#That’s not a knife but idk what to call it okay | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

toxicanonymity · 2 years ago

Note

omg the way every inch makes me drool idk what u did to me i haven’t been the same since 😃 ur so talented i owe u my kidney for that fic alone ! would ever consider part two?? no pressure !!!

EVERY INCH 2

2200 words, m!ghostface x f!reader

follows Every Inch. NEXT: Every inch 3

SERIES MASTERLIST

A/N: He's never unmasked. He is night walks coded. Thank you for all the love on my first Ghostface fic. This was a "one shot fail" because of your engagement & enthusiasm. WARNINGS: I8+ piv, noncon, he calls himself daddy, voyeurism, dirty talk, masturbation, knifeplay, hair pulling, manhandling, choking kinda, degradation, pet names. NO USE OF Y/N.

SUMMARY: Last time you saw ghostface, he was unconscious from the car wreck and you had your way with him. Now, he's coming to take what's his.

You've put Ghostface behind you, at least in terms of fearing for your life. He's finally left you alone. He must be too humiliated to face you after you restrained him and had your way with him in the car while he was passed out. You still look at the picture you took every day. You'd like to get it printed and stick it on your bathroom mirror. He looks so pathetic with his own mess all over his robe. But it's not just the humiliation you love to see. It's his cock. . .

Yeah, his cock. You've thought about it more than a few times. He would've given you every inch. All you had to do was ask. And the video of him whimpering? You save that for special occasions. Like when you need to cum in a hurry.

It's Friday night and you're lying in bed after getting home from seeing a movie. You make sure your vibrator is charged before you start reading, but soon enough you get distracted. You're looking at your video of Ghostface coming all over himself when a call pops up on the screen. No ringtone. Your phone is still on silent from the theater.

The restricted number still makes your heart jump even after such an empowering victory. But you rip the bandaid off and answer it on the first ring. "Hello?"

"So... how'd you like the movie?" the voice changer asks you.

You panic and hang up, but when he calls right back, you answer again. "This isn't funny, whoever you are."

"You know it's me, baby. You feel it in your. . . pants."

"What do you want?"

"I asked how you liked the movie."

Friday night. Lucky guess. You know he’s not going to let it go, so you might as well answer. You’re not going to give him the satisfaction of acting aghast that he knows what you did tonight. "Fine, I liked it. It was fun,” you say dismissively.

"Picked a bad time to refill your drink. . . Missed a great kill."

Your heart jumps. ". . .you were there?" The theater wasn't even that crowded. How could he go undetected? Surely you would have recognized something about a man you rode into oblivion.

He's bemused. "What, you thought I was gone? Nowhere?”

"wishful thinking," you reply.

Ghostface says, “Oh, we both know what you really wish for. . .”

You’re not even going to argue.

“How was your date?"

"How was yours with your hand?" You retort.

"You didn't look interested.”

"What, are you gonna ask me out?" Your face heats up as you hear your own words.

"Not tonight. 'Cause you've got a date with that toy and my picture, don't ya?”

You freeze.

He taunts, "Want a third wheel?"

You ask, "How long have you been watching me?"

"Never stopped, sugar." You feel like a fool for thinking he had. “I’ve just been a little. . . distracted.”

You scoff.

". . . Okay, did you call just to talk?"

"Wanted some audio with my visual this time."

"Pervert."

“oh I'm the pervert," he chides. Your face is burning up.

"You know, you’ve still got something of mine.” His knife. You’ve hid it somewhere special. “Keep comin’ for it. . .but don’t wanna interrupt you.”

You look out your window, which faces the woods. "Cause you put on a good show, baby." There’s never been a reason to close the curtains. You preferred to see danger coming. Danger like him. A lot of good that’s done you.

“You’re a creature of habit, aren’t you?”

Are you that predictable?

“Lucky for me,” he adds darkly. His breathing becomes audible. “Oh, you like this, don't you . . . knew ya would. . . . .Dripping already.” His voice is steady through the equalizer, but his speech pattern tells you his dick is hard. And god damn if he isn’t turning you on.

“Dip a finger and show daddy how wet you are.”

Before you know it, you're doing it. You don’t show him, but you curiously dip you fingers and pull apart the clear string of of your arousal

“Two fingers . . let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” You lie there clenching your thighs together.

“Ah, fuck it. Go ahead, turn it on,” he says but you don’t move. You clench your thighs together. “Turn it on,” he repeats firmer, and something possesses you to turn your vibrator on.

“Yeah, that’s it . . .”

You don’t even need the picture now, or the video, or your reading. But you don’t exactly want to let him make you come this fast.

He sighs and says, “You’ve got a nice, juicy pussy." He spits, which the voice changer doesn’t process.

You close your eyes and recall what it felt like impaling yourself on his cock.

"You don't have to say it," he reassures you menacingly. "I know I’ve got a nice cock.”

He’s right about that. You close your eyes as you touch yourself. You’re too horny to think straight, but in the back of your mind, you try to tell yourself he killed your friends. He killed your friends. It doesn’t make you any less turned on. You sigh in shame at yourself. How does Ghostface have you wrapped around his finger?

“Oh, it’s only natural, baby. This cock’ll fuck you right up.” God, why does that turn you on? “In the guts and the head.”

"Real shame I wasn’t awake.” He breathes heavily for a few seconds. "Coulda been even better for you.”

You fail to suppress a moan as heat is bubbling in your core.

“Yeah. . .Can’t stop thinkin' about this cock, can ya?”

You turn up the intensity of your vibe.

“Not everyday someone takes every inch of this.” He moans weakly then spits again. “Filthy girl. Swallowed it right up.”

“So tell me, sugar," his breathing is even heavier now. "How do you want it?”

“What if i don’t” you lie, then gasp at the tension in your core.

“Then why’d you take it,” he says with a bite and the heavy breathing stops.

“Because,” you pant. “It was there.”

You’re getting close. “How do you want me,” you self-loathingly ask. He doesn’t answer. You look at your phone and he’s gone. Shit. You open the video you took of him and as soon as you hear him whimper, your body jerks as the tension bursts inside you. As soon as you finish pulsing, the regret hits you like a tidal wave. So fucked up. Soooo disgusting. You need a shower.

—---

You take a long, hot shower, listening to music. You sigh, feeling a little better already. You turn off the water.

“Soaking wet. That’s how I want you.” You freeze and the only sound is the dripping water for a few seconds while the song changes.

“Come on, you’re smarter than this.” The voice changer echoes through your bathroom and you almost fall over. “What’s next? Going down to the basement?”

You stand silently in the shower with your heartbeat echoing in your ears. There’s nothing you can do. You squat down, hugging your knees. There’s no good option.

The shower curtain slowly draws open and he looms above you.

“My turn, baby." The glint of a knife–your own kitchen knife–catches your eye. He tilts his head slightly and observes you for a moment. Then he pulls your hair and violently forces you to your feet. You begin to slip and he catches you, then manhandles you out of the tub and you whimper. You’re thrashing around wet and naked. He drags you to the bathroom sink and puts you between him and the sink, both of you facing the mirror. He reaches out and wipes the mirror with his robe to make sure you can see.

The sight is surreal. You’re completely nude with Ghostface up against you. One gloved hand cups your breast while the other raises the knife. He stays behind you and holds your own kitchen knife to your throat.

He inhales audibly. “So clean and so filthy.”

You elbow him in the gut. “Let go of me.”

“Afraid not, baby. . .” The hand leaves your breast and slides lower. He presses on your hip, bringing you tight against him. “Too late now.” His hips push forward and the massive shape of his hard cock makes you weak.

He holds you still with just one of his big arms as you struggle. “Coulda had it how ya wanted.”

The unwelcome throb between your legs is spreading through your abdomen.

“Now you’re gonna take it right here.” He keeps you pinned to the counter, the arm with the knife holding you still while he lifts his robe and tugs his PJ pants down. “You’ve put me behind you after all.” He jerks you back against him, pulling you off the counter and holding you tight against his hard dick. He lightly trails the tip of the knife down your cleavage and your stomach, dipping into your belly button on its way down to your mound. Then he holds it handle-up and teases your cunt with the flat of the knife as you watch in the mirror. The cold metal sends a shiver down your spine and you watch your nipples harden.

“Who are you?”

“Your favorite bad guy. Ask me a. . . harder one.” He grinds himself against you.

“What do you want?”

“To know what your insides feel like.” You suck in a deep breath and register the smell of weed as his cock twitches against your bare skin. “When I’m awake,” he adds.

He pries your legs apart with his knee, then his glove brushes your inner thighs as he aligns his cock at your entrance. “Oh you’re ready ready,” he says. He notches himself with the thick head of his cock resting snug against your wet little hole, then he holds you tight and shoves himself into you with a sigh. You have to try not to moan with the most welcome stretch. “Hell yeah,” the mask says into your ear. Thank God you’re so wet, because there is a lot of him. He pulls back, then slams into you, bottoming out with a grunt then another sigh. You watch your face in the mirror and try to wipe the enjoyment off it.

The hand with the knife rests against your chest as he pounds you. “You’re lucky you’re so hot.” You want to memorize the feeling of his cock inside you so you can come to it later instead of giving him the satisfaction right now. He pants as he thrusts into you harder. “So. . .damn. . . hot.” You look down watching your breasts jiggle as he rails you. “I don’t think so. . . baby.” He grabs your chin and makes you look back up at the mirror. Your drooping eyelids give away how good you feel.

“Take it like a bad girl.” He grunts and brutally fucks you in the way you’re afraid only he can. No, no, you shouldn’t be thinking thoughts like this. “A real bad girl.” A climax is gathering in your lower belly. “Cock hungry little slut,” he bites and it makes you twitch. “This pussy’s mine now, you know.”

He buries himself inside you for another minute and makes it rough. “Now or never baby," he pants. “Know you wanna come on this cock.” God, you do. “Do it now.” He slams into you harder than ever and groans as he begins to pulse inside you. You can’t stop it. The feeling of his climax trips you into your own. Your needy cunt chokes his cock, milking him of an unfathomable load. He fucks you through it and your body jerks into his imposing, robed form. His cum is in every crevice of your core. You can’t help but moan and sigh.

“Good girl,” he says.

His cock slides out of you, leaving a void that slowly caves in on itself. He tucks it back into his pants.

------

Ghostface forcibly positions your chin to take one last look in the mirror. Then he picks up your phone from the counter and forces you to swipe the camera on. He points it at the mirror and says, “say cheese.” He tosses your phone back on the counter, then slams you chest-first into the back of the door with an impact. He holds the knife to the side of your neck and says, “you’re welcome.” He really smells like weed.

“Now where’s my knife.”

“I don’t have it,” you claim.

“I don’t believe you.”

“What’s so special about it?”

“It’s mine.”

“The cops have it.”

“No they don’t. Why are you lying?”

You’re not really sure. He presses the flat of the knife so hard against your throat you start to choke. “Okay,” you manage hoarsely. He lets you breathe. You look behind him toward the toilet.

He drags you by the elbow to the toilet. He opens the back of it and the knife is wrapped up in a grocery bag. “You watch too many movies,” he says. He pushes you out of the way, opens the door, and leaves. The song turns to Call Me by Blondie.

NEXT: PART 3

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Please engage (reblog/comment) if you want more of this <333 It might go a long way in motivation.

Yes this is my night walks coded ghostface but I think most people reading this don't know what night walks is lol.

Call Me:This Blog::Red Right Hand:Canon. But in this case it especially makes sense 🥹

@hearteyed-shawty had a song rec last time: I'm Yours by Isabel Derosa.

Slasher master list

@ghostslittlegf @sunflowerleii @igotmajordaddyissues @rileyquinn07

#ghostface x reader #ghostface smut #mickey altieri x reader #billy loomis x reader #ethan landry x reader #ghostface x you #slasher fanfiction #danny johnson x reader #cw noncon #slasher smut #tw noncon #ghostface #slasher fucker #toxicanonymity ☠️#mickey altieri #ghostface ☠️#every inch ☠️#dark fic

11K notes · View notes

yaniluvs · 9 days ago

Text

a song , that sounds like you

[ 한 ] ✷ ‎. . sleepover with your best friend, just like before. except that . . it isn't ?

۫ 𖨂 𓈒 𝑏sf!han ₊ ‎ ‎ 𝑓em!reader ˙ . ꒷ g. fluff , humour , crack , best friends to lovers , uni au , skz ensemble . 71OOw. ⎯⎯⎯ LiBRARY ⟢ cw. kisses , jokes , intimacy . ┆ 💌 ⋮ requested drabble .ᐟ ֹ ₊

yani's note 𑁍ࠬܓ THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ~I.5K WORDS. yani, dont over-write and turn every simple thing into a longfic challenge: go-> status: failed. THATS WHY I TOOK SO LONG. but anyways.... i read this like a gazillion times and im very slightly unhappy about it????? idk. but i got sick of it at some point so i didnt rly proofread for the final time. soooo finally another jisung fic lol >< posted way too much abt seungmo.. not that im complaining hehe. tribute to my beloved permed-jisung and pre-shaved jisung🙏 you're missed plenty. enjoy reading, thanks to anon for the req. <3 comments, likes, req./asks and reblogs are always appreciated !! send in a reply or an ask if you want to be in my mastertag, or my individual series' taglists. happy reading, love <3

the night felt like any other. it was nothing new. nothing unusual.

jisung had crashed at y/n’s dorm more times than he could count, so many that they’d stopped calling it a "sleepover" years ago. it was just… what they did.

tonight was no different—except maybe it was.

jisung flopped onto her bed dramatically, limbs splayed out like a starfish. "i'm dying."

y/n, arms crossed, raised an unimpressed brow. "you literally just walked in."

"my point." he turned his head toward her, grinning wide, dimples pressing into his cheeks. "the walk from my dorm to yours? brutal. my legs almost gave up. i nearly saw the light. i need some support here,"

"what you need is exercise, ji," she laughed, already walking past him toward the kitchen. "come on lazy ass, we’re cooking."

jisung groaned, rolling onto his stomach. "cooking? can’t we order food? delivery is, like, the peak of human civilization."

"you mean the peak of your laziness."

"same thing."

"you’re cooking today."

jisung immediately sat up. "i’m sorry, what?"

"you heard me."

"y/n, have you ever seen me successfully make anything that isn’t watered-down instant ramen or burnt eggs?"

"exactly why you need to learn." she shot him a knowing smile, opening the fridge. "come on, chef-nim, apron up."

jisung scoffed. "you act like i own an apron."

"you act like i don't have a spare." she tossed a black apron his way. he caught it with a dramatic sigh, slipping it over his tee. "this is humiliating."

y/n simply tied her own apron around her waist, moving swiftly around the kitchen. jisung, however, stood in the middle of it like he was lost in a foreign land.

"so," he said, rocking on his heels, "what are we making, masterchef?"

"some fried rice, with stir-fry for the sides."

"sounds safe enough. do i get a knife?" his eyes lightened up.

y/n turned to him, eyes full of doubt, hands on her hips. "do i look like i trust you with a knife?"

he clutched his chest. "ouch."

"jisung, the last time you touched a knife, you almost lost a finger."

"it was one time!"

"one time too many." she handed him a bowl instead. "crack the eggs."

"i can do that," he said confidently.

y/n watched as he picked up an egg, tapped it on the edge of the bowl—nothing. he hit it again. still intact.

"jisung."

"hold on, it's just being stubborn."

"you're literally supposed to—"

before she could finish, he smacked the egg with full force. it exploded in his hand, yolk dripping between his fingers. he blinked.

"…okay. that was aggressive."

y/n burst out laughing. "oh, good lord.."

"why are you laughing?! this is tragic!" he held up his hand dramatically, as if he'd just lost a battle.

she wiped away tears of laughter. "you’re such a disaster."

"and yet you still keep me around."

"i really question why, sometimes."

jisung wiggled his eyebrows. "because you love me."

"debatable."

"wow. you wound me."

she handed him another egg. "try again, but gently this time."

he pouted but followed her instructions. on the second try, he succeeded. barely. a little bit of shell fell into the bowl, but he picked it out quickly, flashing her a victorious grin.

"see? improvement."

y/n shook her head with a fond smile. "barely."

as she moved on to frying the rice, jisung leaned against the counter, watching her. the warm glow of the kitchen lights softened her features, and the way she effortlessly moved around—it was second nature to her.

"you're so good at this," he murmured absentmindedly.

she glanced up. "at what?"

"everything," he said simply.

her movements stilled for a second before she rolled her eyes, turning back to the pan. "corny."

"honest."

she pushed his forehead lightly with her fingers. "shut up and hand me the soy sauce."

jisung grinned, grabbing the bottle and sliding it over the counter toward her. "see? i am useful."

"debatable."

jisung gasped. "you really enjoy hurting me, huh?"

y/n only smiled as she stirred the rice.

they fell into a comfortable silence after that—jisung humming some random tune, y/n focusing on the food. it was normal. routine. nothing new.

except maybe it was.

because jisung found himself staring at her a little longer than usual.

and yn, for some reason, felt a little warmer than the stove’s heat should allow.

the aroma of warm rice, sizzling kimchi, and soy sauce had filled the small dorm, wrapping them in the kind of comfort that only home-cooked food could bring. y/n hummed softly as she scooped the steaming fried rice onto two plates, making sure to add an extra spoonful to her best friend's because she already knew he’d ask.

jisung, sprawled out on the floor like he had no bones in his body, watched her with a lazy grin. "you really know how to treat a man."

