#YOU MADE THE CHOICE TO DO SOMETHING THAT WOULD HURT YOU. BE PREPARED

[xhyjin]

yanderenanami! who was your boss when you two first met? you were an intern at the company he worked at, assigned to be his personal assistant and tend to his needs, handling tasks like making reservations, scheduling his appointments/meetings, and basically all the small stuff he couldn’t waste any company time on. your relationship was strictly professional. you two never spoke unless you needed his confirmation on something; other than that, it was pure silence.

yanderenanami! you had been working with him for the past 8 months as an intern, and you were seeing no signs of getting the job permanently. you had no choice; you couldn’t waste any more time as an intern—you had loans to pay off and bills to take care of! when you knocked on his office door and heard a low grumble of “come in,” you walked into his office with your resignation letter behind your back. “mr. nanami, i need you to sign something off for me,” you asked, expecting it to be another application or something for approval. but when you handed him the envelope, he raised an eyebrow. “what’s this?” he said, not even letting you answer as he opened the envelope and read it. looking at you and then the envelope, he said, “you’re quitting?” you nodded, not knowing what to say. he just sighed and signed it off before handing it back to you.

yanderenanami! you walked out of his office dumbfounded by his lack of sympathy. i mean, he didn’t even say goodbye or anything along the lines of “it was great having you here,” but what did you expect? he had always been stoic and nonchalant since the day you started working there. you packed away the little stuff you had on your desk in front of his office, a bit bummed that you didn’t get the job, but you weren’t going to continue working for free. you walked into the elevator, thinking you would never see mr. nanami again either as the elevator doors shut.

yanderenanami! he immediately called one of his buddies when you walked out of his office—the one who was good at keeping tabs and dealing with situations like yours: toji fushiguro. he told him straight up what he needed, which was you, but he wasn’t going to ask toji to kidnap you or anything extreme. he just wanted him to keep track of where you were, who you were with, what you were doing, and all the usual details. that way, he could have some time to plan something out, something special for you.

yanderenanami! who spent weeks planning everything for your “arrival,” setting up cameras in every corner, barricading any exits from the inside, keeping sharp or harmful objects away, and most of all, creating a perfect little room for you to spend your time in. you were going to be there for a long time, and maybe a good time. he had toji along with shiu parked outside your place. It was in the middle of the night, and due to your circumstance, you didn’t live in the best part of town, so cameras or police or civilians were nowhere in sight, which was perfect for him but not perfect for you. he unlocked your door with the duplicate key that toji had made, tiptoeing into your house like a thief and up the stairs to your single bedroom where you lay like a princess in slumber. he carefully placed a cloth on your nose, making sure not to hurt you in the process, and as he felt you fall into an unconscious state that wasn’t slumber, he carefully tossed you over his shoulder before making his way out of the house and into the van that was parked outside.

yanderenanami! who watched you sleep peacefully as shiu drove to nanamis house that was on the other side of town, a gated neighbourhood where only the elites lived, where you would be safe. he knew that shiu and toji might me wondering who you were or why you were in this situation but he didn’t care all that he cared about was that he finally got you and he will never let you go.

yanderenanami! who carried you into his house, which was prepared for your “visit,” carefully taking you up the stairs as you lay unconscious in his arms to the room he had prepared for you. he placed you down on the bed, tucking you in with a faint smile on his lips. he didn’t want you to be scared when you woke up, so he placed a stuffed animal—your favorite—beside you and left the room, his heart beating fast as he couldn’t believe he had you all to himself now.

yanderenanami! who woke up in a panic the next day when he heard your scream but quickly calmed down once he realized what was happening. of course, you would scream—you had fallen asleep in your room, only to wake up in a perfect replica of it, but with an eerie feeling lingering in the air.

he quickly threw on a shirt and sweats, making his way to your room, which was heavily locked and barricaded. when he finally opened the door, he saw you curled up in the corner, legs pulled to your chest as you trembled in fear. but the moment your eyes met his, something shifted.

as he stepped closer, a small smile played on his lips. “relax,” he said, his hands reaching out, almost like how you’d show a dog you were friendly. “you’re safe now, okay? it’s just me.” his voice was calm, reassuring, as he crouched down to your level, gently patting your head.

“i’ve got you now.”

[borealopelta]

hmmm. i think if people are about to do stupid shit they should first make sure they know basic first aid for the injuries they're definitely going to sustain <3

[powdermelonkeg]

Important rules/tips I've learned as an adult that helped with anxiety

If people are mad at you, it's their responsibility to tell you, not your responsibility to guess

If they're mad at you in secret anyways, they're the ones in the wrong, not you

If people don't like what you're doing, it's their responsibility to tell you

If they say it's fine when it's really not, they're the ones in the wrong, not you

People are allowed to be wrong about you

If they are wrong about you, wait for them to bring it up, because if you try to, you will inevitably overcorrect

Some people are committed to misunderstanding you. You will not win arguments against them. Yes, even if you explain your point of view. They do not care. Drop it

The worst thing that will happen from a first-time offense is being told not to do it again. Maybe with a replacement if you broke something

You can improve relationships and gauge willingness to talk to you by giving compliments. It's like a daily log-in bonus and nobody thinks twice about it

Most things are better after you sleep on them

Most things are better after you have a meal

Most things are better after you shower

Your brain makes up consequences that are irrational. If the worst DOES come to pass and someone acts like they do in your head, they are overreacting, and you are entitled to say "what the fuck"

If your chest hurts after you feel like you've made a social error, that's called rejection-sensitive dysphoria. It means your anxiety is so bad that it's causing you physical pain, which is a good indicator that you're overreacting. Tense yourself, hold it for 20 seconds, let it go, then find a distraction

If you're suddenly angry at someone after you feel like you made a social error, that's also rejection-sensitive dysphoria. You are going to feel annoyed about it for awhile, but being genuinely pissed off is your anxiety trying to find something to blame to take the responsibility off your shoulders, and getting scared because it can't justify itself. Deep breaths, ask yourself how much you ACTUALLY want to be angry at that person, then find a distraction

"Sour grapes" is more healthy for you than stewing. Deciding you don't like someone who's perpetually annoyed with you, won't talk to you, etc. makes letting go of anxiety over them easier

If people don't like you, they will find reasons to be annoyed with you when they otherwise wouldn't. If people do like you, they will find reasons NOT to be annoyed with you when they otherwise would. People do not ping-pong between the two

You DO have to make a conscious choice not to think about something. If you're having trouble circling back to it, say out loud that you're done thinking about it and why. Then find a distraction

When you're upset, part of you is going to want to make false bids for attention (suddenly texting differently, heavy sighs, etc. but when someone asks you about it, you tell them it's nothing). Do not listen to it. You gain nothing from it except more misery

People like to help people they care about. It makes them feel good about themselves

If you think you're insufferable for needing help, see above. Yes, really. They get a serotonin kick from it

If you think you're insufferable for mannerisms you have, you either have to consciously choose not to do them, or accept that they're part of the package that comes with you. Being apologetic about existing does nothing except make you more miserable

If you do things you don't like when you feel meh about it, it makes it easier to do them when you hate it

If you avoid things you don't like when you feel meh about it, it reinforces and magnifies how bad it feels when you hate it

Seriously. Read those last two points again. If you can make yourself make a phone call when you've got nothing to lose, you will slowly lose that panic you get when you have to make a phone call you haven't prepared for. You do have to CONSCIOUSLY take that step

Hobbies that make you care for something get rid of that nagging feeling that you're not doing enough. Go grow some rosemary

If you don't engage with your hobbies regularly, you will feel miserable, and anxiety will spike

Hobbies are things that give you a bit of happiness. They do not have to be organized or named to do that. Go be creative in something. Play with coins. Make up lists. Start a new WIP

No one cares what you look like

If people point out things they don't like about how you look unprompted, they are being rude. You are entitled to say "what the fuck"

People who like you will find you pretty to some degree. Minor things about your appearance go completely unnoticed. Literally, scars and dots and blemishes do not register to someone who likes your company

You looking at yourself in the mirror is 10x more closely than anyone is going to look at you

If you're anxious about your body type, and you're creatively inclined, make/write an oc with that same shape. Give them nice things and make other characters love them. Put them on adventures. You'll start to see yourself in the mirror more kindly

You care about wording and perfect lines/colors way more than anyone who views your work ever will

Sometimes when you're upset, you're going to feel like not eating. Do not do that. Not eating makes you more miserable

Same with things you normally enjoy. Denying yourself helps no one. You are punishing yourself for being sad. Stop it

Both of these will take conscious decision to break the habit of. Make yourself do it anyways, and it will slowly get easier

And again, to reiterate: If someone is mad at you, it is THEIR responsibility to tell you, not your responsibility to guess

[heegyukeluv]

complementary - the physics of your body [part 2] (sjy)

pairing: brother's best friend!jake x afab!reader

synopsis: Jake loved physics as much as he loved you.

my's note: part 2 is here earlier than expected because i'm anxious 😀

warnings: trauma from parents, fluff, angst, drama/arguments, more physics stuff lol, pet names (babe, doll, good girl…), reader blushing/turning red!, reader have a bit of an explosive demeanor, SMUT - so minors DO NOT interact!, unprotected sex (don’t do it!!!), oral (f.), squirting, jk cum inside, overstimulation (f.), bathtub sex. lmk if i missed something!

wc: 13k

NOT PROOFREAD.

part 1

Saying you cried all night would be an understatement. Having feelings for Jake now felt like a bittersweet ache, hard to swallow and to have close to you. You couldn’t help but get into a spiral of darker thoughts.

Was it worth it?

Jake was in your mind throughout the entire night.

When you woke up the next morning, your eyes felt like they weighed a ton, and your body craved a rest you knew you couldn’t give it – not anytime soon, at least. Both physically and mentally, you were utterly drained.

You had spent part of the night wide awake, crying and torn between two nearly impossible choices: breaking things off with Jake or fighting to keep him. It was a strange, bitter feeling that sat heavily in the pit of your stomach. It didn’t dissolve with the tears or the long hours – it only lingered, raw and unresolved.

Jay ignored you on Saturday. And again on Sunday. You ignored Jake on Saturday. And again on Sunday.

Jake  assumed your sudden distance was due to your determined spirit, convinced you were throwing yourself into studying for your final exams. He didn’t want to disturb you and instead left sweet, encouraging messages to cheer you on without adding to your stress. But something in the way you responded – or rather, in the way you didn’t – planted a seed of doubt in his mind.

He called you and you dismissed.

The lump in your throat only heavening within each missed call and message left on read, realizing you could be hurting Jake as much as you were hurt.

You just didn’t know what to do, what to expect or where to run, because everything seemed wrong or difficult; Jay wasn’t there for you, and you couldn't reach Jake because he was the reason Jay wasn’t there for you.

Messy, confused, chaotic.

As the night settled quietly in your apartment, you opted not to leave your room. Your face swollen with heavy tears that spilled just like a waterfall. 

But then a sudden outburst of words being spoken loudly in your living room got your ears perked, your heart speeding it beats, your stomach knotting in despair as you made your way towards the noise.

“Where is she?”

“You’ll not see her.”

After feeling something was off, his instincts screamed for him to take action, so Jake immediately sped his car all the way to your apartment. He had his mind racing, spinning even, a dreadful feeling creeping inside his chest while each possible scenario played out in his head. But nothing, absolutely nothing, prepared him for what he found when he finally landed his eyes on you.

Your figure appeared in the doorway the very moment Jake asked about you, almost as if his words had summoned you, drawing you in like an unshakable spell. Under different circumstances, it might have been beautiful, poetic even. But not now. Not like this.

“Y/N! Oh, my God," Jake exclaimed, his wide eyes filling with a mixture of relief and alarm. He expertly sidestepped Jay’s attempt to block him, his focus zeroed in on you as though nothing else mattered.

You flinched as he closed the space between you, your fists clenched at your sides, trembling slightly as you let him pull you into his arms. His hold was firm but not overbearing, like he was trying to shield you from a world you desperately wanted to escape.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice gentle yet laced with urgency, concern dripping from every word. Then, without waiting for an answer, his gaze darted to Jay, his tone sharpening into something far more dangerous. “What the fuck happened?”

The question hung in the air, heavy and crackling with tension. The room felt suffocating, the silence a cruel prelude to whatever would come next.

Your body gave up. Jake's scent enveloped you like a mist, soothing and soft, allowing you to be your most raw version – the one in desperate need of refuge. The painful sobs tore through you, your body shaking against Jake’s chest as he tightened his hold protectively, as though he could physically keep your pain away.

“You two happened.”

Jake stiffened as Jay’s words cut through the atmosphere, your entire body shuddering, a pang in your chest leaving you breathless for a second. Jake’s head snapped towards his best friend, panic underlying his voice as he feared the worst.

“What?” 

Jay let out a bitter laugh, devoid of any humor. “She’s my sister, Jake,” he could have stopped just at that, it would be enough to make Jake's terror increase significantly. But he didn’t, he made sure that his every word was loud and clear. “My little sister! Did you even think for one second before–” He stopped, gulping while a hand ran through his blonde strands, eyes never wavering. “Before hooking up with her? I know about your fucking casual relationships, Jake.” 

Jake’s grip on you loosened just enough for him to take a step back, but his touch remained close, grounding. He opened his mouth to respond, but you beat him to it, your voice raw and trembling.

“It’s not just a casual–”

“Please, stop,” you whispered, your eyes brimming with fresh tears, fluttering close, and not really aiming for anyone in particular. “I can’t handle this right now.”

Jay’s expression faltered for a moment, realizing he might have gone too far. On the other hand, Jake looked at you, confused. 

“Please, go.” You sniffed, unwillingly pushing Jake away from you. He stumbled on his feet a little, offering you the most lost, baffled puppy eyes. You wished you had kept your eyes closed, the pain in your chest growing heavier each passing moment. “I– I appreciate you for coming, but… But just go, please.”

Guilt. You felt the guilt slowly and painfully eating away at you. Guilt for hurting the one person who cared most about you. Guilt for letting things unfold the way they did. Guilt for liking – loving – Jake.

You were torn between confronting Jay, your only family that remained by your side to fight for Jake, and letting Jake go, as a way to go back to how it was before.

There was no possible choice, everything felt like a fresh, open wound and the argument only put pressure on it.

“Alright.” Jake whispered, his eyes lowering until they rested on the floor. “I’m going, because you’re asking me to,” he nodded to himself, quickly taking a glance at Jay over his shoulder before approaching you; the phantom of his touch lingering on your fingers as he let go of your hand. “But I’m not leaving you, Y/N. Not now that I finally have you.”

Jay had not spoken a word to you in a whole week.

He avoided the slightest interaction with you, going out of his way to ensure that your paths rarely crossed. Yet, every day, he still managed to prepare your full meals, leaving them meticulously arranged on the counter, as if to fulfill a silent duty. It was a strange contrast – his actions speaking of care, while his absence screamed louder than words ever could.

Jay would leave the house earlier than normal and return just in time to prevent having you under his line of sight, a perfectly calculated timing you wished to end soon.

The unspoken tension lingered in every corner of the house, a suffocating reminder of the fracture between you both.

He didn't strict your routine nor made you change your lifestyle, but it weighed just as hard. It somehow felt way worse than when your parents treated you back then, yelling harsh words alongside punishments to put you back on the line or regain control over your life.

Receiving the heaviness of your brother’s silence cut deeper than anything else, mainly because he was your only true family.

On the other hand, Jake was dealing with a double loss. It hurt to feel like losing his best friend, to watch his messages being ignored and having his calls go to voicemail, to be prohibited to step into his house under any circumstances.

But the idea of losing you definitely started to hurt way more.

In the middle of the week, you called him. Your voice was weak, almost fragile, and it made his heart squeeze in his chest.

“I aced my physics exam,” you said, barely above a whisper. “I wanted to thank you… for everything.”

“No way!” Jake exclaimed, his voice lighting up with a rush of pride and excitement as he hid himself in the company’s bathroom. A big smile tugged at the corner of his lips, the one he always wore when he was truly happy for you. You couldn’t see it, though. “I’m so proud of you, baby. I knew you would beat that exam's ass.”

That small interaction somehow felt like a bullet had lodged in his chest and he couldn’t run to the hospital to resolve it. It was almost robotic, far from utterly genuine, because there was a thick smoke of tension that suffocated his senses, that reminded him you were slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. God, he was your boyfriend! Not a random.

You giggled at his choice of words, a sweet, genuine sound that had not been present in days. The sound of your happiness made his heart shrink, as if it was both breaking and expanding at the same time. He wanted to hear more of it, wanted to make it last forever. The warmth in his chest turned into a wave of determination.

“Thanks to you, Jake,” you whispered, the words soft but carrying the weight of everything unspoken.

And without missing a beat, Jake was already planning his next move. “That’s it. I’m coming to pick you up.”

The certainty in his voice was unwavering. You tried to argue, to refuse, to come up with something to stop him, but he wasn’t having it.

“Your work–”

“I can leave early.”

“But it’s far–”

“I don’t care.”

He was already thinking of you and you only – of the way you deserved to be celebrated, of how he just wanted to hold you close, to kiss you. He missed you so fucking much it hurt, it painfully hurt.

“I’m picking you up,” he repeated, this time softer but no less sure.

“But–”

“Don’t even try to argue.”

You could hear him smiling through the phone, and it made your heart ache. Why did this feel so wrong, and yet so right at the same time?

“Wait for me, my angel. I’m on my way,” he finished, his words like a promise.

You felt your heart race, even if a part of you wanted to protest, to tell him that he didn’t need to go. But at that moment, you didn’t have the strength to stop him, so you waited. You waited for the man of your life.

Ever since, Jake began picking you up from your classes every single day. He would have his lunch with you and video call you during the night, singing a sweet lullaby until you fell asleep. He bought you a cake and kissed you deeply to celebrate your achievement, once again voicing out how proud he was.

You needed support, you needed someone that had your back, and Jake was your boyfriend, the one who should be giving you the comfort you deserved.

It was unbearable to watch you withering quietly and not having much to do other than offer some hugs and kisses, other than have his hands on yours, other than his caresses on your hair. 

However, as soon as you started to lit up again with your jokes and smiles, Jake realized it was worth it. His efforts were worth it, and he would keep doing a million things, a million times over, if it meant seeing you happy.

But there were days when you slipped back into the overwhelming sadness, due the silent reminder from Jay that his treatment of you had not changed – and maybe never would.

You couldn’t help but believe he felt betrayed, and you didn’t have the strength or courage to change his perception.

Deep down, you knew yourself well enough to understand that any confrontation would be ugly – because, beyond sadness, you also carried the weight of a quiet, lingering anger.

“He just needs time,” Jake said, offering you the same reassurance every damn day.

Two weeks have passed since Jay discovered your relationship with his best friend, but it felt like ages, painful ages, days that you had to drag yourself through it, finding perseverance in the depths of your soul to keep going, keep pushing through it.

And you don’t think you would be able to do it if it wasn't for Jake.

He was now hugging you, one hand kindly caressing your back, the other firmly holding yours. You had curled up against him in the car, your body trembling as you sobbed into his chest, trying to calm yourself by hearing his gentle breathing.

The sound of your sobs broke his heart. He knew you didn’t want to cry, but he also knew there was nothing he could say or do to make it stop. All he could do was hold you, let you pour out your emotions, and be there for you.

“I don't even know why I'm crying right now,” you said with a broken voice, burying your face deeper on the crook of his neck. “Shh, it’s okay,” Jake whispered softly, his voice low, the kind of soothing tone he knew you wanted to hear. “You don’t have to know. Just let go, my love.” And so you did. The pain, the confusion, the despair, the anger, everything weighing on you felt too much to bear, flowing away through your wrenching tears. “I don’t know what to do, Jake,” you mumbled between sobs, your voice shaky, “I never thought he’d be like this… It’s been so long. I never thought I’d lose him.” Jake’s grip on you tightened. He understood the intensity of your pain; he could see it in your eyes, feel it in your touch, in your words. He never felt this way before, like lingering on a thin string of losing his mind, feeling so, so useless. Jake wished he could erase all your pain and sorrow, or at least transfer it to him. 

On that very day, Jake made a quiet promise of never, ever, breaking your heart. 

“You won’t lose him,” he said gently, nuzzling his chin on the top of your head, the shampoo scent calming his nerves a little. He hoped to give you the same comfort. “You just need to give him time. He’ll come around, I know it.”

You let out a deep, fragile sigh, your shoulders trembling as you struggled to stop the tears streaming freely from your eyes, sobs echoing through the car softly as you stained Jake’s shirt. He seemed not to care, arms around you as though he could shield you from the gloom that slowly and painfully swallowed you, as though he could maintain you with him, forever. 

Jake held you as close as possible, as reassuring as possible, as grounding as possible; a comforting, sweet, gentle cocoon anchoring you, as his hands drew subtle circles on your back.

With a mild push, you pulled away from Jake embrace just enough to murmur, voice raw, shaking. 

“Sorry, I dampened your shirt.”

“I love you.”

Jake said, nearly at the same time.

On that very day, Jake made a loud promise of loving you unconditionally forever. 

The words tumbled out of his mouth, soft yet firm, as though they had been sitting on the tip of his tongue, waiting for the right moment. His voice carried a certainty that cut through the fog of your sorrow, the three words echoing louder than your sobs ever could.

You peered up with your glossy eyes, shooting Jake a flabbergasted glance that replaced your broken expression. His chest tightened, his heart nearly shattering at the sight of you, so brittle, so vulnerable, so utterly… destroyed.

Jake wanted to do more than just hold you. He wanted to wrap you in the warmest, coziest blanket and protect you from the world and all the pain it had inflicted. He wanted to whisper reassurances until his voice gave out, to erase every tear from your cheeks with gentle kisses, to love you so deeply that you would never feel this hollow again.

He wanted to shower you with love.

The same love he was sure he nurtured for you. The same love that had been haunting his entire being to voice out, suffocating, desperate to be born into the world you both shared. The same love he discovered he loved to feel. 

Jake loved to love you, because you made it easy to.

“What?” Your voice was barely above a whisper, your brows furrowing slightly.

“I love you. I don't know what to do in this situation, but I know I love you. And I think you should know too.”

You hesitated, mouth opening and closing repeatedly while no words came out, because you had nothing that equaled the sudden sweet burning sensation that spread inside your chest as you heard those pretty words. 

Love.

You didn’t remember loving someone as much as you loved Jake.

Over the past few days, Jake had made it increasingly difficult for your love to remain a mere whisper in the depths of your mind. He had proven himself deserving of your affection, your care, your attention – because he gave just as much, if not more, in return. He had broken through the protective barriers of your heart, the ones that kept strangers away; except Jake wasn’t a stranger anymore. Perhaps, deep down, he never was.

Beyond the chaos within you, the silent, yet deafening conflict of your situation with Jay, Jake had stirred a yearning inside you – a desperate urge to scream to the world that he was the love of your life.

It was an uncontrollable desire to say it out loud, to tell him you loved him the way a painter loves their muse, the way a musician treasures their draft, the way a photographer cherishes their landscapes.

It was a love that was raw, sincere, genuine – achingly so. And it was a love you were happy to know it was mutual.

Jake was the most gorgeous star, brightening your profoundly clouded sky. 

“Jake–” You finally managed to speak, not exactly aiming for anything other than just… Say something. But Jake interrupted you with a kiss. 

“You don't have to say it back.” He murmured, lips grazing on yours as he cupped your cheeks, gentle eyes tracing the lines of your mildly swollen face. You still looked stunning. He couldn’t help but sigh, a mix of adoration and longing in his gaze. “I know I caught you off guard. I'm not asking you to love me back right away.” He tilted his head, his eyes filled with an undeniable tenderness – love, devotion, and the kind of affection that made your heart ache. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips, like he was fighting to keep it there. "Just know that I, Jaeyun, love you."

You bit your lower lip, but it didn’t do much to contain your wide grin. The tears, once drenched in sorrow, now filled with uncontrollable happiness, exploding in your chest just like fireworks. With a fear of missing the time, you shook your head still in disbelief, leaning in closer as you whispered.

“I love you too, Jake.”

And just like that, Jake had his lips working on your mouth deliberately, distant from what you normally did together. It seemed he wanted to take his time, heartfeltly exploring and appreciating the attachment of your lips together, as though he was memorizing the taste of you. And it was definitely different.

It tasted like love.

Your tongues swirled in a beautiful languid dance, a rhythm only you two could follow, the kind of connection that felt natural and right, like two halves of a whole, complementary.

Jake’s hands slid down to your nape and waist, pulling you closer, guiding you to sit on his lap where you could feel his warmth radiating into you.

There was no rush, no urgency. There was only raw, honest love between you two – pure and untainted. No distractions. No lust. Just the quiet, steady beat of two hearts that had found each other in a world full of noise.

Jake loved you. You loved Jake. And right at that moment, that was all that mattered.

The car engine sound soothed the silence with a steady hum. The radio played some random song you didn’t bother to pay attention to, not when your head was wandering amidst the chaos happening there. 

Your life was a complete mess and your anxiety bubbling up, not knowing exactly what to expect from that weekend trip.

Yeah, trip.

Just two days ago, Sunghoon showed up at your doorstep holding bags of your favorite food and wearing a pitiful face. You didn’t understand the sudden hug, much less the following waterfall of “I’m sorry’s” he mumbled with a broken voice against your hair while pulling you closer.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know about you and Jake.”

You remember his words vividly, your confused state, your hands now knowing what to do or your brain not fully processing what he just said, because no one actually knew about you and Jake. But your memory made sure not to erase the following addon.

“I unintentionally snitched on you and him.”

Sunghoon stayed the whole night on the verge of crying – and you never saw that man with anything near to glossy eyes, so it seemed to be a real business for him – explaining what happened that night and how Jay found out about your hidden romance with his best friend.

His drunk ass – as he said – went back home way too earlier than both of you expected, and he could have turned a blind eye – ear, in that case – and said nothing if he knew the woman screaming Jake’s name in his bedroom was actually you, and not a random chick – his words.

So he absently texted Jay about it, thinking he was too high on his alcohol trip for hearing your voice screaming Jake’s name, teasing as he said “That would be crazy, right? That girl is really having a good time,” just to get under your brother’s skin as he always did.

However, for his misfortune – and yours –, it was you.

And Sunghoon even showed you the texts, where Jay replied with a brief, simple: “Well. Y/N went to Jake’s to study. Hah.” before turning off his phone and not receiving the next messages Sunghoon sent, trying to ease the situation.

At first you couldn’t help the bitter feeling on the back of your throat as you heard his side of the story, aware of his guilty part on it, nonetheless, to finally have a clarification of what led your relationship with Jay down to shambles was actually relieving, especially when Sunghoon said he had a plan to suggest Jay to go with them in a trip as a way to clear his mind, and then you and Jake would go as well without him knowing, and with everyone together – Heeseung too, since he was part of the friend group – it would be easier to face the problems and wrap it up with a happy ending or whatever.

