-down bodies beside you. Your throat tightened as you tried to find answers to your questions. Before you knew it heavy gas started to fill the backseat. The car whirred to life as you slowly collapsed, finally unconscious.

☓﹕By the time you awoke, you were met with the sounds of classical music and a bed. The metal squeaked gently as you sat up in the bunk bed where you lay. People who were dressed in similar attire as you, with numbers on their chests and backs littered the beds around you. Some were already starting to climb down and stand around on the main floor of the dormitory. Standing back, you were puzzled by where you now were. You were practically whisked away from your life on the outside. This wasn't disclosed in the phone call.

☓﹕Murmurs could be heard in the wide crowd of participants forming in the middle of the room. Others were scared of what this might entail, while some were dumbfounded by the swift change in scenery. The same masked men with different variations of their masks walked out, one outwardly greeting the bewildered players. Immediately as soon as they started taking questions, people kept on giving and giving. By now you had joined the crowd, standing more by the back wall of beds.

☓﹕All of a sudden your ears get all warm and irritated as soon as you hear a specific voice. The same voice of the guy who ripped your heart out and left it beating on the cold floor. Asking for his phone and wallet for market checking of all things? You were staring directly at the back of his head as he whined in annoyance. If it was anyone else, you would've been remorseful. These "guards", had stripped everyone of their personal belongings and usual clothes. But hearing that prick made your head get all hot and all rationality gets just as fuzzy.

☓﹕On the screen they displayed multiple of the players. Their individual names, and the debt amount they had to their name. Myung-gi's face flashed on screen with his hair mostly hidden with a bucket hat. Playing the same game you had when the recruiter found you in that subway. His face getting slapped, holding his cheek. You especially heard ringing in his ears when you heard he had CHARGES against him?

☓﹕During the time you had spent with him, he never once brought that up. Nor the crypto coin scam he ran on multiple people. Other player's faces followed after his. One person's debt reaching into the billions. But your head was spinning at the fact that maybe you didn't know your ex-boyfriend that well. You weren't judgemental of the fact that he dealt with cryptocurrency. Which was probably your biggest mistake. The rose-colored glasses were even more damaged now. Who really had you been dating for those five months?

☓﹕After the square guards' passionate but monotone speech, consent forms were immediately dished out. Four guards stood at each individual post. Handing participants pens to sign the contracts, the rules all in bold. Your number was somewhere in the middle of the large range of game participants. So let's just say you stood around in that line for a while. You didn't really take the time to strike up a conversation with anyone.

☓﹕An older woman, the same one who was arguing with her son earlier was behind you. She was kind enough to take the initiative. She seemed like a nurturing sweetheart. Her words were kind to you as she asked you why you were here and other small talk. It was the most sympathy you had heard from someone in a while. Finding the time to crack a grin of three as she commented "You look like a respectful kid." It was the most conversation you had... since you had gotten here.

☓﹕You two both discussed how this may work. The entire you mostly listened as she talked about how this all seemed "too bizarre for her tastes." You chuckled, cluelessly shrugging with a "We'll find out soon enough." Her son the entire time was trying to get his mom's attention. But she was determined to keep on talking to you. Until it was your turn to sign your signature. ☓﹕Glancing over the rules your head cocked to the side a little. Already here, it felt useless to back out. Leaving with nothing is worse than leaving with something. Readjusting your hold on the pen you quickly signed the contract. Gently placing the pen back down where it sat before, your mind now clear, you started to walk out and away from the four single-file lines. ☓﹕Until you heard a scuffle at the other side of the room. Chu Su-bong and another player were towering over another player. You don't realize who the victim was until you hear the purple-haired one rather loudly announce the name "MG Coin." You wanted to scoff at the cheesy name. Clearly, if those guys were picking a fight with Myung-gi they must've been the people who invested in the coin. ☓﹕You know what? , serves him right. Facing his comeuppance face-on and head-on. But you couldn't help but feel some odd form of pity as you watched Su-bong almost swing on "MG Coin." Thankfully the other player riled him down. The two walked off and the air in the room stayed as stale as it was before. Something inside of you was eager to approach Myung-gi. Before you could stop yourself your feet were already walking to where he was sitting.

☓﹕He looked so small and so pitiful. His head was in his hands as he rubbed his face. Your steps were precise as you walked towards him. Your arms were crossed as you looked him up and down. "Was I just some joke to you?" You sneered. As soon as he heard you his head shot up. Eyebrows creased and mouth agape. The last time he had spoken to you, he didn't expect you to be here of the sort at all.

☓﹕"What are you even doing here?" He whispered, trying to keep his volume to a low. Not to make another fool of himself again. "I should be asking what you're doing here? Oh wait, never mind, I know. Guess I was dating a criminal. I wasted a lot on you. Supporting you, listening to you, being an above-average decent human being for you? And you repay me by keeping me in the dark about something as big as this?" You snapped back at him. Not holding back any resentment that grew towards him during your mutual time apart.

☓﹕"It's not like that-" Your eyes went wide and your jaw fully dropped. "No, I think it is like that. You don't hide stuff like this from someone Myung-gi! What was I even to you? And by your actions.. clearly nothing." He couldn't stop the scoff escaping him, which just pissed you off even more. "Do you ever stop talking? Everything was always my fault when it came to you. But when I tried to explain myself you'd immediately patronize me." ☓﹕"Patrionize you?! You didn't tell me you were wanted by the authorities! For five months, I thought you were just struggling. That's why I helped you so much. That's why I practically let you live with me after a while-" The realization came to you. Was he just using you to hide from the cops? He put his hands up in between the two of you. "When I met you I was in a rock and an even harder place. I-I was trying to turn a new leaf... I had hurt so many people. But you took me in and I..." ☓﹕"And you what? Found an easy cash grab to live off of until you felt guilty enough in that bitter heart of yours?" Your words pierced every muscle in his body. "I loved you, you piece of shit. I loved you a lot. You met my parents! You saw the best of me. You are acting like our time together was nothing. I for sure thought it was something and guess you didn't feel the same." A sigh left you as you got everything out. Everything that started to slowly form after you got that text.

☓﹕"... Are you only here to scream at me? Right now, here? Gotten it out of your system?" His words were like an even deeper twist of the knife. He clearly could see on your face that his response was the incorrect thing to say. He tried to stammer out an apology but you were already backing away. "I'm here to revel in your misery. I've seen enough... good luck." ☓﹕Turning around you noticed a specific player in the sea of people looking at you. She was sitting by one of the bunks. A hand gently cradled her stomach. Her eyes looked glazed over with unshed tears. Her stare was icy and almost demeaning as you looked back at her. They told a story that you didn't quite understand, at least not now. Shrugging it off you went to go find a place to cool down before the first game.

☓﹕It was comical hearing what the first game was. A children's game you used to play with your classmates when you were young. Shouldn't be that off-putting on the outside. Definitely was more with the larger-than-life doll staring all four hundred and fifty-six players down from the finish line. An older man, the 456th player, immediately ran up before the games even started. Yelling that this wasn't just any ordinary game. That lives were at stake and the doll had motion sensor eyes?

☓﹕You definitely started to believe him along with many others once the first player died. One by one gunshots rang out. Bodies were either piled up at the entrances or littered across the sandy ground. People immediately changed their tune and began to run in a lot more of an ordered fashion. Because the doll would only pick up the first person's motions. In following the orders this stranger shouted you actually made it to the finish line. You shockingly made it out alive... only after the first game. ☓﹕After a good chunk of the players were left, everyone was escorted through that colorful maze of stairs back to the dormitory. People were practically cowering in fear and begging for mercy from the guards. The same stranger who had practically saved the lives of every remaining player urged for a vote to take place. Since it was in the forms and already promised, it had to be done. ☓﹕The bloodshed you saw was terrifying. People dropped like flies even if their hands were trembling. It was mortifying to see so up close. By the time your number was called you immediately felt a sense of determination. You weren't desperate enough to watch others lose their lives while participating in gruesome children's games. Nor did you want to die here and have no one you knew realize you died. You'd rather get your body stripped for parts.

☓﹕It wasn't shocking that Myung-gi went for the opposite side as you. You clearly barely knew the man, so anything made sense at this point. It was neck and neck, practically so close to having your side win. But one person broke that, and the opposing side ended up winning. Their cheers were met with broken hearts and people who had just lost a fraction of their hope. ☓﹕The air in the room was building with tension. As players were given food one by one by the circle guards, the entire time in line you could only think about one thing. The girl who was staring daggers into your soul. You didn't know if it truly was something to worry about. But hell you had a ton of time to kill. So you thought the best thing to do was to try and ask the million-dollar question.

☓﹕You slinked back to the side. Your eyes scan around the spacious area to look for her. You recognized the same head of the older woman you had conversed with. During the first game, you noticed that in a fleeting second, the two had conversed. It must've been something to do with that. Right away you started walking over. Her son giving you the perfect moment to approach player 222.

☓﹕She was eating her food, not noticing your steps. At least that's what it looked like. You gripped the water bottle in your hand. Clearing your throat, you two made eye contact. Her gaze was less hurtful. More hollow, as if she was yearning for something. But you had no idea what. Words were stuck in your throat, you were at a loss. ☓﹕"Can I help you...?" Her tone was cautious as she let her tin of food rest in her lap. Her arms were more closed, resting towards her side. You stammered out a "Here." Your hand offered up the water bottle. Her eyes looked at the hand, and then back to you. Almost as if she was waiting for you to finish your sentence.

☓﹕"I-I saw you earlier in the game ... I know it's impolite but it was all just me guessing I didn't mean to offend you-" You were surprised you weren't cartoonishly slipping on a banana peel here. Expecting her to cut you off, she still kept on staring back at you. "Thank you." She whispered as the palm of her hand opened. You immediately handed her the water bottle.

☓﹕The quiet was suffocating. Everyone's conversation and consumption drowned out your subconscious. "Are you Jun-hee?" You abruptly questioned her. She lost all the color in her face. Instead of responding to you verbally, she nodded her head as she stared down into her lap.

☓﹕You could easily connect the dots. Myung-gi had mentioned her by name once when you asked him about his previous partner. She was here, trying to win to make money for Myung-gis unborn child. You had lived five months blissfully unaware of this, of any of this. "Is that why you were watching me earlier?" You asked with a tremble of your lip. Repeating her prior action, she nodded her head. ☓﹕"Oh my god... I... I'm so sorry." Your words were a mess as your past relationship with this perfect guy broke apart. You had fit each other so perfectly. You didn't expect this behavior from him, how could you? Jun-hee was clearly holding in a lot. But she couldn't muster any anger. You clearly were clueless about his lies. By the way, your eyes went wide and your mouth parted, she couldn't stop herself from feeling pity for you. ☓﹕"When I told him, he originally wanted me to get rid of it. Said that we'd handle it." She spoke up as her tone of voice wavered. "I had already invested into that Dalmation coin and he was being hounded by the cops. By then I found out about its failure, he already left my life without another word. I decided that our child didn't have a father anymore and kept it. It's been six months."

☓﹕Anger burned in your chest. Jun-hee looked like a sweet girl. She was so beautiful, like a little button. You felt wronged and betrayed but also vengeful? She stopped you from thinking any harder. "I don't need him. So please do not feel bad for me. When he left he lost his chance. I tried too many times to be there for him, but he didn't try once for me. He's not a good guy."

☓﹕Your head lulled in recognition as you listened intently. "I-I seriously had no idea. He told me a whole other story." She simply shrugged at your response. "That sounds like Myung-gi." She remarked in a reserved way of speech. You couldn't help but crack a small laugh in defeat because it sure was him. ☓﹕You felt pure remorse running through your veins. You extended a vine of friendship to the poor girl. "I know we know each other for the worst of reasons. But... I hold only anger for that man. If you need anything or anyone, you have a friend in me Jun-hee." You lamented as your shoulders lost some of the tension they held before. ☓﹕She plastered a small but noticeable smile on her face. Either real or fake, you took it as a win either way. "I appreciate your kindness." She politely remarked as her head bowed at you, you did the same. "You are a good person. I hope we make it out together and can form a real friendship." That seemed to lighten her spirits. "I hope so as well." Her words were direct but her tone was soft and gentle. ☓﹕You were already bothering her enough. With a small wave of your hand to bid her farewell, you began to walk away. Opening up your tin of food you spent the next couple of hours picking at the once-enclosed meal. You were too stuck in the past. Every sweet moment you had with Myung-gi rotted and turned sour. The only things that gave you any ease at night were thinking back to your exchange with Jun-hee and the warm glow of all the prize money in the middle of the ceiling.

☓﹕The next morning came as a definite wake-up call. The same classical elegant tune blared over the speakers. You wished you could curl back into bed with the pillow muffling the repentant noise. But thanks to the system in place you were stuck here. People were quickly rising out of beds, no one really stopping to sit.

☓﹕Walking down to stand at your bed post you noticed two familiar figures conversing. Myung-gis bruised face and Jun-hees stern brow. You could remember the fight that broke out in the middle of the room, and the reason why he looked so beat up. The same purple-haired guy, Su-Bong beating down on him with the help of what looked to be his sort of right-hand man. Only until the same player who broke the vote count tie stepped in. Myung-gis and Jun-hees exchange didn't look pleasant but no time to focus on that. Guards were already walking in, ready to escort every current participant through the game hall.

☓﹕After making it through the long and winding staircases, you were brought into a large room. It almost resembled an elementary playground. With the bright colors and two rainbow roads, as well as the back walls resembling a sort of school structure. You were set to make teams of five with ten minutes on the clock. Nobody wasted any time in finding teammates. You were having a hard time locating one to join.

☓﹕Time was ticking down bit by bit. It felt more like five minutes to decide who to team with as you saw people right away strategizing. Your fingers danced at your sides as you cautiously walked around. You had gotten rejected from two groups. One because they were already full, with wishes of good luck as you walked away. The other one was because they were also full and you didn't have "the look." ☓﹕Suddenly you heard someone trying to get another person's attention. When you looked back you saw that someone was trying to get your attention. The same guy who was ready to beat Myung-gi to a pulp if he had the chance. The same guy who was pushing people over in the first game as if they were only dominos. He walked with pride as two men followed behind him, one of them the same person who was also beating up on Myung-gi. ☓﹕"Owww Senorita... you're too cute to be alone. Let's play this game together." He purred as he approached you. His arms were crossed and his chest was clearly puffed up. Player 124 clearly didn't look happy about this. Chewing at his inner cheek with an unpleased look on his face. Player 256 was clearly awe-struck with the guy, practically ready to kiss the ground he walked on. ☓﹕You would rather get gunned down than be stuck with this guy and his lackeys. It was a hefty gamble... that's why you never participated in the act. Besides he may get you killed in the next game, if not in this one. So you flashed on a polite but guarded expression. "Sorry but, I'm alright over here." Player 124 scoffed in relief as Su-Bongs head turned back, almost as if sending him a long and lengthy message only with a glare.

☓﹕"It's only you over here though. Come onnn... I'll protect you the whole game. You don't have to worry about anything when you are in the Thanos world. It's a pretty perfect deal." He smirked with confidence. On accident you let a sheepish laugh slip out. He took that as the initiative to push even harder on your buttons.

☓﹕"Whatever the game is I'll destroy anything that tries to tear us apart." He hummed with a boyishly sinister way of speech. You've denied him multiple times by now. Before another polite "no" could be added to that list, you looked up to notice Myung-gi. He was standing in between you and Thanos. His feet are firmly planted in the ground. The clock just now ticked past four minutes.

☓﹕"Ahhh MG Coin, I'm a little busy over here." Thanos snarked as he took a step back. Myung-gi huffed out a reply, "She said no man. So listen to that and go find two other people." By the way, Thanos's expression appeared; he thought this was humorful. "Are you looking to continue where we last left off, MG Coin? I think your purple and new red would look nice together." He replied with promise laced around every word. ☓﹕Myung-gi wasn't backing down and you were taken aback. His body guards Thanos from approaching close to you a step further. Why was he doing this? The clock on the wall took no pause for this. Clearly, this little confrontation was only wasting time. Thanos backed down but "took it to heart." He placed his hands on his chest in a quick heart rate motion. "You hurt my feelings MG Coin. Thanos never forgets." He emphasized his statement as he and the two other players walked away in the opposite direction.

☓﹕As as the three men leave out of sight he's already turning around to face you. "Are you okay?" His voice was signaturely dry but almost sweet. Outwardly trying to sound as apologetic as possible without saying it. You hadn't seen Myung-gi act like that in a while. It definitely made something in you stir. But you weren't going to say anything of that. He was met with a similar closed-off attitude he was met with by Jun-hee. This time with anger simmering beneath the surface. ☓﹕"Is that your way of apologizing?" You remarked with no remorse. "I-I do feel terrible about what I said. Please... I'll explain it to you after you join me." Your eyebrows creased, your expression reading like he had just dropped a bomb of news onto you. "You don't have a team and the people I partnered with - we need one more person... I'm begging you." His voice was finally filled with genuine emotion and emotion that wasn't him whining about problems he caused. ☓﹕"Fine." Your response was one note but that's all that he needed. He led you over to the group of older men. They were much more friendly faces than some of the participants you had to interact with. The game was finally introduced, more like the game and minigames were introduced. Right away, as soon as the monotone voice on the speakers was done explaining the ins and outs, you all started talking about what games would be your biggest strengths. ☓﹕Watching each team go up was like a game of chance. Either both teams would cross the finish line with triumph and hurrahs of joy and relief. One would have their moment in the spotlight of victory while the other would be mercilessly gunned down. Teams who didn't even make it past the second or third game would be shot without notice by the time the timer was done. You tried to stay as focused as you could, examining the surviving team's strategies for your group's potential success.

