#before everyone reassures him it's just a cold

[honey-tongued-devil]

[Arcane preference] reacting to a jealous s/o

Disclaimer: I’ve had about ten different requests regarding jealousy, and while this doesn’t cover all of them, it does address some. Disclaimer #2: It would be out of character to write that everyone handles it perfectly, so read at your own discretion. Lastly, as always, I’ve got an Arcane longfic in progress! If you’d like to read it, click HERE, and it’ll take you straight to the AO3 page.

Jayce:

You need to get a grip.

He’s an understanding person, but there’s a limit to everything. If jealousy stems from insecurity and is brought up as a calm and peaceful discussion, he’ll sit beside you to talk it out.

However, if it’s a scene, if it escalates into yelling, restrictive demands on his freedom, or absurd and over-the-top behavior, he’ll enter a period of coldness where he’ll reflect on things.

But if it happens again, don’t expect understanding.

You can’t expect to publicly humiliate someone like that, try to control them because of your own insecurities, and not face a negative reaction.

Viktor:

Raises an eyebrow, his only initial reaction.

The first thing he’ll do is laugh—whether because he finds the situation ridiculous or it’s just an instinctive response, that’s what you’ll see first.

From his perspective, he’s working like a beast of burden not just to be independent but to be a person with dignity, breaking free from the dynamic imposed by Zaun and Piltover that has shackled him like some original sin. And now, not only do you not trust him, but you’re also trying to put him back in the role of a pet that needs taming and obedience.

He knows he hasn’t done anything wrong, knows he hasn’t been giving attention to anyone else but you and his work.

That’s why jealousy only damages the relationship.

Ekko:

Perplexed.

Assuming no one would take a public scene well, in the case of a civil confrontation, he’d mostly be confused.

It makes sense, sure, given how close-knit all the Firelights are, but it never occurred to him that it might bother you.

He doesn’t even know how he should react. He’d definitely try to talk with you, figure out what exactly made you feel that way, and explain the ambiguous situation that set you off.

A scene isn’t a dealbreaker with him, but it does lead to a few days of awkwardness before a fight inevitably happens.

That doesn’t mean he lacks self-respect, though. After the umpteenth time, he’ll simply give up.

Vander:

He’s too old for this kind of nonsense, to be honest.

If you throw a scene, he’ll just ignore it. He’ll let you yell and stomp your feet until you’re out of energy, let you cool off, and then come back to have a conversation.

His response will be laced with irony, like, “Well, who wouldn’t be jealous of the most charming man in the Lanes, after all?” But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t take the issue seriously—he’s just trying to lighten the mood.

He’ll ask how you think he should handle it but ultimately decides for himself whether your request is reasonable or over the top.

When you lose your cool, he’ll treat you the same way he used to handle kids throwing tantrums.

Silco:

Let’s assume no one would dare make a scene in public with Silco out of pure survival instinct. That alone would be an immediate dealbreaker, and you wouldn’t have any chance to confront, talk, or even approach his space again.

A private scene would irritate him regardless. When you’re done, his response would be, “Is that all?”

He’s a diplomatic person. The idea of yelling—or even wasting unnecessary energy on these trivial little issues when his vision is grand, almost boundless—feels almost insulting to him.

If, however, you approach it as a calm and rational discussion, while he may still feel mildly annoyed, he’ll try to reassure you and help you understand that there’s no real reason for you to feel that way.

Jinx:

A fertile ground for conflict, given her fear of abandonment, obsessiveness, and jealousy.

Reverse card: if you start a scene, there’s a high chance she’ll throw it right back at you, leading to a full-blown argument.

Her fear of losing you means that even if your request makes her furious, she’ll still do what you want.

Not the healthiest relationship you could have, but hey, who am I to judge?

She’s not one to leave arguments unresolved. After the shouting match, there have to be cuddles, even if only to prove there’s no lingering resentment between you two.

Vi:

Completely caught off guard.

Now, no one likes a scene, BUT she grew up with a sister who felt emotions way too strongly, so there’s a good chance she’ll switch into “caregiver” mode and try to calm you down immediately instead of getting mad.

She wasn’t expecting an outburst like that. She’s likely more hurt by the fact that you feel this way than anything else.

After the fight, she’ll probably ask to hold you for a bit, trying to make up for unintentionally hurting you.

She’s open to changing the things you need her to change because she values you more than other people.

Caitlyn:

Caitlyn’s problem is that she has the dignity—and let’s be honest, that’s what it is—to tell you to fuck off after a jealous scene, especially if it’s in public. But unfortunately, she pours her soul into relationships, so she’ll try to talk it out.

She’ll meet you halfway within reason. Obviously, you can’t ask her to stop going out alone with colleagues after work, but if your concerns are more reasonable, she’ll try to accommodate them.

However, that doesn’t mean she’ll be calm immediately after the scene. Quite the opposite. She’ll need the rest of the day to cool off and a night’s sleep to forget how angry she was.

If you handle things diplomatically instead of with a scene, she won’t be angry but might feel a bit sad.

Mel:

If you throw a scene, expect to be left right where you are—literally.

If you want to yell, stomp your feet, and act immature, she’ll just turn and walk away, and you’ll find out the state of your relationship when you try to return to your shared apartment and find it empty.

It’s not about pettiness; it’s about the humiliation of being publicly exposed, about dragging your private matters into the open, showing so little respect that you can’t even grant her privacy.

If it’s a discussion, prepare to bottle it up.

Everything she does is for appearances, for trust, and as a political figure, she can’t neglect something as crucial as her public image.

It’s up to you to trust her enough.

Sevika:

A public scene disgusts her and puts her in a horrible position. She’ll be mocked—Silco will hit her once and tell her that “You walk her like a dog,” and his goons won’t let her live it down either.

Depending on her mood, the timing, and countless other factors, her reaction could range from ignoring you to screaming at you in the bar to telling you to get a grip or even walking away and ending it.

It’s about respect, pride, and understanding where your limits lie—and this might be one of those moments where you’ve crossed the line.

If you talk things out calmly, don’t expect her to console you. Whether you trust her or not isn’t her problem.

She holds no grudges, but she also has no intention of babying you.

[nakidoriii]

I’ll Take You (Part One)

Alucard x Reader Mini Series

It had been another day of traveling for Alucard. He’d rather his feet be aching from walking than spending another second talking to dolls he had made of his friends. He found himself in a major city in Europe this evening, which made sense, starting this journey almost a month ago.

“I’m sure there’s plenty to do in a city as lively as this one.” He mumbles to himself, making a brief stop to scan the flyers on the town bulletin board.

“Traveling musicians from the West Indies… it would be a good idea to hear some music. I’ve been talking to myself for far too long. Social interaction would be good.”

Making his way to the tavern, he hears a distinctive song being sung by a perplexing voice. He had never heard anything like it. He follows the tantalizing sound of a woman’s voice, no an angels voice. The sound gracing his ears the closer he got to it. He finally laid his eyes on the source, your skin glistening in the moon light as you sang notes as softly as birds do. Alucard couldn’t tell if he was more amazed by your beauty or your ability to sing so impeccably. As the last note left your mouth, you opened your eyes. Immediately gasping, not expecting to see a blonde man staring at you at the end of the alleyway.

“Don’t be startled. I just heard you singing and I had to come see who was making such beautiful noise.” Quickly reassuring you that he’s not a threat.

“Oh, thank you very much.” As he stepped closer, you take in his striking features. His amber eyes, his long blonde hair that sat perfectly on his head, and his physique…he was quite the looker to you.

“Are you apart of the traveling musicians from the West Indies?” He softly asks, barely opening his mouth.

“I am. I mostly sing, but I also play harp. Are you here for the performance?” Your accent sticking out to his ears. It wasn’t your typical West Indie accent. It sounded like a collaboration of dialects forced into one person.

“I am. It’s a pleasure to meet you….” He paused waiting for you to say your name.

“Y/N.” You admit.

His cold hand reach for yours as he bows while kissing your knuckles and says, “I’m Adrian.” His amber eyes locking onto your (eye color) ones, delicately releasing your hand.

“The pleasure is mine Adrian. I have to be on stage in a few minutes. May we talk more after the show?”

“Yes, please find me. I look forward to it.” You look back as you open the back door into the building taking in his beauty one last time before you perform.

He heads into the tavern, leaning his back against the further wall to get the best view of the stage. You walk out carrying your compact harp, gracing everyone with your beauty. The crowd of evidently drunk men start to cheer. Gliding your fingers against the strings to start the song, the audience quiets down. Your voice complimenting the angelic sound of your instrument makes Alucard’s heart skip a beat. Completely engulfed by your sound, he hadn’t felt like this in years. You make eye contact with him as you play the last chords of the song. The audience bursts in applause.

“Thank you very much. Up next we have our drummers of the west indies.” You walk back stage out of Alucards sight.

Every other act, he got to see you in your true habitat. He could watch you all night and that’s exactly what he did. He stood there waiting for you as the tavern eventually cleared out the later it got. The tavern filled with only regulars now. You make your way over to him with your harp strapped to your back as he flashes you a closed mouth smile.

“Did you like the show?” You look up at him with pleading eyes.

“It was beautiful. You’re very talented, truly one of a kind. You should be performing in halls, auditoriums even. Bravo, darling.”

“Handsome and kind, you’re a rarity. Where are you from Adrian?” Alucard smirks at your compliment, his smile growing alittle bit wider. You get glimpses of his sparkling teeth, his canines looking sharper than average.

“Romania. It’s very cold there. I’m assuming you haven’t been.”

“I have not, but I would love to go one day. You see, I want to travel the whole world. Both my parents were traveling musicians, so it’s ingrained in me. Why do you travel?”

“Bored.” He lets out a small giggle and smiles even wider. “Would you want to go for a walk?” He adds in a low whisper, right next to your ear.

You’re succumbed with goosebumps as his cold presence got closer to you. Alucard knows you can see his teeth and yet you still stand in front of him, nodding your head yes to leave the tavern.

“You’re not afraid?” His breath hitting the side of your neck, jump starting your pulse. Scared was the last emotion you felt. You wanted him.

“If you wanted to do anything, you would’ve done it in that alleyway.” You whisper back.

——————————————————————————

This part one of this mini series!! I took the answers from the poll serious guys. Part one is fluff so you already know part two will be smut.

Give me a follow for more one shots and fics :)

Please do not alter or steal my writings ©️

[glossykissies]

i think this was like one of the first scott fics u posted but reader was in college for like fashion design? i think 😭 but anyways reader got a bad grade in one of her classes and scott says she cant touch him cos u cant reward bad behavior!!!

it’s funny because scott thinks he’s handling it the right way.

it’s how he was raised — it’s why he ended up in the working environment he did. his mother was a sweet woman, but his father was hard, never impressed, always pushing scott to achieve more. of course there were times he resented him for being so cold and unyielding, but he supposed he had him to thank for everything. now as a grown adult, scott saw himself in his old man, rearing his ugly head when least expected.

you’d come home to scott, all wired up and manic looking for a distraction. the project you thought you’d been slaving over ended up bringing you your worst grade yet. it wasn’t failable, and you knew you’d be able to pull yourself back — but it was certainly a wake up call. you felt ashamed.

you’d mentioned it in passing to scott as you were toeing your shoes off, thinking that if you treated it as a casual thing, it would be less damning. you were known to work hard, and you’d hate if scott thought any less of you. if there was anyone who’s opinion mattered to you over your professor, it was him.

“— and i’m gonna have to retake that class because i flopped so hard, anyway i had icecream for lunch—”

“hold on.” scott frowns, arms folded over his chest as he leans a shoulder against the wall, narrowing his eyes at you. “retake the class? explain.”

he makes note of the way you swallow and avoid his eyes as you gather up an excuse. “its fine, i failed the class. its fine.” you shrug a shoulder, and scott stares before shaking his head with a sigh.

“look — i told you, if you’re gonna be here all the time you can’t let it interfere with your projects. i think — i think it’s best if you start spending some weekends from home so you can get back on top of—”

“no!” you bark, eyes wide and desperate, which actually silences him in surprise. you are incredibly quick to adjust yourself, releasing a tense chuckle to let it be known that you were on your best behaviour, smile straining your cheeks and not quite meeting your eyes. “scott it’s not that serious, i swear. i’m passing all my other classes, this happens to everyone atleast once.” you figure your tone is reassuring enough, especially as he doesn’t follow you into the kitchen to make your daily green tea.

you spend a little longer than usual in the kitchen as you sip away at your drink, giving your boyfriend time to hopefully forget about the bad grade you received so you could potentially start the evening over, feeling things were a little chaotic. the hot liquid seems to soothe your nerves momentarily too, aiming to leave the day behind as you eventually slink out into the living room, eeking out your distraction as you join scott on the couch.

he’s watching some kind of documentary, naturally manspreading with that concentrated frown like a man much older than he was. you let a mischievous smile slip as you wriggle up to his side, stroking at his arm. this was nothing unusual from your usual behaviour, so scott doesn’t react — continuing on with his show.

“scotty.” you breathe in his ear, beginning to dot kisses gently along his jawline.

“hm?”

“missed you. needed daddy all day.” you pout as a manicured hand rises to rest on his broad chest before sliding slowly down his stomach toward his belt. you nearly jump out of your skin when he grabs your wrist and moves it away.

“no.” he hums, voice low. you blink your wide eyes at him in confusion — maybe you were just spoilt, because it wasn’t often you heard that word so firmly.

“huh?”

it’s only then scott looks at you, raising his eyebrows. “you think i’m gonna reward you for failing a class? you know, if i had been you — i’d already be at the desk with my laptop out, getting to work so i don’t fail my class again.” he’s stern, and whilst you’re used to his blunt ways you’re stunned by how cruel he was being. to him, he wanted the best for you and this was how he showed it in the moment, but to you it was the ultimate rejection.

it’s unnoticeable to the human eye, but he softens when you’re so quick to submit without argument despite his words, bashfully climbing off the couch to silently grab your bag and head to the bedroom where scott’s desk was. he watches you go, arms crossed — before he sighs, closing his eyes. that wasn’t him, it was his father. you didn’t deserve that.

he thinks up what to say to you, standing up to retrieve you approximately seven minutes later. he finds you at the desk where he suggested, laptop open on an empty document, crying quietly into your hands. scott closes his eyes for a moment, taking a breath before starting towards you.

“hey. hey.” his voice is quiet as he scoops you off the chair, replacing you with himself as he cradles you on his lap. “c’mon.” he whispers, feeling you wrack with another silent sob into your hands.

“i’m sorry.” you squeak.

“you don’t have to be sorr—”

“you’re disappointed in me. i’m disappointed in me too i just wanted to forget for a few hours.” you cry like a baby, stripped down to your most vulnerable self and his jaw clenches, mad that he was the one to upset you like this. this relationship shit was harder than it looked.

“hey i’m not, okay? i’m not. i was… hard on you because i think you can be great. okay? i think you are great. most talented girl i know. i don’t wanna get in the way of that, you know?” his large hand slides up your back to pull you closer and he feels you nod.

“i know. i’m sorry i get so upset about stupid stuff. i tried to be a big girl about it. i tried to… start—” you pull away to gesture to the empty document and he breathes out a chuckle, pulling you back to his chest.

“i know. i see… and it’s not stupid. i was mean. you should have kicked my ass.” he shakes his head but hears you giggle against his shirt, likely staining it with tears and mascara.

“next time.” comes out muffled.

“great.” he sarks before pulling you back to mop up your face, trying not to grimace at any snot or drool as he swipes it away with his thumb. “look. get started on… all this tomorrow. i’ll help in any way i can. what do you need right now? hm?” he jogs you on his lap with his knee once to signify that he wants a verbal and decisive answer. you press your lips together, glancing down at his belt once more. “oh yeah?” he confirms in that deep voice that makes between your legs ooze. “still after that?”

you nod, and he squeezes you hip. “alright. i think i can provide.”

[spotaus]

Sighh. Trying to figure out if I'm going to project onto Night again for this next drabble....

[choerypetal]

Love at first sight. / Squid Games!Men

summary; a little prompt for each men in squid game x reader.

also my english isn't my first language so i do apologize for a few errors! enjoys x

including; in-ho, thanos, myung-gi, dae-ho & gi-hun

In-ho: 

Praise yourself for catching In-ho’s attention amidst the chaos of the games. Not only did he manage to maintain his composure, but he also came to terms with the truth—it wasn’t his mind playing tricks on him, but his heart betraying him. He had been ensnared in a dangerous blend of love and death. And no matter the cost, he was determined to ensure your survival, even if it meant faking your death and arranging for the guards to escort you to his shelter.

At first, his actions were subtle—a few fleeting glances, quiet assurances that you weren’t alone. He took it upon himself to ensure someone capable stood between you and danger. This resolve led him to seek out Gi-hun, cornering him with a whispered plea. “I’m not asking for much,” In-ho murmured, his voice low and firm. Gi-hun’s brows knit together as he glanced at you, understanding little of the request but sensing its weight. Though the urge to question why In-ho couldn’t protect you himself lingered, Gi-hun ultimately accepted—he, too, had his own plans to carry out.

