#and i had to text the president i couldn’t go

[dearreader]

i need to stop remembering sorority stuff. need to erase my mind fr

[xoxolaw]

+ HOW TO WIN A HEART

in which her friends challenged her to make the scariest guy in school fall in love with her — and she said, “easy.”

GEUM SEONG-JE X READER

CH 1 , CH 2 , CH 3

RULE 1 - MAKE THE FIRST MOVE

Y/N wasn’t just popular.

She was the kind of girl who made popularity look effortless. She wasn’t top of the class or president of any club. She didn’t need to be.

Y/N had that intangible something—a charisma that couldn’t be taught, only envied. Her walk was lazy but commanding, every hallway her runway.

A resting smirk hinted at mischief, bold eyes daring you to keep looking—and most did.

Boys sat up straighter when she passed. Girls checked their hair, tugged their skirts, though the uniforms were identical.

Teachers? They’d learned it was easier to look the other way. She was too clever to get caught, too charming to scold.She texted in lectures without blinking.

Her Instagram stories were mini-dramas, high-stakes, with dangerously good lighting.

She knew everyone worth knowing—and everyone knew her.

Chaos wrapped in lip gloss.

The kind of girl who’d ruin your life and have you thanking her for it.

The It Girl of Kanghak High.

---

“Y/N-sunbae!” A junior half-jogged up, voice cracking with nerves and too much hope.

She didn’t look up from her banana milk. “Don’t say it.”“Say what?”“That you like me. That I’m different. That you’d treat me right.”

He froze, a deer in headlights. “Wait—how did you…”

She glanced up. Eyes sharp, bored, amused. Then, with the warmth of a mercy kill, she patted his shoulder.“You’re sweet,” she said. “Just not my type.”

Her friends dissolved into giggles behind her.“That’s five this month,” Bora muttered, flipping a page in her imaginary stat book.

��At this point, we should charge entry fees,” Jina snorted. Y/N stretched, feline and unbothered. “Honestly, where’s the challenge? You smile once, and they’re planning the wedding.”

“It’s the way you flirt,” Bora said. “That whole ‘I’ll ruin your life and look good doing it’ vibe.”

Y/N winked. “They should know I bite.”

They laughed, lounging in the lazy hour after the final bell on a Friday. Sunlight slanted through the windows, the halls half-empty but buzzing with leftover energy.

Y/N leaned against the wall, banana milk finished, head tilted back, soaking in the golden calm. Bora leaned in. “Oh, right! Someone left something in your desk.”

Y/N groaned. “If it’s another scented letter, I’m filing for harassment.”

“No, really. Pink envelope. The guy looked nervous.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Boys need better immunity. This is tragic.”

Bora grinned. “If you’re so unimpressed, how about a real challenge?”

Y/N perked up. “Go on.”

“Make the next guy who walks around that corner fall for you.”

Jina cackled. “Bora, you’re a menace.”

“Easy,” Y/N said without missing a beat.

But Bora’s smirk vanished.“Wait—no. Never mind—”

Too late. Y/N turned, lips parted in slow curiosity. And there he was.

Geum Seong-je.

The air shifted sideways. Tousled dark hair. Sharp jaw. Expression unreadable—a mix of lazy boredom and quiet threat. One hand in his blazer pocket, the other swinging carelessly.

Two minions trailed him like shadows. The hallway parted like waves, students stepping back by instinct. He didn’t walk. He prowled.

His gaze landed on Y/N, and something flickered—amusement, maybe, or the thrill of something unpredictable.

Bora’s voice cracked in panic. “Y/N—no. Pick someone else. That guy’s not normal—”

But Y/N was already striding forward.Every student in the hall went silent.

Click. Click. Click.

Her heels tapped the tile like punctuation in a rising melody.

She cut across the corridor, ignoring the stares, the whispers, the secondhand fear. She didn’t break pace.

And Seong-je didn’t move. Their eyes locked. A suspended breath—challenge, curiosity, chaos. She stopped inches from him.

Grabbed his collar.

And kissed him.

Not shy.

Not sweet.

A kiss with purpose—bold, deliberate, a spark to ignite a fire. Gasps rippled through the hall. A water bottle hit the floor. Her lips pressed deeper for a heartbeat, her grip tight on his blazer. His scent was sharp and trouble.

She pulled back — just a little breathless — and locked eyes with him.

“You’re cute,” she whispered.

Then turned like nothing happened.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

how's the setting?? 😋😋 This is going to be fun trust me hehehe

[rafesangelita]

hii!! congrats on your 5k followers, I'm glad glad. 💖💖

cann I haveeeeee 🍩?? (frat!rafe with daddy kink??) 🙈🙈 i wish you the best!!

warnings: shy!reader, kinda mean!rafe, daddy kink, brief mention of phone sex/sexting, unprotected sex, semi public sex (at a party), slight choking, slight praise, dirty talk, creampie, hint of impregnation kink at the end

“come on, baby, call me what you called me in those text messages.” rafe teased you, his cock prodding at your entrance. if someone told you that sexting with a frat president would land you in his bed with his friends right outside the door, you wouldn’t believe them. “i can’t..” you whimpered, your eyes heavy with tears as he wrapped a hand around your throat. “yes, you can.” rafe studied your face. you looked so pretty underneath him. “what, are you shy now? you weren’t so shy when you sent me pictures of those perfect tits.” he laughed.

your skin flushed at the memory. you had never provocatively pointed a camera at yourself, let alone posed and sent a photo, but rafe’s words and desperation to see you naked had made you crumble. “please! ‘just want you inside me..” you reached up, pressing a hand against his toned chest. “not until you say it.” he shook his head, squeezing the sides of your neck softly. swallowing thickly, you gazed up at him. “who’s your fuckin’ daddy?” your eyebrows knitted together as rafe leaned down, his lips ghosting over your own. “you are- oh!” you gasped when he thrusted into you without warning.

“i’m your what?” he feigned confusion, taking your thigh and wrapping it around his waist. he felt so good, your walls stretching deliciously around his length. “you’re my daddy!” you practically screamed when his thumb found your clit, his lips latching onto the sensitive spot on your neck. rafe couldn’t explain it, but hearing you call him that made something primal awake within him. suddenly he wanted to fuck you dumb, and make you a whining mess. “you’re so fucking perfect, holy shit.” he rolled his hips into yours, your back arching off of his bed at the pleasure.

the lewd sounds of your soaked cunt, paired with the heavy breathing from the man above you, did nothing to conceal the music coming from downstairs where a party was in full swing. you clung onto him the closer you got to your peak, your eyes fluttering shut as he whispered filthy obscenities in your ear. “acting like a shy girl, but really you just want to be fucked like the filthy slut you are, huh?” you cried out, his advances on your sensitive bundle of nerves sending you over the edge, your thighs trembling as you covered your mouth. rafe looked offended as you tried to keep yourself quiet.

“fuck that, let me hear you.” he took the palm you had pressed against your lips and pinned it to your side. rafe leaned down, trailing kisses down your jaw as you let out the pettiest noises he’s ever heard. you shook against him, burying your face in the crook of his neck while he spilled inside of you, his own high hitting him with an unforgivable force. he cursed against your skin, his fingers curling into the flesh of your hips while he eased his movements to a smooth stop. you were still teary eyed and going through the aftershocks of your orgasm when he pulled out, watching gloriously as his seed spilled out of you.

“i should do this to you every night.. ‘make you really give me that ‘daddy’ title.” he smiled wickedly, wrapping both of you in his sheets as he comforted you, stroking your cheek and running his fingers through your hair until you fell asleep in his arms.

[glitchfiles]

only 'til dawn. [ljn]

pairing ⋆ badboy!jeno x inexperienced/goodgirl!reader

wordcount ⋆ 2.7k+

warnings ⋆ SMUT MINORS DNI!!!, softdom!jeno, smoking, shotgunning, car sex, big dick jeno, corruption, praise, light degradation, oral (m receiving), cowgirl, spanking (once), light choking, creampie...

note ⋆ i had to leave this one in my drafts for some time first because i didn't want to upload two car sex fics in a row then i wanted to rewrite it then i couldn't be asked to do that fully... so yeah, enjoy :D

"fuck," jeno drawls out as his head lolls to the side, "you're shit at this." he chuckles at your feeble attempt to give him a blowjob.

you look up at him, he seems totally unphased by your attempts to get him off, even going as far as to fish a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of the inner pocket of his leather jacket. the scowl that forms on your brow shows how much it dents your pride; he smirks down at you tauntingly.

"open your mouth a little more." he places a cigarette between his lips and lights the end. "you don't mind if i smoke, right?" you roll your eyes, he could have asked before. at least he had the courtesy to wind the window down.

there was no reason for you to debase yourself like this, the whole situation is beyond demeaning. you’re on your knees in the back of jeno’s car, struggling to please him and now he’s having a smoke mid-head?!

it felt as if your jaw was about to unhinge at any moment, you didn’t know it could stretch this far. the girls in the videos made it look so easy, compared to them, the way you were slobbering all over his girth was far from sexy. not to mention how you were clumsily pumping the rest of his length. not to toot your own horn, but you picked things up easily, this was a whole different ballpark to academic work. 

"you're too big," you whine. your lack of experience definitely didn't have anything to do with the shoddy head you were giving. how he was still hard was a wonder, you’re sure he’s seconds away from going flaccid.

normally, he would have put an end to the whole thing. it's not like he wasn't one text away from a few girls that could suck the soul out of him. however, considering how unsavoury his reputation was, the fact that you, the university’s golden girl, and much-revered student union president, were so eager to please him behind closed doors inflated his ego more than anything else could.

he couldn’t help but find humour in how ardently you refused to acknowledge him in public at times like this; if you spotted him on campus you looked the other way. but the moment he shot you a text, you were swooning and giggling, begging to meet up. so, here you were, in the dead of night, at the back of an empty parking lot a couple of miles away from campus.

“you’re lucky you have a patient teacher, i’m going to turn you into an expert!” jeno directs you between drags of his cigarette, blowing the smoke out of the windows as he laughs at you being unable to get the hang of it. saying you feel frustrated would be an understatement.

"i don't want to do this anymore," you sit up, finally admitting defeat and letting his heavy cock flop down against his abdomen. if jeno were a better person, he would have stopped you a few minutes ago, but you were so eager to please him and he loved the adorable pout on your lips and how your brows furrowed whenever you were exasperated.

"then what do you want to do?" you can think of a few things, but they would be super embarrassing to say. so, you refused to answer. he sighs before slotting his cigarette between his lips, leaving his hands free to pull you onto his lap.

"wanna try?" you don't know what possesses you, but you nod. 

how bad can it be? 

he taps the burnt end off, letting the ashes fall out the window before setting the cigarette between your lips. it feels childish to admit, but the fact that you had shared an indirect kiss makes you smile. this doesn't last long, though; after a short pull, you end up choking.

"god, that's awful!" you squeak as he belly laughs, only stopping when you hit his chest. all he's done tonight is tease you.

"i thought so too when i first tried." he soothes you, so as to not incur any more of your light-handed wrath. "why don't we start with some baby steps?" 

you're unsure what he means until his large, rough hand is placed gently under your jaw and his thumb brushes over your lower lip, "open up for me, angel."

he takes a long drag before tilting his head to the side and filling your mouth with a thick cloud of smoke. you're not sure what this is, but it feels intimate. it feels as if he’s breathing life into you. your whole body warms and tingles, your head spins, and a fire lights in your core.

once his lungs are empty, he seals it with a kiss. it's slow and passionate. his hand slides round to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. maybe it’s the nicotine running through your veins, you feel lightheaded. you let him slip his tongue past your lips to dance around your own.

the sweet flavour of your strawberry lip balm he was used to intermingled with the bitterness of his cigarette. he can't help but groan at the fact you taste a lot more like him now. 

the cigarette he's momentarily forgotten in his hand gets flicked away to burn to a butt somewhere on the tarmac outside. his now free hand comes to rest on your hip. it guides your body forwards, bringing your clothed centre flush against his bare cock.

you mewl into his mouth, he swallows down the sound. he’s greedy for more and starts rocking against you. grinding out then gulping down your noises, they go straight down to his cock. it’s throbbing, you can feel how painfully hard he is underneath you. only when he’s met with an uncomfortable stickiness due to his precum seeping through his shirt does he put an end to his gluttony.

a begrudging whine fills the car as he pulls your lips away from him. the look in his eyes alone was almost enough to make you cream, it was different to the cocky, yet lewd, eye fucking that seemed to be his default. those dark eyes of his turned into endless pits of boundless desire.

warm hands glide under your sweater, tugging it over your head, off your body to let it land somewhere in the front of his car. he does the same with his own shirt, sitting back to let you admire the rippling muscles on his torso. you delicately placed a hand on his chest, sliding it down to his abdomen; it seems he doesn’t have to have his dick in your mouth to have you drooling over him.

“like what you see, baby?” the smug look on his face makes your stomach twist.

“shut up,” you smash your lips against his again before he can speak again. 

jeno rushes to unclasp your bra, pushing the fabric out of his way so he can knead at your breasts; not before long, his mouth leaves you to pepper kisses down your neck then it encloses around one of your pert nipples. 

“mmm, jeno!” you mewl as his tongue laps at the bud, causing your back to arch in search of more stimulation. a hand weaves itself into his inky, thick locks, pushing him to give attention to the other side. “jeno, more!”

“i love hearing you say my name,” he growls against your chest, “wanted to hear you say it all week, but you don’t even spare me a glance unless i have my cock out.” 

you ignore the slight bitterness in his tone focusing on how he nips at your skin, leaving dark marks he hopes will last until he next sees you. marks that he hopes others will see and know you belong to someone; you’ll probably chastise him later over text but he doesn’t care, anything to keep him on your mind like you're always on his. 

reluctantly, he detaches himself from your chest and sits back, eyeing the drying traces of saliva he left with a dazed smile. 

“what next? tell me.” his hands delicately caress your hips, your cheeks begin to heat up and you avoid his eye contact. “don’t act all coy now, where’s the girl that begged me to drive her out here and fuck her dumb?” 

you were still clinging onto the last dregs of your virtuous good girl persona - the last white spots on a canvas he had first found unsullied. your first sin had been naivety, too easily seduced by a good-looking face and the sweet nothings he whispered in your ears but he had been more than happy to lengthen the list.

you wondered if this was how you had always been - or was he corrupting you. he broke down every conception you had of yourself and no one outside of the car you both sat in would believe this was you - you barely did yourself. some would say he was ruining you, but he’d never make you do something you didn’t want to, this was all you.

“please…” you let your head fall onto the crook of his neck, voice barely above a whisper. “want you inside.”

“a smart girl like you can be more descriptive than that.” he strokes a finger down your back, leaving a trail of heat on your spine, in hopes of prompting lewder vocabulary. you take a moment to chew your bottom lip and swallow down the last bit of dignity you had.

“please, fuck me.” you weep against the shell of his ear, “fill my pussy up, i need you so bad, jeno.” 

“sound so pretty when you tell me what you want.” his low-toned praise makes you shiver as he flips your skirt up and raises your hips. he pushes your panties to the side to position his cock at your dripping entrance. taking a second to tease your slit, making sure to brush over your swollen clit, only to hold you still when your hips jerk forward.

“look at me, angel.” you perk up for him, “so beautiful,” he tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear. his gaze holds yours firmly as he brings you down on his bulbous tip, stretching you out slowly.

you struggle to keep your eyes from shutting. your mouth hangs open letting out hushed gasps as you sink down an inch at a time. he thinks you’re the prettiest creature he’s ever laid eyes on. 

“keep going... yeah, just like that... so good...” his soft gaze, light touch and encouraging words make things easier. he can feel your walls begin to relax and hungrily accept his girth. 

“‘s so fucking big,” you wail out, not even having taken him fully. you couldn’t quite yet without his help, though you’ll get there eventually - he’d make sure of that. 

“i know, baby, but you take me so well. can you move for me?” you nod shyly, lifting yourself and dropping back down as far as you can with a long whine. up and down, you split yourself open over and over. 

jeno’s hands press into your flesh, silently encouraging you to take more of him. you work your hips faster, earning a deep groan from him as his head falls back. instinctively, your mouth attaches itself to his neck, mimicking the way he had kissed and sucked at your own earlier.

“for such a sweet, innocent girl, you sure do ride like a slut.” he breathily laughs as his hand comes down on your ass with a sounding slap. “like the way my cock stretches this tight cunt out.” there’s no hiding the way your walls clench at the sharp sting. you try to find refuge from your embarrassment by hiding your face in his shoulder, but he quickly takes ahold of your throat, forcing you to sit up straight.

“don’t hide from me,” he tells you warningly and squeezes your neck lightly. once again your eyes lock, his stare as intense as ever. your teeth sink into your bottom lip and you rest your hands on his strong chest, adopting a faster pace. 

he lets out moans which you naturally reciprocate, however, you embellish yours with his name; you feel his cock twitch at the sound of it. the look in his eyes turns wild as his fingers dig deeper into the meat of your ass, forming a nearly bruising grip; with the other hand, he’s careful not to cut off airflow but forms a hold that leaves you feeling dizzy. 

“you know exactly what you do to me.” he chuckles, “you were fucking made for me, made for taking my cock, weren’t you? yeah, so perfect, angel.”

your legs begin to shake, his words and his cock are quickly pushing you towards the pinnacle. you try your very best to work through the overwhelming pleasure and the ache in your thighs, wanting to get him off since you failed at sucking his dick. but you can't seem to power through it, tears well in your eyes as everything becomes too overwhelming, it's far too much.

“need help, baby?” his soft spot for you wins, “did such a good job for me. i’ll take care of you, make you cum all over my cock. want that?”

“please, need to cum so bad.” his hand leaves your neck and places itself and your other asscheek. he plants his feet firmly and then rams up into you.

your brain goes blank in an instant. 

he’s deep. so deep. too deep!

you cry out, nails digging into his broad, muscular shoulders to anchor yourself. the tears that had threatened to leave your eyes before stream down your face, staining your cheeks. your whole body quivers as his cock lays kisses on your cervix with each thrust. 

“jeno, oh my god, right there!” you practically scream. his face screws at the feeling of your walls constricting, getting tighter by the second and making it harder to move; he powers through by jackhammering into you with more force. 

it feels like you could break at any moment, he's bouncing you on his cock like you're a ragdoll and you're too weak to do anything but take and enjoy it. all it takes is a few more thrusts before you’re creaming all over him. your body seizes as your eyes roll back, and his name tumbles from your lips incessantly in pleasured sobs. 

it’s hard to keep you in one place as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, but he handles your squirming body with ease using his strength. the most ungodly wet squelches fill the car as he races towards his own release, your sticky mess clings to both of your thighs. 

“shit… pussy’s sucking me in so deep, gonna cum.” his chest rises and falls dramatically, he can barely breathe. his thrusts get choppier as he loses himself to the feral urge to paint your insides pearly white.

a heavy groan rips through him as his balls tighten, he nestles his cock nice and deep as he pours hot spurts of cum into you. he fills you with warmth; you feel complete for a moment. unfortunately, all good things must come to an end eventually. 

you could almost start crying again when he pulls you off of him. his praise on how well you took his cum as it dribbles out of your cunt makes up for it, though. his tongue swipes across his lips as he watches it drip all over his cock, unbothered by the fact half of it is soiling his leather car seats too. 

the sound of your wild breathing is all that fills the car for a moment until his lips find yours one last time. breathlessly kissing you, there is less vigour than before but just as much passion. your heart warms for a moment at the almost bashful smile on his face as he rests his forehead against yours and wipes the tears that still cling to your soft skin.

this feels right, perfect even, but it only takes a few words for him to fuck it all up.

“wanna come over to mine?” jeno regrets his words immediately, the expression on your face sour at the thought of someone spotting you walking into his dorm or one of his loud-mouthed roommates blabbering about you spending the night together.

give jeno a hand and he’ll end up taking the whole arm.

you pull away from him suddenly remembering who you are.