☓﹕By the time yours and Myung-gis's team went up, there was still a pretty size-able audience left of players. You kept your hands gripped into fists as a circle guard locked your ankles together. The previous rounds of gunfire from the guards still rang in your ears. But your top priority was to survive all five games and make it out of this one alive. You weren't going to die running around a rainbow road playing some small little minigames anytime soon, that was below you. The five of you felt that same momentum coursing through your veins , and then you were off.

☓﹕The sportsmanship that coursed through the crowd with previous teams was already heavy. But experiencing that yourself felt electrifying. Like the only time players who wanted to leave and those who wanted to stay felt truly equal. It was another asset that pushed you and your fellow teammates to finish every game with perfect precision. Your mind wasn’t focused on your potential demise when your turn arrived. The cheers made you focus on the task in front of you.

☓﹕It was with Myung-gis's final kick that your team made it. You made it with time to spare! Arms quickly locked together, each final step you and your teammates made was quick and firm. Everyone erupted with applause and cheers as your team jumped around with utter relief and joy. You had the freedom to walk out with your spirits still held, being led back to the dormitory by a couple of the guards. ☓﹕Making it back, there were only a few teams in there. You had recognized the same familiar face of the older woman. The same woman who was conversing with Jun-hee and one of the winning teams. Other groups of players were littered around in tight units. Only some looked back to the door to see who arrived back. ☓﹕ It was a lot more quieter now compared to before the second game began. This made sense since more five-player teams still had to compete and make it out alive. The door unlatched open and you were absorbed in the ambiance of whispers and emptiness. You gave gentle nods of recognition as your older teammates boasted about your combined success. You noticed how sullen Myung-gi was. ☓﹕Your stomach contorted as a deep sigh left you. "Hey." He heard you call out to him. You were walking directly behind him. He slowly spun around to face you. His eyes bore into the ground under the two of you. "I-I know I... I know I messed up. Especially with you and I am sorry." He looked up to face you. But you were trying to guide him away to a more secluded area of the multiple bunks. He followed you like a lost puppy. ☓﹕You sat down on the edge of a random bunk, the metal under you squeaking at the sudden pressure. He sat down right beside you, arms hanging low in his lap. You looked to him as to give him the room to speak, to "explain himself." You could hear how tight his chest was while he spoke. Bursts of air left his upper frame at every grating word that left his mouth. ☓﹕"When I met you... I was a mess." Your head lulled in a nod as a sign for him to continue. "I had hurt so many people, so many people I once held close to me. But you didn't know who I was. You looked at me like... no one else had. You were someone who still thought of me with some respect. I-I didn't want to ruin the image you had of me so I was a coward and hid that from you." A shaky chuckle left him. His words were so warm, they reminded you of the good times you two shared together. But you were past feeling pity for him, it was more so guilt now. Guilt for a relationship built on falsities that you participated in. ☓﹕Your head turned in his general direction. But your eyes didn't meet him. "Were you using me?", you bluntly asked. "No... I took the help you offered me. I was happy with you-" Your eyes began to water. "I know about Jun-hee." He almost looked surprised as the two of you locked eyes. "... I didn't know about it. I didn't know she kept it." A sheepish chuckle left you as you wiped away falling tears from your eyes. Dribbling down your cheeks, staining them with your constant reminder of turmoil. You didn't want to cry in front of him, but he noticed. ☓﹕"My life was falling apart. I had people out there who wanted to see me hang for what I had done. Which ... wasn't entirely my fault if you think about it. I met you and you closed up all my wounds. You didn't look at me with shame so many others did. I finally felt good about myself for once in a very long time. But then my feelings just grew too complicated. I didn't want to pop our little bubble.. so... I ran away." ☓﹕"You're an asshole." Your words had so much emotion in them. But he couldn't help himself. "I know I am. I regret the times I could have been better... for you." A long and lengthy pause for silence grew in between the two of you. You rubbed your eyes as you thought of whatever you could say next. You were too tired to argue with him. "Do you promise me that if you make it out of this alive, with her, you'll be a better man..?" It was a dumb question to ask of him. Could men like Myung-gi ever change?

☓﹕"Yes. One hundred times yes." He nodded his head adamantly. Your expression was bittersweet. Your head lulled in a nod one more time before you just sat there with him. He turned his head away from your direction. Staring down into the floor, the silence shared between the two of you was almost comforting. It was a familiar sort of ember that burned in the coldness that was your entire relationship. -> "I hate your guts." He smiled, hearing an emotion that wasn't resentment in your voice. "You have every right to."

― ꒰AUTHORS NOTE: Aghhh I know this one was really angsty I'm sorry!! Guys, I love angst can you tell? The idea seemed so somber like u 2 r so tragic it’s aghhhhhh. I really hope this was an enjoyable read. If you’re interested in sending me a request , check out my currently pinned post<3 Ly all , byeee!!! ( ^ . . ^ )

[skiagraphe0]

My father was put on Ozempic. He's diabetic. It being prescribed for a group it was designed for doesn't make it less dangerous. He is 5"9 and currently weighs 130 lbs - and that's after a year and a half of trying to recover the muscle he lost from being on it for six months. Because he's an immigrant whose first language isn't English and he has the equivalent of an 8th grade education, his medical and scientific knowledge is extremely limited. He trusted his doctor. If she said this was good for him, he believed it must be. If she said that being thin was a sign of health, he thought surely she must know what she was talking about - and his parents were olive farmers with thin, lean bodies, so that must be how health works, right?

He had a stroke. He lost 65 pounds in six months. He became so weak he struggled to stand without getting dizzy. At his lowest weight, when he had his stroke, I could see his spine. He had heart palpitations and struggled to speak in English because when your brain is chronically starved of nutrients, it often defaults to your first language/cannot process speaking/hearing others. His short term memory worsened.

I'm the only person here who speaks his first language. As in, there's less than fifty thousand people in the United States who speak it at all, and we're on the opposite side of the country from the one community of Uzbeks in the US. Imagine being too weak to sit up, unable suddenly to understand everyone around you, elderly, in pain you've never experienced before, and the one person who could help you has to rush home from France to Montana to get there. For three days he was in the hospital without any way of communicating with or to the medical personnel there. I blew through my savings to get back to him as fast as possible but I know, deep down, that there's unspoken, vast amounts of trauma from those three days he spent in effectively involuntary isolation.

All because he trusted his doctor, who assured him that thin = healthy, that if she said a medication was good, it had to be good for him. He wasn't even overweight to start with. Muscle weighs more than fat and he used to have muscle, but even with that, his BMI - which is an inaccurate, medically debunked BS method doctors insist on treating like fact - classified him as normal. But normal wasn't good enough. He needed to be thin to be seen as healthy.

Diabetics aren't being put on this to regulate their blood sugar, not all the time. Some of them are. Some of them have doctors who think being thin is the single most important thing/the best indicator of health.

I know I struggle with an eating disorder so this may sound like hypocrisy coming from me but: your life is more important than your weight.

Your life is more important than anything and everything about your appearance.

Just because a doctor suggests something doesn't make it safe.

I have been debating sharing this for some time, but with the new year weight loss ads amping up, I feel it's something I have to say. I'm worried for people's health.

Unless you've been living under a rock, you probably already know about people taking the diabetic drug ozempic for weight loss. You've probably heard the debates about the ethics of taking needed drugs away from diabetes patients and maybe even the side effect of "ozempic face." However, there is one side effect of taking these drugs that, in my opinion, people are not being warned about.

If you carefully pay attention to the television ads, you will hear them mention "pancreatitis" as a possible side effect. If you're like me a decade ago, that word probably means nothing to you. Let me warn you, however, it is no minor thing. My husband suffered from chronic pancreatitis for five agonizing years. The pain is beyond comprehension. Doctors who specialize in the pancreas describe it as the worst pain a human can endure. There is no actual cure. Little is understood about the disease, so treatment is difficult. Doctors who understand it are few and far between. It took my husband forever to get diagnosed. He went through multiple surgeries and procedures, but nothing worked. He had to go on an extremely limiting diet. If he varied from it in any way, he would have an attack. The only way to recover from an attack was to not eat at all for days, then slowly add in broth and jello. Did he lose weight? Yes. As a matter of fact, one day he stepped out of the shower, and I burst into tears at the sight of him. He was skin and bones - I could count every rib. Was it worth it to be thin? If you even ask that question, I'm concerned for your mental health.

They couldn't figure out exactly why my husband got pancreatitis. At that time, they thought only alcoholics and drug addicts got pancreatitis. This made it difficult to get compassionate medical care, unfortunately. Now they know that prescription medication (particularly diabetic medication) and high cholesterol can also cause it. Then there is another group - where they just don't know. But you better believe I would hesitate to take any medication that could cause pancreatitis. I would weigh my options carefully to assess if it was worth the risk. In my opinion, weight loss is not worth that risk.

My concern has been heightened seeing the Hers commercials for these drugs (under different names, but rest assured, it is the same thing). These commercials brag that you can get these drugs from Hers with just a simple virtual call, no questions asked. I wonder if people are fully aware of the risks of these drugs. I also wonder if we even know all of the risks yet. I also fear that the culture around these drugs could develop into an us vs. them mentality. That if it's so easy to be thin, why wouldn't you be? And some are getting dangerously thin on these drugs.

I know some diabetics who are on these drugs, and necessarily so. They tell me that it causes nausea when they eat. That's why they don't eat much. Again, that doesn't sound like a pleasant way to live. If you need it to regulate your blood sugar, that's one thing. But if you don't? Why would you do this to yourself?

My husband is now healed of pancreatitis. It was a miracle. You may not believe in that sort of thing, but I'm telling you, there is no other explanation. We had exhausted every medical solution, then the pandemic hit. We were concerned because hospitals were only taking life or death cases. What if he had a bad attack and needed an iv of pain meds? What would we do? Weeks passed - no pain. A month passed - no pain. Six weeks passed - no pain. He decided to grill a steak - something he hadn't been able to even take a nibble of in 5 years. I watched him take a bite, holding my breath. Nothing. He ate the whole thing. No pain. Five years later, still no pain. The doctors can't explain it, either.

So our story has a happy ending. Not everyone else's does. I hope people take the time to read this. If you do, please, please share it. I don't want anyone suffering needlessly.

[dissvicious]

Alone in Wano - 2 / 2

A/N: THANK YOU SO MUCH for how y'all welcomed the first part of this little flic, I was SO nervous about it and I'm really really happy that it made you feel things! here is the second & last part, thanks again @a-killer-obsession for beta reading, platonically kissing you on the mouth buddy ♥ No content warning but maybe don't read if you're not comfortable with pregnancy & delivery stuff, and KidLaw is mentioned as a joke, maybe light Wano spoilers too

Part 1

“NO FUCKING WAY IN HELL. I'D RATHER DELIVER ALONE BY THE RIVER AND LET MY NEWBORN DRINK WATER FROM KAIDO'S FACTORIES THAN LETTING YOUR EMO-ASS FINGERS ANYWAY NEAR MY CUNT SO BACK OFF.” 

Law looked up at the ceiling, passing a hand on his face and taking a huge breath. He pondered for a moment if he could just leave the abandoned house and leave Nina on her own without checking her up. He rubbed his temple, looking down at the small woman in front of him, and tried to calm his nerves.

“Stop acting like a moron, Pinky-ya. You've lost a lot of blood, and I have more important business to attend. Just let me check if the baby's doing well, and I'll leave you alone.” 

Nina pouted and crossed her arms - a face she used to make to wrap men around her little finger. However that somehow had no effect on this stupid depressive doctor. Maybe her big pregnant belly blocked her cuteness aggression abilities? Maybe he was just an ass. She tilted her head, studying his face. By some ways he reminded her of Wire, which made her nostalgic.

That's not how things were supposed to happen. When Killer - at least the man she'd mistaken for Killer - hit her with his scythes, she lost consciousness and barely remembered anything then. She woke up in the small cabin she shared with Hiyori and Toko, curled in her bed, an immense pain radiating from her lower half. Hiyori did what she could to stop the bleeding but it was clear she needed a doctor to check if the baby was alright. By chance, running to the flower Capital, they bumped into Law, who was looking for his crewmates. Roronoa pushed her against the black haired guy like some kind of heavy packet with a mumbled “needs a doctor for pregnancy shit, Torao” before walking away, leaving both of them flabbergasted, and here she was. 

However, she quickly made clear that in no way Law could approach her, let alone touch her or look between her legs. Each of his attempts to do so ended up with him being hissed at and insulted, her nails threatening to claw his eyes out. There was a persistent rumor running through the new generation that Law and Kid had a quick fling at Sabaody, and even if it was long before Kid and Nina met, even if she never met Law before and even if Kid always denied it, it was enough to fuel her jealousy and hate towards this stupid ass doctor and his stupid ass poseur tattoos and his stupid ass spotted hat. 

“Come on, Pinky-ya,” Law insisted, looking at her with all the softness he was able to gather - which wasn't a lot, “just let me do a quick check up and I'll leave. I'll use my power, I won't have to touch you. Let me check if the baby is ok, at least.”

Nina hesitated, nipping her lips. She caressed her belly and thought for a moment. As much as it cost her to admit it, Law was right. She was worried sick about her unborn child. Since the attack, she suffered from heavy cramps, and she had lost a lot of blood. Tired and worried, she decided to put her ego aside and gave up. She lied on her elbows, uncrossing her arms, silently agreeing to let him do so.

Law closed his eyes and mentally thanked whatever god was listening to him for her cooperation, impatient to be done with this feral girl who seemed to hate him for no reason - not that he cared a lot. He conjured a room and used Kikoku to inspect Nina's body. Immediately, he frowned. 

“What? Something's wrong?” Nina asked in a surprising soft voice.

“How far along are you in your pregnancy, Pinky-ya?”

“About 7 months, why?”

Law put down Kikoku and looked down at her, understanding at the moment that he was far from being done with this girl. 

“You're in labor,” he said bluntly, looking her in the eyes. 

Nina sat up immediately, gritting teeth as she felt an intense pain in her lower abdomen. 

“No,” she cried, “he's too small, he wouldn't survive.”

Law sat on his heels, pondering his options. They were alone, in an abandoned house. With his devil fruit he could stop the labor, but he wasn’t experienced enough with pregnancy to trust his abilities to do so safely. Not to mention the mother lost a lot of blood, and the probable placental abruption the hit induced. There wasn't any good choice in this situation.

“7 months, he has good chances to survive,” Law said, trying to be reassuring.

Nina shook her head, putting her hands on her belly as to protect it from him, tears flooding down her cheeks. “No, no. You’re a doctor aight? And you have some shitty doctor power, so use them to stop the labor, I can’t deliver now, I can’t do it.”

As Law looked down at her, he suddenly felt a wave of pity for Nina. With her hands on her belly and the mix of anger and fear in her eyes, she looked like a feral creature protecting her cub. At this moment, he understood that behind all this though girl attitude and aggression, she was probably deeply scared and anxious.

“Pinky-ya,” Law said with a stern voice, looking right in her bright green eyes, “right here and now the best option for you and your baby is to deliver. If he stays in, with the blood loss and without any good hospital around, I can’t ensure his survival. I’m not sure, but I think your placenta broke. If you deliver, though, I could use my ‘shitty doctor power' to check for any issue and heal them if necessary.”

Nina shook her head again, closing her eyes as tears flooded down her cheeks. She was terrified at the idea of delivering alone without her lovers, without her family, on a dirty floor in an empty house. “I … I can't do this I need Kid and Killer, I can't -”

Law grabbed her knees and looked down at her with a stern glance. “You can, and you will. I won't let you nor your baby die.” 

Nina held his glance, and something in his face provoked a change in her. For the first time she felt that her anger toward him might have been misplaced. It was clear that he wanted to do everything he could to save her baby, and that’s what mattered. She nodded weakly, tears flooding down her cheeks.

“Alright Trafalgar. I trust you.”

Next hour felt like a torture for both of them. 

Nina was lying on her back, gritting teeth and crying, following Law's instructions as he was trying to help the labor, looking between her legs, trying to fight the urge to run out of the house and vomit on the ground. He saw a lot of body horror in his life but it was the first time he helped with birth giving and to say the least, he wasn't comfortable with the whole thing. If it wasn't to save an innocent baby's life he would have left this shit behind him. 