Yet, watching Gi-hun hover near you ignited something unexpected in In-ho—a simmering, unanticipated jealousy. His blood boiled harder than he cared to admit.

It was Gi-hun’s proximity to you that set him on edge.

While 001 had extended a friendly hand, In-ho never anticipated him stealing you away entirely. The realization unsettled him, and during the chaos of the Carousel games, panic began to creep in. When he noticed you were nowhere to be found in the room, it nearly consumed him. The thought of losing you made his fists clench, and for a brief, irrational moment, he contemplated throwing a punch at Gi-hun. But it wasn’t until the final elimination, when the doors unlocked, that relief washed over him. There you were���your silhouette unmistakable behind Dae-ho.

In that instant, he didn’t hesitate. Rushing toward you, his breath hitched, words failing him. A shaky exhale escaped his lips, a mix of disbelief and overwhelming relief. He almost laughed—a scoff of incredulity—before pulling you close, his hand instinctively cradling the back of your head. Without a second thought, he leaned in, his lips pressing a firm but tender kiss to your forehead.

“Silly,” he muttered, his voice tight with emotion. “I never should’ve trusted Gi-hun to keep you safe. Damn it, I thought I’d lost you.” The panic in his voice caught you off guard, the weight of his words sinking in. You hadn’t expected such raw vulnerability from him—not now, not like this. A soft chuckle escaped you, an attempt to lighten the moment. “It’s okay,” you reassured him gently. “Dae-ho found me right away and made sure I was safe.”

That revelation gave In-ho pause, but he filed it away for later. For now, none of it mattered. You were alive and unharmed, and that was everything.

The kiss on your forehead wasn’t just a gesture of relief—it was a silent declaration. You were his, and no one—not Gi-hun, not Dae-ho, not anyone—would ever take you from him again.

Thanos: 

Once a retired rapper, Thanos now found himself thrust into a life-and-death struggle. Among his generation, it was no surprise that some idolized him—his presence commanding a respect so intense, it bordered on worship. To them, he was pristine, untouchable. But this adoration didn’t sit well with everyone, especially loners like you, who preferred to navigate the chaos without attachments.

Ironically, that aloofness was one of the many reasons Thanos found himself drawn to you.

In the early days on the island, Thanos made no effort to reveal his interest. If anything, he mirrored your indifference, matching your cold detachment with his own. But when you began spending time with Myung-gi, the dynamic shifted. Thanos hadn’t expected it, nor did he like it. Watching you bond with someone else left a bitter taste in his mouth, awakening a tension he couldn’t ignore. The loner mindset had been his strategy for survival—a simple equation: fewer people, fewer complications. But your presence complicated everything, especially when it came to your effortlessly beautiful face, which he found himself stealing glances at far too often.

It didn’t take long for his resolve to crack.

Thanos had made himself a promise: to keep his distance, to ignore you as you ignored him. But that promise shattered the moment Nam-Gyu let slip a confession Thanos had sworn him to secrecy about. That little fucker, Thanos thought bitterly, though his anger was tempered by necessity—he needed Nam-Gyu to survive. Yet, when the truth reached you, it unraveled him in ways he hadn’t anticipated.

Instead of drawing you closer, the revelation pushed you further away. Your avoidance became more deliberate, more pronounced than ever before. It stung more than Thanos cared to admit. For the first time in a long time, he was unprepared—for your reaction, for the way it tightened a knot of frustration and longing deep inside him.

Which only added more tension between the two of you.

The final games loomed, a trial where survival would demand more than just cunning—it called for a kind of ruthless cleansing. Thanos knew, without hesitation, that when the moment came, he’d be the first to grab your hand and shield you. Even if it meant overreacting, even if it jeopardized his own chances, he couldn’t bear the thought of losing you. Certainly not to Myung-gi, if it came down to that.

“You know...” he murmured late that night, his voice low and almost hesitant. Your back was turned to him, your body stiff on the thin mattress. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, couldn’t even steal a glance. Not after everything. The weight of his breath lingered against the back of your neck, and you flinched slightly, betraying your nerves. His presence, so close and unyielding, was suffocating yet magnetic.

“Tomorrow is... big,” he continued, his words faltering as his gaze shifted across the dimly lit dormitory. For a moment, his eyes locked on Player 333, who sat sharpening a weapon in the corner—a stark reminder of the danger waiting ahead. Thanos clenched his jaw, then turned his focus back to you.

“If we’re not careful...” he trailed off, his voice softening, almost breaking. “Who knows if I’ll ever get to see your beautiful face again?”He exhaled sharply, frustrated with himself, as if admitting even that much was a risk. “I know it’s—” 

Your head snapped toward him, your brows furrowing into a glare sharp enough to cut through the tension between you. For a moment, silence hung in the air, charged and heavy. Then, your voice broke it, calm yet biting. “If you keep this up, you might be the one ending up with a bullet in the face,” you said, your tone so nonchalant it bordered on cute—a contrast that left Thanos momentarily stunned. He blinked, almost scoffing in disbelief, one hand pressing dramatically against his chest.

“Ouch,” he drawled, his lips curling into a grin. “I’m hurt, sweetheart.”

Your eyes narrowed into daggers. “Do. Not. Call me sweetheart.”

Before you could say more, Nam-Gyu chimed in from his corner, a mischievous smirk playing on his face. “I bet she’s in love,” he teased, his words practically dripping with mockery.

Thanos’s cocky grin widened at that, his eyes gleaming with a maddening mix of pride and amusement. The sheer arrogance in his expression made your fingers twitch, itching to slap that smug look right off his face. But instead, you gave him one final glare—a death wish in your eyes, though to Thanos, it looked like the beginning of a love story.

“I bet she is,” he echoed, his voice soft but certain, the words carrying a weight of truth that made your chest tighten. He didn’t try to stop you as you turned and walked away, but his gaze lingered, following every step you took. Oh, how you had him wrapped around your finger without even realizing it. A wimp for you, and you alone.

Myung-gi: 

Everyone knew who Player 333 was—you included. Unlike many in this room who were desperate to claw their way out of debt, you knew Myung-gi only by name. You’d heard the rumors: how he’d gotten his girlfriend pregnant, how his past was littered with mistakes and secrets. But something in you—a stubborn spark of hope, perhaps—whispered that he wasn’t as bad as everyone wanted him to be. Maybe, just maybe, there was more to him than the stories let on.

Myung-gi had noticed you, though. He’d seen the way you were with Jun-hee—the way your smile seemed to ease her fears, how your arms would wrap gently around her petite frame after every game, grounding her, giving her the space to breathe. The quiet strength and warmth you brought to her felt almost unreal, a motherly presence in a place devoid of comfort.

It was that tenderness, that undeniable light, that struck him like a blow to the chest.

Myung-gi was in love.

And he hated every single moment of it.

Why? Because he knew himself. He knew what he’d done to Jun-hee—how he’d left her while she was pregnant with his child, drowning in debt and fear. He’d been a coward, an asshole, and he knew it. That self-loathing festered, a constant reminder of his failures. And yet, it was exactly why he didn’t expect you to see him as anything other than the man he despised.

But fate had other plans.

Your first real interaction with him came after he saved you—something neither of you had anticipated.

It happened during the Bathroom games, where survival left no room for personal grudges. Confronting Thanos wasn’t at the forefront of Myung-gi’s mind, but then he heard it—your name, slipping from Thanos’s lips with such filth that it ignited a rage Myung-gi didn’t know he was capable of.

Everyone knew your past as an escort within the crypto community. Your name wasn’t hard to find, whispered in private conversations and occasionally tied to scandalous wallets. But Myung-gi knew better than to judge. Still, hearing Thanos—the retired rapper—speak of you like that, as though you were nothing more than a commodity, was the last straw.

“She was good for a foreigner. Not many—”

That was as far as Thanos got before Myung-gi’s fist collided with his jaw, cutting him off mid-sentence. The sickening crack of impact echoed through the grimy bathroom, followed by a faint splatter of blood. Myung-gi emerged from the stall alive but seething, his knuckles raw and his breath ragged. As he stepped out, his gaze immediately locked with yours. Jun-hee stood beside you, clinging to your arm for reassurance, but the look on your face was unreadable—a mix of surprise, understanding, and something softer.

A small, almost imperceptible smile crept across Myung-gi’s lips.

In that moment, he made a silent promise: no matter what it took, he’d make sure both of you got out of this alive.

Dae-ho: 

Dae-ho never believed in love at first sight. With everything he’d endured in his life—the trials, the sacrifices, the relentless pursuit of strength—he saw himself as a knight in shining armor, bound by duty but never destined for romance. That belief held firm until he met you.

It happened during the Carousel game. Like In-ho, he’d noticed you before—your stoic demeanor during Green Light, Red Light had left him quietly impressed. The way you moved, swift yet calculated, managing to evade the statue’s unrelenting gaze with precision, was nothing short of remarkable. It was then that something shifted in him. Against all reason, Dae-ho found himself believing in love at first sight.

At first, he thought he was imagining it. He even considered pinching himself, blinking twice to dispel the notion. But the feeling persisted, undeniable and maddening. It wasn’t until later, when you tended to his wounds after one of the brutal games, that he finally saw you up close—and the full weight of your beauty struck him like a blow. Your lashes fluttered delicately as you focused on your task, your fingers gentle but firm as you dabbed rubbing alcohol onto his injuries. He hissed at the sting, his lips parting in a soft groan of pain.

“Be still, please,” you murmured, your tone calm but commanding. Something about the way you said it—the quiet strength in your voice—silenced his protests. He nodded, his muscles relaxing under your care, though the tension in his chest was harder to soothe.

For the first time, Dae-ho felt vulnerable—not because of his wounds, but because of you.

“You know…” His voice was low, almost hesitant, but there was a softness to it that made you pause. You could’ve sworn his lips curved into the faintest smile. “I never would’ve thought I’d see you like this—healing me. Back at the Carousel, I swore to myself I’d keep you close, that we’d find the door as quickly as anyone else. But then… the next thing I knew, Thanos had taken you before I could…”

He trailed off, his words tinged with shame. The vulnerability in his voice made you glance up at him, your fingers stilling as you finished securing the bandage. His eyes widened at your sudden attention, and he immediately began to stammer.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

You interrupted him with a soft sigh, sliding the remaining bandage back into your pocket. “Don’t apologize. We just weren’t lucky, that’s all. I wanted to prove to myself that I could handle it—that I wasn’t just someone who had to count on others.” Your gaze softened as you added, almost reluctantly, “But… I have to admit, not having you there in that room—it was horrible.”

Your quiet confession was enough to undo him. Without a word, Dae-ho wrapped his arms around you, wincing slightly as the movement pulled at his wounds. Still, he didn’t let go. His embrace was warm, protective, and when he leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead, it felt like a promise.

“Nevertheless,” he murmured, his voice filled with a quiet reassurance, “I’m just glad we made it through. That you’re here with me.” His lips quirked into a small grin as he added, with a teasing lilt, “And that I get to cuddle with you for another night.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his words, the tension between you easing for a moment. For now, at least, you both had each other.

Gi-hun: 

Unlike the others, you weren’t a player. But you knew Gi-hun from the previous game he was in. He was so certain you had died right in front of his eyes back then that when he saw the mask ripped off your face—revealing you as one of the Guards—his shock was palpable. Another Guard had been taken hostage by the remaining candidates, and though you could have cursed every word that came to mind, you found yourself frozen, your voice stolen by the chaos.

In-ho was the first to recognize you. He knew you were on shift at this hour, but what he hadn’t expected was the look of sheer horror that crossed Gi-hun’s face when your name escaped his lips.

“Y/N...?” Gi-hun’s voice trembled, disbelief heavy in the air as though he was trying to confirm he wasn’t dreaming.

“You know them?” one of the players sneered, their stolen gun now aimed squarely at Gi-hun. Bodies of your co-workers—faces you barely had time to register—lay scattered across the floor, lifeless, just feet away. The metallic tang of blood filled the air.

But this time, Gi-hun wasn’t about to let anyone lay a finger on you. He remembered the vow you both had made:

"We belong to each other. And I will get you home."

With those words etched into his resolve, Gi-hun made his move. Chaos erupted as the gun exchanged hands, bullets flying. The air was filled with deafening roars of defiance and the sickening splatter of blood.

In the end, In-ho stood back, his heart cold and unyielding, as he watched Gi-hun fall. The final shot rang out, and his lifeless body crumpled to the ground. Blood speckled your cheek, and you stared in stunned silence at the empty shell of a man you had once loved.

From the shadows, a familiar voice cut through the carnage, low and mocking.

“Welcome back home, love.”

You turned toward the source, and there he was Gi-hun—his gruesome smile sending chills down your spine.

[deathbxnny]

Arcane characters when someone flirts with you. | Viktor, Jayce, Vi, Caitlyn, Jinx, Sevika x Gn!Reader

I am the brain rot. The brain rot is me.✨️

Content: pre season 2 Viktor/Jayce!, Jealousy, pitfighter Vi, established romantic relationships, angst, threats of violence/death threats, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》VIKTOR

He always struggled with self-esteem issues, mainly due to his sickness and disability that made it difficult for him to do much. A part of him forever will believe that you could easily do better than him, yet that doesn't stop him from getting terribly jealous anytime someone gets too friendly with you. Especially when they can see him standing next to you clearly being your partner as well.

But despite his insecurities, he doesn't allow anyone to harass you either on his watch. He lets you defend yourself for the most part until he has enough and lets his more sassy side handle the flirtatious person for you. He may not be able to do anything in a physical way, something he very much would rather avoid. But his tongue is sharp, and it takes little to make them quickly scurry away with a nervous apology for the disturbance.

He'll never admit to being jealous, however, and denies any teasing accusations you send his way. But he'll secretly ask for reassurance as he starts feeling embarrassed over his insecurities rather quickly after. A couple of hugs and kisses from your side will fix that right up, though.

》JAYCE

He has a reputation to keep up. And so, technically, he should always handle things professionally no matter what. People are watching him after all, and his public image can not be tarnished under any circumstance... or so he says. Things change in his mind when they are about you. In general, people know who you are and who you belong to since he rarely shuts up about it.

But every now and then, someone who is somehow unfamiliar with this concept will come up to you and attempt to woo you right in front of his very eyes. Now, Jayce tries to let you handle yourself, but doesn't hesitate to step in either if the person doesn't get the hint. His rather intimidating frame and position as a councilor help him out Immensely with this. He chases them away with a tight smile and a kiss to your head, as he casually asks how he can oh so graciously help them.

Once they leave, he'll pretend not to hear you, of you teasingly asking him if he was jealous. Him? Jealous? Hah! Impossible... okay, maybe a little. But don't tell anyone that.

》VI

As a pitfighter, Vi doesn't hesitate to get violent with anyone who comes close to the only good thing she has left in her life, which happens to be you. She's extremely protective and makes sure everyone gets the hint regarding who you belong to. But alas, there are always the couple strays that refuse to comprehend that fact and therefore attempt to "steal" you away from her. Something that never ends well for anyone.

Her temper is shorter than it used to be, and that becomes quite clear when she's quick to loom over the person that was pestering you. She knows that you can handle yourself just fine, too. But that doesn't stop her from grabbing their shoulder and asking them if she can help them out instead. Or maybe they want to talk it out in the pit? All the same to her, but the message is clear. She'll win if it comes to you every time, and that's enough to make the person scurry away in terror.

You'll definitely have to calm her down and reassure that you had everything handled. She's just looking out for you, though, and doesn't want you to get hurt, too, like everyone else in her life. The last thing she wants is to mess up again, so her overprotective tendencies will probably never lessen. Not that you kind anyways.

》CAITLYN

Your role as her partner is crystal clear to absolutely everyone in Piltover, especially after she takes over the troops as their new ruler. She's much more cutthroat and cold than she used to be before her mothers death, which made her extremely overprotective of you and your safety. She may even be suffocating at times with her security measures, but she finds it absolutely necessary. This also means, however, that those who try becoming a bit too friendly with you are always at risk of facing her wrath.

She doesn't hold back with her dismay and is quick to stand before you with a dark, stern glare directed at whoever was flirting with you beforehand. Caitlyn doesn't care if you can take care of yourself or not either. She'll take full advantage of her new position and power too, not hesitating to give the person that was pestering you a professionally worded threat that leaves them as pale as a ghost.

Admittedly, it's hard to tell if she's jealous or just worried in her own way. Before her mother's death, it may very well just be her being a bit jealous... but with her current position, she may also just be afraid to lose you too deep down. And she couldn't handle that.

》JINX

After Silco's death, Jinx's temper is milder than before due to her deteriorating mental health (if there was anything left of it to begin with). She's a lot calmer when handling situations and seeming more calculated than before, but that certainly doesn't quell the extreme abandonment issues in her at any rate. If anything, they've become much worse than before. This means that she'll cling to you and snap at anyone who nears you. No one is allowed to steal your attention away from her. No one can take you away from her. She just won't allow it when you're all she has left.