Sunghoon reassured you that both he and Heeseung were on your side of the story; Jake was a good guy and they trusted him to make you happy. But Sunghoon also understood Jay’s position, since he had sisters, so he could try to help with that part as well.

Everything seemed perfect.

But it didn’t ease your comfort as you drove with Jake towards the destination, not even with his free hand holding yours and kissing the back of it gently every once and while. 

“Are you hungry, my love?”

Your sorrow facade slipped just a little by hearing Jake’s tender words and the cute pet name, still not used to it. 

“A little, yeah. But… I don’t think I can eat right now.”

Though you didn’t see, Jake nodded, knowing better than to try to pursue you out of your stubbornness. Now practically spending entire days with you, he mastered the art of knowing when to push you out of your shell and when not to. That moment you needed silence, comprehension and someone to be there for you just to make sure you were doing fine. 

You couldn’t be more glad for having a man like Jake in your life. 

And quietly, you both wished for that trip to change at least a bit of whatever was going on in Jay’s mind.

So when you both arrived – twenty minutes after the others – and Jake parked his car, you quickly spotted Jay’s blond hair amidst people in the hotel’s lobby. He wore a relaxed face, sitting on one of the couches and happily talking with his friends while they waited for you two.

The makeshift excuse Sunghoon and Heeseung told was that they were all waiting for other two friends they invited from college as well, even naming them as a way to ground the lie. 

Jay didn’t mind waiting for the said people, not at all. But he also didn’t hide his surprised and slightly disgusted face when he saw the actual two friends.

“I’m with you,” Jake muttered close to your ear, holding your hand tightly. “Always.”

You just nodded, feeling the weight on each step you took until you approached them, three pairs of eyes hovering over your presence. 

While Heeseung and Sunghoon happily greeted you both with big, genuine smiles, even hugging you briefly and muttering a quiet “It’s gonna be ok,” Jay, on the other hand, held an unreadable expression. 

“Hey,” you said back, voice coming in a small layered apprehension that didn’t go unnoticed by none of them.

Jay was fighting his inner demons not to cringe after watching you and Jake walking together, side by side like a normal couple, but it was hard when he knew how his friend regularly acted with girls he hooked-up with, how he loved to have a one night type of thing, never really committing. 

You deserved more than just a fleeting pleasant moment. 

They spent a life together as something similar to brothers long enough for Jay to be aware of the consequences of that relationship, the thoughts of you being hurt triggering the worst side of his protectiveness. And to think he would lose his best, closest friend because of that stupidity increased his emotions negatively – he felt betrayed, somehow picturing you both as selfishes who didn’t care about his side in the story.

Jay simply nodded at you both without saying a word, eyes flickering quickly towards your and Jake’s intertwined fingers, taking notice of it. You followed the motion and gulped, unconsciously squeezing your boyfriend’s hand. Jay then drifted his gaze to his friends, a dry laugh escaping his lips.

“Looks like lying to me has become everyone’s favorite pastime lately, hasn’t it?” 

“Come on, bro,” Heeseung shot back swiftly, not tolerating the way he changed behavior after you and Jake joined them. “You’re the one being an ass.”

“Am I?” Jay scoffed and pointed to himself, eyebrows raised skeptically. “I’m not the one fucking my best friend’s sister.”

The tension lingered in the air thickly, the silence immediate and edging the unbearable. You tried to ignore the people around you starting to take notice of the unfolding conversation between your brother and your friends. After all, the tension seemed to be rising and they were growing curious with the subject – your relationship.

Sunghoon was the first to notice the situation and your discomfort, especially as you quietly – and unconsciously – scooched to slightly hide behind Jake as a way to shield yourself from whatever could be thrown at you. At the same time, a spark of anger stirred in the depths of your soul, the same one you struggled to shove back down in order to protect your loved one’s from your possible explosion.

“Let’s not have this conversation here,” Sunghoon muttered and headed to finally make the check-in, the rest of you following him, each carrying their respectives luggages – Jake and you sharing just one that he insisted on holding, but you barely had time to proper acknowledged how hot he looked as he did so. 

The path to the rooms was silent, the tension thickening as all of you stepped into the elevator, avoiding eye contact with one another. Jake noticed your mad grimace – pursed lips, mildly furrowed brows – and positioned himself in front of you, facing you in order to shield any lingering stares Jay might dare to throw your way and to distract you with his puppy eyes that showered you with genuine affection. He gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch soft and tender, grounding you a little, even stealing you a small smile.

After going through a lot during your life with your parents, you had developed an explosive, even destructive, behavior that you struggled to restrain sometimes. It had become second nature to quietly bottle up every single detail of a stressful situation, letting it all pile up until the dam finally burst, and you ended up hurting the people you cared for.

You were terrified of losing it with Jay and consequently splattering on Jake and destabilizing the amazing, reliable relationship you just got in. That fear was precisely why you had been trying to act more reserved, more withdrawn. But Jay wasn’t making it easy for you – not even a little.

Not when he rolled his eyes in the childish way possible as he realized you and Jake were exchanging affection. Not when he was acting like an angry teenager that would prefer to ignore the problem instead of facing it. 

And that was why after leaving the elevator and before you could stop yourself, you let go of Jake’s hand, seizing the moment now that you were somewhere more private. It was still just the hotel corridor, but at least it wasn’t out in public. You turned to Jay and blurted it out.

“Why the fuck are you so mad for?” 

It was clear that Jay was taken aback by your sudden outburst, but you couldn’t care less. The tension in the air was thick as everyone froze in their tracks. Heeseung and Sunghoon exchanged confused glances, unsure of what to do next. Jay’s expression shifted from surprise to something darker as his eyes narrowed at you.

“Y/N, babe, wait–” Jake’s voice was soft, trying to calm you down, but the storm inside you was already raging. He moved to step closer, his hand hovering over your arm, but you pulled away, brushing him off.

“No,” you cut him off as sweetly as possible, raising a hand to stop him. You turned back to face your brother, your eyes flashing with a mix of anger and frustration. “So far, you’ve said whatever came to your mind, now it’s my turn.” 

Your voice dropped to a dangerous low, thick with underlying fury, no one daring to say a word.

“I really don’t get why you’re so mad about me being happy. You always talked about how much you wanted me to find the happiness I deserve, but now that I have it, you act like a damn child!”

Jay’s features sharpened as he clenched his jaw, eyes piercing through you. However, he kept his tone calm, he didn’t raise his voice, never. Not at you.

“Jake is not the happiness you deserve.”

“Woah, hold on…” Jake tilted his head, visibly stunned by Jay’s attack. He looked between you and Jay, trying to process the sudden shift in the conversation. His brows furrowed in confusion, a slight frown tugging at his lips. “Why are you saying this?”

You tried to ignore Jake for a while, really tried. But it was extremely difficult as you took notice of his hurted tone, which triggered even harder your ongoing feelings.

“How the hell do you know that? How can you even say that if you’re not the one in a relationship with him?” Your voice was louder now, sharp, and you felt the heat rise in your chest. Your eyes burned, threatening to spill over with tears, but you refused to let them fall. Not yet.

Jay hesitated for a second, his eyes shifting as if measuring his words carefully, but the frustration in his eyes was evident. He took a deep breath before continuing, his voice quieter now but no less intense.

“I know Jake. I’ve known him long enough to know he could just… leave you.” The words were like a knife, and you flinched.

“I would never–” Jake immediately protested, stepping forward once again, but Jay ignored him, continuing.

“And I don’t want to see my sister get her heart broken by my best friend,” Jay’s voice cracked slightly at the last part, as if he himself didn’t want to believe the possibility, but the fear still lingered in his words.

“Jay–” You started just for him to cut you off, the urgency in his voice building.

“Did you ever even think about my feelings in all of this before it happened?” His eyes were wide now, almost pleading. “No, you didn’t. And now you’re dragging me into something I never asked for.”

“No–” you shot back, voice rising, but before you could say more, Jay’s words came thickly again.

“Did you ever stop to think about what I’d have to deal with the outcome of this shit? To lose my best friend and see my sister broken because of some stupid choice.”

His hands were clenched at his sides, his jaw tense. The more he spoke, the more his control slipped, and you could see the anger building in him, mixed with a deep sense of hurt.

You took a deep breath, like a gasp, holding it in for a moment, before speaking slowly, your voice softening just a little. You were finally walking beside Jay’s line of thought. So that was the reason?

“And why would that be the only possible outcome? Why do you doubt Jake so much?” You paused, blinking back the sting behind your eyes. “He’s sweet. Always so, so sweet and gentle. He cares for me. He loves me, and I love him too.”

As you spoke about Jake, the walls around you lowered just enough to let the raw honesty out. You felt his presence close at your back, his hands resting on your waist lovingly, managing to somewhat anchor you – your heart fluttered, your nerves soothing ever so slightly.

For a split second, you saw Jay’s expression falter. He wasn’t ready for your vulnerability nor your genuine feelings to come out. You could see it in his eyes – the battle between his protectiveness and the fleeting need to understand your and your point of view.

“I did think about you when I accepted Jake’s dating proposal,” you continued, voice growing quieter, but firm. “And I was scared you’d react exactly like this.”

Jay’s mouth opened as if he was going to argue, but the words died on his tongue. For the first time, you saw him hesitate, truly unsure of what to say next. 

His eyes flickered towards Jake, who held an expectant, yet determined expression. He knew Jake wasn’t going to give up so easily, and it was impossible not to see you actually liked, loved each other. WJake positioned himself behind you, close, protective, and somehow loosed Jay’s demeanor, the weight on his shoulders dropping, maybe for realizing his best friend could give you the protection and the love you deserved – the one he was in charge of until now. 

Jay struggled to gulp down his stubbornness; it was his most characteristic feature. However, on the other side of the argument was you, the little sister – now a woman – he cared for and would move mountains for if necessary. 

Would Jake be able to do the same?

“I’m sorry.” He muttered, quiet, eyes lowering to the floor. “I’m so sorry,” he sighed, feeling his cheeks burning in embarrassment. 

You couldn’t hold back your surprised face, not when you expected the conversation to unfold in many possibilities where you would gladly, relentlessly counter each and every argument until you overtired him with your own stubbornness. 

“I– I was stupid. I only thought about myself, and… I mean, you seemed so happy before I found out about you two. I guess that was… because of you, Jake.”

The tears you had been holding back finally spilled over, trailing down your cheeks as you stepped closer to your brother, wrapping your arms around him in a warm, comforting hug. He didn’t hesitate to return it, pulling you firmly against his chest.

“I really care about you, kiddo,” he murmured softly into your hair, his voice tinged with both regret and affection.

You let out a small, breathy laugh, sniffing as you tried to compose yourself. “I know,” you replied, pulling back slightly to look at him. “And I’m glad you do. But now…”

Turning your head, you glanced at Jake over your shoulder – a genuine smile curved his plump lips, radiating relief and happiness. His eyes shone with pure joy, watching the two people he cherished most finally reconcile. For the first time in a while, he looked truly content and not laced with condren.

“I have him caring about me too.”

Jake took the moment to approach you both, intertwining his fingers with yours as you stepped away from your brother. He brought your hand to kiss the back of it sweetly before voicing out. 

“I’ll make her really happy.”

“You better do,” Jay nodded, a small chuckle escaping him. “Just don't… screw this over, Jake. I'm serious,” the subtle change in his tone got you rolling your eyes playfully. 

“I won't,” Jake promptly shot back.

“If you ever break her heart, I'll hunt you down to hell to kill you,” Jay added within a warning voice and Sunghoon, who had been silently observing the exchange, burst out laughing.

“I second that, by the way,” Heeseung chimed in with a smirk and shrugged. 

“No need to worry. If I ever break her heart, I'll kill mys–”

“Shut up.” You cut him off, wrapping your arms around his waist and planting a soft kiss on his cheek, your smile not faltering a bit as the rush of euphoria started to run in your veins.

Jay groaned, shooting the two of you a disgusted look before rubbing his temples as if trying to massage away the stress. It was clear he was struggling to get along with the bitter realization: his little sister, the one he had always felt an overwhelming need to protect, was now sharing intimate affection with his best friend – the very same best friend he knew far too much about, including his past escapades with commitment and… other things.

“And for the love of God,” Jay added with an exasperated sigh. “Do not… Do anything under my roof.”

“Yes, sir,” Jake quipped with a grin, earning another groan from Jay.

You couldn’t hold back your laughter, contentment filling your heart in the most endearing way. Things have been settled in the best way possible.

"Now that we have a room to ourselves…" Jake murmured with a mischievous smirk, wrapping his arms around you from behind, pulling you closer. His lips brushed against the back of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. "And you’ve aced your physics exam…" His breath was warm against your skin, teasing the back of your ear. “And everything is set fine again…”

"And my brother is not overreacting just because I’m sucking your dick…" You couldn’t help but say it out loud within a smirk, relieved.

Jake’s eyes widened in shock, then he gasped, his hands tightening around you to pull you even closer. He laughed.

"That’s... one way of saying it, yeah." He squinted playfully, a smirk still tugging at his lips, the same lips that now pressed soft kisses on your sensitive skin, making you squirm a bit within an unfading smile dancing on your lips. You were really happy. "I’ll take it."

The following atmosphere was full of warmth and ease and for a moment you just stayed there, in the quiet calm of Jake’s arms, enjoying the simple reality of being together, just a quiet love that felt endless.

It took just a second for you to feel something poking you from behind. You hummed.

“Now I understand why you were so excited to get to our room, baby,” you purred, leaning back onto his chest and swinging your hips a little, just to friction Jake’s growing boner. His answer was immediate; a soft moan traveling its way to your ear.

“What?” He feigned innocence, pulling you closer and helping you to move your ass straight on his hardening, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“Quit the act, pretty boy,” you scoffed playfully as you tilted your head back to meet his gaze, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “You're not fooling anyone.”

You met Jake with hooded eyes that locked with your lips for a while before going back up to glaze your orbs, his tempting tongue wetting those beautiful lips you loved to kiss and feel on your skin before he turned you to fully face him, his hands on your hips firm, steady as he pushed you slightly behind until you felt the back of your knees meeting the soft end of the bed. 

In any moment you broke eye contact, nor words were being said while the atmosphere shifted under the soothing realization you could be completely free – with your noises, with your needs, with your relationship. 

You smiled, pulling Jake by his shirt so he could fall on the mattress with you; his lips searched for yours immediately, crashing together into a delightful dance of tongues and mouths, starving each other with a longing of years. You would never get enough of your boyfriend and it felt so good to know the feeling was mutual.

His hands wandered to where you craved his touch most; Jake had become an expert at reading your body, knowing exactly what made you shiver with delight, what brought you to that edge of the pleasant bliss you loved navigating together. But there was a specific subject unspokenly lingering in the air that made him try to move back and bring it to words. 

“You promised me something,” Jake mumbled against your mouth, but you didn’t give much care as you moved further up on the bed, your hands clutching on his neck to pull him with you, lips never parting. “Babe, your pussy–”

You smirked and teasingly shut him up with another torrid kiss, sucking and biting his bottom lip, eliciting a groan that made your cunt pulse and clench around nothing. The grip on your hips tightened and Jake finally parted the kiss, panting a little, his eyes gleaming with lust.

“Babe, you promised,” Jake protested with a whining voice and you couldn’t hold back your laughter, your eyes loaded with love, affection and burning desire drinking from his already messy features.

Jake’s hair was disheveled, a courtesy of your hands that would always tangle it, tugging and playing not only due to its silkiness, but mostly because Jake would moan beautifully into your mouth whenever you pulled a bit stronger, sending jolts of ecstasy through you. 

He had a sweet voice, and his noises sounded even sweeter; as crazy as it sounds, sometimes you wished to sip Jake until he was empty.  

“You’re so cute when you’re asking for my pussy, baby. How do you manage to do that?”

Jake leaned into the touch of your hand cupping his face gently, caressing his reddened and parted lips. His cheeks had a faint flush, half-opened eyes showering you with expectation, dilated pupils pleading, flickering slowly through your face.

“Please, I really need it,” Jake sounded urgent, his breath hitching as he pressed you on the bed with his body weight.

He was quick to dodge your attempt to kiss him again, taunting the wicked game you were building. His tongue traced the curve of your neck, and his lips followed with deliberate, tantalizing kisses – a striking contrast to his current raw desperate state. “Please…” he murmured, the plea thick with longing.

He was trying to nudge you out of your deviousness using your weakness, however, he wasn’t faking at all. Jake was genuinely desperate. “Oh? So it’s a need now? Not just a want?” You teased, your voice dripping with mischief as your eyes fluttered closed.

A sigh followed by a moan escaped you, your body instinctively arching forward as a wave of contentment rippled through your core. Yet Jake kept you firmly in place, pressing you into the mattress with precision, his grip restraining your movements just enough to leave you yearning for more.

“I need and I want, please…” He whispered against your earlobe before nibbling it; you felt his hand sneaking into your shirt nearly at the same time, his fingertips softly brushing your side, making you contract your stomach and try to squirm, but again, Jake was holding you strongly against the bed. “Mhm? Please?” He begged once more within a small, weak breath.

Being so close to your boyfriend always made you thrilled and also loosened. He presented you with the possibility of being yourself freely, a safe haven you didn’t know you needed. The trust you had with Jake was beyond imagination, it was with your entire being among every possible nuance of the wording; there was something about how he managed to always spark an interest of an ongoing desire that fueled your will to keep him near, physically and emotionally.

So when he offered you the prettiest hooded eyes, glistening with the plea he showed through every pore of his, you couldn’t really control the thrum of your heartbeat echoing louder and louder in your eardrums, nor your breath catching in your throat as you felt yourself swoon under Jake’s intense and eager gaze, the need of something he never actually had a taste burning in those pretty two brown orbs. 

Every inch of your skin tingled in anticipation, after all you admittedly – not out loud – longed to feel Jake’s head buried between your legs as much as him. Just with how he managed to kiss you, mouth and tongue working precisely, skilfully on yours had your toes curling, yearning to feel all of that on your cunt. 

“Don’t go quiet on me,” Jake murmured with a pout, one that vanished in seconds as the corner of his lips curled into a smirk. “Not when I wanna hear you screaming my name,” he quietly softened the weight of his body onto yours, giving you the room to move. Your legs instinctively opened. Jake noticed. “Just give me the word, baby.”

Your eyes fluttered close when you felt Jake lowering his kisses to your clavicle and so on, a moan slipping out of your mouth when he twirled his tongue on your hardened still covered nipple, sucking and motioning something you were sure he would be doing in your clit in a few. You just needed to… Allow it. 

“Give me the word and I’ll make you feel so good…” He whispered. Once more, you felt yourself pulsing, your panties with a pool of arousal at that point. “Mhm? Please? You deserve to feel good, baby.”

He glanced up at you, giving you more of what you would experience after you said yes; the eyes looking up, the mouth deliberately and masterfully doing its job of pleasuring you, the hands holding you still.

Your whole body ignited with fervent flames, bursting with desire and an anxious longing to feel everything Jake had silently promised you until that moment. Driven by the maddening need to have him, you finally spoke, with a voice you couldn’t quite properly find as you lost yourself in your imagination.

“Yes, Jake. You can eat me out.”

Jake let out a small groan of contentment, his smile wide and radiant as he positioned himself in between your parted legs and began to remove your jeans with your help. 

“That’s how I like it,” he murmured, biting his lip to hold back the surge of excitement and impatience building inside him. But the hunger to taste your pussy of you had been building for far too long to slow down now. “Good girl.”

There was no doubt Jake would make you feel good, nevertheless you found yourself unable to untense completely under the hot touches he was leaving in your skin as he undressed your bottoms; you felt awkward, especially because it was the official first time Jake was seeing you in such a position. He had fingered you and fucked you countless times, but it was the first time his face got that close to your cunt and you started to worry. To disappoint him after you had so carefully nurtured his hopes with that fleeting promise seemed unbearable.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, your hands grabbing the sheets underneath you as you breathed heavy. Jake noticed your change of demeanor right away and soothed your skin kindly with his palms.  

“Relax, my love. Why are you so tense, mhm?” The question was followed by a tender kiss on your knee and a gentle caress on your other leg. “Talk to me.”

“I don’t know, honestly,” you chuckled nervously, avoiding your boyfriend’s eyes that were trying to read your anxious expression. You were being serious about your lack of knowledge of what exactly triggered your sudden reaction. “I’m afraid of disappointing you, I guess. Does that make sense?”

“No,” Jake was quick to shoot back, a sigh of admiration slipping from his plush lips for finally seeing your cunt revealed before his hungry eyes. Beautiful, he could feel his mouth watering. “You can’t disappoint me, sweet girl.”

“What if I cum too fast?” You asked without giving time to Jake to answer, and he skeptically quirked a brow at you. Did he hear it right? “What if I taste bad? What if you don’t like the feel of it? Or the look of it? What if my smell isn’t that good? What if–” 

You fell silent as you felt Jake’s warm muscle licking your folds, the heat of his touch sending shivers through your heated body, legs trying to close instinctively and your eyes growing wide as you realized he just… Went for it. And he was good.

Just after the long lick, Jake sucked your clit and groaned, as if the pleasure was his, not only yours. He didn’t part the connection, though, continuing to play with your clit and your pussy in random patterns using his tongue and lips, as if he was studying which one you enjoyed the most by the way your moans sounded. 

“J–Jak–Mhm…” A soft murmur mingled with a whimper interrupted whatever you were about to say – and you couldn’t even remember as you drifted your gaze down to catch the sight of Jake’s furrowed brows, deep in concentration and desire as he lost himself in you. 

You brushed away the hair sticking on his lightly sweaty forehead, watching how delighted he seemed to be eating you out; you heard the lewd sounds of slurping and soft smacks imitating a kiss and you deduced he was simply making out with your pussy.

As regular as it was, your fingers tangled into his brown locks, this time urging him closer, pulling him down to you as the longing for more consumed your chest. 

Jake was drunk – and loving each second. Mind blurry, only your pussy and the sweet scent and taste of it occupying the haze inside his brain as he got motivated by the pretty noises you allowed to escape your lips.

He dived into you with fervor, with love. God, he dreamed for too long to waste time with foreplays or whatever, especially when you were that wet already. He could die in between your legs and he would thank you for that. 

The way your breath hitched when he went a bit further and tested to poke your pulsing hole with the tip of his tongue got his eyes glancing up to catch your contorted expression, mouth agape, head throwing back into the pillow. He moaned when you rolled your hips forward, rubbing your pussy on his face just how he wanted to. 

“You’re so fucking good,” you managed to breathe out, your voice shaking between delicate moans.

Jake’s tongue lapped over and over your now dripping pussy, drinking from your juice as if it was his favorite. After cautious inspection, he understood what made you clench shamelessly and was now openly making out with your clit, even so often tongue fucking you within an impressive skill; he also positioned both your legs on his shoulder as way to ease his and your comfort.

The way your body squirmed under his firm grip on your thighs was a feeling Jake wished never to forget, especially how you unconsciously tried to press your legs together, as if it could shield you from the intensity of his touch, though you knew deep down it was futile. 

Jake was addicted to every aspect about you. If he allowed himself a moment of reflection, he might feel a flicker of embarrassment over just how intensely you got him wrapped around your finger.

Your smiles, paired with your playful banter, sent a whirlwind of emotions through his chest, a constant reminder of how effortlessly you matched his provocations with your own sharp wit. Your determination, laced with a stubborn edge, stirred a deep sense of pride within him, filling his heart with admiration for your strength. And your body… it was a masterpiece in his eyes. Every curve, every line felt tailor-made for his hands, his touch, his need to hold you close and never let go.

And now you had permitted him to taste the part he cherished the most in terms of sex. 

Jake didn’t care about how cringe, loser-like or shameful could sound to others, but eating girls out was everything he needed to feel fulfilled when in bed, and now, if the said girl was you, his perfect girlfriend…

“I love you so much,” you heard Jake mumble against your cunt, the slurred words vibrating against your clit brought you back from the lustful fog your mind drew into only to send you back again, a journey you would gladly revisit again whenever possible.

The knot on your lower stomach tightening had your toes curling as you tugged Jake’s hair harder, eliciting a soft moan out of his mouth that got lost in between your wet arousal.

“Mhm, F–Fuck Jake– I’m–”

“Close?” He murmured, though he didn’t expect you to answer. 

Jake was way lost into his own pleasure of satisfying you to think of anything other than your release coating his tongue, and he started to shamelessly, yet slowly rut his hip against the bed as your moans increased, your legs around his shoulder pressing tighter.

“I wan’ you to come all over my face and mouth, doll.” 

The blend of his words and how he started to shake his head to rub the tip of his nose on your clit while lapping your clenching hole got you screaming his name, the waves of shock running through your body within trembles as you had your orgasm. Whimpers and cries would be everything filling the room if it wasn't from Jake slurping noises getting constant with him swallowing every single drop of your climax, driving you through your high.

His big hands held you steady as he finished the job of cleaning you with his tongue, your sensitive bundle of nerves getting brief brushes that got you squirming. Jake then placed a sweet kiss on your clit, diverging from the intensity of the touches seconds ago before he pulled away, leaving you breathless and shaky, but utterly satisfied, with a dumb smile gracing your lips.

Your hooded eyes blinked slowly, tiredly as you panted for air, your whole body relaxed as if you were on the clouds. However, you captured the view of Jake undressing himself even with your slightly blurred vision; his chin and his nose were glistening with his spit and your cum, and when you finally noticed the hardened bulge hidden behind his underwear, you gulped, feeling your body heating up again before that pretty, lascivious sight.

Opposite to what you thought, Jake propped himself near to you, out of the bed still, with a cute smile, endearingly watching you regaining your senses. You didn’t catch the flicker of mischief the puppy eyes showed briefly, though.

“Babe, how about we take a shower, mhm?,” he asked, voice barely above a whisper. With a gentle stroke on your hair, he added. “I think we have a bathtub here, we can take a bath.”

A smirk danced on the corner of your lips as you sat with Jake’s help, your fingers tracing the shape of his covered dick. “But what about you, pretty boy?” 

You watched Jake biting his lip, a habit you loved that made both your heart flutter and your cunt pulse. You were getting worked up again. 

“We can take care of it there, can’t we?” 

His gaze darkened out of the softness he was offering you when you nodded, pulling you to stand up and removing your shirt. Jake’s eyes lingered a bit longer on your now exposed breasts and you felt shy under the intensity of it, so you just leaned forward to cut the staring with a kiss. 

The same kiss that had Jake holding you by the waist and you finding support on his shoulders. The same kiss that Jake used to quietly guide you towards the bathroom. The same kiss that left you breathless as you parted away with a content smile followed by a chuckle because Jake’s fingertips brushed your ribs in a teasing way. 

“Oh, we have to fill it up, though…” You pouted when noticing that the said bathtub was completely empty. 

Once again, you failed to realize Jake had a secret plan by the way his eyes twinkled with wicked intentions, especially because he positioned himself behind you.