After trying different positions to help the labor, he gave up and looked at her. “It won’t work. You're too weak after bleeding this much. We need to do a C-section”

Nina whined and looked down at him “Again?!”

“You already had a C-section?”

“Not much of a choice when you're 5’0” and have to deliver a 16 pound baby…”

Law winced. Two C-sections, in a short amount of time… that was risky. But with his powers, he could manage to make it safe for her and her baby. “Pinky-ya, do you trust me?”

Nina surprised herself when she realized the answer was yes. They didn't appreciate each other, that was clear. However, he still went out of his way, stopped as he was going to look after his men, because she needed help and he was the only one able to provide it. Her eyes met his, and a silent comprehension passed between the two of them. Law stood up and raised up his hand.

“Room,” he said with his deep voice, the house around them suddenly glowing in a blue light. He looked down at her, trying to locate her womb and the baby in it with as much precision as possible, using both his devil fruit and his Haki to help him do so. It was the first time he had to do something like this, and he was a bit nervous. 

He took a deep breath to steady, before turning his hand, fingers pointing up. “Shambles.”

What happened next mesmerized both of them. Without any pain or suffering, a round hole opened in Nina’s belly. Her baby, wonderful, amazing, the size of a regular baby despite being preterm, flew up from it, umbilical cord still attached to both of them as Law created a protective bubble around him to replace the amniotic bag. 

For a moment, the whole house went silent, Law and Nina both transfixed by the sight in front of them. The baby already had a mess of blonde hair on his head, leaving little to no doubt to who his father was. For Law it conjured bittersweet images, images of someone he used to know and loved like a father, in another life.

After a few moments, Law snapped back to reality, and used his powers to cut the umbilical cord, proceeding to check for any issues in the newborn before giving him to Nina. 

“I did everything I could,” he whispered, a hint of worry in his voice, “now, he has to scream.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Nina held her baby against her, cradling him softly. 

“Please,” she whispered, “please sweetheart please. Please scream. Please.” 

After what seemed like an eternity, loud screams and cries echoed in the house. Nina burst into tears, hugging her newborn baby, holding him carefully as if afraid to break him, humming the scent of his head, peppering kisses on his little face. 

She looked up at Trafalgar, who was sitting on the ground, catching his breath as well.

“Thank you” she whispered.

“No problem” he answered, and Nina could swear she saw him smile.

[thisisjustfanfic]

~ Some drabbles of the LADS Men and Hair~

(Done as a writing warmup) ===LADS x Reader===

Xavier:

The least particular about his hair, he couldn't care less how it looks. The only time he even thinks about it is when its starts to get in his eyes. It only happens every few decades, as his hair grows at the same rate that he ages....which is slow.

Like most people he likes ot have his hair played with, but there's something about that just really soothes him. A few gentle pets and he's off to sleep.

Your hair might be different in this life, but he still loves it. He remembers how you used to do it back on Philos, and always gets a little flustered when you do it similarly now.

One of his favorite activities is the little beauty rituals you do, and he's always quietly eager for you to ask him to join him. Quiet evenings after a long day where you put your and his hair up and slather your faces in some new mud mask that smells like roses or lemon. The little bunny headband that shows up next to yours in the bathroom drawer is there inescplicably. And the new set of hair clips. And the under eyes masks.

During those nights, he'll comb through your hair. Taking his time to meticulously untangle each and ever knot, working so slowly you never even feel a tug. It's ritualistic. It's worship.

Zayne:

He's not too picky about his hair, but he likes to keep it groomed. A haircut every three months is mandatory, and he's been seeing the same barber since he was young. There's no fuss or frill to it, just practicality. He can't have crazyu hair products or unruly hair while in the OR.

While he's not vain, he does take some pride in his appearance, and messing up his hair can sometimes irk him a bit. Not enough to remark back, but enough to cup your fac in his hands and give your cheeks a soft pinch. A low warning about ruffling your hair too if need be. He'd never actually do it, but its fun to him to see the little pout on your face.

Your hair is a different story to him. Like other parts of you, its an integral perfect part fo you. The color of it sticking so firmling in his mind that a flash of it out the corner of his eye will have his heart skipping a beat. Constantly in search of you.

When you're together, he likes when its down. He understand that hunters need their hair up most of the time, so it's nice to see you in this way. Like a special treat, just for him.

He'll softly run his hands through it. Tender, tiny touches, never rustling more than a few strands at a time. Whether you're watching a movie, or sitting and working near each other, he'll find some way to fiddle with it. Tucking some out of your face. Adjusting an errant strand. Something.

Rafayel:

The most particular about his hair than the rest of the boys, but by no means fussy. Though compared to others he can be. His hair is used to water, and so can dry out easily. He struggled for a long time to maintain it-- inexplicable frizz and split ends arising enough to make him want to just cut it.

But if looked different...if he cut it, how would you recognize him? A bitter part of him hissed that you weren't here. That this life was one to live without you. But that hopeful part of him....that yearning ember that burned with the vow he made, held onto the hope too tightly.

So he kept his hair as close as he could to what it had been before. To the other times he'd been luck enough to meet you.

Once he's gotten a reputation as a painter and has a public persona, Thomas helps him. Sends him to a stylist who regularly douses him in deep conditioner and oil treatments.

It's a pain, but tolerable. Like most things.

When you come back to him, you take over his haircare. He insists. You set up in his oversized bathroom and help him figure out the deep conditioner. MAssaging his scalp and doting on him.

He's melting sugar in your palm, too spoiled to find anything to complain when you've got your fingers in his hair. It becomes a vice of his. A little ruffle or a pet and his breathing stutters.

He finds hair care for your hair too. A conditioner or clarifying treatment, insisting you take part in the ritual he's subjected to. Only he won't let you put it on yourself- even though you can.

He lingers. Running his fingers through your hair far longer than necessary.

After waiting for so long, any touch is too short. Every moment of contact is prolonged to its absolute length.

Sylus:

He's a man of particular tastes, but has a hard time trusting people. So he can't exactly go to a barber. Letting someone near his neck with scissors or worse a razor? No thanks.

He cuts his own hair, with the help of his evol and a few mirrors. It's taken him a while to figure it out, but it'll do.

He's the one who likes his hair being played with the lost, will go so far as to ask for it. At first its a taunt, a playful jab at you to see if you get flustered at the request.

You're surprised by how quickly he melts when you start touching him. Runing your fingers through his soft silver hair until he's practically purring.

Its a dangerous activity for him, because more often than not he ends with his head in your lap and on the brink of sleep. Unable to stop himself from sinking into the delicious feeling of your warm touch, and the reassuring hum from the linkage.

Since he's one to spoil you, anything you want for your hair is yours to have. A new haircare regimine? Ordered. New hair appliance? 1-Day Shipping. A personal stylist? Done.

[foreverisntenough]

‘Movie Night’

Summary: If only life was like the movies. For years, you’d flirted with the idea of something more with Trent, your brother’s best friend.  You'd always danced around the edges of something more with him, sharing flirty moments that felt like scenes straight from the cinema. You had been silently desperate for the main character of your life’s film to finally get the boy but you knew moments like that were saved for Hollywood. The lines were clear; you were always going to be his mate’s little sister. So what happens when you go off script? In a whirlwind of passion, secrets, and stolen moments, you're left wondering: will you and your brother's best friend get the happy ending you've been waiting for, or was it never meant to be more than a fantasy? 

Index:

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI [ smut, dv, loss of a parent, drinking - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series!

Disclaimer: Still the same.

Chapter 21 - 'Suffocated’ | ‘Movie Night'

word count - 11.2 k

Trent staggered into his home, the quiet darkness wrapping around him like a suffocating blanket. Every step he took was heavy, weighed down by the events of the night. His house keys clattered onto the counter, the sharp sound echoing through the stillness, but it barely registered. His head was spinning—not just from the alcohol but from the chaos, the betrayal, and the sheer weight of the situation. He ran a hand down his face, dragging it over his mouth, trying to steady his breathing. His chest felt tight, like he couldn’t get enough air. Images of you in the club flashed in his mind: your tear-streaked face, your trembling hands as you tried to hold yourself together, and the look in your eyes when he barely even began to tell you those horrible, false words. He felt sick to his stomach. He walked into his bedroom, his movements jerky, his anger bubbling just beneath the surface. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides as he paced, his thoughts racing. The memory of Josh’s smug grin haunted him, the way he’d dangled that video like a loaded gun. And Jess—how could she do this? How could she lie and hurt you, of all people? Trent stopped in the middle of the room, his breaths coming fast and shallow. The emotions he’d been holding back all night—the rage, the guilt, the heartbreak—surged forward, overwhelming him. Without thinking, he let out a guttural scream, the sound raw and primal, and drove his fist into the nearest wall. The drywall cracked under the force of his punch, a jagged hole splintering outward from the impact. The pain shot up his arm, sharp and immediate, but it didn’t matter. It didn’t hurt nearly as much as the ache in his chest. He stared at the broken wall, his knuckles throbbing and speckled with dust. The anger left him as quickly as it had come, replaced by a tidal wave of despair. His shoulders slumped, and he sank to the floor, his back pressed against the wall. He rested his elbows on his knees, his hands clutching his hair as he fought to keep his emotions at bay. But it was no use. The first tear slipped down his cheek, and then another, and before he knew it, he was sobbing. Trent couldn’t remember the last time he cried—it had been years, maybe even a decade. But now, alone in his empty house, the weight of everything was too much to bear. He cried for you, for the way he’d hurt you, for the lies he’d told, and for the love he’d destroyed.

His mind replayed every moment of the night in vivid detail: the way you looked at him, the way Jack had nearly torn him apart, the way Josh had so effortlessly unraveled his life. And through it all, one thought kept repeating in his head: he’d failed you.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice barely above a whisper. The words echoed in the empty room, hollow and meaningless. “I’m so sorry.” He buried his face in his hands, his tears soaking into his palms. The silence of the room pressed in on him, broken only by his ragged breaths and the occasional hitch of his sobs. He was all alone. He didn’t know how long he sat there, crumpled on the floor, his body shaking with the force of his emotions. Time felt meaningless. Eventually, the tears slowed, leaving him feeling empty and drained. He leaned his head back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling with red, puffy eyes. His knuckles throbbed, and his chest ached, but nothing hurt as much as the realization that he might have lost you for good. He stayed there, slumped on the floor, the broken wall beside him a physical reminder of the damage he’d done. And as the night stretched on, one thought consumed him: how could he ever go on without you. You’d been there his entire life. You were in every memory, every high, every low, you were everywhere. You saturated every moment of his and dug your heels so deep into his heart, he had barely even noticed you’d pierced straight through it. He felt like his heart was about to flatline, give out entirely without you there, leaving behind the gaping hole you’d cut that nothing, no one, and no amount of time could heal. He was bleeding out for you.  

Jack leaned back on the sofa, his hands running over his face as he tried to make sense of it all. The room was dimly lit, the silence between him and Noah broken only by their low voices.

“Jess said she didn’t hook up with him,” Jack started, his voice heavy with frustration, “but what I don’t get is why he didn’t fight back, you know, bro? Why didn’t he clear it up if that’s the case? He just left.” Jack looked for answers Noah didn’t have. Noah exhaled deeply, his gaze fixed on a point across the room. 

“Mate, can I be honest?” Noah asked haphazardly. Jack nodded looking for anyone he trusted’s input because sadly, at the minute, his usual confidants were the very culprits of the problem at hand. “Bro, something doesn’t sit right with me. I know you’re pissed and that’s valid. No one wants Y/N hurt and upset but something’s off. That’s not Trenty. He put in a proper hard shift in to get her to be his girlfriend. He made too many waves just trying to even get with Y/N in the first place. This…fuck, the whole thing… this doesn’t make sense.” Noah explained just as discombobulated but equally in search of clarity yet with a bit more hope in Trent’s character. Jack nodded again slowly, rubbing the back of his neck, reluctantly agreeing. 

“A part of me feels like he must’ve, though… you know? I feel like because so many people were upset, Jess now was just trying to cover for him. And she said she likes him.” His voice grew quieter as he recalled Jess’s confession. “There had to have been more there. There must’ve been an overlap or something. There has to be.” Jack spoke his thoughts aloud. He didn’t want to believe it but there was to big of a mess left behind for it to be nothing.  Noah turned to him, his expression incredulous. 

“She likes him?” He scoffed, shaking his head. “I don’t really believe that. That’s ridiculous. She doesn’t know him, mate. They might’ve hooked up a few times, but that’s it and it was ages ago. And to that point, he’d kick her out right after. She doesn’t even know the lad. Not really. Maybe his salary but not him as a person.” Noah looked at Jack for a moment, hoping he would be getting on his page. Jack was quiet for a moment, letting Noah’s words sink in. He was right, Jess didn’t know Trent and she definitely didn’t know him like you did. Would Trent sacrifice it all for someone he barely knew?

“You think it’s made up, then?” Jack asked, unsure of his own opinion anymore. 

“I don’t know, but it doesn’t add up. Not with Trenty. We know end of the day he’s a good lad, even when he’s a bit of a knob sometimes. But with Y/N… he’s the best lad. If he was hitting Jess, he wouldn’t have ever started things with your sister like this. And… I don’t mean to make it awkward for you but didn’t we all know they’d get together? They are end game, bro.” Noah looked at Jack pleadingly. He couldn’t believe their best mate would do this. He was making a case for Trent he wasn’t even sure was true but he’d try because he believed in him. “Mate, he’s been in love with her for years. Y/N and him are like proper in love. They say it to each other, she’s sleeping at his house, he takes care of her. Always has. It doesn’t make sense…. He loves her in a way I can hardly even understand, you know that too.” Noah sheepishly continued on knowing the very idea of this relationship had been hard for Jack to stomach, let alone its demise. Jack sighed heavily, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. 

“I… I.. guess.” Jack muttered knowing that all the points Noah made were valid but they didn’t wash away the other things that had happened, had been said. “Yeah, but the thing is Megan…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “She said she knew about Trent and my sister. Said nothing about Jess. But if she knew about them, why didn’t she tell me? Why didn’t anyone tell me?” He asked openly still not completely over your relationship with Trent in its entirety, especially now that it was up in flames with no sight of being extinguished. Noah shrugged. 

“Maybe she thought it wasn’t her place. Or maybe she was trying to protect Y/N, knowing you’d lose your head about it.” Noah smirked sympathetically. Jack shook his head, staring at the floor. 

“I gotta talk to Meg. I gotta apologize. I was too harsh with her, it wasn’t right.” Jack muttered mostly to himself. He felt so guilty. She was just caught in the crossfire but that didn’t make any of it okay. 

“You should,” Noah agreed. “But what about Trenty?” He asked expectedly. Jack’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing. 

“I’m not ready for that yet. Y/N’s a mess, mate. She’s broken. He fucked up regardless of what the truth is.” Noah nodded, but his mind was elsewhere. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this whole situation was more complicated than it seemed. He knew Trent, really knew him, Jack did too but he was too close. This didn’t sit right with Noah. 

“I hear ya, Jack,” Noah said, standing up. “But I need to talk to Trent. I need to hear his side properly. I’m not settling until I know the whole truth.” He explained, gently but surely. Jack looked up at Noah, his expression torn. He didn’t trust Trent right now, but a part of him wanted answers too.

 “Yeah, fine,” he muttered, standing up as well.  “But if he tries to play you, or if he’s not straight with you…” Jack threatened, not really with any venom but more so with exhaustion. He was just so frustrated at how messy things had gotten. 

“I’ll handle it,” Noah assured him. “You’ve got my word. I really don’t want to lose movie nights.” Noah smirked cheekily. It was just Noah’s backwards way of being sincere. He wanted to help. Jack nodded hoping he could assist because he didn’t want to lose movie nights either and least of all his friendship with Trent.

A day had passed, and the silence was deafening. Trent sat on the edge of his bed, his phone clutched in his hand, staring at the endless stream of unanswered messages and missed calls he’d sent to Jack. He hadn’t dared to try you—not yet. Every time he hovered over your name, his thumb froze, his mind spiraling into doubt. What could he even say? That he’d been blackmailed? That Jess had lied? Would you believe him, or would it just sound like another excuse? The thought of you, hurt and angry, twisted his stomach into knots. He scrubbed a hand down his face and hit redial on Jack’s number, fully expecting to hear the voicemail tone again. But this time, it didn’t come. A click on the other end was followed by a sharp voice.

“What do you want bro?” Jack answered, his hostility cutting through the silence like a knife. Trent’s heart raced.

“Jack. I need to see you,” he said quickly, the words spilling out before Jack could hang up. “I need to explain.” When Jack heard the words all he could think of was your face. The way you’d been sobbing for hours inconsolably. His anger wasn’t something he could push down. He was mad at Trent, no matter the circumstance. 

“What’s there to explain, mate,” Jack snapped. “You’re not coming near my fucking house or my sister. Do you understand me?” He threatened his best friend of years, now sounding like a stranger he hated. If Noah wanted to dig for unsurfaced truths he could, but to Jack the only thing that mattered was that you were hurting and nothing would fix that. 