And so, she won't hesitate to use her gun on anyone who is pestering you. A death threat or two usually gets the point across anyway. Jinx will also let you handle yourself first, however though, knowing you can easily do that. But if things do get out of hand, she will step right to scare them away at best. She'd never kill anyone infront of you after all. She doesn't want to scare you away.

You'll have to reassure her of your loyalty a lot afterward, however, as her insecurities and issues can make her spiral fairly easily. Giving her a lot of attention and love makes everything go away, though, luckily.

》SEVIKA

She's very secure in your relationship and trusts you perfectly fine, which is why she rarely ever gets jealous. Why should she, anyway, when you'll always come back to her at the end of the day? Besides, people in the lanes know who you are and who you belong to, and most importantly, what will happen to their faces once she bashes them in if they ever harass you too much.

With that said, though, she typically lets you do your own thing and chase the person away yourself first before bothering to step in. If things get out of hand, then she'll suddenly be right behind you and tower over whoever it is that's not getting the hint. Blowing smoke right into their faces, she'll ask them if they have a problem, and if yes, then they should take it up with her outside. Although everyone knows she's the only one back afterwards. This usually does the trick.

Don't expect her to ever say that she is jealous, though, and hopes you know better, too. She knows you're loyal, as she certainly is for life and therefore doesn't worry about a thing regarding the strength of your relationship.

No one is better than her anyway.

[lale-txt]

❥ falling asleep besides you for the first time ↳ w/ Toji, Naoya, Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Higuruma, Sukuna & Choso

a/n: this came over me like a fever dream during another episode of insomnia. some of those drabbles are a little sad, i apologize. it's what you get with all those tragics characters. reader is gn!

word count: 1.4k

𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 doesn’t even want to fall asleep; it’s not like he had a good night of rest ever since… well. He tells himself he’s just gonna close his eyes for a bit, stretched out on the couch next to you, his weary head in your lap. There’s still blood on his hands and on the side of his face, he’s gonna get cleaned up in just a bit, he mumbles, but the words come out heavy and drowsy, and your fingers are tangled in his hair now and your voice is this sweet whisper, baby, I love you anyway, and Toji–Toji just gives in. For the first time, sleep doesn’t come over him as a heavy veil, as if he’s drowning; for once it’s something peaceful, something quiet. Something he welcomes. Next to you, you with your fingers woven between his, you who loves even the broken parts of him, you with quiet love and reassurance that you’re still gonna be there when he wakes up again.

𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔𝐌𝐀 hasn’t had another warm body next to him under the covers in a long time. He doesn’t realize how much he missed this until your body melts into his, one leg swung over his thighs, your arm sneaking around his waist and your head finding its spot in the crook of his neck. His cheek falls softly against your forehead when he pulls you closer, breathing in the scent of you that’s the closest to home he ever felt, pressing kisses on the crown of your head. It’s not just lust–oh, he wants to devour you, but there’ll be time in the morning–it’s the absence of loneliness and unspoken confessions. Higuruma can tell when he’s falling in love and in this moment he’s wading deep, deeper through his feelings for you, biting his tongue so they don’t spill out all over the pillows and into you. You already know anyway, and when the sun comes up again, you’ll lick them from the cave of his mouth like a prayer.

𝐍𝐀𝐎𝐘𝐀 can’t fall asleep, not on his wedding night, not when your mouth is whispering all those words he’s demanding from you. His cheek is pressed against your palm while he’s pinning you down, almost nuzzling into it like a touch-starved stray, golden eyes lingering on you. Say you’re mine. Again. Say who you belong to. Mine. Mine. All mine. He isn’t aware how pleading he sounds, how raspy his voice gets the more you obey, every time you sigh his name so softly into his open mouth. Naoya doesn’t care if you’re lying, as long as you wear your wedding band on your ring finger for everyone to see. You’re his to keep now, and if he could have it his way, you would be forbidden to leave this bed forever; he wasn’t aware just how much he had craved the presence of another being by his side at night, one who doesn’t leave once he had his share of pleasure. No, you’re his now, and before sleep eventually finds him, he’ll make sure to sink his teeth into you till his name rolls off your tongue like a lullaby. 

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 doesn’t let go of your hand; he’s afraid it’ll go cold if he allows himself to let his guard down even for one second. This isn’t how he had imagined spending the first night with you. Not under the fluorescent lights of the infirmary, not with your body wrapped in gauze and machinery monitoring your heart rate. It dawns on him as he’s sitting on your bedside–how attached he’s gotten to you, then: How he had almost lost you today. He squeezes your hand tighter and sighs, his weary head sinking down on the mattress. Your fingers twitch and find their way into his hair, combing through it weakly. As if they say, it’s okay, I’m alive, you’re not to blame. So please don’t leave and take all your love with you. And Nanami takes your hand once again and kisses your fingertips, pressing promises against your skin, promises of a future where you and him can just be, one where he can finally put all of these feelings down, down in your open and gentle palms for you to keep.

𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 is clingy throughout the day, but even more so at night. He doesn’t like the eerie quiet that settles in once the sun has sunken, not when he can listen to your steady breathing next to him instead, so naturally he feels a rush of joy when you push your futons together for the first time. His heart is beating way too fast to find sleep now, his eyes taking in everything about your sleeping figure, from the way your chest rises and falls to how your nose scrunches slightly for a moment. Choso wants to know what you’re dreaming about, what colors your dreams are, and if he’s ever in them. He wants to engrave himself into your being, wants to keep you wrapped in his arms forever. His kisses feel light against your skin, careful not to wake you but enough to fill his desire. Choso loves you with his entire being, and sleep is merely an obstacle, cutting away from your time spent together–though he must admit, his eyes flutter shut quite easily in your embrace.

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 realizes that his idea of ‘sweets in bed’ now has a double meaning, seeing you sprawled out in his sheets with candy wrapping paper clenched between your fist and more of it lying on the floor. Cute, he can’t help but murmur as he lays down next to you on his side, mustering you with an amused smile on his lips. When he told you to knock yourself out on the sweet souvenirs he brought, he didn’t assume you would take it that literally. His thumb brushes over the corner of your mouth, collecting some of the powdered sugar that’s still stuck there, and Gojo could swear he never tasted anything sweeter than this when he brings it to his tongue. He gently replaces the trash you hold onto in your sleep with his fingers, woven between yours, and pulls you close to him, his tall figure embracing you; and for the first time in a long time, Gojo feels a wave of calm wash over him, allowing him to exhale and sink into a dream almost as sweet as you.

𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 doesn’t know why he keeps entertaining your antics. Sharing a bed, sleeping together side by side? How utterly foolish, but as to be expected from a mere human; they’ve always been like this, seeking comfort and warmth when they’re the most vulnerable. Of course a predator like Sukuna wouldn’t have to worry about sleeping safe and sound. Yet still; he can’t help but let his gaze linger on you, wrapped up in his embrace, four arms holding you in place on top of him. Everyone else would freeze in fear, but you? You snore quietly without a single worry in the world, knowing you have a king watching over you in your slumber. Sukuna huffs but still brushes a strand of hair out of your face. Maybe he’ll tell Uraume that you’re off the menu, for now. As long as you know your place–in his embrace, wearing his marks with pride, providing a sense of comfort Sukuna had never known before. Fool, he mutters and rests his chin on top of your head, not sure if those words were for him or you. 

𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 doesn’t question when you knock on the door of his dorm room, asking for shelter after a particular nightmare. He hasn’t found any sleep yet anyway. When he lifts up the covers for you to slip under, he’s surprised that you don’t even hesitate to do so, wrapping yourself around his body as if it was molded for that only. Geto can tell that you’re trying not to tremble, but the nightmare still lingers. He knows it all too well. His fingers brush through your hair when he pulls you closer to his chest, as if this could prevent you from falling apart–though deep down he’s aware that he might be the one on the verge of breaking. You know it too, don’t you? Geto is tired, oh, so tired. The kind of tired sleep can’t fix, and he can’t help but wonder if this would also be the last time that you’re in his arms, clinging onto someone who is long gone; a version of him that he shed together with his dream of letting himself love you.

[producedbysohyun]

A Not So Secret Secret pt.2

Kang Dae-ho x pregnant! Reader

Summary: Still trapped in the games, you depend on Dae-ho for comfort and protection as you face the games, sickness, and constant fear.

Warnings: Reader is replacing number 222 but has no correlation with 333, Reader is pregnant, mentions of killing and stuff like that, might be slightly inaccurate, Not proofread.

wc: 3.2k

a/n: This took along time please enjoy!!

Pt.1 masterlist

You wake up. Now your third day of being in the squid games.

As the speaker goes off telling everyone that its morning time you sit up, groaning softly as your neck is aching from using Dae-ho's arm as a pillow the whole night. Your group around you wakes up as well, everyone looking dazed as they still find it hard to process the situation they are in.

Everyone in the game lines up and gets their breakfast, a piece of bread and some milk.

"what kind of breakfast is this" you think to yourself, your hunger really getting to you.

Despite the disappointment of bread for breakfast, you go and sit where your group would usually sit, waiting for everyone in the group to join as well.

You sit there, mindlessly eating your bread until Dae-ho comes and sits next to you.

"Hi baby how are you feeling?' he asks, giving you a small smile.

You just pout. "hungry.."

He frowns before giving you his bread.

"Nooo its fine..." You try to protest, knowing its not gonna get you anywhere.

He smiles "We've been through this already, I'm fine" He reassures you.

You frown and take the bread. You feel so useless, just eating peoples food even though it was offered to you.

"ahh.. actually it's fine really.. you need to eat..." you say as you hand the food back to him, your thoughts getting the best of you.

He looks at you softly before trying to negotiate. "How about we split it? You know what you have right now is not enough for you at all.."

You give in, to hungry to say no, "ok.." You smile as he gives you half his bread, though your piece is much bigger than his.

By now the rest of the group has joined you guys and all of you are just talking about whatever comes to mind, The next game, escaping, the fight that might take place tonight, and stuff like that.

Suddenly, the room starts spinning, and a wave of nausea hits you. You feel your head spin, and before you can react, you quickly push yourself up and speed-walk to the bathroom, trying to keep your balance. Dae-ho calls your name, but you don’t respond, too focused on getting to the bathroom. Once inside, you rush into a stall and throw up everything you just ate. Afterward, you sit on the cold bathroom floor, your back against the stall, too weak to move. The nausea lingers, and you just close your eyes, wishing for it to pass.

"it must just be morning sickness.." you thought to yourself.

Even though you've only experienced it a few times, the games seem to be making it lot worse, most likely due to the amount of stress you're under.

You must've been in there for awhile as the voice on the speaker sounds once again. "please follow the guards to your next game."

You quickly get up, flushing the toilet and running out of the bathroom back over to your group.

Dae-ho looks panicked before he spots you. "Are you ok???" he asks worriedly.

You nod, panting from running so fast. "I just felt a little sick that's all."

The group exchanges worried glances, their faces filled with concern, though there isn't much they can do.

You step into the colorful room with stairs and begin to climb, but each step feels heavier. You struggle a bit, the stairs feeling like a mountain to your exhausted and sick body, and they only get harder as you go. Halfway up, you lose your footing and stumble, nearly falling backward.

Luckily for you Dae-ho was right behind you and quickly put his hands on your waist, steadying you.

"are you ok??" he asks, worry in this voice. "Do you need me to carry you?"

"N-no I got it.. I'm alright.." You regain your balance and continue walking up the stairs.

Dae-ho stays close behind you on high alert just incase you stumble again.

As you guys get to the next game you take in your surroundings. The room has a red circle platform with horses in the middle. A multitude of colorful doors are placed on the walls of the room and the ceiling is almost like one of a carnival tent with white and red stripes on it.

"this game is called mingle." The speaker says.

"Ohh.. we used to play something like this when I was younger, but you would have to get in groups by hugging" Jung-bae says to the group.

You feel a bit more relieved as he says that. At least someone knows what they are doing.

The speaker goes off a again. "all players will stand on the platform and as it spins. When the music stops a random number will be called out. You will have to form groups of that number and go into one of the rooms before the timer is up or you will be eliminated."

After the announcement your group immediately starts talking about what to do.

Dae-ho turns to you. "No matter what just stay with me.. ok?"

You nod, not even wanting to think about the two of you getting separated in a place like this.

Your group manages to get somewhat of a plan before the game starts, the platform starting to spin as some children's song plays.

You tightly grip onto Dae-ho's hand, wanting to insure you guys won't be separated and as you do so the platform abruptly stops.

"ten" the speaker says as a 30 second timer shows up.

Your group of five desperately searches for another group of five but only finds one of four. Suddenly, number 120, a member of the group of four runs off and grabs a random girl.

"we have ten now! Go to room 44! The green door!" she calls out.

All ten of you quickly run into the room, the doors locking soon behind you. Your hand never leaving Dae-ho's.

The ten of you all breathe heavily as the sound of gun shots and people begging for their lives are heard outside of the room.

You lean back against the wall, exhausted and scared. Your hands are shaking like crazy and it catches Dae-ho's attention. His thumb gently caresses the back of your hand, trying to comfort you the best he can in the moment. Then, the random lady starts yelling.

“You’re alive because of me!” She exclaims before turning to Gi-hun, giving him a creepy look. “It seems there’s a reason you’ve survived longer than you were supposed to.” She says as she smirks.

The lady then turns to you and just stares at you creepily for a bit, Dae-ho keeping a close eye on her to make sure she doesn’t try anything.

Then, to your luck, doors unlock and all of you walk out. You cringe as you step in a pile of blood on the floor, but at this point you're pretty used to it.

Everyone gets back on the platform and then, it starts to spin, the song ringing loudly in your ears. Your heart feels like it's gonna beat out of your chest but you try to focus on the game as best as you can.

The platform stops once again. "four" the speaker says.

You all look at each other. There are five of you. You need four.

Gi-hun speaks up, not afraid to sacrifice himself. "you four go-"

"No, go ahead guys." Young-il cuts him off, already walking away, not giving any room for protest.

Gi-hun just stands there before getting dragged away by Jung-bae.

"we have no choice come on!" Jung-bae exclaims to all of you.

You all quickly run into a greyish purplish room. But Gi-hun hesitate to close the door as he's looking for Young-il.

The timer starts to get it it's last seconds before Gi-hun finally closes the door.

More gunshots are heard outside but you don't care at this point, You're just grateful you're alive.

The door soon unlock and everyone repeats the same process.

The platform starts to spin and you stumble a bit. Dae-ho quickly stables you, still holding onto your hand.

you squeeze his hand tighter as the platform stops.

"three" The speaker says.

"you three go- me and Young-il will find one more person!" Gi-hun says urgently.

You, Dae-ho, and Jung-bae waste no time running into one of the empty rooms.

Suddenly a random guy runs into your guys' room and you being the only girl and the weakest, he grabs you and try's to drag you out.

Dae-ho and Jung-bae both react at the same time. Dae-ho gently pushes you behind him as Him and Jung-bae shove the guy out of the room.

You breathe heavily, trying to figure out what just happened before Dae-ho turns around and bends down to your level.

"are you ok?" He asks, eyeing you everywhere for any sort of injury.

You just nod breathlessly and lean against him, putting your head against his chest as the door locks. He gently puts his arms around you, kissing your head softly.

"thank you guys" you say to the two boys with as much gratefulness as possible.

"of course" Jung-bae nods as he breathes heavily.

The doors soon unlock and Dae-ho lets go of you, taking your hand again as the three of you walk out of the room and reunite with the rest of your group.

You all look at each other relieved everyone survived before getting on the platform for what felt like the tenth time.

The song began once again as the platform spun slowly.

"Six" the speaker called out as the spinning stopped.

Your group turns to the group of four that went with a few games ago. You can't exactly tell what they are saying as everyone is yelling. They agree on something and you feel Dae-ho start running somewhere with you and the group of four following behind. He opens a door but the room already has people in it. The people in the room slammed the door shut before the same player from a few games ago, 120, started yelling. "Over here! This room is empty! hurry!"

All five of you started running towards the door and you all got inside on time except number 095 had fallen. 120 tried to go and save her but was shoved back in by some guy and before she could do anything, the doors shut and locked.

You had no idea what was happening all you saw was the young girls eyes from the rectangle hole in the door.

"unnie..." She said, fear in her voice.

"young-mi!" Player 120 exclaimed as she ran to the door, trying her absolute hardest to open it, but there was nothing she could do, the young girl had been shot.

Player 120 immediately went over to player 333, the guy who had stopped her from saving Young-mi, and started yelling at him.

Player 333 snapped back. "If you would've saved her you would all be dead right now! I'm the reason all of you are alive! Am I wrong?!"

You hesitantly spoke up. "He's right..."

Dae-ho soon followed after you, also agreeing.

Player 120 just stayed quiet as the door unlocked and everyone sorrowfully walked out of the room.

You all got back on the platform and Jung-bae turned to Gi-hun.