“don’t be ridiculous, you know i can’t even be caught dead with you.” you grimace at the mess between your legs as you reposition your panties; then, you search for the clothing he had strewn around the car.

you don’t even look at him when you demand him to. “just drop me off where you usually do.”

jeno grins even at your cold-hearted rejection. not just anyone could say they had a place between your legs; he’s sure he’ll have a place in your heart too soon enough…

★ thanks for reading! my inbox is open for feedback and requests! :3

© glitchfiles

[bellaxgiornata]

Falling Apart & Torn at the Seams [3/5]

Pairing: Jax Teller x fem!Reader Word Count: 3k [Series Masterlist][Jax Fic Masterlist]

warnings/tags: 18+; pregnant!Reader, angst with an eventual happy/hopeful ending, emotional hurt, threat to abort (because it's Clay), angry Jax, Clay being Clay

a/n: Y'all are loving the drama in this fic and I appreciate the interaction on it SO MUCH! So thank you! I hope you enjoy the angsty part three! It's entirely possible we could end up with a total of five parts for this, it just depends on how long part four turns out to be once it's written (since each of these keeps getting longer than the previous). Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

tag list: @kmc1989 @hiddenwritings-adventures @shadyshadyy @cwallace02sblog

Almost four full days had passed since that argument at your apartment. Four days of you not answering your phone no matter how many times Jax had tried to call or text you. He already figured he’d pissed you off after how he’d gone off on you the other day, and he assumed that’s why you were ignoring him. But Jax couldn’t shake the feeling that something about this felt wrong. You’d never given him the silent treatment before. 

This wasn’t like you. 

Jax damn well knew he owed you an apology for the other night. You hadn’t deserved the way he’d shown up and torn into you like that. He’d just been so fucking exhausted and stressed after dealing with Alvarez out in Oakland. Jax had been walking a thin line trying to appease the Mayan president all goddamn day after he’d gotten word about the new Sons’ deal with the Niners, and it had completely fried his patience. But it was a bullshit task Clay had thrown him on to deal with, one that he knew would be irritating as fuck and take Jax the entire day to handle the “gang politics” of, but he claimed that Jax would benefit from the experience. 

He knew that wasn’t an excuse for his attitude with you, though. He knew that the second he woke up alone four days ago in his dorm room after that fight. Jax had dragged himself out of his bed, thrown on whatever clothes his hands had touched first, and then gotten onto his bike and rode straight to your apartment. He felt like an absolute asshole for the way he’d snapped at you, but he felt even worse for the way he’d just walked out of your apartment that night telling you not to even call him.

And that bad feeling only grew as the days had passed, settling like a heavy weight right in his goddamn gut. You never answered your door that morning when he’d come to apologize. Jax had just assumed that you needed some space after the fight, figuring he’d try again later so that he didn’t piss you off further. But you still hadn’t answered the door any of the times he’d stopped by in the days since. 

Everything had gotten worse after that. When he’d come into work at Teller-Morrow yesterday morning on Monday, you hadn’t been in the office. Which was strange because you never missed a day of work–you were always the hardest worker at the auto shop. But Jax left it alone despite the feeling in his gut telling him something wasn’t right. Maybe he really had just pushed you so far that you’d taken the day off. Maybe you still needed more time to calm down because he’d massively fucked up with you.

But then you hadn’t shown up today, either. 

Jax had stormed into the small office attached to the garage and demanded Gemma explain what the hell was going on earlier this morning. Jax had let you keep your distance long enough; he was done ignoring that feeling in his gut. And if for some reason he was wrong and you really were just pissed at him, he’d happily let you tear him to shreds–anything just to know that you were safe and still his girl. Because goddammit, he really fucking missed you.

But when Jax had barged into the auto shop's office this morning, he hadn’t expected his mother to tell him that you’d quit without warning a few days ago. Gemma told him that was all she knew, claiming she figured you’d already told Jax that you were going to quit your position as office manager. 

Except you hadn’t. You’d never expressed an interest in wanting to quit your position there. It was yet another thing that you absolutely wouldn’t do. It wasn’t like you to just go silent and disappear, quitting your job without even telling him that you were thinking about it. And that’s when the panic had finally set in for Jax.

He’d left the office, furiously pacing around his dorm room afterwards. Tugging at his hair, he tried hard to recall everything from that night. You’d called him an absurd amount of times that evening–something you’d never done before. Fifteen times. Your texts and voicemails had all said the same thing–that you’d needed him. No specifics, no explanations, just that you needed him.

None of what was going on these past few days felt like you. Something had happened and he’d fucking missed it. You had been trying to tell him something that night and he had been too tired, too focused on himself and how exhausted and irritated he’d been that day, to even see that something was wrong. That maybe you really did need him.

But you had looked perfectly fine when he’d stopped by your apartment. You hadn’t looked upset until he’d started shouting at you for yet again accusing him of cheating. And he’d been pissed off that not only had you called him to argue about that again, but because he had never wanted to touch another girl after meeting you. He’d told you that over a hundred times now and he meant it every fucking time he’d said it, but no matter how many times he did, you just wouldn’t seem to trust him. 

It wasn’t until Jax had thrown everything off the top of his dresser in his dorm room at the clubhouse, kicking a few boxes out of the way in his rage, that he remembered something from that night. One small, minute little detail. One little comment that had been quickly overshadowed by the accusations of him cheating.

You’d told him that Clay had visited your apartment earlier that day. That he’d threatened you. 

All of that had led to what Jax was doing now–breaking into your apartment.

He didn’t give a shit that it was mid-morning and anyone looking outside could’ve seen him picking the lock on your door. You weren’t answering your goddamn phone and you’d suddenly quit your job. Something was wrong with you–something more than just the fucking fight you’d had with him. And pairing that with the fact that you’d called him most likely afraid after Clay had made some sort of threat against you, Jax was fucking terrified he’d find you dead somewhere inside your apartment this morning.

Jax’s hands were shaking as he focused on picking the lock on your door, his teeth grinding together in barely contained frustration and nerves as he worked. If something had happened to you, he knew it was his fault. He hadn’t been there when you’d needed him. All he’d done was yell at you and walk away. 

Eventually, Jax heard the click of the lock. Returning the lockpicking tools into the inside pocket of his kutte, Jax twisted the handle of your door and pushed it open. His heart was hammering heavily inside of his chest as he stepped inside your apartment, closing the door after himself. 

“Baby?” he called out hesitantly. “It’s Jax. You here?”

No answer came.

That dark, terrifying feeling only grew in Jax’s gut as he stepped further inside, his eyes scanning around your place. Your living room looked as it usually did, not a single thing out of place. Even your blankets you liked to curl up with when you watched television were folded nice and neat on the back of your couch. 

Walking through the small space, a lump formed in the back of his throat. Jax had handled some high-stress situations plenty of times in his life. He’d been in gun fights, prison fights, and he’d negotiated with countless dangerous criminals over the years. But he’d never felt true fear like he did as he made his way around your apartment, a pit forming in his stomach.

Your kitchen looked just as pristine as the living room. There were no dishes in your sink, no sign of a struggle. Nothing out of place. Everything looked like it usually did whenever he’d come over to see you in the past.

Making his way down your short hallway next, Jax’s confusion only grew with each step he took. While he was grateful that he hadn't stumbled on your lifeless body lying anywhere in a pool of blood, he didn't understand what was going on. Where were you? Why weren’t you here? Where had you gone?

Flipping on the lightswitch of your bedroom, Jax made his way inside carefully. Your bed was neatly made and everything seemed just as pristine as the rest of your place. No clothing scattered on the floor, your bedside lamps weren’t knocked off the nightstand, the drawers of your dresser weren’t yanked out and thrown around. There was absolutely no sign of someone making you just disappear.

But he was missing something, he knew it.

Jax’s fingers ran over the comforter on your bed as he stepped further into the room, his eyes searching for something–anything. There had to be a clue as to what was going on, you couldn’t have just disappeared without a single trace. At the very least, he’d have expected a note. An angry text or voicemail. Something more than silence.

That’s when Jax’s eyes caught the way your top left drawer of your dresser was left open just a tiny fraction. As if maybe you hadn’t closed it completely because you’d been in a rush. Making his way over towards the slightly open drawer, his hand reached out and pulled it fully open.

It was empty. 

He knew this was the drawer you kept your bras and panties in–he’d watched you get dressed in here in the mornings more than enough times now. As his brows knit together, Jax’s hand slid over to the drawer beside it, the one he knew was filled with the cute little tank tops and cotton shorts you always slept in. But when he pulled that drawer open, it was also empty.

A deep frown dragged the corners of his lips downwards as Jax roughly shoved the drawer shut in his growing frustration. Turning around, he headed over to your closet and pulled it open. Half of your wardrobe was missing entirely. He stood there for a minute, just staring at the empty hangers as they taunted him with your absence. 

Inhaling a sharp breath, he shoved the closet door shut once more with a sharp bang. Running a hand across his bearded jaw, he turned and scanned the room again. Why were only a few of your things missing? What the hell was going on here that he wasn’t catching?

Wanting further proof that you’d really left Charming, Jax abruptly exited your bedroom and crossed the hallway to your small bathroom. He knew without a doubt that you’d never leave anywhere without that damn shampoo and conditioner you kept in your shower. He’d heard you complain about borrowing his enough times when you’d stayed over at his place that Jax finally told you to just leave some damn bottles in his own shower. 

Stepping into the bathroom, he reached a hand out and ripped the shower curtains all the way to one side. Your shower was empty, too. Devoid of your beloved shampoo and conditioner, and even that body wash that smelled so damn good it made him want to bury his face against your skin for hours just to inhale the scent of it.

You were gone. You’d really just left without a word. But why? And did it really have something to do with Clay? Something just wasn’t adding up here.

Releasing his tight grip on your shower curtains, Jax let out a low growl of frustration. But just as he’d been about to stalk out of your bathroom and back outside to his bike, a bright pink and white box sitting on the top of your bathroom garbage caught his eye. Taking a step closer to it, Jax bent over and reached out to pick it up.

Prenatal vitamins.

It felt as if all the oxygen had just been ripped straight from his lungs at the sight of the box in his hands. Prenatal vitamins–he knew what those were for. Pregnant women. But you weren't–

Hands shaking as he stared at the box in them, his eyes scanned over the image of a pregnant woman holding her belly on it as his mouth went bone dry. Feeling off balance, he reached a hand out to steady himself against the bathroom counter as his pulse jolted into a frenzy.

You were…pregnant? That's what you’d been trying to tell him? 

“Goddammit, baby,” he whispered to himself, feeling tears beginning to burn in his eyes. “I didn't fucking know. I didn't…”

Jax's voice trailed off as he stared at the box through his blurred vision, one hand running across his mouth. He'd fucked up. He'd really fucked up. You were pregnant with his baby and he'd just yelled at you and now you were gone. 

Both of you. 

A sick feeling hit Jax as he stood there staring at the box that had previously contained a bottle of prenatal vitamins–a bottle you’d clearly taken with wherever you'd gone. Had Clay somehow known you were pregnant? Did that have something to do with why you said he'd threatened you? Was that why you'd left without a word? Because you needed to get somewhere safe from his twisted step-father who’d spent months trying to shove you apart? Was that why he’d sent Jax off to Oakland that day?

Gritting his teeth together, Jax slammed a fist sharply onto your bathroom counter, barely registering the sting of pain to his knuckles. You had come to him for help and he'd failed you. He'd let you down.

With a dangerous rage unfurling inside of him, Jax set his jaw and stalked out of your bathroom, making his way through your apartment and back out to his bike in the lot. The pink and white box was smashed in his fist as he moved, each of his steps filled with determination. 

Driving back to Teller-Morrow only took a matter of minutes. Jax had parked and turned off his bike, retrieving that damn box once more before he turned and headed straight to the office. He was going to figure out what the fuck was going on. He was done with the bullshit lies.

Slamming the office door wide open, the door battered into the wall with a loud, abrasive noise. Gemma and one of the younger guys from the garage startled at the interruption. Both of them looked over at Jax, taking in the look of pure unbridled rage on his face. 

“Get out,” Jax snapped at the mechanic.

Gemma loudly scoffed as she swiveled her chair towards her son. “Jackson, that's not–”

“Get the fuck out!” Jax roared over his mother's words. 

Sebastian, a newer mechanic at the shop, instantly ducked his head and bolted through the door that led back into the garage. Gemma sat back in her chair, looking annoyed at Jax for having interrupted her conversation. That only pissed him off further at this point.

“Jax, you can't just–”

“Where the fuck is she, ma?” Jax snapped, cutting her off. He said your name, gripping that damn box tighter in his hand. “And don't fucking lie to me again!”

“I already told you earlier, Jax,” she began, her eyes narrowing back at him. “She unexpectedly quit. I don't know anything else.”

“Bullshit!” he growled. “That's bullshit, Gemma! I fucking know you and Clay have been trying to tear us apart from the fucking beginning. Don't goddamn lie to me right now, ma. Where is she?”

“I didn't do a goddamn thing to your little girlfriend,” Gemma replied. “I got no damn clue–”

Jax slammed his hand down onto the desk, abruptly quieting his mother. Gemma's gaze dropped down to the smashed box he'd left there, her eyes taking a moment to read the writing on it. A second later, her gaze flew up to Jax's.

“What is that?” she asked.

“Prenatal vitamins, ma,” Jax told her bitterly. “Just found them at her place. Her place where she looks like she packed some things and fled.” He paused, trying desperately to reign in his own anger right now so he could get answers, his hands curled into tight fists at his sides. “Guessing that means she's pregnant with my kid, so I'm gonna ask you one more goddamn time, and I want you to stop bullshitting me.” He leaned forward, the question coming out like a snarl, “What the fuck is going on?”

Gemma sat quietly in her desk chair for a long moment, her eyes stuck on the misshapen box lying on her desk. The room grew thick with tension in the following silence before she finally spoke again, her voice quiet and just barely audible over the noise coming from the garage. 

“Clay,” she answered. “Had to be Clay. Told me he had something on her to make her leave Charming, but Jax–” her eyes flew up towards her son's furious blue ones, “–I swear I didn't know that she was pregnant. I had no idea. If she's carrying my grandbaby, you know I'd never do something like that. I'd never run her out of town with my own flesh and blood inside of her.”

Jax’s lips curled back into a feral snarl at her explanation. Gemma knew? She knew that Clay was trying to run you out of Charming and out of his life? And she’d just let him?

“You wanna earn back my fucking trust then?” he snapped, taking an intimidating step towards his mother as he loomed over her in her chair. “Ever be in that kid's life when I do find her? Because I promise you that I fucking will find her.”

Gemma was nodding instantly, her expression serious. “Of course I do,” she answered. “Of course that’s what I want.”

“Then you're gonna help me find out what the hell happened to her,” he told her, voice low and dangerous. “And then you're gonna help me deal with Clay. For good.”

[antonology]

— DIVE IN

pairing: nonidol au! swimmer bf! anton x fem! reader

genre: fluff, established relationship

word count: 1.5k (lowercase intended)

synopsis: you decide you want to swim with your boyfriend anton this weekend. the problem? you can’t swim. so anton makes it his responsibility to teach you.

“i don’t think this is a good idea.”

the weekends were always you and your boyfriend’s, anton, quality time days. you were feeling ambitious this week following your accomplishments. you had just finished exams, managed to keep your high gpa, and even became president of the photography club. this ambitiousness carried through the week, and it wasn’t until friday evening that you had texted anton you wanted to go swimming.

you didn’t know how to swim.

or at least, swim like he did.

where anton was practically a professional, the last time you were in water, you had managed to step into the shallow side of the pool before plummeting down and swallowing a mouthful of pool water right in front of him. you vowed to yourself you would never engage in swimming ever again to save yourself from embarrassment.

but here you were, standing at the edge of the pool on a sunny saturday afternoon, about to do exactly what you told yourself you wouldn’t. you regretted your idea immediately. the sun reflected against the clear water, causing the wavelike motions to appear like shiny sparkly waves.

anton was already one step down into the pool, his hand holding yours. his eyes shone with amusement as he turned to look at you, quirking an eyebrow “you said you wanted to swim”

“i know but…” you trailed off. without even realizing, your hands began to tremble.

a gentle smile formed on his lips, intertwining his fingers with yours and bringing your hand up to his lips. he placed a kiss onto the back of your hand, his lips lingering for a few mere seconds before turning to fully face you. he reached his free hand towards yours, holding both of your hands in his. “i’ll be with you every step of the way, y/n. and if you decide you want to stop, we can stop” he says, his voice soft and light as a feather. anton was never one to push you to do things, always letting you go at your own pace, and that always put you at ease. especially at times like this. the tremble in your hands disappeared as you nodded your head slowly.

he began to take steps down into the pool, his eyes never leaving you as his hands guided you, keeping a firm grip to hold you steady. you followed his lead as your eyes glued to your feet, watching them become submerged into the water. you were slow, taking one step at a time, but he never pushed. simply watched and supported. it wasn’t long until your feet were planted on the bottom of the pool, the water just above your chest.

“you did it” anton whispered, a smile on his lips as he squeezed your hands, a gentle reminder that he was still there with you.

feeling more reassured, you tilted your head to look up at your boyfriend, leaning on your tippy toes to plant a small kiss onto his lips. he responded immediately, kissing your lips tenderly and gently. the kiss was brief and short, but it still made your heart flutter nonetheless.

“can i watch you swim?” you asked, your shoulders visibly perking in excitement. you were always mesmerized at how good anton was when it came to swimming. you would never get tired of watching him in the water. he laughed and nodded his head, taking a step back cautiously and warily “are you sure you’re okay if i let go?” he asked, referring to your hands intertwined together.

“i’m okay, i just wanna see you swim”

without having to ask again, his stance shifted. where he was once standing tall in the shallow waters he was now floating on the water's surface. he began to kick his feet, his face in the water as his arms moved in long, big strokes. you watched with wide eyes, taking in the perfect form and sharp angles his body created. his muscles rippled and you couldn’t help but ogle at them despite seeing them a thousand times. he swam effortlessly to the opposite end of the pool, curling his body inwards and spinning. you gasped as he planted his feet to the pool wall before kicking off, swimming back to you.

he stood up in the pool, water dripping down his entire body from head to toe. his hair curly and strands of hair stuck to his forehead from the water. he gasped for air, rubbing his hands against his face to wipe the water away, his chest rising up and down rapidly. you, so in awe, could do nothing but look at him with those same wide eyes.

and then you clapped.

anton shook his head, water flinging and flying from his hair as he laughed, his muscled arms coming around your waist and tugging you flush to his chest.

“watching you swim is so beautiful, it’s like a piece of art” you said, your arms looping around his neck. “cheesy much” he joked as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“teach me” you whispered, unraveling your arms around his neck. he didn’t hesitate to agree.

his hand pressed flat against your stomach as he helped you lie straight on the waters surface, similar to him a few minutes ago.

“kick your feet-“

anton was cut off by water splashing onto his face from the force of your feet coming in contact with the water, your miserable attempt at kicking. he sputtered out and tilted his head back, placing a hand on the back of your calves “slowly. you wanna make small little splashes” he said, shifting his hand to guide your feet in a kicking motion that wasn’t as strong, but strong enough to cause small splashes.

“you’re doing great y/n” he whispered, but you were too focused on kicking your feet to see the proud smile he had on his face.

“how do i move my arms like you did?” you asked as you began to move both arms in long strokes, arms splashing against the water. anton stepped towards your front, now standing in front of you as he watched you stroke “imagine my palms are targets and you’re trying to hit them. but keep kicking your feet just like that, you’re doing so good” he said, placing his hands palm up on the surface of the water.

you did as you were told, eyes glued to his palms, arms stroking one after the other. your palms gently coming into contact, high fiving him as you attempted to move both your arms while continuously kicking. suddenly, you couldn’t feel his palms anymore, and it was because anton had taken a few steps back. his hands were still outstretched, preparing to catch you if anything happened “try swimming to me” he said softly, his tone gentle and urging.

you held your breath, body already aching from all the movements. you weren’t used to moving like this, let alone in a body of water. you began to move, successfully swimming towards him, a slight feeling of confidence and excitement blooming inside of you. however, those feelings plummeted quickly as you felt yourself being submerged in water, no longer swimming towards anton, but going underwater instead despite following his instructions.

he was quick to hold you up before you could get a face full of water, his grin wide, showing off his pearly whites as he cupped your cheeks “did you see yourself? you did it! you were swimming!”