“Babe…” His voice dropped an octave when he murmured against your ear, the feeling of his hot body pressing on your back together with his covered cock frictioning against your bare ass got your pussy starting to be wet again. 

“Mhm?” You answered softly, hands covering Jake’s that were now on your boobs, softly massaging 

“Do you trust me?”

The question was simple, the answer even simpler. And yet you found yourself hesitating, a flicker of uncertainty threatening to spark – a fleeting fear of what might unfold. But then, you remembered: it was Jake. Your Jake. The man who had dived headfirst into all your wildest adventures without hesitation, who would never dream of hurting you.

The man of your life.

“Of course I do.”

“Good,” he chuckled softly, a hint of mischief lighting his gaze as he pulled away from the warmth of your embrace, only to strip off the last piece of clothing separating him from you.

You turned on your heels, confused, aiming to ask what the hell was going on, but your eyes dropped to Jake’s big, stiff cock, the tip reddened, glistening with leaking precum in a way that got your knees weak.

“You’re hard,” you breathed out, pointing out the obvious and feeling your body working on automatic as you approached with your hands already moving further closer his length. “And hot. I’d suck you off–”

Jake shushed you with a quick peck, his lips being graced by a small smile. “Shh, come with me.”

He approached the bathtub, opening the water register to fill just the bottom of it before he settled on one of the ends and tapped his lap, urging you to join him.

“Oh?” You tilted your head to the side, a grin growing on your lips as you made your way to your boyfriend, doing as he instructed you so. “What are we doing?”

Your curiosity was driving you wild, yet there was something thrilling in the way Jake sometimes took control of the situation, keeping details scarce and letting slowly you discover things as they got revealed.

Sharing moments with Jake was a treasured part of your life, and you longed to create more special and unique memories with the one you had vowed to love for a lifetime – through every shade and possibilities.

So when he placed you on his lap, facing forward, something similar to as if you were about to ride him, you did nothing to control the excitement fluttering in your chest. Before you said any other word, Jake’s cheeks flustered with a cute tone of crimson and you furrowed your brows, a confused-amused chuckle escaping your lips because you literally had no idea of what was going on.

“Please, ignore what I’m gonna say, because it’s a fucking turn off…” Jake said with a small voice, his whole face contorted into an embarrassed expression as he tightened the grip on your hips.

“Okay…” As unsure as you sounded, still you held your expectations high. The worst that would happen was Jake making you laugh with his goofy ideas and jokes.

“You know that we calculate the velocity of some things in physics, right? Like fluids, and stuff…” You nodded along, not really getting the line of thought, but still allowing him to finish. “I was wondering… Mhm–” He cleared his throat, eyes avoiding yours precisely. You were already giggling, hands caressing his nape.

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to calculate the velocity of your squirt on my dick?”

Though Jake immediately reacted by breaking into a shy laughter and hiding himself cringing on the crook of your neck, you, on the other hand, had to stifle the shocking scoff that caught in your throat upon hearing his filthy, straightforward request, your expression shifting from teasing humored to stunned disbelief. And you felt your pussy clenching right after, because Jake had that fucking effect on you, no matter what. 

“I won’t lie… I was so ready to laugh,” you admitted, voice soft and edged with a dryness that had you swallowing hard, trying to hold the thrill bubbling low in your core.

Your hips rolled ever so slightly, a teasing motion that grazed against Jake’s aching hardness, drawing a guttural groan from him. Your hand held the back of his head, caressing his hair, while the other wandered over his biceps. 

“But, damn, I’m so turned on right now.”

“Thank God you’re perfect.” 

It was the last thing Jake said in between a relieved giggle before kissing your neck and skillfuly maneuvering your body with your help so his aching cock could finally meet the warm embrace of your walls. 

A shaky shared moan echoed through the hollow bathroom walls, your head falling back, your lips parted with a small delighted smile adorning it. Jake bit your neck to muffle his following groan when he finally got himself completely inside of you; he had been hard for so long, ever since he started to think about getting lost in the taste of your pussy, craving some sexual release that only your cunt embracing his length would give him.

“So fucking tight–” He whispered against the slightly bruised skin of your neck, voice cracking at the end when you rolled your hips in a silent plea.

Without a moment of hesitation, Jake lifted you effortlessly by your hips, only to pull you back down with a steady force, guiding you with a rhythmic precision. Your arms instinctively draped over his shoulders, providing the support you needed to move with him, as you both found your pace.

“Kiss–” you breathed, a soft whimper escaping your lips, just as Jake hit a spot that made you tremble. “Kiss me, Jakey–” 

As a natural command, Jake drifted his lips towards yours, his tongue licked your bottom one before sucking it and diving into a passionate, messy kiss, the movements never halting as you drowned into the pool of arousal and lust your boyfriend provided; you could feel Jake everywhere and it was amazing.

He pounded into your g-spot with ease, eliciting the loudest noises from the back of your throat, shamelessly. His hands roamed your ass to squeeze it while guiding your body up and down, the mild slapping sounds ringing in his ears like a beautiful melody. 

“You make me go insane,” Jake whispered, his eyes fluttering close as the euphoria of feeling you that close drifted his senses into an overwhelming experience. 

He felt a faint grin appearing on your lips before you shot back. “And– And do you like it?”

Jake chuckled lightly, a lingering smile following his answer. “I love it.”

Since you had one orgasm already, you felt your next one coming faster than expected, so when you started to involuntarily clench more, together with your whimpers of Jake’s name and curses amplified louder, Jake took a close notice to start rubbing circles on your clit with one hand, wishing you could keep on holding the position practically by yourself for a bit longer – he wanted you to do a bit more than cumming, after all.

“Close… ‘M close–” You whined, body jolting forward and your head falling back once more, the grip from your arms on Jake’s shoulders tightening as you partially hugged him. 

Jake drank in the sight of you rolling your eyes close and your hips uncontrollably grinding and bouncing and doing whatever would make you achieve your climax – so fucking beautiful. It made his dick throb in despair for the same release, but he wanted so bad to feel you squirting on him. So he gathered strength from the depths of his self-control not to cum, even after you creamed his shaft with your warm liquid. Even after your squeeze grew unbearably good.

“Fuck, babe…” 

“Jak– Jake– Sensitive,” you whispered when Jake didn’t stop drawing circles on your clit, momentarily forgetting he had a different plan as you struggled to squirm away. “Jake, mhm–” 

Jake shook his head as if telling you no, maintaining his dick buried deep into you as he focused solely on your swollen bundle of nerves. If you paid enough attention you would feel his mischievous smile creeping on the corner of his lips grazing on your cheek.

With your eyes fluttering open to try and look at your boyfriend, the overestimation teetered the edge of madness; overwhelming at it most, you whined pleas of despair for Jake to stop, though you didn’t actually want him to.

Jake groaned when your nails scratched his back, your whole body trembling, shaking to escape the painful, yet delicious feeling of Jake driving you faster towards an inexperienced field for you.

You never actually squirted, but as soon as you reminded yourself that it was Jake's desire, you wished to give it to him as much as you wanted for yourself. Pleasuring Jake would always pleasure you as well.

“It’s gonna feel so good, doll,” Jake cooed, holding you closer, keeping you steady. “Hang in there, just a little, yeah?”

“Can’t–” You shook your head, feeling a weird feeling creeping inside you. “Can’t Jakey–”

“Yes you can,” his voice was low, soft even, though breathless. Jake was trying his best to navigate you precisely to where he wanted you to arrive. “You’re my good girl, aren’t you?”

“Mhm– Fuck, Jake–” You screamed his name. “Yes, ’m yours. All yours.”

The excruciating pressure on your core felt like a glazing fire, scorching every inch of you as if it were igniting something deep inside, something new, strange. It was a fiery ache, relentless and consuming, making it almost impossible to think of anything but the heat that pulsed through you, demanding attention. The sensation grew more intense with every movement, every touch, every deliberate open-mouth kiss Jake deposited on your neck. You couldn’t decide if you wanted it to stop or if you wanted it to go on forever. 

“It’s burning– Jake–” You sounded urgent, not exactly knowing why.  

“Let it go, doll,” Jake murmured on your earlobe. “For me, yeah?”

And so you did, moaning, exclaiming Jake’s name like a mantra, like he was the only thing carved into your soul, the only thing crossing your mind. You felt like Jake entered you completely as a flush of fluids squirted from your pulsing, abused cunt.

At the same time, Jake had his own body trembling, his abs tensing as he came undone; not even a movement, not even a roll of hips, just the indescribable feeling of your juices flowing freely down his length and your walls clenching got him filling you to the brim with his release.

A wave of soft moans slipped from your lips, each one rising like a gentle hiss. Your mind was blank. Your body, numb. You felt everything and nothing at the same time. At some point you questioned if you had died – and if you did, it would be an amazing death.

But then Jake’s honeyed, broken voice brought you back from your trance. 

“I’m still coming,” and he so fucking was; it was a different feeling from the other times, if you forced yourself to think coherently, you would realize Jake had never come that hard. 

“I’m weird,” you mumbled, body softening against your boyfriend’s strong grip. He held you steady in his arms, supporting you with care. “Can’t feel my legs… Or my body…”

You heard Jake laughing a little in between pants, his noises sounding distant while your eyes began to slowly close, your body relaxing into that blur of tiredness that took over in seconds.

“I’ve got you, my love.” Jake kissed your cheek. “You did amazing. Thank you.”

With tender touches and gentle caresses, Jake cleaned both of you, making sure you were comfortable and not getting any type of extra stimulation as he did so. Through soft murmurs of reassuring words, he praised your work and thanked you for allowing him to pleasure you. As he always did.

Jake loved you with genuine affection. It never felt forced, nor did it ever seem like something he had to prove. It was simply there, effortless, constant, and profound. His love lived in the smallest gestures and the proudest compliments he would gush about, and you couldn’t feel more grateful for living in a relationship where the caring was mutual, because you cherished Jake just as much. 

You were finally at peace, in a comfortable relationship with Jake, knowing there would be no more lies between you and your brother. It was soothing to be able to sink into the warm embrace of your boyfriend without worrying about interruptions, or how quickly you would have to throw on clothes and present yourself as presentable as possible, hiding the remnants of your burning passion behind fake smiles and lame excuses.

Jake had a scent of home, of love. And it felt so, so good to love him without restraint, to kiss him without fear, to feel a sense of completeness as he fit perfectly in a special place in your chest.

“Y’know, I was just thinking…”

Jake’s voice filled the quietness of the room. He had put you in a comfortable set of clothes and laid on the bed with you, your body curled cozily against his chest, his soft heartbeats soothing your senses.

“We complement each other pretty well.”

“How so?”

Your ask came as silent as his. Jake caught himself thinking deeply, snuggling you closer as he did so. 

“Mhm… I lean towards physics and you’re into art,” you nodded along, casually drawing random shapes on his bare torso. 

The softness of his tone vibrated through his chest like a sweet lullaby. You sighed. 

“I feel like you’re more rational than I am… You’re always so, so determined and adorably stubborn until you get what you want… And I’m kinda lazy, not gonna lie.” 

“That’s true,” you smirked, raising your head briefly just to shoot a teasing glance. Jake chuckled, rolling his eyes before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head as you nestled back against him.

“We always find a way to please each other, in every sense,” he continued and you couldn’t help the warm flushing from your neck to your face, shyly shifting to hide yourself on his neck. Jake giggled, caressing your back. “And I always feel complete when I’m with you.”

Pulling back slightly, you searched those two mesmerizing eyes, brimming with tenderness and care. With love. Jake was a beautiful masterpiece, worthy of endless admiration you would willingly give, because you loved him just as much. 

“I agree,” you whispered, caressing his cheek. “We’re like pieces of a puzzle, fitting perfectly.”

“Exactly,” Jake breathed out, his eyes fluttering closed as tranquility washed over him after you pressed a tender kiss on his lips just to get cozy again against his torso. “We’re complementary, babe.”

BONUS SCENE

"Well, well… If it isn’t the cutest couple..." Sunghoon greeted you both with a teasing tone as you approached the table.

The weekend trip was nearing its end, and that was the last meal the five of you would share at the hotel. It was a simple yet cozy dinner, the kind that felt more meaningful because of the company. A table set with exactly five seats, ready to accommodate all of you.

Jake responded to Sunghoon’s comment with a playful smack to the back of his neck before you both took your seats; Heeseung settled on your right, Sunghoon next to Jake, and Jay directly across from you.

“The cutest and the freakiest, too. Jesus Christ.” Heeseung muttered just loud enough for you and Jake to hear. Instinctively, your eyes darted up to catch the displeased scowl on your brother’s face. “Please, never put me next to their room again.”

“The choice was either you or Jay, so…” Sunghoon shrugged like it was the most obvious thing in the world, though it didn’t stop Heeseung from glaring at him.

“And you weren’t an option?”

“Of course not. My trip, my rules. You should be grateful I even got you a solo room.”

“Oh, right, because between hearing Y/N scream Jake’s name and–”

“For God’s sake, dude,” Jake interrupted immediately, his voice sharp but laced with embarrassment.

Your cheeks burned fiercely as you sank into your chair, crawling Jake’s arm as if your life depended on it, trying desperately to avoid looking at Jay – or anyone else. But from the corner of your eye, you caught him massaging his temples with one hand, the other lifting his glass of wine to his lips as if he needed a moment away from the conversation.

“Am I wrong, though?” Heeseung arched an eyebrow and looked directly at you, who were now sipping your drink, still curled against Jake who held you by your shoulder. “I bet you were having a good time in the bathroom.”

Jake couldn’t suppress the sudden snort of laughter that escaped him when seeing you and Jay choking, each with your own drinks, together. On the other hand, Sunghoon shamelessly burst into a loud, noisy laugh, clapping his hands and throwing his head back as if it was the funniest thing he had ever witnessed.

“Oh, man, this is gold,” he managed to say, eyes flickering in between your mortified expression and Jay’s mad grimace.

You coughed into your napkin, one that Jake handed to you gently, holding back his own wanting to laugh at it too, your cheeks blazing hot. 

“Heeseung, I swear to God, if you–”

“Relax, Y/N. I won’t tell about how hard–”

“Ok. Shut up, dude,” Jake interrupted sharply again, though his voice carried a mix of amusement and shyness. He gave you a reassuring squeeze, his fingers lightly brushing against your arm, anchoring you away from their teasing.

Jay, however, wasn’t laughing. Not at all. He wiped his mouth with a napkin, his expression tense as he shot Heeseung a glare that could cut through steel.

“Some of us don’t need a visualization of whatever happened in that room. Thank you.”

Heeseung rolled his eyes, which shone with amusement, matching perfectly with his playful grin.

“Come on, Jay. It’s all in good fun,” Heeseung replied, waving off the tension with a careless flick of his hand. “We all know they’re just very passionate. Isn’t that right?”

“Oh, God.” You groaned, burying our face in your hands, feeling Jake giggling by the way his body trembled against yours. “I hate all of you. So much.”

The mortification flooded your senses, an urge to run away from their playful banter because you didn’t know where else to hide. However, the same subject being treated with jokes and laughter eased your fear of Jay turning back on his decision of supporting you and Jake.

“Even me?” Your boyfriend asked, kindly grabbing your chin to lean your head upwards to face him. He had a feigned pouty expression, one that elicited a giggle from you right away.

You shook your head. “No, baby, never you.”

And just at the moment your lips touched Jake’s into a sweet gesture, you heard your brother’s voice.

“Am I that ass of a brother to deserve this level of pain and torture?” Jay muttered, his voice dripping with exaggerated exasperation.

You and Jake giggled in between the kiss, parting ways as you bit your lip and shot a fake annoyed glance at Jay – comfort now settling your nerves, as you noticed he was trying to be as nonchalant as possible.

“Maybe?” You teased, your tone playful as you tilted your head. Jay rolled his eyes, but the small smile dancing on his lips didn’t deny he was starting to accept your relationship.

“Whatever, kiddo.”

taglist 💖: @yvnempire, @marigold-sunflowers, @ikeuverse, @taeminsboogers, @4wkjun, @wiccangirl29, @guapgoddees, @manuosorioh, @zkg2318, @m3wkledreamy, @jakeswifeyyy, @love4hee, @missychief1404, @thlrstae, @jaems-left-toe

(the ones in bold text i couldn't tag!)

[capsi-cuminme]

Blowing Off Steam

summary: in which you're very stressed, and sparring is the only way you can destress. you're having trouble finding a partner though, so logan volunteers to help.

pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader

word count: 1.7k

warnings: mild swearing, fingering, some dirty talk, lots of horny thoughts, 18+ MDNI

author's note: ahhhh sweaty logan on a fighting mat is all i need. anyways, thank you guys sm for the response on my other fic, as a gift i bring you smut ;)

•──✦──•

You’re stressed. You’ve been overworking yourself, you know it, and you need to relax, destress. Your body feels wound up with tension and energy, and you’re unable to release it. It’s not like you have super complicated abilities that mess with your mind and make you lose your shit, no - that’s Jean’s set of troubles, not yours. Your ability is simple enough - super strength. 

So what is it that isn’t simple then? Right. Someone you can actually truly train with and exert yourself out with. There aren’t a load of people who can physically keep up with your strength, not except Colossus, and even he’s just a kid. So when, at times, you want to blow some steam by training, you have next to no one to do it with. 

Or, you didn’t, not until Logan came along. You’ve sparred with him a couple of times, but only for excessively short periods of time, due to you not being able to keep your shit together because of his overwhelming attractiveness. Honestly, you don’t think it’s your fault that you’re unable to focus; his arms look like he could rip apart logs of wood with them, his shoulders are so wide that they’re practically made for people to rest their ankles on, and his demeanor - his understated, wolfish demeanor makes you go insane. 

And as if all these things weren’t bad enough on their own, they tend to get exponentially exemplified whenever you guys spar. Obviously, fighting makes him breathe hard and stuff. So your life becomes even tougher. 

Really, you aren’t trying to be horny around him all the time. But that’s the thing. You’re pent up, stressed, overworked. Being a member of the X-Men means that it gets really hard to get laid due to several factors, and then when your coworkers are so hot? God help you. 

As you sit on the gym’s bench, staring at the sparring mats, you strain your mind to think of someone to spar with. You could ask Colossus, the kid’s always more than ready and could give you some competition on one of your bad days. But there’s too much of a risk. You’re already restless with energy, itching to let yourself go; in case the kid isn’t prepared or you get too excited, you’d end up hurting him, which is something you can’t risk. 

You could maybe go to Ororo and Scott, ask them to come at you together? The two of them together would successfully tire you out. Maybe they’d become a bit more than you’re mentally willing to handle. You don’t want to have to strategise at every step. 

God, you just need someone who can handle whatever you throw at them without having to think too much. Unfortunately for you, there’s only one person in the mansion who can do that. 

“Oh hey Bub, what you doing here? Got no classes to teach?” The somehow smooth but gravelly voice breaks you out of your train of thought as you turn to look at Logan, entering the gymnasium. 

Internally rejoicing at his choice of clothes - the white wifebeater under the oversized jacket - while simultaneously praying that he isn’t here to stay, you get up from your seat to speak to him. “Oh, nothing much. Just wanted to blow off some steam.”

“And you’re blowing off steam by… sitting on the bench?” He raises an eyebrow, looking at you questioningly. 

You sigh through your nose, smiling exhaustedly. “No, genius. I was confused about what I should do to destress.”

Your prayers go down the drain as you notice his eyes light up at the prospect of a sparring partner. Nodding to the mats, he asks, “You wanna go?”

Tongue in cheek, you review your options for a moment. Go to bed frustrated and stressed, or fight an extremely attractive man who’s also able to keep up with you. 

“Sure, let’s go.” 

And that’s how you find yourself attempting to elbow Logan in the face. He dodges and takes a step back, but not too far. Turning, you see the grin etched on his face. Taking it as a challenge, you feign a movement to the right, but attack from the left. Your arm aims for his face, but he deflects it by pushing your momentum to one side, stepping away and behind you and putting you into a headlock.

“What’s up?” he murmurs into your ear. “Can’t figure out what to do? Are you really that tired, huh?” 

You felt his chest heave from behind you, his warm breath tickling your ear. Body humming with excitement and mind buzzing with the thrill of finally being in an equal match, you grit your jaw, throwing your head back against his. As much as you enjoy the tone of his voice, you hope it hits him in the mouth just so he can shut up, because being aroused is not something you’re looking forward to. 

Yes you’re horny, maybe even a little perverted, but you truly don’t have any ulterior motives. 

Logan hisses as his grip on you loosens. Shimmying your way out of his grip, you lunge at him, arms ready to swing, but instead of throwing a punch when you get near, you use your leg to swipe at his legs, resulting in him landing on his back.

Silently rejoicing, you straddle him, pulling your arm back to land a punch on his jaw, but unfortunately he grabs hold of your arms before you can do that. As a result, you’re left heaving on top of him, arms immobile, face right above his. You don’t miss the way he breathes, sweat trickling down his forehead, eyes glinting with something you can’t fully identify. You also don’t miss the dampness of your underwear, the electricity you feel where you’re sitting on him. You realize you’re playing a dangerous game. Just as you’re about to make a move to get up, Logan suddenly moves you by the grip he has on your arms, slamming you onto the mats with considerable force. He looms on top of you, looking down. You squeak in indignant surprise, but he pins your arms on both sides of your face, lodging his thigh between yours. You gasp, not expecting the sudden escalation of events. “Darling, you know I’ve got a heightened sense of smell, right?” he asks, drawling. “I can smell your arousal, practically feel how you’re soaking down there.” Eyes wide and mouth agape, you stare up at him, not sure what to say, how to apologize. “Logan, I- I’m sor-” “Don’t have to say a word, Darling, I’m the same as you,” he emphasizes his point by rolling his hips against yours. You whimper quietly, feeling his erection pressing against your clit. “If I’m not interpreting this correctly, you can stop me,” he hums, getting closer to your face. Waiting for your approval, he looks at you. You close the distance between the both of you, borderline moaning as you feel his tongue grazing against your lips, asking to enter your mouth. More than willing, you grant him entry freely, whimpering as his tongue explores your mouth. You break the kiss, short of breath, but your distance doesn’t last long. Logan is sloppily making out with you as he grinds against you. Your bodies move hurriedly, in urgent need of release. 

“Lo,” you gasp between the kisses, “need you so bad, please.” He complies, hands leaving your arms as he gets on his haunches and quickly unbuttons your pants, pulling them down. His hand moves to your pussy, thumb pressing against your clit, gauging your reaction. Your eyes widen due to the unexpected movement, and you gasp. Satisfied with your response, he rubs short, quick circles against your clit, stimulating you as he slowly pushes in one finger. You moan, hands reaching down to stop the sudden intrusion. It’s been a while since you’ve done this, so your body’s sensitivity is at an all-time high. Logan doesn’t care, swatting away your hands, slipping in another finger. He moves them in shallow thrusts, stretching you out while looking for the spot that’ll finally get you wound up enough for his liking. You bite your lip to keep yourself silent, staring at the way Lo’s fingers pump in and out of you, making a mess out of your cunt. Suddenly, his fingers press into that spot that you’re never quite able to reach yourself, making you let out a loud moan. “Lo, Lo please, right there please, don’t stop-” you break your own voice off with an even louder whimper, eyes closing due to the pleasure. Logan watches you with keen eyes trained on your face. He speeds up his fingers and thumb, enjoying your reaction thoroughly, as it ignites something deep within him. He palms himself lightly, hissing as he realizes how hard he is. “Shit, darling, you make me insane,” he mumbles, guiding one of your hands to the bulge in his jeans, making you feel him. Your mouth falls open with a little “oh,” as you feel him. You try to palm him to relieve some of his tension, but fail as his fingers pump in and out of you, driving you closer and closer to the edge. “O- oh God, Lo, I’m cumming, please please please-” you moan loudly as your orgasm crashes over you, thrashing on the mat. Logan holds down your hips, continuing his languid movements, easing you out of the feeling in waves. As you finally relax, catching your breath, you look up at him, unsure of what comes next. Usually by this point, guys tended to take their own pants off. Logan’s were still very much on. Before you could verbalize your confusion, he speaks. “I think we’ve blown enough steam off in the gym,” he chuckles. “I don’t want Charles to gim’me looks the entire month. I say we take this upstairs bub, what d’ya say?”

You stare up at him, wondering why he’s even asking, when there’s only one possible answer you could make out through the haziness of your mind. “Yes, let’s go.”

[mrsbarnesblog]

my girl

masterlist

requests are open

summary: even if you knew that you and Rafe were just hooking up, hearing his friend's comments about you, while you were preparing a venue for the event, hurt more than you expected it to

word count: 2k.

warnings: fwb (or smth like that) to lovers, mentions of sex but nothing explicit, Rafe's friends lol, swearing

a/n: soft Rafe is my weakness, I'm sorry. he's on my mind 24/7 and I literally don't know what to write

You were running around the outdoor venue with boxes full of pastry, where in a few hours there was going to be an annual celebration with lots of rich people. For some reason, Ward Cameron, who was paying for everything here, decided that your father’s small bakery was good enough to feed all of the kooks, so from the afternoon on, you were organizing tables to make everything look perfect. 

The place itself looked truly magical—decorated with a lot of flower arrangements, lights and expensive furniture. It was located at Figure 8, so you obviously never had the opportunity to visit it before. It was Kook’s territory, and even with your family’s bakery, which was pretty popular on the island, you were not welcome here.

Just a few minutes ago, Ward himself came to the venue with Rafe and his son’s best friends in order to check how everything was going. 

As soon as your eyes met Rafe’s, you both stopped for a few seconds, too shocked to see each other in a public place. What happened between you and Kook's prince was something that you had never expected to get into, yet here you were. 

You didn’t know what got into you that one night, but out of nowhere, Rafe was talking to you, smiling, looking all sexy and without his usual cockiness, so you couldn’t resist him. 

It wasn’t that you even regretted your decision; it just became more weird every single time you met because he wasn’t bad. Rafe Cameron wasn’t an asshole, which everyone made him seem to be. He was affectionate and surprisingly soft, always checking on you while you two were together and never pressuring you to leave. You wholeheartedly had to admit that it became more than just sex after a few weeks, no matter how hard you tried to deny it. 

You were definitely not dating, mostly because he had never asked you to, but you two were always texting about random stuff, he would even pick you up to hang out at his secret spot on the beach, or just to simply sit in his truck with lots of food and talk. Part of you hated it, but Rafe made you feel so comfortable and safe around him so you were scared to push it and ask him what was happening between you. 

Rafe’s eyes stayed fixated on you as his father, Kelce and Topper stood near him, looking around the venue and chatting. But he could not care less about it because his entire attention was drawn to you and how adorable you looked in your pink tennis skirt and simple white polo with the bakery's logo on it. 