"you’re more of a babygirl, but okay," she replied without missing a beat, setting the plates down on the small coffee table in front of them.

"excuse me? i am very much a grown adult."

"sure," she snorted. "a grown adult who can't crack an egg."

jisung gasped, pressing a hand to his chest. "low blow."

yn only grinned as she grabbed the remote, flipping on the tv. they didn't even bother picking something to watch—just let some random show play in the background while she scrolled through a playlist on her phone.

and just like that, the room filled with their favorite songs.

the playlist hummed in the background, weaving through the warm, dimly lit dorm like a familiar embrace. soft indie melodies blended into old tracks from their high school days, each song a quiet echo of late-night car rides and whispered confessions. nestled between them were jisung’s own songs—songs he had written on restless nights, songs y/n had begged him to release, songs he pretended not to care about being in the playlist but secretly loved seeing there.

the air smelled of soy sauce and garlic. jisung sat cross-legged on the couch, his loose shirt and plaid pajama pants slightly wrinkled. his fluffy brown hair that he'd recently gotten permed, much to y/n's pleading, was tousled, curls falling over his forehead, casting soft shadows over his sleepy eyes. he scooped up a bite of fried rice, humming in approval as he chewed, blissfully unaware of the way y/n was watching him.

she sat on the floor, knees pulled to her chest, chin resting lazily against them, gaze fixed on him with a softness even she didn’t notice. he looked so at home, so effortlessly him, sitting there with his cheeks puffed out from the food she made, eyes drooping slightly from exhaustion. a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

he always ate with the enthusiasm of someone who hadn’t had a proper meal in days, shoveling food into his mouth like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

“you’re staring,” his voice came, teasing yet laced with fondness.

y/n blinked, heat creeping up her neck as she quickly looked away. “i am not.”

jisung grinned, swallowing another bite. “liar.”

but he didn’t press further. he only smirked to himself, going back to his food, pretending he didn’t notice the way she studied him when she thought he wasn’t looking.

what he wouldn’t admit—what he barely admitted to himself—was that he did the same thing.

when y/n wasn’t paying attention, lost in the flickering candlelight of their tiny dorm, jisung found himself staring. he always did. the glow of the fairy lights made her skin look softer, her features delicate and warm. her hair, slightly messy from their earlier chaos in the kitchen, framed her face in a way that made his heart ache.

she was wearing her pyjama set, and the sleeves were bunched up around her fists as she absentmindedly traced circles against the couch cushion, after a bite herself.

she was beautiful. in the quiet, in the soft spaces between their banter, in the way she existed in his world so effortlessly.

“now,” she called out suddenly, breaking him from his trance. “you’re staring.”

his breath caught in his throat, but he recovered quickly, flashing his usual cheeky grin. “i am not.”

“liar.”

their laughter mingled with the music, and for a moment, the weight of their hidden feelings melted into the warmth of the night.

jisung exhaled through his nose, shaking his head as he shoved another spoonful of rice into his mouth. he chewed slowly, eyes flickering between the half-empty plate and y/n, her expression unreadable except for the teasing glint in her gaze. his own voice filtered through the small dorm, warm and unfiltered, singing lyrics he once scribbled down at 2 a.m., never expecting them to be heard by anyone but himself.

he swallowed, running his tongue over his bottom lip before muttering, “you do this on purpose.”

y/n tilted her head, feigning confusion as she picked at her food. “do what?”

“this.” he gestured vaguely toward the speaker, his voice quieter now, almost sheepish. “make me listen to myself.”

she shrugged, stuffing another bite of rice into her mouth like it was the most natural thing in the world. “your music is good.”

jisung let out a small, breathy laugh, but there was something uncertain in the way his fingers tapped against the bowl. “you don’t have to lie to make me feel better, you know.”

y/n blinked, chopsticks pausing midair. “i’m not lying.”

“you say that.” he glanced at her, then away, focusing on a loose thread on his pajama pants. “but you’re my best friend. you’d tell me it’s good even if it wasn’t.”

she frowned, setting her chopsticks down with a soft clink against the ceramic. “sung..”

he didn’t respond, just stuffed another bite into his mouth, chewing like he was trying to make himself busy. y/n sighed, shifting so she could look at him properly. the glow of the fairy lights cast gentle shadows on his face, highlighting the quiet vulnerability in his eyes—the kind he tried so hard to hide.

“look,” she started, voice softer now. “i don’t put your songs in our playlists just because you’re my best friend. i put them there because they belong there.”

jisung stilled, fingers tightening around his spoon.

“you write music that makes people feel something. i know because i feel it. i always have.” she toyed with the hem of her top. “and maybe it’s because i’ve seen you go through every stage of it. the late nights, the self-doubt, the way you talk about music like it’s the only thing that makes sense in your life sometimes.”

he swallowed thickly, staring at his plate like it held answers.

“i don’t just like your music, jisung. i believe in it. i believe in you.”

silence settled between them, thick and heavy, but not uncomfortable. jisung’s throat bobbed as he licked his lips, finally daring to meet her gaze.

something unreadable flickered in his eyes, something fragile and hesitant and real.

“…you always say things like that.” his voice was quiet, uncertain. “and i never know what to do with it.”

y/n smiled, small and knowing. “you don’t have to do anything. just don’t forget it.”

he stared at her for a moment longer, chest tightening with something he didn’t quite have the courage to name. then, exhaling softly, he looked away, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.

“i won’t.”

they ate comfortably, stealing bites from each other's plates despite having the exact same food. it was normal, the way their chopsticks clinked against each other in midair, the way jisung would groan dramatically after every bite, acting as if he’d just tasted the best thing in the world.

"marry me," he said, mouth full.

y/n gave him a look. "chew first."

he swallowed, grinning. "okay, now will you marry me?"

"no."

jisung clutched his chest. "you are cruel, woman."

"you are an idiot, man."

"a lovable idiot," he corrected, shoving another spoonful into his mouth.

she rolled her eyes but didn't deny it.

a beat of silence passed between them, the kind that wasn't awkward but rather filled with something unspoken. jisung glanced at her between bites, again, watching the way the light from the tv flickered against her skin.

she looked… soft. comfortable. the same as always, but maybe not quite.

"so," y/n spoke suddenly, breaking him out of his thoughts. "how was your day?"

jisung blinked, needing a second to process the question. they spent most of their time together, but during classes, they went their separate ways. it was rare for them to actually talk about what happened when they weren't in the same place.

"uh," he started, stabbing his rice absentmindedly. "it was fine. boring. had a music composition lecture, but hyunjin fell asleep and snored loud enough for the whole class to hear."

y/n laughed. "no way."

"swear to god. professor park just stared at him for a solid minute before moving on."

"did no one wake him up?"

"i tried, but he swatted me away like a fly."

she shook her head, still laughing. "what else?"

jisung hesitated for a moment before answering, "i worked on a song between classes."

her expression softened. "the one you told me about?"

"yeah." he looked away, suddenly a little shy. "i, uh, actually finished the demo."

"jisung!" she smacked his arm lightly. "why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"i dunno," he muttered, playing with his chopsticks. "didn’t seem important."

"of course it’s important," she said firmly. "can i hear it?"

he met her eyes, something flickering behind his own, before he looked down again. "maybe later."

she didn't push, just nodded. "okay. your turn to ask."

he raised a brow. "ask what?"

"about my day, genius."

"oh. right." he leaned back, lazily twirling his chopsticks. "so, how was your day, my dear best friend whom i love and adore?"

she snorted. "it was fine. boring, mostly. but i had this duo project in business class."

jisung hummed in acknowledgment, taking another bite. "who’d you get stuck with?"

"a guy named sunwoo."

jisung froze mid-chew, his spoon hovering just inches from his lips. his brows furrowed for the briefest second before he blinked and forced himself to keep chewing, though suddenly, the fried rice didn’t taste as good anymore.

“i see..” he said after swallowing, voice casual. too casual. “never heard you mention him before.”

y/n shrugged, taking another bite. “yeah, we never really talked until today. he’s nice, though. smart, too. i was kinda worried i’d get stuck doing all the work, but he actually pulled his weight.”

jisung scoffed lightly, poking at his food. “that’s the bare minimum.”

she snorted. “true.”

silence stretched for a beat, the playlist shuffling to another song. jisung tapped his chopsticks against the edge of his bowl, trying to ignore the weird feeling curling in his stomach. it wasn’t a big deal. just a project partner. nothing to think about.

except—

“he was pretty talkative, too,” y/n continued, oblivious to the way jisung’s grip on his spoon tightened. “like, at first, it was just about the project, but then he started asking me random stuff. like, my favorite color, what i do in my free time, my favorite coffee order—”

jisung let out a short, almost incredulous laugh. “your coffee order? what, is he planning on getting you one next time?”

she blinked, considering. “i dunno, maybe. that’d be nice.”

jisung nearly choked on air. he coughed into his fist, shaking his head. “pfft. wow. sounds like he’s… really interested in your business skills.”

y/n laughed at that, nudging his leg with her foot. “oh, shut up. he was just being friendly.”

yeah, okay. sure.

he forced a grin, shoveling another bite of rice into his mouth like it would somehow get rid of the weird, nagging feeling inside him. “so, what else did he say?” he asked, tone still light, still playful. still pretending he didn’t care.

y/n hummed, thinking. “oh, he told me i have a really nice smile.”

jisung almost dropped his chopsticks.

“oh! and that i have pretty hands,” she added, wiggling her fingers in front of his face. “which is funny, ‘cause i don’t really get the whole hand thing, but—”

“he said what?” jisung cut in, voice cracking slightly.

she blinked up at him, confused. “...that i have pretty hands?”

jisung squinted at her like she was missing something obvious. “who compliments someone’s hands?”

“i don’t know! i mean, i guess they’re kinda nice…” she examined her own fingers, flexing them under the fairy lights. “they do a lot for me, you know? writing, playing, cooking—”

“okay, but still,” jisung interjected, trying not to sound too whiny. “that’s like—textbook flirting.”

y/n snorted. “no, it’s not.”

“yes, it is!” jisung threw his hands up. “first, he asks about your coffee order—classic move, by the way—then he calls your smile nice? and now your hands?” he pointed a dramatic chopstick at her. “that’s next-level, y/n. that’s, like, hand-holding agenda.”

she gave him a flat look. “i think you’re overreacting. personally i'd love making friends like that.” she laughed.

“no, you’re underreacting!” he groaned dramatically, flopping onto the couch, staring at the ceiling like it personally offended him. “i can’t believe this. my best friend is so oblivious.”

y/n just giggled, poking his knee. “oh, come on, ji. he was just being nice. and it’s not like i’m interested in him or anything.”

jisung perked up at that, a little too quickly. “you’re not?”

she shook her head, stuffing another bite of rice into her mouth. “nope.”

something unspoken settled in the air.

jisung let out a quiet breath, something inside him easing—but he still had an annoyed little pout on his lips. “still. he was flirting. you just don’t see it ‘cause you’re you.”

“hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“it means,” he huffed, crossing his arms, “that you’re too cute for your own good, and guys like him are gonna keep trying to hit on you while you remain completely, utterly unaware.”

y/n blinked, caught off guard.

jisung realized what he said half a second too late. his ears turned pink.

“…anyway!” he cleared his throat, suddenly stuffing his mouth with rice. “this is good fried rice. really, really good.”

y/n just watched him, something unreadable in her gaze. a small, knowing smile tugged at her lips.

“dork,” she muttered under her breath.

and if jisung, in his flustered state, caught the way she was staring at him now—soft, fond, admiring—he didn’t say a word.

"sunwoo. what kind of dumb name is that?"

she laughed, shaking her head.

soon, the food disappeared slowly between them, the plates scraping softly as y/n absentmindedly pushed the last bits of rice around with her chopsticks. jisung, on the other hand, had long since finished and was now leaning back on his palms, his head tilted toward the ceiling, looking entirely too satisfied. he stretched with a deep sigh, his tee riding up slightly, revealing a sliver of skin before settling back down.

"i’m convinced you were a chef in a past life," he said, breaking the silence, his voice laced with a kind of sleepy contentment.

y/n smirked, still focused on her plate. "i’ll take that as a compliment."

"it is a compliment," he assured her, turning his head to face her. his cheek was slightly squished against his shoulder, making him look more like a sleepy puppy than a grown man. "i’m genuinely scared of what would happen to me if you weren’t around. i’d probably live off ramen and instant rice."

"you already do that when i’m not around. and still make it taste bad."

"exactly," he said, as if she had just proven his point. "my body is, like, seventy percent sodium at this point."

y/n rolled her eyes but couldn't help the small smile tugging at her lips. "that explains a lot, honestly."

jisung gasped dramatically. "are you saying i look like someone who eats too much sodium?"

"i’m saying your diet is concerning," she teased, finally setting her chopsticks down and leaning back as well. the food had settled warmly in her stomach, and the atmosphere felt hazy in the best way—soft, familiar, comfortable.

jisung groaned, letting his head fall back. "this is why i need you in my life. you balance out all my self-destructive tendencies."

y/n snorted, stretching out her legs. "i’m your best friend, not your dietitian."

"best friend and dietitian," he corrected lazily.

she hummed, letting the conversation drift into a natural lull. the tv played quietly in the background, an old sitcom neither of them was paying attention to, and their playlist continued to shuffle through songs they had both heard a thousand times before. outside, the city was alive, but in their small little bubble of a dorm, it felt like time had slowed down just for them.

jisung shifted, sitting up properly, and y/n could feel him staring before she even turned to look at him. "what?" she asked, raising a brow.

he hesitated, chewing on his bottom lip for a moment before finally saying, "i want you to be in my song."

the words were simple, casual even, but they made something in y/n’s chest tighten. she blinked. "what?"

"my demo," jisung clarified, his voice softer now, more careful. "i want you to sing in it."

yn let out a short laugh, shaking her head. "jisung, you know i don’t do that."

"why not?" he tilted his head, brows furrowing slightly. "you’re literally so good. like, so good."

she sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. "it’s just a hobby for me, you know that."

"okay, but why just a hobby?" his voice had that familiar edge of insistence, the same one he used when he really, really wanted something. "you could do so much more with it."

she shrugged, eyes flickering to the tv even though she wasn’t really watching. "it’s not the same for me as it is for you," she said honestly. "music is your thing, jisung. you breathe this stuff. it’s not like that for me."

"but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do it," he argued, leaning in slightly. "i love your voice, y/n. you know that."

she swallowed, feeling warmth crawl up her neck. he had told her that before—countless times, actually—but something about the way he said it now felt different, heavier. "it’s just not something i see myself doing seriously," she admitted, picking at a loose thread on her sleeve.

jisung was quiet for a moment, his eyes studying her face carefully. then, with a small, teasing smile, he said, "okay. but what if it’s just for me?"

she looked at him, confused. "what do you mean?"

"i mean," he started, tapping his fingers against his knee absentmindedly, "forget about, like, doing music professionally or whatever. i just want you on this song. not because i think you should be an artist or anything—just because it’s us. i dunno. i feel like it’d sound better if you were in it."

y/n bit her lip, uncertain. she liked singing, she always had, but she never really thought about it beyond the occasional harmonizing with jisung when he played guitar, or the times she mindlessly hummed while cooking. it was never something she considered putting out there for other people to hear.

jisung, however, was looking at her with those big, expectant eyes, his wide smile softened at the edges. "just think about it," he said, nudging her knee with his. "no pressure. but i think it’d be cool. i mean, imagine—our voices together in a song? legendary."

yn laughed, shaking her head. "you’re ridiculous."

"i’m right," he corrected.

she sighed, resting her chin on her palm. "i don’t know, ji."

he pouted, but there was no real disappointment in his face—just patience, quiet and steady. "i’ll send you the demo," he said after a beat. "just listen to it. see if you like it."

she nodded slowly. "fine. i’ll listen."

jisung grinned, victorious. "that’s all i ask."

another silence stretched between them, this one softer, almost charged in a way y/n couldn’t quite explain. the tv droned on in the background, but neither of them was paying attention.

jisung shifted again, stretching his legs out next to hers, their knees knocking slightly. he exhaled, tilting his head back against the couch. "i like nights like this," he murmured, his voice quieter now, almost like he was talking to himself.

yn turned to look at him, watching the way his lashes cast shadows on his cheekbones under the dim light. "like what?"

"just…chill." he cracked one eye open, looking at her. "you. me. food. music. no stress."

she smiled softly. "yeah. me too."

jisung hummed in acknowledgment, closing his eyes again. "we should do this more often."

y/n didn’t respond right away, letting the words settle between them. she thought about how much time they already spent together, how their days were filled with each other in some way or another.

and yet, something about the way he said it—like he wanted more, like he wasn’t just talking about casual hangouts but something deeper—made her stomach flutter in a way she didn’t entirely understand.

she swallowed, nudging his foot lightly with hers. "we already do this all the time, idiot."

jisung smiled, eyes still closed. "yeah. but i mean more."

y/n’s heart did something weird in her chest, but before she could dwell on it, jisung sat up suddenly, stretching his arms above his head. "anyway. we should clean around before the angry yunah gets back and starts lecturing us about leaving dishes out."

the moment was gone, dissipating like smoke, leaving yn slightly dazed in its wake.

she nodded, shaking off the strange warmth in her chest, pushing herself up as well.