“Then come to me,” Trent pleaded, his voice cracking. “Please, Jack. You have to hear me out.” He took a shaky breath, his desperation slipping through. “You need to understand.” Jack paused on the other end, the silence tense. 

“Understand what?” he bit out. “That you cheated on her? That you fucked her over? That you lied to all of us? Again…” His voice grew louder, each accusation hitting Trent like a blow.

“I didn’t—” Trent started, but his voice broke, and he stopped to compose himself. “It’s not what you think. Please, Jack,” he whispered, his voice thick. He sniffled audibly, and Jack froze. Was he crying? Jack sighed heavily, his anger faltering for just a moment. Something about Trent’s tone—it wasn’t defensive or self-righteous. It was broken. And that shook him. Maybe what Jess had admitted was true. That this whole sequence of events wasn’t entirely clear cut and true. Maybe there was more to this mess than he’d thought. Maybe he should follow Noah’s lead and look beneath the surface. 

“Where?” Jack finally said, his voice gruff but less hostile. Trent exhaled in relief, his grip on the phone tightening. 

“My place, I don’t care, anywhere, mate,” he said quickly. “Whenever you can. Please.” Jack didn’t respond immediately. 

“Fine,” he said eventually. “But if I don’t like what I hear, it’s done. Yeah?” He cautioned Trent.

“Yeah,” Trent whispered, his voice small. “I got it.” Jack hung up without another word, and Trent sat there, staring at his phone, his chest tight. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. It was a chance. And right now, that was all he could hope for. 

It was a days time between that phone call until Jack entered the room, the air felt heavy, oppressive, as though it carried the weight of all the chaos and heartbreak from the past few days. Trent sat on the edge of the couch, his shoulders hunched, his hands nervously clasped between his knees. His eyes were fixed on the floor, unable to meet Jack’s piercing glare. Noah stood to the side, shifting awkwardly, clearly caught in the crossfire of tension, ready to be a mediator. 

“Hey…” Noah started, his voice uncertain, as if testing the waters.

“Yo…” Jack replied curtly, stepping further into the room. His gaze flicked to Trent, sharp and calculating, before landing back on Noah. He didn’t sit, his posture stiff and unyielding.

“So… erm…” Noah began again, scratching the back of his neck. “I just thought maybe I should be here because I care too, you know…. And I just had to hear Trenty’s side. I told you, it didn’t sit right with me, mate. None of it made sense.” Noah babbled a little nervously for how things were going to go. Jack’s jaw tightened, but to everyone’s surprise, he nodded. 

“I know,” he said simply, his voice low. Both Noah and Trent froze, their eyes snapping to Jack. Trent, who had been bracing for an onslaught, felt his breath catch. Jack’s answer wasn’t what he had expected. Not at all.

“What?” Trent finally managed, his voice hoarse.

“What?” Noah echoed, his confusion mirroring Trent’s. Jack sighed, dragging a hand down his face. 

“I said, I know. I know something’s off. Jess was lying. Megan’s been going on about how things don’t add up, Noah too, and honestly, I’ve been thinking about it more now too.” He explained with a deep exhale. Trent blinked, stunned. He hadn’t allowed himself to hope for this—to think Jack would give him the benefit of the doubt. 

“Mate, I—” Trent tried to speak. Jack held up a hand, silencing him. 

“I didn’t come here to forgive you, alright? I came here to figure out what the hell is going on. Because if you’ve actually hurt her like this, Trent, I swear to God, I’ll make sure you never come near her again.” He threatened but Jack was tired of threats, he just wanted answers. Trent nodded quickly, his throat tight.  Noah was trying to remain impartial, he understood Jack’s anger but he was praying Trent had an answer. Too much time had gone by without one and his faith in Trent was starting to waiver.

“Trent, you’ve gotta just tell us straight… What happened, bro? Did you…” Noah awkwardly pished for some truth, some clarity to lower the temperature of the room that was rapidly rising.  

“I swear on my fucking life. I didn’t do what I said that night. I… I… I love her. I did it for her you have to fucking believe me.” Trent whimpered. He looked like a sad puppy. Jack and Noah had never seen him so weak. There wasn’t an ounce of the confidence that was usually oozing from his pores. He looked broken. 

“So…” Noah probed confused but desperate for Trent to have an answer for it all.  

“I didn’t, do it. I swear. None of it—none of what was said—is true. I’ve been trying to figure out how to fix this without making things worse, but it’s all so fucked up.” His voice cracked, and he rubbed at his eyes, trying to compose himself.

“Alright, then try to explain,” Jack said, crossing his arms. “Because as far as I know, it sounds as if Jess and you have been fucking and since it came out, now you and her are trying to protect yourselves saying you weren’t screwing my little sister over this whole time.” Jack laid out what he knew to true in black and white. Trent inhaled shakily, his hands trembling as he finally looked up at Jack. 

“Mate….” Trent sighed, preparing himself to admit it all to Jack, ready to colorize the lie that got him to this place. “It… it was Josh.” He mumbled.

“Josh? Fuck off. Bro, serious. I’m trying to help you here and it’s just looking like you've been playing with Y/N’s heart.” Noah quipped desperately looking for clarity Trent was continually skirting around. 

“What the fuck does that piece of shit have to do with this? Nah, serious, what the fuck is going on.” Jack threw his head. Not at Trent but at the fact that Josh seemed to lace himself intricately into their lives way too often as of late. 

“I haven’t hooked up with Jess since, swear.” Trent jumped to the chase. “But Josh…” He sighed. “He has a video…” Trent sheepishly admitted. 

“A what?” Noah asked incredulously. Jack tensed. You and Trent together was one thing, but you and Trent together intimately was another.

“A video of us, bro. I don’t know how he got it. He showed me at the club and said he’d send it out if I didn’t tell Y/N I’d been messing about with Jess still, that I needed to leave alone that night or… god fuck!” Trent shouted angrily at the situation he found himself in. “You have to understand, he said he’d release it… I couldn’t let that happen. He was fucked up. He would’ve done it.” Trent muttered. “I couldn’t let him hurt her anymore.” Trent whimpered.

“Fuck… “ Noah seethed. 

“So you haven’t hooked up with Jess?” Jack pressed. 

“No. On my life.” Trent confirmed. “He has this video though of me and Y/N. He said he’d send it to The Sun… I don’t know, literally anywhere, her work, my work, your dad all just to embarrass her, hurt her, tank my reputation using her, ruin her anyway if I didn’t play along. He just wanted to hurt her. He wanted everyone to see her on her knees, bro… It’s … I don’t know how else to explain it, mate but I couldn’t let that happen to her. I couldn’t do that. He was fucked up. He would’ve done it, I could see it behind his eyes. I swear, I honestly didn’t even care about myself, I just cared about protecting her. That’s why I lied. For her. That’s why I said I was with Jess.” He swallowed hard. “I didn’t know what else to do. I was just doing what Josh said so he wouldn’t hurt her, so the video wouldn’t get out.” Trent took a deep breath after his long soliloquy. Jack’s eyes widened slightly, the weight of Trent’s confession sinking in. Noah leaned back in his seat in shock.

“Josh?” Jack repeated, his voice sharp. “You’re saying this is all because of him?” He questioned Trent, his eyes narrowing as if he could gauge the story somehow clearer. 

“Yeah, bro,” Trent said firmly. “He was trying to fuck with her and take me out in the process, Jack. You know what he’s like!” Trent yelped desperately. 

“Jack, the lad’s fucking crazy, he stormed into that party trying to start shit too, he wants to embarrass her. He’s trying to hurt Y/N. That sounds exactly like what he was looking to do that night.” Noah added cautiously. He didn’t want to pile on but he felt maybe it would help Trent’s case and maybe it would help them all remain friends. 

“Crazy is an understatement. He doesn’t fucking care. He just wants to hurt her and I wasn’t going to let that happen. I figured taking the fall would be better. I’d rather her hate me than him think he had control of her. You have to understand, he had the fucking email ready to fire off. He was going to do it, unless I lied, unless I left alone that night. I didn’t have another choice.” Trent babbled frantically, desperate for Jack to understand. Jack’s fists clenched at his sides, his anger simmering just below the surface. 

“That fucking prick,” he muttered. He paced the room for a moment, running a hand through his hair. “Why didn’t you just tell her, Trent? Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked with venom.

“He told me I couldn’t! I couldn’t risk it. He was drunk… what if he sent it right then!” Trent yelped. “I was trying to protect her,” Trent admitted, his voice dropping barely above a whisper. “I didn’t want her to get hurt more than she already had been. But I fucked it up. I know that. I just couldn’t risk it. I just—I didn’t know what else to do. It was better for her to hate me than to let that kid hurt her any more.” Trent whimpered. But as he said his words aloud he realized that maybe it didn’t make enough sense. Jack stopped pacing, his expression hard but less hostile. He studied Trent for a long moment, weighing his words. 

“If you’re lying to us right now, Trent,” he warned, his voice low and dangerous, “I swear, I’ll never forgive you. I’d never  let you near her again. But if you’re telling the truth… we need to fix this. For her.” Jack’s eyes flicked towards Trent and then to Noah looking for some confirmation. 

“I’m telling the truth,” Trent said, his voice firm despite the tears threatening to spill. “I just want to make this right. I don’t want him to hurt her anymore. She’s endured enough. His fucking hands on her, his words, I can see her wince anytime anyone comes near her….” Trent voice shook. And finally… a tear tipped over. Trent was stood in front of his best friends crying. Jack and Noah were stunned. Never had they seen Trent cry. “It’s like she’s prepared for everyone to treat her like she’s already on her knees, to be thrown about and I couldn’t let him hold that over her, I couldn’t. He was going to exploit her, use her. I just couldn't stomach it. It’s breaking my own heart letting her hate me but I do it a million times over before I let him break her spirit once more. I couldn’t-“ Trent’s words were desperate with short gasps trying to catch his breath. He was completely distraught.

“T… mate. Just take breathe for a minute.”Jack spoke, cutting him off. The lump in his throat stifled his words. “Thank you.” Jack admitted and he meant it. The realization that the effects of Josh’s abuse was extending far past the expiration date of your relationship with him hurt Jack. He had to believe Trent. The strain in his voice, the desperation in his eyes, he could see it all written clear as day. 

“We’re gonna sort that fucking son of bitch out.” Noah chirped adamantly about creating a plan to put Josh in his place. Jack nodded slowly, his shoulders relaxing slightly. 

“Alright, then we figure this out. We need to sort this for her… and you know for you two.” Jack admitted through gritted teeth realizing that he was about to do anything to protect not just his little sister but he was about to do anything to protect his little sister’s relationship with his best friend. 

“Just for her, mate. I need to make sure she’s okay. He can’t do this.” Trent answered, his voice breaking.

“I deserved this,” you whimpered, barely able to get the words out. Your voice cracked as if the weight of the pain you were carrying would physically tear you apart. Layla didn’t hesitate. She crawled toward you on the bed, her movements slow and careful, but her arms wrapped around you with urgency, pulling you into her warmth as if she could shield you from everything hurting you.

“You didn’t,” she said firmly, her voice a quiet strength that demanded to be believed. “None of it. Not Trent, not Josh, not Jack and your dad, not your mum. None of this is fair, babe. None of it. But I’m here. I’m always here. You’re going to get through this.” She pressed her forehead against yours gently, grounding you when you felt like your entire world was falling apart. Your skin felt icy, a chill that seeped into your bones and made you feel like you weren’t even in your own body anymore. The detachment scared you, but you couldn’t find the words to explain it. You just stared at the ceiling, tears slipping silently from the corners of your eyes and onto the pillow beneath you.

“I just…” you started, voice trembling, barely audible. “I thought he wanted me.” The words fell from your lips like a confession, raw and bleeding. Your throat tightened as the tears came harder, blurring your vision and making it almost impossible to breathe. “Like someone actually wanted me— He was always so nice to me and I was stupid enough to believe him.” Your voice broke completely as the sobs overtook you, violent and gut-wrenching. You pressed your hands to your face, trying to smother the sound, but it was useless. The pain was too much. It was too big to hide. Layla pulled you closer, cradling you against her chest like a child. 

“Oh, babe,” she murmured, her voice filled with grief and love, trembling as much as your own. “I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve this. You didn’t deserve any of it. You deserve to be loved.” Her hand ran soothingly down your back, but even she was struggling to keep it together. “Not like this. Not in pieces. You deserve to be someone’s whole world.” Her voice cracked at the end, and you could feel her tears against your temple as she tried to hold it together for you. “Please… we’ll come out of this. I promise.” Her words felt so far away, too soft to reach you through the thick fog of anguish you were drowning in. All you could think about was Trent—his smile, his touch, his promises. He had felt like salvation, like the answer to years of brokenness, but now all he felt like was another lie. Another person who had used you and left you worse off than ever before. Every corner of your life felt tainted by him. You could still see him everywhere: you sat in the stands on weekends watching him with the rest of the world and yet somehow he still felt like he was just yours, his hand warm and protective on your waist in crowded clubs, the way he’d rest his head on your lap during lazy movie nights. His laughter, his whispers, his love—if it ever was love—were ghosts haunting every inch of your space. You couldn’t breathe without feeling him, without hurting.

“I can’t get away from him,” you admitted, your voice a shattered whisper. You buried your face in Layla’s chest, as if that might somehow shield you from your own thoughts. “It’s like… he’s everywhere. Everywhere I go, I see him. I feel him.” Your tears soaked through her shirt, but she didn’t care. She held you tighter, her hands never stopping their soothing motions down your back. You couldn’t even go anywhere in your own home, his imprint was ubiquitous; he’d sat in every chair, he’d held every glass, he’d opened every door. Now you found yourself feeling more battered and bruised than anytime Josh had ever touched you. You were starting to feel like maybe emotional hurt was worse than anything physical.

“It’ll take time,” Layla said gently, though her voice shook. “But you’ll get there. I promise. One day, he won’t hurt this much. He won’t have this hold on you. None of them will” You shook your head against her, the pain too fresh for you to believe her. 

“He hurts more than Josh ever did,” you admitted, the words coming out unbidden, your voice raw and bitter. “At least with him, I could see the scars. I could feel the bruises. His hands on me. But this—” You clenched your fists against Layla’s shirt, your body trembling with a fresh wave of sobs. “This is worse. He didn’t just break my heart. He broke me.” Layla froze for a moment, your confession hitting her like a punch to the gut. She felt at fault, guilty that she didn’t see it all. What Josh had done, what Trent apparently had done. She hadn’t known you felt like this, hadn’t realized how deep the wounds Trent could leave behind went. “I never want to see him again but he’s plastered around the entire country. I don’t know how to escape someone I so desperately wanted to see for years. He was the only person I looked at for years. I had complete tunnel vision, focused on him. I just wanted him to look only at me and I wasn’t enough. He looked elsewhere but he’s still all I see… and it hurts.” Slowly, Layla pulled back, cupping your tear-streaked face in her hands, her own eyes swimming with tears. 

“Listen to me,” she said fiercely, her voice trembling with emotion. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for this. You didn’t let him do this. You trusted him because you’re a good person. Because you have a good heart, and you believed he had one too. That’s not on you, babe. That’s on him.” Her words were like a lifeline, pulling you up just enough to take a shaky breath. But the emptiness inside you remained, a hollow ache that seemed too vast to ever be filled. 

“I just want it to stop,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “The pain, the memories… I just want it all to stop.” Layla’s tears spilled over then, but she didn’t let go of you. 

“It will,” she promised, her voice cracking. “I swear it will. And until it does, I’ll be here. Every step of the way, I’ll be here.” Her arms tightened around you again, holding you as if she could keep the pieces of you together by sheer will. And for the first time in days, you let yourself lean into her, the faintest flicker of hope breaking through the suffocating darkness.

When Jack stepped into your room, his stomach twisted in a way he hadn’t felt in years. You didn’t just look sad—you looked like you’d been hollowed out, a shell of the person you used to be. His chest tightened as he took it all in: the dim light from your computer screen illuminating your face, your body wrapped in a blanket like it was the only thing holding you together, the empty water glass on your nightstand and the untouched bowl of snacks Layla must’ve left earlier. You weren’t just grieving—you were unraveling. Jack didn’t knock. He couldn’t. The sight of you like this obliterated every barrier between the two of you. He pushed the door open fully, the creak of the hinges announcing his presence as he stepped inside. The room was suffocatingly dark, the blinds shut tight, sealing you in a cocoon of silence and despair. Without saying a word, Jack walked to the window and yanked the blinds open. The sudden flood of light made you flinch, and you burrowed further under the blanket, shooting him a weak glare.

“Need to get up,” Jack said, his voice gentle but firm. He didn’t move closer right away, instead giving you space to process his words. You blinked at him, your voice hoarse and barely audible. 

“Why?” It wasn’t a challenge, just a broken question. Why get up? Why move? Why try? Jack took a hesitant step closer, his movements slow, like he was afraid you might crumble under the weight of his presence. He sat down on the edge of the bed, close enough to reach you but not close enough to overwhelm you. For a moment, he just looked at you, his eyes scanning your face like he was trying to read the pain etched into every line. 