He may or may not be responsible for Ward’s choice of bakery to work with, because Rafe made sure to accidentally mention it a few times, knowing that it would be a good profit for your family. Yet, seeing you here slightly took him off guard, as the first thought that appeared in his head was to go up to you, flirt and make you blush, or just simply kiss you. But he couldn’t, right? At least not until he properly talked to you. 

“Damn, she’s hot, even for a pogue. No wonder you hit it a few times, bro. I'd do it too.” The moment words left Topper’s mouth, Rafe’s heart dropped into his stomach. Kelce snickered, fistbumping Topper, and Rafe cursed himself for running his mouth. He really considered drowning his friends in the nearest lake. 

“Shut your fucking mouth.” Rafe seethed through gritted teeth, elbowing his friend. 

“I would appreciate you both watching your language.” Ward sighed, wincing and rubbing a hand on his beard. He looked at Rafe, who completely ignored his questioning gaze while trying to figure out how to fix it. 

Even with you standing with your back facing them, Rafe saw that you heard it too. Your hand froze in the air, still holding a cupcake, and your shoulders sagged in disappointment and hurt.

Only a few seconds later, you came back to your senses. Your back straightened, you finished decorating the table and you put empty boxes in the trash can. You turned around, showing the fakest smile Rafe had ever seen on your face. Your nails digged in your palm to control yourself, and you stepped closer to the four of them. 

“Mr. Cameron, thank you for working with our bakery. It really means a lot for my family. I did everything and now the event manager should carry on. I, um, should go. I have a lot of stuff to do. Have a great night.” Your eyes were glossy, with tears clearly visible on your waterline. As you awkwardly and in a rush thanked Ward, you didn’t even look at Rafe or either of his friends, knowing damn well that it would break you. 

You didn’t even wait for Ward’s response before storming off, trying to get as far away from these people as possible. Your chest felt too heavy, and the lump in your throat was so hard that you could barely speak. But you didn’t even walk a few feet away before a familiar hand wrapped around your wrist and made you turn around. 

“What do you want from me?” You snapped at Rafe, trying to yank your hand out of his grip. “Don’t touch me, Rafe.”

“This is not what you think it is.” He said, searching for your eyes. His brows were knit together, and his eyes were big and round, almost in fear. 

“Oh no? Isn’t it what I am to you? Just a hit. Just another one on your long list. Why are you bothering to explain anything to me anyway?” You laughed, barely able to hold back your tears. As if it were not enough that you cried in front of Rafe, neither his friends nor his father seemed to mind their own business, obviously listening to your conversation. 

“No. You know that it was more for me, Y/N. I’m serious about you, okay? Topper just cannot filter his fucking mouth.” 

“Stop doing it, Rafe!” You broke, not bothering to hide anymore. “Stop playing with my feelings when you know damn well that you won’t have anything serious with me. I’m not rich, I’m not a kook and I’m not like the prefect girls you usually hang out with. I get it, okay?” You yanked your hand out of his hold, not missing the way Rafe tried to catch it back. Wiping away hot and angry tears with the back of your hand, you look him right in the eyes. “I just wish you didn't give me hope in the first place, because I feel so fucking stupid.” 

“You’re not stupid, Y/N. I don’t care about your money or your status, for that matter. I want you and I mean it. Just let me explain—”

"This is why you would not even speak to me in front of anyone, right? This is why we were always sneaking around. Because you want me, not because you’re too good to be around me.“ You confronted him, not even caring who could hear or see you. From the position where you were standing, you saw a bunch of young waitresses standing not so far away, pretending to work on the table but eyeing you and Rafe every second.

“I’m an asshole. I know it. I know that I didn’t put the label on us and that I fucked up, not doing the right thing.” He stepped closer to you, not breaking eye contact to show that he was sincere. "When Topper and Kelce saw me with you, I panicked and said the only thing that made sense: we were just hooking up. I didn’t want it to be that way, fuck…” Rafe screched the back of his neck in agitation.

“You should go back and stop embarrassing yourself talking with a pogue. I bet your friends found it entertaining. How much did you tell them, hm? Did you share every single detail of what we were doing?” Your voice broke at the end.

“I didn’t tell them anything!”

“Well, I don’t believe you, Rafe!” You sniffed, looking away to distract yourself from the look in Rafe’s eyes. His blue eyes were round, full of concern and it seemed like he was almost panicking. "I understand how guys like you talk about women, but I guess I was stupid enough to believe you would not do that to me. So yeah, you got what you wanted from me and now you can go back to—”

You were rumbling one moment, and the next, two hands pressed on your cheeks, tilting your head up, and Rafe's lips were on yours. You gasped, hands freezing in the air in shock, before slowly moving to Rafe’s shirt to tug on it. 

He didn’t rush; he just firmly yet gently held you against him while his tongue slipped into your mouth, savoiring every second. It’s been just two days since you last seen each other, but God, you missed kissing him. Even if you wanted to move away, you couldn’t. Rafe's palms were on your face, guiding you, while his kiss made your head feel empty and light. He smelled and tasted so good and you hated how quickly you got used to the feeling of his touch on your skin. 

“Everyone can see us.” You mumbled into his mouth. 

“I don’t fucking care, Y/N.” He furrowed, still feeling the wetness on your cheeks from crying. With his thumbs gently rubbing your soft skin, he gave you a few quick kisses before continuing. "I swear, all I said to them was that we just hooked up, because it is what it was at that moment. I wouldn’t have shared anything intimate about you, baby. Please believe me when I say this.” Rafe sighed, resting his forehead on yours. His nose bumped against your—something that he started doing when you were alone in the bed, laying face to face and just looking at each other. "I am sorry I made you feel like you were just sex for me, because you weren't. Spending time with you was the best fucking time of my day, and whatever that was between us, I don’t want it to end.”

“Me neither…” You whispered, feeling warmth rushing through your body when Rafe wrapped his hands around your waist and pulled you even closer into him. He placed a kiss on the top of your head and then you felt him turning around, seemingly studying people around you.

“Since everyone saw us today, do you think I can take you away with me right now?” 

“Take me away? But you have an event in a few hours, and I have to work.”

“No, now we have an event and we have to find you a dress. I’ll handle your work and find someone who can deliver your orders.” Your head snapped up, only to see a proud grin on Rafe's face.

“You’re joking, right?” You pulled away, laughing. “I don’t have such clothes nor do I have money to buy them, and I definitely wasn’t invited.” 

“That’s why I’m taking you to the store now. And since you are my girl now, you’ll be my plus one.” He just shrugged, probably unaware that he had just filled your stomach with freaking butterflies. 

“I’m your girl?” 

Rafe silently looked you in the eyes for a few seconds, and it seemed like he was trying to reassure himself about something. His eyes then shifted to your lips, as he dragged you back to his body, lowering himself to mumble against your mouth. “Yeah, you are my girl.”

[zyafics]

HIII!!! I love ur writing sm <3 If you're taking requests, I was wondering if you could do one about a reporter reader who used to date Rafe but they broke up and now she has to interview him??? Set in college if possible! Thank you so much! I hope you're having a good day 🥰

hi baby! yes, i do take requests and i absolutely love this one 🥰 i made reader work for a network company but she's still in college and he plays basketball! (but fair warning, i know absolutely nothing about basketball so if i got the terminologies wrong, look away!!) i hope you enjoy <3 this is angsty as fuck

ALL FOR THE GAME | Rafe Cameron

MASTERLIST (Oneshot) | College Basketball Player x Ex!Reporter!Female Reader .ᐟ

Content — college au, athlete/reporter, prior breakup, heavy angst, hurt/no comfort

Word Count — 4.2K

You couldn't believe it.

It's considered lucky. For someone in your position—having received this entry-level job a couple of weeks ago—to have the opportunity to interview an athlete. In fact, many people would call it a great honor.

And it is. Under normal circumstances, you would be more than happy to oblige—elated, even—because people at this stage in your career rarely get such an opening. Especially since you're in college, fully prepared for this internship to be nothing more than grunt work.

Yet, this? This would allow you to advance your career at an expedited rate only offered to nepotism. You should be thrilled, overcome with joy, jumping at your feet and thanking whatever deity you believed in for such a chance.

But you don't.

Because the person to interview is Rafe.

Rafe Cameron, the top prospect of the NBA draft picks.

Rafe Cameron, your ex-boyfriend.

Your boss waits for an answer. He proposed the question a few moments ago, about covering the press conference for the last game of the season. Because of a sick reporter who called out at the last minute, your objective is to build a profile on Rafe Cameron. Since he's the leading prospect, with scouts all over the country looking at him, many people want to know more about the rising all-star who's done nothing but dominate the court.

This proposal, however, was done more out of common courtesy. No one would be stupid enough to say no, and when your boss raises a brow, signifying his manifesting annoyance from your silence and lack of celebratory cheers—you stammer.

"Um, um," you say.

"Um, what?" He prompts. "Will you be doing it or not?"

You shouldn't. There are many reasons why you shouldn't attend Rafe's basketball games. There's resentment because when you step back into that arena, back onto that court, you're reminded of how Rafe picked it over you. There's lingering sadness, residing heavily against the back of your heart, dulled from the passage of time, but not completely forgotten. And lastly, there's anger, because sometimes, all you want to do is scream, cry, and yell at the man who shattered your heart into a billion different pieces.

But that doesn't matter, does it?

Romance has no place in a reporter's life because you're nothing more but a projection for the audience, a vessel for the readers to learn about something else. You don't have feelings; you're a prop. And, certainly, it doesn't matter to your boss, who's only asking you because you're the last choice.

"Well?"

Seconds away from retracting the offer, something in your chest tightens. Logically, you know the choice to make. But your heart doesn't agree. It still hurts, aches, and burns at all of the past memories. It wants nothing more than to bury itself in a hole and pretend that such a critical part of your history does not exist.

But you can't. Life only moves forward. So, all you do is move with it.

"I'll do it."

By the time you arrive at the stadium, all you want to do is run. Anxiety pricks at your spine and your palms grow clammy by your side. Everything inside you is blaring like a warning, cautioning that this is a mistake, that you aren't ready, and that you should turn back.

Despite the badge dangling around your neck, you almost listen. Put your career on hold for a man who hasn't given a single thought about you since the breakup. You can't let him win, and with that reminder, you move with the mob, flocking to their seats.

The atmosphere is charged with exhilaration, and you're reminded of everything before. It's automatic. How easy it is for you to return to old patterns, to follow them, and to find yourself trickling down the steps and towards the courtside seats reserved for family and friends of the team.

Until a hand is placed on your lower back, and a security guard guides you to the press box instead.

It's quieter. The enclosure of the room dulls the energy of the crowd, with a thick sheet of glass separating you from the rest of the people, and reminding you of your purpose.

You take a seat on a cushioned chair, reserved for your network, and look around the place. You're among the most seasoned reporters in their field, chatting with one another, familiarity engulfing the air that somewhat alienates you. They pay you little mind—saved for a curious-yet-judgmental glance at how you wore a jersey compared to their formal suits and pencil skirts. When you follow their line of vision, you realize it wasn't an ordinary merch of the UNC team but Rafe's.

"Fuck," you mumble. You hadn't realized you picked out his jersey; it was left in the back of your closet and you couldn't see yourself attending your college's game without a visual form of support. This probably appears to the rest of the journalists that you're nothing more than a superfan who managed to weasel their way into their network.

It makes your stomach flips with nausea. You want to separate Rafe from you as much as possible, and with a quick run to the bathroom, you change out of the merch and throw it over your tote, straightening out your blouse underneath. When you return, the players are slowly filling out to court.

The visitors' team enters first; UNC follows. You count each player that exits the locker room, watching their expressions as they grin and absorb the energy of their home stadium, as they walk down the length of the bench, as they talk among themselves and share playful jests and banter. You didn't even know you were holding your breath until Rafe stepped out last, to the loudest cheer of the crowd, with a solemn look on his face.

You watch as Rafe searches the stands. Not in the same manner as his teammates, where they're acknowledging fans, or sending flirtatious winks to pretty girls sitting front row. It's different— with purpose. He's searching for something—someone—and your heart clenches in your chest at the thought of Rafe having found your replacement.

But it's been months, hasn't it? It should be more than fair game for him to date whatever he wants. You can still act professionally with this developing news, but it's striking down at your armor.

However, whoever he's looking for, he doesn't find. Rafe goes to huddle with the rest of his team as their Coach gives a final motivational speech before releasing them.

The game starts with a tip-off, and once the referee throws the ball in the air, Rafe takes it into his possession.

He sprints across the court, slicing through the opponent players, and scoring points on the board. Rafe is powerful, knowing exactly when to exchange his hands and pass to his teammates, where exactly to cut through, and when to commit to a play. Commentary heard from the built-in speakers can attest to it, as their primary focus is on how Rafe is taking the last game of the season by storm.

But, while everyone's eyes are glued to the game, as much as you try not to, you can't do anything but stare at Rafe.

He's just as incredible as he was when you were dating him; if not, more. In some way, it makes your heart tighten, knowing that this validates his reason for the breakup. You just wish he felt some semblance of the pain you feel. But as much as you hate it, you're also proud. Rafe has come so far, and trained so hard, to make it to where he is. If he secures a win for the last game, it will be nothing but a guaranteed track to the NBA and luxuries and fame ahead.

All without you.

By the time the game ended, Rafe scored the last shot in a close game, delivering the end of the conference with a secured UNC victory. Everyone in the press box stands from their seats, heading to the media room where they'll be meeting a panel of UNC athletes for questions.

Yet, you linger. You step up to the glass, watching as the erupted cheers of the audience surround the entire stadium, much to the glee of the UNC team, while Rafe stands in the middle of the court for a few seconds, soaking everything in. His eyes pan across the bleachers again, in search for something, before his expression falls and he retreats to the locker room.

When you enter the room of journalists, you slip into a seat. It'll be a while before the players come shuffling in, and you take each second to rehearse and calm your nerves. In one hand, is a tape recorder, while the other is a notepad of the written questions you plan to ask.

UNC's Publicist steps out first to provide an official statement and give a brief overview of the conduct of this press conference. She'll be the moderator, giving everyone enough time to ask all of their questions, and she'll be selecting the networks to her own accord. After everyone comes to the general consensus, the door opens and the Coach steps out with his players.

You watch with bated breath as Rafe is the last to enter, freshly showered and changed into grey sweatpants with a matching UNC zip-up jacket. His headphones dangles around his neck, while his expression exudes nothing but boredom and reluctance. Rafe has always hated interviews, especially post-games, during your relationship. At least that's the one thing that hasn't changed.

You drop your gaze to your lap, swallowing hard as you calm your racing heartbeat. It's been months, yet you still feel the same emotions coursing through you as if no time has passed—longing, hurt, sadness. You whisper positive affirmations, reminding yourself that it's just a job, and that'll be short and simple. You won't even have to speak to Rafe, because your boss may have said to find out more about Rafe Cameron for your profile, nowhere did he say you have to ask him specifically.

When Rafe sits on his chair, he lazily scans the room, a habit of his to pass the time, before he spots you among the crowd. In the third row, second seat; your favorite choice to sit. You don't see it, but a corner smile lifts to his face, demeanor changing, and he straightens up in his seat.

Throughout the conference, the publicist hands the microphone off to whoever she selects. They often direct their questions at Rafe, to which he gives monosyllabic and deadpanned answers. Then, when they try to seek more clarification, Rafe gives them nothing, much to their grimness.

You keep your head low, writing down notes, and drawing doodles on the edge of your notepad. Anything to avoid making accidental eye contact with Rafe. But, regardless, you feel him. The heat of his stare remains on you the entire time, especially when the publicist approach you and hands you the microphone.

It’s time.

With trembling hands, you stand from your seat. You turn your attention to the front of the panel, introducing yourself, your network, and your job. Smiles spread across Rafe's teammates as they recognize you, and you offer a polite one of your own.

Beginning at the furthest player at the end of the table, you ask, "How would you describe Mr. Cameron as a teammate?"

He grins as if he was prepared for this. "Rafe's an incredible teammate and captain. He's a capable leader, who's strong on the court, but also strong on having his teammates' back. You saw it back there—" That earns a small laugh from the reporters. "But, yeah. Rafe's one of my favorite teammates, if I'm being honest."

You tilt your head at that conclusion, because, if you remember correctly, in freshman year, he often rivaled with Rafe and got into fights over minor things. Regardless, you nod, thanking him for his response, and moving on to the next player with the next question.

"What do you think about Mr. Cameron's plays throughout the season?"

"Is that all you got for me, Mrs?" The second player teases playfully, causing heat to warm your cheeks. "Whatever, I got this. Well, let me think. Rafe's always had solid stats. He's one of the hardest-working players on and off the court, and he always keeps his head focused. Even when he had a bit of a bump a couple of months back, he adjusted his plays and bounced back. That’s his resilience."

Your breath hitches at the implication. You try your hardest not to sneak a glance at Rafe, but you can't help yourself. Turning to your side, you discover Rafe watching you, his expression grimacing at the confession of his teammate.

Months ago. The only thing that changed was your breakup. Does this mean he was as affected as you were?

You try not to think too much about that. Thanking the player again, you move to the next, asking more about Rafe's character—his prospects for the NBA, and his experience managing a student-athlete. You didn't ask just about Rafe, you asked about the games and conferences too, but most of the players always return their answers to Rafe. Positively. As if they had this unspoken agreement behind the scenes to hype Rafe up to his ex-girlfriend.

Time goes on, and you start to immerse yourself in the role. It wasn't as difficult as you expected, especially because you're entertaining a team who've known you all throughout their collegiate career. They answered the questions with enthusiasm and a playfulness that can only be recognized by years of familiarity. You can feel the energy from the reporters shift, stewed with envy, because of how the players are showing favoritism to a novice reporter who barely has her foot in the door.

Rafe watches you the entire time. How truly riveting you are in your role. How you command the room with your questions, how you captivate the players, and how you grow more comfortable as you talk to your teammates. He waits patiently as you make your way down the table, for his chance to talk to you.

But just as he's about to be next, you return the microphone to the moderator. You were going to leave him hanging. Before you can fully hand off the mic, a voice commands the room.

"What about me?"

It was Rafe. You lift your head to find him leaning against his own microphone propped on the table, his blue eyes pinned on you, his expression full of want. Your lips part, but no words fall through. The publicist doesn't take back the microphone.

You stammer. "What about you?"

"Don't you have any questions for me?" He questions, as the crowd murmurs with surprise. On any other day, Rafe would've gladly taken the lack of questions aimed at his face. You've done your research; you've seen his previous interviews.

"I..." You can't seem to answer him. All eyes—from the Coach, to the players (who are smiling their head off), to the reporters—turn to you. "I've asked all my questions."

"I'm sure you can think of one more," he declares, his eyes not once straying from your face. As if he's taking the time to memorize all of your features, to absorb any changes. "Come on, hit me."

Everyone waits. Eagerly. With jealousy. The media room stills with a palpable silence, and you can't do anything but retract your arm, holding the microphone back up to your lips.

You blink, racking your brain for any questions. You truly did ask all of them, and there's nothing appropriate enough to ask in front of a room full of people who are recording and monitoring your moves. So, you settle on something safe.

"How did you feel scoring that winning shot?"

Rafe takes a deliberate moment to consider his answer. His silence tells it all. Before he leans down against the mic, his lips centimeters from the pop filter, and he says, "Empty."

Flashes of the camera go off, and hushed whispers are heard throughout the room. But none of that matters to you. Your eyes remain on Rafe, your heart skipping beats from his confession, and you tame enough of your voice before asking a follow-up. "Can you explain why?"

He nods. "Basketball is great and all, and I'm grateful for everything that has happened, and all I have accomplished. Hell, I'm even grateful for this team right here that's been such a hardass on me since day one," he gestures to his teammates on the panel, and they all grin and laugh. One even blows him a kiss. "But, at the end of the day, it's just a game. Without the people you love by your side, it's meaningless."

You truly feel like all the air has been sucked out of your lungs and tears crowd your waterline. When his words finally deliver through, it's almost a straight shot to your chest. This was the admission you'd been waiting for, but it didn't feel satisfactory whatsoever. It's painful, all of the old wounds opening by their stitches, and grief comes crawling up your throat, demanding to be felt.

You don't answer him. You can't. Rafe watches you carefully, trying to gauge your reaction, trying to see if his words had any impact, but you hide them well. For now. With tears stinging your vision, and seconds from unraveling at the seams, you drop the microphone onto the chair and leave the room in a rush.

That's when he realizes he fucked up.

Rafe stands from his seat, ready to follow after you, but his Coach commands him to sit down. His gaze remains on you until you exit the room, but with direct orders, he can do nothing but slump back into his chair.

When Rafe finishes the rest of his interviews, with more reluctance than he had before, he wants nothing more than to go back to campus to search for you. But he doesn't know if that's such a good idea. Clearing out, Rafe steps out of the doors.

To where you were waiting.

"You had no right," you snap, as Rafe heads to the exit of the stadium. He whips around at the sound of your voice, finding you leaning against the wall. As much as he knows he fucked up, he can't explain the happiness he feels at seeing you still here.

"For what?" Rafe prompts with an easygoing smile, "Talking? I'm pretty sure that's what the press conference is about."

But you don't take it so easy.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," you huff, "You used my words against me."

During the breakup, Rafe had said something along the lines of focusing on his basketball career. You had rebutted that basketball can't be the one thing in his life. At the time, he disagreed, prompting the necessity of the breakup further. It had hurt to hear your words twisted and used against you.

"It was friendly," he reassures. "Just like the rest of my teammates. Talking like we're friends."

"We're not friends and you know that."

He frowns. "We said we would be."

"No, you said that," you hiss, clenching your hands by your side, memories slapping you and prickling your skin. "To rid yourself of the guilt, or to make it seem like permanent. I don't know. But it doesn't work that way with me, Rafe. We aren't friends."

His brows pinch together, and agitation flares through his hard features. "So, that's what it's gonna be like? You come to my games and you interview my entire team but you ignore me because we broke up? That's unprofessional."

You falter. "That's not fair."

"It isn't?" He challenges, stepping closer into your space. "How do you think I felt when you were interviewing every single one of my teammates about me, but refusing to talk to me? To look at me? What does that suggest?"

"That I got everything I needed from your teammates."

"You could've gotten it directly from the source."

"I didn't need to,"

"You could've,"

"Why are you so adamant about me talking to you?"

"Because you're acting like a vindictive bitch."

You stagger back as if he struck you, and Rafe instantly regretted the words that left his mouth. But he can't take them back. Your lips part, and you stare at him in disbelief, but you come up with nothing to defend yourself.

With the hardest glare you can muster, you proclaim, "Fuck you, Rafe."

And you turn to leave.

Rafe quickly follows after you. "Wait—that's not—I didn't mean that."

"I don't want to talk to you anymore."

"Just like you didn't want to talk to me in the conference room?"

"You broke up with me!" You snap, stopping in your tracks with such abruptness, that Rafe almost ran into you. Turning back around to face him, you say, "You were the love of my life, and you left me, and you expect me to keep it professional?"

Rafe says nothing.

"I'm trying," you croak, tears crowding your vision again, and you hate how vulnerable and pathetic you feel in his presence. Like it was back to that night in the car, where Rafe said it was over. "I'm trying to do this right."

Rafe watches your face with anguish, but he can't say anything. You're trying hard to keep your composure, and regain some semblance of stability, you say with a even voice, "I'm glad everything is working out the way you want it to. I'm glad you get this bigshot career and you're about to make it in the NBA, and I'm glad you found it so easy to move on but that's not how it worked with me." Your voice cracks. "I loved you. I can't just forget about it like it's nothing."

His voice is small when he answers. "I didn't."

"You didn't?" You repeat with disbelief. "Rafe, you're thriving. You barely look like our breakup had any impact on you. You're about to secure one of the biggest deals in NBA history. What else could you possibly be missing?"

"You."

His dark eyes connect with yours in utmost vulnerability and it cripples you. All your aggression and anger, all your pent-up frustration—it makes you upset that Rafe manage to disarm you with one word.

"No," you step back, shaking your head, "You can't do that."

"It's the truth."

"It's too late."

Rafe looks pained at your declaration. "Don't say that."

"Don't say what?" You sniffle, your vision blurring with hot tears. "My truth? Did you expect me to wait around for you to come to your senses? To beg for you to take me back?"

"I didn't..." Rafe stammers, searching your face for any indication that it isn't too late. That he still had a chance. But he doesn't find any. "I was honest back there. Any win without you feels empty."

"Stop,"

"I made a mistake."

"Rafe—" You shake your head again, sucking in a deep breath, and needing him to listen and step back. "I'm not here to talk about that. I don't want to talk about that."

"But I do,"

"But I don't," you declare firmly. "I just... I need you to understand. You can't do that. I'm trying to move on with my life. And I understand that we're going to be seeing each other, no matter how I don't want to. But I'll get used to it. I'll numb that pain. But you can't do that. Here; back there. It wasn't fair to me."

Your words sound too permanent. Too real. Rafe can't stand it.

With desperation, he pleads, "Can we talk?"

"We're already talking."

"No, I'm talking about us," Rafe says, taking a step forward. Only for you to take one back. "Please."

"There's nothing to talk about it."

"There's so much to say."

"Name one."

"I miss you."

"Rafe," you cry, tears streaming down your face that you can no longer contain. He hates seeing you cry. He hates it more to be the reason. All he wants is to pull you into his arms and apologize, over and over, to soothe the pain, but it looks as if it would hurt worse if he tried to touch you. "Please stop. You're breaking my heart again."

He made a mistake. There are so many times he can say that. When he saw you in the media room, for the first time in months, it came rushing back to what he's missing. How much he's losing you. He wanted to ask you so much—about how you're doing, to learn how you got the job, to uncover more about how close you are to achieving your dreams.

But he was barricaded. By responsibilities, obligations, and duties. He couldn't ask you in a room full of people. He couldn't help you when his father pressured him to break up with you for his career. He couldn't do anything, then. But he wants to do better now.

He says your name, so defeated, in a last-ditch effort. But you shake your head.

You need to leave this place with whatever is left of your pride and dignity. So, you straighten your spine, take out his jersey from your tote, and hand him the last remnant of your relationship. "Congratulations on your win, Mr. Cameron. I wish you the best in your career."

And when you turn to leave this time, he doesn't stop you.

IMPORTANT: if you want to follow my fics and updates, follow @zyafics-library and turn on notifications!