"what do you think it will be this time?" Jung-bae asked.

"two" Young-il asnwered.

Everyone in the group looked at him with worry. "why?" Jung-bae questioned.

"There are 126 people left, and there are 50 rooms. The rest will be killed." Young-il answered as the platform abruptly stopped again.

"two" the speaker called out.

You had no time to think before Dae-ho grabbed your hand and started running with you to a room.

While you were running some guy without a teammate shoved you and you fell to the floor, your arm going right into your stomach.

Dae-ho reacted quickly, immediately grabbing the guy and punching him before shoving him to give himself some more time to grab you.

You feel yourself being quickly lifted up off the floor and being carried into a room.

Dae-ho sets you down on the floor, the door locking as he looks you over frantically. "baby?? are you ok???"

All you can do is whimper, you had hit your head pretty hard when you fell and your arm had also went right into your stomach.

"Can you talk to me??" He grabs your face softly and makes you look at him.

"my head hurts" you say quietly.

Dae-hos face lights up, happy you can atleast talk, but he still looks very concerned. "yeah? Did you hit it?" he asks with worry in his voice.

You nod as the doors unlock.

He looks at the door before look back at you "can you walk?'

You nod, knowing its probably a lie but you get up nonetheless, slightly stumbling.

Dae-ho puts an arm around your waist. "lean on me baby.." He orders sofly.

You do just that, depending on him to hold you up as the both of you walk out of the door and reunite with your group.

Gi-hun sees the state you're in and looks visibly worried. "are you ok y/n?"

You nod, too out of it to speak.

Gi-hun, not believing you looks at Dae-ho, hoping he'll provide an answer.

Dae-ho just gives him an unsure look and shrugs as they walk out of the game room.

Dae-ho carefully helps you navigate your way down the stairs. "are you sure you don't want me to carry you?"

You nod, not wanting to be a burden on him. "I'm alright Dae.."

He sighs and nods as the two of you make your way down the stairs into the main area.

Your group sat in their usual area while you got some rest. They discussed the vote that would be taking place soon and how they only need seven players to change from O to X to be able to go home.

As the voice form the speaker calls out that the vote is starting, Dae-ho goes over to the sleeping area and softly wakes you up.

You groan softly "Do I have to..."

Dae-ho looks at you softly "yes.. we are voting now.."

You whine and sit up, on the verge of tears as you just want to sleep and go home.

Dae-ho sees this and frowns. "I know baby I'm sorry.." He says as he helps you up.

*time skip to vote*

You all have finished voting and it was 49 X and O 50. There was one person left to vote. Young-il. But he looked very suspicious. You crossed your fingers as Dae-ho put his head in your shoulder, not being able to watch.

*beep*

The buzzer went off and Young-il had voted for X. It was a tie. Everyone from your group sighed in relief. The guard's announced that since it was a tie there would be another vote tomorrow.

A bit after the vote everyone lined up for dinner. Your group sat back in their spot and you just sat in bed and ate. Dae-ho decided to give you some space as your mood wasn't good and he didn't wanna bother you.

As you ate in your bed you could here people yelling and you see Dae-ho in the middle of it. Confused you stand up and try to go over to him but the old lady grabs your wrist, stopping you.

"Please don't get involved..." She says softly.

You sigh and just sit next to her. "what are they fighting over.."

"We were trying to get some of the people that voted for O to vote for X but they just got offended.." She explains.

You just sigh and realize you've eaten all your kimbap.

"Did you eat enough?" The old lady asks softly.

You smile at her. "ya.. this was probably one of the most filling meals since we've got here.."

You and her have a small conversation before Dae-ho comes back over, looking pretty pissed.

"what happened?" you ask him.

He looks at you, his expression softening. "It's nothing baby don't worry about it." he said, not wanting to stress you out anymore.

As your group sat there and talked you ended up falling asleep, using Dae-ho's shoulder as a pillow while he had his arm around your waist, his hand resting on your lap.

You woke up to the sound of the speaker saying players had been eliminated. Confused, you looked at the group. "what happened?"

Gi-hun looked at you and replied. "there must've been a fight."

And he was right. The people on O team soon started saying that X tried to fight them first and the people on the X team saying that O tried to fight them first.

You cuddle closer to Dae-ho, not liking the situation you're in currently. He rubs your side softly as he watches the commotion that is currently going on. While everything is happening, Gi-hun takes the opportunity to tell everyone there is gonna be a fight tonight as how they are all gonna hide until its over and stuff.

You, on the other hand are freaking out, scared for your life, and your baby's. You cuddle into Dae-ho more as he listens to Gi-hun talk and you silently cry. When Dae-ho pulls away to go to the sleeping area, he sees your face.

"hey baby whats wrong are you ok??" He asks worriedly.

"I'm scared..." you admit.

"hey.. look at me.." He makes you look at him. "You know I would never let anything happen to you.. I would protect you with my life..."

You continue crying softly. "But the baby- what if- earlier when I fell my arm hit my stomach really hard so I don't even know if it's ok.."

Dae-ho looks concerned and puts his hand on your bump gently. "Does it hurt at all?" He asks.

"N-not right now but it hurt a lot before-" you stutter.

"Hey.. breathe.. You and the baby will be ok..And I will do everything I possibly can too ensure that.. I promise.." He says softly, now holding your face again.

Your nerves calm down a lot.. You trust him with your life.. you always have so why would he lie now? he would'nt.

He smiles at you and wipes your tears before softly kissing you. You kiss back and it just feels like everything you were scared of before doesn't matter anymore.

Your kiss was suddenly interrupted by the sound of a voice over the speaker, announcing that it was time for bed, followed by the lights flicking off. The abruptness of it snapped you both back to reality, and for a moment, you just sat there, a little dazed. The atmosphere shifted as the intimate moment faded into something more serious. You exchanged a glance with Dae-ho, and without a word, you both made your way toward the sleeping area, the mood now quiet as the both of you sat with the rest of the group and waited for the fight to start like Gi-hun said.

As you all settled in, you felt Dae-ho's arm slip around you, pulling you close. Seeking comfort, you cuddled into him, letting the warmth and safety of his embrace ease your worries. You grew so comfortable, the tension fading, and for a moment, you forgot that danger could be just around the corner. With Dae-ho by your side, you felt secure enough to drift off to sleep, knowing he would protect you. And soon the world outside fading into the background.

a/n: And once again I suck at making endings. but I hope you guys enjoyed! I don't know if ill make a part three unless you guys really want it. But if I did make one I would have to wait till Season 3 comes out or just make up my own ending. what ever you guys prefer!

[lovelyyys]

the reader is a mutant like logan but more cat like which everyone thinks that they would hate each other which is proven wrong by the marks logan leaves on her neck after a wild night

ok i went a little wild with this so uh, enjoy!

(female reader, enemies to lovers? 18+!!!)

For the most part you two were alike. Well. For the most part. You were like him, although your claws didn’t retract from your knuckles. Instead they came from your nails. Just like a cat: People had expected the two of you to get along well knowing the fact that you were similar. When you two first met he simply introduced himself as, “Hi I’m Logan.” As if that would suffice. You didn’t know why he was so lukewarm towards you, almost as if he felt threatened by you. Ego problem maybe?

The team along with you were in the lounge area, everybody talking and drinking after a mission. You stood off to the side minding your own business. Drinking a beer, you didn’t know why. You couldn’t even get drunk since your body filtered alcohol out as poison so maybe you could get tipsy for a millisecond but that was it. You had been looking at a painting in the room, not before feeling the presence of somebody behind you. “How come you don’t drink hard? Like whiskey.” A gruff voice said from behind you that you had immediately recognized as that egotistical jerk. “I don’t like the taste.” You had answered, turning to face him. You looked up at him, staring into his eyes. “That’s a shame.” You didn’t answer, looking at his facial features and such. He took his own cup pressing it to his lips. Downing his drink, before slamming it on the table next to you.

“You know I’m sorry if we got off on the wrong hand. It was just a little weird meeting somebody like me.” Ah. So it was because he has an ego problem. “Yeah I thought so.” You said, not before finishing off your beer and putting it next to his empty glass. “You can’t get drunk right?” He asked you suddenly. You shook your head, “No my healing factor doesn’t allow it.”

“So we’re more alike than I thought.” He laughed, you smiled. Maybe you two were more alike than you two thought. “Uh, you know we’re on the same mission tomorrow.” Why was he even talking to you? “Yeah I saw on the board earlier.” That was the whole conversation.

After the mission you got a nasty cut on your thigh, your suit being cut open. Your leg bleeding. You had gotten back to the mansion. Logan offering to help clean you up. Why not? What could be the worse that could happen? He was just trying to break the ice after all…

He brought you to the medbay, grabbing a bit of gauze and rubbing alcohol. You sat down on the bed, watching him prep the materials. You took off the pants of your suit so he could clean it better. “Come closer.” He said, curling his finger towards you. You shuffled over to him. His breath warm against your body. “This is going to hurt.” He warned, pressing the cold cotton pad onto your skin. The alcohol stinging. His jaw was locked, eyes hardening as he watched your expression as you hissed at the pain. He held his hand on your shoulder to reassure you — not before you muffled your cry’s of pain into his neck. Holding onto his back. Your nails digging in.

The pain was a 10. Possibly an 11. You started panting a bit, whimpering into his neck. In an instant he moved his hand down from your shoulder to your hip in order to steady you. He cleared his throat, his voice a bit hesitant. “Stop moving like that.”

“It hurts.” You cried out. “Just stop.” He whispered in your ear. How were you supposed to? Oh. Oh…

You looked up at him, his eyes meeting yours as he bit his cheek. As if he was trying to hold back from saying more. “Fuck it.” He growled. Tossing the cotton pad in the trash. Moving your legs up onto the table. Getting right in between your thighs, his hands snaking down towards your panties. Tugging them right off as he gripped your legs once more. Putting them to rest on his muscular shoulders. He pushed you down onto the table, going into kiss you roughly. His hands holding your face. “You know I always liked you in a way.” You smirked.

“Well now you know in what way.” He laughed, panting a bit before kissing you again. His tounge exploring your mouth. His hands went to his pants pulling them along with his boxers down. His hard dick jumping out, ready to be inside of you. Ready to fill you up with his cum. Over and over again. So much for introductions.

He grabbed his thick member, pushing it up against your dripping wet pussy. You looked up at him, his face had a smirk on it. You nodded, letting him push up into you, he didn’t take it slow. Wasting no time, rolling his hips before pulling out and thrusting into you as he held your jaw. Forcing you to look at him. You let out a moan. Staring into his eyes. “You like this?”

“Harder. Harder!” You moaned suddenly, his eyes darkening as he fucked up into your sopping wet cunt at a brutal pace. Groaning with every single fucking thrust. He pulled the zipper down from your suit. Your breasts there on display for him to see. He hummed in approval, squeezing on one of your breasts as he continued ramming into you. His cock kissing your cervix, the pleasure overwhelming. The familiar tightening in your stomach building up. “You close?” He asked you. You simply nodded, your breasts jiggling up and down with every thrust. “Me too. Want me to cum inside this pussy?” “Mhm.” He grinned. His pace somehow getting faster as if the pace before wasn’t enough for him. “Cum with me.” He whined. Kissing you once more.

You quickly clenched around him, milking him for all his worth. His hot cum filling inside you quickly. He continued fucking you, the cum leaking out. The overstimulation quickly spreading. “Logan!”

“Be good for me you can take it.” He moaned, sucking on your neck his hips never slowing as he drew out another orgasm from you. Again and again.

His hairy base tickled against your clit, stimulating it. He reached his thumb down rubbing on the bud. “Logan please.”

“Please what? What do you want?”

“It’s too much-.” You whined grabbing onto his dog tags with all the strength you had left. You read it. “Wolverine eh?” You laughed a bit. Moaning. “Shut up. You’re a fucking kitty cat.” He snarled. His thrusts never faltering.

It’s safe to say you didn’t sleep at all that night.

In the morning you were in the kitchen making yourself a coffee to wake up from the nights events. The team there as well making themselves breakfast. You hadn’t noticed the hickey Logan left on your neck until somebody had pointed it out. “Hey what’s that on your neck?” Scott peeped up. You raised your brows a bit looking in the reflection of the coffee machine. “Uh.”

“Something I left for her to remember me by.” A gruff voice said.

That egotistical jerk.

hope you enjoyed !! more to come, xoxo!

[writingangst]

Russian Roulette

Summary: Simon Riley takes notice that the reader has a specific way of reloading her gun, which results in him being paranoid to the point he misreads the situation.

Simon Ghost Riley x Reader

Warnings: violence, angst, cursing, torture, hurt/no comfort.

Words: 2.3K

This was a prompt from Character.AI by user @/kstzii and I had to make this account to post because it really hit the angst spot for me. Hopefully, it does the same for you.

The echo from your sniper rifle was stifled by its silencer as you scored another bullseye. You felt someone's gaze burn into the back of your head. But once you turned, you couldn't see anyone. Must've been my imagination. You reassured yourself as you went back to attempt another shot. No bullets. You quickly reload and reposition yourself to fire off another round.

“What the hell was that?” Your lieutenant's voice called out. You swiftly turned to him. “Reload again.”

“What?” You were caught off guard, the slight hint of a Russian accent slipping out. Shit. You instantly clear your throat to switch back to your usual British accent.

“Are you deaf? I said reload again!” He repeats, his voice booming.

You rearange yourself from your position lying on your stomach, onto your knees, the head of your riffle touching the dirt beneath you. You look at him through slightly narrowed eyes. “Now, why would I reload when I just switched to a perfectly good mag?”

His jaw clenched. You noticied how he was trying to hold himself back. He did this often. You were sharp with your tongue and tended to use it on him often. In more ways than one. Though this time, he didn’t quite seem like he was enjoying it.

“You know exactly what I mean. That was a Russian reload,” he crossed his arms over his chest, the veins in his arms were prominent. It brought you back… No. This was serious.

You laughed it off, seeming unbothered. You were cool. Calm. Collected. Everyone knew you weren’t one to be thrown off your game easily. But this certainley was doing just that. You weren’t about to let him see that though.

With a scoff, you turn your back to him to get a better hold of your gun. “I reckon you haven’t slept, Lieutenant. Could be playing tricks on your sight.”

“I know exactly what I saw,” his tone was cold, but with his clenched fists you knew this was a ticking time bomb. “Do. It. Again.” He ordered in a firm tone. It left no room for any arguments.

You’re stagnant only slightly. There was uneasiness in your stomach at what this could mean. You knew Simon, and you knew Ghost. This was the latter, but you weren’t going to let this play out the way he wanted it to.

“And if not?” You challenge as you turned towards him, eyes sincere as you looked deep into his conflicted ones. “This gonna end in friendly fire?”

In long strides he stepped forward, coming to a halt right in front of you. He pulled you up by your elbow, but you never lost your grip on your weapon. With him being 6’4, you had to crane your neck to look him in the eye. His towering frame was imposing, making you feel small.

He leaned closer, just like he had so many times before. His body only a few inches from yours, but instead of it having the burning effect it usually did, now you were just feeling uncomfortable with the interaction. He was doing this on purpose. He was trying to intimidate you.

“What do you have to lose?” He countered, his voice low, a rumble to his chest.

You took it as a challenge.

With a clenched jaw, you took a step back from him as he severed his grip on your skin. You rid of the magazine wedged within your sniper and your eyes never leave his as you do so. Taking another mag from your tactical gear, you shift to do a simple tactical reload.

He watched you intently, his eyes glued to your every move. You didn’t break a single swet. And even though it seemed like something inherently intimate, you knew it was everything but. Once you finished and kept your straight face on him, he stepped towards you again.

He looked pissed as his eyes flickered to the mag that you just placed into your gun.

“That…” he stated through gritted teeth, gripping your chin with force between his thumb and his forefinger. You were forced to look at him head on. “…isn’t a British reload. Now tell me, who are you really?”

“I’m a simple sniper, sir,” you reply without skipping so much as a beat. “I was chosen for this task because of my outstanding sniper skills.”

Silence ensued.

Then you continued. “But you knew that already. You read my file,” you hissed back at him. “And you’ve trained with me for months, been in my bed, so what exactly are we implying here, Lieutenant?”

He kept his grip on your chin, his fingers digging into your skin. You noticed how he continued to get frustrated that nothing was out in the open like he previously thought it was. He expected you to be defiant, not secretive. A piece was missing and he was paranoid. Something wasn’t right.

Suddently, you’re smashed against the closest tree and your rifle was hitting the ground. You wince as a gruff pained noise falls from your lips once the air is knocked out of you. His vast hand squeezed your neck. Not enough to cut your air supply. Yet. But enough for it to be uncomfortable to breath. There was a sense of betrayal in his eyes and you knew he had assumed the worst.

“You’re a lying Russian spy,” he murmured into your ear with such force you thought you’d faint.