“Just for me,” he murmured, his voice soft and raw. “Please, Y/N. Just put on some sweats. Wash your face. You don’t have to do anything else. Just… do that for me.” He pleaded. You stared at him for a long moment, your lips trembling as tears welled up in your eyes. The lump in your throat was so thick you could barely breathe. Finally, you gave a small nod, sniffing back the sob that threatened to escape. Slowly, like moving through quicksand, you pushed the blanket off and swung your legs over the side of the bed. Jack didn’t say a word as you stood up, your body heavy and sluggish. He just watched, his heart breaking at how much effort it seemed to take you to even move. You trudged toward the en suite bathroom, the soft shuffle of your feet on the carpet the only sound in the room. Once inside, you closed the door behind you, leaning against it for a moment as you caught your breath. The light from the bathroom mirror was harsh, and when you finally looked up at your reflection, you almost didn’t recognize the person staring back at you. Your eyes were swollen and red, your cheeks blotchy, your hair a mess. You looked like you’d been drained of every ounce of life and energy. Turning the faucet on, you let the cold water run for a moment before splashing it onto your face. The shock of it sent a shiver down your spine, pulling you back into your body for a brief moment. You reached for a towel, patting your face dry as you tried to steady your breathing. The faint murmur of the trash tv you were watching in your room filtered through the door, a reminder that Jack was still there, waiting for you. He hadn’t left.

With shaking hands, you pulled on an oversized hoodie and a pair of joggers from the pile of clothes on the bathroom counter. It was from laundry you should’ve done but menial tasks fell to the wayside, lost on you days ago. The clothes weren’t much, but they felt like armor against the weight of the world pressing down on you. You heard Jack pause the show in the other room leaving the en-suite eerily quiet, the faint hum of the light above doing nothing to break the stillness. You stood still barefoot on the cold tiles, the chill biting at your skin, yet it wasn’t enough to ground you. It felt like you were floating, disconnected from your own body, staring at a reflection in the mirror you barely recognized. The girl staring back looked broken—eyes rimmed red, lips trembling, cheeks stained with tears.

Your gaze shifted downward slightly, catching a glint of gold and blue in the mirror. The earrings. The ones Trent had given you when he sincerely and thoughtfully asked you to be his girlfriend. You had worn them every day since, a tangible reminder of the joy, the love, and the hope that had bloomed in that moment. Now, they felt different. A lump formed in your throat as you stared at them—the delicate gold butterfly in one ear and the striking blue butterfly in the other. They had been a symbol of the start of something beautiful, of a relationship you had longed for. But now, they felt like a cruel reminder of what you had barely even gotten the chance to hold onto. You didn’t even know how long he was even your boyfriend for, that’s how short it all felt and yet the hurt made it all feel incredibly long.

The tears came back quickly, racing down your cheeks before you could stop them. You sniffled, clutching the edge of the sink to steady yourself as your chest heaved with quiet sobs. It wasn’t just the loss of Trent that weighed on you. It was the idea that you had finally allowed yourself to believe in something good, something real, only for it to be ripped away before it had the chance to truly take root. Your fingers hesitated as they reached up, brushing against the earrings. For a moment, you considered taking them out, desperate to erase the pain, the memories, the pieces of him that lingered. But as your trembling hand hovered there, you froze. You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t let go of him—not entirely. Even if your relationship was over, your love for him wasn’t. It clung to you, stubborn and unyielding, refusing to fade no matter how much it hurt. Maybe these butterflies, pinned delicately to your earlobes, could still be a source of hope. Maybe they could remind you of what had been, but also of what could still be. You let out a shaky breath, wiping at your tears with the sleeve of your sweatshirt. The weight in your chest didn’t disappear, but as you looked at your reflection again, you realized something. These earrings weren’t just about Trent. They were about you, too. About the courage it had taken to open your heart and the strength you’d need to keep it from breaking completely. The Trent that gave you these was gone. The Trent that looked after you for years disappeared but the girl you thought he loved was still there staring back at you, you couldn’t change that. You couldn’t escape her. Maybe, the butterflies—fragile as they were—could carry you through.

When you stepped back into the room, Jack was standing by the window, his hands in his pockets, staring out at the street below. He turned toward you as he heard the bathroom door open, his eyes scanning you carefully. You tugged at the hem of your hoodie self-consciously, feeling exposed even though you were fully covered. Jack’s lips pressed into a thin line, and he gave a small nod of approval, his shoulders relaxing slightly.

“Thanks,” he said softly, moving back to sit on the bed. He patted the spot beside him, and after a moment’s hesitation, you shuffled over and sat down next to him. Your body felt heavy, like it might sink into the mattress and never resurface. For a while, neither of you said anything. The silence wasn’t awkward—it was just heavy, filled with all the things you couldn’t say yet. Jack placed a hand on your knee, his touch warm and steady, grounding you in a way you hadn’t felt in days. “I’m sorry I didn’t come in sooner,” he said finally, his voice thick with emotion. “I knew you were hurting… I just, I didn’t know this was how bad it was in here..” Jack cooed softly as he inspected the room. You’d been holed up for ages. “I didn’t know what to say… I didn’t want to hurt you anymore.” You swallowed hard, blinking back tears as you stared at your hands in your lap. 

“It’s not your fault,” you whispered, but even as you said it, the tears started to fall. Jack didn’t try to stop them. He didn’t tell you it was going to be okay or that you needed to pull yourself together. He just wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a hug as you let yourself completely crumble. You sobbed into his chest, your whole body shaking as the dam broke.

“I’m here,” he murmured, his voice steady and sure. “I’ve got you, Y/N. I’m here.” He whispered as you fell apart.

After a long while and buckets of more tears. Jack convinced you to get into the car with the enticement of starbucks. The car ride was quiet, the kind of silence that wasn’t uncomfortable but still carried the weight of everything unspoken. Jack had barely said a word, his hands gripping the wheel tightly as he navigated the streets. You didn’t ask where you were going—because it was clearly not in the direction of the closest Starbucks but part of you was too tired to care, and another yet part trusted him to know what you needed better than you did right now.

When the car pulled to a stop, you felt a pang of recognition before you even looked up. Heaton Park. Your chest tightened, and you let out a shaky sigh, your fingers fidgeting in your lap.  The moment you stepped out of the car, the cool air bit at your skin, but it couldn’t cut through the numbness you felt inside. You were sluggishly, the bitter wind brushing against your face and making you shiver. The familiar sight of the park stretched out before you, the stone paths winding through the greenery like veins in a leaf. The park stretched out before you, serene and empty, but it felt like the ground beneath you was unsteady.  For a brief moment, you felt a flicker of something—a memory, a connection—but it was fleeting. Jack walked a few steps ahead of you, his strides purposeful yet hesitant, silent, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets. You followed, your feet dragging slightly on the gravel path.

“Are we going to go to—” you began, your voice soft and tentative. Jack didn’t let you finish. He turned and just nodded, his eyes returning to be fixed ahead. He knew what you were going to ask. Of course he did. The greenhouse.

It was a sanctuary, a place where your mum had poured so much of her love and energy. After she passed, it became something more—a place where you could feel her presence, as though she lived on in the delicate flutter of the butterflies that filled the glass room. It was a space that brought both comfort and sorrow, a bittersweet reminder of what you had lost and what you still held onto. As you walked toward it, the weight in your chest grew heavier. You weren’t sure if you were ready to step inside, to face the memories that waited for you there, you hadn’t been in a long time. But before you could take another step, Jack stopped.

“Why are you stopping?” you asked, turning to look at him with confusion. As the greenhouse came into view, its glass panes glinting faintly in the muted sunlight, your heart sank. The lush greenery inside was just visible through the tinted windows, the flickering movements of butterflies a distant echo of life you didn’t feel. You frowned confused as Jack stopped in his tracks. He turned to you, his lips pressed into a thin line, but his eyes didn’t meet yours. He nodded back toward the greenhouse for you to really look. Your brows furrowed as you followed his gaze. There, through the glass, was Trent. He was seated on a bench, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped tightly together like he was holding on for dear life. His head was bowed, his shoulders slumped, his entire body radiating a kind of exhaustion you recognized all too well.

“Jack…” you whispered, your voice barely audible. You didn’t want to be here. You didn’t want to see him. You swallowed, blinking back tears. You turned back towards the car. 

“Just talk to him,” Jack said softly, but firmly, pleadingly. He didn’t push you forward, didn’t try to guide you. He just waited. Your feet felt like they were weighed down. Finally, you took a deep breath. At the very least maybe you could sever ties entirely with Trent. You could let Trent break your heart to your face. Let him hurt you, slice you completely open and there in the green house so full of life, you could let this all die. 

“Why are you doing this?” you asked finally, your voice shaking as your emotions threatened to overwhelm you. And with those words, the dam broke once more. Jack didn’t answer. He just gave a small nod, his gaze shifting toward the greenhouse again. Your heart clenched, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe. He looked different—not in a physical way, but in the way he carried himself. His shoulders were hunched, his hands clasped tightly together as he stared at the ground. He looked like a man who had been hollowed out, as though the weight of the world had finally caught up to him. You turned back to Jack, your eyes wide and filled with questions. “Jack…Why—” You asked again because you wanted to know. 

“I didn’t bring you here… for him,” Jack said quickly, his voice low and steady. “I brought you here for you. But… he asked to see you. Said he’d wait as long as it took. He’s been here for hours, Y/N. He’s not leaving until you talk to him.” Jack’s voice was calm. You could sense that he was comfortable with letting you go into an enclosed room with Trent. It didn’t make sense. He hurt you. Why was Jack okay with this. You felt your throat tighten, your emotions warring inside you. Part of you wanted to turn and walk away, to leave him sitting there in the greenhouse with his guilt and his regrets. But another part of you, a part you hated to admit existed, wanted to go inside. To hear what he had to say. Jack moved gently and slowly before placing a hand on your shoulder, grounding you. “You don’t have to do this,” he said gently. “But if you want to… Just do what you want.” Jack exhaled. “Y/N, for once, do what you want. Please.” Jack pleaded, desperate for you to be brave for yourself… not for him, not for Trent, but to either go in or get out on your own terms. 

And so then in that moment you decided, you wanted to feel it all, all the heartache, let it pull you under, hot box you in what once was. You wanted to be suffocated by the memories of your mum and memories of the Trent you’d once trusted that filled the greenhouse and be able to close the door behind you. You nodded slowly, your feet carrying you forward before your mind could catch up. The closer you got to the greenhouse, the louder your heartbeat became, pounding in your ears like a drum. Every step toward the greenhouse taking more effort than the last. The closer you got, the more details came into focus. The way Trent’s jaw clenched as he stared at the ground. The way his leg bounced nervously. The way his hands trembled, just barely, as they hung between his knees. When you reached the door, your hand hovered over the handle for a moment, your breath catching in your throat. You wanted to turn back, to run away, to avoid the pain you knew was waiting for you inside, maybe you weren’t strong enough for what you decided.  But something kept you rooted there—a flicker of hope, or maybe just a need for answers. You pushed the door open, the faint creak of the hinges cutting through the stillness. The soft hum of the greenhouse filling your ears as you stepped inside. The warm, humid air hit you immediately, carrying the faint smell of flowers and earth. It was warm and fragrant, the scent of memories mingling with the faint flutter of wings. Yet simultaneously, it was almost too quiet inside, the sound of your footsteps muffled by the soft mossy floor. 

Trent didn’t look up at first, but the moment the door clicked shut behind you, his head snapped up. His eyes met yours, and the raw emotion in them hit you like a wave, his eyes meeting yours. The pain in his expression mirrored your own, and for a moment, neither of you moved.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice cracking, as he stood abruptly, his voice raw with emotion. He looked like he didn’t know whether to move closer or stay where he was, his hands twitching at his sides. You didn’t say anything at first. You just stared at him, taking in the sight of the man you loved—someone who now felt like a stranger. The air between you was thick with unspoken words, with pain and regret and longing Trent stood as you approached, his movements slow and tentative, like he was afraid of scaring you away. You stayed quiet, your arms wrapping around yourself as you stopped a few feet away from him. The silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating, until finally, Trent spoke again. “I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice a meek whimper, a tone you had never known. “For everything. For hurting you. For not fighting harder to protect us. I—I don’t even know where to start, but I need you to know… I never wanted this. I never wanted to lose you.” His words hung in the air, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him. The anger, the hurt, the betrayal—they were all still there, but so was something else. Something softer, something that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, there was a way forward. But first, you needed answers. And you needed to know if you could trust him again.

“But you did hurt me. You didn’t fight for me. All you’ve done….” You whimpered barely able to get the words out. Tears were already coursing down your cheeks just merely at the sight of him. “All you’ve done is break me down in ways I didn’t even know were possible.” You cried, unable to look him in the eyes. You felt naked crying in front of him. Like your sweatset had vanished entirely.  

“I know.” Ternt muttered, unable to stay quiet as guilt crashed over him. You heard Jack’s car wheels pull across the gravel leaving you with Trent. You were alone, fragile, boxed in with the boy who broke your heart in a literal glass house that felt it could shatter at any moment.

“Why did you hurt me…” You sobbed. Trent wasn’t sure he ever knew pain like this existed either watching you stand there doused in the tears he caused.  “Why did you lie to me? Why wasn’t I good enough? You told me I was… you’re the only person who's ever even taken a second look at me, taken an interest in me, really saw me and… and… it was a lie. Why did you do that? What did you gain from that? Was it for the sex? You didn’t get enough of that elsewhere? You think I didn’t ache every time I saw you with a new girl for years and finally… god! fucking finally you really looked at me. I thought you loved me! You made me you’re fucking girlfriend just to screw Jess? Why would you hurt me…” Your words were fast, rushed, emotional, with gasps and hiccups interspersed between words.  

“I didn’t touch her.” Trent looked at you earnestly. Your brow furrowed trying to deduce if he was being honest or if he had the gull to lie to your face right now. “Y/N, I swear on my life, I have not looked at another girl, let alone touched one since you kissed me. I did not kiss Jess. I did not have sex with her. The day you kissed me my fucking life got flipped upside down. You have been the only thought in my head for months and you’ve been the only girl I’ve wanted for my years.” Trent confessed, his voice was weak but it was raw and unfiltered. It was unapologetically honest and you couldn’t ignore it. “Y/N… baby, please. I’ve waited. God, I’ve fucking waited my turn… I watched you with all those fucking assholes wishing you’d let me have a chance, let me in… please don’t shut me out now.” He whimpered desperately.

“Then why… I don’t understand how this got so fucked up.” You questioned him quietly. “Why did you say those things? Why did you leave?” You asked hesitantly, not sure if you could stomach the answer. 

“Josh… He has a video.” He confessed. The moment the words left his mouth, the air seemed to shift, heavy with a revelation that landed like a weight in your chest. Your mind reeled as Trent’s confession unfolded, the pieces clicking into place in a way that made your stomach churn.

“What?” you whispered, your voice trembling. He took a step forward. He’s hands gently wrapped around your biceps.

“Josh…” Trent said again, his grip on your arms tightening ever so slightly, like he was afraid you might disappear. “He has that video. I don’t know how he got it, but he threatened me. Said if I didn’t leave you, if I didn’t do what he asked, he’d release it. He wanted to hurt you. He used me to hurt you. He has a video of us and he was using it to exploit you and me, us.  Baby, I would never do this to you unprompted. He pushed my hand, I didn’t fuck Jess, that fucking prick made me lie to you. To everyone. I just couldn't handle him thinking he had control over you anymore. It broke my heart hurting you, letting you hate me but I’d do it a million times over before I let him come near you again. I will always protect you, even if it came at the cost of losing you. I lost the love of my life that night but….” Trent tried to keep talking but the look on your face made him pause.  Your knees buckled, and Trent was quick to steady you, his hands sliding down to your elbows. But you pulled back, stepping out of his reach as you tried to process what he was saying.

“He’s been blackmailing you?” you asked, your voice breaking. Trent nodded, his eyes red-rimmed and pleading.

 “I didn’t know what to do. I thought—I had to play his fucking game, it was the only way I could protect you. I could keep him from doing something worse. I didn’t want to lose you, baby, but I couldn’t let him hurt you again. I couldn’t.” He whimpered as you stumbled backward, your hands clutching your temples as the weight of it all came crashing down. The betrayal, the heartbreak, the manipulation—it was too much.

“You should have told me,” you said, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “You should have trusted me. Trusted us.” Trent stepped forward again, desperate to close the gap between you.

“You don’t understand, he was going to send it at his fucking table that night. He had a video of you on your knees, Y/N ready to send out to anyone and everyone. I didn’t want you to carry that weight. You’ve been through enough. I don’t want him near you. My only option was to handle it on my own. I was protecting you the only way I could, that night.” Tears streamed down your face as you shook your head. 

“But you weren’t. Trent, you weren’t protecting me. You were letting him win. Letting him keep control.” You whimpered, explaining your very real thoughts. He dropped his head, his hands falling to his sides in defeat. 