[apricot-blossomss]

↬ apollo being scared of losing you as he lost all his mortal lovers

↬ hurt/comfort with a fluffy ending, warnings: fear of losing someone, mentions of sex, mentions of nightmares

he was almost too beautiful to bear in his sleep. running a gentle finger over the soft skin of his cheek, you couldn't help but be reminded of the renaissance painting figures, just as frail and untouchable. it made you sad, though you couldn't have named a specific reason for the sudden wave of melancholy that hit you. your hand travelled from his face to his neck, over his shoulders and brushed against his muscular back, but your eyes were still fixed on his face. on the golden locks that gently swayed in the light breeze, the huffing from his pink lips, his long lashes. what did gods dream about? what did your god dream about?

it was only after a few minutes that you found the strength to look away from your lover. as quietly as you could, you slipped out from under the thin covers. there was no need for heavy blankets when you could trust there would always be summer at your residence and you had your own personal heater laying next to you in bed. when your bare feet met the floor, you allowed yourself one quick look back at apollo. the sudden wish to draw him, his sleeping face, his ethereal youthfulness, his incomprehensible beauty and the sun kissed golden locks overcame you. but at the same time, you knew you would never be up to the task. no one would ever be.

you rose from the bed and tip-toed over to the closet to grab a dress to cover your naked body with. the slight wobble in your step served as a reminder of the night before and you felt heat creep up to your face merely thinking about it. you got dressed quickly and hurried out of the bedroom. normally, it was apollo who would be up first, already greeting you with a delicious breakfast and good morning kisses, ignoring your objections because of morning breath. now that you were up first for once, you decided to return the favor.

apollo had added a kitchen to his palace, just for his mortal lover. as a god, he was able to produce foods from his bare hands and ambrosia was always available to him. you being into cooking and baking had been new to him, but he happily indulged in your hobby and supported it, even by altering his own home.

as the kitchen was illuminated by the golden lights of dawn, you got to work to prepare pancakes. stirring the dough, you let your mind wander, and inevitably, it lead you back to last night. the touches of his hands, the kisses, and most importantly, the whispered promises and desperate pleas spoken in the heat of the moment. to have a god worship you like this was possibly the best thing to ever happen to your self-confidence.

just as you were preparing the stove, two warm arms closed in around you like a trap and your defenseless body was pulled back into a warm chest. after a second of panic, you recognized the smell, the breathing pattern, the touch of apollo whose strong arms had you in a tight embrace. with a shuddering breath, the god lowered his face to your neck where you could feel him breathe in your scent. entirely engulfed by his warmth, his taller figure, you had no choice but to pause what you were doing and let him consume you completely.

but immediately, you sensed that something was off. maybe it was instinct, maybe the god and you were connected on a whole other level by now, maybe it was the way his breath shuddered and heaved slightly, the way his fingers curled into your sides a little too much for your comfort. after a failed attempt of turning around to face him apollo didn't even seem to take notice of, you called out his name softly and brought a gentle hand to his face that was still buried in your neck. "love?"

begrudgingly, it seemed, apollo raised his head from your neck and allowed you to turn around in his arms. a tight smile pulled at his lips, but it was missing the radiant shining of his usual ones. he more so seemed like he was in pain and you frowned. "apollo-"

"hm, is my little wife making breakfast for me?" he asked with a forced cheerfulness. apollo loved to call you his wife, even though you weren't married since he was a god and you a mortal. the smile still didn't reach his eyes and your frown deepened. as if he could lie to you. sensing your unease, apollo leaned over comically dramatic to dip his finger into the dough. you knew it was a diversion, and he knew that you knew when you didn't even try to stop him.

"apollo, what's wrong?"

"nothing's wrong, silly," he smiled, unnervingly so, still missing the usual sparkle in his golden eyes. "or is there?" gentle, strong arms spun you back around until you were facing your dough and his head dipped once more. there was no way to suppress the goosebumps spreading over your skin when his lips brushed barely along your ear, like a breath, like a memory. "do you have an ache i can tend to my love? how about ... here?" his fingers hovered over your crotch, tips brushing against the fabric of your dress and he smirked at you mischievously like a cat cornering a mouse.

"you can't distract me with sex, my love," you said softly but with a stern undertone. taking a step back and folding your arms over your chest, you took him in completely. golden locks disheveled from slumber, chest bare and decorated with your marks and only a loincloth hiding his crotch. "what's wrong?" you asked again with a pleading tone to your voice. "talk to me, please"

a flash of pain crossed his beautiful eyes and it was such a heart wrenching sight, though just visible for a millisecond, that it knocked the breath from your lungs. "i'm fine," he whispered, but his eyes were fixed at a spot just above your brow. the answer did little to convince you, as it missed the usual extravaganza and poetry and beauty that filled every single one of the phrases that escaped the god of poetry's mouth.

almost tearing up seeing him in distress, you took a step towards him and closed your smaller fingers, still a little stuck with pancake dough, around his spotless, bigger hands. they did their best trying to warm him up. "please," you begged. "let me help you, my love"

"i'm fine," he repeated and lowered his head. you gasped in shock when he fell to his knees on the ground, still holding onto your hands. "you're fine"

now, you weren't that dense and at his words, you immediately sensed what was wrong. bringing your hands from his hands that immediately latched onto your thighs in a desperate need to ground himself, to his face to lift it up. you gave him a gentle smile. "yes, i am. very much alive and very much still human instead of vegetation"

the god let out a dry, heartbroken laugh and now the pain was on full display, twisted his beautiful features and your insides as a dull ache. his eyes wandered over your face, as if in an effort to engrave it into his memory. "you mortals are so fragile. like painted glass in a chapel. pretty, divine, easy to break, and your colors paint me, too, and your shards, they hurt me, make me bleed" his grip on your thighs tightened. "love..."

for a while, there you stood, still and composed like a marble statue. the god at your feet, holding onto your plush thighs, and you hovering over him, trying to breathe from the pain you felt when your love was hurting. "i'm sorry," you finally breathed. neither your brain nor your tongue, that were this flawed compared to your artist, could think of the fitting words, reassurances. "i never meant to- i'm sorry i- and for everyone you lost-"

"you," he whispered and you had to lower your hand a little so your flawed mortal ears could make out the words. seeming close to tears, he angled his head up to expose his eternal pain to you. "i dreamt that i lost you." his hands twitched and he held onto your thighs more tightly. "woke up and you weren't there and for a moment i knew... i just knew you would be gone too, and it would be my fault."

your fingers cradled his face as you tried to remain calm and steady for him. but gods, it was hard when seeing him like this broke your heart as well, pinched your heartstrings painfully and you had to fight the stinging in your eyes. "do you dream about that often?" you asked him softly as your fingertips grazed his cheekbones in an attempt to offer comfort.

"sometimes," he whispered.

never had you seen a god cry. apollos tears had a golden hue to them, like a river at sunset, and you couldn't help it, your vision got blurry as well. you wanted to be strong for him, you really did, but you weren't able to bear this. "forgive me, my love," apollos wept softly and even now, it still was like a melody. "forgive me"

"there is nothing to forgive, darling," you reminded him and crouched down to his level to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders. "i'm okay. i'm here. and i don't intend to go anywhere anytime soon." a shaky breath, a silenced sob and he returned the embrace, engulfing your body fully. his arms had you in a tight lock, a desperate plea to keep your promise.

for a while, you just sat there on the kitchen floor. breakfast was long forgotten and, embracing each other, you watched the sun's light illuminate the room more with each passing minute. apollo's tears dried up eventually and his fingers began stroking your hair and kneading the plush of your thigh tenderly. after pressing a few kisses to your scalp, he was the first to break the silence. "would you believe me if i told you you are the best thing that ever happened to me?"

"i would find that a little hard to believe, you have lived for over a millennia after all," you smiled and his fingers drummed against your skin in response.

a thoughtful hum rumbled in his chest and his fingers played with the hem of your dress. "looks like i have to make a song to prove my point, then." there was a shift in his tone. this tone, a subtle show of his godly might, had a shiver run down your spine. "not just to you. it will be a composition so great it will stun all of olympus. a tune that will make my father himself melt. a song in exchange for your immortality, my love"

a surprised little gasp left your throat and you looked up from his chest to meet his eyes. they were determined and oh so full of love when he looked down at you, still caged in his arms. the topic of immortality had rarely come up between the two of you, and though you knew you would gladly spent the rest of your life with apollo, you didn't know wether he wanted to commit to you for eternity. too stunned to speak and not able to grasp any of the boiling feelings rumbling inside of you, you could only wrap your arms around his middle once more and hide your face in his chest as you felt the heat creep up your cheeks.

"darling, why are you hiding from me?" you could hear the grin in his teasing voice and begrudgingly looked up at him. finally, your god was smiling again, as radiant as the sun he was. "hm, you do realize i just proposed, don't you?" he asked as he tilted your chin upwards with his index finger.

"are you sure?" you blurted out and he frowned. "sure? of course I'm sure. are you not, lovely? because we can wait. i have time. until you are ready, yeah?"

"i am ready," you insisted, meeting his gaze with the same determination. "it's just... are you sure you want to keep me around for eternity?"

"keep you around?," he repeated and chuckled. seconds later, you found yourself sitting on the counter with the god standing in between your legs, his hands on your waist. "my love, my sunshine, every day for the rest of our immortal lives, i will worship you. i will forever praise the day you let me into your life, never take you for granted. i will always stay true to you and if i should ever wrong you, you may pierce me with my own arrows and throw me into the depths of tartarus."

"Now that's a marriage proposal," you joked to mask your flustered state. "How can I say no to that?" there was a sudden fire burning in his eyes, one that you knew all too well and you had the suspicion that you wouldn't get to finish the pancakes anytime soon.

"it's a yes then?"

[thelostconsultant]

Double surprise

pairing: Lando Norris x reader

summary: Lando wants to surprise you, but in the end you surprise him too.

Lando could tell Max was already planning to bang his head against the coffee table, but it honestly wasn't his fault. Maybe he was terrible at making decisions at the moment, yes, so what? It's not like he had anywhere to rush at this time, and if he was a true friend, he would stay to provide emotional support.

Because Lando was preparing for something big, and the first step was asking a jewelry store employee to jump in the hotel he was staying in with a bunch of engagement rings. If he showed up in the store himself, social media would be full of pictures within a matter of minutes. He didn't want to ruin the surprise. And it was also much more comfortable this way.

“Lando, just pick the third one. You said it yourself, that's her style,” Max tried.

With a thoughtful hum, the Brit picked up the said piece and took a better look at it. “Yeah, it's true, but,” he began, then came to a halt as he grabbed the last one the jeweler showed him. “I don’t know, the first one is a classic, but what if she prefers something modern and trendy?”

The jeweler watched him in silence, the patience of a saint radiating from his smile. He had been there for two hours now, it was already nine in the evening, but he not once made a comment about still being there. “Which one is closer to what she usually wears?” he asked softly, trying to guide him towards a decision.

Lando thought for a moment. “The classic one,” he replied while he took a closer look at it again.

One big, round white diamond with two smaller stones on its side, completed by a yellow gold band. It was clean. Nice. Something simply elegant for her. But then he glanced over at the other one and saw the curved white gold band with a big, pear shaped yellow diamond, and a voice in his head told him that was the one. People would go insane over it when you shared it on social media.

He looked up at the jeweler with a thankful smile, then turned to Max. “All right, I'm buying both. She'll get the trendy one, but if she doesn't like it, all I'll have to do is pull out the classic option. She can even wear whichever she prefers depending on the day,” he explained his master plan.

Max let out a sigh of relief and mouthed ‘finally’ under his breath, while the jeweler clapped his hands together and closed the box with the rest of the rings. Meanwhile Lando had a huge grin on his face, clearly satisfied with his decision. He solved the problem. Sure, it took two hours, but he wanted to pick the perfect ring for you.

Since he specifically asked for rings already available in your size–which he only knew because he stole one you wore on that finger–he kept the chosen ones and said goodbye to the jeweler after paying for the items. Once they were left alone, Max picked up the rings and took a closer look at them, carefully examining every centimeter, every curve, and every stone. As if he was waiting for approval, Lando raised an eyebrow at him.

“Good choice if you ask me. Seeing her disappointed in your taste wouldn't make you feel good, even if she said yes,” Max said with a short laugh before putting down the jewels.

Rolling his eyes, Lando stretched his arms above his head and fought back a yawn. Media day always took a lot out of him and today wasn't any different. Add the stress of making the right decision and he felt like a truck had hit him. “Thanks, mate,” he told his friend.

“When will you ask her?”

“She arrives tomorrow, so I guess I'll get it over with as soon as I can. I need an extra boost for qualifying,” he added with a laugh.

Max gave him a ‘good luck out-qualifying me’ look, but Lando was too hyped to notice. So he let out a sigh and decided to voice his only concern. “So you want to get this over with? Sounds romantic.”

“You know what I mean,” Lando said defensively, giving him a disappointed look that was mixed with the hurt feeling because he dared to joke about him not being serious enough about it.

“Well, tell me how it went.” Max patted his friend on the shoulder before standing up, then watched him with a small smile. “But I'm proud of you. She's nice and has a good influence on you… You chose wisely.”

“Thanks. See you tomorrow at the track?”

Max nodded, then he raised his hand to wave him goodbye and left the hotel room. This left Lando alone with his thoughts, and he began to wonder if he would succeed. The two of you had been going through a bit of a rough patch lately, and he told you this trip was all about fixing that. You would join him for the race weekend, then you would stay in the area for a little trip, just the two of you, away from curious eyes.

His mother told him this plan of his might backfire, because you weren't entirely pleased with him right now, and who knew, maybe you would consider this a way to force you to stay in this relationship. He obviously didn't want you to feel that way, but he didn't want you to leave him either.

His phone buzzed next to him, and when he took a look at it, a wide smile grew on his face. “Hello, beautiful,” he answered happily.

“Hey, you have a moment?” you asked him hesitantly.

“For you? Always.”

There was a short pause, he could hear the traffic in the background, but before he could ask you where you were, you took a deep breath and began to talk. “So I said I'm gonna arrive tomorrow, but I won't.”

Lando felt like he was stabbed in the heart, like the air had been knocked out of his lungs. “What do you mean you won't? You promised to come here, you can't just back out of it! Unless it's a family emergency. Is it a family emergency?” he asked, barely able to hide the anger that latched onto his voice.

You remained silent for a while and he silently cursed under his breath. How could you do this to him? You had agreed you would join him two months ago, there's no way you couldn't plan that much ahead back then. But then you let out a laugh, one of those adorable laughs he loved so much, and his anger disappeared at once.

“I'll send you an address. Get in the car and meet me there,” you told him.

“I'll be at the track all day and you arrive in the morning, don't tell me you won't–”

You cleared your throat to interrupt him. “I was talking about now, you muppet. Or are you about to sleep?” you asked him teasingly.

Lando huffed and rolled his eyes. But then it struck him, you were talking about now, you were talking about him driving to that mysterious location, which meant… “Wait, you're already here?” he asked you.

“Just meet me. There's something I need to tell you.”

And with that you ended the call. He didn't have the brain capacity to stop you, and it didn't occur to him that he could have called you back. Instead he stood there, staring at the screen of his phone until the notification popped up. He put the address in the search bar and checked the map. It was close, only a fifteen minutes drive from his hotel.

Without hesitation, he grabbed his keys and headed to where you were apparently waiting for him. He was already standing in front of the elevator when he realized he left the rings in his room, and he didn't want to leave without them. So he ran back and picked up the two boxes, putting them safely in his pocket.

After a car ride that seemed painfully slow, he finally arrived at his destination. According to your message, you were right here, but when he looked up, he noticed it was a private clinic. Hoping this was the right address, he went closer to the door and it opened right away, so he went inside and tried to figure out where to go next. This place was huge, and at this time it felt like he was in The Walking Dead.

“Mr. Norris? Please, follow me,” a woman in her thirties told him with a polite smile, gesturing towards the elevator.

“Where are we going?” he asked when the door closed behind them.

The woman only watched him with a mysterious smile, probably perfectly aware of what was happening, but she didn't say a word. She probably promised to keep your secret, which was nice, but also extremely annoying. Why in a clinic? Did something happen to you? But you sounded happy, surely everything was okay.

Before they stopped, the woman handed him an eye mask and asked him to put it on. At this point he didn't dare to ask questions, so he did as he was told and followed her guidance after the elevator came to a halt. After she made him stop, he heard a door open and he was soon pushed ahead to enter.

He waited. Someone would hopefully come over to tell him what this was all about, and until then he decided to remain silent. And then he felt soft fingers trace his cheek, only to find the edge of the mask and slowly pull it off his head. There you were, happy and in one piece. With a smile, he was quick to pull you into a hug.

“I missed you,” he whispered as he kissed your head then buried his face into the crook of your neck. “What are you doing here? Or rather, what are we doing here in a clinic?”

“I have a surprise for you,” you purred into his ear, and he could feel your nails scratch the skin on the back of his neck as you spoke. It felt nice. He missed this.

For the first time, he took a look around the ultrasound room, and when he noticed the posters on the walls, his suspicion began to grow. “Wait a second,” he began as he took a step back and looked you in the eye. “Are you…?” He pointed at your abdomen with a raised eyebrow.

With a laugh, you took his hand. “I am. Eight weeks in,” you informed him.

For a while he was staring at you with a dumbfounded look on his face, but then he stepped closer to pull you into a passionate kiss. What started out as something serious soon turned into a series of giggles from the both of you. Lando was the one who pulled away, suddenly remembering something.

He excused himself and stepped outside for long enough to find the main ring’s box in his pocket, then returned with his hands held behind his back. There was no plan, at least not for these circumstances, so he had no choice but to improvise. You looked confused and he had to flash a smile at you to let you know it was okay.

“I… You know… Damn it. Okay, so there was a plan, I promise, but you didn't really leave me a choice. Pick a hand.”

“What?” you asked with a confused look.

“Choose a hand. Left or right?”

You let out a thoughtful hum, visibly thinking about the answer. Then you flashed a wide grin at him and said, “Right.”

It was in his left hand, but nevermind, he grabbed the box with his right one and held it out for you. “This is yours,” he said nervously.

The shocked look on your face made him worry, but it slowly melted away as you slowly opened the box and saw the ring inside. You took it out to take a better look at the piece of jewelry, and soon a smile grew on your face before you finally turned to him.

“What do you say?” Lando asked.

“You didn't ask me anything.”

With a roll of his eyes, he reached out to take the ring and took your hand as well. “Will you marry me?” You nodded without hesitation, tears already forming in your eyes, and he quickly put the ring on your finger before you could change your mind. He kissed you again, but he could tell you were looking at your new ring behind his back. “You like it?” he asked once he pulled away and took a look at it as well.

You nodded. “It's beautiful.”

Lando reached into his pocket for the other box, and showed you his plan B. “If you'd prefer something classic, here's this one too,” he explained.

“You're insane. One ring is more than enough,” you told him with a laugh.

“Well, I know how many shoes you have, this can't be any different.”

With a playful laugh, you slapped his arm. “An engagement ring is different, trust me,” you said as you leaned closer. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He looked around and motioned towards the machine in the corner. “So… Are we here so I can take a look at my child?”

You nodded and went out to ask the doctor to come in. Meanwhile Lando couldn't help but think about how much organizing it must have taken to get this ready, but he was honestly grateful, because it was a big surprise. A big and amazing surprise. This was one of the reasons why he loved you so much, and all he wanted was to make your life as good as he could in return.

[gremlingottoosilly]

Hi! I hope you're doing well, I wondering if you could write something about Konig or Simon pretending to be delivery drivers and going to y/ns house to "from off there food" and instead engaging in some non-con

You sure as hell didn't order anything tonight. Yet, there it is - a guy in front of your apartment, a bag of...something in his hand. A guy who is way too big to be a delivery driver - he looks like he can lift his truck with one hand easily - and with a freaking mask over his face that makes him look like a mix of bulglar and a slasher from some trashy horror movies. You were trying to tell him that you weren't ordering anything, especially this late at night. That no, he can't come in and you're going to call the police if he keeps pestering you and... That must have set him off. Now, you're pushed on the floor - Konig made sure that you landed in a fluffy carper, not wanting to hurt his pretty darling too much - with your panties snatched down with your house clothes. You curse yourself for not being the type to wear some sort of weird armor around your home - it's insanely easy for the intruder to pull the waistband of your sweats down and then tear at your panties. It's insanely easy for him to stuff a finger in your already-soaked pussy, your body betraying your mind as your hole clenched around thick digit, making you moan and whimper as you force your hips to stay put.

He holds you down as he pounds at your pussy, whispering some soft apologies about not preparing you properly at first. He promises he will get better if you just let him have another few chances - and that if you won't, he'll just have to become rough again. It's not like you have any choice other than just laying here and taking it like a good girl, anyway.

He did brought food, however. Feeds you cold fries and some pieces of the burger as you were recovering on your couch, one of his hands setting you down firmly on the couch, not letting a pretty little thing like you go. You're going with him after all of this - and you understand now why would a "delivery driver" need such a big truck. You fit inside just perfectly.

[sonolynn]

A Fools Game

request | would love to see your take on Aemond feeling like a fool. Aemond thinks he charmed someone all on his own, only to find out they were pressured into pursuing him by a power-hungry family member, much like Alicent with Viscerys 👀

summary | Aemond thought you loved him.

paring | Aemond x Fem!Reader

tags | swearing, unrequited love, arranged marriage, hurt no comfort, angst, miscommunication kinda, not proof read.

w.c | 1.3k

note(s) | I love angst. I love angst so much.

____________________________________________

Aemond loved you. Whole heartedly he loved you. He never thought himself capable of love or being loved, but somehow you changed that; changed his way of thinking and his way of everyday life. He didn’t like it, at first. He thought at first that this new way of life that was instructed by you was something to feel scared about, or to fear. It wasn’t until he got to know you-truly know you-that he found himself drowning in what it was like to love you. 

While he was courting you it felt surreal. He had charmed his way into your heart and your affections with all but simple words and small touches. He thought himself to be a human for once. Not a mindless sword for the crown but a human-perhaps even a boy. 

When he asked you to marry him he thought you would say yes immediately, but when you said you needed to think he felt a little bit of his resolve crumble away and fill with anxiety. 

____________________________________________

“He asked me if I should marry him.” You told Queen Alicent. The queen nodded at your words, pacing back and forth in front of the fire. Your family had been a vital part of the crown’s court for generations. Your father had gifted the crown lots of gold, and even more weapons and military assistance with what you could spare. More times than you could count your father had saved King Viserys’ ass. 

Hence why now, the queen was pressuring you into marrying her son. A marriage between the great Targaryen’s and your house would surely be prosperous for both sides. 

“And you said yes?” Alicent asked. You had always felt the pressure to say yes to anything the prince had asked you; You did not find him scary, or intimidating as most did, but you didn’t know if you could love him like how he seemed to love you, at least, not with the pressures of his family.

“I told him that I would think about it, your grace.” At your words Alicent stopped and she turned back to you. 

“Think about it?” 

“Yes, your grace-” 

“You will say yes.” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and nodded slowly. You knew that this was coming, you knew that you had no choice in the outcome of your own life. You were born into this, being the firstborn daughter of your family and all. From the minute the maester declared your gender you no longer had a choice in what you would choose to do in your life. Your decisions, your actions and your fate all rested in the hands of powerful men and women. 

So, when Alicent told you that you would say yes to the prince, you only nodded softly and went on your way. A pain in your chest that you couldn’t yet seem to pinpoint. 

____________________________________________

When the day finally came for the wedding the whole keep was a bustle. Servants ran around, preparing the decorations and the food and almost everything. You, however, sat in your chambers, staring at yourself in the mirror as the servant behind you did your hair. 

Aemond found himself excited, marrying the girl-no, women-that he had fallen in love with made his head spin and his heart burn in anticipation to see you in your white dress. 

You, however, didn’t recognize yourself, decorated in gold and ivory like a doll for Alicent Hightower to play with. Your hair had adjournments and jewels that you had never seen before, and your dress was starting to feel too tight. You quickly stood from your seat, and you walked to Alicent’s chambers. 

The minute you got to Alicent’s room, seeing her sit in her chair as a servant did her hair, you felt a wave of anxiety wash over you. If you backed out now surely your father would hate you for it…But you were done looking out for others. 

“I can’t marry the prince.” You spoke quietly, but Alicent heard you. She stood slowly, pushing the servant back a little. 

“You are just nervous. You shouldn’t say such things-” “The only thing that I am nervous about is being thrown into a loveless marriage! I cannot marry the prince lest I drive myself insane!” Alicent paused, and she gave you a look; a warning look. But you ignored the look, only to continue talking. “I have never looked out for myself. Not truly. But for once I wish to be able to make my own decision without that of a higher power!” 

You watched Alicent’s eyes drift from your eyes to behind you, and her breath caught in her throat. 

“Aemond.” 

You froze as she spoke the name, and you turned quickly, only to be faced with that of the young prince. Your heart broke, something you didn’t know it could do for the prince. You watched his wide eye, his soft frown as he stared down at you. 

“My mother forced you to do this?” He spoke carefully, his voice slightly wavering. You watched, as the last bit of excitement in the prince's eyes drained out into something more; hurt and betrayal. 

“M-My prince-” You went to speak, but Aemond quickly turned, his hair falling over his shoulder blades as he rushed out of the room. You sighed heavily and followed him, calling out his name. 

As he descended down the stairs, you quickly picked up your dress and ran after him. 

“Aemond, wait! Please! You do not understand-” 

“I understand enough!” His voice was loud, he was truly yelling, which caused you to stop and stare down at him. His one eye was slightly red, and his jaw was clenched. 

“Aemond-” 

“I understand. I understand that my mother is a two tongued cunt who forces others to bend at her will. But I did not expect you to be so easily pliable.” Your face hardened at that, and you glared at him. 

“How is it that when looking out for myself, I become pliable! I wish to live a life in which I do not have my decisions made for me-” 

“You could have had that with me!” Aemond spoke frantically, looking up at you with soft eyes as his voice tore between the lines of hurt and fury. “I would have loved and cherished you with everything I had!” 

You scoffed. “Loved? When does love ever come out of a political marriage?” 

“Political?” His face softened into confusion and he looked up at you, his eye tracing over your face in disbelief. You looked at him with the same amount of confusion. 

“This marriage. It is political.” 

“No. No, this marriage is because I find my heart at your feet.” You stopped at his words, staring at him with an expression slowly turning into that of shock. 

“You care for me?” 

“No, I fucking love you!” He stares for a moment longer, before he speaks again. “But now I see what it truly is. Forgive me, my lady.” He gave you a quick nod of his head before he turned and returned to his descent down the stairs. You stood frozen, looking at his back as tears formed in your eyes. You knew this wedding would go on no matter what happened, but this complicated things, so many things. 

As Aemond walked away he felt his heart beating faster. How could he not hate? Why, out of all of this new found hurt did he still feel a connection towards you? 

He wished to scream, he wished to punch the walls until his knuckles went raw and bloody. He wanted to do so many things but he seemed paralyzed to action as your words rang through his head. You never wished to marry him, you wished to please his mother. Gods did he feel like a fool. 

A mistake he vowed he’d never make again.

[munsonsmixtapes]

Eddie requests, you ask? 🧐

What about something where the reader pines for Eddie from afar (maybe she’s not super close with him but share mutual friends) and over time has to stand aside as Eddie hooks up with other girls. Perhaps Eddie is in a bit of a fuckboy era and is a little teasing (or at times harsh) to the reader. Something happens where the reader’s feelings are put on blast (oof, embarrassing) and choices have to be made on how things move forward.