"right. let’s clean up."

and just like that, the night continued, soft and slow, something unspoken lingering between them—unnoticed, or maybe just ignored.

. . .

the dishes had been washed, the leftovers tucked away, and the night stretched lazily ahead of them, the warm haze of comfort lingering in the air. the tv was still on, playing something neither of them was paying attention to, but y/n could feel the way the atmosphere had shifted—thicker, heavier, filled with something unsaid.

jisung sat on the floor again, back resting against the couch, his fingers absentmindedly drumming against his knee. now, his sleeves were pushed up to reveal his forearms, and his hair was messier now, some strands sticking out in different directions. he looked soft like this—less like the flirty, chaotic mess he usually was and more like the boy she had always known, the one who could say a million things with just a glance.

y/n sat across from him, legs crossed, arms draped over her knees as she studied him. she hesitated for a moment before saying, “play it for me.”

jisung blinked, caught off guard. “huh?”

“the song,” she clarified, shifting slightly. “i wanna hear it.”

he stared at her for a second before scoffing. “you never wanna hear my songs before they’re done.”

“um, wrong, you always reject to play them for me before they're done.” she pointed, trying to sound casual. “i feel like listening everytime. and tonight.”

“and my guitar is right here, so..” she laughed.

something flickered across jisung’s face—surprise, maybe, or something softer—but he didn’t question it. instead, he reached for her guitar, a brown one, which had burgundy, floral borders over its peaks and edges. it had been sitting next to the couch all night, like it had been waiting for the right moment.

he adjusted it on his lap, fingers finding the familiar curves of the wood, the smoothness of the strings beneath his touch. the way he handled just.. guitars had always fascinated her—not just with skill, but with love, like it was an extension of himself, a second voice that spoke when words weren’t enough.

y/n watched, her chin resting on her palm as she took in the tiny details she had seen a hundred times before but never really noticed—the way his brows furrowed in focus, the way his lips parted slightly as if he were already singing in his head, the way the warm light from the tv cast soft shadows across his face, accentuating the sharp line of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the fullness of his bottom lip.

he cleared his throat. “okay, but don’t judge, ‘cause it’s still rough.”

she rolled her eyes. “i never judge.”

he gave her a look, but it was softened by a small smile before he looked down at his guitar again. his fingers moved, the first chords filling the room—gentle, familiar, warm.

and then, he sang.

his voice was low at first, careful, like he was still unsure if he wanted to let her hear it. but as the melody flowed, he eased into it, his tone settling into that effortless, raspy sweetness that always made something deep in y/n’s chest ache.

she watched, completely entranced, as his eyes fluttered shut, lost in the song. the way his throat moved as he sang, the subtle shifts in his expression, the slight crease in his brow when he hit a note just right—it was all so undeniably han jisung, and it was beautiful.

she had heard him sing countless times before, but something about this was different. maybe because it was just the two of them, the world outside forgotten. or maybe because she was finally allowing herself to see him, really see him, in a way she hadn’t before.

his voice filled the room, smooth and raw all at once, laced with emotion that made her chest feel tight. and the lyrics—god, the lyrics.

it was soft, bittersweet, almost like a confession hidden within the melody. he sang about late nights and lingering glances, about feelings that hovered on the edge of something more, about someone who felt like home.

and y/n couldn’t help but wonder—who was it about?

her breath caught slightly as she watched him, taking in the way his lashes cast the faintest shadows on his cheeks, the way his fingers moved effortlessly over the strings, the way his lips curled slightly around certain words, like he meant them.

she felt something warm spread through her chest, something unfamiliar yet oddly comforting, like stepping into sunlight after days of rain.

when he finally strummed the last chord, the room settled into silence, save for the distant hum of the city outside.

jisung let out a breath, running a hand through his already messy hair. “so… what do you think?”

y/n was still staring. she realized it a second too late and quickly looked away, blinking. “it’s…” her voice felt stuck in her throat, so she cleared it, trying again. “it’s beautiful, ji.”

he smiled, looking down as if trying to hide how much her words affected him. “yeah?”

“yeah,” she said softly.

another silence settled between them, this one different from the ones before. it wasn’t awkward—it was thick, weighted with something neither of them dared to name.

jisung shifted slightly, leaning her guitar against the couch. his fingers tapped against his knee again, a nervous habit. “i meant what i said earlier.”

y/n tilted her head. “about what?”

“about you being in the song,” he said, his voice quieter now. “your voice would fit perfectly. you have this way of making things sound… real. i dunno how to explain it, but i think it’d be better if you were part of it.”

“i know you don’t take singing seriously, and you did say you'd listen to the actual demo.. oh which i know means a no, almost,” he cut in before she could refuse, “but just this once. just for this song.”

y/n exhaled, her fingers curling around the fabric of her sleeve. “why does it matter so much to you?”

jisung opened his mouth, then closed it, as if he was debating how honest he wanted to be.

finally, he shrugged. “because it’s us.”

her heart skipped.

“i mean, not us us,” he added quickly, looking away. “just… our voices. together. i think it’d be nice.”

y/n swallowed. “i don’t know if i’d be any good.”

“you would,” he said, no hesitation. “and i’d be with you the whole time. we’d do it together.”

together.

the word settled deep in her chest, warm and heavy.

she looked at him again, at the hopeful glint in his eyes, at the way he was watching her like she was something more than just his best friend.

and maybe, for the first time, she let herself wonder—what if she was?

she exhaled slowly, giving him a small, hesitant smile. “okay.”

jisung blinked. “okay?”

“i’ll do it,” she said, and his entire face lit up in that way it always did when he was really happy, the kind of smile that made her stomach flip in ways she didn’t fully understand.

“you won’t regret it,” he promised, excitement buzzing in his voice.

she wasn’t sure if that was true.

because something told her that once she sang with him, once their voices blended together in a song meant for something deeper—

there would be no going back.

and that terrified her more than anything.

. . .

sprawled out on jisung’s bed, surrounded by the soft hum of the laptop fan and the distant city sounds filtering through the window, y/n felt weightless. not in the way that meant floating away, but in the way that meant she was exactly where she was meant to be.

the air smelled faintly of fabric softener, of jisung’s vanilla-and-woodsy shampoo, of warmth. the blankets beneath them were slightly rumpled, evidence of a thousand previous sleepovers, tangled limbs, and late-night conversations that bled into early mornings. the glow from the laptop screen cast shifting patterns onto the walls, moving in time with the video they were watching.

it was their friend group’s latest dance cover, the kind they always hyped up in their group chat but never actually watched until they were together.

“look at hyunjin’s face,” jisung snickered, pointing at the screen as hyunjin executed a particularly dramatic spin, his expression intense. “bro thinks he’s in a movie.”

y/n burst into laughter, hiding her face in her hands. “no, because he so does that on purpose. you just know he was practicing in front of a mirror.”

“i bet he stared at himself for hours,” jisung agreed, shaking his head. “such a drama king.”

they continued watching, throwing in their own commentary as felix’s fluid movements took over the screen, followed by minho’s signature sharpness, yunah’s grace, and minseo’s precise footwork. their friends were insane, and as much as they teased, the admiration was real.

“minho-hyung’s on another level, though,” yn murmured, her head tilted slightly. “look at the way he controls his movements.”

jisung hummed in agreement. “yeah. he’s scary good.”

a comfortable silence settled between them, only the sound of the music playing through the laptop speakers filling the air. the bed dipped slightly where jisung had shifted, moving to lean on his elbow. yn could feel the shift in weight, the slight press of his arm against hers, the warmth of his body radiating closer than before.

she turned her head slightly—just a fraction—to look at him.

and that was when it happened.

something… shifted.

it was subtle, but it was undeniable. like a string pulled taut between them, an unspoken question hovering in the air.

jisung’s eyes were still on the screen, but his fingers had stopped absentmindedly tapping against the blanket. his jaw was relaxed, but his lips were slightly parted, like he had just thought of something he wasn’t sure if he wanted to say out loud.

the glow from the laptop flickered across his face, highlighting the curve of his cheek, the slope of his nose, the way his lashes cast delicate shadows against his skin. his hair, slightly messy from the way he had been lying down, fell softly over his forehead.

and then, as if he could feel her looking, his gaze flickered to hers.

it wasn’t immediate. it wasn’t rushed.

it was slow.

deliberate.

his eyes met hers, and for the first time in a long time, neither of them looked away.

the music in the background faded into something distant, something unimportant.

the flickering light, the sound of their breathing, the way the air seemed to press down on them—it all blended into something almost dreamlike.

jisung’s gaze dipped, just for a second, to her lips.

and y/n’s breath caught.

it wasn’t new, being this close. it wasn’t new, lying next to each other, watching something, talking about everything and nothing.

but this?

this was new.

this was different.

she could feel it in the way the space between them seemed to shrink, in the way her pulse thrummed in her ears, in the way jisung swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing slightly.

his hand twitched—just barely—against the blanket.

and then, before she could even fully process it, he moved.

slow. hesitant. but sure.

his fingers brushed against hers, a touch so light it could have been mistaken for an accident. but neither of them moved away.

yn exhaled shakily, her heart a wild drum in her chest.

and then, suddenly—

their lips met.

soft at first. just a press—a quiet, unsure thing that barely lasted a second.

but then she leaned in.

and he did too.

and it wasn’t just a kiss anymore. it was something more.

jisung’s lips were warm, careful, but there was a hunger beneath it, something restrained, something that had been waiting far too long to be acknowledged. his fingers found her wrist, featherlight at first before gripping just slightly, grounding himself.

her hands curled into the fabric of his tee, and he let out a quiet exhale against her lips, like he couldn’t believe this was happening.

the laptop screen continued playing, casting shifting lights across their skin. the blanket beneath them was soft, but nothing—nothing—felt softer than this. than him.

he pulled away first, just enough to breathe, just enough to look at her.

his eyes searched hers, as if trying to understand what this meant.

as if asking, did we just cross the line?

but the thing was—

maybe there had never been a line in the first place.

maybe they had been here all along, just waiting for the right moment to realize it.

their breaths tangled in the space between them, warm and unsteady, still trembling with something unspoken. the moment felt like it stretched infinitely—long enough for y/n to take in the way jisung’s eyes flickered, dark pools of hesitation and something deeper, something unreadable.

his fingers, still curled loosely around her wrist, twitched, but he didn’t pull away.

the glow from the laptop continued to flicker, painting soft golds and muted blues across his face, across the fabric of his tee, across the slightly uneven threads of the blanket beneath them.

she felt warm.

not just from the shared heat between them, but from something in her chest, something that felt like a slow burn, like a realization creeping up on her.

jisung exhaled, his lips parting slightly as if to say something, but then he stopped.

she blinked at him, suddenly aware of the way her heart was still hammering. loudly. so loudly she swore he could hear it.

“…we just,” she said, as if confirming it to herself.

“kissed.”

jisung let out a breathy chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “yeah. yeah, we did.”

silence. not awkward, but charged.

y/n wet her lips, suddenly hyper-aware of the lingering sensation of his against hers. soft. he was soft.

then, jisung groaned, burying his face into the pillow. “oh my god. did i just ruin us?”

she blinked, before laughing softly. “you’re literally so dramatic.”

“i am not,” he mumbled into the fabric, voice muffled.

“you are. like, so dramatic. like—oscar-worthy dramatic.”

jisung lifted his head just enough to glare at her, though the way his nose scrunched up made it less intimidating. “okay, miss i-just-kissed-my-best-friend-and-now-i’m-still-here-for-some-reason—why are you not freaking out?”

y/n tilted her head. “do you want me to freak out?”

“no?” his lips quirked. “maybe?” he groaned again, flopping onto his back, staring at the ceiling like it held all the answers. “i just—wow, okay, so we really did just kiss. that happened.”

she rolled onto her side, propping herself up on her elbow, her fingers playing with the loose threads of the blanket. “do you regret it?”

jisung turned his head to look at her, and for a moment, he didn’t answer. he just looked.

his gaze trailed over the shape of her nose, the way her cheek was still slightly flushed, the way her hair had fallen over her shoulder, a few strands resting against her collarbone.

then, he whispered, “no.”

her breath hitched.

jisung swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing slightly. “do you?”

a beat of silence.

“…no.”

another stretch of quiet, but this time, it was softer. like a shared secret, like something that no longer needed to be questioned.

then, jisung shifted, reaching up lazily, fingers brushing against the ends of her hair. “okay. so. now what?”

she huffed a small laugh, flopping back onto the pillows beside him. “i have no idea.”

“that makes two of us.”

they both stared at the ceiling for a long moment, the sound of the laptop’s fan whirring quietly in the background.

then—

jisung turned his head toward her again, watching the way her lips pursed slightly in thought, the way her fingers absentmindedly traced shapes onto the blanket.

slowly, carefully, he reached out, resting a hand against her arm. “can we—just. stay like this? for a bit?”

she turned toward him, eyes softening. then, instead of answering, she simply curled closer, letting herself nestle into his side, the fabric of his tee brushing against her cheek.

jisung let out a slow breath, his arm naturally slipping around her, his fingers resting against the dip of her waist.

she was warm.

he could feel her heartbeat, steady against his ribs, in sync with his own.

the scent of her shampoo filled his senses—something sweet, something vaguely floral, something hers.

the sound of their breathing intertwined with the faint music still playing from the laptop, a mix of their favorite songs.

jisung sighed, letting his cheek rest against the crown of her head. “you’re kinda dangerous, you know?”

yn hummed sleepily. “oh? why’s that?”

“because i don’t think i’ll ever want to sleep without you now.”

she smiled against his chest, eyes fluttering closed. “good thing i’m not going anywhere, then.”

and for the first time that night, jisung felt like maybe—just maybe—things had fallen into place exactly the way they were always meant to.

mastertag ୨୧ @cosmicalily @hyunjiiza @modesttiger @woozarts @katsukis1wife @bddaramjis @reignessance @peskybirdysya @honeyybbuubblleess @ellemir2404 @4ng3l-ch1ld @urlocalmultigroupfan

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emmaxdelicate · 1 month ago

Text

THE GREAT WAR | op81 x reader

summary: you and oscar fight about the growing distance between you two

pairings: oscar piastri x fem!girlfriend!reader

warnings: angst, swearing, use of y/n (2 times only), intentional lowercase (lmk if i missed any!)

word count: 1.4k

a/n: i felt so bad writing this idk why😭, i already have a part 2 in my drafts lmao

masterlist

rain came in sheets of water, a downpour. it had been this way for days now: gray skies, unending clouds, heaviness that settled upon your chest like a lead weight.

you stood in the kitchen of yours and Oscar's shared apartment , staring blankly at the half-filled mug of tea on the counter. the liquid had long since gone cold, untouched in the chaos of the evening. you could hear Oscar moving in the living room; his footsteps quick and agitated, not as usual, each step was a subtle reminder of the distance that had grown between you.

the fight had started hours ago, even thought "fight" felt like the wrong term. it wasn't just one argument, not really. it was more of a culmination of days and weeks, months, even, of little fractures, cracks in the foundation of the house you had built together. and now, you weren't so sure if the pieces could be put back together.

you gatered some bravery and walked to the living room. Oscar was sitting on the couch, his head in his hands and his hair slightly disheveled, you stood at the door.

"so what? you think i don't care?" Oscar's voice cut suddenly, sharp and defensive. it wasn't the first time he'd asked the question tonight.

you watched him, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. "that's not what i said."

"it's what you're implying tho," he shot back, his tone cutting. he rarely talked like this with anyone, let alone with you. this wasn't the oscar you spent days cuddling with, the one who whispered reassecurations in your ear each time something was wrong.

you sighed, running a hand through your hair. "i'm not insinuating anything, oscar. i'm telling you how I feel. and how I feel is—forgotten."

his expression shifted, a flicker of guilt crossing his face before it was replaced by frustration. "forgotten? that's ridiculous, y/n. do you have any idea how much i think about you? how much i care about you?"

"thinking about me is not the same as being here, oscar," you said, your voice trembling despite your best attempts at keeping it even. "you're always somewhere else, with the team, on the track, doing interviews. and i get it, okay? i really do know how much your career means to you, and that's amazing. but when was the last time you really saw me? when was the last time we had a conversation that didn't revolve around your schedule or your next race?"

oscar winced with your words; his jaw flexed. "that's not fair."

"isn't it?"

the question just hung in the air, heavy and unanswered. oscar slumped slightly into himself, his frustration giving way to something more subdued. "i'm doing my best," he said quietly.

your laugh was bitter, like a knife across the silence. "your best? oscar, your best is killing me." you took a step closer to him.

he recoiled as if you had hit him, his eyes wide with hurt. for a moment, you almost thought he might walk away-that he might turn around and leave the room, leave you standing there with your heart in pieces. but he stayed, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, like he was trying to keep himself from falling apart.

"what do you want me to do?" he asked finally, his voice strained. "tell me, because i don't know anymore. i'm trying to balance everything-my career, my life, you. i'm trying so hard. but it feels like no matter what i do, it's never enough."

"you never call me when you're away, only text me to tell me stupid shit instead of checking up on me. i can't be the only one doing that"

you felt the well of tears in your eyes, but you blinked them away, refusing to let them fall. "i don't need you to be perfect, oscar. i just need you to be here. to show me that i matter, that we matter." you sat next to him.

"you do matter," he said, facing you, his voice breaking on the words. "more than anything."