“but i didn’t even reach you” you clutched onto his forearms, feeling his muscles beneath your palm, a small pout forming onto your lips as your eyes connected with his.

anton didn’t care, he had seen how hard you tried, how much you accomplished, and he was fully prepared to cheer you on. he squished your cheeks gently, causing your pouty lips to pout even more “and? y/n that was amazing. you were swimming! it doesn’t how far you went, you did it” he said, his voice laced with a hint of awe and wonder. his boasting made you feel better almost instantly, your pout forming into a smile. but not before he leaned in and captured your lips with his.

the kiss was slow and gentle, his lips moving against yours in perfect sync. your lips pulled apart and touched again at the same time, and you couldn’t help but smile into the kiss. when he pulled away, his wide grin had replastered itself onto his face “wanna go again?”

“i think i‘m good for the day. that was a lot for me” you said, holding up a hand to interject as you shook your head.

he nodded, shaking his head and placing his hands on your hips. he pressed a kiss to your cheek as he spoke, “okay, that’s okay. want me to make you iced coffee?”

“and chocolate covered strawberries?”

“and chocolate covered strawberries.”

“okay, deal!” you said excitedly.

anton’s grip tightened on your hips as he easily picked you up in the water, throwing you over his shoulder. you let out a squeal as you came face to face with his back, gently pounding your fist on his back “hey!” you shouted.

but anton didn’t put you down as he carried you out of the pool.

“let’s get out of here”

[e1e4n0r5]

Opposites Attract

Fandom: Arcane: League of Legends

Pairing: College AU. Jock Vi x Class President Reader

Words: 5366 (not including text messages)

Synopsis: As the star of the football team, Vi Lanes can't risk her reputation by associating with the nerdy Class President. It won't stop her fucking you, though.

Warnings: Vi is kinda mean, alcohol (college party), top!Vi, bottom!reader, teasing from peers, spanking, mild choking, bondage/wrist restraint, edging and ruined orgasm, pussy slapping, fingering (r! receiving), oral sex (Vi and r! receiving), strap on (r! receiving), reference to strap as cock, hair pulling, name calling, Vi wipes her fingers 👀 on your face, smidgen of aftercare

Notes: I know nothing about American football, so neither does Reader! I've also never written college AUs before and yet this is the second one in a week 😂

Vi Lanes had beer running down her throat, upside down and weightless, as the crowd around her chanted like she was a goddamn legend.

She dropped down from the keg stand, wiping her mouth with the back of her bandaged hand to a round of cheers and someone slapping her on the back hard enough to knock her forward. She grinned, flushed and victorious, and took a dramatic bow.

And that’s when she saw you.

The Class President. In the chaos of a keg party.

Across the room, you chatted with Mel in the hallway, laughing genuinely, holding a can of premixed Cosmo.

Oh, this was too good.

“What she doing here?” she asked Jayce beside her.

He groaned. “Vi, you may not like her, but other people do! She’s CP, for fuck’s sake, a good one too!”

“Be right back,” she muttered, a small sway to her steps.

She cut across the living room, dodging a couple making out near the coat rack. You hadn’t seen her yet, too busy being charming and composed in the middle of this trainwreck.

Vi drawled your name, coming to a stop next to you and Mel. “Didn’t think you knew how to party without a sign-up sheet.”

You turned your head, your eyes doing a full, deliberate examination of her tank top, ripped jeans, and boots, and then came back up to rest on her face.

“I’m surprised you’re still upright,” you replied smoothly.

Vi smirked. “Aww, you worried about me?”

“Just don’t want any accidents,” you said. “Lots of paperwork and PR when college students end up in hospital with alcohol poisoning.”

“You think one little keg stand is gonna put me in the hospital? Cupcake, I’m offended.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Is this you trying to flirt with me?”

Vi tilted her head. “Trying?”

Neither of you noticed Mel slipping away with a grin on her face.

You gave her a tired look, but she didn’t miss the ghost of a smile tugging at your lips.

“Why you here?” she asked. “Figured you’d be home…Alphabetising colour-coded spreadsheets or somethin’.”

You glared, stiffening a little. “I was invited,” you folded your arms. “I might leave soon anyway. Always got loads of work to do.”

Vi stepped just a bit closer, bracing her forearm against the wall next to your head. “Need a ride?”

You frowned. “You’re drunk, you can’t drive.”

“Not drunk, sugar, I can handle my shit.”

“Still wouldn’t pass a breathalyser. My house is only a few minutes away, anyway; I walked over.”

Vi looked down at your feet. “In those heels? Damn, Cupcake, you’re tough.”

You smiled back as you wiggled your toes. “I swapped out my flats when I got here.”

She regarded your feet in your heels. “Well, what do you say we head back to yours and you put those heels on my shoulders?”

Your eyes widened. “Really?”

She smirked back. “First time with a girl?”

“No.”

“Great. Shall we get going then?”

You regarded her closely. “You're serious?”

“Deadass, baby.”

“This isn’t a joke?"

“No joke.”

“We’re going back to my house, together?”

“Yup.”

“To do what?”

Vi smirked. “I got a few ideas. Want me to tell you all of ‘em?”

You blushed. Why not? Violet Lanes might be a dick, but you only live once, and you couldn’t deny how hot she was. “Okay. Let’s go.”

She put her arm around your waist, escorting you to the door. She pushed aside the couple still making out by the coat rack, handing you your coat and mesh bag with spare flats, and pulled on her own leather jacket.

As Vi opened the front door and ushered you out, Jayce and Mel watched you leave. With a groan, he pulled out his wallet, took out a $10 bill, slapping it into her hand.

She smiled back, tucking it into her bra. “It's only taken them two years.”

Vi practically fell into the armchair opposite Jayce and Mel as they sat curled up on the sofa in their shared house. “Sup,” she greeted.

They both grinned at Vi, who was oblivious as she cracked open the tab of her drink.

“Hey,” Jayce greeted. “How are you feeling after last night?”

Vi swigged her drink as memories of you flooded her brain. The sounds you made as she fucked you with her fingers, her name spilling from your lips like a prayer; the smell and feel of your perfect pussy on her face, your soft, warm thighs clamped around her head; the sight of you on your knees in front of her, looking up at her with those beautiful eyes as you ate her out. It definitely hadn’t been your first time eating cunt. Her clit throbbed as she remembered how many times you’d made each other cum. She thought she got you to eight screaming orgasms before you almost passed out on your bed.

She cleared her throat. “Yeah. Yeah, good.”

“Just good?” Mel asked, teasing somewhat. She’d been texting you since the night before, just checking in, but you hadn’t read her messages until only an hour before (something unheard of for you), saying you were exhausted after the party and had slept all morning.

Vi frowned. She looked at Mel closely. “I’m fine. Why?”

“No, no reason,” she evaded, still a mischievous glint in her eye.

Jayce covered a laugh with a cough. “What happened to you at the party? I couldn’t find you anywhere, it wasn’t even late.”

Vi shifted nervously. “Yeah…No…I just got bored, decided to head home early.”

He nodded along, still stifling a smirk. “Alone?”

Her eyes widened. How could he know? She hadn’t told anyone, and she was sure you wouldn’t. You didn’t seem like the kind to kiss and tell, that was why she took you home in the first place. You were hot, sure, in your little skirts and nerdy glasses, carrying those little folders everywhere, but you were still the Class President. She was on the football team – practically college royalty – she was going to be famous one day. She couldn’t risk her reputation with you. But you were hot, and she’d been horny for you since freshman year, so she'd figured what damage could one night do?

“I gotta go. See you around.”

Practice on Monday morning was great, it was good for Vi to clear her head after obsessing over you the whole weekend. She’d avoided Jayce and Mel the whole time, running out of the house first thing in the morning before class, just in case they tried to talk to her at breakfast.

The college’s gym for the group training session afterwards was when it started.

“Hey, Lanes!” one of her teammates called. “Hell of a party for you on Friday, huh?”

Vi looked up from adjusting the bandages on her wrists. “What?”

“Yeah, the CP. You two get it on, or did she just recite the college rules all night?” he snickered, some others joining in.

“Section 8, sub-section 12 – oh god, yes, yes!” one of the players moaned loudly.

Vi clenched her fists and shook her head. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

“Seriously? You leave a party with our Class President and we’re not allowed to ask if we should call you ��First Lady Violet’ now?”

She forced a laugh. “Wow, you guys have gone crazy. I’m hittin’ the benches, you freaks do whatever you want.”

Vi tracked you down as fast as she could, running through the corridors until she found you. You stood at your locker in the main building, flipping through your planner as you mentally organised your week ahead.

“People know.”

You startled as Vi suddenly appeared next to you, speaking in a low, urgent tone.

“What?”

“People know,” she repeated. “About,” she quickly looked around the hallway but there weren't a lot of people around, “About what happened. Between us. People on the team have been cracking jokes, making these little comments about us...Jayce and Mel too!”

You paused, processing that. “Oh. Interesting.”

“No, not ‘interesting’! Who did you tell?” she accused.

You shook your head. “I haven't told anyone-”

“Yeah, because it's embarrassing!” she interrupted.

You glared back. “I haven't told anyone because my private life is just that: private. It’s no-one else's business what I do in my free time. If people have found out, maybe it's because you approached me at a party and we left together? Loads of people probably saw us,” you pointed out sarcastically.

“Well, you gotta deny it, okay? If anyone asks, you says it's not true, they're crazy, you don't know what they're talking about.”

“Okay, firstly, that's called gaslighting. Secondly, why would I deny the best sex I've ever had?”

Vi blinked, totally caught off guard. “B-because it's humiliating for me,” she spluttered. “Okay? I'm on the football team, I can't be associated with the nerd Class President. You're such a goody-goody, it'll ruin my reputation!”

You let that sink in, allowing the hurt to roll through you. You breathed slowly for a second, letting out a calming breath through your nose. “Fine,” you said, shutting down. “There's no need for us to associate with each other anymore. Good luck with Friday’s game.” You looked back at your planner, trying to focus on it but really you just needed to look anywhere other than the woman who just ripped you to shreds.

“Are...Are you gonna be there?”

You scoffed. “Trust me, it's not how I would choose to spend hours of my Friday night but I have to go; as Class President, I'm expected to attend all major events, and sporting events against rival universities, unfortunately, count.”

Vi nodded, adjusting her jacket. But then she paused. “I-I'm sorry if I was kinda harsh-”

“It's fine, I get it. Image is very important to you,” you assured numbly, flicking through pages but not reading anything. Your eyes started to burn with unshed tears. You needed her to leave.

She nodded again, feeling weird in her chest. “Well, see ya around, I guess...?”

You nodded. “Goodbye.”

She walked past you just as your lip started to tremble. You closed your locker and calmly but quickly headed into the nearest bathroom. Thankfully it was empty as you entered a stall, locking the door behind you, and allowed yourself to cry.

The game was going well. Dressed warmly for the chilly evening weather, school’s colours painted on your cheeks, you stood with your friends in the stands, cheering and whooping when your team earned points. You really didn't understand the rules or the scoring, but you were enjoying yourself as much as you could.

Violet, you hated to admit, was on the top of her game. She'd already scored multiple times for your team, earning loud cheers and applause that only grew with each success. Little did you know, it was you spurring her on.

She hadn't wanted to, but she'd looked for you in the crowd before the game started. When she saw you, her heart skipped a beat, and she found herself wanting to prove her skill on the field. Every time she scored, she looked your way, soul lifting when she saw you cheering. She knew you weren't cheering for her, but she didn't care. She had made you happy, even just for a second.

Fuck. And she was the one who’d told you to stay away.

Your school won the game, with an excellent score (according to your friends). As was expected, you headed down to the field along with university leadership, and congratulated every member of the team, many of whom winked or smiled at you knowingly. When you got to Violet, you made a show of being polite and professional, with a handshake and stiff “well played”. She just smirked back at you as she shook your hand, her helmet tucked under her arm.

It felt like forever until you finally got home after the game, exhausted after the long day, yet you still had work to do. The life of a Class President often felt relentless. You made yourself a cup of herbal tea and headed upstairs to your room. Settling down at your laptop with some lo-fi hip hop music playing, you got to it.

Some time passed before your phone buzzed. Pausing in typing an email, you checked your screen. A DM from Vi. You cursed under your breath. What did she want? You sighed and unlocked your phone, going to your messages.

Your eyes almost hurt from rolling so hard. Seriously? Was she actually messaging for a booty call after what she said only a few days earlier? You paused and decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. It could be something innocent. You wouldn’t know until you asked.

“And there it is,” you mumbled. Shaking your head, you replied.

You couldn't believe the audacity of this woman. She seduces you first in public, gets upset when people find out, yet now she wants to do it again?!

You stood up in a panic. Would she really come over? It had been her insisting that the two of you stayed away from each other, given how embarrassed she was by you. Yet here she was, not just flirting but spelling out exactly what she had in mind.

Before you could panic more, your phone buzzed again in your hand.

She was serious, she was coming over.

Fuck! You ran into your bathroom, stripped off your jeans and underwear, and freshened up your pussy with a washcloth. You applied some deodorant to your underarms, a quick spray of perfume, and swilled some mouthwash. Your make up still looked fresh, though you hadn't taken the school’s colours off your cheeks. Realising you couldn't wipe them off without ruining the rest of your make up, you cursed and left them on. You didn't have time to take the braid out of your hair, so that would be fine.

You pulled on a robe to cover your bare lower half, but then panicked over whether that looked too desperate. You pulled on a pair of fresh panties, not too fancy but not too casual, and some sleep shorts.

Fuck, what was this woman doing to you?

You didn't have time to do anything else; the sound of a vehicle pulling up outside your house rang through your bedroom. You ran downstairs but paused behind the door. No, wait. Don't seem eager. Let her knock.

You waited until footsteps approached your door and the doorbell rang. It took everything in you to wait and not answer it immediately.

“Princess, I know you're standing right there. Just open the door.”

You could practically hear her cocky smirk.

You groaned in annoyance but did as she said. Taking off the chain and unlocking the door, you opened it. There she was. Freshly showered, she was indeed smirking rather smugly at you. Leather jacket, tank top, ripped jeans, and a shit-ton of arrogance.

“What do you want?” you challenged.

It was pointless. You both knew why she was there.

“To fuck that attitude outta you, that's what,” she drawled, stepping inside and closing the door behind her.

You balked. “Presumptuous.”

“What, are you not gonna congratulate the star of the game? I won that for us tonight.”

“I did congratulate you all, at school.”

She shrugged, stepping closer to you. “Eh, that was only your ‘official duty’ as CP. You not gonna do it properly?”

You raised an eyebrow and crossed your arms. “Aren’t you supposed to be at the after party? People will notice you're not there; what’ll you tell them when they ask where you were? Because, remember, you can't embarrass yourself and tell the truth.”

She just chuckled. “Oh, so feisty tonight. I sure hope you've given yourself the morning off tomorrow, you're gonna be sore.”

“Oh, am I-?”

You squeaked as she reached out a hand and took hold of your throat, just hard enough to stop you mid-sentence. Your eyes widened as she pulled you close, something firm pressing against your stomach. Her free hand cupped your ass, squeezing firmly.

“What was that, Cupcake?” she smirked, leaning in and pressing a kiss just below your ear. You shivered. “You gonna be a good girl now?”

You tried to protest, then she spanked you. Hard.

“Ow!”

“Plenty more where that came from, sugar. Now, be a good girl and get that ass upstairs before I do something I'll enjoy.”

She released your throat with a little push, nodding her head up the stairs. You backed away a few steps and watched her lock the door, put the chain on, and turn off the porch light. When she was finished, she turned back to you.

“What did I say, sweetheart?” she advanced on you threateningly, like a tiger ready to pounce on its prey.

You scrambled up the stairs and hurried to your bedroom. Just as you were about to reach your doorway, a pair of arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you back into a strong torso.

“Too late, Cupcake.”

You were lifted clean off your feet. Vi walked forward into your room and put you down over the end of the bed, your body pressed against your neatly made bed sheets, legs hanging off the edge. She eased your robe off you, throwing it onto the floor. A firm hand between your shoulder blades kept you pinned.

“Violet-” you started to protest but she cut across you.

“No Sunday names here, princess, not with what we're about to get up to. Give me your hands, sweetheart,” she instructed in your ear. You hesitated. “C'mon now, give me those hands.” When you hesitated again, she stroked your hip. “I'm not a monster, Cupcake. If you don't want this, just say so. But if you do, you've got ‘til the count of three to be a good girl.”

You looked at her as best you could out of the corner of your eye. She looked back at you, her face unreadable.

“One.”

Your mind raced. Did you want this? Did you really want this? After everything she'd said to you just a few days ago, how cruel she was, did you really want to just give her your body like this?

“Two.”

On the other hand, you hadn't lied when you'd said it was the best sex of your life. Vi was incredibly skilled and generous, and you had no doubt tonight would also be incredible. You only live once, right?

“Thr-”

You put your hands behind your back, crossing them at the wrist.

Vi chuckled in your ear. “Cut it pretty close there, sweetheart. Glad you made the right decision.” With one hand still pressed against your back, she unbuckled her belt, pulling it free of the loops on her jeans. “Don't move, baby.” She removed her hand from your back and started passing her soft leather belt around your wrists. You whimpered as she did, realising just how vulnerable you were about to become.

When she finished, she patted your butt through your shorts. “These are coming off though.” Tucking her thumbs into the waistband of your shorts, she eased them down your hips and off your legs, tossing them on top of your robe. She traced the lace across the cheeks of your panties. “These are pretty,” she complimented.

“Thank you,” you whimpered as she slipped her finger through the back, bunched the material together, and pulled upwards a little. The pressure on your clit made you mewl weakly. “Vi…”

“What is it, baby? What do you need?”

You pled, “Don’t tease me.”

Vi tugged your panties harshly and delivered a harsh spank. “You’ll take what I give you and say thank you, Madame President,” she mocked.

“Fuck you, jock,” you snapped.

She just laughed. “Oh, you think you’re so tough. Baby, I’ll have you begging for more soon enough.”

You hated that you knew she was right.

And just as she said, you were. Vi had spanked your ass red, switching casually between your cheeks as you whined and humped her hand as she rubbed your clit. Just enough to torment you but never enough to let you finish. You tried to resist, to be strong against her cockiness, to prove you didn’t need to beg. Alas, you caved. Your thighs wet from your juices, your ass stinging, your clit almost painful, you finally begged.

“Vi, please! Please, god, let me cum!”

She rubbed your clit faster and harder, finally using enough pressure to properly stimulate your bundle of nerves. You moaned and rode her hand, quickly building to a peak. You climbed and climbed, your toes starting to tingle as you drew closer. You finally reached your climax…

And she stopped, releasing your panties and snatching her hand away from your clit.

You whined loudly at the ruined climax and she turned you over, sitting you up on the edge of the bed. You cried out as you were forced onto your raw cheeks. With a hand holding your hair firmly, her other dragged your soaked underwear down to your knees. She started to torment your pussy again, slowly, gently, as she leant in close.

“Are you gonna take what I give you, sweetheart?”

Even in your clouded state, you knew what she meant. Take what she offers outside of the bedroom and be grateful, don't ask for more.

You groaned and didn't answer.

She tugged your hair and slapped your pussy. “Answer me, baby. If you don't, I'll leave right now. Hmmm? Leave you here all high and dry? Well, you're soaking wet, but you know what I mean,” she taunted. “You gonna be a good girl? I'll fuck you good, and you'll say thank you. Best sex you ever had, remember?”

“Ohhh, fuck you,” you argued.

She slapped your pussy again, followed by your inner thighs. “You feelin’ brave tonight, huh.”