“No. He doesn’t have control,” he said softly, yet unsure. “I know I messed up. But please, baby, I’m trying to make it right now. I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this. To fix us. He won’t take you away from me.” You looked at him, your heart aching in a way that made it hard to breathe. You wanted to believe him, to let yourself fall into his arms and trust that he could make it right. But the pain, the betrayal, the fear—it wasn’t something you could push aside so easily. You didn’t respond, your body too numb and your mind too overwhelmed to form words.  It felt like the ground had been ripped out from under you. You couldn’t comprehend it—Josh, holding something so intimate, so vulnerable, like a weapon against you. Your tears continued fast, hot and unrelenting, blurring the lush greenery around you into an indistinguishable haze. Trent stepped closer into you, his voice trembling.  “I know it hurt, baby, but I couldn’t risk it. Not that night. Not with him. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t want to lie to you, to everyone. You have to believe me.” His words cracked, and you saw his own tears spill down his cheeks. You’d never seen him cry like this before, and it broke something inside of you.

“So Josh still has a video of us?” you managed to whisper, your voice barely audible as you wrapped your arms around yourself protectively. The nausea hit you like a tidal wave, and you staggered slightly again.

“I don’t know how he got it,” Trent said, his voice hoarse. “But he was trying to use it to get you away from me, to keep hurting you but I won’t let it happen.” The betrayal and disgust churned in your stomach, but amidst it all, there was one truth you couldn’t deny, one thing that felt louder than the rest. 

“I don’t want to be away from you,” you whimpered, your voice raw with emotion. That small admission shattered whatever invisible wall had been keeping you apart. You took a single step forward, and it felt monumental, like crossing a chasm. Trent didn’t hesitate. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest as if he could shield you from everything, even the weight of the world. His embrace was warm and steady, but it also unraveled you completely. You broke down, your sobs shaking your whole body as you clung to him. It was a release you didn’t even realize you needed, all the pain, fear, and uncertainty spilling out in waves.

“I’m not going to be away from you,” Trent whispered into your hair, his voice steady despite the emotion lacing it. “I’m here. Okay? I’m not leaving.” He kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering there as if trying to reassure you of his promise. The greenhouse felt both fragile and comforting, the tension in the air gradually giving way to something softer, something hopeful. For the first time in days, you felt like you could breathe. The lush oxygen in the greenhouse was no longer suffocating, it was liberating. It was quiet for a long time, only the sound of tears, ragged breaths, and broken hearts. 

“Are you still my boyfriend?” you whimpered against the soft cotton of Trent’s shirt, your voice barely audible. The words felt heavy in your throat, weighted with everything you’d been through, everything that had been said and done. Despite it all you were desperate to repair the gaping hole he’d left behind in your chest. You didn’t even know if you wanted the answer—because what if it wasn’t the one you needed? Trent froze for a moment, his breath catching in his chest. Then, with a tenderness that almost broke you, he pulled back, his large hands moving to cradle your face. His thumbs gently wiped away the tears spilling down your cheeks, his dark eyes swimming with emotion. He leaned in, his forehead resting lightly against yours, his breath warm and steady on your skin.

“I’ve waited my entire life to be your boyfriend,” he said, his voice trembling. “I’m not backing out now. Not for no one. I’ve got you.” The sincerity in his words hit you like a wave, and before you could stop yourself, you leaned forward, capturing his lips in a kiss. It wasn’t rushed or desperate; it was slow, deliberate, and filled with everything you couldn’t find the words to say. It felt like you were pressing your broken pieces into him, hoping he could hold them together. When you pulled away, your chest heaving with silent sobs, you noticed a flicker of movement out of the corner of your eye. A delicate blue butterfly flitted through the still air, its wings shimmering in the golden light streaming through the glass walls of the greenhouse. It circled once, twice, and then landed gently on Trent’s shoulder, its tiny legs gripping the fabric of his hoodie. The sight made you gasp, your tears momentarily forgotten. “That okay, pretty girl?” Trent whispered, his voice soft and almost hesitant. He didn’t move, afraid of disturbing the fragile moment unfolding between you. You nodded, your throat too tight to speak. “Supposed to be with you,” Trent continued, his voice barely above a murmur. “Take care of you. Love you. I know that.” He paused when he noticed your eyes weren’t locked on his anymore. His gaze shifted to the butterfly, his lips curving into a small, reverent smile. “And she knew that.” He cooed softly. Your heart clenched as you realized the significance of the creature perched so serenely on him. It wasn’t just a butterfly—it was a sign, a reminder of your mum, of her love, her presence, and her belief in you. Your fingers trembled as you reached out, brushing them lightly against Trent’s arm. 

“I miss her so much.” You sniffled. “I can tell she’s here though,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “I can feel her.” Trent nodded, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. 

“I know, baby.” He whispered. You blinked, tears blurring your vision, and suddenly remembered the earrings he’d given you—the ones you’d worn so often without fully understanding their significance. They were just like the butterfly: delicate, blue, shimmering. A quiet tribute to your mum, a connection between the past and the future.

“She always knew I loved you,” you murmured, your voice gaining strength. “Even now I feel like she pushes me to remember that it’s always been you… Even when it shouldn’t work.” You whimpered. Trent shifted slightly, tilting his head to get a better look at the butterfly as it fluttered its wings. 

“It should work. I will make it work. She knew that I would take care of you, that I’m supposed to take care of you,” he said, his voice steady now. “And I will, Y/N. I promise because I love you.” The emotion in his voice shattered the last of your defenses. You stepped into him fully, burying your face in his chest as your tears soaked into his shirt. His arms wrapped around you tightly, holding you like he never wanted to let go.

“I love you,” you sniffled, the words muffled but clear. Trent pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering. 

“I love you more than you will ever know, more than I could ever even begin to tell you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. The butterfly finally took flight, fluttering upward toward the glass ceiling. You both watched it go, its wings catching the light as it disappeared into the rafters. For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. When you turned back to Trent, he was already looking at you, his expression filled with so much love and determination that it made your knees weak. “C’mere. My perfect pretty girl,” he cooed, taking your hand and lacing your fingers together. “Love you so so much.” He whispered almost to himself as his other hand pulled your head into his chest. He kissed your hair again and again. The way you smelt, the way you felt, it all felt like a dream. It didn’t make sense that this was real but as you marginally separated he opened the door to exit the green house reality came crashing back down. The light catching your cheekbone, a tear streak stain on your cheek, a painful reminder of how very real you were. How very real the hurt he had caused was. You were real and you were his and he’d do anything to keep you safe. 

“T…?” you questioned softly, your voice barely audible as your fingers curled around his hand. The two of you walked slowly along the winding paths of the park, the faint rustling of leaves and the distant laughter of children filling the quiet space between you.

“Yeah, pretty girl?” he hummed, glancing down at you, his dark eyes full of warmth despite the tension lingering between you. You hesitated, your steps faltering for a moment. 

“I’m… I’m scared of Josh. That video getting out would be so bad for you,” you mumbled, your gaze fixed on the path in front of you. The words felt heavy, and saying them out loud made the fear all the more real. Trent stopped walking, turning to face you. He placed his hands gently on your arms, his thumbs stroking soothingly over the fabric of your sweatshirt. 

“Y/N, baby,” he began, his voice low and steady, “I would risk my life, my career—everything—to protect you. And I’m so sorry that trying to do that ended up hurting you. I swear with my whole heart, that piece of shit will never hurt you again. He can’t even get close to my baby, alright? I gotcha.” The conviction in his voice and the fierce protectiveness in his eyes made your heart clench. You nodded, leaning into him as his arm wrapped around you, pulling you tightly into his side. The spring breeze carried the scent of his cologne, wrapping you in a cocoon of safety and comfort.

“Okay,” you murmured, though the unease still lingered in your chest. After a moment of silence, you tilted your head up to look at him. “Are we going to have to hide again?” you asked hesitantly, the thought of going back to a secret relationship filling you with dread. Trent’s grip on you tightened slightly, his arm anchoring you to him. You had so many questions you almost felt bad asking them but Trent felt worse having to answer them, it should’ve never come to this.

“No, pretty girl,” he said firmly. “I’ll protect you, alright? No more hiding. We’re doing this right. You and me.” His words brought a flicker of warmth to your chest, melting away some of the fear. 

“Okay,” you whispered again, your lips curling into a small smile. “So… I’m your girlfriend again?” you asked playfully, a hint of mischief creeping into your tone. Trent chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest. 

“You’ve always been my girl,” he murmured, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to your temple. Your cheeks warmed, and you let out a quiet giggle. 

“Good,” you said, squeezing his waist. “Because I want you to be my boyfriend.”

“Glad we’re on the same page,” he teased, kissing the top of your head. You walked in comfortable silence for a while, the park’s serene atmosphere working its magic on your frayed nerves. The weight of the past few days still hung over you, but in his presence, it felt a little lighter, a little easier to bear. “Thank you for listening…understanding,” Trent spoke after a while, his tone soft but serious. “I know that night was hard—harder than I can even imagine on you. For me too. I just… I was trying to protect my pretty girl.” You looked up at him, your heart swelling at the sincerity etched into his face. 

“I’ve always waited. I understand,” you said, your voice thick with emotion. “I do.” Unable to resist the pull of his warmth, you wrapped your arms around his waist, holding onto him as if he were the only thing tethering you to the ground. He didn’t seem to mind—if anything, he held you just as tightly, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back as the two of you slowly made your way out of the park. For the first time in days, you felt a small spark of hope. Maybe the two of you could get through this. But maybe, just maybe, as you felt relationship coming up, you'd also be reminded of that little video of you going down still existing on Josh's phone.

•

Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter or of what's to come!

Next part - Chapter 22 xx

[sheeple]

Puck you!

Genre(s): Modern!au / Ice hockey!au Fandom(s): Harry Potter Pairing(s): Ice hockey player!Mattheo Riddle x Reader Summary: You decide to go to an ice hockey game on your own and end up with a broken nose, a round trip to the ER, and a boyfriend. Warning(s): Broken nose (obvs) / kinda rushed A/n: Is it kinda inspired by a Saturday evening of mine? Who knows? [Masterlist]

It was stupid. Who goes to their very first ice hockey game all alone? Well... apparently you. You've tried to ask your friends and even your parents. But your friends were all busy and your father said, "I'm not going to spend my Saturday evening anywhere else except at home, on the couch." Spoiler alert: he and your mother went to a dinner with their friends that evening. Hypocrite.

So here you are, all alone and being very cold. You're having a great time nonetheless — even preferring ice hockey above soccer (don't tell your manager) — but even though you went with a sweater and one of your thicker winter coats, you are so damn cold! And seeing people pass by with steaming coffee you decide to get a hot beverage for yourself once the second break starts.

As soon as the buzzer sounds, you're out of your seat and off to the coffee corner. Smiling at the lady, you order a hot cocoa with whipped cream on top.

"How are you liking the game so far, dearie?", she asks with a kind smile.

Swallowing a big gulp of whipped cream, you wipe your mouth. "It's great! It's my very first one and way more brutal than I thought but it's so awesome. The cold's something I have to get used to", you laugh.

"Well then", she reaches behind the counter and pulls out a bright green beanie, "take this, love. Think of it as a welcome-to-the-sport present." She winks and you thank her profusely.

Seeing as the fifteen minutes are almost over, you quickly hurry back to your seat. But once you approach you see someone else sitting in it. No big deal, enough space. Moving further down, you spot an empty seat between two families and decide it's good enough for you.

Thanking the people who get up from their seats to let you pass, you quickly take place and put on the beanie. To your surprise the combo of beanie and hot chocolate does wonders.

The players skate back on the rink and the game starts again. Your hometown team the Green Snakes stand with 7 to 2 points before the Godrick's Lions and the crowd is electric. You know there's some age-old rivalry between the two teams — two cities really — that you never really understood. But hey, people need something to be competitive about.

For the so many-ith time, the game stops and number 86 is sent to the penalty box. Again. He's been playing rough all game, really firing his pucks at the opposite goal and knocking other players to the side. You pull up his profile on your phone to see who's behind the mask.

Number 86. Riddle, Mattheo. Hmm... he's rather handsome with his dark curly hair and, if you dare say, adorable smile. According to the Green Snakes' website, he's known for playing rough and getting up just as hard as he's knocking people down.

While you're distracted by your phone, you don't see how said player misfires a puck at the goal. It bounces off the sides before launching over the rink walls and into the stands. Straight at you.

With full speed, the black mini-missile lands right in your face. It bounces off your nose to be more precise. You feel it crack under the speed and pass out almost exactly directly.

Meanwhile, on the ice, Mattheo winces as the puck he shot hits the very cute girl straight in her face. He's been eyeing you the whole game that's also why he's getting so much time in the penalty box — to look at you but he won't admit that.

He wants to immediately rush off the ice and run over to the stands where paramedics are loading you on a stretcher. But the hand of his captain stops him and he shakes his head. "We can visit her after the game. It's only ten minutes left and then you can make sure she's fine."

Mattheo knows his captain is right but he can't focus on the game anymore. His coach switches him out for Malfoy and he sends the remainder of the time on the bench. As soon as the buzzer sounds the game is over, and he's off to the dressing room to have a quick shower before sprinting towards the medical bay.

When you came by, you were lying in a slightly warmer room than you remember. Wait... what do you remember? Hot chocolate, the beanie, 86, the puck. THE PUCK!

You shoot up and immediately regret it. The room spins around you and your head throbs. Your nose hurts like a bitch and you have an unrelenting runny nose. A nurse rushes over to you with gauze in her hands and presses it to your nose.

"Oh dear. Try to breathe slowly and through your mouth. I'm afraid your nose is broken. I've already called the doctor to set it straight for you".

"It's broken?", you say softly, not believing what you're hearing. Reaching up with a hand, you touch the tender flesh and hiss as pain flashes through your body. And now your head throbs, amazing...

As the nurse cleans up the bloody rags he turns towards you with a soft smile. "I'll tell your boyfriend that you're awake so he can come in."

"Boyfriend?", you echo perplexed.

That makes the nurse frown deeply and scribble something on the chard she's holding before exiting the room.

Since when do you have a boyfriend? You've surely hit your head pretty hard. How else could you forget a whole-ass boyfriend?

The door opens and a head with dark curls peeks around, scanning the room until his eyes fall upon you. As he closes the door behind him you recognise the guy. The one and only number 86 standing before you with a guilty look on his face. That puck for sure did a number on you.

"How are you feeling?"

"Considering I've gotten a puck against my noggin? It hurts and my nose is broken. And apparently, I've got a boyfriend in the time I was KO."

He sucks in a sharp breath, gripping the edge of the hospital bed pretty harshly. "Yeah... Sorry about that. They wouldn't let me stay if I wasn't family or involved with you." You can see him cringe with the way he phrased that. "I'm really sorry about the whole puck incident. Coach always says I play too roughly and this just proves it..."

Before you can answer, there's a knock on the door and in walks a doctor followed by the same nurse. "Good evening Miss, how are you feeling?", asks the doctor as she shines a light into your eyes.

You throw number 86 a glance. "Despite that my nose is crooked and my head hurts, pretty okay."

The doctor hums. "So no dizziness, vagueness, or forgetfulness?"

You shake your head, slightly regretting the motion.

"Good. Good. I'll grab a colleague from ENT to put your nose back how it belongs and then you are free to go home. Sounds good?"

You nod and soon you're left alone with number 86 again. Breaking the silence, you hold out your hand and introduce your name. Even though he broke your nose, you still have manners.

He's quick to take your hand to shake it. "Matt. Is there any way to make it up to you?"

"You could let me break your nose in return?", you joke, but quickly backpaddle as Matt legitly seems to consider it. "No, you're crazy! It was a joke!"

Matt chuckles awkwardly and scratches the back of his head. "Can I take you out to drink once your nose is fine again?"

A small smile grows on your face and you nod. "Yeah... I would like that."

Around an hour later you let yourself fall on your bed; your nose bandaged and yourself still a little woozy because of the anaesthesia they gave you. You hold your phone dangerously above you as you stare at the text that has come in.

Hey! Looking forward towards our date next week! I promise you we'll stay off the ice (for now) This is Matt btw :) Goodnight

[peachylynnie]

ace

word count: 1.7k synopsis: in which sylus defies all logic and odds, just for you. contains: part 2 of blackjack, sylus x fem!reader (non mc, first time meeting), slightly obsessive sylus, alcohol consumption, cursing, mentions of weapons and violence, and gambling (know the rules of blackjack). a/n: in blackjack, you want to get as close as you can to 21 without going over. to bust means to go over 21. to stay means to stay with the cards you have. you can tap for more cards or wave to stay. a natural (best outcome) means you immediately get 21 with your initial cards. but, you don't have to get to 21 to win. so long as the dealer has a worse hand than you, you win. essentially, it's a game against the dealer, not the people you play with. reblogs & comments are appreciated. previous chapter | lads masterlist | next chapter

sylus has never lost in blackjack before.

he's mastered every gambling card game for the sake of business deals and corrupt clients. and yet, here you are, spitting at his mastery as you flip another twenty, forcing him to either stay at his nineteen or risk a bust. and sylus never stays or busts in blackjack.

while your hands question almost every statistic and probability out there, your expression is what truly does it for him. even though you've only been winning, you haven't shown a trace of happiness or any other emotion normally present at a poker table. there's nothing when your opponents raise their bets, nothing when you win their bets, and infuriatingly nothing when your silver-haired opponent leans on the table and gazes at you hungrily after you take his chips for the umpteenth time tonight.

chuckling to himself, sylus can't help but think, what's going on in that pretty little head of yours? what will it take for you to look at him with half the interest he's looking at you with right now?