"then why don't I feel it?

the question came out a whisper, but it was enough to shatter whatever fragile truce had existed between you. oscar turned away, raking a hand through his hair as he let out a frustrated sigh.

"i don't know," he admitted, his back to you. "i don't know how to make you feel it. i thought i was doing everything right, but clearly i'm not."

you took a shaking breath, hands trembling at your sides. "it's not about you being right, Oscar-it's about us, about what we're losing."

he turned back to you then, his face open and raw. "i don't want to lose you," he whispered.

"neither do i,"you told him. "then fight for me," you shot back, voice breaking. "because I'm tired of being the only one fighting."

the words hung in the air, a challenge, and for one second you thought oscar might rise to it. but instead, he looked away, his shoulders sagging under everything that was left unsaid.

"i don't know if i can," he finally said, barely in a whisper.

that was your final blow. it was a punch in the gut, knocking the wind from your lungs. you stared at him, heart breaking all over again, feeling for the first time the full weight of what this fight had cost you.

"then what are we doing, oscar?" you asked, voice shaking, a tear falling from your eye. "if you can't fight for this-for us-then what's the point?

he didn't say anything, and the silence that followed was deafening.

you looked away, hands grasping onto the edges of the couch. outside, the rain again picked up, its sound a harsh backdrop to the chaos inside your head.

"i think i need some air," you said finally, your voice barely above your breath.

oscar looked at you, his face contorting with something almost like panic. "y/n, wait-"

but you were already in motion, snatching your coat from the chair beside the door and out into the rain, wich was heavier than you expected. maybe it was the wrong choice, going out there and leaving oscar alone. or maybe the wrong choice was even trying to confront him in the first place. maybe you should've just dropped him. cold drops pelted your skin, soaking through your clothes in seconds, but you didn't care. the storm inside was far worse.

you walked aimlessly, your feet carrying you down the empty street without any real direction. your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, each one louder than the last.

how did you two wnd up like this? how had the love you once shared, the kind of love that felt undestructibl, turn into something so uncertain?

you remembered how oscar used to look at you, as if you were the center of his universe; you remembered your deep talks late at night, stolen kisses, and quiet times that made you believe you could go thru any storm as long as he was by your side.

but now, you thought of the missed calls, lonely nights, and the growing distance between you two. and no matter how much you tried, it was difficult to remove that feeling.

you didn't know how long you had walked around the neighborhood, but by the time you made your way back to the house, the rain had soaked through every layer of clothes. your hair was drenched and plastered to your face, and your fingers were numb from the cold.

oscar had been waiting for you when you walked through the door, watching as you came inside. he was sitting on the couch, still in the same position from before, looking up at you with a mix of relief and concern in his eyes.

"you're soaked," he said, quick to his feet to help you.

"i'm fine," you said dismissively, pushing past him toward the stairs.

"wait," he said, catching your wrist gently. "please, don't just walk away."

you turned to him, red-rimmed and tired, and said, "i don't know what else to do, Oscar."

his grip on your wrist tightened somewhat, his eyes pleading. "stay. talk to me. let's figure this out. please."

"we've been talking all night," you said, "and i still don't know where we stand."

He looked like he wanted to protest, but his hand fell instead to his side, slumping his shoulders in defeat.

"i love you," he whispered. "but i don't know if that's enough anymore."

it felt like someone had stabbed you in the chest, and for that moment, you weren't able to breathe. you looked at him, your heart breaking all over again, before you turned and went upstairs without saying another word.

you closed the door behind you and pressed your back against the wood. the tears came then, silent, without oscar to wipe them away, and you let them fall, your heart heavy with the weight of everything you'd brobably lost.

and for the first time ever, you weren't so sure if you and oscar would make it through.

521 notes · View notes

its-avalon-08 · 3 months ago

Note

Idk if your doing requests but if so could I request something where reader and Lando have been together like since they where 19 or something but a long time, and they have a fight that over something stupid but it escalates and Lando snaps frustrated and says maybe they need a brake and tells her to leave. She is heartbroken, and when Lando tries to get in contact with her, she won't answer, worrying Lando as she ignores his calls clearly. Then, Lando freaking out, thinking it's over and the one person in his life that he loved more than anything is gone. Carlos coming over to get some of readers things but Lando is heartbroken more at that, and when the reader comes back to the apartment after no contact for a week, she packs her clothes, but Lando panics and starts apologising. Happy ending, please, though. Sorry if it's long.

cracks in forever (ln4)

✦ pairing - lando norris x female!reader

✦ genre - angst, tears, comfort, break up

The night felt colder than usual, and the warmth of their shared home seemed suffocating. Y/N stood in the kitchen, the soft hum of the refrigerator the only sound as she waited for Lando to come home. He was late again—hours this time—with no texts, no calls.

When the front door finally opened, she didn’t rush to greet him. Instead, she stayed rooted in place, her arms crossed as he walked in, his jacket slung over his shoulder, looking more frustrated than apologetic.

“You’re late,” she said flatly, her voice strained.

He glanced at her, his brows furrowing. “Yeah, I know. The day ran long.”

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

Lando sighed, dropping his bag by the door. “What do you want me to say, Y/N? I’m sorry. Happy?”

Her jaw tightened, her chest already aching from the weight of the argument that hadn’t even begun. “You didn’t even think to call me, did you? Or text? I’ve been sitting here for hours, wondering if you were okay, and you couldn’t even bother to let me know?”

His frustration flared. “I didn’t realize I needed to check in like a teenager. I’m fine, obviously. You could’ve just assumed that.”

Her eyes widened, the sting of his words hitting hard. “Do you even hear yourself? You think it’s too much to let me know you’re not lying in a ditch somewhere? God, Lando, it’s not about checking in—it’s about respect!”

“Respect?” he shot back, his voice rising. “I’ve been busting my ass all day trying to juggle everything, and you’re standing here acting like I don’t care about you because I forgot to text? Give me a break, Y/N.”

Her lip quivered, but she forced herself to stand tall. “This isn’t just about today. You’ve been distant for weeks. I feel like I’m screaming into a void, trying to hold us together, and you’re not even trying anymore!”

“Maybe because I’m tired of feeling like I’m failing all the time!” Lando snapped, his voice louder now, his hands gesturing wildly. “Nothing I do is ever good enough for you!”

Tears filled her eyes, spilling over as her voice cracked. “Don’t you dare turn this on me. You think I like feeling like I’m begging for scraps of your attention? You think I like crying myself to sleep because I don’t know if you even want me around anymore?”

Lando froze for a moment, her words piercing through his anger. But instead of softening, he doubled down, his own frustration clouding his judgment. “What do you want me to say, Y/N? That I’m perfect? That I have all the answers? Because I don’t! Maybe—” He stopped, clenching his fists. “Maybe we just need a break. Maybe that’s what we need to figure this out.”

Her breath caught, the words cutting her like a knife. “A break?” she whispered, her voice trembling. “You want me to leave?”

“I don’t know, okay?” he shouted, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “Maybe we just need space. I can’t do this anymore—this constant fighting, this pressure.”

Her shoulders shook as she tried to steady herself, but the tears wouldn’t stop. She wiped at her cheeks, her voice breaking. “You know what? Fine. If I’m such a burden to you, I’ll go. I’ll make it easier for you.”

“Y/N, that’s not—”

“No,” she cut him off, her voice rising with the hurt that burned in her chest. “You don’t get to say things like that and take them back. You don’t get to hurt me like this and then act like it’s nothing. I’ve been here, Lando. I’ve been here for you. Through everything. And now you’re telling me I’m too much for you?”

Her words hit him like a freight train, but his pride kept him silent. He didn’t know how to fix it, didn’t know what to say.

She shook her head, tears still streaming down her face. “You want space? Fine. Have it.”

Y/N stormed past him, grabbing her keys and bag. Lando turned, his heart sinking as she reached the door.

“Y/N, wait—”

But she didn’t. She slammed the door behind her, leaving him standing alone in the silence of their home.

The regret hit him almost immediately, but by the time he picked up his phone to call her, she was already gone.

Title: Cracks in Forever

Lando barely slept that night. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her face—tear-streaked, devastated, and broken. He replayed the argument over and over, his words echoing in his mind like a cruel reminder of his failure.

“Maybe we just need a break.”

How could he have said that? How could he have pushed her away when she was the only constant in his life?

His phone sat on the coffee table, the screen lighting up with unanswered texts he had sent throughout the night. He had called her twenty-seven times—each one going to voicemail.

By morning, the bags under his eyes were heavy, his chest aching as if he’d been physically hit. He stared at his phone, scrolling through their old messages. He read her texts from the last few weeks, the ones he had brushed off or responded to half-heartedly.

Y/N: Good luck today! Call me after, okay? ❤️ Y/N: Hey, are you alright? You seemed off earlier. I’m here if you need to talk. Y/N: I miss you, Lando.

He clenched his jaw, tears blurring his vision. He had been so blind, so caught up in everything else that he hadn’t realized how much she had been hurting.

He hit her contact again, pressing the phone to his ear.

Ring… ring…

“Hey, it’s Y/N. Leave a message.”

The beep sounded, and his voice cracked as he spoke. “Y/N, please. Just… please call me back. I know I messed up, okay? I know I hurt you. But I can’t— I can’t do this without you. I need to know you’re safe. Just… let me know you’re okay. Please.”

He ended the call, his hands shaking as he set the phone down.

By the second day, his panic had reached a breaking point. She hadn’t been to their place, hadn’t responded to any of his messages, and her social media was silent. He sat on the edge of their bed—the bed that still smelled faintly of her perfume—and buried his face in his hands.

The phone rang in his hand, but it wasn’t her. It was Max.

“Mate, are you okay?” Max’s voice was cautious.

“No, I’m not okay!” Lando snapped, his voice breaking. “She’s not answering, Max. She’s not answering, and I don’t know where she is, and I don’t know if she’s okay.”

“Have you tried her friends? Her family?”

“I don’t want to drag them into this,” Lando said, wiping at his face. “This is my fault. I need to fix it.”

“You can’t fix anything if you break yourself in the process,” Max said gently. “Just give her time.”

“I don’t have time, Max!” Lando shouted. “What if she thinks I don’t love her? What if she thinks I meant it when I said we needed a break?”

“Didn’t you?”

The question made him pause, his breath hitching. “No. God, no. I was angry. I was frustrated. I didn’t mean any of it.”

“Then tell her that. Keep trying. She loves you, Lando.”

Lando nodded even though Max couldn’t see him. “She did. I don’t know if she does anymore.”

That night was worse than the first. Lando sat on the couch, his head in his hands, the silence of their apartment a cruel reminder of what he had lost. He picked up his phone and called her again.

Ring… ring… beep.

“Y/N,” he choked out, his voice shaking. “Please. Please pick up. I’m losing my mind over here. I don’t know where you are, and I’m scared. I’m scared I’ve lost you, and I can’t—” His voice broke, a sob escaping him. “I can’t lose you. I love you. I love you so much. I don’t care about the fight, I don’t care about anything but you. Just… just come home. Or call me. Please, Y/N. I’m begging you.”

He hung up, his shoulders shaking as he buried his face in his hands. For the first time in years, Lando Norris cried. He cried for the girl who had been by his side since they were teenagers, the girl he had built a life with, the girl he had pushed away.

And he cried for the possibility that he might never hear her voice again.

The doorbell rang, and Lando’s heart skipped a beat, though he couldn’t explain why. He wasn’t expecting anyone. It was too early for anyone to check in on him.

But when he opened the door, there stood Carlos Sainz, a look of concern etched on his face. His eyes softened when he saw Lando, but there was a quiet tension in his posture.

“Carlos…” Lando started, his voice hoarse from the sleepless nights.

Carlos looked at him, his jaw tightening. “I’m here to grab some of Y/N’s things.”

Lando stepped back, letting Carlos in. His apartment felt emptier than it ever had before, each room echoing with the absence of Y/N’s warmth. Carlos entered, his gaze scanning the space, lingering on the couch where they had spent so many nights together, the kitchen counter where they’d cooked meals, the small details that once made the place feel like a home.

“You’re really going through with this, huh?” Carlos asked quietly, his voice laced with disappointment.

Lando swallowed hard, his eyes avoiding Carlos’s. He had never wanted it to come to this. He never thought it would. But now, standing here in the emptiness of the apartment, the reality of the situation hit him harder than ever.

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” Lando muttered, his hands shaking. “I didn’t mean to push her away, Carlos. But she… she wouldn’t talk to me. She just… she left. She hasn’t even answered my calls.”

Carlos shook his head, his face hardening with frustration. “You don’t get it, do you, Lando?”

Lando looked up, surprised by the venom in Carlos’s tone. “What do you mean?”

“She’s my childhood friend, man,” Carlos snapped, his voice rising. “I’ve known her since we were kids. I’ve seen her go through everything, and I’ve watched her give you everything, and you—you—treated her like this? Like she’s disposable?”

Lando’s chest tightened at the accusation, but Carlos wasn’t done.

“I’ve seen the way she looks at you, how much she cares for you,” Carlos continued, his voice breaking as he ran a hand through his hair. “And you—you—just pushed her away like she was nothing. Like she wasn’t the person who was always there for you, who stuck by your side through everything, through all your races, all your highs and lows.”

Lando’s heart sank. He could feel the weight of Carlos’s words sinking deep into him. He knew he had screwed up, but hearing it like this—coming from someone who knew Y/N like Carlos did—made him realize just how badly he had messed up.

“I didn’t mean for her to think she wasn’t enough,” Lando whispered, his voice barely audible. “I love her. I always have. I just… I don’t know what happened. I was frustrated, and I said things I didn’t mean. I didn’t want to hurt her, Carlos. I swear to you.”

Carlos’s gaze softened, but his disappointment was still evident. He sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping. “You hurt her, Lando. And now, you have to fix it. But she’s not just going to come back because you say sorry. You’re going to have to fight for her. And honestly, I don’t know if you’re ready to do that.”

Lando looked down at the floor, tears welling up in his eyes as the guilt hit him full force. He knew Carlos was right.

Carlos reached for the duffel bag by the door, picking it up and unzipping it. “I’m just getting her stuff. I told her I’d bring it by. But you…” He paused, looking Lando in the eye, his voice quiet but firm. “You need to think long and hard about what you want. And if you want her back, you need to prove it. Because right now? You don’t deserve her. Not after what you did.”

Lando felt his heart crack at the truth in Carlos’s words, and his voice trembled as he whispered, “I know.”

Carlos hesitated for a moment, then turned and grabbed a few of Y/N’s things from the shelf, placing them into the bag. He looked back at Lando one last time before heading for the door.

“You’ll figure it out, mate,” Carlos said quietly, his voice softer now. “But you’d better start trying, and fast. She won’t wait forever.”

Lando nodded, unable to say anything. He was already too choked up, the weight of the past few days crashing down on him.

Carlos walked out the door, leaving Lando standing there, broken and alone.

Lando stared at the door for a long time after Carlos left, his thoughts swirling, the pain of losing Y/N gnawing at him from the inside out. He needed her. He couldn’t live without her. But the real question was—would she still want him when he finally realized just how much she meant to him?

And how could he prove to her that he was worthy of a second chance?

It had been a week since she left. A week of silence. A week of empty calls and unanswered messages. A week of Lando spiraling, his world without her a place he didn’t recognize anymore.

Now, here he was—sitting on the couch, waiting. He knew she would come back at some point. Y/N never stayed away for too long. But the anxiety had eaten away at him, each passing day a reminder of how badly he had screwed up.

The door opened, and he could hear the soft click of her heels on the hardwood floor. His heart skipped a beat, but when he looked up, his breath hitched in his throat.

Y/N was standing there, her back straight, her face expressionless. In her hands was a suitcase—half-filled.

She was packing.

“Y/N…” Lando’s voice broke as he stood up. His chest was tight, his hands trembling slightly. “What… what are you doing?”

Y/N didn’t answer. She simply moved past him and into their bedroom, not sparing him a glance. Lando’s stomach twisted.

“Please, Y/N,” he pleaded, his voice cracking. He followed her to the bedroom, his eyes not leaving her. “Please, don’t do this. We can fix this. We can talk.”

She didn’t respond, not even a flicker of acknowledgment. It was like he wasn’t even there.

Lando stood by the door, frozen. He watched as Y/N picked up clothes from their closet and threw them into the suitcase without a single word. Each piece she grabbed felt like another piece of his heart being ripped away, like she was disappearing right before his eyes.

“Y/N, please… talk to me.” His voice shook with desperation, but she still said nothing.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he stepped closer, his chest tightening with the fear that she was really going to leave.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I know I hurt you. I know I was a mess. I should’ve been better. I should have been better for you. I shouldn’t have said those things, and I shouldn’t have pushed you away. I was angry, and I didn’t know how to handle it, but I swear to you… I swear I love you. I always have. And I need you. Please, please don’t leave me.”

Y/N didn’t stop packing. She moved mechanically, and the silence between them felt suffocating.

“I was scared,” Lando continued, his voice growing quieter, more raw. “I was scared that I wasn’t enough for you. That one day, you’d realize you deserve someone better than me. And I pushed you away because I didn’t know how to let you in. But I do love you. I do. And I’ll do anything to prove it to you. Anything.”

She picked up another piece of clothing, folding it with such precision that it made Lando’s heart shatter.

“No, no, no…” Lando whispered, panic rising in his chest. “Please, Y/N. Don’t do this. Please, I can’t lose you. I know I’ve been an idiot. I know I hurt you. But you are my heart, and I can’t let you walk out of that door without knowing how much I need you. Without you, I’m nothing.”