You whined her name, lifting your hips when she slid her fingers into you. She pumped inside you until your pussy started to squeeze her fingers, then she withdrew them completely.

“No! Vi, stop it, just let me finish!” you panted.

“Not when you're being such a brat,” she shook her head. “You let me know when you're ready to be a good girl; I've got all night and two hands.”

You don't know how long it lasted or how many times Vi tormented you, working you to the edge but never letting you go over. Again and again, she promised you pleasure but took it away each time. After a while, she swapped hands nonchalantly, mockingly wiping your own juices across your face before holding your hair again.

You whined as the familiar sensation started building inside you yet again. “Please...”

She shoved her fingers deep inside but then held them still. “Are you gonna be good?” she asked again, getting right in your face, smelling the faint scent of your pussy on your face.

“Fuck!” you cursed. “Yes! Yes, I'll be good! Please, please just let me cum, Vi, please.”

She chuckled, “Good girl.” She pushed you backwards on the bed, spread your legs and started feasting on your cunt. You keened as she licked up and down your slit like a woman dying of thirst, sucking on your clit.

“I'm gonna cum,” you begged, your legs shaking around her head. “Oh god...”

She stayed between your legs, her hands pressing your thighs against her head, holding you in place as she brought you to a real and powerful climax. Your moans filled the room as you trembled and shook on the bed, calling her name in a series of pathetic whines.

She waited until you stopped shaking, then released your legs. Leaning over you, her chin wet with your juices, she wiped them off with her palm and then rubbed them on your cheeks, smearing the colours painted on your face.

“You done being a brat now?” she mocked.

You wanted to curse her out, tell her to go fuck herself, to get out of your house...But all you could do was tremble and moan.

She laughed. “I'll take that as a yes.” She pulled her tank top over her head, followed by her sports bra. She unzipped her jeans, slipping them and her underwear down her muscled legs. When she straightened up, your eyes widened.

“You done this before?” she asked, stroking the thick toy attached to her strap. You didn't answer, just stared at the cock that you knew would soon be fucking your brains out. She called your name, but you still stared. She grabbed your face, squishing your cheeks. “I said, have you done this before?”

You nodded dumbly.

“Oh, thought it would be cool to pop your cherry. Maybe I'll pop the other one soon,” she winked. Roughly flipping you over onto your belly, she shoved a pillow under your hips. “Well, would you look at that?” She lifted your head and forced you to look up.

On the wall in front of you was your mirror, offering a perfect view of the two of you on your bed. She struck a powerful image behind you, toned torso beautifully lit from your desk lamp, chest out, strap on display.

“That's such a pretty sight, don't you think?” she teased, leaning down and tugging your ear lobe with her teeth. “Look how fucked you are.”

You did indeed look fucked. Hair a mess, make up and face paint smeared, mouth open in a dazed fucked-out look. You whined pitifully, closing your eyes.

“Poor baby,” she cooed, releasing your hair. “But we're not finished yet, sweetheart.” She ran the tip of her toy through your wet and swollen folds, gathering your juices for her entry. “Say please, baby.”

You just whined into your sheets.

She spanked your ass, one on each cheek. “Say please.”

“Vi...” you begged. Begged to be fucked or begged for mercy, you didn't know.

She spanked you again. “Say please,” she repeated.

“Violet,” you cried, some tears escaping your eyes against your will. “I-I can't...” you hiccupped.

“Yes, you can. You're a big girl. It's one word. Say please.”

You cried and whined but she was patient. After a few seconds, you weakly lifted your head. “Please, Vi.”

She leant down next to your ear and pressed a surprisingly gentle kiss to your temple. “Well done, sweetheart.” She slid inside you slowly, drawing out a long moan from both of you. “God, you're so perfect, baby. So good for my cock.”

She filled you with long and deep thrusts, nudging your cervix every time. You groaned when she did, your cunt pulsing. Vi could tell when you humped your hips back against hers with every thrust. She held herself low over you, her chest pressed to your back, filling you slowly and deeply.

“So pretty,” she praised in your ear, watching your reflections in the mirror. “Open your eyes, baby. Watch yourself get fucked.”

You obeyed, forcing your head up and your eyes open. You watched your face as Vi filled you, watching how your mouth dropped open a little at the top of her thrusts, your eyes glazing over just a little more every time.

“Pretty...” you mumbled as you looked at Vi’s reflection.

She smiled back at you - smiled, not smirked – as she knelt back on her knees, held your hips, and started fucking you into oblivion.

You cried out as she did, not expecting the sudden change of pace and force, but with your arms still behind your back, there was nothing you could do. Your only option was to lie there and get fucked. You moaned at the thought.

Vi’s smile switched back to her usual smirk. “You like this, huh? You like getting fucked raw?”

You let out a long, low moan, nodding your head pathetically. It felt so good, her strap stretching and filling you in the best ways.

Never slowing her thrusts, she unravelled her belt around your wrists, tossing it to the side. She moved your arms for you, resting them in front of you, rubbing your shoulders, the tenderness completely at odds with the animalistic nature of her thrusts. She rubbed up and down your back, soothing your muscles as she fucked you senseless, one long moan pouring from your throat.

“You gonna cum again already, sweetheart?” she taunted, massaging the juncture between your neck and shoulder.

You nodded, your head dropped into the covers.

“You know what I'm gonna say?”

“Please!” you cried.

She chuckled. “Good girl. You can cum now.”

With permission given – something you never realised was so hot – your pussy clamped down on her strap, your body trembling beneath her. She praised you through it, rubbing your back and hips until you stopped moving.

“Was that good, baby?” she asked, earning a weak nod. “Who said we're done?”

Vi suddenly pulled your hips up, bringing your ass against her strap. With a hand tangled in your hair, she resumed her punishing pace. You screamed as her thrusts hit your end, assaulting that tender spot inside you. She squeezed and spanked your ass, holding your cheeks in her hands.

“Fuck, look at this ass,” she groaned to herself. “It's so pretty. Look how it moves, baby, watch it as I fuck you.”

You were only just able to lift your head, chin still resting on the covers as you watched Vi fuck you. Your ass cheeks rocked back and forth with every thrust, captivating as you watched. Vi squeezed your flesh as she fucked you, delivering alternating spanks, your skin rippling.

“Fuck’s sake, baby, I won't last,” she moaned as the ribbed inside of the strap rubbed against her clit. She threaded her fingers into your hair from behind, slowly pulling you up onto your elbows. “You like this, Cupcake? You like getting fucked like the slut you are?”

You whined in excitement.

She ran her tongue over her teeth as she smirked. “I knew you would, I know what you're really like. You act all proper and goody-goody, but under all that you're just a little slut. Not a problem for me, sweetheart, I'll fuck you like a slut any time you want.”

You moaned deeply. “Can I cum, Vi? I need to cum.”

She hummed thoughtfully. “Have you earned another one? Have you been good?”

“Yes, yes, I have! Please!”

“Tell you what: admit you're my little slut, and you can have another.” You pouted, earning some hard spanks. “Don't be a brat,” she scolded. “Brats don't get to cum, and you want to cum, don't you?”

You nodded desperately, pushing your hips back against her strap. “I want to cum, Vi, I need it.”

“Then say it like a good girl and you can.”

You pouted again, mumbling, “I'm a little slut.”

Vi shook her head. “You can do better than that. C’mon now, say it properly.”

With a desperate whine, you spoke louder. “I'm a little slut.”

“Whose little slut are you?”

“Yours.”

She moved her hand from your hair, sliding it under your hips, and starting to rub your clit. Your legs started shaking. “Say it again.”

“I'm your little slut.”

“Louder.”

“I'm your little slut,” you panted, humping Vi’s hand and strap.

“Louder, sweetheart.”

“I'm your little slut!”

“Then cum for me,” she demanded in your ear, and you gladly obeyed. Moving your hips like a bitch in heat, you panted and whined on her strap, just as Vi’s thrusts became erratic and she thrust into you for the final time, moaning long and low in your ear.

You panted together as she draped herself over your back, her head down over your shoulder. You reached up and gently stroked over her hair, resting your head against hers. After a few minutes, you wiggled, her weight becoming a little too heavy. With a groan, she rolled off you, her strap slipping out of you. Lying next to you, she threw an arm over your hips.

You laid together for a short while, catching your breath and cuddling close. Vi eventually shifted away.

“You want ice cream?”

You were barely able to lift your head, but you forced yourself to look at her, utter confusion on your face. “What?”

“You've earned a treat. You want some ice cream?” she asked, pulling on her jeans.

You didn't have the strength to argue, just pulled the covers over you. “Strawberry. And it better be the good stuff.”

End

[sunsetmade]

Can you write a rafe x gf!reader where she gets partnered up with jj for a school project and he has to come to her house and rafe is there the whole time staring him down while jj just makes jokes and eggs him on, rafe just LOVES reader so much he can't stand the thought of her being alone with someone he doesn't trust!

Hope you enjoy reading and thank you so much for the request!!!

All Mine

Frat! Rafe Cameron x Reader

The moment her phone buzzed with the email confirming her sociology project partner, she didn’t even have to read past the first line before a twist of nerves stirred in her stomach.

JJ Maybank.

Not nerves about the assignment—she could handle that. It was JJ. Obnoxious, loud, always grinning like he got away with something. The kind of guy who could make a classroom feel like a party with just a wink and a smirk.

No, her nerves weren’t about the work.

They were about Rafe.

Rafe Cameron—college royalty. Kook heir. First-name-basis with every frat guy, every bar owner, every professor who was willing to turn a blind eye to his antics. President of Phi Delta-whatever (she still couldn’t remember the Greek letters), and most importantly, her boyfriend.

Her very territorial, unfairly hot, occasionally overdramatic boyfriend.

And if there was one person on the planet Rafe didn’t trust, it was JJ Maybank. Pogue or not, Rafe had a whole list of reasons he didn’t like the guy, most of which revolved around the fact that JJ was exactly the kind of guy who would flirt with someone else’s girl just to prove he could.

So, knowing how it would go down, she still sent the text.

Just a heads up—I got paired with JJ for the sociology thing. He’s coming by around 5 to work on it.

The read receipt popped up almost immediately. Three dots appeared. Then:

Rafe: which jj

Rafe: like blond, annoying jj

Rafe: that jj???

She snorted, already curled up on her bed with her laptop balanced on her legs, his over-worn hoodie draped over her frame.

Her: Yes, that JJ. Be nice Ray.

No reply.

Just dots.

Then nothing.

She sighed, pressing her lips together to stifle a laugh.

Yeah. She braced herself.

⸻

When JJ showed up right on time, all beach-blond charm and cocky swagger, she already heard the tension in the air tighten.

She opened the door, her favorite hoodie hanging off one shoulder (one of Rafe’s that she cut), hair in a soft clip, and a polite smile.

He leaned against her doorway like it was a stage, a notebook in one hand and that familiar shit-eating grin on his face. “Well, well, well. Look who drew the lucky straw. I get the sweetest girl in class as my partner. Fate is real.”

She rolled her eyes, with a huff as she opened the door wider. “Don’t make this weird, JJ.”

“No promises,” he grinned, stepping inside.

But the second his foot crossed the threshold, JJ slowed to a halt.

Because Rafe was already there.

Sprawled on the couch like a lion in wait. Hood up. Remote in hand. Stony expression in place. A bottle of water half-finished beside him like he’d been there for hours—because in reality he had been and positioned himself exactly for maximum intimidation.

JJ’s eyes flicked to him. “Cameron.” He sneered, “What a surprise.”

“Is it?” Rafe asked, eyes dragging over him with disgust. “I live here.”

It wasn’t a lie. Rafe had practically moved in two months ago—his hoodie collection alone now took up half her closet. Still, the message was crystal clear.

She coughed, motioning toward the dining table. “Come on, JJ. Let’s start. Rafe’s just… hanging out.”

Rafe didn’t so much as blink. His arm was draped across the back of the couch like a silent threat, jaw tight, leg bouncing like he was actively resisting the urge to body-check JJ into a bookshelf.

JJ dropped his bag by the table, already smirking as he pulled out his notes. “So this is what it feels like to be under surveillance. Cozy.”

She sat beside him, pulling her laptop toward her. “Ignore him.”

JJ leaned in, voice low. “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one being watched like a hawk on parole.”

She bit back a laugh secretly loving how Rafe was intimidating him.

From the couch, she could feel Rafe’s stare burn hotter every time JJ so much as gestured in her direction.

“I swear,” JJ muttered as he opened his textbook, “he’s not even blinking. Like, does he sleep with his eyes open too?”

“Just focus,” she whispered. “We’re already behind on the first section.”

“I’m trying, but every time I say a word, your boyfriend looks at me like I committed war crimes.”

Rafe’s voice sliced across the room, low and sharp. “You done talking?”

JJ blinked, then slowly turned toward him with a grin. “Not even close.”

She exhaled and groaned rubbing her hand down her face, “JJ just leave him alone.”

“I’m just saying—he’s got the whole ‘scary boyfriend’ thing down. It’s kind of impressive.”

Rafe’s stare didn’t waver.

JJ turned to her and mock-whispered, “Blink twice if you want me to fake an emergency and leave.”

She hid her smile behind her hand. “We’re literally on the introduction slide.”

“Fine, fine.” JJ stretched back in his chair, lazily scribbling in his notebook. “I’ll behave. But if he tackles me mid-discussion on Marxist theory, you’re my witness.”

For the next hour and a half, they somehow managed to make progress. JJ cracked jokes. Rafe said nothing, but his jaw never unclenched. And she alternated between stifled laughter and secondhand stress, silently praying Rafe wouldn’t snap and launch JJ through the window.

When the session finally ended, JJ stood and stretched like he’d just finished a marathon. “Well, that was productive. I’ll clean up the formatting tomorrow—unless your guard dog needs to inspect my PowerPoint slides too.”

She stood with him, closing her laptop. “Thanks for coming. And for mostly behaving.”

JJ grinned. “I try.”

He turned to Rafe on his way out, hand over his heart. “Always a pleasure, Cameron. Really loving the whole mafia-bodyguard vibe you’ve got going. It’s giving Goodfellas, but with extra protein powder.”

Rafe didn’t respond. Just lifted his chin a fraction.

JJ laughed all the way to the door.

As soon as it clicked shut, the air in the room shifted. Rafe was immediately on his feet, hoodie pushed back, pacing the carpet like he needed to walk off steam.

“I hate that kid.”

His voice was sharp—cutting through the quiet of the apartment like it had been sitting on the tip of his tongue all night, just waiting to be said. She turned around slowly, arms crossed, trying (and failing) not to look entertained.

“You don’t even know him,” she said, eyebrow raised.

“I know enough,” Rafe shot back, jaw tight. “He’s smug. He talks too much. He walks around like he’s the main character. And—” his voice dipped, like the words tasted sour coming out, “—he made you laugh.”

That caught her off guard. She blinked. “Wait. That’s what you’re mad about? That I laughed?”

“I’m mad that he thought he could make you laugh.” Rafe’s brows furrowed, expression stormy. “He kept looking at you like… like he was waiting for a chance. Like you were available.”

She stared at him, almost breathless from how serious he sounded.

“He looked at me for five seconds, Rafe.”

“Yeah. Too long,” he snapped, stepping away like even standing still was impossible. His hands ran through his hair, the fabric of his hoodie shifting with the movement. “It’s the way he looked at you. Like he didn’t care that I was in the room. Like I didn’t matter.”

She softened instantly.

Rafe Cameron wasn’t afraid of much—not fists, not consequences, not the kind of power people whispered about behind his back. But the idea of someone else making her laugh? Stealing even a fraction of her attention?

It rattled him.

She crossed the space between them quietly, her bare feet padding against the hardwood. She pressed her palms to his chest, felt the heat of his skin through the thin cotton. His heart was pounding like he’d just run a mile.

“Baby,” she whispered, looking up at him. “Are you seriously jealous right now?”

Rafe’s arms slid around her waist like muscle memory, like his body had been waiting for her touch. He pulled her close without a second of hesitation, his hands splaying across her lower back, grounding himself.

“No. Yes. I don’t know,” he muttered. “I just don’t like guys like him. The ones who don’t care if you’re taken. Who think they can just swoop in and… and win you over. Like you’re some girl they can impress and walk away with.”

Her heart cracked open at the sheer frustration in his voice. He wasn’t mad at JJ. Not really. He was mad at himself—for not being able to control how much he cared.

She reached up, fingers brushing along his jawline, gentle and slow. “I love you,” she said, soft as air. “I’m not going anywhere, Rafe. You know that, right?”

He leaned down, forehead resting against hers like he needed to feel her skin to believe her. His breath was warm against her lips.

“I know,” he whispered, but his voice was raw. “I know. But I still wanted to deck him when he winked at you.”

She laughed then, unable to hold it back. She kissed his cheek, lingering there.

“You’re cute when you’re psycho.”

“I’m not psycho,” Rafe grumbled, his nose brushing along her temple as he held her tighter. “I’m just… territorial.”

She pulled back slightly, smirking. “That’s just a fancy way of saying clingy.”

He shrugged without shame. “Fine. I am clingy.” His lips ghosted along her neck as he whispered, “You’re mine.”

Her stomach fluttered. That possessiveness—the way he said it like a vow, not a claim—set her heart racing.

They stood tangled together, his arms firm around her waist, hers looped around his shoulders, swaying gently in the quiet. The tension had melted into something sweeter. Softer. He needed her close. Not just physically—emotionally. Desperately.

She nudged her nose against his. “Come to bed?”

⸻

Later, curled under the covers in the soft hum of the dark, Rafe had one arm draped possessively around her waist, the other hand playing with her fingers beneath the blankets. His chest was pressed against her back, his chin tucked in the crook of her shoulder like he was guarding her even in sleep.

She was almost out when she murmured, “Still thinking about JJ?”

“Absolutely not,” Rafe mumbled, muffled against her hair. “He’s dead to me.”

She snorted, reaching back to pat his thigh. “You’re such a baby.”

“I’m your baby,” he said without hesitation.

She giggled, poking at his side under the blanket. “My pouty, overprotective, jealous little baby.”

He made a grumbling sound, rolling her gently onto her back so he could half-climb over her, his face buried in the curve of her neck, his leg hooked around hers like he needed every point of contact possible.

“Say it again,” he whispered kissing her neck softly.

“What?”

“That I’m yours.”

She smiled, her chest blooming warm. She ran her fingers through his hair and pressed a kiss to his temple.

“You’re mine, Rafe Cameron.”

He exhaled like he’d been holding his breath all night.

“Damn right I am,” he murmured, voice low and reverent. Then, softer—like a promise meant only for her—

“And you’re mine.”

[mygnolia]

FALLING FOR MY MC! ౨ৎ y. jungwon

୨୧ -› where a music bank mc and leader of the hottest k-pop group meet and fall in love (again)

pair -› idol!yang jungwon x radio/podcast host!!reader | trope -› childhood friends to lovers | wc -› 1.9k | REN SAYS.. i thought this idea was cute when someone requested fanboy won + weekly idol mc reader (i never watch weekly idol so have music bank instead..) and im scared of writing idol x fangirl entirely so have this spinoff! | library

- you and jungwon have been friends for a while even before he went on i-land

- he’s always been into performing, singing, and especially dancing

- sometimes you’d stay behind at school and watch him do taekwondo + dancing

- and while he was student body president, you were the president of broadcasting too!

- you loved to talk to others and be in front of a camera and also wanted to make your own padcast, but never really knew how

- so you two were definitely in communication because of your positions!

- and… drum roll please… jungwon gets a little crush on you

- let’s just say he started thinking about you whenever you started morning broadcast for the school… or when you announced his name and his plans as student body president he went all blush-y

- he thought you were super cool and loved how effortless you were in front of everyone

- like time slows down when he looks at you, his eyes go glittery everyone else disappears..

- HES WHIPPED I FEAR!!!

more under the cut :3

- you two hung out a lot afterschool and sometimes at each others houses, but you also had other friends- friends who would also become idols!!