You struggled against him. “I am not Russian, nor am I a spy,” you rasp out as best you can, but you feel him crushing your windpipe. You wouldn’t lie to yourself. You feel hurt. He was one of the closest people you had since joining the 141 task force. Which made you angry. That’s when hurt vacated to make room for the feeling of deception. “But I will not explain myself to you when I have a job to do.”

You attempted to push him off but he was stronger and bulkier than you, making it almost impossible. You understood there that there would be no reasoning with him. Sleep deprivation and high stress levels were obvious indicators of this. You both had been on the field for days, and he had been the one doing most of the lookouts in order for you to get a bit of shuteye. You won’t be a good shot with heavy lids, sweetheart. He once said to you.

“What were you sent to do, huh?” He asked, his voice had lost its edge and now he just sounded distant. “Spy? Assassinate me?”

“Paranoid motherfucker,” you hissed, holding onto his forearm to steady yourself against his grip. “Screw you.”

His eyes narrowed, his grip loosening only slightly. “You sound surprised. You can’t honestly tell me that you expected me to not investigate the mysterious sniper with a Russian reload and accent?”

“And I’m almost certain you couldn’t find a Goddamn thing about anything and that’s why you got me cornered,” you stated as a matter of fact. “I’m not whoever the hell you think I am, and this paranoia is serving to have this mission go south if you don’t let me get to my gun.”

He laughed this time. Honestly, laughed.

You scrunched up your nose. Fuck you, Ghost.

“You don’t think I have dirt on you, sweetheart? I have files on you, more than you can count. I know you, better than you think,” he paused for a second. “I know your weaknesses, likes, dislikes. Everything.”

You laugh bitterly. “I don’t doubt that. Hey, I even had a hand in the shit you know because I trusted you. That still doesn’t mean you know jack shit about what happened in Russia. You’re so inclined? Ask Price!”

“I asked Price!” His hand gave your neck a quick squeeze and you saw how his body trembled. “He didn’t know a damn thing. Said your file was locked and he was denied access. Now why the hell would that be, huh?”

You snorted. “He said that to protect me. I had the whole record wiped. None of this concerns you, Lieutenant. We all went through shit, and you think you’re the only one that’s allowed to be a ghost? Fuck you!”

His eyes narrowed at your words. “Why would he protect you if you have nothing to hide? That makes no sense and you know it.”

“Because my trauma is my trauma! And you have no business budding into it!” 

“And if it’s something that could jeopardize the entire task force?” He muttered, his patience wearing thin. “If it could get everyone killed?”

“You’re an idiot if you think Price would let me anywhere near this damn task force if he considered me a risk,” your voice was cool, but your heart was thumping in your chest. You attempting one last shove that surprisingly caused him to let go. You wheezed when the pressure was off your trachea and you coughed to catch your breath. 

He watched you silently.

Once you composed yourself, you looked back at him as you held your neck. “I thought we were fucking friends, Ghost.”

“Friends?!” He spat exasperatedly. “You really think I would consider you my friend when I know you’re lying? You think I make friends with people I don’t trust?” His eyes were cold, his tone cruel and bitter. “Tell me why I shouldn’t put a bullet between your eyes for the simple deceit.”

Aside from the pain emitting from your neck, there was a hollow ache in your chest that was capturing your attention as well. You would relive the trauma if that would mean getting the job done. But when it came to Simon Riley, he was as good as dead to you.

“I was held hostage by Russian forces for 18 months.”

His stance faltered at that. You don’t think you had ever seen him lose his footing like he had in that instance. And his eyes… Christ, he had never changed his expression so fast. What the hell was that? Pity? He could go screw himself.

You continued. “Anything you can think of in torture, triple that. What kept me alive for so long was the fact they wanted to use me. The only way I got out of the constant abuse was the training. So excuse me if I picked up on a thing or two. Even the Godawful accent that creeps into the British one,” you cleared your throat. “I’m not your enemy, Ghost. But you’re right. I’m not your damn friend either.”

As you explained your past, his eyes never left yours as he listened carefully. He expected many things, but he hadn’t taken into consideration you being a literal prisoner to Russian forces. For once in his life, he was speechless. The thought that you had lived through a year and a half of torture at the hands of the Russians was something he could barely imagine.

His gaze had softened, but he hardened again when something wasn’t clicking for him. “Doesn’t explain why your file is locked.”

You snorted humorlessly. “Ever heard of Price’s little sister?”

His eyes widened at the mention of her. The captain was hush hush about the matter, but it was a well known fact he had family within the military. And that she was KIA some time ago. “What about her?”

“You’re looking at her.”

Those were the last words he expected to come out of your mouth. Shock and surprise flashed behind his mask as he finally realized what this meant.

“You’re…” He paused, trying to process the bomb that just exploded in his face. “You’re Price’s sister?”

“In the flesh,” you replied with the same cold tone he had been using earlier with you. “You’re not the only one trying to be ghost. You’ve just never been questioned by the task force on it like you just did to me.” 

What could he say to that?

“I took a bullet for you, Lieutenant,” you reminded him. “What fucking spy does that for the opposite team?”

His jaw clenched and you saw how his mask flexed due to it. His eyes showed how he replayed that memory in his head. It was something he thought about constantly. You had saved him, and he hadn’t seen it coming. He had been so focused on you being a spy that he hadn’t stopped to consider that you were actually on his side.

“I never should have questioned you,” he admitted, his voice quiet as he met your gaze again.

Your hand shot up to stop him from saying anything else on the matter. “It’s done. We’re done here.”

He watched as you walked away to pick up your gun, his mind racing with thoughts but they were too fast for his tongue. He knew he had messed up. He had completely misjudged the situation with the accusations thrown at you when in reality your connection to the task force was stronger than even his.

The irony in the situation wasn’t lost on him, but he didn’t find it funny.

“Wait,” He sighed, taking strides to catch up to you.

“This is unprofessional, Lieutenant,” you stated, dusting off your weapon as you checked for any malfunctions. “We’re in the middle of an active operation. I’m done talking.”

He exhaled a frustrated sigh as you dismissed his attempt at talking to you. He knew you were right, that the mission was what mattered now. But he couldn’t help the feeling that he needed to apologize. It was clawing at his chest, the emotion raw in his throat, asking to be let out in word vomit.

“You can’t honestly expect us to just ignore what happened and continue on like normal?”

Silence followed.

You didn’t even look at him.

“Go back to being Ghost, because Simon Riley is fucking dead to me.”

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

Hii! I love love love all of your finnick fics! Could I please request a fic where reader is also a victor from an earlier game and she is in an established relationship with Finnick. They both get reaped (not the same district) for the 75th games and reader gets critically hurt in the part where the cornucopia spins. Like she falls into the water after maybe being injured and she can’t swim, so Finnick has to risk everything to save her life.

I’m really looking for like a hurt/comfort with a seriously injured reader and Finnick going through hell to save her because he cannot imagine a life without her in it.

Thank you so much if you’re willing to write this or something like it, feel free of course to change anything to your liking!

two souls, one heart | f. odair

masterlist

summary: finnick refuses to lose the love of his life. your inability to swim complicates things, especially when the cornucopia begins spinning.

pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader

warnings: pre-established relationship, heavy angst, drowning, death, bone fracture

notes: thank you so much!!! i really enjoyed writing this, shed a few tears but still enjoyed it lmao. listen to 'beginning of the end movement v' by the newton brothers on repeat for the full experience <3

A quiet nursery rhyme was being sung by the water's edge.

The calm waves around the Cornucopia lapped at the rocks, the blistering sun causing the surface to sparkle. Wiress' voice interrupted Peeta as he mapped out the arena's clock-like wedges in the dirt. Everyone was focused on the map; you should have been too.

Dark blue ripples had your eyes captivated. So tranquil. So hauntingly beautiful. Loving the sea was in your blood, as your District Four was your home. You would think coming from a fishing district would mean your swimming abilities were mastered. In reality, they were practically non-existent. No matter how many times Finnick had attempted to give you lessons, they never stuck.

Neither of you seemed to care though, always too enraptured by simply being in each other's company—feeling Finnick's hands support your body as you floated on the surface...

"Don't you let go of me, Finnick Odair, or I swear to god I'll drown you."

"Will that be before or after you drown first?" he chuckled, though ultimately tightening his grip on your body in an attempt to reassure you.

....hysterically laughing when he got wiped out by a sudden wave...

"No way! I can't—" You broke into a fit of laughter— "I can't believe that just happened!"

"Are you laughing at me, sweetheart?" Finnick asked, trudging through the water towards you, his hair drenched and swept across his forehead.

"Yes!"

You doubled over, knees buckling as you struggled to contain your laughter. Despite trying to put up a serious front, Finnick too let a few chuckles slip at the hysterical sight of you.

"Oh really?"

Just like that, his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you down into the cold water, earning him a squeal just before you crashed together below the surface.

...and washing up on the sandy shore in each other's arms, salty lips capturing one another.

"I'm covered in sand," you murmured against Finnick's lips.

He gave you another kiss before pulling away. "It's okay," he said, pecking your lips again. "I'll help you wash off in the shower when we get back." And then sent you a stomach-flipping grin.

Even though you wouldn't trade those memories for the world, if you had known your life would soon depend on the ability to swim, you would have paid much more attention to the lessons.

Finnick stood closely beside you, his trident digging into the dirt as he gripped it tightly in case of an attack. He had noticed your drifted attention, observing the way your eyes stared at the rippling water, like death was lurking just beneath the surface waiting to drag you down to the murky depths.

He could protect you from most things in the arena, but fear was something entirely different. A trident couldn't defeat the darkness in your mind.

A hand slid onto your lower back, rubbing gentle strokes to gain your attention. Your gaze tore from the blinding blue and settled onto Finnick's face beside you, watching his mouth curve into a light smile. You knew the silent words he was trying to convey: 'You're okay, sweetheart. I've got you.'

For a fleeting moment, the anxiety had disappeared. How could anything ever go wrong with Finnick by your side? The corners of your mouth quirked, preparing to send him a smile in response. But it never came. Something new had caught your attention. The woman by the water was no longer singing.

Wiress had been murdered.

The second Katniss let her arrow fly into Gloss' chest, everything around you seemed to explode into action. Anything that could go wrong would go wrong—Murphy's Law. And it did.

The Careers had initiated an attack.

Charging forward from the waterside was Cashmere, determined to avenge her brother's death. Instinct quickly kicked in and the spear in your hand was sent barrelling through the air and into her chest. As you watched her body slump to the ground, an enraged yell came from the side.

Finnick was fighting Brutus.

With your only weapon lodged within Cashmere's chest, aiding Finnick was impossible. Enobaria revealed herself beside Brutus, displaying her vicious fangs and throwing a dagger that sliced a small cut across Finnick's shoulder. Though the wound was minor, your heart lurched as he cried out in pain.

Before a single thought in your brain could form, your legs were moving. Not towards Finnick, but after Enobaria. Remember who the real enemy is—screw that. Finnick could have died. Your Finnick. He called out your name, his voice hoarse and frayed, but you continued on, hatred fuelling each step. It seemed Katniss and Johanna had the same idea, following behind you with their weapons bared.

Salt water sprayed onto your face, but you paid it no attention. Nor did you notice as the jungle surrounding the island began to blur into one overwhelming hue of green. Only when your body was thrown to the harsh rocky terrain did you realise what was happening.

The Cornucopia had started to spin.

Nothing could compare to the terror you felt as gravity's merciless force dragged your body toward the violent waves surging against the rocks. Just as your lower legs breached the edge, a hand grabbed onto your own. Katniss. She too was hanging onto Johanna whose only lifeline was an axe buried in the rocks.

A moment—that was all you were given to scan your surroundings. Supplies and sharp-edged weapons were flying everywhere. White water was spraying into the air. Finnick, who was thirty feet away, was gripping onto a rock ledge whilst keeping Beetee from sliding into the furious waves. His head turned to the side and even from a great distance, your eyes met.

It was at that moment you knew, you just knew the odds weren't going to be in your favour. God forbid you lived a simple happy life with the man you loved, days spent together on a calm beach. God forbid the Gamemakers gave you one last chance to be in his arms. God forbid you survived.

And with that sudden realisation, the universe, sick as it was, decided it was time.

Your hand began slipping from Katniss's; an unseen tear fell from your eye, and you smiled. A smile of goodbye sent to the love of your life. His face contorted into one of agony, lips moving but you couldn't hear his voice over the roaring waves. Still, you knew exactly what he was shouting.

"NO! NO!"

There was nothing he could do but watch your body disappear into the waves, repeating over and over "no, no, no," and praying his cruel eyes had deceived him. They hadn't.

Dark blue was in every direction you looked. The undertow tossed and rolled your body like a ragdoll in a washing machine and despite your attempts to swim, the surface only seemed to be slipping further and further out of your reach. Darkness engulfed you, so thick that you couldn't tell which way was up or down. That was when the panic set in.

Your arms and legs thrashed frantically, struggling against the water's force, desperate to reach safety or an air pocket. Cold water flooded your throat as you gasped uncontrollably. You screamed as every attempt at breathing felt like fire burning in your lungs. Finnick. Where was he? Where were you? What was happening? Why wouldn't it stop?

Thoughts submerged your mind in terror, and you were powerless to stop them. All you could do was feel. Pain. Fire. Burning

At some point, the Cornucopia had ceased its spinning and your body came to a rest in the water. An eerie calm suddenly washed over you; a sense of clarity stilled your wild movements. This was the end. There was no future. No hope. The world above wasn't yours to call home anymore. You now belonged to the sea.

Of course, your water-logged mind had forgotten that home was where the heart was, and your heart was still beating... above the surface, in the aching chest of another.

Tendrils of hair floated around your face like fronds of seaweed. Rays of sunlight penetrated the surface, turning the surroundings a vibrant sparkly blue. As you sank further down, the water, now a comfortable lukewarm, cradled you in its embrace. It felt safe, like being in Finnick's arms again. Like home.

You gazed at the sun's rays; they looked beautiful. You felt beautiful. But time was running out and the bright light soon began shrouding your entire vision, though not before you witnessed a dark figure dive beneath the waves.

**********

Finnick loved the ocean. He spent most days in District Four down by the beach, swimming, spearfishing, and watching the sun rise and set on the blue horizon. If he believed in reincarnation, he would have imagined himself to be a lionfish or dolphin in his past life, living in an underwater world, free from tyranny and oppression. He loved the ocean.

But that love was incomparable to what he felt for you. So, when he dove into the rocky waters to save you and felt the currents fighting against him, he determined there was nothing he hated more than the ocean. Not as he watched its strong grip drag your motionless body further down below him.

Your back had just touched the soft seabed when he swam far enough down to envelope you in his embrace. He should have swum you back to the surface immediately, but in his distressed state, he couldn't help but foolishly stare at your lifeless appearance. Your skin was blue. It's just the water's colour, he told himself. Your eyes were closed. She's just asleep. Your neck didn't pulse under his touch. She's... She's...

He had no justification for that. Feet planted firmly on the sandy floor, he propelled both himself and you back up to the surface. As Finnick paddled back to the Cornucopia, the others reached down and helped lift your limp body onto the rocks.

"Is she...?"

"Peeta," Katniss quietly reprimanded him.

Finnick paid them no attention. He said nothing but trauma screamed in his eyes. His breathing was ragged and his hands were trembling as he frantically checked your pulse again—in both your wrists and your neck; he even pressed his ear to your chest. All he heard was the waves lapping against the rocks.

"No," he whispered again.

It seemed to be all he could say anymore. No. No, this couldn't be happening. You were just standing beside him a few minutes ago; your eyes were just looking into his. However much he tried to deny reality, it didn't seem to make it any less true. You were gone.

He choked out a rough determined breath, interlocked his hands over your chest, and began pressing repeatedly over your heart. Wet strands of tangled hair were strewn across the rocks like dead seaweed. The usual soft pink accompanying your cheeks was nowhere to be seen, devoid of any life.

"Come on, sweetheart," he muttered before pulling down your chin to blow air into your lungs. The kiss of life. And when nothing happened as he pulled away, he restarted the chest compressions. "Oh, don't do this to me," he begged, voice breaking. "Don't do this. Breathe."

Any moment now. Any moment, your eyes would flutter open, the colour would return to your glowing skin, and your heart would beat with life beneath his hands. Your lips would whisper his name and he would pull you into his arms, where he would keep you safe until the end of time.

"Breathe."

Thirty compressions. Two breaths. Nothing. He did it again. Thirty compressions. Two breaths. Silence. Maybe he should've just ripped his heart out and replaced yours with his own. Death would come for him within seconds but hearing something beating inside your chest would've made the sacrifice worth it.

Life would flash before his eyes and your beaming smile would be the last thing he'd get to see. His last thought would be of relief that you were alive.

Johanna rested a tentative hand on Finnick's shoulder. "Finnick, she's—"

"No, she's not!" he exclaimed, continuing his movements. "She's fine. Aren't you, baby? You're fine." He cupped your jaw, his thumb stroking your soft skin before he pressed his lips to yours and blew twice. "You're fine."