It could be an angst —> fluff or pure angst depending on where you see it going!

cw: hurt/comfort, mention of vomit and throwing up

You see him flirting with yet another girl as you stand behind the counter at Family Video. You hate how pathetic you feel pining for someone who will never feel the same way about you. You know he won't because you're not his type. You know you're not because you've seen the girls he goes out with. They're nothing like you and you've come close to changing your entire look just to make him notice you, but Robin and Steve convinced you not to.

They're laughing now and you have to turn away because you want so badly for it to be you. So badly that it makes you feel sick to your stomach. You hate the way it makes you feel and you hate how you're so hung up on someone who doesn't even know you exist.

Steve sees you turn away and his heart aches for you. You're one of his best friends and he just wishes that Eddie would finally see you for the wonderful woman you are.

And he wants the two of you to get together. He wants it so bad. Not only because he wants you to be happy, but also because he thinks you'll be good for Eddie. The one he settles down with and maybe even eventually marries. He's rooting for the two of you and he really hopes it works out.

But the thing was, Eddie had no fucking clue. And it wasn't that he didn't like you, he barely knew you. He actually thought you were sweet and was no stranger to waving at you or even greeting you when he sees you around town.

Eventually, they break apart and head to the counter where the girl puts a DVD on the counter as you scan it while Steve is behind you typing some stuff into the computer as he enters the returns into it.

The girl, Molly, maybe? Or was it Martha? Definitely something with an M, hands you what she owes you while staring at you with her eyes narrowed, trying to figure out where she knows you from. As you hand her back her change, it hits her and her face lights up as she gets the realization.

"Now I know where I know you from," she says like it's been killing her not knowing. You wonder what she's talking about and nothing can prepare you for the words that leave her mouth. "You're the girl who has a crush on Eddie here," she laughs, jerking her thumb over her shoulder as the man behind her. The way she says it doesn't sound like he's making fun of you, but you still feel your cheeks heating up.

"All the girls are talking about it. We think it's really cute, by the way. I um, I saw your notebook when you let me borrow it one time. It had his name scribbled all over it with hearts. So adorable."

Your expression matches Eddie's as your eyes widen in unison. His cheeks are bright red and you feel yours getting hot. You don't even know what to do or say. Your mouth is dry and now you feel like you're going to throw up.

And before you can stop yourself, you're running out of the store, your stomach churning as you hurry to your car. You unlock the door and Eddie's racing after you, hurrying to where you're opening the door and pushing it closed so you can't leave. You whip around and stare at him, feeling tears well up in your eyes as you looked at him.

"What do you want, Eddie?" You ask, wiping your tears from your eyes and his hands move to rest on your shoulders, leaning closer to you, his lips capturing yours. You gasp into his mouth, but eventually melt into him, not able to resist the exact thing you've been wanting for months.

"Sorry I'm late, sweetheart," he says as he pulls away but only for a second before he's kissing you again.

"It's okay," you reply, your arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer to you.

"It's you," he mumbles against your lips. "It's always been you."

"It's always been you too," you tell him as he pushes you against the car gently, wanting to do this exact thing for hours. And if he gets his way, he will.

[darcydarlingdabbles]

Helpless in Her Hold

//The Drow twins' proposition of Tav surfaces some insecurities for Astaron. Hurt/Comfort, angst but happy ending. CW: Unhealthy relationship to sex/sexuality, identity issues. Not edited... Song Rec: Supposed to Be (Acoustic) By Icon for Hire//

Astarion x f!Tav, Canonish, Act 3

2.1k

Astarion watched, helpless, with his dead heart in his throat as the drow twins propositioned Tav. His Tav. He want to growl it and glower until no one else in this pleasure den deigned to offer their services.

Why did she have to be such a lure for elven whores?

Astarion leaned back against the wall, hardly resisting the urge to fold his arms and sulk in plain view of the whole party. He wasn’t a child whose toy was being played with—and yet, the brightness of her eyes and the laugh on her lips had him wanting to pout and whinge like a toddler.

“I appreciate the offer, I do, but I must decline.” Tav shook her head. Though personally the vampire thought she could be a little more rude in her rejection.

Because the damn twins were were still giving her looks that were far too inviting. Not that Tav saw, because her eyes had landed back on him, and Astarion was just thanking his lucky stars he’d perfected the mask he wore.

“Is that your partner?” The female drow asked, her smile making disgust creep up his spine—it was easy to see where this was going. “We’d be happy to have you both.”

“My dear, I’m afraid you’d be the one parting with your gold.” A high laugh slipped from Astarion’s lips. “And, I do doubt you could afford me.”

He saw the twins’ mirrored expressions of bewilderment turn to glee for only a flash before Tav was excusing herself from them. Swiftly stepping over to him with—that damnable look on her face.

Oh he knew those eyes, so drawn with her concern and on the verge of pity. Tav looked like that when she was about to do something so dreadfully kind it might make him wretch.

And he could not be the broken toy when she was being offered two shiny new ones.

“Astarion—” Tav began in that tone, and he had to preempt her.

“I know pet, tempting as it is, I simply must decline.”

“Yeah?” Tav utterly confounded him with that lifted smile. “That’s good.”

“Good..?” Astarion asked, his mind trying to race ahead. Find the traps and disarm them before they sprung.

She’d preached to him over and over again about his choice, and what he wanted and how that mattered to her for some reason.

Only for him to make a decision about the drow for her.

Shit.

It was a test. It had to be. She respected his choices, now he was expected to reciprocate.

“Ah I see.” Astarion inclined his head to her, a salacious smile on his lips. “You haven’t had much attention lately…it has been a while for us.”

Tav blinked, and then those bright eyes were on his, searching him out. The pale elf would cling to the façade by the skin of his fangs, if it meant he could keep her.

She turned, and Astarion prepared for the feeling of a stake through his heart.

“Well, if my partner isn’t interested, neither am I.” Tav brushed off the twins’ advances with as much grace as one could muster. Until they finally had the tact to move to other potential patrons.

She was already leading the way out of Sharess’ Caress before Astarion had recovered from his shock.

The cold night air near Baulder’s Gate finally woke him.

“You could have gone with them, you know.” He blurted, wondering why in the Hells she hadn’t. It wasn’t like he was satiating her hungers.

Astarion felt Tav shrug her shoulder through their linked hands. “I’m not interested in any little tryst if it’s at your expense.”

She said it so simple, so easy, as if it were hardly worth a second thought.

Astarion’s mind was still reeling, but he put on a smirk. “Stop being so kind to me; it almost makes me want to return the favor.” 

As if it were a debt he could ever repay her.

…

Hours later, Tav lay in her darkened room, sleep evading her. The soft click of a lock being picked made her tense, hand instinctively grasping the dagger beneath her pillow. But the familiar silhouette slipping through the door made her relax.

"Hello, my darling," Astarion purred as he approached, her darkvision letting her see how his ruby eyes glinted. “Haven’t you gotten accustom to me creeping into your bed?”

"It has been a moment since you came looking for a cuddle?" Tav teased softly, tilting her head. His appearance at this hour had her wondering. The dark of night and hushed voices already strummed tension in the air between them.

“I do seek…something akin to that.”

Astarion perched on the edge of the bed, long fingers skimming up her bare arm and leaving goosebumps in their wake. Despite all her thoughts trying to tame her reaction, for now.

"I merely wished to express my gratitude, my sweet. For standing by me, even knowing what I am. What I've done. And what I haven’t."

“What you…haven’t?” Her half-awake mind might be jumping to conclusions, surely. Twining their fingers together, Tav brought his hand to her lips, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles. "You never have to thank me for that."

Astarion's eyes shimmered suspiciously in the darkness before he blinked it away, his trademark smirk back in place. "I want to thank you," he purred, “Won’t you, let me?”

He moved then, pressing her back into the soft pillow she’d been having trouble sleeping on after so many nights spent in the dirt.

Though the familiar weight of him was already making the bed more appealing. Now, just like every time he fed from her, he cradled her skull and tilted her head back so tenderly. It was comforting, it was an intimate moment she was happy to share with him.

His eyes didn’t meet hers as he ducked his head. Usually he lingered, to make sure Tav was alright before his fangs pierced her flesh. So why did she feel lips caressing her neck?

Her fingers slid into his hair, trying to get a grip on herself as much as she was on his curls.

“Star, what’s going on?”

The chuckle he gave was at the base of her neck, lips and tongue teasing at her collarbones in a way that made her skin tingle.

“Returning the favor.” He purred. “You deserve it.”

Tav swallowed under his clever mouth, trying to hear what her mind was screaming at her before it could be drowned out by the sweet words and sweeter lips.

Suddenly his face was swimming before hers, still not letting her catch his eye as he cupped her cheek. “So very few people get what they deserve—you, as always, should be the exception.”

Astation, with his ethereal beauty and perfect words, had her stunned. It wasn’t until he lowered his mouth to hers that her mind caught up.

“I don’t deserve anything you don’t wish to give.” Tav managed against his mouth, giving a gentle tug to his hair to get him to pull back.

“My sweet…I very much wish to give.”

That silver tongue slipped right past her protesting lips.

…

The elf was certain he had her when those hands slipped from his hair to cup his face in her palms. Her thumbs stroked over his high cheekbones.

“Astarion, wait.” Tav breathed.

He stilled, pulling back, fear flickering over his features as he was sure he’d somehow hurt her—when he saw it.

That damnable look in her eyes.

“Wait—we’ve done nothing but the waiting.” He snapped.

And Tav, damn her, gave a softer look still. “I’m willing to wait longer, as long as it takes.”

Astarion's posture stiffened, his back becoming an iron rod as he sat upright. "Is that how you see me then?" He couldn't keep the defensive edge from seeping into his voice. Drawing it like a blade when he felt his throat was bared.

"All shattered on the inside? Some broken doll you no longer play with? Am I to be put on a shelf and never touched again?"

“Astarion, you aren’t—” She moved to touch him, but he rose abruptly, evading her reach.

He didn’t even know why he did it. But the way her hand fell back to the bed, dejected, hurt him just as the pain he saw on her face.

"I know you aren’t fragile," Tav said with conviction, eyes pleading for him to understand.

“Then what? Am I some charity case to you? Is that what you get off on?”

Astarion hated it the moment he said it. But, the fangs showed whenever vulnerability crept up on him.

She stayed silent, and he had to fill that void before it consumed him.

“I’m not some delicate boy with a broken heart. I have wants. And I can see that you have them too. So, why not?”

“Is that what you want?” Tav smothered his outrage like a blanket over a campfire.

His shoulders sagged under the weight of his uncertainty.

“I don’t know.” The words barely escaped his lips before they broke apart into whispers of self-doubt. “Gods, I don’t know how to do any of this.” A frustrated hand raked through his white curls.

He wanted her. He wanted to see her looks of want and he wanted to be the one to fulfill her desires.

He wanted to keep her.

She sat up, legs hanging off the bed. And his eyes were drawn to the bare skin of her thighs exposed by her loose sleep clothes.

“Astarion, what do you want?”

He stared down at her, red eyes probing for a hint of the right answer. What did she want him to say? He would say it.

But Tav held without giving an inch.

“Why do you always ask the most difficult things?”

"I’m sorry." she whispered back.

"Don’t. I want—no, I need to know that I am still wanted by you." The confession fell from his lips like a plea. "You who’ve given me so much and seen broken I am. You who’ve made me wonder if I do indeed have any pieces left of my own soul…” The words were on his tongue, but his throat constricted around baring his neck one last time. “Do you still want me?”

“I will always want you.” Tav’s reply came without hesitation or doubt.

Either he had gotten to sloppy to see it—or there was simply no guile in her.

Tav reached out, her hand finding his where he stood frozen. He could feel the tension coursing through him—an all too familiar vulnerability that he constantly tried to suppress.

“Then let me give you something in return.” He dropped to his knees before her, desperation etched into every feature. .“Please, Tav.”

She lifted the hand she held, cupping it in both of hers, before she pressed his touch against her chest. And he had a moment to hope, that maybe, she would just let him give a fraction of what she’d given him.

“You’ve given me everything already, my heart.”

A scornful snort burst from him, everything in him prepared to banish her romanticized drivel with a dose of reality.

“This,” Her fingers tightened around the fabric of his shirt over his chest. “Past the petty armor you wear. Beneath the pretty face and clever tongue,” She yanked him close before he could quip back.“That is what you give me; parts of you that you’ve given to no one else.”

When he looked at her then, he had no idea what she might see, even if he could use a mirror.

“Your kindness, your hurt, your wants. The truth of you. That’s what I want.”

“I can’t give—“ Astarion couldn’t get this damn silver tongue of his around a his words. “I don’t know what that is…who I am.”

“Then we can both find out. That’s all I ask of you.”

He swallowed hard as her words left him parched and speechless. The notion that he might still have something to offer, a piece of himself that was untouched.

Astarion found himself staring at her, wonder and disbelief battling for dominance in his gaze.

A gentleness tugged at Tav's lips. And for a fleeting moment, Astarion dared to believe that perhaps he could have this.

He moved up, but only to wrap his arms around her. To engulf her in his embrace. Just as that night when she wrapped her arms around him, and first showed him that there was affection, there was closeness, without the expectation of more.

Astarion would be just fine if he was helpless in her arms.

[lilacxquartz]

under his authority;

officer kenjaku x f!reader

plot: finally ridding yourself of your problematic ex, he comes back in the worst possible form — themes: yandere kenjaku, (eventually) willing reader, stalking, dubcon, manipulation, he/him pronouns for kenjaku, mundane au — w.c: 3.5k — a/n: considered making this a shorter one shot, but an idea wouldn’t leave my head — warnings: extremely dubious consent, but reader is willing by the end — masterlist • ao3

Every night before you headed off to sleep, you would take the extra effort to barricade yourself in your apartment, with all sorts of intricate preparations in place… just to keep him away. You’d lock the windows, put up a bar against the front door, tuck a chair underneath the door handle of your bedroom, and sleep with a knife within reach—just in case.

Deep down, however, you knew that it was all pointless in the long run. You could never truly get rid of him, not even if you traveled to the very ends of the earth (or left it entirely). Your ex was simply not the type to let go and even though nothing had yet happened in your year alone without him, you knew that from the moment that you’d let your guard down, that he’d strike.

See, you knew him perfectly well and the sly way that he approached every little intricacy in life. He dated you for a couple of years, bending and twisting your life into all sorts of directions like a puppet on a string, swaying and meddling with the cross, having you thinking that you were the one in the wrong the entire time when it was his manipulation having you feel that way all along.

At some point, you woke up to it all however, and simply just left—choosing to start somewhere else entirely, ready to put up a fight if need be—but to your surprise, he never followed you. This is why perhaps you knew that you were in more danger than you could comprehend because if you knew one thing about him, it was that he had a penchant for holding onto grudges (and never letting anything, or anyone, go).

Such a suspicion was sorely implied however, when out from the corner of your eye on every other occasion, you would spot a glimpse of him. For a while, you thought that they had finally gotten to you; that they had driven you to complete and utter insanity, if you must have been seeing them in places that didn’t make sense. You sought help for that one however you could; through countless reports made through a system that didn’t take you seriously for whatever reason and then, later, through the means of therapy, which did help for a while. Just as you thought that he was out of your life, however, he started showing up again and in full force, too.

Your reports, just like before, meant nothing at all. All of those reports of stalking and someone lingering around your home, of your windows being scratched on and at your doors rattling during the odd hours of the night, only to be dismissed with the ask of ‘have they hurt you yet?’ or the claim that the evidence was still inefficient, so please only make such a report again if you have something to prove.

Such a ridiculous system, but that’s why you went to such great lengths to take things into your own hands. You had no choice, so what else were you otherwise supposed to do?

You were certain that all of those strange happenings were him, after all.

You weren’t going crazy.

It wasn’t like moving on was helping, anyway. His presence was constant and overwhelming, following you around like your own shadow. You were perhaps being driven crazy indeed, but it wasn’t your own doing as everyone else had otherwise claimed. You knew that deep down, these weren’t desperate illusions cast from a worn-down mind, but rather that they were strikingly real and he was surely toying with you, unable to let you go after a hasty, unspoken breakup, hell-bent on punishing you for daring to have a spine.

And just like every other time, everything was all locked up and ready to go; you were as safe as you could get. You did your usual clean sweep of everything and found nothing that could hint at danger, and yet, just as you had settled into bed… you heard something from the inside.

Tearing upright from your bed, you grabbed your phone in a hurry, dialing the police and urging that this time, this wasn’t a drill, that there was someone actively in your home so to please, please, send someone over and just because the claim was so desperate and dire, they did indeed send someone, reassuring you that it would be soon and to please, stop fretting so much. Such a soothing gesture threw you off guard a little, the pattern of the sentence piquing your interest as something once familiar, but your sleepy mind didn’t make the full connection just yet.

You opened up the door as soon as they knocked too, not thinking all that hard about just how on earth they knew which door in the block called for such a thing to begin with. You were exhausted, after all, worn down from a full year of constantly doubting your own mind, of course, your judgment was hazy. All it took was a bit of correctly applied confidence and a smooth, reassuring voice to render you compliant, to slip downstairs along with them under the claim that you would be going to the station to take a statement before you realised the chilling truth that slipped right past your nose.

That voice.

Those mannerisms.

It was him—you were with him.

You tugged at the car door, desperate to suddenly break free and yet he had you securely confined right in the back of his vehicle, driving you off into some unknown location without a single second to spare.

“You… how did you—” you spat out, your voice faltering in disbelief.

“You know, you should really practice better judgment when you’re tired, hm?” He spoke, his voice sickeningly condescending yet calm and sweet. “And now you’re in trouble. Oh dear.”

In protesting refusal, you kicked at the seat with your heel in an attempt to get them to slow the vehicle at least and plot your escape and yet, he seemed to handle such violent complaint with calculated ease, as if knowing your attempts were futile, as if knowing that he had already won.

“Let me go, you asshole,” you spat, continuing to knock on the seat.

Yet, they continued to remain infuriatingly composed, adjusting the mirror in the dark, allowing you to catch a glimpse of their coal-black eyes in the passing streetlights that phased through the road. He clicked his tongue in amusement before swerving the car off to an emptier road, forcing your body to hurl to the side in a grounding warning. “Careful,” he said, his voice laced with a cold threat, “you’re in no position to make such demands, now are you?” he asked, the reminder of your compromised circumstances hanging in the air. “Believe it or not, my role is genuine in this exchange and I could approve a warrant for your arrest if you’re not careful, so you would be wise to calm down and listen to me. How does that sound?”

“Arrest?” you scoffed. “For what?”

“Well, it could be anything, really,” he mused, calmly driving once more, “but let’s try those narcotics that I planted in your home—quite bad ones too, they would get you into a whole wealth of trouble—especially given those paranoid reports you’ve been making. Am I really that bad that you consider me a daily nuisance? I haven’t done anything that wrong, surely.”

You blinked. “You have been stalking me.”

However, all that he could do was huff out a humourless laugh as he composed a response, “Interesting claims, but I think you’ll find that I have evidence of me being busy at work for the good remainder of the year, but…” he paused, considering a pint, “how sweet of you to think of me so often. Have I been on your mind that often? Maybe you’re seeing things you want to see.”

“I wouldn’t want to see you at any time at all, you damned stalker—” you repeated, only for him to interrupt you.

“—stalker?” he asked in a completely deadpan tone, though there was a thin jab of mockery laced within it. He parked the vehicle off to the side of a lesser traveled road where the lights couldn’t quite reach before sitting with you in a stagnant silence for a while. When he finally broke the quiet, he spoke up again in a hushed tone, as if careful to not be heard (even though it was just the two of you in the car), “your claims aren’t entirely baseless, I have been… keeping tabs, but I have been careful,” he admitted, “I have been eliminating all traces of evidence from the moment that anything surfaced, ridding myself of anything compromising. You can try and rattle me out to the authorities if you wish, I won’t stop you, but you won’t get very far.”

“Was the break-up that significant that you can’t leave me alone?” you redirected.

Another silence brewed between the two of you, but then he quickly composed himself. “How silly of you to make such outrageous claims as if we were an item to begin with, but, I suppose that you could say that our time together was significant enough for me to be… conflicted about our parting, for a lack of better words.”

“That’s a long and pointless answer to mean ‘yes’, but alright, you do you, Kenjaku,” you mumbled, crossing your arms as you sank back into the seat.

“And what would admitting such a thing do?” he asked, drumming his fingers along the hard leather of the wheel. “We were together for a moment and just as things were getting interesting, you walked out on me,” he added, not quite losing his track of words but still pausing for a moment to school their demeanour back into something better controlled. “...Let’s say that we did leave on a bad note, surely you can understand my confusion and… interest in picking up where things had left off?”

“I understand the need for wanting answers,” you admitted, “but it doesn’t justify stalking, surely.”

“It justifies my need for closure,” Kenjaku corrected, “and now that I have you back in my hands, I think you’re overdue for some long-awaited discipline, don’t you think? Luckily for you, I’m surprisingly fair with how I deliver it, so I won’t hurt you, but I do have something in mind for the way you humiliated me.”

“Humiliated?” you scoffed yet again, although given his lack of immediate reply, you had an uneasy wave of dread pass you by with the hanging implication of what was yet to come. Something felt off, but they weren’t being clear with their delivery.

Before you knew it, he suddenly got out of the car and slammed the door shut, leaving you alone in the back of the police car for a beat, and then, without warning, tore open the back door, yanking you right outside. You landed on your bottom initially, but then he leaned you forward, pressing your chest against the dirt and cuffing your wrists right behind your back.

Pulling you up after, he slammed you into his car, caging you in with his looming overhead frame, making you feel suddenly quite small and trapped. He leaned in with his breath hot against your neck, allowing his pressing arousal to push into the small of your back while holding you in place.

“Humiliation is a two-way street, you know,” he whispered as he pulled down your jeans to your knees with your underwear following suit, “and I don’t think I can forgive such abandonment, at least not so soon.”

You remained frozen in place, realising exactly what he was planning to do, letting him talk as words refused to leave your own lips, “I always did like the lack of fight you put up during our time together,” he purred, “I bet it’s because you secretly like submitting to me like this, huh?”

His words were intentionally full of spite and mockery, but you were still confused and barely recovered from the extreme relationship they had you trapped in prior; it was an overwhelming time that left you with a piled-up emotional burden and nothing else beyond that point… but their touch admittedly, always succeeded in making you feel good in a way that nothing else or nobody else could compare. So skilled was the feel of his fingers over your skin—the only time he would ever listen to you.

“And what happened to your snark?” Kenjaku hummed, unzipping his slacks, dropping the pair to gather at his thighs, “I thought you had a lot to say just now? Did that all disappear too? Do you want me to make you feel good again? I bet none of those late-night hookups you’ve been having have been satisfying you the same way I ever could.”

It was humiliating alright, he knew exactly what you wanted and how you wanted. You loved it when he bit at your neck and when he pulled your hair just enough to make you feel good, but without long-lasting pain. You loved the way his hands would smack and smooth over your tender skin, bruising galaxies from his feverish touch. How his teeth would graze along the sensitive spots, making your life feel like putty in his hands; so malleable and yet so rigid, and yet, you knew fully well that he was bad for you.

He didn’t give you much time beyond that point to seek out confirmation, readily lining up the tip of their hardened cock to press into your soaked entrance, finding it almost peculiar at just how desperately soaked you already seemed to be. With a gentle push inside, he buried his shaft within your slick walls, easing into you slowly, taking his good, sweet time to get used to the feel of you again. Almost achingly slow, he pushed himself into your hilt and then back out, feeling almost insultingly delicate.

Kenjaku’s lips then lined up with your neck, peppering lazy kisses against your throat, but not surrendering to the heat of the moment like you almost desperately, guiltily craved. Such burning need that was evidenced by the full year of not being able to let you go and yet, now that he had you—he held himself off.

Albeit involuntarily, you drawled off a low whirring whine, arching your back into his form, letting him deepen his shaft into your core, yet never once accelerating as you hoped. Kenjaku remained infuriatingly composed and controlled, never once losing his cool, gently rolling his hips out and then back in, letting the need build up in you, yet never satisfying it.

“Such a needy thing,” he murmured, “what’s the magic word?”

“P-pl—” you were about to say, stopping yourself right as you were about to give in.

Kenjaku sucked at his teeth. “We’ll get there. You could never make me soft.”

He continued to roll his hips back and forth against you, nice and slow, pressing your body straight up against the cold, uncomfortably hard surface of the car with his uniform uncomfortably digging into your back. The coarse material roughly chafed through the thin fabric of the top you wore, rubbing painfully against you as all the wrong sensations were tackled instead.

It was painful, almost, and yet you felt your composure letting slip earlier than you would have liked, wanting nothing more than to give into the moment and for once, forget about him and what he put you through prior and just… feel good.

“P-please,” you gasped and then bit your lips, curling them into your mouth to stifle the remainder of the confession—humiliating, indeed.

He stilled for a second and you swore that you could feel his eyes bore into you with an almost feral resolve. For a while, he didn’t say a single thing and then, without warning, you cried out a choked-out whimper without registering exactly what had happened.

Suddenly, a deep, searing pain flooded your senses, making your eyes well with tears and spill in a matter of seconds. The realisation hit just a moment later, recognising the sensation as pain as he thrust repeatedly into your teased cunt at full force; his cock hitting right where it hurt and then without stopping, doing it again and again. Your reactions were poorly timed as you moaned out of sync with his feverish movements, pistoning himself into you with the driving force of someone crazed with reckless abandon. With such sawing aggression that emphasised just how needy he truly was, no matter the claims that otherwise left his lips, pinning the blame on you.

His hands then snaked around your chest but didn’t settle, reaching to wrap around your neck instead. His palms squeezed against your sensitive skin, choking out whatever pretty little noises you had left behind.

Your body recoiled slightly in pained protest as he continued to impale you; his hot breath rolling steamy pants of air that prickled against your clammy skin, pushing you closer towards the edge. His breathing became sloppier too, as he fucked himself as rough as he could into your sopping heat, quite literally spearing his length into you, until he couldn’t anymore. With one stuttering, rough, and final thrust, he melted into you entirely, crashing his body against yours as he filled you up with his own pent-up need. For a moment after, his hips gently bucked, albeit seemingly involuntarily as he sought to ride out the aftermath of his near-violent orgasm, only parting when he could quickly recompose himself and regain control over both of the situation—as well as you.

And after a while of such recovery—after helping you find your balance and dress you back up with almost attentive care—a darker thought slipped into his mind. Helping you sit back inside of the car, into the front this time, he let you quietly recover as he drove off somewhere else this time. Not to your home, nor to his, but… somewhere else entirely, because, if he was being real about you, he already knew that you wouldn’t give up on trying to get him into trouble—wouldn’t you? You silly thing. Oh no, he had to do something about that, and luckily for you, he had no such intention to kill you off, because you were the only thing in his life that he wanted to keep around for good and he had a good idea that you wanted this too, even if you were being so stubborn lately.