- you’re friends with chaewon and ningning hehe

- so now that highschools kind of ending, a lot of your friends started seriously pursuing music and the idol life, but you were never quite as devoted as they were

- and unfortunately by senior year, jungwon left for i-land :(

- you tried to be close but they didn’t allow outside communication and summer left you extremely busy

- and you were really sad that you couldn’t hang out with jungwon as much, but you still had other friends and were close to many from your school because of how big your journalism class was (aka where you did your broadcasting duties)

- but watching iland was your pasttime!! you voted jungwon EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. because you knew how much work went into his skills

- and who even cares if it was biased everyone was biased in their voting

- and you loved the drama and all his other members (but god it was heartbreaking and when jungwon stood on that second to elimination stage you cried)

- when enhypen debuted, you stayed a fan not just because of jungwon, but because of his interactions and their music

- enhypen was popular from the get-go because of iland, and you paid attention to their comebacks and texted jungwon every so often

- you two weren’t able to meet because of his busy tour schedule and back to back combacks (FREE MY BOYS)

- but you always supported them wherever whenever, and even trying to get concert tickets to attend whenever they were in your area

- plus you were still a broke college student and busy with your own interests

- but it didn’t stop you from consuming their content

- and if something happened you’d text jungwon, not really expecting a text back since he was so busy, but he’d always try to respond

- “omg not your cactus dying???” and he’d respond with some laughing

- “maeumi is so big now i saw her on your live on your arm” “STOP IT WAS SO EMBARRASSING”

- little things here and there

- and maybe yes… you were a little fangirl…

- ALBUM PULLS WERE HALF JUNGWON SOME SUNOO SOME HEESEUNG BTW!!! you were eating up your pc album

- and you’d always compliment him after a comeback or a show you went to

- “ahh! tamed-dashed is so good i think my fav song from your album is just a little bit! make sure you rest so your pictures turn out cute :)”

- OK BUT THE MOMENT YOU TRULY FELL FOR HIM like actually a ‘wtf omg why is yang jungwon so HOT why do i have a MASSIVE CRUSH ON HIM (again)”

- was…drum roll…l’officiel jungwon with only the blazer and then dicon tw-en-ty years jungwon with the cherry photoshoot (not projecting LOL haha…)

- yeah you were whipped

- but ofc you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, trying to keep your comments supportive more than fangirl-y

- you and jungwon finally have time to catch up when he’s back home for a bit, and he texts you more often since you were still somewhat busy with school

- and you two reminisce on how he wanted to be an idol pre-iland and how you love to talk on the radio which he’s listened to a few times!!! (yapper y/n agenda!!!)

- and you still loved to do broadcasting even in university

- you were on a few broadcast groups and was a temporary university podcast host for studying encouragement and you shared your struggles as an incoming upperclassman

- many people listened for the tips and fun story submissions to listen to while studying!

- and you’d look for jobs and hoped to find a larger podcast or station

- so much so that you auditioned and reached out to a popular radio show host about love and dating advice called ’Let’s Find You Love!’

- and your station was SUPER popular considering how sweet and sincere your advice was

- you were honest with viewers in toxic relationships and also got popular online

- special valentines day episode! you and your host shared stories about YOUR first crush and love experiences

- your host shared some bad relationships and what not to do! but you…?? you had a crush on yang jungwon. still. ofc he looked good!!!

- “to be honest, there was this boy in highschool who i liked, and i wish i got to ask him out, honestly. he was super sweet every time we talked, and he was always so hardworking.” and with the way you said it, the people who knew you from school couldn’t deduce if it was someone close to you or someone who you pined over from a distance

- agh the mystery!! everyone is hooked on your cute story, telling you to admit your crush to him!

- BUT HELLO?? ITS LEADER OF ENHYPEN JUNGWON YOU CANT DO THAT!!!

- tiktok frl went ‘damn i want someone to talk about me the way y/n from lets find u love talked about her crush’

- but it became a HUGE hit

- so much so that music bank reached out and WOAHHH

- they want you?? as??? an??? mc????

- usually they would pick idols, but the idol that did their music bank performance had an injury, and you were doing it alone since music bank didn’t want to start rumors!

- and woah.. enhypen new comback had you on your KNEES

- plus listening to jungwon is always so satisfying, especially to see him grow and explore different concepts and looks, you were not only loving the face cards being served but also his energy and love for his fans!!

- so yeah, safe to say your feelings for him were still there..

- but then they perform on music bank for xo, and you’re…THERE???

- jungwon’s looking at you, who’s looking super pretty as you rehearse your lines and the stylists are adding to your look before the show

- and he turns to his members like dude.

- and all of them are confused like ?? “jungwon what’s wrong..”

- “DUDE MY CHILDHOOD FRIEND IS HERE AS THE MC AND SHE’S SO PRETTY”

- thankfully camera crew was on break..but when they were back

- yeah fans were defo in their comments like “woah why is jungwonnie so nervous??” literally who’s gonna tell them the girl he hasn’t seen in like 6 years is in front of him pretty like how he remembers??

- and you kind of wanted to surprise jungwon by not telling him, but you also never had the time to speak up with all the media training you needed

- everyone was excited for you to be mc! it was a change of pace but a fun one for the audience

- welp it’s go time!!

- “hello everyone!! woah.. is it time for..my dating advice segment? nono! i’m here as…” you pretend to open a letter and look around “music bank’s emcee?? wow, such an honor!!” and ofc you turn on the dramatics to act

- and what group to walk in but enhypen…

- jungwon smiles IMMEDIATELY. fans analyzed this whole video

- ‘dude jungwon is WHIPPED for that mc’ ‘jungwon when he meets the pretty mc” “so we’re all seeing jungwon check out the girl on music bank or…”

- you had your own little script related to their new concept, asking a few questions and then moving onto a member specific question

- “jungwonnie! i noticed you wrote the part for hundred broken hearts! can we have you sing it?”

- THING IS…who says ‘jungwonnie’ so freely?? if you guys never met?? yeah speculation was running a little out of hand fr!

Jungwon shakes his head, dimples reappearing as he takes another look at you and nods. He sings his written part into the mic, and unknowingly, you smile too. “Ah- sorry, I’m too nervous to be singing it well.” And you scoff at him, looking around at his members. “He did it great, don’t you agree, Jake? Your voice is like an angel.” You call out to Jake, who originally sings that part.

Jake tells you, “Agh, he might steal my fans if he decides to sing that part live” and you laugh, eyes crinkling as you smile at Jake’s response to move onto the next question.

- and jungwon in that moment remembers why he liked you

- your laugh, your smile, your easy-going nature, and how much you had chased for your passions over the years

- and he’s just super super proud of you for where you are now, being a literal mc

- and he knows you love doing it

- after a bit more talking they went to perform and you went back!

- he’s super nervous after their performance and the members tease him for his little crush saying how he’d get a girlfriend before all of them

- oh yeah engenes were raving abt u

- “jungwonie’ and he doesn’t even look uncomfortable they must be friends”

- it takes a few internet detectives to figure out that it’s him who used to go to school with you and it’s him who you had a huge crush on woahhh

- and then jungwon found out.

- “y/n!! look at this tiktok lolol” “jungwon why is it titled ‘y/nwon confirmed with evidence’”“it’s funny >.<“

- ur freaking out like crazy

- cuz wdym jungwon SAW IT AND FOUND IT FUNNY

- so you’re like “haha yeah so funny…anyways wyd if it’s true.”

- and he’s like freaking out on his end like omfg is it true omg does she know “idk walk over and cuddle and kiss” HE BOLD!!

- anyways ygs do just that!! sooo cute and you two are very very secretive

- until…drum roll pls..one year after the initial valentines day episode on your podcast aka 7 months after you started dating jungwon

- and he’s waiting in your living room with all of your gifts but you have no idea since you’re recording live in your studio

- “for this valentines day episode i had people submit some cute love stories! and yes i will share one of my own”

- and you read all of them and laugh at the cute stories about love because yes love we love love!

- “the moment you were waiting for! so, little one year update, but i listened to you all and the boy i liked in highschool is now my boyfriend and we’ve been together 7 months!”

- yeah the internet freaked out

- because the timeline from xo comeback to valentines day makes sense for the engenes who knew

- but ygs are so cute so who’s complaining

reblogs + interactions are always appreciated :)

[yuh13lo]

𖤐 Just a game C.S.

If you ask anyone on the Boston University campus who Chris Sturniolo is, you won’t get just one answer.

“Hockey captain.”

“Frat boy heartbreaker.”

“Hot, cocky, but somehow charming.”

“The guy who ruined the curve in Business Ethics but still brought tequila to the final.”

Chris Sturniolo had it all—athleticism, confidence, the best parties at Alpha Epsilon, and a magnetic smile that made professors forgive him and girls fall a little too fast. He wasn’t mean, per se, but he didn’t exactly linger after breaking hearts either.

But if Chris was the storm, y/n Monroe was the calm that followed.

Everyone knew y/n. Honors student, lit club president, she tutored for free in the library and always wore sweaters that smelled like lavender. Professors adored her. Girls respected her. Guys secretly wanted her, but most wouldn’t dare.

She was the girl you protected. The kind who made you feel like you were enough just by looking at you kindly across the quad.

And she had never, not once, been seen near Alpha Epsilon.

It started one chilly October night, two months into the fall semester. The hockey team had just won a gritty match against their rival, and the post-game celebration had spiraled into a full-blown frat rager.

The music pulsed like a second heartbeat in the Alpha Epsilon living room, and Chris sat on the arm of a couch in his usual relaxed posture—hat backward, hoodie slung low, red Solo cup in hand. His teammates filled the space, beers clinking and laughter thick in the air.

“I’m just saying,” Jaxon began, already a little buzzed and full of bravado, “there are girls, and then there’s y/n Monroe.”

Chris raised an eyebrow. “What about her?”

“She’s like… unicorn-level. Untouchable,” someone else chimed in.

“Not even you could get her,” Jaxon challenged, grinning like he just cracked the code to the Matrix. “Sweetheart of the campus? Come on. She’d never go for a guy like you.”

That pulled Chris’s attention. “A guy like me?”

“You know what I mean.” Jaxon leaned forward. “You’re fun, sure. Hot, obviously. But she’s pure. Bookstores and coffee shops and homemade candles. You’re beer pong and shotgunning and ghosting girls before brunch.”

The room ooh’d like it was a roast battle.

Chris smiled. “So you’re saying I couldn’t get her to fall for me.”

“I’m saying you won’t even get close.”

Silence.

Then, slowly, Chris stood, running a hand through his dark curls. “What are we betting?”

“The next party’s named after you. Full send—‘Sturniolo Bash.’ Keg’s on us. Plus, you get out of pledge interviews for a month.”

“And if I lose?”

“You clean the house bathrooms every Sunday. With a toothbrush. For two months.”

The room erupted.

Chris leaned forward and grinned. “Bet.”

It started the next Monday.

He waited near the library, timing it to the minute. He knew she always left her afternoon tutoring shift at 4:00 sharp. When she appeared, backpack slung and cheeks flushed from the cold, he stepped into stride beside her.

he said smoothly. “You’re y/n, right?”

She glanced at him, confused but polite. “I am. You’re Chris?”

“Guilty. I’ve seen you around. You helped my friend Mason pass his stats class last semester.”

“Oh, Mason! He was so nice. He brought me cookies after finals.” She smiled warmly. “What’s up?”

“Well,” he said, scratching the back of his neck like he was nervous—he wasn’t, but he could act when it counted—“I’m dying in my writing class. I heard you were the go-to tutor.”

She tilted her head. “Writing? Aren’t you a business major?”

“Yeah, but apparently Dr. Edwards thinks we need to ‘express ourselves clearly’ or whatever.” He chuckled.

Y/n laughed lightly, the kind of laugh that made Chris take a mental snapshot. “Sure, I can help. What’s the assignment?”

And just like that, she was in.

What started as “tutoring” once a week turned into coffee before their sessions. Then walks to the quad. Then texts.

He found himself crafting every word like he was playing chess with her emotions. He asked about her favorite books, about her childhood dog, about why she loved poetry. He pretended to be more interested in Hemingway than he actually was, even bought a thrifted copy of The Sun Also Rises just to underline things and pretend he’d read it.

But somewhere between December and January, something shifted.

They were sitting in her dorm lounge, their laptops forgotten as she read him a paragraph from her own short story.

“I don’t usually share my writing,” she said, voice quiet.

“Why not? You’re amazing.”

She blushed. “It’s just personal, I guess.”

Chris was quiet for a beat. For once, no charm. No joke.

“I like that you trust me with it.”

And the way she looked at him in that moment—it wasn’t just the moonlight through the windows. It was hope.

And that terrified him.

By early February, Chris wasn’t even thinking about the bet anymore. He’d stopped going out on weekends if y/n had an early morning study session. He started turning in essays on time. He even turned down a blonde sophomore who literally climbed onto his lap at a house party.

But the party was coming—the one that had started it all. The big Alpha Epsilon winter throwdown. And Chris, like an idiot, invited y/n.

“You’ll come, right? Just one night. I’ll stay by your side the whole time. I promise.”

She hesitated. “You know I don’t do parties.”

“I know. But… this one’s different. I want you there.”

He meant it. But he didn’t know what it would cost.

Friday night came fast.

The house was packed. Lights dim, music loud, drinks flowing. Chris kept his hand gently on y/n’s back as he introduced her to his friends—half of whom were too stunned she actually existed outside of textbooks.

Y/n laughed nervously, accepted a slice of pizza and a soda from him, and leaned in close to speak over the music. “This isn’t so bad.”

Chris smiled. “Told you.”

She got up to grab napkins and another soda.

And then it happened.

She came back, unnoticed, as Chris’s friends stood near the beer pong table, already halfway through their third game.

“She’s here, bro!” Jaxon laughed, throwing his hands up. “I actually can’t believe you pulled it off. Y/n-freaking-Monroe. You won the bet.”

Chris froze.

“Dude’s a legend,” another teammate said, raising a cup. “I mean, we knew he’d get her, but she actually likes him. It’s hilarious.”

Then someone added—laughing—“And she has no idea, right? Damn. Cold, Sturniolo.”

Y/n stopped in the doorway.

The soda fell from her hand. It hit the floor with a soft splat.

The laughter stopped.

Chris turned. His eyes locked with hers.

Her face was pale, like the blood had drained from her soul.

“Y/n—” he said, stepping forward.

But she was already walking away.

Not running. Just walking, as if the weight of it all had snapped something inside her.

[starkeyisthelastname]

okay but i need a part two of frat boy rafe, who takes interest in the reader, convinced her to go on a date and it ends with a round two

When Rafe Cameron had asked you on a date, you had automatically assumed that it was a joke. Casual sex was one thing. A date was a whole different ballgame, especially for someone like him. You didn’t exactly know why he had asked you out, always hearing around campus that he never was in a committed relationship. Literally using girls as a something to get his cock warm.

Just like the first time though, you had a hard time saying no. It was insane the amount of charisma this man had over a damn text or maybe it was your wishful thinking about getting dicked down again. Whatever it was, you found yourself now sitting across from him as you looked over the menu at the expensive restaurant.

He looked good. Light blue polo that was snug against his broad upper body, hair gelled to perfection and that cocky smirk on his lips as you looked up at him after setting your menu down.

“So.. what made you ask me out on a date?” Your voice causal as you asked the burning question on your mind.

Sitting down his drink, he looked at you. He couldn’t pin point exactly why he wanted more from you other than your amazing pussy. You truly were striking to look at, but there was something else there that he wanted to know more about. He hadn’t ever been in a serious relationship, at least not one that meant anything. Maybe it was time to explore that option. However, that pussy was definitely his tonight.

“I really don’t like getting into all that sappy shit, but I don’t know..” He said, glancing over to the setting sun that made his blue eyes stand out. “There’s something about you that is different and I like that.” He said, eyes focusing back on you.

Something about hearing those words from frat president himself, the same one that never gave any girl more than one night, had you feeling butterflies. That is exactly why you found yourself a few hours later with that same monstrous dick inside you once again.

“Shit.. tightest fucking pussy I’ve ever been in.” Rafe groaned, all nine inches sliding into your hole, this time from behind. He relished the feeling of your pretty cunt wrapping around him and how good you fucking looked bent over.

You had of course remembered how big Rafe was, but nothing prepared you for the new angle. You immediately felt him hit your sweet spot, letting out a moan as you buried your face into the duvet. “Oh fuck..” You mumbled, arching your back more as he began to move his sculpted hips.

A heavy hand slapped your jiggling ass cheek as it moved with each thrust as the tall boy began to move faster, one of his knees coming to rest on the mattress to get a deeper angle. “You like that big dick.. Huh?” His voice raspy, an underlying nasal tone making it sound even hotter to you.

You were sweet by nature and always a little naive. Somewhere you knew that Rafe Cameron was bad news on the other hand you wondered if he was serious about not wanting you to just be another one of his throw away girls. The thought of him putting his magical dick in any other girl made you jealous. You had to have him as yours.

“I love it..” You whimpered. “Need it forever.”

Rafe had heard many girls tell him how they needed his dick forever. He usually would ignore them or bring his hand to their necks to shut them the fuck up. Hearing you say that made the blood rush straight to his balls, making him want to nut right then and there.

“Oh baby.. What are you doing to me? Gonna make me put a fucking ring on you and shit. Maybe have my baby. Gonna take you to meet my family after this.. I swear.” He rambled, falling hard and fast for the girl who was so sweet.

[epiicaricacy-arts]

hello manosouta/saintknight enjoyers. i bring you this: married in red AU

for those unfamiliar with married in red, it’s a short thriller RPG by studio investigrave (other games by them are elevator hitch and dead plate). the game is free as are all their other games and i highly recommend it!!

SPOILERS FOR MARRIED IN RED AND AAI2 UNDER THE CUT

unlike my sunjiao dead plate au i don’t have that solid of a story for this, mostly because i haven’t had the chance to replay the 2nd and 5th cases after finishing the game to fully grasp and contextualize their dynamic, so i will probably be able to elaborate on this more after doing that AND possibly replaying married in red.

i had a few routes for this to go down which i’ll talk about below.

the basic premise is that simeon is attending bronco’s wedding (to some unknown figure cause i couldn’t figure out anyone that could generally fit the role i needed so you can imagine whatever you want).

in this story, simeon and bronco were still childhood best friends, but after nearly freezing to death in the locked car, simeon ended up hospitalized and rather weak for most of his life with high susceptibility to illness. bronco promised he would always visit simeon whenever he was sick or in the hospital, but simeon never felt that bronco truly made up for his actions that day.

the whole thing with the president and the double doesn’t really happen i guess? the focus is what happened during their childhood but artie’s still gotta die unfortunately 🤷‍♀️

under the impression that carmelo was bronco’s father and killed frost, simeon made sure that bronco would also have to face the loss of a loved one and sabotaged his wedding. bronco would’ve wanted simeon to be his best man, but ultimately decided not to put him in that position due to his health. unlike in MIR i think simeon had to have been invited but just as a guest.

here’s where i came up with multiple versions of the story. you can choose whatever seems to make most sense or whatever you like more 🤷‍♀️

the first is just following the events of MIR. simeon kills the person bronco intended to marry, frames bronco for the murder, and gets him arrested for revenge, promising that he’ll visit bronco every day in prison!!!

the second involved a bit more manipulation on simeon’s part. although i’m not sure how much he could really pull this off but who knows that guy did some whacky shit. in this version, simeon informs bronco that something dangerous is going to occur at the event: someone there is a threat, and bronco, as the bodyguard he is, needs to neutralize it. simeon then tries to frame it so that bronco’s fiance was the threat and his pride in his profession took priority over his fiance and killed them.

i think the second one is more interesting but i’m not as confident in its plausibility for these characters but 🤷‍♀️ i would love to hear people’s thoughts if they have any :]

anyways, making these AUs with SIG games is such a blast, especially editing the screenshots and writing text. maybe i’ll make more for either the dead plate or MIR AU’s at some point but that’s a later me thought

simeon having a similar hairstyle to frost was on purpose btw. also god i hated drawing bronco’s hair wtf is going on with that guy 😔

thank you for reading !!!!