He was shaking now, the weight of his words settling into the pit of his stomach. His voice was barely above a whisper, thick with emotion.

“I can’t breathe without you,” he choked out, his eyes glossy with tears. “I’ve been waking up every day wondering how I could have been so stupid, so selfish. But all I know is that I love you. I need you. And I don’t want to spend another day without you in my life. So, please… please don’t leave me. I’ll fix it. I’ll do whatever it takes to make it right. Just… don’t walk out that door. Please, don’t leave me alone.”

The words hung in the air, and for a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of her folding clothes and his heavy breathing.

Finally, Y/N stopped moving. She didn’t turn to face him, but her shoulders trembled, and Lando could feel the weight of the silence press against him.

“I know you’re angry,” Lando continued softly, his voice breaking. “And I understand that. But I can’t lose you. I can’t lose the one person who knows me better than anyone. The one person who loves me no matter what. You’ve been my constant, Y/N. And I don’t deserve you, but I’ll do everything to show you that I want to be better. For you. I’ll be better, just… don’t leave.”

There was a long silence. Then, almost imperceptibly, Y/N set down the last piece of clothing in the suitcase and turned to face him. Her eyes were glossy, but she said nothing.

Lando took a step closer, his heart pounding in his chest. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything I’ve done. But I can’t imagine my life without you. You’ve always been my best friend. You’ve always been there for me. I don’t deserve you, but please… please don’t walk away. I need you more than anything.”

And that was when Y/N finally broke.

A single tear slid down her cheek as she looked up at him, her eyes full of so much pain that it shattered him.

“You hurt me, Lando,” she whispered, her voice small but raw. “You hurt me so badly. I don’t know if I can just forget that. I don’t know if I can go back to what we were. But I…” She choked on the words. “I love you, too. I just… I don’t know if I can trust you again.”

Lando’s breath hitched. He couldn’t lose her. He couldn’t.

“I swear, I’ll never hurt you again,” he promised, his voice full of sincerity. “Please… let me show you. Let me prove it to you.”

Y/N wiped her eyes, still unsure, but there was something in Lando’s eyes that made her pause. Something raw. Something that made her think—maybe this wasn’t the end.

“I don’t know if I can just forget what happened,” Y/N said, her voice shaky. “But I do want to try again. I want to believe you, Lando. I want to believe that we can fix this.”

Lando’s heart soared as he rushed to her side, pulling her into a tight embrace.

“I swear, I’ll spend every single day proving it to you,” he whispered into her hair, his tears falling freely now. “I’ll make it right. I’ll never take you for granted again. I love you, Y/N. I love you so much.”

And for the first time in days, she let herself breathe. She hugged him back, the warmth of their embrace a promise that maybe—just maybe—they could get through this together.

It wasn’t perfect. But they had each other. And that was all that mattered.

It had been a few days since everything had fallen into place. Y/N and Lando were slowly rebuilding their bond, piece by piece, and while the tension between them had melted, something was still different. The scars of the fight remained, but Y/N wasn’t thinking about it anymore. The past was behind them. She was focused on the present.

But Lando? Lando still couldn’t shake the feeling that any moment, she might walk out again. It wasn’t that Y/N had given him a reason to doubt her, but the guilt gnawed at him constantly. He had hurt her so deeply, and no matter how many times she reassured him, the fear lingered. What if one day, she grew tired of him? What if he wasn’t enough for her?

Tonight was supposed to be just another quiet night in. Lando had arranged a cozy dinner, hoping to make her smile, to show her how much he loved her. He’d gone all out, buying a fancy dress he thought she’d look amazing in. Maybe, just maybe, if he gave her something beautiful, he could make up for the ugliness of the past.

When Y/N walked into their living room, he was holding the dress in his hands, eyes brimming with hope.

“Lando,” she smiled softly, as she entered, sensing the warmth in the air. “What’s this?”

“Just—just something for you,” he said, a little shy, as he handed her the dress. “I know it’s a bit much, but I thought… well, you’d look incredible in it.”

Y/N laughed, though there was something oddly sweet and bittersweet in her eyes. She looked up at him, still feeling the remnants of their past conversation, yet no longer letting it weigh on her.

She took the dress from his hands and examined it, grinning at the fabric.

“You really don’t have to do this,” she said, her tone playful but tender. “I’m happy just being here with you.”

Lando felt his heart race. He wanted to keep proving himself, to show her how sorry he was. But deep down, his insecurities kept churning. What if this wasn’t enough? What if it wasn’t going to be enough?

Y/N noticed the flicker of unease in his eyes. She stepped closer, putting the dress down on the couch.

“Lando…” she began, her voice soft but firm. “You don’t need to keep doing this. You don’t need to keep going all out just to make me happy. You don’t need to prove anything.”

Lando froze, the words hanging in the air, yet it felt like the ground had been ripped out from under him.

“But I want to,” he said quietly, as though trying to explain the reason behind his actions, his voice trembling. “I need to make it up to you, Y/N. You deserve so much better than how I treated you.” His voice cracked with emotion. “I don’t know how to fix it. But I need to make it right.”

Y/N’s heart ached, seeing how much he was carrying. She stepped forward, reaching for his hand, but his nerves kept him at arm's length.

“Lando, I’ve already forgiven you. I don’t need grand gestures or endless apologies. I just need you,” she said, her voice steady and full of love. “I want you. Just the way you are.”

Lando looked up, but the pain and doubt still clouded his eyes. He shook his head, feeling as though he could never do enough to atone for the way he had hurt her.

“No, I don’t deserve you,” Lando whispered, his voice barely above a sob. “I’ve been an idiot. I hurt you, and I don’t know how to forgive myself. Every time I see you, I feel like I’m not enough. That one day, you’ll leave. And I—”

Before he could finish, Y/N launched herself into his arms. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and she buried her face into his neck.

“Stop,” she whispered softly, her hands gently brushing his hair. “You’re my baby, Lando. I’m not going anywhere. I love you. Don’t you see that?”

Lando froze for a moment, his whole body tensing as her words hit him like a wave. Her voice was so tender, so sure, that it broke through the wall of self-doubt he had built around himself. He didn’t know why he had been so scared.

“I need you to stop thinking I’m going to leave,” she continued, her voice firm and comforting at the same time. “You’re my home. You always have been. I’m not going anywhere, Lando. I love you so much, it hurts. So, please, stop trying so hard.”

Lando’s heart melted in her arms as he clung to her, desperate to make sense of everything he had been feeling. “But I hurt you, Y/N. I hurt you so badly. I didn’t know how to fix it.”

Y/N tilted his face to look at her, her fingers gently wiping away his tears. “We’re fixing it, Lando. We’re here. Together.” Her voice softened even further. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re my world. You’ve always been. And nothing’s going to change that.”

Lando’s breath hitched as he buried his face in her hair, holding her tighter, like if he let go for even a second, she might disappear again.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered against her skin, the words a soft plea in the air. “I promise, I’ll do better. I’ll be better for you. I swear.”

Y/N laughed, the sound like music to his ears, and pulled back just enough to look into his eyes. “You don’t have to be perfect, Lando. You just need to be you. And that’s more than enough for me.”

Lando looked at her with a mixture of love and relief in his eyes, finally feeling like he could breathe again.

She smiled, her hands cupping his face gently. “You’re mine, Lando. Forever. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I love you so much. I’m so sorry for ever making you doubt that.”

Y/N kissed him softly, then pulled back just a little, her smile soft and content. “I love you, too, Lando. Always.”

And for the first time in days, Lando believed it. He believed in them. He believed in her. And as he held her close, he finally let go of the fear that had gripped him for so long. She wasn’t leaving. They were in this together.

Forever.

479 notes · View notes

angelbarelywrites · 11 months ago

Text

♡ slashers scenarios | you’re almost a victim..

♡ fandoms; Halloween, Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2006), Black Christmas, Dead by Daylight, slashers (general)

♡ characters; Micheal Myers, Thomas Hewitt, Billy Lenz

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡ cw; very suggestive content

♡ note; i wasn’t sure how to word the title/concept of this one?? but essentially you’re almost a victim, but you’re a little to okay with it/something they do and it throws them off?? idk just read ‘em

also only 3 little meow meows in this one, i wrote most of this on break at work uwu

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

Micheal Myers

> he’s been stalking you for months

> in his mind you’re the perfect victim

> clueless to his presence, adorable and vulnerable

> he’s drawing it out as long as he can

> but he’s practically twitching the night you come out onto your porch in your tight pajama shorts, relaxing with some tea

> he’s got you pinned to the wall before you can even scream

> he wants to savor this, so he keeps his knife tucked away and has a massive hand around your throat

> he doesn’t miss your breath catching

> and he takes a moment to watch your chest heaving, your cheeks all flushed

> but he’s not that easily impressed. could be the lighting. maybe you’re quick to panic.

> “…you’ve been watching me.”

> you knew?

> you knew, and you still played his game

> interesting. very interesting.

Thomas Hewitt

> Tommy boy is already giving you special treatment

> something is different about you

> he’s not sure what, you’re pretty, but he kills plenty of pretty people

> maybe something about the way you look up at him through your lashes?

> and you’re terrified now, but you weren’t scared of the initial sight of him..

> he doesn’t put you on a meat hook, instead rigging you somewhat kindly, your hands chained above your head but your bound feet on the ground

> whatever he decides on, he knows that you’re special. you deserve to be honored.

> he takes extra care in examining you, feeling you shiver as he grazes your exposed stomach - a side affect of your position, but a welcome sight

> he roughly grabs your face and pushes it left and right, pausing to rub your cheek with his thumb

> you would be a pretty face to wear

> he shoves two fingers into your mouth as he’s mentally measuring

> and he practically startles at the noise you make

> he’s never heard a sound like come from a victim- especially not his victims

> when he pushes a bit and you whimper around his fingers it confirms his suspicions. you’d given a choked moan at the initial intrusion

> he stares down at you, breathing heavily through his mask

> oh you were very special

Billy Lenz

> you were renting a spare room in the sorority house

> while you were good friends with the girls, you valued your alone time

> you quickly became Billy’s favorite to watch, mostly because you were always home

> when he calls he always tries to time it so you pick up

> but usually the girls downstairs still answer- you’re never expecting calls so why bother?

> this evening however, he’s lucky- there’s an on campus event and you’re home completely alone

> you answer on the second ring and he’s delighted, immediately babbling profanities and filthy threats

> “gonna fuck that pretty piggy c—“

> to his surprise you giggle at him

> not a nervous sound, but genuine giggling

> before he can snap, or really even process you laughing at him, you stop him

> “yknow if you want phone sex, you can just ask nicely mister”

> he hangs up in a panic

> that was certainly the last thing he expected

> but now he’s beyond fixated on you

> he barely sleeps just to peep through your wall

> and it’s just about time he paid you a real visit

#thomas hewitt #slashers #dead by daylight #thomas hewitt x reader #slashers x y/n #slashers x you #slashers headcanons #tcm 2006 #tcm #black christmas #billy lenz x reader #billy lenz #micheal myers x reader #micheal myers #halloween #g/n reader #gender neutral reader #slashers x reader

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boowritess · 11 months ago

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bonus part 2

simon can't cook-

okay no he CAN. okay? but it's very much- chop up whatever the fuck is in the fridge throw it in a pot, add as much meat he can find. then he's sorted. creating some sort of stew. but if not that. he thrives off 2 minute noodles.

listen, he's a working man. he can't be fucked thinking about what to make.

and if he needs to eat while not deployed and wants something, he'll get takeaways so he doesn't have to think about it.

and if ya'll are together - whatever you make... motherfucker eats that shit up like he's in a 5-star fucking reasturant.

you made scrambled eggs with bacon??? he's astounded. absolutely in love. has never been more satisfied in his life.

but oh lord. when he retires..

retired!simon fucking riley finds his fucking calling in cooking.

you no longer have to worry about cooking. nah-uh. not with this man who has all the time in the world to hone in on this new culinary world.

idk i just think it's so cute to think about simon going from beans on toast for breakfast to fluffy buttermilk pancakes or french toast with bacon a berry compote.

then for dinner; it's suddenly a whole line of sushi with all your favourites, dumplings to follow and a beef udon recipe dish. or maybe it's a simple roast - however, a perfectly seasoned meat has been sitting for a while in the oven for so long that when you cut into it, it's juicy and tender. and simon fucking beams at the faces you make.

dessert is a whole other game that simon fucking mastered. seriously. because he's placing down a skillet brownie, topped with ice cream and cream. And when you put a spoon into it, it fucking drips with chocolate ya'll.

just rahhhh retired!simon that turns into chef!simon. who just spoils you day and night with food. who gains the ability to make whatever dish you want, whenever you want. 3am and you want a grilled cheese? he can whip it up in seconds and it'll taste like the most gourmet grilled cheese you have EVER had.

btw, i'm torn between making him a gordon ramsay in the kitchen or him being the complete opposite and being so sweet and patient with you when you want to help him.

WAIT- speaks like gordon ramsay but treats you softly. like, you're not cutting with the knife correctly you fucking donkey. but instead of taking it off you, he presses up behind you, gently cups your hands with his and shows you how to do it safely. and he's speaking so sweetly and softly. a stark contrast to when he called you a fucking donkey - but hey you'll get your bite back. ;)

a/n: i can't fucking breathe this was so funny to write. i'm sorry idk why he called u a donkey. i'm fucking hungry if it wasn't obvious with this post.

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meowgumi10 · 1 month ago

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“Not so loud princess”

Princess reader x thief sukuna

Royal au

CW: smut, name calling/pet names (slut,honey), weapons mention, tiny bit of knife play, virgin reader, porn with a plot

I’m not the most amazing at writing smut and idk how to use punctuation (also this is not edited) but enjoy!

Sukuna a well renowned thief in the criminal world,he had gotten a high level job: to steal some royal jewels. He was used to high level jobs but he had never attempted to steal from the royal palace itself, though it should be very interesting.

You, the princess had just gotten into bed after a long night of dancing and chatting with many other debutants and Noblemen. You sigh as you settle into your soft bed, your eyes fluttering closed as you drift off

Sukuna had calculated perfectly how to steal some jewels and be out of there without being noticed. He was going to sneak into the princess’s bedroom and keep her quiet with a knife as he took a few necklaces and earrings, maybe even a tiara if he’s lucky. He snuck past guards and maids doing some overnight work. He slowly opened your window,seeing your sleeping form and smirked to himself thinking this would be easy. His crimson eyes scanning the large room as he stepped into it, despite his very large frame he was as quiet as a mouse.

His well adjusted eyes looked through your various drawers and stands full of jewellery.He finally saw some earrings with giant Diamonds in the centre, just as he picked them up he was hit in the head with something heavy; he hit the floor and grabbed the back of his head “fuck” he groaned as he looked at what hit him. You stood over him in your cute little cotton night gown,a pure gold candle holder in your hands as you stood in an attacking stance “What are you doing here scum?!” You say trying to hide the shake in your voice. Sukuna almost laughed at the sight in front of him “relax princess, I’m not here to hurt you” he says getting up, he towered over you but you didn’t waver your stance or determination, “you’re not the dainty little thing people describe” he chuckles and steps closer “shut up! Answer your princess, what do you want?” You say slightly lowering your ‘weapon’. He scans over your form “just here for a few trinkets, you have so much you wouldn’t mind if I took one or two right?” He said pulling the large dagger out of his thigh garter. You lower the candle holder and step back “okay take some…just don’t kill me” you mumble in defeat.

He stepped closer and dragged the blunt edge of the blade along your collar bone, the feeling the cold metal against your exposed skin made you shiver “I won’t kill you princess” he whispers, you whimper softly “please don’t hurt me” you mumble; he chuckles and retracts the dagger, he turns and grabs a few pieces of jewellery before stuffing them in a pouch, he turns to leave but you stop him. “Is that it?” You ask, he looks over his shoulder at you “what do you mean? You wanted me to hurt you or something?” He says with an eyebrow raised, “no…it’s just, you have the princess here in nothing but a nightgown and you’re just going to leave?”

He grinned and turned around fully “I didn’t know her royal highness was a slut” he chuckles and walks closer, he was so massive. You swallow and look up at him, your nipples were poking through the thin cotton of your nightdress, it outlined your hips perfectly “besides…you couldn’t handle me princess” he smirks. You blush softly “you’re an ass” you mumble; he suddenly grabs your face in his large veiny hand causing you to gasp softly “what was that princess? You should speak up” he says leaning down, his breath fanning on your lips. You bite your lip soft and look up at him, his tattoos were attractive to say the least and his piercing red eyes made you feel naked. “N-nothing” you mumble.

He pulled his dagger out again and hooked the tip of it under a button of the top of your night gown “maybe I should take extra payment…this is a dangerous job you know?” He says popping the button off. Your chest rises and falls with your heavy breaths, you don’t reply and just watch the blade that’s so close to your skin, yet you’re not scared… your pussy is throbbing in a way you’ve never felt before. “Do you even know what sex is princess?” He chuckles, you blush deeply “yes!…it’s how you make babies” you say shyly, he chuckles again and pops the second button, getting a clearer view of your breasts.