The golden bangle around his wrist glimmered in the sunshine as he pressed on your ribcage. All he had to do was keep you alive until Plutarch rescued everyone. One simple task and he failed.

"Finnick, we have to go," someone said. Who? He didn't know nor care.

Leave me, he wanted to say. Leave me here to die. Let the Careers mutilate my body, take my life, my last breath, but let it be by her side.

Something cracked beneath his palms and he knew one of your ribs had fractured. His arms stilled, half-expecting you to cry out in pain but then he remembered. And with that sickening crack came a devastating realisation—you really were gone.

A sob erupted from his throat and his head fell to your chest, drenching your already-soaked wetsuit with hot tears. Everything else seemed to disappear. The arena, the Careers who could attack again at any moment, the spectators who were avidly watching. Everything.

It was just him and you. He didn't care that his screams and deafening sobs could bring unwanted attention or jeopardise the group's safety. Any tribute with half a mind would know crossing him in such a state would be a fatal flaw. Even if they did, it wouldn't matter. Nothing mattered. Life no longer had meaning.

Finnick pulled your lifeless body onto his lap and cradled you protectively in his arms, lightly rocking back and forth. His forehead rested against your own, cold and damp. You always were the cold one, needing his touch to light a fire beneath your skin. He loved having you rely on him for warmth, but not like this.

"Come back to me, baby, please," he begged almost inaudibly. Tears were running down his cheeks as he brushed pieces of hair away from your face. His lips were on yours once more, heartbroken and painfully delicate; not to fill your lungs with air, but to fill your heart with his love in the hopes it would be enough to bring it back to life. "Don't leave me."

Pleas, prayers, begs, and wishes flew past his lips, over and over. And then they stopped and Finnick simply stared. Silence fell across the entire arena. The birds didn't chirp, the other tributes remained quiet, and the trees stood still. Even the water had calmed, resembling a perfectly flat mirror.

Finnick only had three words left on his tongue. Three final words to give you, wherever it was that you were. He slowly leaned down, squeezed his stinging eyes shut, and pressed a long farewell kiss to your forehead. His eyes remained closed as he parted from your skin, unable to take another look as he whispered his final goodbye.

"I love you."

And then, for the first time since he had rescued you from the blue depths, he felt his heart beating again. Just like yours was.

**********

There was a voice, distant yet reassuring—a lifeline to consciousness. Black was all there was. Coldness was all that was felt. It was desolate. But that voice... that voice was so anguished yet so familiar and encouraging that it lit a fire inside your chest, warming you from the inside out.

In the distance of the dark void was a figure, their body made entirely out of a pulsating golden light. Each word the voice spoke enhanced the light's brightness. "Come... me, please..." Brighter. "Don't leave..." And brighter.

The light was warm and comforting, just like the voice attached to it. Whoever's voice it was that brought the light resonated deep in your mind, tugging at the strings within your heart.

Your heart.

The thumping in your chest was weak, almost non-existent, but it was still there. Though it seemed time was running out. Pitch-black darkness outweighed the golden light ten-to-one; you could feel its cold breath creeping onto your back. So, you started running towards the figure. Sprinting. Until all that surrounded you was golden.

"I love you."

Water. At first, it came trickling out in two fluid streams from the sides of your mouth. Then suddenly, it was spraying into the air as choked coughs forced the liquid from your burning lungs. Light flooded your vision—not golden and inviting, but vivid and overwhelming.

There was something warm beneath your legs, against your arm, rubbing at your back, holding you in an upright position. While you heaved, dry-retched, and gasped, that soothing warmth remained.

As your airways began to clear and the expulsion of water ceased, your half-lidded eyes rolled around the area. Still dazed and disoriented, you struggled to make out what surrounded you. There was immense rippling blue, vibrant hues of green in the distance, dark rough grey beneath you, and elongated blobs of colour that stood a few feet away.

"Just–just keep breathing, sweetheart." That voice. The one belonging to the figure of light that brought you back. It was madly repeating the same words over and over. "You're okay", "Deep breaths", and "You're alive."

Shaky fingers brushed the stray wet strands of hair from your face. So warm. With the little energy you had, your head turned to seek out the golden light again. And you found it.

The blinding sun shining down reflected off his bronze hair, turning it a divine golden hue. His brows were raised and scrunched together as though he couldn't possibly believe what he was seeing. Deep lines were etched into his tear-streaked skin, evidence of his previous turmoil. Those sea-green eyes stared at you, afraid that if he so much as blinked, you would fall lifeless in his arms once more.

"You're here," he whispered.

Finnick. YourFinnick. Your light.

When your eyes met, a splitting grin lit up his face, made up of an inconceivable amount of raw emotion. You weren't sure what to do—smile, laugh, cry, kiss him? Your mind was scrambled, overwhelmed with love for the beautiful golden-haired man in front of you.

Without warning, your face scrunched up and the tears began flowing. You weren't sure why you were crying. Maybe it was because you had just been brought back from the brink of death; maybe it was because you couldn't believe someone actually cared so deeply about you.

Finnick cradled your face in his hand. "It's okay," his voice trembled, tears now cascading down his cheeks. His smile, however, never disappeared. "You're okay. You're safe now. I'm not letting you go."

He took your face into two large hands, brought you to his lips, and pressed a tender kiss to each tear that rolled over your skin. One of your hands rested over his; the other was placed against his chest, feeling it rise and fall so you could synchronise your breaths.

His arms moved to pull you tightly against him, almost like he was trying to merge your body with his. Or perhaps, it was your soul. You didn't care about the pain aching in one of your ribs. You wanted to tell him that his soul was already intertwined with your own, but words couldn't describe the sentiment as profoundly as you felt it.

In the simplest of terms your water-logged brain could muster, you whispered, "You're my light, Finnick."

Brows scrunched together, he looked down at you, fighting back the urge to start sobbing in your arms. If he had been anywhere else, if there wasn't an entire country watching, he would've gone on for hours, explaining how stupidly, selfishly, and incredibly in love with you he was.

But he couldn't do that. Not now. So, he placed his hand over the one you had resting on his chest and readjusted its position. He could feel the thumping, even through your palm.

Your eyes were full of emotion as you stared up into his. You already knew what his next words were going to be and for the first time since you were thrown into the water from the Cornucopia, you smiled.

Rhythmically, your hand and his pulsed together. Finnick's gaze flickered across your face and he grinned. "You're my heart."

[hoshifighting]

hi sweetie!<3, hope you are doing fine.

can i request svt angry sex?, idk, it has been on my mind lately, that's the thing.

angry sex with seventeen

WARNINGS: face slapping, slighty anal, fingering, clit stimulation, overstimulation, edging, deepthroat, chocking, slut/bitch shamming, crying, fight, begging, overwhelming...

seungcheol’s anger is real. he’s not one for degrading names, but he makes you kneel and beg for your orgasm, clasping your hands together. “beg,” he commands, you do, and when he finally takes you to the bed, it’s rough, almost careless. he spits for lubrication, sliding into you without preamble. you gasp, desperate to hold in any sounds as he thrusts relentlessly.

jeonghan tries to solve fights with angry sex. it’s a chaotic mess of slaps to your face, your pussy, and overstimulation until you’re begging for him to stop. “you’ll take it,” he snarls, pushing you to your limits. the aftermath is quiet, with him waiting for your egos to cool down before apologizing. “you need to learn your place,” he murmurs, his hands firm on your hips.

joshua’s gentle nature disappears in bed. he holds you down when you squirm, slaps your face when you scream, and bites you when you cry. his cock is pressed to the brim inside you as he demands you to say sorry, slapping you until you get it right. “say it properly,” he hisses, his eyes cold.

junhui feels conflicted, his actions alternating between slapping you and asking if you’re okay. reassured, he continues, surprising you with sex toys. “you’re okay, right?” he checks, even as he’s rough and relentless, ensuring you leave the sex marked and satisfied.

soonyoung’s anger translates into an exhaustive session of every position imaginable, circling your clit until you think it will fall off. your apartment fills with your combined screams, the fight forgotten. later, he cries, regretting solving things this way. “i didn’t want to do this,” he sobs, holding you tightly.

wonwoo is a ticking time bomb. when he finally explodes, there’s no time for preamble. he presses your face against the wall, fucking you roughly. “you’re such a slut,” he growls, his degradation only stopping when you collapse, unable to hold yourself up. afterwards, he’s full of whispered apologies, remorseful for his outburst.

woozi is methodical in his anger. he locks you in a headlock, fucking you from behind while his fingers torment your clit. “you’re such a brat, you never learn” he scolds, relentless until you’re crying after your orgasm. his heart shatters at your tears, but his anger needed an outlet.

minghao dislikes angry sex but knows everyone has limits. when you push him, he denies you the pleasure you seek, edging you without letting you cum. his quiet intensity leaves you desperate and frustrated. “go to sleep,” he says coldly, turning away. the next morning, he wakes you with oral, finally letting you cum as you apologize. “good girl,” he praises softly.

mingyu uses his size to his advantage, throwing you around like a rag doll. he calls you names he’d never use otherwise. “you’re such a bitch,” he snarls, slapping your ass until it’s red. when you’re exhausted and dirty, he kisses you, soothing the sting of his words with tenderness.

seokmin refuses to let you kiss or touch him, only allowing you to cry, moan, and whimper. “just cry for me,” he fucks you in all fours, his nails marking your hips as he slides a finger into your other hole, knowing you love it but are shy about it. he loves seeing you sheepish after saying so many angry things to him. “look at you now,” he taunts, a smirk on his lips.

seungkwan overstimulates you to show how easily he can make you cum, finding your clit in seconds and pistoning your g-spot with talented accuracy. he doesn’t stop until you’re soft in his arms, your sharp answers replaced by soft n' tired whimpers. “remember why you’re like this,” he says, his voice firm.

vernon is quiet, his actions speaking for his rage. he grips your ass brutally, chokes you until you’re slapping his arm for breath, and makes you deepthroat him until your spit is dripping down your face. “take it,” he commands, his eyes dark with anger, something veryrare to see.

chan is a little shit, continuing to bicker even during sex. “you think you’re so smart,” he loves seeing you angry, giving sharp answers until he thrusts so deeply you’re left speechless. “i’m talking now,” he says, a smug grin on his face. “you’ve talked enough.”

[lizziesangel]

Request <3 Rafe asks Reader out and despite knowing of his turbulent reputation and arrogance, something in her says yes, even though she is hesitant to go. On the date, she interprets something he says as rude and storms out of there. Maybe there is a tiny little argument and rafe being sad in the sense of ‘’you have already made up your mind about me and how you expect me to act, you think I’m awful so your looking for those faults. I’ve always wanted to get to know you and I had hoped you could see me for me but clearly u think I’m bad like everyone else’’ but u kno….reader feels awful….happy end

oooh. this is gooood, had fun making this!!

+8.6k words

kie’s bedroom was buzzing with the sound of music and laughter as you sat cross-legged on her bed, your hair done, and a nervous flutter in your stomach that refused to settle. kirara was kneeling in front of you, focused intently on your makeup, her tongue poking out slightly as she concentrated.

“hold still, or i’m going to smudge your eyeliner,” she warned, her tone light but commanding.

“i can’t help it,” you said, laughing nervously. “what if this is a disaster?”

“it won’t be,” cleo chimed in from the chair near the window, her accent thick and her legs stretched out and her phone in her hand. “and if it is, we’re just one call away, sweetheart. you say the word, and we’re pulling up to rescue you.” she flashed you a wink, making you laugh despite yourself.

“okay, sit still, or i swear i’m going to stab you in the eye with this eyeliner,” kiara muttered, holding up the pencil like a weapon.

“i’m sitting still!” you protested, trying to stifle your nervous energy as she grabbed your chin and tilted it up.

“you’re fidgeting,” cleo said with a laugh. “girl, you’re more nervous than a cat in a room full of rocking chairs.”

sarah, sprawled out on the bed with her own cold curling iron abandoned beside her, propped herself up on one elbow. “okay, but like, seriously,” she said, her tone shifting to something softer, “i know he’s my brother, but... just be careful, alright?”

your gaze met hers in the mirror, and you could see the concern in her expression. “i mean, i love him. i do. but rafe’s... complicated,” she added.

“that’s an understatement,” cleo muttered under her breath.

“wow, that’s super reassuring, sarah,” kiara said, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she dabbed highlighter on your cheekbones. “way to hype him up.”

“i’m serious!” sarah insisted, crossing her arms. “i love him, and all, but he’s very complicated. you should know that before you—”

“get in too deep?” cleo cut in, smirking. “don’t worry, sweetheart. we’re just one call away if things go sideways.”

“i know,” you admitted, fiddling with the hem of your dress. “i’ve heard all the stories, sarah. but he’s been... i don’t know... different with me. like he’s trying, you know?”

“that’s because he likes you,” kie said, leaning back to admire her handiwork. “okay, close your eyes for a sec.” you did as she asked, and a moment later, you felt the soft brush of eyeshadow on your eyes. “but liking someone doesn’t mean he’s not still rafe.”

“exactly,” sarah said, pointing at kiara like she’d just proven her point. “he’s got a good heart, but he’s made some... questionable choices. just don’t let him pull any of that macho, ‘i��m too cool to care’ nonsense on you.”

“and if he does, call us,” cleo added, her tone breezy but firm. “i’ve been dying to tell that boy off for weeks.”

you couldn’t help but laugh at the mental image of cleo storming in, ready to confront rafe on your behalf. “thanks, guys. i appreciate the backup.”

“that’s what we’re here for,” kie said, standing up and dusting her hands like she’d just finished a masterpiece. “alright, check it out.”

you turned to the mirror, your jaw dropping slightly at your reflection. kiara had managed to enhance your natural features without overdoing it, and the soft shimmer on your eyes made them pop. “wow,” you breathed. “you’re amazing.”

kiara grinned. “i know.”

“okay, but real talk,” sarah said, sitting up fully now. “what are you even going to talk about with him? like, do you have a plan?”

“i mean... not really?” you admitted, feeling a fresh wave of nerves. “what if it’s awkward? or he says something that—”

“that pisses you off?” cleo cut in with a smirk. “let’s be real, it’s rafe. he probably will.”

“thanks for the vote of confidence,” you said, rolling your eyes but laughing along with them.

“but seriously,” kie said, her expression softening. “just be yourself. if he’s worth it, he’ll get it.”

“and if he doesn’t,” sarah added, “you have us.”

“exactly,” cleo said, holding up her phone.

despite your nerves, their support made you feel lighter, like no matter what happened, you’d be okay. “i love you guys,” you said, pulling them into a group hug.

“love you too,” sarah said, squeezing you tightly.

“now, let’s talk about what you’re wearing because if you show up looking like this,” she gestured at your comfy-but-basic jeans and sweater, “he’s going to think you’re not even trying.”

“do we care what he thinks?” cleo quipped, raising an eyebrow.

“no,” you said quickly, then paused. “i mean… maybe a little? i just don’t want him to think i’m trying too hard.”

“guys are dumb, especially rafe” sarah said matter-of-factly. “if you showed up in pajamas, he’d probably still think you looked great.”

kiara snorted. “not rafe. he’d have an opinion, trust me,” she said before handing you a dark purple-ish dress.

“oh my God, can we please not overanalyze this?” you groaned, changing into your new outfit, before flopping down on the bed again. “i’m already freaking out enough as it is.”

“relax,” cleo said, pulling you up by your hands. “you’ve got this. and if he’s a jerk? like i said—one call. we’ll swoop in like the badasses we are.”

“maybe with baseball bats,” kiara added with a mischievous grin.

sarah rolled her eyes but gave a small smile, “okay, let’s not go that far.”

you couldn’t help but laugh, their banter easing some of the tension in your chest.

“just… don’t let him get in your head, okay? if he’s a jerk, you walk away. no second chances,” sarah said, her expression softening.

“got it,” you took a deep breath and stood up, smoothing your hands over your new outfit. “okay, how do i look?”

“like a princess,” kie said.

“like you’re about to ruin his life in the best way,” cleo added with a wink.

“and like my brother doesn’t deserve you,” sarah muttered, though there was a small smile on her face.

you laughed, shaking your head. “alright, i’m going, he just texted. pray for me.”

“we’re doing more than that, sweetheart” cleo called as you headed for the door. “we’re on standby!”

“now go knock him off that high horse of his,” kie said with a grin, pushing you softly out the door.

“and remember,” sarah called after you, “if he messes this up, he’ll have to deal with us.”

“but mostly with cleo,” kiara smiled as cleo nodded in agreement.

you laughed as you stepped out into the evening, toward rafe’s car, their voices and laughter ringing in your ears. whatever happened, you knew you weren’t going into this alone.

the cool evening air nipped at your skin as you stepped outside, your nerves tingling with every step you took toward rafe’s car. his black SUV was parked right in front of kiara’s house, its sleek lines glowing under the dim porch light. it was so typical rafe—imposing, polished, and just a little intimidating.

behind you, you could hear the faint buzz of your friends through the open window, their laughter and whispered encouragements floating into the night. kiara had insisted on walking you out, but you’d waved her off, knowing they’d all be watching anyway.