[amoreva]

PARAMOUR

—– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–

pairing: college!luke castellan x fem!reader

summary: three times luke was there for you instead of your current boyfriend and the last time you let your boyfriend treat you like shit

warnings: cursing, jealous, bad bf behavior, unsolicited actions, boxing, bad bf gets shit rocked, cheating, alluding of reader cheating (they aren’t), kissing, fluff

a/n: wanted to take a break from requests and ffy to write this, still debating on rewriting feigning for ya’

—– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–

I. TIME MANAGEMENT & SUPPORT

You knew dating the president of a fraternity would render him busy, most of the time. More often than not you’d get texts of excuses your boyfriend, Nate McCormick, explaining why he couldn’t make it to events and shows you planned.

It was a given and you didn’t want to blame Nate for his lack of presence. Being a fraternity president was time consuming with fundraisers and parties and…other things. You weren’t too involved in Greek life.

Even the off chance Nate did show up, he never showed out. Sure, he’s a little tired from planning events and he tells you he’s proud, but he never stays for long, not really caring.

It was like your things were a bother to him, but when you didn’t show up to one frat event—he’d get all pissy.

Luke was on speed dial for this exact reason.

For example, the students in the business course had a mock competition with each other to prepare for future competitions. Your group earned third place amongst twenty-five other groups.

The professors held an award ceremony with trophies and certificates. Nate met you after the ceremony and gave you a side hug.

“Hey, baby—you did good! It’s good.” He didn’t get the event to well. A call pulled him away, eventually causing him to leave the event entirely. He seemed almost happy.

You watched his shoulders sag in relief as he walked away with some quick excuse. You thought him whisper into his phone “perfect timing, dude.”

And now, you stood alone; staring at your boyfriend’s text.

Loml<3

Had to go, some fuckwads fucked everything up.

3m ago

Busy.

Always goddamn busy when your things came up.

You weren’t alone for long, thankfully, when Luke walked over; away from his conversation with Silena and Clarisse (it was like he was waiting for the perfect moment to talk to you).

You invited Luke to the ceremony and he showed out (at least someone did). He presented you a small bouquet for your achievement despite his protests on your group receiving third instead of first.

“Listen!” Luke held up a red solo cup during the after party. No one listened, too busy dancing and getting drunks from their accomplishments.

“What are you doing?” You hid a laugh behind your hand, trying to get him to back down from his toast.

“No, no—I must!” Luke smirked. Your small group of friends paying attention. “You should’ve won first and you will win first at nationals! I, for one, am very proud!”

His chocolate brown curls bounced back as he finished off whatever was swirling in the red solo cup. Clarisse, Silena, Chris and you raise your cups and copied his movements.

A small blush rose to your neck and cheeks (because of the alcohol, mhm). You smiled at Luke. “We will win first and I’ll dedicate the win to you.” You joked.

“You better!” Luke ruffled your hair.

Ding!

Loml<3

Otw home, goodnight baby

See you tomorrow, champ

Now

You ignored the texts as you celebrated with Luke’s arm wrapped around your shoulder, singing “Party Rock Anthem” by LMFAO with Clarisse and Silena, and celebrating a mock completion. You didn’t want support later, it was better in the moment.

II. ADVANTAGE

“Listen, baby—this doesn’t concern. It’s—it’s frat stuff.” Nate gave you a small smile and squeezed your thigh under the table. The guy was engrossed in a conversation with his friends. It was like he was on a date with his friends.

You wouldn’t be surprised.

“Just sit there and look pretty, alright?”

That hit an already tight nerve.

You see—when Nate invited you out to dinner, you idiotically thought that it would just be you and him.

Y’know, to make up for the times he’s bailed out of your school events—or left you stranded at dinner dates (which meant you had to pay for both of your dinners). But, hey! You didn’t mind Nate’s friends joining you for dinner.

Nope. Not at all.

And all this shit kept building and building up. Honestly, when was he ever going to really make it up to you.

You picked at the salad he ordered you—when everything blew up. His hand inched higher and higher on your thigh, beneath your denim skirt. The nerve of him.

Nate and his friends were startled when you stood up, slamming your utensils on the table and gave them a curt excuse to use the bathroom.

So, here you were, leaning against the black marble sink, calling Luke to bail you out of here. He was on speed dial. The lavender incense soothed your frustration.

“Hey, what’s up?” He picked up after two rings. His voice slightly raspy, but it was smooth like a vinyl record.

“Are you busy?”

“Kinda—I’m out with Chris and the Stoll brothers right now.”

“Okay then, nevermind—”

“No—no! Do you need something? What is it?”

“It’s fine, I can call Clarisse instead—”

“Y/N. Are you okay?”

You took a deep breath. It felt like too much to ask for him to come pick you up when he was hanging out with friends.

“Are you okay?” You paused, weighing your decisions silently. Go back to Nate with him getting handsy in front of his friends or go back to your dorm and sleep in comfortable clothes. The latter felt like the better option.

“Can you come pick me up? I do not want to be here right now.”

“Yeah—yeah, I’ll be there soon.”

The line disconnects and you send Luke your location. Nate was too preoccupied with his friends to notice you leaving the restaurant, not so discreetly (you ran into a waiter). Yet, you somehow made it to Luke’s car.

“Are you okay?” He asked. His eyebrows knit with concern as his fingers drum against the steering wheel.

“Just drive—drive, drive!”

Luke almost hit another car listening to your urgent commands. The honking horns from the car behind you stopped eventually, after the driver flipped you off and shouted a spew of curse words. Luke and you look at each other. A pause of silence, before you burst out in giggles and laughs.

“Icecream?”

“Icecream.”

Nate<3

Venmo me $10 for the salad

10:29 pm

Absolutely fucking not.

III. JEALOUSY

So, your boyfriend apparently did have eyes. Not for the effort you put into your appearance or your appreciation for him, but in other men.

Not in a romantic way, but in a jealous way.

Yeah, yeah.

He hardly paid attention to you and even if he did—he always wanted something. Sex, money, the list goes on and on. You’re sure, as of late, he could give a rat’s ass where you’ve been.

Yet, when Nate showed up, unannounced, while you were having a movie night with the girls and Luke (he begged to do face masks with everyone) jealousy was the most prominent thing on his face and not those hideous eyebrows.

You remembered predicting his thoughts. “Why is she hanging out with another guy?” “Bastard wants my girl?” “I’m the only guy she needs.”

So, this is how you found yourself in an off-campus gym with Silena because Nate had to prove he was better than your best friend.

Interrupting girls night.

Nate slipped on boxing gloves whilst Luke leaning against the ropes. Your boyfriend has never boxed before, but he could fight. Your cheeks pink with embarrassment. It was stupid—this was stupid. You are not doing anything romantic with Luke.

Nate should’ve tried to give more a shit in the relationship if he didn’t want you hanging out with your best friend all the time.

“Baby, can you do this?” Nate pouted and displayed the velcro strap on his boxer.

You sucked it up and strapped the Velcro strip. Nate looked at you like he was expecting something else. A good luck kiss.

With the shit he’s pulling. No.

“His fragile masculinity is bruised.” Silena commented quietly, hiding a giggle behind her hand.

“It’s stupid.” You mumbled irritated. Silena and you found some vacant chairs to sit in. “He has to drag me here when he knows I have plans. I’m sorry we can’t go to the flea market now—”

“It’s okay.” Silena reassured quickly. “I’ve been waiting for your boyfriend to realize he’s an idiot.”

(Spoiler alert. He will never)

Nate was really insistent on no head gear. It had something to do with messing up his hair. A gym employee was refereeing the match. He blew the small silver whistle for it to start.

Nate spewing phrases similar to “you think you can just take my girl?” or “she wants me, bro.” Shit like that. Silena watch you hide behind your purse in embarrassment, because what the fuck?!

Neither guys wanted to throw the first punch, that was until Luke mentioned where his gloves were positioned.

“Hey man, you really should keep your arms up near your head.” A helpful tip.

Then—then Nate threw the first punch.

“You keep your arms up!” Nate mocked in a baby voice.

It was sloppy, had no form, and swung in anger. You observed as Luke dodged it with ease; isolating his torso in a way that it felt like a dance.

Compared to Luke, Nate kept his hands guarding his chest. He’s shifting weight foot to foot, breathing like a bull who saw red. Your boyfriend threw another punch, aiming for Luke’s face. Luke responded with protecting his face—taking the brute of the attack on his forearms.

Luke’s body moved fluidly like water when he retailed with his own punch. He isn’t swinging recklessly like Nate did. His movements are processed. Outputting a certain ton of his strength.

The tips of your ears heat up, turning pink underneath your hair. You’ll admit, your eyes are following Luke the whole time.

Since when did Luke box?

Luke is steady on his feet, keeping a rhythm with his punches. Nate could barely block them, getting hit a few times. You watch his torso shift to dodge and advance. The black compression shirt Luke wore was doing things—like the fabric was made to twist with his body.

You’re taken out of your stupor as you watch the bright red boxing glove collide with Nate’s cheek. Your boyfriend was thrown off his balance and landed on his ass. You winced knowing it stung despite the padding. The whistle blew, calling quits to the the match. Luke won.

“No harm, no foul. You okay?” Luke asked, silently giving the “I told you so” look about protecting his head. The curly haired boxer took off a glove to offer a hand an help Nate up.

Nate didn’t take it. In a millisecond, you watched your boyfriend throw his whole body weight into the punch.

The punch colliding with his face, hitting Luke’s eye, nose and cheek at the same time.

“What the fuck, Nate!?” You shouted in disbelief, standing up to enter the ring.

The employee blowed his whistle again, pointing Nate towards the doors. “Bitch.” Nate spat and you pushed him. He was out of his mind, but he looked at you like you were the crazy one.

“What the hell, babe!?”

“The fight was over. That was uncalled for!” You told your boyfriend firmly as he was getting pulled out of the ring and kicked out.

“Why are you defending him?” Nate scoffed and held onto the ropes just to argue. “I got hit too! I got hit and you’re defending this dickwad?”

“You hit him when he was trying to help you!” You argued and left the ring to make him see his wrongful actions.

“He mocked me—hurt my face and you only care for him.” Nate accused. “What? Are you sucking his dick?”

The fact he mentioned something so lewd and outlandish had steam blowing out of your ears. “Cool off, Nate. Control that fucking temper.” You demanded. “You know I would never cheat.”

“You’re with him all the time, babe! I wouldn’t be surprised.” He was actively being pushed out by employees. “I’m your boyfriend! I’m your fucking boyfriend!”

“Sure, don’t act like it.” You grumbled.

The bell on the door rung. Nate was kicked out. You swiveled on your heels and found Luke nursing a bloody nose. Silena handed him her some paper towels.

Apologies were on the tip of your tongue waiting to come out. Luke watched your face go from frustration to guilt. “Don’t worry.” Luke reassured with a grin. There was blood in his teeth. His left eye was tearing up due to the contact of the boxing glove.

“Luke, that wasn’t right for Nate to do.” You mumbled and crossed your arms.

“No.” You could hear the ‘but’ in his tone. “But, it was partly my fault. I was riling him up.”

“By telling him to protect his head?”

“Yeah. Men like him hate being told what to do, but I was concerned for his safety. Honest!”

Silena deadpanned and grabbed her purse and yours. “Green is not a good color on your boyfriend.” Silena mentioned and you sighed.

Luke grabbed your hand, squeezing it to get your attention. He still had that charming smile you’ve grown to love. “Besides, he hit like a girl. He just got lucky and popped a blood vessel.”

IV. THE FINAL STRAW

Out of sight, out of mind.

The quote from Euphoria resonated with you well. It was ironic you were dating a Nate too.

Your boyfriend and you were playing hopscotch on the line of a messy breakup. Lately, arguments were the only thing happening when you saw him. You wanted him to apologize for the accusations he made. His ego too big for him to stoop down to that level.

So, the girls and Luke took you out partying to distract you from relationship troubles. Luke insisted and begged that you let him come because he had nothing to do. It was a lie.

He just liked hanging out with Silena, you, Clarisse and Thalia because of the vibes.

You could feel the bass of the music in your chest when you and the others walk up to the house. Pretty much, you’re thrown into dancing, drinking and games.

Nate is the furthest thing from your mind.

It’s an Alpha Ki party, which meant no Nate tonight or at least that’s what you thought.

You were dancing with Clarisse. The body heat in the room making a thin layer of sweat gloss over your skin. Alcohol buzzed in your veins. It made you feel good, but now you were thirsty.

You had a clear enough head to decided water for your next drink instead of your usual alcohol. “I’m going to get water!” You yelled at Clarisse over the loud music and wormed your way through the crowd.

Digging through the cooler, beneath the beer bottles, cans and chunks of ice, you found your treasure. You’ve never been more relieved to feel and drink cold water.

You took a break to drink your water before leaving the kitchen to join Clarisse again when you saw him.

He was in your sight, which meant he was in your mind.

The worse thing about it was he was shoving his tongue down another girl’s throat, grabbing her ass. What was he even doing at another frat party when he was supposed to be monitoring his own?

Angry, heartbreak and devastation consumed your beating heart. After everything…everything—you did for Nate. From being a supportive girlfriend to dressing up more for him to paying for his dinners to reassuring him about his frat events to—everything, everything you did. All the one sided bullshit you did blew up.

Your body moved without a second thought. Hands moving to unscrew the water bottle cap and suddenly, Nate was soaked (you tried to avoid the girl as much as possible). His clothes wet. So weird, wow.

“You bitch!” Nate exclaimed in irritation, shaking his hands of water droplets. He looked at you like you killed his mom.

You shook your head. He didn’t get to be angry—he cheated, not you. “You are a cheating fuckwad, Nate!” Putting it into words he understood.

“You’re paying for my clothes. You ruined them!” Nate stepped closer to you, pushing the girl he was making out with aside.

“Start paying for your own shit! I’m not your mom, I was your girlfriend” You threw the empty water bottle at him and stormed out of the party.

Your heart was being squeezed so tightly you couldn’t breathe. Tears stinging your eyes, no doubt ruining your mascara.

It’s stupid. You shouldn’t be crying over your, now, ex-boyfriend. He treated you like shit.

You couldn’t help it. You loved him. You had to of. You made excuses for the shitty things he did and never broke up with him. It hurt to see him kiss another girl. The icing on the cake.

He used you because that’s what men like him do.

You barely recognize another pair of footsteps behind you, so angry with yourself for crying. Was it normal to cry over someone so shitty?

“Hey. Hey…” The familiar voice soothes you and soon your met with his eyes. Twinkling like the stars. His arms wrap around you, comforting you. Luke was always around when you needed it. Which made him the perfect boyfriend.

“I should’ve known. I should’ve known he would do that!” You reprimanded yourself. Words muffled in Luke’s shoulder.

Luke frowned at that. Love can make someone do crazy things, including blinding one’s faults. “God, he was such a dick!”

“Yeah, almost all the letters are in his last name.” Luke quipped and pulled back from the hug to wipe away your tears. “Just missing the ‘d’, god, sex with him must’ve been horrible if he was missing the ‘d’.”

You laughed through your blurry vision at his corny joke; his attempt to make you feel better. The whole cheating fiasco sobered you up and now, you noticed how close Luke was to you. “Listen, he’s going to regret treating a beautiful girl like shit, okay?” Luke reassured.

Your heart beat a little faster. “You think I’m beautiful?”

“Always, sweetheart. Every damn day.” Luke admitted sheepishly with a grin and kissed your forehead.

Your ear turned pink beneath your hair. Was it right? To be so close to your best friend, to think about him in that way when you had a break up minutes ago.

You stare at him, not saying anything. No words were desperately trying to claw its way out of her mouth. Then, your eyes slowly shift to his lips: pink, thin, kissable.

It’s a bad idea, right?”

But, this is the most sober you have been all night. “You…” You knit your eyebrows, finding words to say. “You’ve always been there for me. Like nobody else, saved me countless of times for my ex…”

You want to cry, expressing this after the whole Nate situation. You cupped his cheeks with your hands. “You’re so handsome and—and…I think I’ve been thinking this for a long time.”

“God, how awful of me.”

Luke gave you a sympathetic look and put his hands on your wrists. He leaned over to press a soft kiss to your pulse point that caused even more pink to bloom across your cheeks. “I will…I will do everything McCormick couldn’t do for you.” Luke promised, and tucked a piece of hair back.

“You already have.” You whispered and pressed your lips to his. They were like magnets itching to connect. Luke’s hands slid down to your hips, rubbing tiny circles into the bone. You hands pressed against his chest.

This, this was what a kiss was supposed to feel like. Nothing dull or quick—but thought out with sparks flying everywhere.

“I…I’ve liked you, for a really—really long time.” Luke admitted blushing slightly. “I mean since the first day we met, I’m sure.”

“I don’t want you to think this is a rebound thing.” You mumbled and he kissed you sweetly, dispelling the thought right out of your head.

“I know it’s not. You’re just finally realizing your feeling for me because I’m so awesome.” Luke joked, but it made you waiver your doubts in an instance. “I promise you, sweetheart, I’ll be a better boyfriend than him.”

“You already are. You already have…” You repeated and kissed him again. It was true, Luke had practically been your boyfriend on the side when dates with Nate weren’t working out. He cheered you up, brought flowers to your event, and made you feel less guilty about the boxing match.

The two of you parted after a little bit. Foreheads resting on one another. “How about…we ditch this party, get the others and have another movie night?” Luke suggested.

“You just want to do more face masks.” You accused jokingly.

“I do not!” You could feel hit grin, so close to your face. Luke wrapped a strong arm around your waist and guided you back to the party. He was going to retrieve your friends.

“Do too.” You retorted and pointed at his smile.

“Okay, maybe I do. Can we do them?” Luke pouted and faced you.

“Fine.”

Luke’s grin widened. He celebrated walking back inside to retrieve your friends. He wanted you to time him. A motivation thing, you guessed.

The timer stopped at ten minutes and fifty one seconds when he came out of your house with Clarisse, Silena and Thalia.

—– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–

[thecharacterchronicler]

The Bitter Taste Of My Fury (Part 4) || Coriolanus Snow X Reader || Smut

GIF is not mine, credits to the creator/owner ❤️

Outline: After a vicious attack from the rebels, Coriolanus lets some of his true feelings for you show.

Word count: 5’133

Warnings: death, murder, PTSD and explicit smut.

Author’s note: I wrote this forever ago and can’t seem to be 100% satisfied with it for some reason, I’m feeling awfully self conscious putting this out so please have mercy on me.

I made a few changes to the original story so that it would fit with my fanfic. (Making the quarter quell for which they sent two boys and two girls the 25th one instead of the 50th so that Coriolanus and his wife’s ages would fit into my plot.) I tried to make it readable as a one shot but keep in mind that it’s actually part of a multi-part series if you need/want more context.

It would help me out a lot with my next WIPs if you could answer the poll down below 🖤

((Part 1 - There Will Come A Ruler)) - ((Part 2 - Snow Lands On Top)) - ((Part 3 - Insatiable)) - (( Part 5 - Craving ))

Coriolanus risked a glance from behind the black curtain to survey the large amphitheater quickly - and noisily - filling up. It was his last speech before the day of the election, his last opportunity to convince the people of Panem that he would be a good president. He had been working on his text for weeks, the last few days he had even stayed up all night to practice and memorize it to the point that the words were constantly turning in his head. He was nervous and, even if he usually was pretty good at hiding it - he felt like all the citizens taking place in the room to listen to him would notice how much he was afraid of messing up.

“You’re supposed to go on stage in five minutes.” Minerva said, Coriolanus’s young assistant was stressed out, as per usual. “Excuse me Sir, but I couldn’t help but notice that your wife isn’t here… Yet ?”