“Wait,” you piped up at long last, “where are we going?”

Kenjaku snorted out a half-laugh, finding your late realisation to be amusing before clearing his throat and answering you, “I’m not letting you go this time, so we’re taking a little detour—I’m going to keep you holed up with me forever,” he revealed, “maybe in chains at first as I figure out something more… permanent, but it’s all for a good cause, you know?”

You huffed, only to be interrupted, “A good cau—”

“—yes,” he replied in a matter-of-fact tone, “a good cause. I want to keep you forever, but I can’t have you running off on me. At least not again.”

You found yourself reacting in a way that surprised you, trying to sink into the seat again and kicking at whatever you could, but not as a means of escape, but rather out of frustration at your own mind. You could only respond in an uncertain murmur, still exhausted from the rough encounter, “You’re impossible, just… let me go,” you requested instead, although not sounding convincing to either him or yourself, knowing that it would probably be easier to just surrender instead.

“Oh you”, he endearingly cooed, smoothing his hand over your thigh, “I can’t do that. Not to you. But just know this, if you try to run away from me again, I’ll figure something out, maybe plant something compromising on you,” he replied, pausing for a moment to plot something out on the spot, “maybe have you arrested and locked up, because that way I can be sure to keep you in one place forever.”

You tilted your head off to the side, catching a glimpse of his thinly concealed mania burning in the depths of his eyes. “You wouldn’t go through that much, would you? You’re not that insane…”

Kenjaku however just shrugged, finding the calm conversation to be amusing, knowing that by even humouring him to this extent, you had already given up. “Just keep it in mind, will you? If it ever did come down to that, then guess who’s going to be the one to get you out to begin with?”

He let the implication hang in the air for a moment longer, before pushing you back further into the seat and finally letting go. “Anyway, rest up, will you? You have a lot of apologising left to do when we’re there and I fully accept you to be awake and alert for everything I have in store for you.”

You gulped, but you did as you were told, finally broken down enough to listen to him at long, long last.

[jamieenthusiast]

I yap about Forever + Falling with you

Forever being the end song to murder drones- and its lyrics being what they are

gives me the impression Murder Drones was a big love story about opening up and trust hidden under mounds of comedy and violence

And I dont mean that it ACTUALLY is, its more just.. a silly little feeling I get when i listen to it

Theres something about the song thats so... cozy? So like, softly spoken. A very hummable melody from one lover to another.

also falling with you, like what the fuck

never in my life have I felt a track was so carefully crafted- and prepared, carved out for two specific characters in one specific moment.

She made the choice to sacrifice herself- for him. In her eyes it was the end and if at the end of everything she could guarantee the life of one person it was going to be the one she loves, she didnt know what would be at the other end,

The thing is, he wanted to be there for her. Even when they're knocking on deaths door, he needs to be there.

Its like trust fall exercise, except the focus isnt on 'catch me' cause they'd never let the other fall,

its about making sure they dont fall when youre not looking. It hurts both parties, to crash without warning and to see the one you love fall

I *love* that they dont speak here. She looks to the side, shifting her glances before looking at him.

An unspoken guilt ridden apology.

The response he chooses?

forgiveness,

Even if the result of her actions hurt him- her intentions were good and meant to be entirely in favor of him

And in this moment, with their current history and with a yet to be seen future, he forgives her,

Cause at the very least, they're together again. He could save her.

And her look just, screams thank you to me.

Thank you for forgiving me, saving me-

for everything :) /ref

lighthearted preparation for whats to come :)

legitimately, what she says, reiterating herself "die mad bitch"

knowing theyre heading into the end of the world to prevent it?? Theyre going off to the fucking trenches together, key word this time being together

And then the horrible unexpected !

Uzi is ripped away from N, confronted with what her home has become, the universe is practically screaming at her to fix it, pushing her towards the end without mercy

But shes not doing it alone, she cant do it alone, not again, not this time

And he wouldnt let her

The universe could endlessly attempt to wield its cosmic grasp to push these two apart but itd never work, itd never end with them alone

Their love- their pure devotion to each other,

is so celestial in its own right

Not super related to my ramble but i love that in them becoming official (I will not call this a confession, N definitely confessed the previous episode)

Uzis so.. wagh.. her eyes.

That trademark look of panic or worry- I mean what would you expect from the black sheep of the colony? Being excluded on the daily, left to your own abandoned devices?? The reassurance she was requesting just, ughh.. my heart...

and the way. He fucking looks at her

Its so, soft. He knows she has not a thing to worry about. His heart is completely and utterly hers. Where most would die for their love, he lives for her.

The universe would be dammed to ever try and separate pure unbridled love like this ever again

ERM< ANYWAY that was super gay ew idk why im like. obsessed with their relatinshuio ahhajfhdgjbsjhfm someone blow me up

[anamina0]

Echoes

Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V , Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII

Final part

Themes/warnings : mentions of death, mentions of blood, kissing , a lot of anger, a lot of unsolved emotions, fluff

Word count: 10.3 k

You stood up, wiping away the tear tracks on your face. They burned. You had rehearsed this conversation for so long, countless times in your head. You had pictured it, imagined what it would feel like, but now that the moment was here, all your plans felt like they were useless. Words just wouldn’t come out, no matter how hard you tried to find them. This conversation… you’d dreaded it, wished for it to never come. But deep down, you knew it couldn’t be avoided. You couldn’t lie to Vi. Not anymore. Not about something this important, even though doing this meant hurting the one person you had promised you’d never betray. But in the end, you had no choice. Vi deserved to know the truth, even if it felt like you were tearing apart everything that you held so close. This wasn’t your decision anymore. But telling her the truth meant tearing down everything you’d built between you—betraying your best friend, the person who meant so much to you. But this truth wasn’t yours to keep, and Faye had made sure of that.

“Shit,” you whispered under your breath, glancing at Vi. She was standing across from you, her confusion only deepening. She had no idea her world was about to change in a heartbeat, just like yours had. You were pacing now, hands shaking, voice unsteady. You couldn’t seem to calm down.

“I have no idea how to say this,” you mumbled. The words felt foreign in your mouth, as if they didn’t belong to you at all. No amount of thinking, no hours of preparation, could make them feel right. Your heart thundered in your chest.

“You’re freaking me out,” Vi said, her voice small, something almost fragile in it. She sank down onto the couch, trying to settle herself, though it was clear she was more anxious with every passing second. “Just tell me, okay? Whatever you’re scared of… it’s easier to just rip the Band-Aid off.”

You winced at her words. It felt as though she was already anticipating bad news. You looked down, blinking rapidly to push back the sting of more tears, trying to steady yourself before you spoke again. Taking a deep breath, you sat down next to her, slowly reaching for her hand.

“Before I say anything, just… know that you are the last person I ever want to hurt. Last person I’d want to betray,” you said quietly. Your hands were trembling as you held hers, desperate to make her understand, even though you knew it wouldn’t make things any easier. “You mean a lot to me. More than I’ve ever told you. I swear.”

Vi’s eyes softened, her gaze tender as she looked at you. There was a brief pause, a hint of something in the way she breathed. It seemed she knew, without you having to say it, that something had gone terribly wrong. She didn’t smile back, but she squeezed your hand, as if to remind you that she was with you, even through whatever this was.

“I know,” she murmured, her voice thick with something unsaid. There was sadness creeping into her voice now. “Just… say it. Please.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at her for too long, your heart growing heavy as you tried to find the right words—words that might hurt her but were true, no matter how painful they were.

“Is it about Ellie?” she asked, her voice quieter now, as though she was already guessing where this was headed. “She came back, and I… I know there’s something between you two, still.” Her voice almost cracked as she spoke Ellie’s name. You could feel her worry growing.

The panic in your chest rose. You shook your head quickly, frantic. “No, no,” you blurted out, desperate to stop that train of thought. “It’s not about Ellie. It will never be about her. Me and Ellie—” You paused. “We’re done, Vi.”

You could see the uncertainty shift in her face, like a weight lifted a little, but her concern still hovered between you, as she waited for whatever would come next.

“Okay,” she said softly. “I’m listening.”

“Here it comes,” you whispered, taking in a shaky breath. You still couldn’t bring yourself to look her in the eyes. You had no idea how much more of this you could handle. “Do you remember that name Ellie mentioned? The girl who found my brother?” Your voice cracked just at the thought of it, but you pushed forward.

Vi’s brow furrowed for a moment, her lips pressing tight as she tried to recall the name.

“Kinda,” she said slowly. “There was… something about an F, right? But I can’t really remember it. ”

“Faye,” you replied. You almost didn’t want to say it. Saying her name felt like it would break everything all over again. “Faye… does that name mean anything to you?” You almost couldn’t look at her, but you forced yourself to, to catch the faintest flicker of realization—or maybe something worse—in Vi’s eyes.

She hesitated, eyes narrowing slightly as she thought.

“No,” she said after a moment, the disappointment obvious. “Maybe there was someone with that name in my past? Someone from prison, I don’t know… I don’t think they were important, though. I’d remember.”

“She is my best friend, Vi,” you whispered so softly you were almost afraid she wouldn’t hear you. “Or… she was. I met her few years ago. She was new in town—didn’t know anyone. I was the first person she got close to there.” You paused, holding back another wave of tears.

Vi was still confused, still searching your face for the meaning behind your words. You could see her trying to piece things together, her mind whirring with uncertainty.

“She would tell me all these crazy stories,” you continued, your voice growing more ragged. “Stories about her past, her family… She’d talk about her sister, the things they used to do, their life, everything. At first, I didn’t believe her. She never gave names, or clear details, just crazy stories… But over time, I got used to it .”

“Okay…” Vi said, barely above a whisper, her eyes narrowing, not quite understanding but getting closer.

“She told me to move here, when Ellie left..” you pressed on, your voice growing weaker with every word. “Told me to come to Zaun under one condition.”

Vi’s eyes flickered toward yours. “What condition?”

“That I would never, ever tell anyone about her,” you said, voice barely audible now, the truth crashing down harder than ever before. “I promised her that I would never tell anyone, that no one could know about Faye.” You felt your stomach turn, disgust at yourself filling you as you confessed the truth.

Vi was quiet for a moment, clearly taken aback.

“But you’re telling me. Why?”

You could barely even breathe. Your hands were shaking as you clenched them into fists. It was now or never, and there was no way you could run from it anymore.

“fuck,” you whispered, barely able to find the strength to speak, “I think Faye is your sister, Vi. I think… I think it’s Jinx. Powder. I think she’s still alive. And I think it’s her.”

“What?” she breathed, the word barely a whisper. “My sister is dead. Is that some kind of sick joke?” Her voice cracked. The anger came crashing over her, and you could feel it swirling in the air, suffocating you both.

"No Vi,” you began, your own voice a mere rasp now, thick with emotion. “I had no clue when I met you. But when you started telling me stories about your sister, about your past… It sounded so much like the things Faye had told me. It was identical, Vi. The same, same way she used to talk about her sister. That’s when I started thinking… Maybe. Maybe it’s her. So I had to find out. I went to Savika.”

Vi stared at you, and that rage started to rise—her hands trembling at her sides, chest heaving.

“And you went to Savika… you went behind my back?” she snapped, her voice rising, disbelief and fury pouring from her. “Why didn’t you come to me, huh? Why not me?”

“I couldn’t,” you gasped, trying to explain the confusion inside of you.

“I couldn’t! I promised Faye I wouldn’t say anything! I didn’t want to doubt her… but I had to make sure. I had to know the truth, Vi. I never meant for any of this to happen, but she’s alive—alive, Vi—out there, somewhere, living a completely different life!”

“You went behind my back to do your little investigation,to Savika?!” The words slipped like a dagger between you, shattering whatever tenuous hold you had over the situation. “I thought you trusted me,. Why couldn’t you trust me with the truth?”

You couldn’t speak. The sting of her words hit you harder than anything. She was breaking apart before you, and there was nothing you could do to stop it. Vi stood now, hands clenched into fists at her sides, her breath shallow, furious, betrayed.

“Just go.” Her voice was a broken whisper of fury. “Please… just go.”

Every step you took toward the door felt like it would be the last. You had no words. No way to fix this. The silence between you was heavier than any words ever could be. All you heard as you walked away was the faint sound of your own heart breaking. You didn’t want to leave. But Vi’s words hit you like a wave, cold and sharp, crashing through everything you’d known between the two of you. She didn’t want you here. Not now. Not anymore.Every step you took toward the door felt like it tore a little bit more from you, from what you’d shared. The silence between you wasn’t just heavy—it was suffocating. It was the kind of silence that pushed you to the edge, forced you to confront the reality that everything you’d thought would bring you closer had pulled you apart. Vi didn’t look at you anymore. She just stared at the floor, arms folded across herself, trying to shield the pain you knew was there but couldn’t reach. You hesitated for a moment, one foot out the door, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave completely. Not yet. Not when everything in you wanted to fix this. But the words—the anger, the disbelief in her eyes—they weighed on you, tied you down like a rope around your chest.

“Vi…” Your voice was small, trembling. You took one step back. “Vi, please… Talk to me. I didn’t—”

“Don’t,” she snapped, her voice harsh, cutting you off before you could finish. She wasn’t looking at you now; her gaze was focused somewhere past you, her jaw tight as if to keep herself from breaking. But you knew she was already shattered. Her whole world had crumbled, and you were standing at the edge of it, useless, helpless. She was so far from you now, farther than you’d ever been before, and it was all your fault.

“I can’t do this, ” she whispered, the rawness in her voice clawing at your heart. The hurt was palpable, burning. “I can’t… I can’t look at you right now. I can’t be here with you after what you’ve done. After what you’ve kept from me.”

You nodded numbly, still unable to look away from her.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, but the words felt hollow, barely enough to express everything you needed to say. But even now, standing on the threshold of what used to be your shared space, you knew it wouldn’t change anything. “I never meant for any of this, Vi. I just—I had to know the truth.”

“And now you’ve destroyed everything.” Her words, though quiet, stung worse than any sharp retort. “Everything I thought I could trust. Everything we had… it’s gone now. And I can’t—” She shook her head, cutting herself off again, her hands trembling in fists by her sides.

Tears welled up in your eyes, a bitter, salty wave threatening to break, but you refused to let them spill. You were the one who had broken everything, who had chosen to stay silent when you should’ve spoken the truth from the start. And now you had nothing left. No words. No promises. Only the reality that Vi’s anger, her betrayal—was something you had earned. You had to leave. You could feel it in your bones. But how could you? How could you leave like this?

“Vi…” Your voice was breaking now, a sob threatening to tear free.

She was silent for a long time, and for a brief, fleeting moment, you thought maybe—maybe she would look at you again, listen, understand that you never wanted this. That you never wanted to hurt her. But she didn’t. Her eyes stayed fixed forward, her breath coming shallowly, the emptiness between you expanding with every second.

“I can’t do this,” she said again, voice small, and yet somehow it was final. As if saying your name, one more time, would be all it took to leave the pieces of you both scattered, beyond repair. “Just go. Please. Go.”

A thousand things rushed through you then, but none of them mattered anymore. With her words, she had sealed it—this was the end. You couldn’t fix it, couldn’t undo it. She was shutting you out. You turned, your hand on the doorknob heavy as it grasped it, shaking just like the rest of you. There was a tightness in your chest, something aching, something worse than regret, as you looked over your shoulder once more. There she was—Vi, the woman you loved, and yet she felt so distant now. So unreachable. So far.

And then, quietly, softly—hopelessly—you left. With no one to look back to, no chance at redemption, only the bitter taste of your own mistakes lingering in the air behind you.

What were you supposed to do now? You couldn’t even bring yourself to think clearly. The silence of Vi’s apartment still haunted you, the echo of your conversation echoing in the space. It felt like your soul had been torn open, leaving nothing but raw, aching void inside you. You knew it wouldn’t end well, you always knew. The heavy realization sat like a stone in your chest. What could you do when the weight of it all was too much to bear? You headed up the stairs, your heart racing, mind buzzing with confusion.Stopping in front of your apartment, your stomach twisted as you remembered Ellie. It just felt like one more mess to clean up. You didn’t have the strength to face her either, not after what just happened. You didn’t want to face anyone, but you had nowhere else to go.

“I’ll just go in, go to my room, lock the door,” you murmured to yourself, grasping for anything that would give you some control over this chaos. But deep down, you knew there was no escaping from what was left of you after Vi.

You opened the door to find Ellie on your couch, her head slightly tilted as she sat up to face you. Her voice was soft, almost cautious.

“I didn’t expect you so soon,” she remarked, as if she already knew the weight in the air.

You didn’t reply, instead heading straight for your bedroom. With a quiet click, you closed the door, shutting the world out. And when you lay down, it felt like the weight of the universe pressed down on you. You weren’t okay—far from it. You were furious. At everything. At Ellie. At Vi. At Faye. At your brother. But mostly, at yourself. How had you let it go this far? You had known all along, hadn’t you? You let yourself fall for her, and no matter what you did, you’d be left alone, heartsick again, picking up the pieces of another broken story. Everyone you ever loved disappeared. They died - like your mother and sister, they left- like Ellie and your brother, or—like with Vi—you were the one who destroyed it. You had no idea how long you laid there before the gentle knocking brought you back to the world around you.

“Hey…” Ellie’s voice called quietly through the door. She paused, unsure of how to proceed. “I know I’m the last person you want to talk to, but… I’m here, you know.”

You didn’t move at first. You were too deep in your own misery to acknowledge her words. But you couldn’t let her see you like this, not with the fragile walls you had left. Not when the feelings swelled and pushed against every broken part of you.

“I’m fine, Ellie. Just go away,” you called back, but you knew she could hear the lie in your voice.

A few seconds of silence passed before the door creaked open, and there she was, standing just inside, the vulnerability radiating from her, soft and unsure.

“I said I’m fine,” you repeated more forcefully. You turned away from her, angry with yourself for even allowing her in. " I don't need your pity"

Ellie didn’t leave. Instead, you felt her sit next to you, her hand lightly resting against your back. You almost recoiled from the touch, but some broken, fragile part of you clung to it.

“I have no clue what happened there,” she started softly, “With her…” Her voice faltered before continuing. “But I know you. I know you wouldn’t come back here if something bad didn’t happen. And I…”

“And you think you’re the one who will fix this?” you snapped, finally turning to face her. You wiped at your tear-streaked face and let anger fill the space instead of grief. “Of all people… you.”

She didn’t flinch, just met your eyes with understanding.

“No,” she said, almost too quietly. “I don’t deserve to be here. But you… should work things out with her.” Ellie managed a soft, almost cynical laugh. “God, I can’t believe I’m saying this…” She sighed. “I’m so sorry. You should know, no matter what happened between you two, you’re not the one who should be let go of. There’s no one on Earth more deserving of love than you.”

You froze. Those words hit differently than anything you expected from her. This wasn’t the same Ellie who abandoned you. But what difference did it make now?

“Why are you telling me this?” you whispered, voice trembling like a secret you didn’t want to admit.

Her gaze softened, the truth pouring out of her in hesitant whispers. “Because I wouldn’t forgive myself otherwise. I’ve spent all this time trying to forget you, trying to justify everything, but all I learned was that I should never have let you go.” She swallowed hard before continuing. “You were the best thing in my life. I should’ve never left… but I did, and now… now, I see the same thing happening with her.”

“You know,” you whispered, your voice barely a breath, “just a few months ago, I would’ve given anything to hear those words from you.” You couldn’t meet her eyes as you spoke—your gaze drifting to the floor, to the empty space between you both that felt impossible to close. “Despite all the anger, all the hatred, all the sadness I’ve felt because of you, I would’ve given anything, Ellie…anything to have you back in my life. But I thought you’d never come. I thought I ruined it, I thought I did something wrong, that you stopped loving me.” The words spilled from you, rough and jagged, like secrets whispered in the dark that shouldn’t see the light of day.

Ellie’s breath caught. Her hands were trembling just enough for you to feel the electric pull between you. She leaned in, close enough that you could feel presence so dangerously close, like she might kiss you right then and there, as if the words weren’t enough. She wanted you, craved it—the warmth of your skin, the softness of your touch, the kiss that she once gave with ease, now something so desperate in her eyes.

“But…” she breathed softly, barely able to pull back, searching your face like she didn’t understand the barrier between you. She needed you to finish it, to say something that would bring her closer, something that might bridge the gap of time and hurt.

“But what?” She sounded wrecked, breathless from whatever she could still feel between you.

“But it’s too late now,” you breathed back, pulling away. To give in, to fall into the familiar ache that was both torture and pleasure in her touch. But you couldn’t—not anymore. Not when Vi haunted you and your heart felt torn to shreds by what used to be.

Ellie laughed bitterly, trying to mask the sting, but you could feel her pain as sharp as your own.

“Because of that punk, huh?” She smirked, trying to joke, but it hurt her, just like it hurt you. You could tell.

You swallowed. Her attempt at humor didn’t hide what she was really feeling: jealousy, regret, loss.

“Yes. Because of Vi,” you said slowly, the words cutting like glass in your throat. Saying her name hurt more than you imagined it would, more than you allowed yourself to admit. “But I think we’re quite alike, Ellie,” you added, your voice thick with a truth you could no longer deny.

Ellie raised an eyebrow, confused, wanting to know what was coming. “In what?” she asked quietly, as if this conversation were opening old wounds that she hadn’t wanted to open.

“I just ruined everything,” you whispered, and the confession tore through your chest like a storm you couldn’t stop. “Just like you ruined everything with us. We both destroyed what we had, and now it’s…gone.”

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, she didn’t know how to reply. But there it was: the truth of it all. Your fractured past bleeding into this moment, and she was watching you unravel before her. It wasn’t what she expected, but somehow, it was real.

“What happened?” Ellie asked after a long, painful pause. Her voice was shaky, not like the confident, cocky girl you knew, but like someone grasping for understanding.

You took a long, trembling breath and dropped your head into your hands, pushing against the painful weight in your chest. Every inch of you ached. Your legs longed for something solid, something to keep you from falling apart completely. You invited her to sit beside you without thinking, your walls finally crumbling just enough to let her back in. Despite everything, despite how badly she’d broken you, you needed someone tonight. And the only person left in the ruins was Ellie. She sat beside you, quiet, her warmth almost suffocating in the still air. But it wasn’t the warmth that mattered now, it was the fact that she was there, and somehow, you needed it. The night stretched on as the words flowed between you, uncaring of the time. You told her everything—about Vi, about Faye. You talked about your brother still being alive, how he was caught up in this mess. You didn’t spare any detail, letting the painful truths tumble out of your mouth like they were the only thing left. It felt good. Good to tell someone, even if it was the wrong someone, even if it didn’t change anything. Somewhere in the middle of all that, the hate that had lived inside you for so long started to dissolve. It wasn’t gone—nothing like that—but the weight had been lifted, even just a little. The hours passed, her soft footsteps occasionally disturbing the quiet, waking you from the momentary respite you’d found in conversation. And then it hit you, a feeling so sharp you nearly choked on it. She wasn’t staying. Ellie was leaving. Again.

“I think I’m having déjà vu,” you said, the sarcastic chuckle falling from your lips with an edge of bitterness. You walked out of the room, letting the reality sink in, leaning against the wall. And for the first time tonight, you finally looked at her like she was a stranger, not someone who mattered to you at all.

“I’m sorry,” Ellie said softly, her voice flat, no trace of her usual strength. She was packing her things, her hands shaking slightly as she folded the straps of her bag together, organizing it like she was setting her life down for the last time. “I was going to say goodbye, but you had a rough night. I didn’t want to wake you yet.”

You leaned against the doorframe, numb, trying to laugh through it.

“Well, at least this time I knew you were leaving.” You wished you could feel something, anything, other than the painful ache of this goodbye you were forced to live with.

But Ellie didn’t laugh. She didn’t even look at you. She was busy throwing her backpack over her shoulder, coming closer with each small step. The space between you felt like an eternity, like it had always been too much. Too many walls.

“Just before I go…” she started quietly, and her hands were nervously twisting together like she was grasping for the right words. But this wasn’t the same confident girl that once was so sure. She faltered now. “I want you to know… I meant every word I said yesterday.”

You didn’t react, didn’t move, barely blinked. She stared at you, her gaze holding more than you could handle in that moment. You stayed still, terrified to respond, not knowing if it was your heart breaking again or just exhaustion pulling at the edges of your resolve.

“I love you,” Ellie whispered, and those words burned into your skin. There was regret in her voice, sorrow in the way she lingered there, unsure of what she could fix, of what was even worth trying anymore. “And I’m sorry for what I did.”

She moved toward you then, slow and hesitant, but the air between you crackled, pulsing, as if neither of you could quite control it anymore. And before you could even realize , her lips met yours, everything fell away. Her kiss hit like a memory you hadn’t asked for, an ache you hadn’t wanted to feel. Her hands gripped your waist, but you pushed her away. You couldn’t, you didn't want to do that.

“Don’t do that, Ellie,” you whispered, breath shallow. The kiss tasted like regret, like fire, like the love that would have destroyed you all over again.

“Fuck,” she whispered, stepping back but not letting you go. “Come with me. We can start fresh. Just you and me, we’ll start over.” She pulled you close again, her voice thick with emotion, wanting to change everything. But it was too late for that.

“Ellie…” you whispered, pain thickening your voice, too raw to speak through. One tear slid down your cheek, though it wasn’t your crying this time. It was hers. “It’s too late now,” you murmured, feeling your forehead rest gently against hers. There was something so sweetly tragic about this final moment. The tears you were both holding back spilled over, falling from your face as they mixed together.

“I’m afraid this is goodbye,” you said softly, the words breaking your heart.

Ellie just stared at you, her gaze clouded with emotion. It was like she was waiting for a future that no longer belonged to either of you. She moved back slightly, but her lips still brushed against your wet cheek.

“I’ll be waiting,” she whispered softly, like a promise she couldn’t make but still couldn’t take back.

As if you’d turn around and walk out with her.

“I’m not saying goodbye this time,” she added. She wiped another tear from your cheek, her eyes desperate.

But before you could respond, she was gone.

•• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •

It had been months, yet there was no sign of Vi. Every day since your last conversation with her, you had made your way to her apartment door. You knocked until your knuckles were sore, called her name until your voice broke, but the silence on the other side never changed. The truth didn’t hit you all at once. It came in waves, slow and cruel, when one day, a stranger opened that door instead. You stood frozen, staring at this new neighbor as they cheerfully introduced themselves, completely unaware of the storm inside you. Vi was gone. She’d moved out without a word. The world seemed to shift beneath your feet as you left, muttering something polite to the stranger while the realization pressed heavily on your chest. She wasn’t coming back. But that didn’t stop you—not entirely. Desperation kept you chasing shadows. Anytime you saw someone who looked like they might have known her, you found yourself asking, clinging to the faintest chance that someone had seen her.