You let your nightgown slip off your shoulders and pool at your feet, your panty-clad body on display for him. He tucks the dagger away and sets his hands on your hips, walking you back onto your bed “will you be gentle?” You whisper, “Mm…fine” he mumble and starts to unbutton his shirt. His muscular and tattoo filled torso revealed to you, he looked like a Greek god, your breath became even heavier and your chest rose and fell even quicker. Your eyes trail down to the pink path of hair that disappeared into his pants. “See something you like, your highness?” He says lowly with a boyish smirk in his face, your hands reach out to tentatively unbuckle his belt, he chuckles again “quite the eager little thing aren’t you?” He says helping you take his pants off. In one swift motion you pull his pants and boxers down together, your jaw almost drops when you see the size of his cock.

It seemed about 8 inches and quite thick, it was veiny and the tip was bright red, his cock stood tall and proud as it dripped with pre cum “do i turn you on that much?” You ask as you look up at him. “Hm…give it a taste honey” he says, you look back down at his cock and give his fat tip a kitten lick. He groans and puts his large hand on your head “that’s a good girl” he praises.his pre cum tasted a salty but for some reason you liked,you wrap your lips around the head and suck softly, your tongue swirling around it. He groaned and cursed under his breath, watching how your lips wrapped around him, it was so erotic;Before he got carried away he pulled your head away “lay back princess” he orders. You lay back on your bed and let your legs fall open, he can see the outline of your gushing pussy perfectly through the thin fabric or your cotton panties, “what the people say is right…you are fucking perfect” he mutters and runs his thumbs along your clothed slit making you moan softly. He peels your panties off to reveal your beautiful pussy, your clit hard and twitching, your virgin entrance practically calling his name.

He kneels down and buries his face between your legs, making you gasp out a moan, your hand instinctively going to hold his head as he licked between your folds. “Fucking delicious” he growls against your pussy, you let your head fall back as your fingers tangled in his hair, he sucked on your clit and lapped up your juices hungrily. You gasp and moan,never having felt like this when you slipped your fingers into your panties at night.He slipped a thick finger into your tight hole, your inner walls clenching around his finger “Virgin pussy is always the best” he murmurs, the sound vibrating onto your pussy. He started to pump his finger and in and out of your tight hole as he kissed and licked your clit, his large hand pinned you down by your pelvis to stop you from squirming, but it’s only made the pleasure more intense. Your moans and whines filled the room, you couldn’t even care about anyone hearing you, this man who’s name you didn’t even know was making you feel like you had discovered Pandora’s box and opened it.

He added another finger and starting scissoring your pussy open, twisting his fingers as he pumped them in and out, his tongue never stopped moving on your clit. You looked down at him with hazy eyes as he devoured you “so good- hah!~” you manage to get out, he smirks against your pussy and looks up at you “sukuna” he mutters against your clit. He pulls his fingers out and licks them clean “don’t be too loud” he says as he strokes himself, you’re still panting and feel like everything is moving so fast “s-sukuna?…” you whisper as you look up at him with lustful eyes, “yes ,princess?” “Will it hurt?” He would almost believe you were an innocent young girl if you hadn’t been the one to seduce him in the first place. He spread your pussy lips and looked at your hole “yeah…but the good kinda pain” he says. You swallow nervously and take a moment to really scan his face “you’re quite handsome, sukuna” you say softly, he looks at you as he keeps stroking himself “why thank you princess…you’re not so bad yourself” he smirks.

You didn’t know what it was about him, his voice? His tattoo? That scar that didn’t scare you as much as it should’ve? Perhaps it how he spoke, the soft purr in his deep voice that made your heart skip a beat? Either way you knew one thing, this criminal shouldn’t be near you, let alone be defiling you in such a manner.

He set one of his knees onto the bed, the other planted on the floor to brace him as he lined himself with your entrance, his dark red eyes looked into yours as he slowly pressed his tip into your small entrance. You gasp and whimpered, your hands immediately going to grip his bulging biceps, “relax” he whispered again your shoulder. He pressed kisses along your shoulder, that were surprisingly soft, he growled as he continued to push in; your tight walls squeezing him like a vice, he wasn’t sure if it was the thrill of fucking the princess or if you were just that perfect but he had never felt this good. He pushed in, inch by inch, he kissed you to stop you from crying out and whimpering so loudly; his tongue invading your mouth and not leaving a spot untouched as he claimed you fully. Your back arched off the bed and your nails dug into his skin as he bottomed out with a grunt, he left opened mouth kisses down your throat and along your collar bone as he allowed you to adjust to his size “if you fit into my pouch, princess,I’d steal you away right now” he whispers against your skin. “Sukuna…this is” you could barely finish a sentence, your whole body was feeling things it had never felt before, he ever so slowly started thrusting in and out, “oh…oh god!” Your nails left crescent shaped marks on his biceps. he started moving faster, his massive cock stretching you out impossibly “ah! Sukuna~!”, he put his hand over your mouth “shh…Not to loud princess”. Your loud moans and cries were muffled but the loud squelching of your pussy being pounded into was not, the sound of skin against skin filled the room, his climax was building up quickly and so was yours.

Your eyes started to roll back as he pounded in and out of you, “fuck…look at me princess, look at this scum of a man as he ruins your pretty pussy” he moans, nipping your ear, your breath was hot against his palm and your nails were almost making his back bleed as you clawed at his skin. His other hand reached down to rub your clit, your legs started to shiver at all this new stimulation, your pussy spasmed around him. You felt like your head was spinning, you looked up at him and moved his hand from your mouth, yanking him down for a kiss once more. You never felt anyone’s touch, anyone’s comfort but this? You hoped he’d sneak in and rob you every night if that’s what it took; the way your tongues tangled, how your bodies moved against each other it was addictive.

You were so close, so so close to gushing all over him. You break the kiss desperately, before you can speak he cuts you off “let go…cum for me” and just like magic you do just that. You bit down on his shoulder and creamed all over his cock that was still pounding into you, the way your walls squeezed around him threw him over the edge. He pulled out and came on your stomach like a gentleman. You were panting and whimpering softly as you laid back on your bed, your hair a mess and a thin sheen of sweat over your body, he’d never seen a more beautiful sight “that…that was so amazing” you whisper to him “it was” he whispers back and wipes his cum of your stomach with a tissue.

You sit up a little as you watch him get dressed “ what will you do with my jewels?” You ask curiously, he glances at you as he buttons up his shirt “I give them to my handler, he gives me a nice big payment and I get called for more jobs, that means more money” he says, “so…you’ll come back?” You ask hopeful, he chuckles “sure princess, just don’t tell on me alright?” He smirks; before you’re able to answer he disappears into the night.

You flopped back onto your bed and try to process what just happened, hoping he would keep his word and really come back.

#sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #jjk ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #sukuna ryomen smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk #sukuna #jujustsu kaisen x reader

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hrts4hanniehae · 1 year ago

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seventeen and how they would react if idol!you were brutally attacked on stage by an antifan

PAIRING. seventeen (ot13) x idol!reader GENRE. angst-fluff, established relationship, scenario imagines WARNINGS. blood, stabbing, violence, crying, nightmares, shock, anger WORD COUNT. 1369 words

my last work for the next 3 weeks because i'm on holiday! may still post if i find time though!!

choi seungcheol

the epitome of pure fury. when he sees the clip, he is just pure mad.

not only because you got injured, but also because you didn’t tell him and he had to find out through a video that jeonghan sent him

he would watch the video and get the shock of his life when he sees the concealed blade graze the side of your neck as you dodge the lunge.

would not care if he had a full schedule, he would go to find you in the hospital.

when he sees you in the hospital bed with bandages around your neck, he would be too concerned to get mad that you didn’t tell him.

“I didn’t want you to worry.”

“We’re dating, I should be worrying about you. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t?”

yoon jeonghan

your manager immediately called him once the concealed blade was pulled out of your leg.

as we’ve seen with his reactions to sasaengs, he would be VERY agitated and constantly (with no filter) criticise anti-fans on lives

he would also show up to the hospital as soon as he could with your favourite snacks, hiding you from view as you eat them despite him not being allowed to bring food in.

would help you walk everywhere and baby you.

joshua hong

he would be silently in distress at the fact that you were bleeding so much.

he was watching the live stream of your performance with the rest of Seventeen when it happened.

he watched in horror as the blade sliced your shoulder and the security team tackled the assailant.

the cut was deep and bleeding profusely onto your white outfit, staining it red. (if you want it to seem badass just imagine ur song is something something bleeding hearts idk)

he would drop everything and video call you as soon as you’re out of danger.

he looks so heartbroken when he sees the stitches on your arm

wen junhui

there is no doubt in me that he wouldn’t immediately be rushing to your side, even if your relationship hadn’t been announced.

he was at your concert that day because he had free time and you wanted him there.

when he saw the anti-fan climbing onto the stage he immediately knew that something was wrong and began making his way towards you

when he saw the blood splatter and you fall onto your knees, his heart dropped.

once they pulled the knife out of your stomach and you got the surgery needed, he fought with your managers to give you a long hiatus with him.

he wouldn’t let you go out alone after that and he would bring you to meet his parents in China to rest and heal

kwon soonyoung

he would lose it when he sees the clip that Seokmin sends to him. The blood flowing down your head from the rock thrown at you sends him into a panic.

his panic increases when you don’t pick up your phone.

when you finally call him, he picks up immediately to ask how you are. It doesn’t help that your concert is in a different country.

he would not be his usual lively self for a while (until he knows you’re 100% okay and that the culprit was caught)

jeon wonwoo

he expected some level of anger from fans after you both announced your relationship, but not to this extent.

when your manager calls him to tell him you were in the ER due to a knife attack, he would be in shock. You both had just spoken that morning before your concert, how could you be in the ER less than 3 hours later?

with no regard for anything he had to do that day, he would rush to the hospital to be by your side.

after you’re out of surgery, he would announce his hiatus and pressure your manager to put you on hiatus too. He would then spend a few months just taking care of you and spending quality time together.

he would also 100% make sure the culprit is punished very severely.

lee jihoon

this man would quite literally lose it.

he was on Weverse live when he received the call, and his soul left his body. He immediately ended his live before going to the hospital.

he would caress your cheek where the cut was and reassure you that you were still beautiful and hold you in his arms if you cried out of fear.

after that, he would call out every anti-fan and sasaeng in his lives.

“If there’s anything below lowlife, that’s you.”

xu minghao

he would be furious, especially when he hears what the fan said before she scratched you across the arm. “XU MINGHAO IS MINE!”

no more fan service, no more boyfriend-type pictures, no more aegyo. Your safety is 100 times more important to him than anything.

he would also release a statement.

“Hurting my s/o is like hurting me. If you harbour the same grievances as this assailant, I will tell you this now. I will never harbour any interest in you, or anyone else for that matter. My s/o, y/n, if the only one in my eyes. You have failed as Carats and don’t deserve to be called fans of Seventeen.”

kim mingyu

despite his fear of confronting crazy fans/anti-fans, he would not hesitate to publicly shame your attacker at every chance he gets.

when he first saw all the blood, he was panicked. When he saw that the attacker had punched you in the nose, he became very mad.

if he finds out it was because of him that the anti-fan attacked you, he would be very apologetic and upset with himself. He would never forgive himself if you got hurt because of him.

you would both go on hiatus for a month.

lee seokmin

he went to your concert as a surprise for you that he and your manager had planned.

when he saw the fan slash at you, his heart dropped and shattered.

the pure fear in his eyes, when he saw your mangled skin, was something you never wanted to remember.

the whole way to the hospital, he was silently crying, yet seething with anger. His touch was gentle as he stroked your hair, trying to divert your attention away from the pain.

boo seungkwan

he couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw you dodge the knife.

the cut on your shoulder was huge and he almost fainted.

he would be there at the hospital, comforting you through the stitches even though he could barely bear it.

he would also go off on the security team to understand how an anti-fan with a knife got past them and onto the stage.

during your month of hiatus, he would be there to comfort you.

vernon chwe

the hurt in his eyes when he saw the article was apparent to the other members of Seventeen, who immediately helped him to get to you.

when he sees the bandages around your lower torso, his heart breaks.

he knows that the smile you give when you say you’re okay is fake and he just embraces you when you finally break down in sobs.

however long you need to go on hiatus, he’s there as much as he can and he makes sure that you know that you’re loved so very much.

lee chan

he wouldn’t know what to do when he sees you get stabbed on live TV.

the blood splatters on the camera lens in front of you making him flinch.

after sitting in shock for a while, he gets up in a hurry, getting Mingyu to drive him to you.

he waits (hehe wait. sorry.) outside the A&E for you, fearing the worst. How could he live without you? You were his first love and he wished his last.

when the doctors finally tell him you’re okay, he collapses in relief and with Mingyu’s help, he makes his way to see you.

he wouldn’t leave your side even if he had a schedule to do, and sometimes he’d have recurring nightmares of you being stabbed

when you go on hiatus, he follows.

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gf2bellamy · 18 days ago

Note

early seasons spence has me in a chokehold so i kinda have a request for you idk if it makes sense but yeah anyway (please dont tell me its obvious im a yapper ill cry)

ANYWHO

secret relationship au im imagining, earlyseasons!spencer x genderneutral/fem!bau!user (doesnt bother me but im trying to be considerate, im a girl but it really doesnt matter)

basically im thinking like the reader gets kidnapped on a case and spence is FREAKING OUT like lack of sleep, pacing constantly and being really set on finding the unsub freaking out.. and when he finally finds the reader in their state hes like that mix of relieved and absolutely appalled at the readers condition (im imagining all beaten and bloody and stuff idk how graphic you wanna make it). hes all ditsy when hes untying their binds and carrying them out of the place since hes so scared for them. the rest of the thing is kinda hotch calmly telling the reader how freaked out spence was and then im thinking like them comforting spencer afterwards and saying all the ‘its not your fault’ and ‘im okay now’ and its so fluffy it rots all our teeth (but i guess it would also be angst) IDK IF IT MAKES ANY SENSE IMSORRY

anyway remember to drink water and take care of yourself

call me some random emoji cause ill probably be here a bunch

- 🐚

captured — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: reader having bruises, reader being tied up, mention of having a terrible headache, a/n: thank you so so much for your request and your request makes perfect sense don't worry !! i loved the idea and i'm looking forward to your next requests 🐚 <3<3<3 i hope i did your request justice !!!

Spencer didn’t know where you were. No one did. That thought pounded through his skull, looping endlessly as he nursed what had to be his fifth coffee of the day. He hadn’t slept—not even a minute—and the caffeine barely registered.

The coffee tasted like ash, bitter and lifeless. Not that it mattered. All it was doing was keeping him on his feet long enough to find you.

He should have seen this coming. He should have known the unsub would target you. You fit the profile perfectly—he had pored over the details a hundred times, retracing every step the team had made.

And yet, when it mattered most, Spencer had let his guard down.

And now you were gone. Missing. Maybe worse.

The thought sent a fresh wave of nausea rolling through him. His guilt was unbearable.

But it wasn’t just guilt, wasn’t just worry for a teammate.

It was something deeper, something he wasn’t allowed to show, not in a room full of profilers.

Because this wasn’t just about an agent being taken.

This was about you.

The person he had been secretly slipping away with after hours and the person whose hand he had held in the darkness when no one was looking.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

He should have stopped you. You should have never been the one to go on that stakeout alone, even if it was routine. Even if you’d assured him you’d be fine. The memory of your casual smile as you walked out the door stabbed at him like a knife.

“It’s just for a few hours, Spence,” you’d said with that soft lilt in your voice, the one you used when you were trying to put him at ease. The one that undid him every time.

He’d smiled back, pretending to believe you, but his stomach had tightened even then. He should have insisted on going with you.

And now—God, now—he didn’t know if he would ever hear that voice again.

It was a small mistake—one that was tearing him apart.

He hadn’t even realized he’d been gripping the edge of the desk until his knuckles turned white. He forced himself to let go, staring blankly at the case file in front of him. It was no use. He’d already memorized every detail, every piece of evidence. Nothing had led them to you yet.

But it would. It had to.

Spencer rubbed his eyes, exhaustion clawing at him. His entire body screamed for rest, but the idea of closing his eyes—even for a moment—felt impossible. His mind was too full of you.

The burning in his eyes was unbearable, but the ache in his chest was worse.

Everyone on the team was worried about you—how could they not be? But they were also worried about him. And they had every reason to be.

They thought his reaction was because the two of you were close, because he was the type to carry the weight of every case like a personal failure. But it was more than that.

He wasn’t just losing an agent. He was losing you.

He swallowed hard, his grip tightening around the desk once more.

He stared at the evidence board in front of him, the faces of the victims haunting him as he tried to force his brain into profiling mode. But every time he looked at their photos, all he could see was you.

Your smile. Your eyes. The way you looked at him.

His chest tightened painfully, and he dug his fingers into the desk again.He needed to focus.

“Reid.”Hotch’s voice broke through his frantic thoughts.

Spencer’s head snapped toward the doorway where Hotch stood, his expression unreadable as always. “We’ve got a lead,” he said, stepping inside.“Where?” Spencer asked.

“An abandoned warehouse on 14th and Grant,” Hotch replied evenly, though the concern in his eyes was clear.

Spencer turned back to the board, his mind racing as he analyzed the new information. Within seconds, he made the connection. The location fit the unsub’s pattern, his profile—it was possible.

It was enough.

Spencer shot to his feet without another word, practically bolting out the door. The rest of the team exchanged quick glances before following him.

He didn’t care if he looked reckless. He didn’t care if they saw how desperate he was. He had wasted enough time already.