The last time Coriolanus had seen you, you both got into an argument which ended with him, fucking you rougher than what he ever allowed himself to until then. Once he was done with you, you still seemed upset with him and the reason of the dispute still grated on his nerves. For the three following days, he had spent his nights at his office. He had been mulling over what your strong feelings about such a futile matter might mean. He had expected you to be unhappy with his decision to fire Marius, your driver, but he hadn’t thought you’d be so vocal about it, even daring to demand that he be rehired. He had fired a lot of his employees in the past and you had never complained about it once, but your personal driver seemed more important to you than all the others… Was it because you had an affair with him ? Was he the one to provide you with comfort and attention whenever Coriolanus worked late ? And what if he was the one who ended up getting you pregnant ? Surely he couldn’t accept that. His heir needed to be his.

“I sent Alastair to get her an hour ago, they should arrive any minute now.” He replied, his tone unexpectedly soft in contrast to his growing irritation. But he had faith that his own driver would drag you out of the manor himself if you refused to attend such an important event for your husband.

Coriolanus glanced in the amphitheater once again, scanning the crowd in search of your familiar face but still didn’t find it. He tugged on his collar, feeling more stressed than ever before. He knew every word to his speech, he knew exactly how to behave, how to move, how to smile to win this once and for all and yet, beads of nervous sweat were forming on his forehead, his tie suddenly too constricting for his rapid breathing.

When Minerva waved a hand at him, he had no choice but to take his place at the center of the stage, even if he still hadn’t spotted you among the crowd. It was unlikely of you to be late. And even less likely that his driver would be late… The applause and cheers from his audience as he walked out from behind the black curtain almost made him forget about it all though. For a brief moment, he felt the adrenaline buzzing in his body, making him believe that he was capable of anything and proving yet again that his place was there, on stage, at the center of everyone’s admirative attention.

He smiled, waved, spotted a few influential people seating in the first rows and made sure to make eye contact with each of them as he started his speech. His best one.

But no matter how perfect his tone was, how carefully chosen his words were, the crowd slowly began to grow agitated. A few heads turned to take a look at the doors, some noise coming from behind them and before he could even fathom what had happened, an intense blow pushed him back, making his ears ring.

The loud explosion made the foundations of the ampitheater tremble, windows shattered, pieces of the ceiling came crushing to the ground but the chaos that followed was by far the scariest part. People screamed in terror, rushing in every direction to get out, pushing and stepping over each other with no decorum left, the crowd had turned into a bunch of frightened animals and they all were individually fighting for their lives.

A door was opened and a thick dark smoke rapidly filled the room, making everyone cough and scream louder. Coriolanus pulled his collar over his mouth and nose, trying to filter the smoke he’d inhale and retreated behind the black curtain, knowing there would be a door for him to escape much more easily there, out of the frenzy and chaos of the crowd.

He rushed to the back, fleeing by the concealed door while his people kept fighting to escape the suffocating smoke. He looked around, trying to get his thoughts back in order to come up with a plan, he needed to find a way to warn your driver about what had happened, so that he could avoid bringing you straight into danger. Better yet, he could drive you far away from it.

He walked in hurried steps while the people who had managed to escape ran away, the magnificent and imposing capitol building menacing to completely shatter and tumble down into dust. Leaving and reaching the street outside was the best course of action to ensure his safety, but a part of him with visibly no instinct of survival, remained determined to look around in search of a phone or whatever device he could use to warn you. To make sure you’d be safe.

He reached the front desk of the town hall, searching among the fallen bricks and thick layers of rubble with the hope to find something that would work to contact your driver…

Alastair ?

Coriolanus blinked a few times, stopping his frenetic search of the desk to stare at the silhouette running to the doors, recognizing the bald head and small frame of his driver.

“Alastair ?!” He called, as loud as he could to be heard above the distant screams and cries. The man turned around to look at him, fear appearing in his eyes when he recognized his boss… So he kept running.

Coriolanus took off after him, his tall legs giving him a clear advantage to catch up on the older man. He pushed him aside, grabbing him by his collar and slammed him against a dangerously unstable pillar.

“Where is my wife ?” He asked, leveling his face with his so that he could stare at him with his most menacing look.

“The rebels, they attacked… It was an explosion.” Alastair mumbled, inconherently. Coriolanus purposely slammed him against the hard surface again, hoping the shock it caused to his head would bring him back to his senses.

“WHERE IS MY WIFE ?!” He shouted, making it clear that if he had to ask again he might knock him unconscious instead.

“I don’t know, it exploded… The smoke… I ran.”

“You left her ?!” Your husband asked him, rage dangerously starting to take over at the realization that the one he had trusted with your security had so easily left you behind to save his own life.

“I have a family.” Alastair justified, his voice weakening and his breathing coming out raucous and labored. What was that supposed to mean ? That he was more important than you because he had children ? Was he implying that you didn’t deserve to live as much as he did because you hadn’t gave him a heir yet ?

Coriolanus’s gaze fell to his hands, the ones he was holding tightly around his driver’s neck, squeezing with all the strength of his rage. The older man started choking, tried to fight his employer off but he wasn’t strong enough and the shock of the whole situation didn’t help him think rationally enough to hope win this fight for his life.

Tighter.

Alastair’s face became alarmingly pale.

Tighter.

Alastair’s lips turned blue.

Tighter.

Alastair’s body dropped down on the floor.

Dead.

Coriolanus took a step back, watching the limp figure on the ground with clear disgust but he wasn’t sure if he felt it because Alastair had abandoned you or for himself, for adding someone else’s blood to his already stained hands.

There was no time to ponder his actions anyway. The judgment of his morals would have to wait until he found you and got you to safety. It was all that mattered. So, while people were still running out of the falling apart building, he ran back in, straight towards the thick smoke.

He called your name, so desperate to hear your voice answering him but the fleeing crowd was way too loud and agitated for him to hope hearing it and let it lead him to you. But he kept shouting anyway.

Some of his employees found him, tried to convince him to turn around and leave before the ceiling would collapse on him but he refused, determined to find you, even with the smoke burning his lungs and irritating his eyes.

His head was spinning, if the first people he had ran into were wearing their formal attire, slowly he started recognizing the red academy uniforms he used to wear every day. Then, he noticed the colors of a rainbow dress, fading in the thick smoke in front of him. A long time ago, the person wearing it had ran to him to save him from a similar situation, now she seemed to be running away, impossible for him to catch.

Was she the one who had led this violent attack against him ? And now she was here, running around the debris like an untouchable wild animal just to taunt him ? Of course she did. All she ever wanted was to end him. Ruin his life. Ruin everything.

Real or not, he followed her path, desperate to see where she would lead him. He didn’t like the feeling it gave him though, the feeling of being an eighteen years old boy who knew nothing about anything anymore. A naive man, who thought his survival depended on other people rather than on himself.

“Coryo…” Your voice called, answering his calls.

He perked up with a renewed determination to make his way through the smoke and find you. Rainbow colors and blood red uniforms faded from his vision. You were close, so he kept shouting your name, frantically searching around him until he collided against you.

He knew your body well enough by now to instantly recognize you, no one fitted in his arms the way you did. He looked down at you, trying to decipher wether you were injured or not but the dust covering your skin and hair made it hard to spot any trace of blood. He turned around, wanting to go back on his footsteps now that your hand was secured in his but he stopped when he noticed you could barely keep up, limping and coughing after each wince of pain that deformed your face.

Without a word, he came back to you and picked you up, carrying you in his arms even if his lungs were about to give up too. If he was going to die today, so be it but not before he got you out of there.

A plea for help resounded next to you, the barely visible shape of a woman stuck under a heavy pillar outstretching an arm in your direction, begging for her life. Coriolanus looked at her but kept walking, collateral damages were inevitable.

Finally, the smoke started dissipating, replaced by fresh air that burned your lungs in an entirely different way. A large crowd had formed in the street, kept at good distance from the collapsing building by peacekeepers. Many pairs of curious eyes turned to you, recognizing the presidential candidate heroically carrying his wife away from a vicious rebel attack. Some peacekeepers approached, freeing your husband’s arms to carry you to safety. They brought you to a medical tent that had been set up, where professionals and volunteers were running around, trying to care for the many injured and wounded victims.

An oxygen mask was placed on your face, providing you with the air you so desperately needed while a young woman tried to make you as comfortable as possible despite her apparent overwhelm.

“I’ll find some oxygen for you too, Sir.” She promised Coriolanus but he shook his head, refusing.

“Take care of my wife first.” He asked, and the woman nodded before scurrying away.

Time seemed to slow down as Coriolanus spent countless hours in the armchair next to your hospital bed, watching over you, making sure you were taken well care of and mulling over his thirst for revenge. The rebels had crossed a line with this attack, they were clearly targeting him - and you - with it and that was simply unacceptable. His desire to become the new president of Panem was consuming him more than ever, thinking about the possibilities such a position would offer him to retaliate in kind against the districts. He could order the troops to bomb them, erase them from the map and the surface of the earth. He could decide of the fate of the very ones who committed the crime to try and kill him, he could set an example of what doom would be brought upon anyone who ever tried to hurt a Snow again… But he wasn’t president, yet.

However, his position as head gamemaker of the Hunger Games gave him quite a unique chance to keep the districts in check and remind them who truly held the power, after all, he had learned all the tricks from Doctor Gaul during the few years he had been working for her. He knew the only way to get his message to the rebels would be to answer in kind and make sure they’d know the fear of potentially loosing someone precious to them too…

A few days later, the doctors cleared you to go home so he decided to go back to his office and put his plan in motion.

As soon as he sat behind his desk, Minerva entered his office, holding a large file against her chest.

“I received the official report of the incident.” She announced, handing him the paper. He flipped the pages, brows furrowed and eyes rapidly darting across each paragraph.

“Twenty four deaths… And counting.” He read out loud.

“And I’m very sorry to tell you that I was informed that Alastair is among the victims.” She told him, which caused him to look at her, gravity etched on his face.

He had the perfect reaction. Not too emotional. Still professional. Believable.

“Do we know what happened to him exactly ?”

“The coroner said he died of asphyxiation from the smoke, like many others unfortunately.”

“It’s unfortunate indeed.” Coriolanus nodded, with a forced frown. “Make sure to send our condolences to his family.”

“Of course, Sir.” His assistant said, taking notes. “Anything else i can do ?”

“Yes… Call the press, I have an important announcement to make.” He stated, still more determined than ever to make everyone involved pay for what they did.

“And now, a message from Coriolanus Snow, head gamemaker of the Hunger Games and candidate for presidency.” The news anchor announced, as the camera zoomed in on your husband’s tired face, his brow furrowed and severity marking his traits.

“On Friday, people of the Capitol were the target of a terrible attack from an outlawed and violent group of radical people. We’ve lost precious lives and many of our citizens were gravely wounded during the attack.” Coriolanus spoke, solemnly, as the cameras shifted between different point of views of him. His voice was calm despite the rage displayed on his face. “Therefor, in retaliation, as head gamemaker, I have decided to make the 25th edition of the Hunger Games one that will remind everyone of the Capitol’s power… For this first quarter quell, each district will be required to send two boys and two girls into the arena.”

You watched your husband’s press conference on the television in the quiet and lonely living room of the manor, jaw dropping at his announcement. Was he taking advantage of the attack to give a lesson to the district, show his almighty power and advance his presidential campaign by gaining the Capitol’s support ? Or was he seeking out revenge for you ? Your chest tightened at the thought, could he care about you enough to be doing this for you ? Imagining you could be one of the reasons - among a thousand more important ones - for the punishment he decided to impose on the districts made your heart beat faster. With a husband so shy for words, a gesture like this one would speak volumes about how he truly felt.

You reached for the remote with a wince and turned the TV off, plunging the living room in darkness apart from the faint light coming from the crackling fire in the chimney. You stood with another wince, silently cursing at the doctors for sending you home without any meds to manage the pain you still felt so vividly in your body. If you had been a simple citizen, surely they would have kept you there longer, made sure that you were fully healed before letting you leave the private sector of the Capitol’s hospital but since the crowd of reporters, cameras and photographers was increasing with each passing day by the entrance of the hospital, they took the decision to send you home. Officially, it was meant to reassure Panem about the health of their potential future First Lady, show them you were as strong and courageous as your husband. But really, they just wanted to get rid of the public disturbing their other patients‘ peace.

You climbed the stairs leading to your bedroom slowly, and then sat at your vanity with a sigh. The reflection in front of you didn’t do justice to how you really felt. As soon as you had been discharged, a team invaded your room to make you look as flawless as you were always supposed to be, taking care of your hair, your makeup, your clothes, hiding any trace of the attack so that you could walk out, dazzling and smiling for the cameras. And of course you did just that. You managed to answer a few questions shouted at you with elegance and respect , offering sympathy to the ones who had suffered more than you did , smiling as some children handed you flowers and holding your head high just to let the rebels know that it would take more than this to bring Mrs Snow down.

But deep inside, you were a wreck. Images of the attack kept popping in your mind, you could still smell the smoke, feel it filling your lungs, suffocating you. You could still hear the screams, the cries, the shouts and the explosions. You could still feel the sharp pain in your shoulder when the column behind you collapsed and a heavy piece of marble hit you. You still had the bruises and the scratches on your skin from all the debris that flew in your face, even if they currently were hidden under a thick layer of makeup.

You slowly took it all off with a wipe, feeling almost relieved at the sight of the purple mark on your cheek and the other one on your neck, like a validation that you weren’t feeling so bad for nothing. You reached up to untie the sophisticated hairdo your beauty team had insisted on doing, but the sharp pain in your shoulder combined to the stiffness of your neck made it impossible to take more than two pins out before having to bring your arms down and take a deep breath to try and soothe the pain.

You had always considered yourself lucky to have such a big team of talented people to prepare you for every event you had to attend, sometimes they even got you ready and looking your best for simple shopping trips or private dinners if they expected you to be followed by reporters and photographers. But then, once the lights were out, the crowd long gone and the cameras pointed somewhere else, once you were back in the privacy and loneliness of your own home, then there wasn’t anyone to help you take off all this attire and help you be yourself again.

You were about to give up. At the moment, sleeping with twenty pins stabbing your scalp didn’t seem merely as painful as lifting your arm again did. But a movement in your mirror caught your attention. You lifted your eyes to the reflection, noticing a white silhouette, almost glowing in contrast to the darkness of your room, standing by the door, big blue eyes set on you.

You observed him quietly for a moment, unsure if he was really there or if it was yet another trick your mind was playing on you. Because you had a lot of visions of him lately. His face appearing in thick smoke. His voice shouting your name. His arms carrying you out of the chaos. His hand holding yours in the cold hospital room… You weren’t sure which memories were real or not. You couldn’t tell if he really had been by your side at the hospital this whole time or if you had just imagined his presence to reassure yourself. Were you imagining him there again so you wouldn’t feel so desperately lonely ?

“Let me help you with that.” He said, his tone softer than usual. He took the few steps in your direction, stopping behind you. You watched in the mirror as his fingers wandered in your hair in search of pins to take off, letting locks of hair fall down on your shoulders each time he removed one.

His touch was real. The heat you felt coming from his chest and radiating on your back was real. The expression of worry on his face every time he met your gaze in the reflection was real. He was real.

And instead of reassuring you like you thought it would, you suddenly felt invaded in your privacy to have him here, in your bedroom for the very first time. He shouldn’t see you like this, with your makeup off and your hair down, the bruises and the sorrow all too visible on your face. This wasn’t the image of the wife he had asked for. The wife who he wanted to impregnate. It was a pathetic reflection of a wounded and scared girl, wondering if she’ll ever be able to recover from such an horrific incident.

“I didn’t leave the hospital looking like this.” You felt compelled to say to justify how you looked in front of him, uncomfortable at the thought that it was the very first time he’d see you as you really were.

“I know, I watched the news from my office.” He simply said, focusing on finding the few last pins still tugging at your hair.

“And I watched your press conference.”

“What do you think about my idea for the quarter quell ?” His pale eyes found yours, silently gauging your reaction.

“I think a lot of people will love it, it’ll probably gain you many votes for the next round…”

“Probably but I meant what do you think about it ? Will it be a clear enough message to the districts that there will be hell to pay if they ever even think about hurting us again ?” He leaned closer, his breath brushing your ear. “Do you think all of Panem will now know that nobody hurts my wife without meeting the consequences ?”

You left out a breath, shocked by the rage you saw burning in his usually charming eyes. Either he was masterfully manipulative, wanting to make you believe that the decision he took to hold special games in retaliation was to avenge you, while it was, in fact, all about his career first. Either he really had done it for you, and the implications of such a revelation in regards to his true feelings for you were as terrifying to you as the first hypothesis was.

He remained quiet, removing his hands from your hair once he had pulled out the last pin and reached down to the zipper of your dress, slowly pulling it down with his pale eyes fixed to yours in the mirror.

Your breath caught in your throat. Was he trying to help you ? The zipper being in your back, you probably would have struggled to reach it, but the way he was taking care of it, so torturously slow, the tip of his fingers grazing the soft skin he revealed on his path made you question his true motives.

He leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on your neck, exactly where your heart started pulsing wildly in reaction. He pulled the fabric of your dress down, until it pooled around your hips. You saw him take a look at your reflection in front of him, the sight of the bruise on your chest and the other one over your clavicle setting his fury ablaze. He balled his fists tightly, as if he was trying to contain himself so you turned around to face him, placing a gentle hand on his cheek.

You didn’t dare consider that the reason for his anger was because he cared about you enough… But the way he relaxed into your touch made you wonder if you should.

He kissed your lips. Softly. Gently. Almost reverently, as if he was taking the full measure of what he could have been deprived of for the rest of his life with a different outcome of the events of that night.

“I will kill them.” He declared, a cold determination in his tone you had never heard from him before. “I’ll kill every single person responsible for this.”

He moved his fingers over the purple bruise on your chest, a featherlight touch that still caused you a sting of pain, to mark his words.

You remembered a quote you had studied in school, it said something like “pain is the only thing that makes us feel alive.” And, since it was written in your book and taught by your professor, you had always considered it to be true… Until now. Now you knew that there wasn’t anything else on earth that could possibly make you feel more alive than Coriolanus Snow and the way he kissed you, touched you and filled you up. And no pain would be able to stop your determination of feeling alive tonight. Maybe his way to cope from the attack was to hunger for violence and blood, but yours was to live.

You leaned towards him and kissed him with more fervor than he did. He returned the kiss but kept some restraint from the usually hungry and rough way you were used to having him.

“Don’t tempt me.” He groaned, against your lips. “Not when you’re hurt and still recovering.”

“I’m not made of sugar.” You assured him, with a soft smile but he didn’t return it, moving away to look at you like he had seen a ghost. Did he have flashbacks of the attack too ? Or something else ? He’d probably never tell you anyway, because he shook it off before you could open your mouth and ask him if he was alright, worry leaving its place to resolve on his face.

He walked to your bed, stopping at the edge and scanning your nightstand carefully as he slowly started unbuttoning his shirt. Then, he looked around, his eyes taking a moment to consider each object, each piece of decoration in your bedroom. It was the first time he entered it and although the way he threw his shirt on the floor and began unfastening his belt suggested he had other plans than simply asking you for a tour, he still took in most of the details of the only place where you could find privacy in your own home.

You stood up, removing your dress too and feeling suddenly very exposed to him. Your room, your face without makeup, your hair undone, your bruised skin, everything you usually kept hidden from your husband was now on display for him to see and you felt self conscious about it.

“Lie down.” Coriolanus demanded, kicking his pants off, leaving him with nothing on but his bare body for you to stare at, his skin almost as white as the suits he liked to wear.

You obeyed, climbing on the bed from the opposite side from where he stood. You let your head fall down on your fluffy pillow, breathing a sigh of relief as you noticed how the many aches in your body were appeased by the comfortable mattress under you.

He climbed on the bed next to you and it felt somewhat strange to see him there, in your room, on your sheets, naked. He hooked his fingers under the elastic of your underwear and gently pulled them down your legs, the lace fabric sending shiver down your spine on its way down your body.

He spread your legs open for him, and placed himself between them, sitting back on his knees. He looked at your bruises again so, instinctively, you tried to hide them with your arms and hands in fear that he might change his mind and leave you wanting. Thankfully, he had mercy for you and, even though he didnt seem quite sure about how to proceed this time - as if he was worried that he wouldn’t be able to tame his usual roughness - he slowly stroked the tip of his cock between your folds.