“deep breaths,” you murmured to yourself, clutching the strap of your bag like a lifeline. your heels clicked softly against the pavement as you closed the distance, every step feeling heavier than the last.

rafe was leaning against the hood of his car, arms crossed, the sharp line of his jaw illuminated by the glow of the streetlamp. he looked up when he saw you, his expression unreadable at first, but then his lips curved into a lopsided smile—the kind that made your heart skip and your stomach twist in ways you weren’t sure you liked.

“hey,” he said, straightening up as you approached. his voice was casual, but there was something in the way his eyes lingered on you, taking in your outfit, the soft sweep of kiara’s handiwork with your makeup. it made your cheeks warm despite the chill in the air.

“hi,” you managed, your voice steadier than you expected.

“you look…” he paused, his smile softening. “beautiful.”

a flicker of warmth spread through you, but you fought to keep your voice steady. “thank you. you don’t look too bad yourself.”

his eyebrows raised a little, clearly not expecting the response. “oh, really?” he teased, looking you over. “guess i cleaned up nice then.”

you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, but there was no hiding the small smile on your face. “i wouldn’t go that far, but yeah. you’re alright.”

rafe chuckled, the sound low and almost unbothered, and you were both quiet for a second as he opened the passenger door for you. his movements smooth and effortless, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—maybe nerves? it was hard to tell.

you slid into the seat, trying not to feel too much like you were stepping into the unknown.

as you slid into the seat, you stole one last glance back at kiara’s house. the curtains shifted slightly, and you caught a flash of cleo’s grin and sarah’s wave before they ducked out of sight.

he shut the door behind you, walked around to the driver’s side, and slid in. the car filled with the faint scent of his cologne—clean and woodsy, with just a hint of something sharper. the car hummed to life, and he glanced at you, that same smirk still tugging at his lips. “ready?”

not really, you thought, but instead, you nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “yeah. let’s go.”

as the car rumbled to life and pulled away from kie’s house, you couldn’t help but feel like you were stepping into something you weren’t entirely prepared for. but then rafe glanced over at you, his smile genuine and a little unsure, and for a moment, the nerves didn’t feel quite so heavy.

the restaurant he picked was a small, tucked-away spot near the marina, its charm lying in its casual atmosphere. fairy lights were strung up around the outdoor patio, casting a warm glow over the mismatched wooden tables and chairs. the salty breeze from the ocean added to the laid-back vibe, and you were pleasantly surprised.

“so,” rafe said, leaning back in his chair with that easy confidence, a smirk playing on his lips. “be honest. how much convincing did sarah and your friends need, to let you come out with me tonight?”

you laughed, picking up your water glass. “what makes you think they tried to stop me?”

“oh, come on,” he said, leaning forward now, resting his arms on the table. “sarah’s been side-eyeing me since we were kids, and kie? she probably has a whole powerpoint on why i’m a bad idea.”

you almost choked on your wine at the mention of kiara and a powerpoint. “okay, that’s fair. there might’ve been a… brief conversation.”

“i knew it,” he said, grinning triumphantly. “wait, let me guess. sarah told you to be careful, kie offered to bail you out if things went south, because cleo—”

“threatened violence,” you finished for him, unable to stop smiling.

he laughed, shaking his head.

the air between you shifted slightly, the playful mood dipping into something more serious. but before it could get too heavy, you decided to lighten things up. “alright, mr. cameron, let’s test how much you actually care about the important stuff.”

“oh, this should be good,” he said, his grin returning. “hit me.”

“pineapple on pizza—yes or no?”

he groaned, dramatically throwing his head back. “no. absolutely not.”

“oh, thank God,” you said, relieved. “finally, someone with sense. pineapple does not belong on pizza.”

“right?!” he said, leaning forward, clearly pleased. “it’s disgusting. sweet and savory are not a vibe when it comes to pizza.”

“exactly! fruit has no business being anywhere near melted cheese.”

“see, i knew you had good taste,” he said, grinning like he’d just won something.

“you’re just lucky i agree with you,” you shot back playfully. “if i didn’t, this date might’ve been over already.”

he laughed, the sound warm and unguarded. “guess i dodged a bullet there.”

by the time the food arrived, you were genuinely having fun, the nerves from earlier all but forgotten. and as rafe cracked another joke that had you laughing so hard your sides hurt, you thought, maybe this guy isn’t as bad as everyone says.

after a few more bites of your food and another round of laughter, the conversation naturally fell into a more laid-back rhythm. you were both finishing off your meals, but the mood was light and easy, so you decided to keep the momentum going.

“alright,” rafe said, putting his fork down and leaning back in his chair, a mischievous glint in his eye. “do mcdonald's fries go with the cheese and bacon sauce?”

you didn’t even hesitate. “yes. absolutely. it’s like the best combo in the world.”

rafe stared at you for a beat, clearly surprised. “what? what?”

“it's perfect,” you said, shrugging as if it was the most obvious thing ever. “crispy fries, salty bacon, and that gooey cheese? heaven.”

he leaned forward, narrowing his eyes in disbelief. “you're really saying you dip fries in cheese and bacon sauce?”

you nodded. “yeah. and you should try it.”

he scoffed. “not gonna happen.”

you grinned, knowing you had won that round. “your turn. do you snoop in people’s bathroom cabinets when you're at parties?”

he smirked. “absolutely.”

“what?!” you burst out, laughing.

rafe smirked at your shocked expression, clearly enjoying your reaction to his answer. “what?” he said, leaning back in his chair like he’d just revealed the greatest secret in the world. “you’ve never been curious?”

you raised an eyebrow. “curious about what, exactly? what kind of toothpaste people use?”

“no, no,” he said, shaking his head with a grin. “it’s more about the little details. you know, like... the weird stuff people keep hidden in there.”

he leaned in a little, lowering his voice as if revealing a forbidden truth. “you’d be surprised what you find in bathroom cabinets.”

you were still processing this, trying not to laugh. “so, you’re telling me you’re the type to open random bathroom drawers at parties just to see what people are hiding?”

“not just that,” he said, clearly enjoying the whole thing now. “sometimes you find little oddities—like a first-aid kit with band-aids that look like they’ve never been touched, or a weird collection of shampoos no one’s ever heard of. it’s hilarious. you get a glimpse of what people are about.”

you stared at him, incredulous but amused. “so, it’s less about being nosy and more about... discovering their 'quirks,' huh?”

he grinned and shrugged. “exactly. it’s like a secret peek into their life, their habits. i mean, everyone’s got something they hide away, right?”

“yeah, i guess...” you said, trying not to smile too much. “but... isn’t that a little weird?”

“maybe,” he admitted with a chuckle, “but it’s harmless. it’s not like i’m digging through their underwear drawer.”

you burst out laughing, shaking your head. “thank God for that.”

he raised his hands in mock surrender. “hey, i know my boundaries.” he leaned back, a teasing glint in his eyes. “plus, i’ve got sophisticated taste when it comes to snooping.”

“right,” you said, rolling your eyes. “if ‘sophisticated snooping’ is a thing, you’ve definitely mastered it.”

“oh, i have,” he said with a wink. “but you’re lucky you don’t have a party at your place... you never know what i’d find in your bathroom cabinet.”

“don’t even think about it, cameron,” you said, feigning seriousness but grinning. “i’ll lock it all down if i have to.”

rafe laughed, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “i’ll bring a crowbar next time.”

“please don’t,” you said, shaking your head, already laughing at the absurdity. “i’ve got enough weird stuff in there to last a lifetime.”

“now you’ve piqued my curiosity,” he said, giving you a sly smile.

you leaned back in your chair, raising your hands in surrender. “i’m not telling you anything. you’ll just have to guess what’s in there next time.”

“challenge accepted,” he replied, his grin widening.

“okay,” he raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “do you like romantic comedies?”

your response was immediate. “yes, i love them. they’re fun and lighthearted, okay?”

rafe gave a dramatic gasp. “what? you? seriously?”

“what? yes! i like feel-good movies, alright?”

“romantic comedies are so cheesy,” he said with a smirk. “like, who needs that level of unrealistic, over-the-top, ‘meet-cute’ nonsense in their life?”

“i don’t know, maybe everyone who wants to escape reality for a bit?” you shot back with a playful grin. “i’m not saying it’s life-changing, but it’s fun. plus, who doesn’t want to watch two people fall in love in the most dramatic way possible?”

“okay, okay,” he conceded with a sigh. “i guess i get it… but i’m still not watching one.”

you smirked, leaning back in your chair. “we’ll see about that.”

“fine, your turn again,” he said, crossing his arms like he was ready to take on anything.

“do you believe in ghosts?”

he paused for a moment, clearly thinking it over. “yeah, i think so.”

your eyes widened. “wait, really?”

“yeah. not all the time, but i think there’s something to it.”

you raised an eyebrow. “alright, what kind of ghost person are you? like, the friendly kind or the scary one that haunts your house?”

“more like the ‘your light flickers and you get the chills’ kind,” he said, his tone casual, but there was a spark of seriousness there. “but i don’t get freaked out by it. i kind of find it... intriguing.”

“what?” you exclaimed, laughing. “i’m definitely not inviting you over if there’s a haunted house involved.”

he shrugged with a grin. “you’d be fine. i’d protect you.”

you raised an eyebrow. “i’ll take my chances with the ghost, thanks.”

rafe chuckled, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. “alright, alright. do you prefer dogs over cats?”

you didn’t even have to think about it. “no. a thousand times, no. cats are elegant, independent, and they don’t beg for your attention every five seconds.”

he leaned back in his chair, pretending to look hurt. “i’ll have you know, dogs are loyal and affectionate. they’d never judge you for anything.”

“cats don’t judge either,” you countered with a grin. “they just… have standards. and honestly? i respect that.”

“standards?” he echoed with a laugh. “is that what you call refusing to acknowledge your existence half the time?”

“they’re selective,” you said defensively, but you could see the smile on his face. “and when they do choose you? it’s special. dogs will love anyone with a pulse.”

“wow,” he said, his smirk growing wider. “you’re really riding for the feline overlords, huh?”

“maybe,” you said with a shrug, still smiling. “but at least they’re not trying to lick my face after eating who-knows-what.”

after a few more rounds of yes/no questions, the laughter and easy conversation continued, and you both found yourself enjoying the unpredictability of the game. by the end of the night, you realized that despite all the teasing and disagreement, there was something nice about getting to know each other in this simple, silly way.

and maybe, just maybe, you were starting to see the appeal of rafe cameron—despite his questionable opinions on romantic comedies and his lack of ghostly fear.

the night had been almost perfect. rafe had paid for dinner without making a big deal of it, his effortless charm making you smile more than you thought you would. as you walked back to his car, you couldn’t help but think that maybe—just maybe—giving him a chance hadn’t been a mistake.

“you can just admit i have better taste,” he teased, shooting you a grin as he unlocked the car.

“you mean i let you win that debate,” you countered, playfully nudging his arm.

he rolled his eyes but grinned. “sure. let’s go with that.”

he opened the passenger door for you, that boyish charm still in full swing. but as you were about to step into the car, a sharp voice from across the parking lot stopped you.

“cameron!” one of the guys called out, loud enough to turn heads. a small group was hanging out near the curb, their laughter ringing out in the cool night air.

you looked up, your heart dropping slightly as they sauntered closer. something about their demeanor screamed trouble.

“yo, rafe! didn’t know you were slumming it these days!” one of them jeered, his voice dripping with mockery.

another chimed in, louder and cruder. “what’s the deal, man? thought you were into classier types. or is this just a one-time thing?”

“man, i didn’t think you still did one-night stands,” the first one said with a smirk, his eyes flicking to you. “guess you’ve still got a type.”

you froze, every muscle in your body tensing. it was like the air had been knocked out of you. did you hear that right?

another guy chimed in, his grin even slimier. “what’s the plan, rafe? dinner, a little sweet talk, and then you drop her off tomorrow like the rest?”

the laughter that followed was harsh and cutting, their words echoing in your mind.

you stood there, frozen, trying to process what they’d just said. did they think you were just some… hookup? was that what this was to rafe?

rafe’s posture immediately shifted—his jaw tightening, his shoulders squaring up like he was ready for a fight. “shut your mouth,” he snapped, his voice cold and sharp.

but you didn’t hear his response. you were too stunned, too humiliated by the way they had spoken about you, like you weren’t even a person. your head was spinning, and your chest ached, the weight of their words settling over you like a heavy blanket.

“hey, don’t walk away!” one of the guys called, laughing. “we’re just messing around. guess she can’t take a joke!”

rafe turned to them, stepping closer with an edge in his tone. “keep talking, and we’ll see how funny it is when you’re picking up your teeth.”

you didn’t catch that either. all you knew was that rafe hadn’t said anything to you. he hadn’t reassured you, hadn’t told them off in a way you could hear. all you felt was exposed and small.

when he turned back to you, you were already standing stiffly by the open passenger door, your arms crossed tightly over your chest.

“oh, come on, girl,” one of them said to you, chuckling. “we’re just messing with you. you don’t have to get so worked up.”

“shut your mouths,” rafe said sharply, stepping forward, his tone low and threatening.

but their laughter didn’t stop.

“get in the car,” rafe said, turning back to you, his voice still tight with anger.

but you couldn’t move. your chest felt heavy, and you realized your hands were trembling as you stared at him. “was that… was that what this was?”

“What was what?” he asked, frowning.

“that,” you said, motioning toward the group of guys still lingering nearby. “and this,” you said, motioning between the two of you. “was this just some… thing to you? just a one-time thing?”

“what? no!” rafe’s eyes widened in shock. “what are you even talking about?”

“what they said—was it true? is that what you do? take girls out, make them feel special, and then just… move on?”

“are you serious right now?” rafe asked, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “i told them to shut up! i told them they were wrong!”

“but you didn’t say anything to me,” you shot back, your voice trembling with anger and hurt. “you didn’t stop to tell me that i wasn’t just some fling. you didn’t even try to—”

“because i didn’t think i had to!” he interrupted, his voice rising. “you should know that’s not what this is!”

“how am i supposed to know that?” you said, your voice cracking. “i barely know you, rafe. and all i know about you is the reputation you’ve worked so hard to earn.”

rafe’s face fell slightly, but he quickly masked it with anger. “you’ve already made up your mind about me, haven’t you? you think i’m just some player who only cares about himself. no matter what i do, that’s all you see.”

“maybe because that’s what everyone says about you!” you shot back, your emotions spilling over now. “and honestly? tonight, it doesn’t feel like they’re wrong.”

rafe stepped back as if you’d slapped him, his jaw tightening. “you think i don’t care about you?”

you shook your head, wiping at your eyes. “i don’t know what to think, rafe. but right now, i just… i feel like i shouldn’t have come here in the first place.”

his expression flickered, a mix of frustration and sadness, but he didn’t say anything.

you pulled out your phone, your hands shaking as you dialed cleo’s number.

she picked up after the second ring, her voice cheerful. “what’s up, sweetheart?”

“can you come get me?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “please?”

there was a pause, then a shift in her tone. “where are you?”

you gave her the location, not even looking at rafe as you spoke. when you hung up, you stepped away from the car, wrapping your arms around yourself as you waited.

“are you seriously leaving?” rafe asked, his voice quieter now but still laced with frustration.

you nodded, staring at the ground. “yeah. i think it’s better this way.”

“better for who?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly. “because it sure as hell doesn’t feel better for me.”

you didn’t answer, biting the inside of your cheek. when cleo’s car finally pulled up, you climbed in without looking back, the weight of the night pressing down on you.

the date had started so well—better than you ever thought it could. but now, as you drove away, all you felt was disappointment and the sinking feeling that maybe you’d been wrong to trust him at all.

you arrived at kiara’s house feeling like the weight of the world was pressing on your chest. as soon as you stepped through the door, cleo was there, wrapping you in a hug without saying a word.

“c’mon, sweetheart,” she said softly, rubbing your back. “let’s get you upstairs.”

kiara and sarah were already waiting in kiara’s room, seated cross-legged on the bed, a tub of ice cream and an array of snacks spread out between them.

“oh my gosh,” kiara said, her face scrunching in concern as she looked up at you. “what happened?”

“start from the beginning,” sarah added, sitting up straighter. “you look like you’re about to cry.”

you let cleo guide you to the bed, slipping into the oversized hoodie kiara handed you before collapsing against the pillows. the moment the fabric enveloped you, some of the tension in your shoulders eased, but the knot in your chest remained tight.

“okay,” you began, taking a deep breath. “the date started fine. better than fine, actually. it was… really nice. he was charming, and funny, and it felt like he was actually trying.”

“that’s a good start,” cleo said, sitting beside you and passing over a spoon.

“it was,” you agreed, twisting the spoon in your hands. “but then, when we were walking back to his car, these guys—” you paused, swallowing the lump in your throat. “these guys said the worst things. like, they were making it sound like i was just some one-night stand he picked up.”

kiara’s jaw dropped. “what the hell?”

sarah groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “why does every guy he knows have to be such a douchebag?”