"because the lounge closes in less than thirty minutes," you gesture to the clock, snapping the silver-haired man out of his thoughts. "this will be the final round."

you hand a deck of cards to sylus, signaling him to shuffle. he takes it from you, trying not to shudder when his finger grazes yours.

sherman and his lackey groan upon checking how many chips they have left. "and here i thought blackjack was the easiest game against the house," the former complains as he lights a cigar.

"perhaps," the latter starts carefully, "we can wager something different this round." he shares a knowing look with his boss before turning to sylus. "what do you think, mr. sylus?"

sylus sighs as he finishes shuffling the deck. that idiot messed up his shuffle. great, now he looks like an idiot to you. "what would you like to wager?" he huffs as he places the deck in front of you.

"the deal, sylus," sherman snaps. "if i win, we have a deal."

sylus laughs mirthlessly, shaking his head. seems like the imbecile finally decided to drop his friendly act. "and what will your little employee wager?" he asks with faux curiosity.

"that depends on the lady in front of us, mr. sylus," the man in question answers before licking his lips at you. "say, miss dealer. if i win, how about you accompany mr. sherman and me back to a hotel nearby? we promise you'll be thoroughly compensated."

the head of onychinus stands up swiftly, his hands curling into fists. he should have seen this coming. the knowing look sherman and his lackey shared earlier wasn't just a shot at trapping him into a deal; it was an attempt at you and who knows what nauseating desires. before he can pummel the two men into the ground, you speak.

"i'm afraid that won't be possible, gentlemen," you pick up a chip and flip it between your knuckles. "the main objective of blackjack is to beat the dealer, not to win exclusively." your eyes never leave the chip. "for example, what will happen to your wagers if only i win?" you place the chip down. "in other words, multiple wagers are useless in blackjack due to its main objective."

sylus smirks as he sits down, pride blooming in his chest. not only were you good at blackjack, but you were also good at navigating your way in and out of technicalities. oh, he's definitely buying you a drink after this. you earned it. besides, he's curious to know what a talented little lamb like you is doing in the n109 zone. maybe a drink or two will soften you up and lay your mind bare.

"what would you suggest, miss dealer?" sherman questions angrily, his eye twitching. "you're impossible to beat, and unfortunately," he chucks a gun onto the table, "i'm not walking away without a deal."

sylus tenses. you don't flinch.

"change the main objective," you eloquently respond as you reach for the deck of cards sylus shuffled. "the three of you will play against each other, and whoever gains a blackjack or the hand closest to it will have their wager fulfilled." you fingers never slip as you pass out the cards. "while a tie may be possible, the likelihood will be drastically reduced, as you will no longer be playing to beat me." your braid your fingers and rest them against your stomach, your eyes unwavering. "you will be playing to win."

while sherman and his lackey mull over your proposal, sylus takes a sip from his glass, his eyes glued to you. what could you possibly gain from this? no bets you can profit from have been placed. not to mention your choice to stay out of this round just cost you your chance to prevent sherman and his lackey from fulfilling their profane desires. his brows furrow, no longer enjoying the feeling nor taste of fizz on his tongue. this entire night you've only led him in circles, forcing him to deal with your unpredictable actions and signature indifference. does he hate this? fuck no. your antics give him a sense of desire, a drive—something he's been severely lacking for a while.

but, sylus' patience is wearing thin. he swears if he can't get you to look at him with anything but that damned emptiness, he's going to force his way into your eyes until they are filled to the brim with nothing but him, him, him.

"mr. sylus?" sherman's lackey snaps him out of his thoughts. "your wager?"

"ah," sylus places his glass down, ignoring the cracks forming on it from how tightly he was gripping it. "if i win-"

he pauses, noticing something.

"miss dealer, why did you give yourself cards? i thought you weren't playing," he inquires with a tilt of his head.

"i gave myself cards to stay true to the dealing rules of blackjack," you answer calmly, extending your arm towards sherman's cards to begin the game. "don't worry, mr. sylus. i won't be playing this round, only dealing. my cards are facedown, after all."

sylus inhales sharply. you said his name. you said his name for the first time. and fuck, did it feel so good to hear it on your tongue.

"stay or hit, mr. sherman?" you option the man. he has an ace of spades and a seven of hearts, giving him eighteen. the man takes another puff of smoke before tapping the table. "a hit," you confirm before flipping a four of clubs. the man curses loudly, sputtering on his cigar. "too high," you declare as you immediately move on to his lackey.

"stay or hit?" you repeat. the lackey has an ace of hearts and an eight of clubs, giving him nineteen. the man sighs before waving a hand. "stay," you confirm before turning to sylus.

you still upon seeing his cards. a ten of diamonds and a nine of spades, bringing him to tie with sherman's lackey. so much for the likelihood of a tie being dramatically reduced. you exhale before asking, "stay or hit?"

"hm," sylus hums. he could technically stay and walk away with a tie. sherman won't be selling him fake protocores since he lost, and his lackey won't get his way with you since he tied. besides, hitting would be risky since the chances of getting a two are barely one percent, and the chances of getting an ace are either four or two percent, depending on what you have.

sylus tilts his head, realizing something.

"miss dealer, may i look at your cards?"

"i don't see why not," you say after a few seconds, ignoring sherman and his lackey's complaints.

"thank you, miss dealer," he purrs, reaching for your cards. "you won't regret it."

you don't say anything. you just cross your arms and lean against the table, resuming your unconcerned demeanor.

sylus grins after flipping your cards. an ace of diamonds and a ten of diamonds. you had a fucking blackjack. for the nth time of the night, you drew another natural. there's no way he's letting you go after this, not after you reduced his chances of getting an ace from four to two percent.

at this point, you've already realized why sylus wanted to see your cards. he was trying to gauge his chances of getting an ace, but since you had the third one from the deck, his chances were now fatally low. not to mention, his chances of getting a two were also low, meaning staying was the best option. you reach for his cards, hoping to clean up and get the fuck out of the n109 zone because you know from the depraved looks he's been giving you, prolonging your stay would be dangerous.

but what you don't know is the type of person sylus is. he's the type of person to spit in the face of fate, probabilities, and every distinct concept known to dictate humanity. people don't call him a "relentless conqueror" for nothing. unfortunately for you, this man has found something he relentlessly wants to conquer: your fucking attention. he makes that very clear when he taps the table.

and god, is he glad he decided to hit because you finally reacted to him.

your once-indifferent eyes were now faltering with uncertainty. your once-crossed arms were now hanging loosely at your sides. your once-relaxed voice was now quivering as you asked, "i'm sorry, a hit?"

sylus runs a finger upon his lips, trying to control his manic grin. oh, you looked utterly confused, and he was all for it. never has he seen such a beautiful and enticing sight: you, pushed to the absolute brink with your eyes bewitchingly transfixed on him, trying to figure out why the hell he would hit when his chances of winning are painstakingly low.

"yes, sweetie." your brows furrow when he calls you that. "a hit," he confirms with a teasing smile.

you stare at him (yes, keep looking at him like that; fill your eyes with him and him only) for a few more seconds before reaching for a card. people just really like to gamble, you reason. there's no way an ace can come out of this. however, your lips can't help but part when you flip over the card.

an ace of clubs.

he won.

[bellaxgiornata]

Don't Know What You're Talking About

Pairing: Frank Castle x fem!Reader Word Count: 1.5k [Tuna-Tober Masterlist]

Tuna-Tober Prompt: Flustered

Warnings/tags: 18+; suggestive comments, flustering Frank in a sundress

Summary: Stressed from a bad week, it's been awhile since you and Frank have had sex. You take the opportunity to intentionally rile him up because of it.

a/n: The last and final post leftover from Tuna-Tober months ago! Finally got around to editing it up and sharing after that unexpected hiatus. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

“What a gentleman,” you teased lightly.

Squeezing past Frank, you slipped into the passenger seat of his truck before smoothing out the skirt of your dress. It wasn’t lost on you the way his dark eyes followed the movement of your hands.

“Getting the door for me and taking me out for brunch today? A girl could get used to this,” you continued, grinning over at him still holding the door of the truck open. 

“Know you been wanting to go to that new place,” he replied gruffly, his eyes returning to your face. “And you had a rough week. Figured it’d cheer you up.”

“That's sweet of you, Frank. It even gave me an excuse to get dressed up,” you told him, your grin growing into a wide smile as you pulled on the seatbelt. “Thankfully it’s Saturday, which means I can just focus on you today. And that is exactly what I intend to do. You've got my undivided attention now that this miserable week is finally over.”

A faint grunt fell out of his mouth in response before he gave you a brief nod in acknowledgement. As you settled into your seat, smoothing your sundress down over your thighs once more, you could feel Frank’s eyes roving over your body. When he continued to hesitate by the door for a second longer, you glanced up from beneath your lashes, catching his gaze as your brows slowly rose.

“Something on your mind?” you asked him.

Frank cleared his throat before giving a quick shake of his head. “Naw, it’s nothin’,” he muttered.

Bottom lip catching between your teeth, you fought back a laugh as you watched him close the passenger door. Your eyes followed his steps as he made his way around the front of the truck towards the driver's side. Gnawing the soft bit of flesh in amusement, you knew damn well what was on his mind. 

Frank loved whenever you wore a dress–especially this particular sundress that hung low and clung to your chest before flaring out over your hips in a way that usually had him struggling to keep his hands to himself. You’d chosen it on purpose for today because you had every intention of breaking that damn eight day no-sex streak you’d both accidentally been stuck in because you had been so frustrated at work this past week.

But first, you desperately wanted to rile him up on this little outing. Fluster him a bit. You truthfully never could resist the sight of Frank cursing under his breath and grumbling, his dark brows knitted together as he called you out on your bullshit. And you damn well planned to get a bit of a rise out of him today. Unbeknownst to him, it was practically foreplay to you.

Frank opened the driver’s side door before climbing into the seat beside you. Starting the truck, the engine roared to life with a rumble just before music began playing quietly over the stereo. Next to you, you caught the way Frank glanced in your direction as he put the truck in reverse.

“You just sit back and relax today, honey,” he told you, looking over his shoulder as he began to back the truck out of the driveway. “Lemme fix your bad week.”

Fighting the urge to grin devilishly at his words, you seized the opportunity he’d just presented you. Leaning back in your seat, you kicked your feet up onto the dashboard of his truck. Your neutral nail polished toes were hard to ignore in your wedge sandals as they sat right there by the windshield. Your dress, which was already on the shorter side, inched a bit down your thighs at the movement.

Frank started down the street, passing a few houses before he pulled the truck to a stop at the corner. He gave you a sidelong glance before he let out a grunt. Turning towards him, you shot him a curious look at the noise, doing your best to play up your innocent act. Frank’s head gestured towards your feet on the dashboard before he spoke.

“What’re you’re doing, sweetheart?” he asked.

You gave a small, innocent shrug in response before focusing back out of the front windshield. Watching him from the corner of your eye, you answered him casually. “You said to sit back and relax. So I am.”

Frank’s jaw visibly clenched in response, his hands tightening their grip on the steering wheel. His attention returned to the road, but you caught the faint huff he’d emitted at your response. 

“Yeah? Is that right?” he asked. “That all you’re doin’, sweetheart? Relaxing?”

“Of course, what else would I be doing?” you asked, still feigning innocence. 

“Pushing my buttons?” he shot back.

Throwing a hand over your heart, you turned at the waist in your seat and let out a dramatic gasp. It took every ounce of your willpower to refrain from smirking when his eyes darted over towards you, his brows furrowing in frustration as his eyes narrowed at you.

“Frank!” you said, pretending to be offended. “Why ever would you say that?”

“Cut the damn act, sweetheart,” he grumbled, eyes returning to the road as he continued driving. “You don’t think I know what you’re doin’ over there?”

“What?” you asked. “I'm just getting comfortable.”

His eyes flew down to your bare legs, the sunlight shining along them through the window and making them practically glisten in the late morning light. Chewing the inside of your cheek, you fought down a laugh at the way his lips pressed together. 

“You got your goddamn legs up like that,” he said, one hand releasing the wheel as he gestured at your bare thighs, “and you expect me to think you're not doin’ it on purpose?”

“Maybe you should just focus on the road, Frank,” you suggested, struggling to keep the smile from your lips. “Instead of me.”

Frank scowled in response, both hands gripping the steering wheel so tight you heard the faux leather groan against his palms. The sound sent a bit of a thrill through you as you watched the muscle jump in his cheek.

“I am focused on the goddamned road,” he grumbled. “Damn miracle I'm still in the lane with your fuckin’ legs up like that, though.”

“Really, Frank?” you asked, doing your best to sound surprised. “Are my legs really doing that much for you?”

You caught the way he glanced over at you again, his eyes trailing over your bare thighs before making their way to your calves. He let out a quiet scoff before he shook his head, one hand leaving the wheel to run across his mouth in agitation. 

“They're goddamn distracting,” he grumbled again. “And you're teasin’ me on purpose.”

“I'm not doing anything,” you replied. “I'm just sitting here, Frank.”

“Bullshit,” he muttered. “Absolute bullshit, sweetheart.”

“What? Can't handle a bit of skin, Frank?” you teased back, gradually losing the act. “I know you like my dresses but…you're that distracted?”

His head turned over his shoulder, eyeing you closely for a moment. With a grunt and a shake of his head, he focused back on the road once more.

“You even wearing anything under that?” he asked. 

You bit your lip, trying not to overdo the coyness in your tone when you answered. “No, it's more comfortable with nothing underneath,” you answered him. “I've told you that before, Frank.”

“Goddamn tease,” he muttered under his breath.

Shifting in the seat beneath the straps of your seatbelt, you laid your head back along the headrest and closed your eyes. As you sat there pretending to relax and rest your eyes, you could practically feel the way Frank’s were roaming over your body. 

Shimmying in the seat again, you readjusted your legs on the dashboard, crossing the opposite leg over the one that had been on top. The hem of your sundress slid further up your thighs as you moved. You didn't need to open your eyes to know the fabric had revealed even more bare skin, especially when beside you Frank let out a curse under his breath. One corner of your lip twitched briefly upwards at the sound before you heard Frank let out a loud, irritated groan. 

“Dammit, sweetheart!” he growled. “I saw that damn smirk.”

Your eyes flew open, your head rolling on the headrest towards Frank as you openly grinned. “Okay, yeah,” you admitted. “I'm doing it on purpose. But only because you're so fun to fluster and it's been so damn long since we've had sex. I couldn't resist.”

Frank glanced over at you, his eyes narrowing a fraction. “Do I need to turn this truck back around instead, sweetheart? Take you back home? I was trying to give you a nice goddamn day and here you are doing this.”

“Relax, Frank,” you said as you rested a hand along his thigh, grinning when the muscle tensed beneath your palm. “I'll thank you plenty for the brunch date and for putting up with me afterwards. I promise.”

Frank shot you another look, his jaw tightening before he focused back on driving. “Can bet your ass I'm gonna hold you to that later, sweetheart,” he grumbled.

Frank Castle One Shot Tag List: @heimtathurs @linamarr @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @shiorimakibawrites @xxdrixx @leikelle @pinkratts @1988-fiend @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @stilldreaming666 @will-delete-this-later-probably @yarrystyleeza @pone21 @millennial-birkin @harleycao @kezibear @justanerd1 @sadest-bookshelf @loves0phelia

[twst-drabbles]

Malleus 19

Summary: You're sick as a dog and all you wanna do is lay in bed. The little dragon Malleus, on the other hand, wants you to entertain him.

(Wanted to write about a little cutie. So here you go.)

Ough, you are in a pit of muggy heat and horrible, horrible mucus.

Why did you go out? Why did you decide to go to the festival on Kalim's insistence even though you knew you were coming down with something bad? Past you was a fool, and now you were paying the price for it.

You felt gross. You are gross. Ugh. Nothing to do but wait for this to pass over, and maybe take some meds if it becomes too much, or at least have something before bed so you don't wake up in the middle of the night.

You sighed, coughed when you breathed too quickly, then blindly reached out to the water you kept on your nightstand. Your fingers hit something cold, and you grasped it tightly without a second thought.

Squeak!

…that's not a sound a water bottle should make. That sounded more like a fart than a squeak.

You reluctantly lifted your head, then blinked at the glaring glowing green eyes. He opened his mouth and let a flicker of fire tickle your skin. Whoops.