He guided it in circles, teasing your entrance every once in a while, pressing over your bud, spreading your growing wetness all over in its wake and you noticed how it made him harden too, his cock increasing in length and girth in his hand with each movement.

It didn’t take long for either of you to be ready for more. After all, it had been a whole week during which the only physical contacts you had shared was him holding your hand at the hospital or placing a chaste kiss on your forehead each time he had to leave you for a while, and that was if you hadn’t dreamed or imagined it.

No longer able to tease you, he ended up pushing his erected member inside you, finding its way in so easily it felt like you were made to fit him by now. He noticed it too, how easy it was for him to bury himself all the way in you until his balls were squeezed between your bodies and he sighed with contempt as your warm and wet pussy engulfed him fully.

You said his name in a panted breath, loving the way he filled you up with his hard cock and his eyes darted to yours, his gaze shining with lust. He moved, starting with short slides back and forth to make sure you could take it then, once he saw you close your eyes and bite your lip to conceal a moan, he got a bit rougher and faster, shoving himself back in with enough force to make the bed crack loudly.

“Yes!” You cried, as you felt his dick repeatedly hit the perfect spot so deep inside you, sending such pleasure through your entire body that you already felt close to coming undone. If there was any pain in your bruised body, you didn’t feel it anymore. All your mind could focus on was the intensity of his thrusts inside of you and the ecstasy building in your core in reaction.

He moved to hover over you, the change of angle making his strong movements even more intense. A moan fell from your lips but he silenced it with a hungry kiss, his taut chest pressing against yours.

He gathered you in his arms, holding your body tightly against his as he kept relentlessly thrusting inside you, swallowing all the moans that escaped from your lips with his desperate kisses.

You closed your legs around his hips, holding on to him as tightly as he was holding on to you. His thrusts lost their speed and intensity, but he still hit exactly where you needed him, making you whimper and moan with pleasure. His grip tightened and so did yours, both of you determined to never let each other go, him holding you like you might vanish at any moment and you holding him like your life depended on it.

He groaned, spilling his seed inside you with one powerful push. You dug your nails in his back, as his movements slowed down and your body contracted, your mind swimming in bliss.

He was panting, from his efforts and from the feverish kisses he kept giving you through it all. And yet he captured your lips with his again, in a much softer - almost loving - kiss. Then he set you free from his embrace, rolling on his side next to you and you istantly felt cold without the weight and warmth of his body on top of yours.

You shivered and he noticed, pulling the sheet over your numb body. You looked at him, wondering if he’ll stay the night. It would be the very first time you’d get to sleep with your husband. If the idea would have been dreadful to you just a year ago, now you wanted nothing more than to press your spent body against his and feel his presence as you drift off to sleep, knowing that you are safe with him by your side.

♡ - (( Tip Jar )) - ♡

[ahhnini]

oh im obsessed w frat rafe tarot reader i need more

omg tysm!! <3 this was sent a while ago, but I appreciate the kind words still!! here’s more about tarot!reader!reader (still don’t know what to call her😔) this was also supposed to be just headcanons but I got carried away. hope you enjoy!! <3

the world - frat!rafe cameron x tarot card!reader! reader

warnings - cw slight verbal harassment from frat boys, suggestive at the end

texts between rafe and reader / the star

ೃ༄ her dorm room is definitely filled with her little trinkets! from crystals, calico critters, to pieces of lace, she’s got it! she’s definitely the type of person to just pull out anything from her bag if anyone needs it.

ೃ༄ don’t forget her collection of her favorite tarot decks on her bookshelf! they’re her favorite because she loves the art, but also because some have been gifted to her from her friends from home! (they miss her dearly)

ೃ༄ adding onto that, she prefers pulling her daily card from one of these decks versus digitally, as it tends to resonate more (she only looks digitally if she doesn’t want to get out of bed)

ೃ༄ her nails are always painted. she figured if she was going to be doing readings for people, she couldn’t let them look at her bare nails. however, no acrylics, she’s tried them before, but unfortunately it became difficult to pull cards out with them :(

ೃ༄ despite what people think, she’s very intelligent! she’s a business major at her school, and she’s (almost) the top of her class.

ೃ༄ her outfits alwaysss give, and she always wears her signature red platform loafers. just one class for her? she’s putting them on. running errands? strutting in them.

ೃ༄ her niche is baking, she hasn’t baked for anyone at school, except rafe! he said to start up a bake sale at their college, but she said that she only bakes for her friends. that made rafe feel fuzzy inside.

ೃ༄ however, during her third year of college, things got rough :( the school had only let freshmen and sophomores live in the dorms, and reader hadn’t been able to make any friends except rafe. rent was dangerously high around town, so she spent most of her nights in her own shop, curled up on one of her beanbags.

ೃ༄ when rafe saw you, sleeping an inch of the floor through one of the windows of the building, he immediately rushed to you, entering the security code for the door and waking you up. it startled you, of course, you had thought someone was breaking in.

ೃ༄ once rafe reassured you, he ran to the cafe across the street for some bagels and coffee, and sat you up on your beanbag. from there forward, you’d told him everything, and he listened. you’d always be there to give him advice, so he felt a little guilty about not knowing your current situation.

ೃ༄ little did you know this conversation would take a turn of events you’d never expect.

ೃ༄ he smiles brightly as you both stand in front of his frat house, a small “ta-da” coming from his mouth. the hand around your suitcase clutched tighter as you try and stop yourself from nervously chuckling. he grabs your free hand, dragging you up the steps of the manor. he knocks on the front door, and you look at the ground, the clacking of your loafers becoming echoed.

ೃ༄ you put up a small smile when the frat president opens the door, he nods and introduces himself as jay before welcoming you and rafe in.

ೃ༄ it had been cleaner than you’d expected, minus some empty water bottles strewn across the floor. you didn’t know why, but from all the rumors you’ve heard, you were expecting something a bit more…grotesque.

ೃ༄ you make your way up the grand stairs, rafe carrying your suitcase, mumbling about how you have more trinkets in there than clothes. he shows you his room, and it was the complete opposite of your previous dorm. it was minimalist, barely any decor, and filled with monochrome black and white. bleh. the only pop of color that he had were the crystals he’d bought from you, which shine on his windowsill. “how do you live like this?” you ask, dropping to your knees and opening up your suitcase. he shrugs, “just like it like this,” you dramatically shiver your shoulders and he scoffs.

ೃ༄ your nerves didn’t calm down at all when rafe showed you around the house, and it had to be the time when most of the boys got back from their classes. although jay stated that rafe’s friend was going to be staying, he failed to mention said friend was a lady. especially the one whos reputation was said to be very antisocial around campus.

ೃ༄ some ogled, it was a given, some already gave you their numbers, adding a note to “call them if you get stuck in the washing machine” (ew) (and you swore you could’ve seen them with their girlfriends around town). nevertheless, rafe shut them all down, wrapping a protective arm around you.

ೃ༄ once dinner came around, you were amazed at the en suite buffet the house offered, sitting across rafe with your hefty plate of food.

ೃ༄ once night rolled around, you quickly realized that you and rafe had to sleep in the same bed, as there were no spares. you’d been fine with it, and rafe said he was fine with it, but you doubted that claim when he kept moving around throughout the night.

ೃ༄ eventually, he’d found a comfortable spot, spooning you, and you tried your best to not be bothered by his hardness pressing up against you as you drifted to sleep.

taglist - @nemesyaaa @julie123456897 @mfdoomdickrider @grxnde-dwt @littlelamy @rafeeekam @xcinnamonmalfoyx

[the-fic-locker]

The Widow | Part One

Pairing: Min Byungyu x f!reader x Baek Yoonho

Content Warning: character death, grief, mentions of blood, tears, loneliness

Genre: angst, eventual fluff, eventual smut, slow burn

Summary: Yoonho never imagined that his best friend would keep such a monumental secret from him, but after his death, Yoonho is tasked with breaking the news to someone he has never met.

Word Count: 2,685

Author's Note: This has not been proofread, so I will be going back eventually and editing, however, this is also part of a series, so as parts come out, I will be trying to edit. I cannot guarantee how quickly parts will come out, nor how long this series will be exactly. Just bear with me and I hope you enjoy!

next | series info | masterlist

In hindsight, Yoonho supposed he really should have figured it out sooner. Byungyu’s distaste for battle wasn’t new, but the desire to join the contract sector as an average citizen was new, one he didn’t expect. The man’s financial situation was elite. He had participated in enough dungeons that he had a very lucrative bank account. He didn’t have to do anything. Though Yoonho supposed he couldn’t blame the man for wanting to do something with his life, though why he didn’t choose to go into the medical field was, well, confusing. 

When his best friend had denied him the first few times, it was understandable. Jeju Island had already claimed so many lives, including their best friends, but something had suddenly changed his mind. Yoonho didn’t think anything of it; he was just happy to have the talented healer with them. He should have asked more questions. 

“President Baek, exactly how much did you know about Min Byungyu’s situation?” Chairman Go had asked shortly after the fourth and final raid of Jeju Island. 

He should have been paying more attention, but his chest ached with grief, and his muscles were sore. Hunter Sung had managed to heal them somehow, but nothing could take away the stinging in his hands when his claws protruded. All he wanted to do was go home and crack a beer, and sit in the silence of his empty apartment he never had the time to fill with personal effects. He wanted to wallow in pity and self-hatred until a new day dawned and he had to go back to his guild and act like everything was ok; worse, to celebrate the enormous victory. 

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean, sir. He wanted to give up being a hunter all together and go work as a custodian in an office firm,” Yoonho had explained.

The look the Chairman had given him was diplomatic, but there was a twinge of something, perhaps sorrow, hidden behind his eyes. Yoonho had glanced up at Manager Jinchul Woo who was dutifully standing behind the chairman, but as always, the man was more difficult to read than thousand-year-old hieroglyphics written in decayed clay. 

“So you weren’t aware of his private and personal life?” Chairman Go asked, sounding surprised. 

There was another thing to be guilty over. He called himself Byungyu’s best friend, but he apparently didn’t know anything at all about him! He’d only ever been to the man’s apartment once, and he’d since moved. He hadn’t set foot in the new, larger place. He didn’t interact with the man all that much anymore, except for the occasional text, which was usually Byungyu sending him memes he’d respond to three days later. There was the occasional beer, but Yoonho had been so depressed after losing Eunseok in the third raid that he’d let Byungyu slip farther and farther from his mind. 

“Well, regardless,” Chairman Go sighed, seemingly disappointed. Even Jinchul seemed to be uncomfortable now, shifting his weight from one foot to the other restlessly. “We have a… less than comfortable task to handle. Typically, I’d send Jinchul, but he has been… hugged out… for a while and needs a break, plus he isn’t always as delicate as this situation requires.”

Yoonho wished the old man would get to the point so he could go home. He glanced up at Jinchul, who didn’t seem to care that he’d been called indelicate. Yoonho doubted there was anything about him that was delicate at all. And hugged out? What was that supposed to mean? 

As Yoonho was waiting for the chairman to finish his long-winded explanation, Jinchul disappeared, stepping out of the room to grab something off his desk before returning, holding a small, white box. 

“As you know, upon awakening, we take a memento from every Hunter to deliver back to the family of a fallen Hunter. Byungyu’s token was changed two years ago from a patch from his uniform, a typical token for a bachelor, into this.”

As Chairman Go finished, Jinchul opened the white box. Resting inside, on a white cushion, was a silver locket with a silver chain. There was something engraved upon the top, but Yoonho didn’t feel like using his heightened sight to strain to read it. 

“He has asked that this locket be delivered to the widow he’d be leaving behind, and we thought you should be the one to do it.”

The fact that his best friend was married and he had no clue was another punch to the gut, but what’s perhaps worse was thinking about the grieving woman in their apartment, waiting for her husband to come home. She would know that their helicopter had landed. She’d know that they’d won. She probably wouldn’t know about Byungyu’s death yet. The camera had evidently cut out by then. And now…

“Sir… respectfully… I can’t…” he mumbled, already feeling numb. 

Chairman Go pulled something out of his pocket and placed it in Yoonho’s hands. It was a letter, folded a few times on otherwise unremarkable paper. As Yoonho unfolded it, his hands shaking, he gasped as he found Byungyu’s handwriting scribbled as neatly as the man could. 

Yoonho, If you’re reading this letter, I can only assume it is because something happened and I have lost my life. First of all, don’t beat yourself up about it. Whatever happened, I’m sure I went out trying to protect my friends, and there is no better way in my book. However, now that I am gone, I am leaving you with a difficult task. I am sorry this has fallen to you.  I have a wife. Her name is (y/n). She pieced me back together after Eunseok’s death, and we got married a year later. I know this is a bomb to drop, and I tried to tell you, many times, but neither of us were in a good state at the beginning and as you feel deeper and deeper into your guild, using the work to keep you from actually feeling the sorrow, I moved on, and I didn’t think you’d understand.  Yoonho, being a Hunter is hard work and it’s messy. I have never regretted my decision to leave, but if something has pulled me back in, I know I died happily for you. Do not let my death pull you into another depression. This one might kill you. You were reckless enough as it is. I am not mad at you for however you pulled me back into the game. Do not let your mind convince your heart that I am. And don’t throw yourself into your work to punish yourself. That’s not doing anyone any favors. Instead, you can atone for my death (if you still feel like you need to) in two ways.  Take the locket and a letter back to my Jimin. Tell her how I died, she needs to know everything. Comfort her. She worries a lot and has habits similar to your own. Don’t let her kill herself through her work. Be there for each other. Stop trying to take the blame for everyone else's decisions. We all make our own. You have never forced anyone to do anything. We make decisions based on your words sometimes, but they are still our decisions. Stop letting yourself be convinced that you’re a god who mind-controls everyone else into doing your bidding. Everything I have ever done has been of my own volition.  I wish you the best in this life, Yoonho. Don’t be afraid to let yourself live life and find love. Hunters are constantly busy, but you can have it all. You can be a Hunter and a life. It’s time for them to stop being one in the same.  I will see you on the other side, my friend.  Love,  Byungyu

The letter had tears pricking to the corners of his eyes and he finally understood the smile Byungyu had given him as Jinwoo had released his shadow. He clenched the letter tightly as looked up at the chairman, only nodding once. He’d watched as Chairman Go fished out the second letter and then he was dismissed, locket and letter tucked inside the same box in his shaking hands as he made his way to the car and punched in the address he’d been given. 

So here he was, standing in the hallway of the apartment building he’d been directed to, staring at the plain white door that matched all the others, reading the number from Jinchul’s text for the third time to be absolutely sure he was at the right door. 

He could hear movement inside and music. There was the occasional clang of something hard slamming into something else that almost made his skin crawl. He wanted to cut tail and run, to pretend this wasn’t happening, but his arm seemed to act on its own as it raised and knocked firmly. 

The music stopped and he could hear bare feet padding across the floor to the door, his ears picking the sound up easily. He heard the door unlock, and a second later, it was pulled open, revealing his best friend's widow dressed in sweatpants and a stained t-shirt. 

“Baek Yoonho?” your voice was full of confusion. He couldn’t blame you. 

“You know who I am?” he asked. 

“Of course,” you said, wiping your soapy hands on your pants. “Gyu has so many pictures of you and Eunseok all over this place. It sometimes feels like a shrine,” you chuckle softly. 

“How can I help you? Is Gyu ok? He hasn’t come home yet and by the look of you, you all just got back.”

“Can I come inside?” Yoonho spoke, voice soft. 

“Uh yeah sure,” you hold the door open wider. 

He stepped through, admiring the place. The door opened into the front room, living room, where there was a paused Spotify playlist casting from the television. There were slightly mismatched couches pointed at the television, the longer of the two was a thick, plush burnt orange, and the other, smaller one gray with a blanket thrown over the back of it. There was a coffee table with books stacked up on one side and a vase with a handful of roses on the other side. As you led him to the couches, he could see the kitchen from a serving counter window with three bar stools on the end. Inside the kitchen, he could see a strainer full of wet dishes and the sink full of soapy water with a washcloth perched on the side, likely discarded when he’d knocked. 

You motioned for him to sit on the orange couch while you sat down on the gray one, folding your hands into your lap and looking at him expectantly. 

Yoonho’s hands began to shake, and the box in his pocket suddenly felt like it was scorching his skin. He clasped his hands together, trying to hide the way they quavered. 

“Mr. Baek… Where is my husband?” Your voice was quiet, but his accelerated hearing could pick up on the way it cracked on the final word. 

“He…” Yonho had to clear his throat and blink away the tears that threatened to gather. “He didn’t make it… He died… trying to protect me,” his voice came out hoarse and broken in a half-choked sob. 

You were quiet momentarily, processing what he’d just said. When you finally spoke, your voice was strong but uneven. 

“Did he suffer?”

Yoonho tried to think back. Had he? When he saw that things arm go through him… all he could see was blind rage. 

“Not for long. It was over quickly. But he managed…” he swallowed. Should he tell you that his soul saved someone? No. Probably not. And he promised Jinwoo to keep that confidential anyway. “He managed to save one more life before… he was truly gone.”

He looked up into your face. You had silent tears streaming down your cheeks and made no move to brush them away. Your bottom lip trembled, and your chest heaved with labored breathing. 

“I’m not sure if you’re aware… but when becoming a Hunter under the Association, they provide the Association a token in the event they don’t make it back from a raid. This was his,” reaching into his pocket, Yoonho pulled out the box and opened it, placing it on the coffee table. 

You took out the letter on top first and, using his abilities, if against his will, he was able to read the message her husband had left for her. 

My Love,  If you are reading this, I have left you alone in this life and in this world and for that, I am truly sorry. Please understand that if I died in a raid, it was because I will always be there to back up Yoonho and to protect him from himself. He isn’t the best at patiently waiting for the right time to strike, and if no one else is there to back him up when he pounces, I will always be there.  Yoonho scoffed at that. ‘Pounces.’ He wasn’t a cat! He didn’t pounce! Please understand and don’t hate him for it. It was not his fault.  Let him be there for you. You’re going to need to lean on each other. Don’t let the grief drag you down. And don’t let him blame himself.  You both meant so much to me. Know that though I died protecting him in battle, I died protecting you back home. I could not go on living without you and I know that is unfair since that is exactly what I am asking of you. Be strong and move on. Don’t let my death hold you back from living your life.  We will-

You put the letter down before Yoonho could finish reading and buried your face in your hands to cover the wails that left your lips. Yoonho wasn’t sure what came over him. Maybe it was Byungyu’s letter to him, maybe it was the fact that he’d always hated seeing women cry. Whatever the reason, he found himself moving onto the gray couch beside you and placing his hand on your back, stroking it soothingly. He wasn’t expecting you to lean into him, burying your face in his side. It took him a second to respond, but when he did, he held you against his side securely and continued to rub your back. 

You sat like that for a while. You sobbing and Yoonho comforting you in any way he knew how. When your shoulders finally stopped shaking, and you shifted against him, he loosened his hold, allowing you to sit back up. Your eyes were red and bloodshot, but you looked back to the table where the box with the locket still sat. 

Picking up the box, you examined it before lifting it out of the box and opening the locket. There, resting in the two tiny frames, was a picture of  Byungyu giving his most dazzling smile, dressed in his Hunter’s uniform with dirt stained on his cheek. It was an image taken shortly after the first raid under the White Tiger’s guild. The second was you and Byungyu holding onto one another on your wedding day, looking at each other with gazes full of love. 

A sob left your throat as you closed the locket and passed the necklace to Yoonho. 

“Help me put it on,” you said.

Taking it, you turned your back to him and lifted your hair. Yoonho slid the locket around your neck and carefully clasped it in the back. When it was secure, you let your hair fall over the chain and looked down at the jewelry resting on your shirt. 

“Now I guess I have two tokens from him,” you whispered. 

Yoonho was going to ask what you meant until he watched you place your hand on your belly, a sad smile spreading across your face. Yoonho had never felt so sick.