Derek barely had time to react before Spencer climbed into the passenger seat, his breathing uneven.

Derek glanced at him, concern flickering across his face as he started the engine. “Reid—”

“Just drive,” Spencer snapped.

Derek didn’t argue. He knew better.

The SUV tore through the streets, Derek driving faster than protocol allowed. But he didn’t care. He knew Spencer would bite his head off if he slowed down, and frankly, he couldn’t blame him.

Spencer’s knee bounced restlessly as his eyes darted to the GPS screen, counting down the seconds until they arrived.

The second the car came to a stop in front of the warehouse, Spencer threw open the door and bolted.

“Reid, wait!” Derek’s voice rang out behind him, but it was no use.

Spencer didn’t slow down. He couldn’t.

His pulse roared in his ears as he burst into the building, gun raised, breath ragged. His rational mind screamed at him to slow down, to wait for backup, to clear the scene carefully—standard protocol.

But protocol didn’t matter right now.

The dim lighting inside cast long, eerie shadows along the walls. The air was thick with dust and something metallic—rust, maybe blood. His stomach turned at the thought.

His grip on his gun tightened as he moved swiftly, his heart hammering against his ribs.

Room after room, door after door—empty.

Panic coiled in his chest, squeezing tighter with each dead end. His mind flashed with worst-case scenarios.

He shoved them down. He couldn’t think like that.

Then, he reached the last door.

Spencer barely took a breath before forcing it open, gun at the ready.

And then—

His stomach dropped.

There you were.

His voice cracked as he called out your name, his heart pounding in his chest. He rushed toward you, his gun immediately lowering as he took in your state.

His stomach twisted at the sight of you—unconscious, slumped forward, your wrists tightly bound to the arms of the chair. The dim lighting highlighted the bruises and cuts on your face, the sight of them sending a jolt of raw panic through him. For a brief, gut-wrenching moment, Spencer feared the worst.

He knelt beside you, his hands trembling as they moved to your neck. His fingers pressed gently against your pulse point, but for what felt like an eternity, there was nothing.

His mind raced. Was this it? Was this how it ended?

Then—

There it was.

A faint, steady beat beneath his fingertips.

Relief crashed over him like a tidal wave, and for the first time in what felt like hours, Spencer’s lungs finally let him take a full breath. He leaned forward, forehead nearly touching yours as he whispered shakily, “Thank God. You’re okay. You’re okay.”

His hands moved to your face, cupping it gently as he tilted your head up to get a better look at you.

When your face came into full view, his breath hitched.

Bruises marred your cheekbone and temple, a thin line of dried blood trailing down from your hairline. Spencer’s heart clenched so tightly he thought it might break. He bit his lip, trying to keep it together, trying to maintain some semblance of control

One single tear slipped down his cheek as he softly brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch as gentle as if he were handling glass.

“I’m here,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’m here.”

“Morgan!” Spencer’s voice cracked, raw with emotion, as he yelled.

Seconds later, Derek burst into the room, gun in hand, his face hard and alert. “Reid, I just cleared the—” But the moment his eyes landed on you, his words died in his throat.

Derek cursed under his breath, his gaze shifting between you and Spencer, before asking about your condition, his concern palpable as he rushed to Spencer’s side, holstering his gun.

“Alive,” Spencer barely managed to choke out the word, his voice trembling. “Pulse is steady, but we need to get out of here.”

Morgan nodded, his jaw tightening as he quickly pulled out his knife to cut through the ropes binding your wrists.

Spencer’s hands were already on you, one cradling the back of your head, the other resting gently on your arm. His thumb stroked soothing circles on your skin.

The motion was familiar, a small gesture he used to comfort you when you were restless after nightmares, when he needed to remind you—remind himself—that you were safe.

He hoped it would work now, that somehow, it would bring you back to him.

Morgan worked quickly, slicing through the restraints. As soon as your wrists were free, Spencer carefully pulled you into his arms, holding you close against him.

His breath hitched as he whispered your name, lips near your ear. “It’s me. You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

Your body felt so limp against him. He could barely feel his own limbs—his exhaustion was a distant thing compared to the need to keep you safe.

Derek’s voice broke through his daze, placing a hand on Spencer’s shoulder. “Let’s move.”

Spencer nodded. As he moved, one arm tightening protectively around you.

As they made their way outside, the sunlight hit Spencer’s face, but he barely noticed.

All he could focus on was you—the bruises and cuts that were on your skin, the way your body felt too light in his arms. His heart clenched at the thought of how much pain you must have endured, how much suffering had been thrust upon you, all because of the job.

He had promised you that he would protect you, that he would keep you safe. And now, he felt like he had failed you.

Two hours later, after one heated argument with the paramedics, Spencer had insisted on riding in the ambulance with you. He had refused to let you be alone, not for a second.

Now, you were lying in a sterile hospital bed, an IV drip hooked up to you, the soft beeping of machines a constant reminder that you were still here—still alive.

Spencer, on the other hand, was slumped in an uncomfortable plastic chair. His body contorted in a way that he knew he would regret later, but he didn’t care. His legs were stretched out, but his back was hunched, his neck bent at an awkward angle.

You slowly opened your eyes, blinking as the bright overhead lights made everything blur. The room was unfamiliar—hospital white with the sharp scent of antiseptic lingering in the air.

The pain hit you almost immediately—sharp and unwelcome—making its way through your head and down your body. You winced, biting your lip to hold back the whimper that threatened to escape.

The pain was intense, but it was nothing compared to the weight of everything that had happened.

The fear, the physical pain, the overwhelming sense of helplessness, it all crashed down on you like a tidal wave. But beneath it all, something else made itself known. The hum of machines, the soft beeping of your pulse, the sterile scent of the hospital room.

You slowly became aware that you were no longer in that dark, cold room, bound and at the mercy of the unsub. You were safe now.

And with that realization came relief.

You weren’t dead. You hadn’t been forgotten or abandoned. The unsub hadn’t fulfilled his plan.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and before you could stop them, they began to fall. You lifted your hand to your face, wiping them away quickly, but more kept coming. You couldn’t stop them.

Your eyes scanned the room, and that’s when you saw him.

Spencer.

He was there, slumped in the chair beside your bed. His exhaustion was unmistakable. His hair was messier than usual, not gelled back.

You sat there quietly observing the boy you had come to love so much.

Suddenly, the door to the room opened, and you turned your head to see Hotch step in. His usual stern expression softened when his eyes met yours, and for the briefest of moments, you could see the relief in his gaze.

“Hi, Hotch,” you mumbled weakly, offering a small, tired smile.

Hotch stepped further into the room, taking in your condition. "How are you doing?" His voice was softer than usual, an underlying concern lacing his words as he slowly closed the door behind him.

"My head is killing me," you replied, your voice hoarse, barely above a whisper. Your hand instinctively went to your temple, massaging it gently, but it did little to alleviate the pain.

Hotch nodded understandingly. He glanced at Spencer briefly, noting the way he hadn’t moved a muscle.

Hotch’s eyes lingered on Spencer for a moment longer than necessary, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he knew more than he was letting on.

It wouldn’t surprise you; Hotch was perceptive in ways no one else was, and your relationship with Spencer hadn’t exactly been subtle all the time.

He cleared his throat before speaking again. "We got him," Hotch said. "The unsub... he's in custody."

You closed your eyes for a moment, letting out a shaky breath. The news felt like a balm to your soul.

You’d been terrified that the danger hadn’t truly passed, that the man who had done this to you would still be out there, free to hurt others. But now, you could finally breathe.

He was behind bars, where he belonged.

"Thank you," you whispered, your body finally relaxing a little, your tension ebbing away with the knowledge that the man behind your nightmare was locked away.

Hotch’s gaze softened, though his face remained stoic as always. “He was worried sick,” Hotch said, nodding toward Spencer. “He didn’t sleep. He was looking for you the entire time.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest, your breath catching as you shifted your gaze from Hotch back to Spencer.

You could see the toll the search had taken on him. You fought the urge to reach for him, to run your fingers through his hair and wake him up just so you could see his face, to remind yourself that he was real, that he was here.

The face that had been your lifeline during the long days of captivity. It was that face, the one you’d thought of in the darkest moments, that had kept you sane.

Hotch seemed to notice the way your gaze lingered on Spencer, and for a moment, his usually unreadable face softened.

He didn’t say anything, but you could tell that he knew.

Spencer stirred slightly in his sleep, making a soft sound as he shifted. His body tensed before relaxing, the quiet movements of someone who was waking from exhaustion.

Hotch glanced down at Spencer, then back at you.He gave your arm a gentle squeeze—one that was light enough to not cause you any pain—and you looked at him.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Hotch said quietly. He gave you a small nod before stepping back.“Thanks, Hotch,” you mumbled, your voice still weak, but filled with genuine gratitude.

The door clicked softly behind him.As if on cue, Spencer slowly opened his eyes, blinking a few times as the light seemed to hurt him.

His eyes immediately locked onto yours, and in that instant, you saw everything—the relief, the exhaustion, the quiet joy of seeing you alive.

“You’re awake,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath, as if he didn’t quite believe it himself.

His eyes searched your face, his expression tightening as he took in every little detail.

Spencer never liked to admit his feelings. He never said the words, but you felt them in the way his eyes lingered on you, in the way he never once left your side.

You knew what was hidden beneath the surface, even if the world didn’t.

"Hi," you mumbled back, trying to offer him a small, weak smile. The effort was exhausting, but you didn’t want him to see just how badly you were hurting.

As you shifted to sit up a bit, the sharp pain in your head and limbs made itself known, and you couldn’t stop the soft groan that slipped from your lips.

Without a second thought, Spencer stood up from his seat, stepping closer to your bed, but he didn’t reach for you immediately.

"How are you feeling?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper, cracking slightly. His eyes scanned over you—lingering on the bruises and cuts that were on your skin.

His breath caught in his throat as his gaze flickered from the fresh marks on your body to your face, and for a split second, it seemed like he couldn’t look at you without some part of him breaking.

"I’ll be fine," you said, your voice strained as you did your best to sound convincing, but the words didn’t do much to reassure him.

You could see it in the way he flinched, his hand immediately running through his hair—trying to distract himself from how visibly shaken he was by the sight of you in pain.

Spencer Reid, who always had an answer for everything, who always had control, was falling apart.

He leaned forward slightly, as if wanting to touch you but unsure if he should.

“Spence,” you whispered, your voice quiet but filled with reassurance. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

But Spencer’s gaze remained on you, his body tense, and his hands flexed, still not knowing where to go. His lips parted again, as though to say something, but it came out only as a soft breath.

His fingers hovered near your arm but didn’t touch.

It was like he was afraid of hurting you more. You could see the guilt gnawing at him. It was written all over his face.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, his voice barely audible. “I should’ve been there. I should’ve—" His words faltered, and he cut himself off.

"Spence," you said slowly, your voice soft but insistent. You reached out and grabbed his hand, your fingers curling around his gently.

His grip tightened around your hand, but it felt shaky. The words suddenly spilled out.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve known. I should’ve known you could be in danger and I—” His voice cracked, and the rest of the sentence died in his throat. His breath hitched, and it was clear he was trying to hold back tears.

But they came anyway, pooling in his eyes, spilling over and leaving tracks down his pale face.

Your heart clenched at the sight of him—this was the man who had stayed by your side, refused to leave even when his mind told him he couldn’t handle it anymore.

The man who, despite everything, was still so gentle with you, so protective, and yet, here he was, blaming himself for things beyond his control.

"Spencer, stop," you said softly, your voice full of concern for him “Please, stop.”

His eyes remained downcast, his shoulders slumped in defeat. "I should have," he murmured under his breath, barely loud enough for you to catch.

His voice trembled, breaking on the words. "I should’ve been more careful. I should’ve made sure you were safe. You're hurt... you're in the hospital because of me."

Your heart broke all over again. He always did this to himself, carried the weight of everyone else’s pain as if it were his own.

"No, no," you whispered urgently, doing your best to push through the lingering pain in your head as you squeezed his hand tighter.

The effort sent a sharp pulse through your skull, but you forced yourself to focus, to hold on to him. "Spence, it wasn’t your fault. Don't ever think that," you said firmly, your voice filled with all the care and strength you had left.

"Listen to me," you continued, the words coming from the depths of your soul. "You did everything you could. You were there. You found me. You're the reason I'm alive, Spencer. If anyone should be sorry, it’s the man who did this to me, not you." Your words were soft.

Spencer’s breath hitched again, his face contorting. He looked at you like you were the only thing keeping him together.

You took a slow, steady breath, forcing yourself to speak through the exhaustion. "You’re not the reason I’m here, Spence," you said, your voice full of the truth you wished he could feel deep inside himself. "You’re the reason I’m going to be okay. You always are."

Your words seemed to reach him, just enough to keep him from falling apart completely.

"Promise me something," you said, your voice soft but unwavering. "Promise me you’ll stop blaming yourself. It’s not on you. It never was."

He nodded slowly, his hand tightening around yours in return.

“I promise,” he whispered, though it felt like he was still trying to convince himself more than anyone else.

"Come here," you said softly.

Without a second thought, Spencer leaned forward, his body folding into yours as he gently buried his face in the crook of your neck, his arms sliding around you with a tenderness that made your heart ache.

His breath hitched as he adjusted, trying his best not to press too hard, too recklessly, worried about hurting you. His arms tightened around you, pulling you closer as though he couldn’t bear to let go.

When he finally pulled back, there was a small smile on his face that wasn’t there before.

You smiled gently, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from his face, your fingers lingering on his skin.

"I’m okay," you whispered, your voice tender, just for him. "I’m really okay, Spence."

He leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, lingering for just a second longer than usual, before pulling back with a contented sigh. "I’m so glad you’re here" he murmured.

You squeezed his hand tightly, smiling at him.

He pulled the chair closer to your bed, never letting go of your hand, settling into it with a deep breath. He was still physically exhausted, emotionally drained, but he didn’t care.

All that mattered was that you were here.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x you #spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds angst

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mindless-existence1 · 24 days ago

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Shadow x fem or gn reader thats sonic’s sibling but they don’t mention it until they get together, how would Shadow and Sonic react? Thought this idea was funny (oneshot)

Idk if ur requests are open, but take your time !

I didn't realize I finished this so I was scrolling through my writing app and found it finished and girl I was shocked. Sorry it's gone so long without being posted 😅😅

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shadow wasn’t the type to meet many people unless it was absolutely necessary. So when you brought up introducing him to your brother, he raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue, hed do anything if you said it nice enough.

The two of you had yet to start officially dating, you wanted to wait untill he at least knew your family. You spent nearly every day together, and it was clear to anyone with eyes that there was something deeper than friendship between you.

Still, you hadn’t exactly told Shadow everything about yourself. Not because you were hiding anything—far from it—but because, well, some details just never seemed relevant. Like the fact that your brother was none other than Sonic the Hedgehog.

You didn’t think much of it. Shadow never really talked about Sonic, and you didn’t bring him up often either. It wasn’t until you arranged for the two of them to meet at a local café that you realized the glaring oversight in your plan.

---

You arrived first with Shadow, finding a cozy table in the corner of the café. He sat next to you, arms crossed, his usual stoic demeanor firmly in place. “So, your brother,” Shadow said, glancing at you. “What’s he like?”

You smiled. “Oh, he’s great. Kind of cocky sometimes, but he’s got a good heart. You’ll like him.” Shadow raised an eyebrow at that, but before he could respond, the door jingled, and you turned to see Sonic stroll in, his signature confident grin plastered across his face.

“Hey, there you are!” Sonic called out, making his way over to your table. His eyes flicked to Shadow, and his grin faltered slightly. “Oh. It’s you.” Shadow’s expression darkened immediately. “Of course. It’s you.”

You blinked, looking between the two of them. “Wait... you two know each other?” Sonic chuckled dryly, crossing his arms. “Know each other? Yeah, you could say that. Shadow and I have a bit of... history.”

Shadow scoffed, glaring at Sonic. “History? Is that what we’re calling it now? I’d call it a series of your insufferable antics.”

“Insufferable? Please,” Sonic shot back, smirking. “You’re just mad because I’m better and you're supposed to be "the ultimate lifeform".” Your mouth fell open as the two of them glared at each other, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

“Okay, hold on,” you said, holding up your hands. “I feel like I’m missing something here. How do you two even know each other?” Sonic blinked, glancing at you. “Wait... you’re telling me you never mentioned me to him?”

“I didn’t think it was important!” you said defensively. “Why, exactly, is this such a big deal?” Shadow narrowed his eyes at Sonic. “You didn’t tell me your brother was him.”

“Well, you didn’t tell me you hated my brother!” you shot back, exasperated.Sonic snorted. “Hate’s a strong word. It’s more like... mild irritation.”

“Mutual disdain,” Shadow corrected, his tone dry.You groaned, rubbing your temples. “Okay, look. Can we all just... start over? Shadow, this is my brother, Sonic. Sonic, this is Shadow. He’s... someone very important to me.”

Sonic’s eyebrows shot up, and a sly grin spread across his face. “Oh, very important, huh? Didn’t realize you had a thing for dark and broody hedgehogs.”

“Don’t start,” you warned, shooting him a glare. Shadow, for his part, simply crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. You shush himbefore he can let out the remark you could sense about to come from him, “You two are going to get along if it kills me. Sonic, stop being a smartass. Shadow, stop being... you.”