"Oh," you loosened your grip and Malleus spread his wings, hovering in the air, "Though you were my water. Didn't mean to."

It's right behind him, shining beautifully in the light but, ugh, you'll have to stretch yourself to get it and you really don't want to move. Your muscles were sore from all the walking alongside the fact that your sick.

"Ugh. Well, do whatever you like, Malleus. I'm not feeling the best."

You sniffled and roughly cleared your throat as best you could. You didn't succeed, and now you have more mucus coating your lungs. Breathing is possible, but so very uncomfortable. Horrible. Horrendous.

You heard a few flaps and felt a small dip in your pillow. Two tiny hands patted at your head, then started to shove. You shook your head and flipped yourself to the other side of the bed. You'll get your water later, you're getting sleepy again. Besides, at least you have some soup to look forward to from Crowley. Kalim wanted to take cooking duties but he doesn't exactly have the best idea on what makes a good sick meal.

Small steps traveled over your plush pillows, and now the little dragon was pushing at your shoulder.

Ah, he wants you to get up, for whatever little dragon fae activities he has planned for the day.

"Don't," you lightly pushed him away, "I need sleep."

Little claws hooked onto your blanket, and a small body heaved itself onto your neck. Cool scales swept over your face, tickled your nose, and you shot right up to scramble for a tissue.

You let out a colossal sneeze. "Ough, thank you." You said to no one in particular, glad that you can actually breath again.

You crumpled up the tissue, tossed it into the trashcan, then finally noticed the spread eagle, frozen Malleus. He always had a set of wide eyes that looked at the world with a curious wonder, and if not mystified, then he's usually not thinking anything at all. Empty, empty eyes, but oh so expressive.

Right now, Malleus was looking at you with shock.

"What? Never seen a sick person before?" Your voice was still nasally as ever, but it's clearer than before, at least. "You've been around Silver. Shouldn't he have been sick once or twice?"

Another tickle bloomed from the back of your nose and you grasped another tissue. You scrunched up, ready to let another sneeze rip out, but it faded away as quickly as the wind when you saw Malleus dash under your pillows. Every part of him was swallowed. All you could see was his eerie green eyes.

You blinked, then something clicked. "…ah, my sneezes scare you."

Makes sense, you don't bother being quiet since you've lived here along for a little too long. You get used to having nobody over, so you've stopped being aware of just how loud you can be.

You blew your nose and sighed in relief. "If you want to go home, by all means. Because I'm not gonna stop sneezing anytime soon."

Malleus gave the littlest of growls, evidently annoyed. You squashed him under the pillow he took refuge in.

[miyukisu]

A Trace of Body Paint .ᐟ

❤︎ Request | He's learning anatomy for his art class—you'll help him, right? 3.1k wc ╰ feat. artist!shidou ryusei (bllk) x afab!reader

tags - lots of tension and build up at first, p*rn with plot, college au, artist! shidou, he and reader are both experienced, FILTHY, dirty talk, unprotected smeggs, rough smeggs, face f*cking, creampies, overstim, no y/n, not beta read

MEGA MASTERLIST

minors do not interact

"Yeah! I'll see you next week for my next assignment. Okay?"

Yeah right... next week...

You didn't peg Shidou as the type to flake on you, especially since he was the one who needed something from you. At first, you gave him the benefit of the doubt, then your mind wandered to impossible territory.

Maybe he found a different person to model for him.

Maybe you weren't good enough a model and he was getting low marks because of you...

But wouldn't that be his fault?

Maybe... he dropped out of class?

Every possibility crossed your mind, but not once did you think of actually asking him, "Hey, what's up with not calling me anymore to model for your art class? You know... THE THING WE DO WEEKLY?"

But pride does get the best of us. You are no different. Either the world ends or he grovels at your feet for ghosting you like that. Anyway, why did you care so much?

Shidou Ryusei only asked you to model for him for a few weeks for an art course he was taking. It just so happens you two were close and your schedules matched (and he thought you were really pretty). In exchange, he'd treat you after every drawing session. Ordinary stuff—that was until you slowly started to develop feelings for him.

There was something about the way he looked at you as he studied every minute detail—making sure they were all transferred to paper. He made you feel so... beautiful in ways you've never realized before. But most of all, you fell for such a creative and passionate spirit.

You were snapped out of your thoughts upon spotting a familiar hairdo across the quad. Your eyes met and you made sure not to waste this opportunity—glaring at him, making sure he knew how much he had pissed you off. Shidou looked left and right, possibly trying to find a way out of it. But maybe the intensity in your eyes worked because before you knew it—he was making his way to you.

"Hey..."

"Really? That's all you have to say after ignoring the texts I sent last week?"

"Eh... must've missed them," he lied.

"What about the time you saw me near your building? You missed me standing a meter away from you?"

"Guess so," he lied again.

His nonchalance made you want to rip your hair out. This hot-and-cold treatment was driving you up the wall. It was clear with the exasperated look on your face.

Though, his eyes never left yours—those same damn eyes that stared at you for hours. It was like there was something he wanted to say, but couldn't.

"Why did you even walk over here?"

He sighed like he didn't gave a shit. "You looked like you were about to murder me."

"Shouldn't you be running away then?" you countered. Shidou simply shrugged. "I'm not sure either."

You were about to unleash your fury, but he sighed loudly before continuing. "Fuck... fine. I've been avoiding you."

"Yes. I can clearly see that. The question is—why?"

"Look. I've been getting the highest scores in class because I have the luxury to have an actual person model for me... while everyone else relies on references on the internet or whatever," he explains. "But now... it's..."

"Isn't that a good thing then?" you asked—confused by his reasoning, but even more confused by his change in demeanor.

He shook his head. "Nah... it's just... I won't be needing you anymore."

Your jaw dropped. He said it so casually like it didn't just left a gaping hole in your chest.

"I mean," he backtracked. "We're gonna start drawing nude figures soon, so either you're willing to strip for me or—"

You cut him off. "Are you gonna draw my face with it?"

"Eh, all I need to draw now is the body since we're done with portraits and—"

You cut him off again. "Then draw me."

"Wha—" Shidou was cut off once more. "You heard me. Draw me," you say, as if challenging him.

It earns a hearty laugh from him—one you haven't heard in a while. "You're saying you're gonna stand butt naked in front of me while I stare at you for an hour or two? You know how that sounds, right?"

"It sounds like you're gonna stare at me butt naked for an hour or two."

You were so shameless, he thought. But it was one of the many things he liked about you. He chuckled, amused by the way things turned. Well... what kind of artist would he be to turn down such an enticing muse?

Shidou let out a low whistle as soon as the last article of clothing met the floor. You used to do these drawing sessions in the library—when all he had to observe from you were innocent things like your eyes, your hands, your hair, and so on.

But now that you have to bare everything to him, you figured the only place to do it was at his dorm. It was like what you imagined: cluttered but artsy enough that you could let it pass.

You stood awkwardly in the middle, feeling a bit chilly with nothing to protect you. But you posed, placing a hand on your hip while looking off to the side. That way, there wouldn't be any awkward eye contact.

Shidou sat down on a stool and quickly got to drawing. He said nothing as his eyes constantly flitted between the paper and your body.

The first few minutes in—you became hyperaware of everything. The fact that he was seeing absolutely everything. The absurdity of this entire situation. But most of all, the way your body was reacting to his gaze.

From your peripheral, you could see his gaze linger a bit too long at times. He'd bite his lower lip every so often and it made you feel conscious. Was he doing that because he could see your nipples hardening due to the temperature? Maybe he noticed the way you'd subtly rub your thighs together?

Whatever it was—it had him clearing his throat and shifting in his seat, seemingly uncomfortable.

Around 15 minutes pass, until he finally spoke. "Feeling tired yet?" he asked without looking up from his paper. You figured he was applying the final touches at this point.

"Yeah. A bit."

He hummed in response. "Get comfortable on my bed then."

"What? On your bed? Now?"

Shidou looked up from his paper. At this point both of you were desensitized by your nakedness (or so you thought). "Yes. Now. I have to draw you in at least 3 poses."

Three?

You gulped. But, once more, pride creeps up. You can't just challenge him to draw you naked so boldly—only for you to back down now. You gathered yourself and sat on his bed which was only a few steps away.

"Go on. You can get comfortable," he encouraged.

So you did. You lied down on your side, propping your head up on your hand. The scene that had unfolded reminded you of that one Titanic scene: Rose sprawled out for Jack to draw.

Knowing that, the moment felt too intimate. But you sucked it up... even though there was an unwanted wetness forming at your core.

Shidou shifted in his seat again, lowering his paper on his lap. "Alright, keep that position," he said, a bit strained.

In this position, you couldn't look off to the side. Your only option for the next few minutes was the wall behind him or Shidou himself.

At some point, your eyes met. There was something in his eyes you've never seen before. It wasn't the usual focus he had; it was something else. Something more intense.

But the 2nd pose passes soon enough and you were down to your last.

"What should I do now?"

He sighed, looking over his current sketches. "Lemme think. I'm having a hard time getting the details right."

"Maybe it's because you're sitting so far away," you commented—not thinking about what it implied.

His eyes zeroed in on you again—caught by your words. You want him to come closer with you like that and him slowly losing his composure? You were playing a dangerous game and you had no idea yet.

Shidou finally stood up from his chair, walking over to the bed. You weren't sure if it was just your imagination, but he was hard. His length strained against his fitted pants. The sight had your mouth watering.

He sat down beside you, eyes never leaving yours. The atmosphere seemed charged with the way you two found yourselves slowly leaning into each other.

"You look great," he whispered. It was something he always said in these sessions. It was a rather simple compliment. But it held more weight now.

"Thanks," you meekly responded. Neither of you realized how fast he inched towards you. His lips were a breath away. You showed no signs of backing away, so he went in.

He pressed his lips on to yours. The kiss felt hungry—needy almost—like he was fighting off this urge for so long. Before you knew it, his weight pushed you down on the softness of his bed. His scent enveloped every sense, clouding your judgement.

Shidou pulled away, breathless. "Pose like this."

He sat upright, eyes raking over your body. This time, he didn't hide the way his gaze would linger on certain parts. His hands ran down your legs, admiring the softness of your skin.

Then, without warning, he pried your legs open. But you didn't stop him. His pink irises trailed down to your core, seeing how wet you've gotten. Shidou thought he was drooling.

"Fuck... I wish I could draw this."

You feel your chest tightening. "Why not?"

"And let everyone see this?" his fingers ghosted over the skin of your inner thigh. "No chance in hell. I want to be the only one to appreciate my muse."

He let his thumb swipe through your folds softly before pressing lightly into your clit, earning a mewl from you. He kept circling the sensitive nub as if in a trance.

"I know what I want the last pose to be," he says. You moan a little louder as he rubs your clit faster. "Want your last pose to be you all fucked out... think you can do that?"

Words got caught in your throat. But it hardly mattered. It didn't seem like he'd take 'no' for an answer anyway.

Things escalated quickly because you soon found his finger plunging in and out of your quivering hole. He made sure to curve it in a way—relentlessly hitting that gummy spot on your walls.

He added another finger, wanting to hear more of your breathless moans reverberating throughout his room. To hell with it if his neighbors heard. This was music—it was art in its purest form.

"Shit... might just cum in my pants from this." He almost did after you clenched down on his fingers, cumming for the first time today.

Even as you coat his digits with your essence, he keeps pushing his fingers in and out until the fluttering died down a bit. He pulled his sticky fingers out before having a taste, savoring every last bit.

He made quick work of his belt, pulling down his pants and letting his member out. Your eyes widened. Not only was his size impressive, but his tip was incredibly swollen and leaky—like he couldn't wait anymore.

Shidou exhaled deeply, feeling the chill of his room brush over the sensitive length. He locked eyes with you again. "Care to take care of me a bit? My hand hurts from all that drawing... and... well, you know what else."

Normally, you'd bite back at his teasing. But your mind was fuzzy. All you could do was wrap your fingers around his length, slowly tugging it at first. The pleasure he felt after being so hard for so long took the strength from him. He almost fell on top of you if it weren't for his thick arms supporting him from either side of you.

"C'mon... do it fucking faster," he ordered. You obeyed—jerking him off as fast as you can without hurting him. It wasn't long before his own hand wrapped around yours as he continued to fuck into your fist. Next thing you knew—hot ropes of cum painted your stomach.

Even he was in a daze as he observed a part of him stained you in such an intimate way. He slowly leaned in, his breath fanning your face. "Hey, can I paint you like this? You look even better with my cum all over you."

You let go of his semi-hard member, slowly tracing his muscles up until you cupped his cheek. Gently, you pulled him down for a searing kiss. It was more than enough for him to know that you too wanted more.

He became rougher—biting your lip and fighting your tongue for dominance. As you pulled away for air, Shidou moved quickly to straddle your upper body. He shamelessly took his cock and slapped it against your lips a couple of times.

"Gonna have to help me get hard again, sweets. Help me out, won't you?"

Though he didn't really give you time to respond as he invaded your mouth inch by inch. One hand held the headboard while the other supported your head. He rolled his hips slowly, gauging how much you can take in at a time.

But, clearly, he underestimated you when you gripped his hips and pulled him in yourself. You felt his cock spring back to life steadily. He pulled out his hardened shaft, letting you breathe. It was only now you realized the grin that crossed his face. He was enjoying this way too much.

He went back to hovering over you, his cock bouncing at every move he made. Your body was jelly at this point—not even a bit of resistance as he flipped you over so easily. He licked a long stripe from your lower back up until your nape. The fresh saliva combined with the chilly air made you shudder.

He carelessly lifted up your hips. With your cheek pressed into his pillows and your ass up in the air, he only got harder at the sight. He leaned down to be eye-to-eye with this so-called masterpiece, your cunt.

His nimble fingers toyed around with your soaked folds, chuckling to himself. "Man, I don't think I could ever capture something so damn beautiful."

He gave it a quick lick to test. "Well, unless you let me get familiar with her long enough." Another lick. "Maybe I can capture at least half of its beauty." Another lick. "Don't you think?"

A muffled sound was the only thing he got from you. "Yeah? You're gonna let me get to know her? As an artist, I'm overjoyed right now. Maybe I should show you."

And show he did.

He lapped up at your arousal, tongue licking long stripes each time. Your legs threatened to give out every time he flattened the pink muscle against your twitching hole. It didn't take long before he started darting in and out. Helpless groans filled his small dorm room.

Big calloused hands squeezed the flesh of your ass, making sure you stayed in place for him to enjoy. He was so messy... so so messy. Shidou suckled on your clit—really trying to coax another orgasm from you.

It didn't take much more for you to cum again, but this time all over his mouth. He happily took in everything, reaping the fruits of his labor.

He gave your ass one quick kiss as if to show his thanks. But he wasted no time lining up his painfully erect cock against your entrance. "Fuuuuck, I need to be inside you already or I'm actually going to explode," he muttered.

At first, it was just the tip. But it stretched you out so good already. The needy whine that escaped you was a testament to that. It only made him grip your hips tighter, surely leaving a mark for you to see tomorrow. Carefully, he pushed in more of his length, feeling every bump of your pussy engulf him.

"Shit. This is the stuff."

But he got impatient, shoving in the rest of his length without warning. It was so tight, so warm—too inviting for him to handle. His hands left your hips, opting to find support on the mattress instead. His thick arms caged you as his chest pressed against your back.

He continued to whisper the filthiest things in your ear, kissing your neck occasionally. But for as slow and sensual his voice may seem, his hips snapped with reckless abandon. He wasn't shy about giving you your third and, maybe, fourth orgasm of the day while chasing his own.

"You finally understand why I didn't want to ask you?"

"Yeah... I knew I was gonna end up fucking you real hard."

"But this is so much better than what I imagined."

His words brought you over the edge, cumming again. But the overstimulation rendered you thoughtless. The only thing on your mind was how good he was dicking you down.

"Fuck... Ryu!" you screamed. His grin only grew wider.

"That's it. Scream my fucking name. Let them hear it."

Your wanton moans encouraged him to go faster, mercilessly pistoning into you. It wouldn't be a surprise if you came another time on his cock.

Shidou harshly grabbed your tit, hoisting both of you up into a sitting position. This way, his cock reached even deeper into you. He kneaded your neglected breast while keeping you steady by the waist.

He showed no signs of slowing—even reaching down to play with your clit. A tear was rolling down your face from how sensitive he made you. But he quickly licked the salty tear off of the curve of your cheek.

He whispered softly, "Cum with me."

Just like the obedient muse that you were, you did. You clamped down on him as he shot rope after rope of gooey seed into you. Finally, he slowed down a bit, letting him empty himself in your pulsing cunt.

As you calmed down and he softened, he gently laid you back down on the soft mattress of his bed. He watched as his cum oozed out of you, smirking to himself.

"My best piece of work yet."

©miyukisu do not repost/reupload/translate any of my works on other platforms

╰ author's note WHAT THE FUCK DID I WRITE DAWG I WAS SO ON EDGE THE WHOLE TIME HELP WHY IS IT SO FILTHY