“Vi?” you’d ask, voice breaking more with each time.

The answers were always the same. No. No one had seen her. It was as though she’d vanished completely, leaving nothing but the ghost of her behind. And even as months stretched on, she lingered in everything—her scent, her voice, her touch, all burned into your soul. There wasn’t a moment of any day when she didn’t consume you. When you weren’t aching for her. The longing was unbearable, gnawing at the edges of your sanity. You couldn’t escape her, no matter how much it hurt to think about what you’d lost. How you had ruined everything. You were still angry—angry at the world, at her, but mostly at yourself. How could you have let her in only to destroy what you had? It replayed in your mind like a cruel film reel—the look on her face, the way she broke apart. You hurt her so deeply, so fully, that she had to disappear to get away from it. The weight of it crushed you more with each passing day. You had done the exact same thing Ellie did to you. You left her no choice but to run. You couldn’t stop the spiraling questions that followed you everywhere. What if she went to find Jinx? What if something happened to her along the way? What if she was hurt, lost, somewhere she couldn’t make her way back from? And then, more hauntingly—what if she went to Piltover? What if she’s with Caitlyn now? What if she’s found peace, and you’re just a memory she’s glad to forget? Those thoughts made your chest tighten like a vice, but none of the answers—no scenarios you dreamed up—could ever fill the void she’d left. That emptiness was too vast, too overwhelming. It swallowed you whole, threatening to consume every part of you that wasn’t already drowning in guilt and longing. She has become your safety, your chaos. You tried to lose yourself in work, in sleepless nights, in meaningless tasks, but none of it mattered. Every thought came back to Vi. Every single one. And in her absence, the world felt quieter and crueler than ever before. Not even the memory of Ellie could distract you now. She was nothing more than a flicker in the background of your mind. Your brother, once the source of so much confusion and hope, faded into insignificance. Everything else paled when compared to her.

It all came back to Vi.

Always her.

And without her, you didn’t know how to keep going.

“You can’t interrogate every customer that walks in here, you know that, right?” Revek’s worried voice snapped you back to reality. His tone wasn’t scolding, just heavy with concern, like a parent watching their child teeter on a ledge.

“Huh?” you mumbled, forcing yourself out of your daze as you caught him leaning against the bar, arms crossed, his gaze sharp.

“I’m serious, kid,” he repeated. “You can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?” you asked, trying to sound indifferent as you busied yourself pouring a drink for the latest customer.

Revek wasn’t buying it. “You know exactly what I mean,” he pressed, his voice softer now. “You keep asking about her. Every damn day.” He paused, watching your face carefully, as if waiting for you to argue. When you didn’t, he leaned closer. “I know you want to find her. But it’s starting to feel like she doesn’t want to be found. Not by you, anyway.” His words cut deeper than you’d expected, like salt in an open wound. You froze, the glass you’d been holding forgotten in your hand.

“You have to accept that, kid,” he continued, his voice gentle but firm. “It’s not good for you to keep doing this. You’re tearing yourself apart.”

You set the glass down a little harder than you meant to, avoiding his gaze.

“Easier said than done, Rev,” you muttered under your breath.

“You managed to move on last time,” he added carefully, though the words felt like a slap to your face.

Your head snapped up, glaring at him with a flash of anger. His face didn’t flinch. He wasn’t trying to hurt you; he was just being honest. You sighed, your expression softening. Revek didn’t deserve your frustration—he was one of the few people who actually cared.

“I won’t ask anyone about Vi,” you mumbled finally, though the bitterness in your voice was obvious. “At least not anyone here.”

Revek gave a quiet chuckle, patting your shoulder as he straightened up.

“You’re the most stubborn person I’ve ever met, kid. Stubborn and reckless.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you grumbled, waving him off as he walked toward the back door.

Your shift ended quicker than you expected. For weeks you’d begged to take on extra hours—to open and close the bar—just to keep yourself busy, keep your mind too occupied to spiral. As the last of the patrons left, you cleaned up in silence, stacking glasses, wiping down counters, anything to avoid being alone with your thoughts. When everything was spotless, you slipped on your jacket, keys jingling in your hand as you locked the doors behind you. The cold hit you immediately, biting at your face and seeping through your clothes. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you tucked the keys into your pocket and started walking toward your apartment. Zaun was eerily quiet tonight. Too quiet. Usually, the air hummed with distant shouts, the rumble of machines, or drunken laughter in the distance. But not now. The stillness prickled at your nerves. The farther you walked, the heavier the silence became, your boots echoing softly against the damp pavement. You glanced over your shoulder, certain for the third time that you weren’t alone. The streets were nearly empty, but unease wrapped itself around you, squeezing your chest.

“Get a grip,” you muttered, shaking your head.

But as you reached a darker stretch of road, the feeling grew worse. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a shadow move. Your stomach clenched. The shadow wasn’t yours. You quickened your pace, ears straining for the sound of footsteps behind you. Your breathing was faster now, your heart hammering. Something wasn’t right.

Then it happened.

A dark figure darted out from a nearby alley, and before you could react, a heavy force slammed into you from behind. You stumbled forward, gasping, your vision spinning. Something hard struck the back of your head, and the world lurched violently before slipping into darkness.The last thing you remembered was the cold pavement against your cheek and the faint, muffled sound of footsteps retreating into the night.

A sharp, pulsing headache pulled you out of unconsciousness. Your entire body felt heavy, and your head throbbed like a drum. Everything seemed hazy, like the moments before waking from a nightmare. For a split second, you didn’t remember how you got here. But then the taste of blood in your mouth brought clarity crashing down—cold pavement, a shadow, the sharp blow to your head.Panic surged as you opened your eyes, only to see nothing but suffocating darkness. Something was covering your head. You tried moving, but your wrists were bound tight behind your back, the coarse ropes digging into your skin. Wiggling, twisting—you struggled with everything in you, but it was no use. Your breathing grew rapid, panic clawing at your chest, when a voice cut through the silence like a blade.

“Look who decided to finally wake up,” a familiar, raspy voice teased from somewhere near you. Her tone was laced with mockery and amusement. “My dearest best friend,” she added with a dark chuckle, like it was all some joke.

Your blood ran cold. You didn’t need to see her to know. The venom in her voice was enough to tell you exactly who it was. Faye. No. Jinx. Powder. The fabric covering your head was ripped off, and light stung your eyes. You blinked rapidly, adjusting as her figure came into focus. She stood before you, cocky as ever, her pink eyes shimmering with mischief and something darker beneath. Danger radiated from her every move.

“YOU.” Your voice was dripping with anger. You glared up at her, your head pounding harder with every heartbeat. “Are you insane?”

Jinx tilted her head, unbothered by your outrage, and shrugged casually. “I’m not insane,” she said, her voice light and matter-of-fact, as though kidnapping you was the most rational thing in the world. “I’m just a bit… frustrated.” Her grin spread wide as she stepped closer, towering over you, every movement of hers a deliberate provocation.

“And this is how you deal with frustration?” you spat, wriggling in your restraints again. “By kidnapping me? Seriously?”

“Sheesh, calm down,” she giggled, rolling her eyes like you were the one being unreasonable. “Nobody’s kidnapping you, look around, you're in your apartment .”

“Oh, really?” You scoffed. “So tying me up and dragging me to… what are you doing Faye?”

Her grin faded into something colder. Her expression shifted, her anger bubbling to the surface as she leaned in closer.

“I could ask you the same thing,” she snapped. Her pink eyes burned into yours. Her jaw tensed, and she leaned closer

“ don’t play stupid with me. You knew she was my sister, and yet—” She stopped herself, the words strangled in her throat, then straightened up.

“No, you know what? Call me by my real name. The one you pretended not to know until it suited you.” She knew. Of course, she knew. Vi must’ve found her—and now Jinx was here, to confront you, to rip you apart for betraying her.

“Listen, Faye—” you began.

“Jinx!” she snarled, her voice sharper now, her pink eyes flashing.

You hesitated, swallowing the bitter taste in your mouth. “…Powder.”

The name hit her like a slap. You saw the flash of vulnerability in her eyes before rage swept it away again. She scowled.

“It’s Jinx!” she barked, stepping even closer, her hands clenched into fists.

“I’m sorry for what happened. Truly, I am,” you said quickly, your voice trembling, but genuine. You didn’t look away from her burning gaze. “I never wanted to hurt you—never even imagined I’d be in this position. But I didn’t know she was your sister. I didn’t know what to do. I had to tell her.”

Her steps faltered for a moment. She wasn’t saying anything, but you could feel her weighing your words. You kept going, even though your voice was shaking.

“I couldn’t keep that from her. How could I? Knowing how much she cared about you… knowing how long she believed you were dead. I couldn’t just sit there and lie to her.” A tear rolled down your cheek, unbidden.

“It wasn’t fair to her. It wasn’t fair to anyone.”

She stared at you with an unreadable expression as she paced slowly, her eyes darting back and forth like she was reliving old memories. She was a storm barely held together—a mixture of pain, rage, and something else. The silence felt like it stretched on forever.

“You promised me,” she said finally, breaking the quiet, her voice cracking under the weight of her anger and hurt.

“I know,” you said softly. “I did, and I broke that promise. I’m sorry. But I hope you can understand. Just like I understood when you tracked down my brother and told me the truth…”

“That’s different!” she yelled suddenly, spinning on you, her movements quick and frantic. She was all fire now, heat pouring off her in waves.

“Is it?” you challenged quietly. “Untie me. We should talk about this. No more yelling. No more games.”

She crouched down in front of you, her pink eyes meeting yours as if searching for something—truth, maybe, or some kind of betrayal hidden in the depths of your expression. Her gaze lingered on the wet trail your tears had left down your cheek.

“You love her,” she murmured, the statement cutting through the tension like a dagger. Her voice was quiet, almost bitter, and her fingers flexed at her sides.

“You’re… in love with my sister.”

The tension in the air was thick as you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. You needed to calm Jinx down somehow, but the way her eyes were narrowing and her jaw was set told you this wasn’t going to be easy. And honestly? You didn’t blame her for being angry—she had every right to be.

“Listen,” you started cautiously, voice soft yet firm, “Jinx… I know it wasn’t my place to tell Vi about you. You don’t know how many sleepless nights I spent trying to talk myself out of it, trying to just stay away from all of this… from her. But I couldn’t. I didn’t have a choice.”

“You had no right to tell her!” Jinx snapped, her voice a mix of fury and something else—hurt.

“I know, and I’m sorry!” you murmured, your shoulders sagging as guilt wrapped around you like chains. “I swear, I didn’t want it to happen like that. But I had no other option.”

Jinx glared at you before she started pacing the small apartment, her movements quick and jerky. Her eyes flitted across the room, taking in everything with that restless energy she always carried.

“This apartment screams you, you know that?” she grumbled, her tone dripping with judgment as her gaze landed on your record player and the knickknacks scattered on the shelves. “All those stupid decorations. These records—do people even listen to records anymore?”

“Thanks?” you muttered dryly.

She waved you off like she hadn’t even heard you, though the corner of her lip twitched.

“So, what’s the deal now? You’ve clearly lost your mind over my sister. You two together or something? Is it all dramatic stares and tragic poetry?”

You blinked, her sudden shift catching you off guard. But something wasn’t adding up. If Vi had told Jinx where you lived, surely, she would’ve also mentioned that the two of you hadn’t seen each other in months. Unless…

“What are you talking about?” you asked, narrowing your eyes. “Vi and I haven’t seen each other in months. Wait… she didn’t tell you that?”

Jinx stopped pacing, spinning on her heel to face you, her lips curling into a sharp, mocking laugh. “Tell me what? I haven’t seen Vi in years, genius. Remember? She thought I was dead the entire time.”

Your stomach dropped as the realization hit you. “Wait. If you haven’t seen her, then who told you about me and Vi?” Your voice came out quieter than you expected, almost like you didn’t want the answer.

Jinx grinned, her eyes lighting up with a chaotic glee that made you instantly suspicious.

“Your grumpy ex told me, duh,” she said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Ellie’s kind of my favorite now. Oh, and you clearly have a type.”

You stayed silent, not because you didn’t have anything to say, but because the weight of what Ellie had done for you was settling in your chest, heavy and unshakable. You understood now why she’d told Jinx about you and Vi, why she’d stirred a pot that wasn’t hers to touch. Ellie had always had this knack for doing what she thought was best for you, even if it meant tearing herself apart in the process. This wasn’t any different. Ellie loved you—she always had. It wasn’t the loud kind of love, the kind that demanded attention or screamed to be heard. It was quieter, deeper, a part of her she kept tucked away like an old scar. You knew it must’ve hurt her, the kind of pain that lingered and clawed at her, but she still ripped the bandage off for you. She didn’t want you stuck in limbo, hanging on to unresolved feelings or an unfinished story. No, Ellie had always been the one who pushed you toward the truth, no matter how ugly or painful it might be.She didn’t tell Jinx out of spite or jealousy. That wasn’t Ellie’s style. She’d done it for you. She wanted Jinx to understand who you were to Vi, to push Jinx into making peace with her sister so that you—both of you—could finally move forward. Ellie knew she couldn’t be the one to make you happy anymore, but that didn’t mean she didn’t want you to be happy. Maybe that was her way of letting go, or maybe it was her way of saying she still cared, even if you couldn’t love her back the same way. Either way, it was one last act of love—a selfless, bittersweet gesture that left her holding onto nothing but her own heartbreak. Jinx, oblivious to the growing storm of thoughts in your head, raised an eyebrow at your silence.

“What? Nothing to say? Bet you’re wondering if Ellie’s still into you.”

You didn’t respond, knowing she was trying to bait you.

Jinx grinned wider. “Honestly, if my sister doesn’t get her act together and show up, maybe you should go back to plan A. Ellie’s clearly still head over heels, right? Wait… did something happen between you two when she came back?”

“What? No!” you exclaimed, louder than intended. “Nothing happened!”

Jinx squinted, clearly unconvinced. “You’re sure? Because your face is saying otherwise.”

“Look, she appeared out of nowhere, okay? She dropped some bombshells about my brother—who you apparently found, by the way—and then kissed me. That’s it.”

“Ohhhh, I knew something would’ve happened!” Jinx shouted gleefully. “Was it dramatic? Did she sweep you off your feet or—”

“Nothing happened,” you cut in firmly. “I pushed her away, for the record. But yeah, the damage was already done.”

Jinx folded her arms and gave you a slow once-over, a smirk tugging at her lips. “What’s up with you falling for every emotionally unavailable—”

“Shut up.” You shot her a glare. “And untie me, seriously. This isn’t funny anymore. We have a lot to talk about… starting with my brother.” Your tone shifted, growing heavier, the humor replaced with determination. You weren’t going to let her dodge this conversation. Not this time.

" we will talk " she stood up , heading towards you "but not yet " before you could gather what was going on, she hit your head . Once again. And before you knew , you were unconscious.

Your head throbbed as the loud banging on your apartment door dragged you out of the black void. You opened your eyes, struggling to focus on your surroundings. The room was dark, faint streaks of light from outside barely illuminating the scattered chaos of the apartment. You blinked, trying to gather your thoughts, but the pounding in your head was overwhelming. You shifted slightly, groaning as a sharp pain shot through your skull. At least you weren’t tied up anymore. The banging on the door didn’t stop. Each hit felt like a hammer to your already throbbing head. You tried to speak, to call out, but your voice didn’t come. Instead, you groaned again, rolling onto your back and clutching at the pain radiating from your temple. The noise stopped abruptly, and silence settled, except for your shallow breathing. Relief washed over you, but it was short-lived. A deafening crash suddenly shattered the silence.

The door. Someone broke in.

"Shit,” a voice cursed, panicked and familiar. You tried to turn your head toward the sound, but you couldn’t make out much beyond a tall silhouette moving quickly in your direction.

“Fuck,” they muttered again, and then they were kneeling beside you, their hands hesitating before reaching for you. “Hey, hey… are you okay? Talk to me.”

At first, you thought the voice was in your head, some cruel trick your brain was playing after everything Jinx had put you through. But then you felt her touch—warm, real, grounding. Your heart stuttered as recognition dawned. It wasn’t a hallucination. She was here.

“Vi?” you whispered, your voice barely audible, more breath than sound.

“Oh, thank god,” she exhaled, her relief palpable as she pulled you into her arms. “You’re alive. I thought…” Her voice cracked, and the raw emotion in her words made your throat tighten. Her touch, her voice, even the faint scent of her—it was all just as you remembered, painfully familiar and impossible to ignore. You sank into her embrace, your tears spilling before you could stop them.

“Vi.” Her name was shaky on your lips as you held her tighter, burying your face against her neck. Her warmth radiated through you, chasing away the fear that had settled in your chest.

“I’m here,” she whispered, her grip on you firm, as if she thought you might disappear if she let go. “I’m here.”

You pulled back slightly, just enough to see her face in the dim light.

“You’re really here,” you whispered, your tears blurring your vision as you brushed your fingers over her arm, just to reassure yourself she wasn’t a dream.

“I am.” Her eyes searched yours, full of something you couldn’t quite place—relief, fear, anger, all jumbled together.

“What happened?” she asked urgently. “Are you okay? I thought… I thought something happened to you. Someone told me you were in danger, and I just… I ran. I didn’t think, I—”

“Jinx,” you murmured, cutting her off. “She paid me a visit.” You managed a weak chuckle despite yourself.

Vi’s jaw tightened, her hands trembling slightly against you.

“I knew this was one of her games,” she spat. “She sent someone to tell me you were in danger. God, I thought… I thought you were…” She trailed off, her words caught in her throat.

“I’m okay,” you reassured her softly, brushing your fingers over her hand. “I’m okay. Just… help me sit up.”

Before you could finish, she scooped you into her arms like you weighed nothing, carrying you to the couch. Her strength was effortless, her touch so gentle it nearly broke you. She switched on the lamp, and for the first time, you saw her fully. Her mesmerizing blue eyes, glowing with an intensity that felt like it could pull you under. Her tattoos, stark against her skin. Her pink hair, vibrant and wild. She looked… perfect. Breathtaking. Just as you remembered, if not better.

“You’re bleeding,” she said softly, her fingers

grazing the wound on your temple. You winced but tried to wave it off when you saw the panic flare in her eyes.

“Seriously, I’m fine, Vi,” you assured her, offering a small smile. “Your sister, though? Completely insane.”

Vi exhaled sharply, nodding. “Yeah, tell me about it. This isn’t even the first time she’s kidnapped someone I…” Her words faltered, her face suddenly pale as she realized what she was about to say.

Someone I love. The words hung between you like a spark, threatening to ignite everything. You stared at her, your heart pounding in your chest as the realization hit. It was always there, always simmering beneath the surface, but hearing it—almost hearing it—made everything click into place. Every sleepless night, every time you’d thought about her, craved her, longed for her, it all made sense.

“Where is she now?” Vi asked quickly, clearly trying to recover, but you weren’t letting this moment slip away.

“I have no idea,” you mumbled, but you weren’t even thinking about Jinx anymore. Your entire focus was on Vi—her eyes locked on yours, the vulnerability written across her face. She was intimidating, raw, beautiful, and you couldn’t stand it anymore. You didn’t even realize you’d moved until your lips met hers. The kiss was sudden, rough and desperate, like both of you were trying to fill the void the other had left. It was messy, teeth clashing, lips bruising. But as the seconds stretched into eternity, the kiss softened, your desperation bleeding into something tender, something raw. Her hands trembled slightly as they cradled your face, pulling you closer as if she were terrified you’d slip away. The taste of her lips, the feel of her warmth, sent waves of longing surging through you, but what lingered most was the overwhelming relief. Vi was here. She was real. You pulled back just slightly, your breaths mingling, foreheads pressed together.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered between kisses, your voice breaking as you rested your forehead against hers. Tears rolled down your cheeks again, but this time they were tears of release, of relief. “For everything. For hiding the truth about Jinx, for hurting you.”

Her breath mingled with yours as she smiled softly, her own tears catching the faint light. “I know,” she whispered, her voice full of emotion. She brushed her nose against yours, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips again. “I’m sorry too. For leaving. For being gone.”

Her honesty made your chest ache. “I didn’t think I deserved you,” you admitted quietly.

Vi brushed her fingers over your cheek, her eyes soft but filled with determination.

“At first, I was so angry,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “Angry at Jinx for making me think she was dead, and angry at you for keeping it from me. I didn’t know how to deal with it, so I did the only thing I’m good at—I ran. But the longer I was gone, the more I realized…” She paused, her thumb brushing away a stray tear on your cheek.

“I thought I was going to lose you. And I realized I couldn’t survive that. Not again. Not when… not when I love you.”

Her voice cracked on those last words, raw and vulnerable, as though saying them aloud made her break. She buried her face in your neck, pulling you close like she needed to fuse herself to you, like you were the only thing keeping her together.

“Vi…” Your voice trembled as you pulled her closer, your hands gripping onto her desperately, like letting go of her would mean losing the ground beneath you.

“I love you too,” you whispered, your lips grazing her ear as you spoke. You choked on your next words, your chest heavy with the weight of every emotion you’d held back for so long. “I tried to push it away, to pretend I didn’t need you, but I do. I need you, more than anything, more than anyone.”

She pulled back just enough to look at you, her blue eyes glistening with tears but filled with something fierce—relief, adoration, devotion. She exhaled shakily, her lips tugging into a small, fragile smile. “Say it again,” she whispered.

You cupped her face with both hands, brushing the tears from her cheeks as more fell from your own.

“I love you, Vi.” The words came out stronger this time, filled with every ounce of your heart.

Her breath hitched as she surged forward, kissing you with everything she had. Her lips were salty from tears, but they were soft and full of promise, of every unspoken word between you. Her hands tangled in your hair, holding you like you were her lifeline, like she couldn’t bear to let you go.

" get a room you two " sharp, familiar voice suddenly cut through the charged atmosphere between you and Vi. Both of you froze, the moment shattered like glass. Vi’s brow furrowed as she snapped her head toward the voice, her body instinctively shielding you.

" My plan has worked, once again" Vi’s jaw clenched as realization dawned, and you could feel the ripple of tension through her frame. Slowly, she turned to face the figure behind her—someone she had believed, for so long, was lost to her forever.

" Hey sis " Jinx mumbled, her voice unexpectedly soft, though her eyes betrayed a storm of emotions.

•• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• ••

Yet another chaotic, lively night filled the bar. The room buzzed with energy—laughter spilling over from clusters of friends, glasses clinking together, and the thrum of low music weaving warmth through the air. Tables were packed, couples leaned close over shared secrets, and the familiar smell of cheap liquor and Zaun’s ever-present grit grounded you in this moment. It was chaos, but it was your chaos. You thrived in it, finding bits of yourself among the people who called this part of Zaun home.

“Can you believe this guy just lost ten packs of cigarettes to me in one sitting?” Revek’s voice rumbled as he sauntered up to the bar, slapping a satisfied hand against the counter.

You rolled your eyes with a laugh, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. “Amazing. Your lungs are gonna thank you for that one,” you teased, smirking as you leaned forward to fix a wobbly glass.

“Don’t act all high and mighty,” he retorted with a deep laugh. “I’ve seen you steal a cigarette or two when you thought I wasn’t paying attention, you little liar.”

“Shut up, old man,” you hissed back, though a smile cracked your feigned irritation. Revek always had a way of making you laugh, no matter how exhausting the day had been.

He smirked and winked. “Speaking of cigarettes, I’m overdue for one now.” He pointed toward the back door, already reaching for his pocket. “Hold the fort, will ya?”

“I always do,” you replied, shooing him away playfully.

Tonight was busy—louder than most nights—but instead of draining you, it energized you. The hum of life in this place reminded you why you stayed, why you found comfort within Zaun’s controlled chaos. Even when things went wrong, this bar had become a haven, a tether to stability in a world that often didn’t make sense. The doors swung open suddenly, the motion catching your eye. Instantly, the corners of your mouth tugged into a smile. A familiar figure strode through the threshold, confidence in every step, her electric pink hair unmistakable. Vi.

She saw you almost immediately and grinned, shaking her head slightly as she approached. Her stride quickened as she crossed the room, her intense gaze locking onto yours with that unmistakable spark of mischief.

“Hey there, stranger,” she said smoothly, a teasing lilt in her voice as she leaned against the counter, her elbows resting casually on the worn wood. Her smirk was downright dangerous as she bit her lip, her eyes sparkling. “Care to make me a drink?”

You chuckled softly, pretending to be unimpressed.

“We were supposed to meet at home later, you know.” You tilted your head knowingly as you reached for a glass, already preparing her favorite drink.

She shrugged, her grin widening as she leaned closer. “What can I say? I couldn’t wait to see you,” she murmured, her voice low and dripping with honesty.

Heat bloomed in your chest, your heart fluttering as her presence overwhelmed your senses. Without thinking, you leaned forward, her face so close to yours that your noses nearly touched. Your lips met in a kiss—soft and slow at first, but as her smile curled into it, she tried to deepen it. But the sound of a sharp, exaggerated cough from the doorway cut through the intimate moment.

“Thirty minutes!” Revek called out loudly, his rough voice breaking the spell. He stood by the doorway with a cigarette dangling between his fingers, smoke curling lazily into the air. “Shift ends in thirty minutes, lovebirds. Surely you two can wait till then.”

You pulled back reluctantly, laughing under your breath as Vi groaned dramatically.

“Sorry, Rev,” she replied with an unapologetic smirk. Her tone was playful, but her hand still lingered on the counter near yours.

Revek chuckled, shaking his head as he blew out another puff of smoke. “Vi, you’re gonna be the reason I have to fire my best employee,” he joked, but his tone betrayed the affection he felt for you both.

Turning back to Vi, you couldn’t help the way your chest swelled at the sight of her. The teasing curve of her lips, the confident edge in her stance, and those intense blue eyes—they held your heart hostage every time. You couldn’t look at her without falling deeper.

“I’ll be waiting outside, stranger,” she murmured, her voice just loud enough to reach your ears. The warmth in her tone felt like an echo that would linger long after she left. She leaned in once more, brushing her fingers lightly against your hand—a touch so fleeting but electric—and then disappeared back into the night. Her words left you breathless, stirring something deep within your chest as you finished the shift with your mind elsewhere. Vi always had a way of making you forget the rest of the world—of anchoring you to her, no matter what storms tried to pull you apart. She’d wait for you, and you’d always follow her.

Author's note: I truly cannot believe that this story is done . It was my first time ever writing something and Echoes became even more important to me since creating this story made me fall in love with writing . I want to thank everyone who even once liked, shared, commented on my story, you guys were the ones who motivated me into finishing it .

As for the last chapter, it took a long time to write it. I wanted to make everything perfect, give each character a deserved (or not so) ending. Please let me know thoughts about it, don't hesitate to message me, to comment, chatting with you guys truly makes my day!

P.S. I will most definitely continue writing more stories, I can't wait to share more with you.

Thank you!