The two of them exchanged a glance, and for a moment, it seemed like they might actually listen.Then Sonic grinned again. “Fine. But only because I like you more than I dislike him.”

Shadow sighed, his expression softening slightly as he looked at you. “I’ll tolerate this... for you.” You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. It was going to take some time, but you had a feeling that, eventually, these two might just get along—or at least not fight on sight every time they were in the same room.

#Shadow x reader fluff #Shadow x reader #Sonic and reader #Sonic and Shadow #sonic universe #sonic fandom #sonic the hedgehog fanart #sonic fanfiction #Sonic 3 #Live action Shadow x reader #shadow the hedeghog #shadow the hedgehog #Shadow fluff #sonic universe x reader

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kenzlie · 7 months ago

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just one more? c.s

𝗒𝗈𝗎 were a 𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝗒𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗁𝗋𝗂𝗌, 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇..

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: SMUTT, oral (male receiving), degrade kink, praise kink, inappropriate language, p n v, unprotected sex, hair pulling, slapping, probably more idk i’m ℱ𝓇ℯ𝒶𝓀𝓎..

A/N: This is like my 1st post on tumblr, btw this is short bc the first time i wrote it, it got deleted, anyways if you do not like what i write and say, you can leave!! (it’s free) anyways enjoy 😈.

Orange = chris speaking, pink = fem speaking

i was sitting on the couch watching a movie, i was waiting for my boyfriend chris to get back from dropping matt and nick off at a sleepover

me and chris have a good relationship we understand each other very well and get along good, well sometimes just not always, anytime we have sex it’s gentle sex and always protected

the movie ended a few minutes ago and i’m scrolling on my phone, i hear the front door knob rattle before being opened “i’m back baby” “hi chris” i say while putting me phone away and smiling at him as he sets his stuff down and plops next to me on the couch “sorry i took so long, matt and nick got hungry so we stopped to get them food” “don’t be sorry baby, wanna make some brownies?” “yeah sure”

we’re standing in the kitchen mixing the batter, well i was, chris was just standing and watching “are you gonna help or just stand there?” i say with a bit of a attitude “you can do it” “no come help chris” i say annoyed, he ignores me “oh so now you can’t hear?” “i can hear perfect but you wanted to make them” “i thought you’d be a good boyfriend and help, i mean come on it’s common sense chris.” “i’m okay you got it” i groan at his annoying comment

i was pouring the batter into the pan making sure it was just perfect and right “let me lick the spoon” chris says trying to grab it from my hand, i pull my hand back “no, you should’ve helped” i say licking the spoon while keeping eye contact, teasing him by the minute

i had put the brownies in the oven to cook about 15 minutes ago, they’d be done it 5 to 10 minutes, me and chris were sitting on the couch looking at our phones, chris wasn’t speaking to me over the spoon thing, typical childish chris

“your a brat do you know that?” he says breaking the silence “excuse me?” i say knowing i have but chris never minded it “you heard me, you’ve been a fucking brat.” “so? your point is?” “my point is you should your attitude before i fix it for you.” “ok bud..” i knew then i had got under his skin, he HATED when i called him bud,buddy,bro or any sort of name like that, he gives me a death stare and was about to say something before the oven timer went off, i get up walking over to the kitchen,i turn off the oven before bending down with my oven mits, grabbing the pan and placing it on the counter, i turn around about to go grab a knife to cut the brownies, but instead i turn around to chris death staring me "can i help you chris?" i ask, without a word chris picks me up putting me on the edge of the counter before smashing his lips against mine "chris.." i say muffled "i warned you, did you listen? no."

all of a sudden he’s carrying me up the stairs to the bedroom, chris has never been like this with me he’s always gentle and soft, he tosses me on the bed “you wanna act like a brat? i’ll fuck you like one.” he stands in front of me unbuttoning his jeans “come here slut” he says as he pulls his boxers down, his long hard length slapping against his lower stomach, i crawl over to him as he stands at the end of the bed “chris i’m not giving you head after you didn’t even try helping me in the kitchen” he pulls my face up to look at him “do you really think i care? now open.” he says slapping my cheek slighty, i open my mouth slightly as he shoves himself in without warning “mph!” i say muffled, i suck slowly since that’s usually how we always go, slow and gentle, “faster whore..” he breathes out grabbing my hair and fucking my mouth, i stroke what i can’t fit, “fuck..” he moans, almost whimpering, i speed up my pace with both my hands and mouth, all of a sudden he shoots warm white ropes to the back of my throat, i swallowed his load as i breathe out

before i can even speak im being pushed onto my back, chris wastes to time pulling off my shirt and pants, leaving me only in my underwear and bra, my underwear was soaked, i looked away embarrassed, chris grabs my face to look at him “how fucking pathetic..” he slips my underwear off my body before rubbing his tip around my folds “please don’t tease..” i beg letting out a whine that was quickly replaced with a gasp that was caused from chris shoving himself inside me, his thrust were fast and rough “c-chris!” i moan as i throw my head back, chris’s hand snakes behind my head grabbing a fist full of hair, pulling on it to make me look at him, his free hand was stabbing into my hip as he fucked me without mercy “g-gonna cum baby..” i warn “c’mon baby cum for me..” my orgasm hits me hard, i moan out grabbing onto whatever i can, chris doesn’t stop, “can’t take it!” i whine “c’mon ma, just one more?”, chris thrusts into me harshly a few more times before i cum again, i could tell he was close, clearly from his now sloppy thrusts “fuck fuck fuck..” he whispers before pulling out and spilling all over my stomach

after chris cleaned me up and helped me change, he simply threw on some plaid pants and a white tank top, he crawled in bed next to me cuddling up behind me “i love you baby..” he whispers into my ear “i love you too chris..” i whisper back.

A/N: this is my first smut in a while so ntm, anywho i hope you enjoyed this!!

@chrissslut

#sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo smut #smut

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niteskysx · 22 days ago

Text

ghostface nac x reader

Warnings: psychological manipulation, stalking, established relationship ig?

(I wrote this in between appointments over the course of several months… haven't even properly edited this thing, idk how to feel about it. lmk 😭 also, it's not smutty at all, just a collection of drabbles filled with tension, I guess? sjdkejd)

The sound of your frantic breathing filled the quiet of your darkened living room. You pressed yourself against the wall, heart pounding as you clutched a lamp, your last line of defense.

Somewhere in the shadows, you could hear his boots against the floorboards. Slow. Deliberate. He was in no hurry. “I know you’re here,” his voice called out, low and taunting. “Come on out, sweetheart. We both know how this ends.” Tears blurred your vision as you pressed a trembling hand to your mouth, trying to muffle your cries. You’d seen his face—or at least his mask—at the scene of the crime. You’d been at the wrong place at the wrong time, and now he was here to silence you for good. A floorboard creaked nearby. You tried to bolt as fast as possible- “Ah, there she is!” he called out, his tone almost playful as he pursued you.

You ran blindly, crashing into furniture and stumbling in the dark until you reached the hallway. Just as you turned to glance behind you, his hand shot out, gripping your arm. You screamed, wrenching yourself free and stumbling backward, only to trip over a rug and fall to the floor.

You scrambled back against the wall, your knees tucked to your chest as he approached, his knife glinting in the faint light.

The sounds of your sobs filled the room, each breath a desperate gasp as you pressed yourself further into the wall.

The knife was still in his hand, but his posture had changed—no longer looming over you with the intent to kill, but kneeling down to your level, something softer in his eyes, though it remained guarded.

"Please," you gasped between sobs, your hands clutching the fabric of your shirt. "I don’t want to die. Please.”

But something shifted in him. His grip on the knife loosened, and he took a slow step back. For a moment, he simply stared at you, your tears streaking your cheeks, your body trembling like a frightened, frigid ittle thing...

Without a word, he reached up and removed the mask.

Your breath hitched.

He was too handsome to be a killer. His hair was a messy brown. His skin glowed faintly in the dim light, and his eyes—dark, intense—scanned your face with an expression you couldn’t read. He smelled of cologne and sweat, a mixture of danger and something oddly intoxicating.

He crouched down to your level, his hand lowering the knife to the ground, leaving it forgotten on the floor. “Hey,” he murmured, his voice soft now, almost tender. “Hey, it’s okay.”

Your chest heaved as you stared at him, confused and terrified. What was happening?

His eyes stayed fixed on you, his movements slow and deliberate as he leaned closer. You flinched, but he didn’t stop. Instead, he reached out, one hand softly grazing your cheek, wiping away a tear as he whispered, "Hey... it’s okay... it’s okay."

Your lips quivered as you tried to speak, but no sound came out.

“Shh,” he whispered, his thumb tracing your jawline, making you shiver. “It’s okay.” You froze, unsure of what to do. His other hand’s thumb, almost without thinking, traced upon your top and bottom lip.

You didn’t move, your mind spinning as his face inched closer to yours. His breath ghosted over your lips, and you instinctively turned your head slightly, but his hand on your cheek kept you in place. He didn’t want to hurt you, not like this– not anymore. But why?

“Hey,” he murmured again, his voice so soft now it almost broke you. “Look at me.”

Against your better judgment, you did.

“See?” he whispered, his lips barely a breath away from yours. “It’s okay… it’s okay.” He kept repeating it, over and over, like a mantra, as his thumb traced your lips more insistently, his touch growing more desperate and intimate.

You stared up at him, wide-eyed, confused, and fearful. Your voice trembled as you managed to force the words out.

"Wha—what are you doing?" your breath hitched, the confusion still heavy in your voice.

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his eyes drifted down to your lips once again, and his hand slowly slid from your cheek to your jaw, fingers gently cupping your face.

Then, without warning, he leaned in closer, his lips brushed against yours in a hesitant, slow motion. You froze, your breath catching in your throat as his lips pressed more firmly against yours. He kissed you deeper then, a rush of heat flooding his chest as his tongue slipped past your lips. You gasped, a sharp sound escaping as you instinctively tensed at the sensation. The kiss, rough and hungry, was a sharp contrast to the gentleness he had shown moments before. He could feel your surprise to the kiss; the way your body stiffened, but he didn’t stop— his hands began moving to your neck, holding you in place as he deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with an intensity that startled even him.

The warmth of your breath mingled with his… The feel of your heartbeat against his chest as you let out a soft, surprised gasp before the kiss consumed you. The frantic beating of your heart mirrored his own, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away, not when he was so consumed by the moment.

And in that brief moment, everything else- your fear, the trembling… the knife that was once in his hand—seemed to vanish entirely.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________

It had been days since he first broke into your apartment. Weeks, actually. Ever since that night, he had been showing up uninvited—always late, always in his usual Ghostface attire. Sometimes just to watch a movie, raid your kitchen, or talk. Other times… to do other things.

The guilt was suffocating, growing heavier with each passing day. This had gone on for too long now. You had to tell someone. That the Ghostface killer—the masked murderer terrorizing the city—was your secret late-night rendezvous. And worse? You didn’t even know his real name!

So, you made a decision. If you couldn’t stop him, if you couldn’t stop yourself, then you could at least try to make sense of it all. Therapy was supposed to help with that, right? Surely, someone would understand.

You clutched your bag tightly as you entered the waiting room, nerves already frayed. This was supposed to be your safe space, the one place where you could untangle the chaos in your mind—especially after him.

But then, as if the universe itself was mocking you, he walked out of the office.

“Thanks, Dr. Goldman. I’ve never felt better!” he said, flashing an exaggerated grin, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Your heart plummeted. No. No, this couldn’t be happening.

There he was, standing in the doorway, hands shoved casually into the pockets of his maroon leather jacket. When his gaze met yours, his smirk spread like wildfire.

“Well, fancy seeing you here,” he drawled, leaning lazily against the doorframe.

You froze, your entire body going cold.

“What… what are you doing here?” The words slipped out before you could stop them.

“Oh, just taking care of my mental health,” he said smoothly, mock sincerity lacing his tone. “Isn’t that what they say? Therapy is good for the soul.”

Dr. Goldman glanced between the two of you, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “Do you two know each other?”

Nick didn’t hesitate. “Of course,” he said with an easy smirk. “We’ve got history, don’t we?”

You shook your head quickly. “No. We don’t.”

His grin widened. “Don’t be shy,” he teased, stepping closer. His voice dipped into something quieter, something meant just for you. “Tell him how close we’ve gotten.”

Your face burned, anger rising in your chest, but somehow, you couldn’t look away from his gaze.

Dr. Goldman cleared his throat. “Well, [Y/N], I’m ready whenever you are.” He stepped away awkwardly, sensing the tension. “I’ll be in my office.”

As soon as Dr. Goldman disappeared, Ghostface—or Nick, as you’d overheard him introduce himself—took a step closer to you, that cocky grin not leaving his face.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here,” he murmured, his tone casual, but his eyes—sharp, knowing—betrayed him. “But then again… I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. After everything, I’d need a therapist too.”

You swallowed hard, throat suddenly dry. “W-what are you doing here? Are you following me?”

He feigned a look of offense before grinning wider. “What, you think I don’t have issues to work out? Come on, sweetheart, even psychos have feelings.” He leaned in slightly, the scent of his cologne—spice and danger—filling your senses. “But don’t worry. I’m cured now.”

Jaw clenched, you turned sharply, making your way toward the office—until you felt his fingers wrap around your wrist.

Gently. Not enough to hurt, but just enough to stop you.

Then, before you could pull away, he leaned in close, breath warm against your ear. His voice was nothing more than a whisper.

“Go ahead,” he murmured. “Tell him all about me.”

Your knees nearly buckled.

But you forced yourself to keep moving, stepping into the office with your entire body trembling.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________

You're curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, the soft hum of the TV filling the empty space around you. Your hair is pulled up in a messy bun, a few strands falling loose against your face. The house feels too quiet without your parents here—eerily still, like it's waiting for something. Every small creak of the walls settling makes your stomach tighten, every shadow in the dim light of the screen seems darker, deeper.

You try to shake the feeling, telling yourself it’s just your imagination. But then—

You hear a sound of the back door clicking shut.

Your entire body goes rigid. The kitchen.

Your breath catches in your throat as you strain to listen. Footsteps. Slow, deliberate. The unmistakable rustle of someone moving through your house.

Not again...

“Nice place,” his familiar, cocky voice called out from the kitchen.

Your stomach twists. No. No, no, no. How did he get in?

You shove the blanket off, your heartbeat a frantic hammering in your ears as you rush toward the kitchen.

There he was, rummaging through the cabinets like he owned the place. His leather jacket hung loosely on his broad shoulders, and his fluffy hair was slightly disheveled. He radiated a casual arrogance that both terrified and infuriated you.

“What are you doing here?” you demand, your voice sharp, desperate to keep steady.

He doesn’t even look at you, instead pulling out a box of cereal, inspecting it like he’s making himself at home. “What does it look like? I’m hungry.”

He was getting under your skin. “You can’t just—just be here. You need to leave!”

Finally, he turns to face you, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Relax, princess. Your parents are out of town, aren’t they? Won’t be back for…what, a week?”

Your breath hitches. “H-how do you know that?”

He shrugged, plucking a banana from the fruit bowl and peeling it. “I know a lot of things.”

“Get out,” you say, forcing even more steel into your voice, but it still shakes.

He takes a slow bite of the banana, leaning casually against the counter. Then, with an easy shrug, he says it—like a dare, like he already knows you won’t.

“Make me.”

You grit your teeth in anger and try to grab the stack of mail he had started flipping through, but he easily holds it out of your reach.

“Oh, no, no,” he says, pulling the envelopes further away. “Say please first.”

Your brows furrow. “What?”

His smirk widens as he leans closer, voice dipping into something low and teasing. “Say… please. Come on, you can do it. Please.”

She hesitated, blinking at him in disbelief.

“Come on,” he coaxed, holding the mail just out of reach. “It’s not that hard. ‘Please, mister terrifying murderer who broke into my house, stop opening my mail.’”

Your face burns as you mutter, “Please.”

“What was that?” He cups a hand to his ear, leaning in mockingly.

“Please!” you say louder, your voice shaking with anger and humiliation.

“Ah, there you go!” He hands you the mail, but not before brushing his fingers against yours just long enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“Now,” he says, tone shifting from playful to something sharper, more curious. “What is it about you?”

Your pulse quickens. “What are you talking about?”

He sets the banana down and turns toward you fully, “You. What’s so special about you?”

You step back, bumping into the counter as he stalks closer.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says, tilting his head like he’s studying you. “I don’t let people go. Ever. So what is it? What, you got some deep, tragic childhood trauma? Mommy didn’t love you? Daddy wasn’t around? There’s got to be something, right?”

You swallow hard, shaking your head. “What? N-no. Th-there’s nothing—”

“Or,” he interrupts, leaning in so your faces are inches apart, “is it just because I’m a guy? Because, yeah, I’ve got my moments, but this?” He gestures between you. “This isn’t me. I don’t do this. I don’t let people go. So what the hell is it? Hmm?”

His eyes flick down to your lips briefly before he steps back with a frustrated laugh, running a hand through his hair. “God, you’re such a headache.”

And just like that, he turns back to the cabinets, rifling through them like nothing had happened.

tags aka my lovelies: @lalavenderangel @violetidk @nicholaschavezslut69 @blackynsupremacy @motherismotheringggg @hoffmansgirl @greengoblinswifey @emluvsuxo @iamsebastiansstan @thekhloediary @blog-o-meter

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