“that’s not even the worst part,” you said, your voice cracking. “rafe told them to shut up, but it didn’t feel like enough. and i—i just felt so…” you trailed off, staring at the tub of ice cream.

“used?” cleo supplied, her tone softer now.

you nodded, blinking back tears. “yeah. and then i asked him if that’s what this was, and we started arguing. he said i was assuming the worst about him, but—” you groaned, burying your face in your hands. “did i overreact?”

“no,” all three of them said in unison, their voices firm.

“not even a little bit,” kiara added, scooping a giant spoonful of ice cream and shoving it into her mouth.

cleo nudged your shoulder. “sweetheart, you have every right to feel the way you feel. those guys were disgusting, and rafe should’ve done more than just tell them to shut up. he should’ve made sure you knew you weren’t some fling to him.”

sarah crossed her arms, frowning. “i know he’s my brother, but like, what the fuck? he knows better than to let people talk about you like that. he should’ve handled it differently.”

you sighed, tugging at the sleeves of the hoodie. “but he did try to defend me. and then i accused him of using me. i mean, what if he was being genuine, and i just completely ruined everything?”

“don’t do that,” kiara said, pointing her spoon at you. “don’t turn this around on yourself. if he really wanted to prove himself, he’d have done more than just argue with you. he’d have made you feel safe.”

“exactly,” cleo agreed. “he knows his reputation, and he knows it’s going to take more than one nice dinner to change it. that’s not your fault.”

“but i feel so stupid,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “i let my guard down for once, and now i’m sitting here eating ice cream in someone else’s clothes while you guys have to cheer me up.”

kiara grabbed your hand, squeezing it tightly. “first of all, this is exactly what friends are for. second of all, you’re not stupid. you gave someone a chance, and it didn’t go the way you hoped. that doesn’t make you dumb—it makes you human.”

sarah gave you a small smile. “and for what it’s worth, i don’t think he wanted to hurt you. he’s just… rafe. he screws things up, even when he doesn’t mean to.”

“still,” cleo said, cutting in, “he’s a grown man. if he wants to prove he’s more than his reputation, then he needs to act like it.”

you leaned back against the pillows, letting their words sink in. “you guys are the best, you know that?”

kiara grinned. “obviously.”

“now,” cleo said, handing you a tub of different ice cream, “eat up. we’re not letting you mope all night. we’ve got bad movies to watch and worse advice to give.”

you sat on your bed, scrolling aimlessly through your phone. it had been a week since the date, and while life had gone back to normal for the most part, there was still a small ache in your chest whenever you thought about rafe.

you hadn’t talked to him since that night. he hadn’t texted, and you definitely weren’t about to reach out first. it was easier to tell yourself you were over it—easier to pretend the whole thing didn’t sting as much as it did.

the soft ding of your phone pulled you out of your thoughts. it was the group chat with sarah, kiara, and cleo.

as the chat died down, you set your phone aside and stared at the ceiling. you weren’t sure if you were ready to face people—especially since there was a good chance rafe might be there—but a part of you knew your friends were right. you couldn’t stay in this funk forever.

with a sigh, you grabbed your notebook and started sketching out the rest of your day, already bracing yourself for whatever the night might bring.

the next day arrived with an odd mix of excitement and nerves in the air. you were determined to go to the party, even though a small part of you still wasn’t sure what to expect. the last thing you wanted was to feel awkward or run into rafe and spiral again, but your friends had insisted, and honestly, you couldn’t stay cooped up in your room anymore.

you’d spent the afternoon getting yourself together—taking a long, steamy shower to clear your head, eating a light meal to keep your energy up, and now you were just waiting for kiara to arrive.

the doorbell rang, and you jumped off the bed, your heart racing with a mixture of anticipation and nerves. you quickly checked your reflection in the mirror, running a hand through your damp hair one last time. you had cleaned up, but you knew the real fun was about to begin when your best friends worked their magic.

Youyouopened the door to find kiara standing in the hallway, a bag of beauty products slung over her shoulder, her usual confident grin on her face.

“ready to get glam?” she asked, raising an eyebrow playfully.

“glam? i’m just hoping to look halfway decent,” you joked, stepping aside to let her in.

kie didn’t waste any time, immediately heading for the bathroom to set up her stuff. you could already hear her pulling out different hair tools and products.

a few minutes later, cleo arrived, carrying an armful of clothes.

“alright,” cleo said, dropping the clothes onto your bed, “let’s see what we have to work with here.”

“you guys are way too extra,” you laughed, but the excitement bubbling in your chest was hard to hide.

“extra is our middle name, sweetheart” cleo replied, winking as she started going through the clothes.

just as cleo began pulling out options for your outfit, sarah knocked on the doorframe, holding a bottle of perfume.

“okay, i brought backup,” she said, giving you a smirk. “this is my secret weapon—trust me, you’ll smell like the moment.”

“is that the perfume you wore on your first date with john b?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

sarah’s face lit up a little, a soft blush creeping onto her cheeks. “maybe. but hey, don’t knock it until you try it.”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile that tugged at the corner of your lips. your friends were everything you needed right now.

kie called from the bathroom, her voice sing-songy. “come sit down, girl! we’ve got work to do!”

you grabbed a water bottle from your desk, taking a quick sip before heading to the bathroom to meet kiara. she already had a chair pulled up in front of the mirror and was holding a blow dryer in one hand, ready to start working her magic.

“let’s make you shine tonight,” kie said, her smile both comforting and determined.

as she started drying your hair and cleo began picking out the perfect outfit, sarah set to work on spritzing a cloud of perfume in the air around you, the sweet scent filling your senses.

it wasn’t long before everything fell into place. your hair was done just right—a little volume, but nothing too over the top but just enough to feel a little extra. cleo had picked out a black dress that hugged you in all the right places, elegant but simple. it had the perfect amount of edge. sarah’s perfume lingered on your skin, subtle yet undeniably there.

when you stepped back in front of the mirror, you almost didn’t recognize yourself. your friends had worked magic, and for the first time in days, you didn’t feel quite so weighed down by everything.

“you look amazing,” cleo said, standing behind you and adjusting the neckline of your dress.

sarah stepped up, fixing a strand of your hair. “totally. you’re going to turn heads tonight, trust me.”

kie grinned and gave you a thumbs-up. “there she is! ready to show up and show out.”

for the first time since you’d agreed to go to this party, a small, genuine smile crept across your face. maybe tonight wasn’t going to be as bad as you’d thought. maybe this was what you needed—just a night to be carefree with your friends.

the car ride to the party was filled with a mix of chatter, laughter, and music, with cleo DJing from the front seat while sarah and kiara were backseat drivers in the most literal sense, throwing in their suggestions for the perfect pre-party playlist.

the streets outside were buzzing, the sound of music and laughter getting louder as you approached Emma L’s house. you could see the cluster of people standing outside, a few familiar faces you hadn’t seen in a while. the flashing lights from the party’s entrance cast colorful streaks across the sidewalk, and the distinct smell of perfume, cigarettes, and cheap beer filled the air.

“alright, here we go,” kiara said, pulling into a spot down the street. “moment of truth. let’s go show ‘em how it’s done.”

you laughed nervously, adjusting the straps of your dress as your friends started piling out of the car. kie was the first one to slam the door behind her, her energy already high. cleo followed right after, pulling her jacket tighter around her, clearly ready for a night of fun. you took a deep breath, glancing out the window before stepping out of the car with sarah trailing behind you.

the moment you stepped onto the sidewalk and made your way toward the front door, it felt like you had crossed into a completely different world. the music thumped louder, the bass reverberating through your chest, and the chatter grew into a chorus of voices from all directions. you were already mentally bracing yourself for the crowd, but as you approached the house, kiara threw her arm around your shoulders.

“don’t even think about it,” she said with a grin. “we’re here to have fun, no stress.”

you smiled back, appreciating her reassurance, even though you felt a little nervous.

when you walked inside, the noise hit you full force. the house was packed, people sprawled across couches, standing in clusters by the snack table, and others dancing in the living room. emma was somewhere in the crowd, greeting people with a glass of something in her hand.

“look at this place,” sarah said, taking in the scene with raised eyebrows. “this is going to be a disaster.”

“you say that like it’s a bad thing,” kiara quipped. “let’s find some drinks and make this night memorable.”

you followed the group toward the back, where the kitchen was set up with an impressive spread of snacks and drinks, and a small cooler sat on the counter. the red solo cups were in abundance, and the air felt heavy with a mix of excitement and anticipation.

the sound of a familiar voice caught your attention, and when you turned to see who it was, your heart dropped a little in your chest.

rafe.

he was leaning against the kitchen island, talking with a few of his friends, a beer in hand. his eyes flicked to you as you entered, and for a brief moment, it felt like everything around you slowed down.

his expression softened when he saw you, and he seemed to hesitate before taking a step toward you, but you quickly turned your attention to the snacks, forcing a smile as your friends continued their conversation.

kiara, who had been watching the interaction, gave you a sidelong glance. “you good?”

you nodded quickly, trying to push the discomfort away. “yeah, yeah, i’m fine. let’s just enjoy the night, right?”

cleo and sarah were already grabbing drinks, taking no time to immerse themselves in the party atmosphere. it was clear they were ready to have fun, but you couldn’t help but feel the weight of rafe’s presence in the room.

as you sipped on your drink, trying to get lost in the chaos of the party, you caught glimpses of rafe a few times. he wasn’t coming over—he wasn’t forcing anything, but it was impossible not to feel like his presence was pulling at your attention, whether you wanted it to or not.

“he’s not the reason we’re here. we’re here to have fun,” kiara said quietly, nudging your shoulder.

you nodded, trying to push your lingering thoughts about rafe to the back of your mind as the music picked up again. you were here with your friends, and tonight was about just letting go. for the first time in a while, you let yourself dance, laugh, and talk with everyone around you. but even in the middle of the crowd, you couldn’t shake the feeling that rafe was still somewhere in the back of your mind.

the bathroom was quiet, the muffled sound of the party a faint thrum in the background. you leaned against the sink, letting out a shaky breath. the conversation with rafe from weeks ago kept replaying in your mind, and guilt gnawed at the edges of your thoughts. maybe you’d been too harsh, too quick to assume the worst.

trying to shake it off, you glanced at the bathroom cabinet. what would he say if he saw this right now? you wondered, a rueful smile tugging at your lips. probably some smug comment about curiosity getting the best of you. the thought made you hesitate, but then, before you could second-guess yourself, you opened one of the drawers.

it was mostly mundane—some hair ties, lotion, a pack of floss—but still, you peeked into the next one, stifling a laugh at how absurd this felt.

“i thought you didn’t snoop in people’s bathrooms.”

the voice was calm, almost casual, but it sent a jolt through you. you whipped around to see rafe leaning against the wall, his arms crossed and his eyes on you, unreadable.

your face burned. “i don’t!” you said too quickly, slamming the drawer shut.

he raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching. “really?”

“why are you even in here?” you shot back, trying to recover from your embarrassment, which happend quite quickly with the alcohol flowing through your system.

“i was here first,” he said with a small shrug.

your brow furrowed. “no, you weren’t. i didn’t see you when i came in.”

“yeah, because i was sitting down.”

“what? on the floor?”

“yeah.”

you blinked, utterly baffled. “wait, why?”

“why not?” he replied, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

your jaw dropped. “you’re just casually sitting on bathroom floors at parties now? what, is that some kind of weird new hobby?”

rafe shrugged again, his expression neutral. “it’s quiet in here. i needed a breather.”

“you’re insane,” you muttered, shaking your head.

“maybe,” he said softly, his tone shifting, his eyes holding yours. “but at least i know who i am.”

the weight of his words lingered in the air, and before you could respond, he sighed. “you know, i’ve been thinking a lot about that night.”

your stomach churned, and your heart sank. “rafe, i—”

he shook his head, cutting you off. “no, let me just say this.” he took a step closer, his voice low but charged with emotion. “do you really think i’m the guy everyone says i am? the selfish, reckless asshole who doesn’t care about anyone but himself?”

your throat tightened, but you couldn’t find the words fast enough.

“because that’s what it feels like,” he continued, his gaze unwavering.

“it feels like you already decided who i am, and you’re just waiting for me to prove you right. like i’m some kind of bad habit you regret getting involved with.”

“rafe, it’s not—”

he let out a dry laugh, his frustration slipping through. “you walked away that night without even giving me a chance to say something. do you know how that felt? watching you leave like you couldn’t stand to be near me anymore?”

your chest ached at the crack in his voice, the vulnerability he was trying so hard to mask. “i didn’t mean to make you feel like that,” you said softly, your voice trembling.

“then why did you?” he asked, his eyes searching yours. “because i’ve tried, okay? i was trying so damn hard to show you that i’m not who they say i am. but it just doesn’t seem to matter. it’s like you were waiting for me to mess up so you can tell yourself you were right all along.”

his words hit you like a punch to the gut, and tears stung your eyes. “i’m sorry,” you whispered.

he shook his head, his voice breaking slightly. “you don’t get it. i wanted to be someone different for you. i wanted to be better, to show you that i’m not just... the guy with the reputation.” he paused, running a hand through his hair. “but maybe that’s all you’ll ever see.”

“no,” you said quickly, stepping forward. “that’s not true. i—”

“then why?” he asked again, quieter this time, his tone almost pleading.

you swallowed hard, guilt weighing heavily on your shoulders. “i was scared, okay? scared that what those guys said was true. scared that i was just some... thing for you to pass the time with. and instead of asking you, i just... i ran.”

he studied you for a long moment, the anger fading from his expression but the hurt still etched deep in his eyes. “you should’ve trusted me,” he said simply.

“i know,” you said, your voice cracking. “i shouldn’t have left like that. i’m so sorry, rafe. i... i want to fix this.”

his lips twitched in a bitter smile. “you’re sure about that? because i don’t know if i can keep trying to prove myself to someone who doesn’t believe in me.”

you looked down at the tiled floor, your chest tightening. “i... i don’t know what to say,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “i think—i know i messed up.”

rafe didn’t respond right away, his silence stretching long enough to make your heart pound.

“it wasn’t fair,” you continued, glancing up at him, your throat tightening. “the way i left. the way i didn’t even let you explain. i shouldn’t have done that.”

he let out a quiet breath, leaning back against the wall, his expression unreadable. “why did you, then?”

“i don’t know,” you said, shaking your head. “i was upset, when... i heard what those guys said, and it felt like...” You trailed off, biting your lip.

“felt like what?” he pressed, his voice softer now.

“like maybe they were right,” you said finally, the words heavy on your tongue. “like maybe i was just another... another thing for you to pass the time with. and instead of asking you about it, i just...left.”

rafe’s jaw tightened, his gaze fixed on you.

“i guess i thought if i left first, it wouldn’t hurt as much,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “but it did. it hurt anyway.”

he exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “so you thought i’d just—what? use you? like i don’t care about you at all?”

“i didn’t want to think that,” you said quickly, your voice cracking. “but it’s easier to believe what everyone says than to risk getting it wrong, isn’t it?” you looked at him, your eyes stinging. “it wasn’t fair to you, and i’m sorry for that. for not giving you the chance to prove them wrong. for assuming you wouldn’t.”

rafe’s shoulders relaxed just slightly, though his expression was still guarded. “you really think that’s who i am?” he asked, quieter now.

“no,” you said, shaking your head. “not now. but that night... i don’t know. i let myself get scared. i let myself believe the worst because it felt safer than believing in what i don’t know.”

he studied you, his eyes searching yours. “and what do you believe now?”

“i don’t know everything,” you admitted, your heart pounding. “but i don’t want to keep running away. i don’t want to see you as just... this idea people have about you. i want to see you for you. if you’ll let me.”

rafe’s shoulders seemed to drop slightly, and the tension in his face softened. “okay,” he said again, his voice quieter this time, like he was still letting the word settle. he leaned back against the wall, his arms folding loosely across his chest. “i get it, you know. why you felt like that.”

you blinked, caught off guard by the calm in his tone. “you do?”

he nodded, glancing down for a moment before meeting your eyes again. “i mean, look at me. i don’t exactly make it easy for people to see past the reputation, do i? the parties, the fights, the stupid crap i’ve done.” he shrugged lightly, a self-deprecating smile tugging at his lips.

“i’ve given people plenty of reasons to think the worst about me.”

“but that’s not all you are,” you said softly, stepping a little closer.

he gave a small, humorless laugh. “yeah, well, it’s not easy convincing people of that. and after a while... you just stop trying, you know? if they’re gonna think I’m a screw-up no matter what, why not lean into it?”

“that’s not fair to you,” you said, your voice firm.

“maybe not,” he admitted, his gaze steady. “but i get why you’d think i’d... i don’t know. be like that. use you.”

you opened your mouth to protest, but he held up a hand. “i’m not saying it’s true. i’m only saying i get it. i’ve screwed up a lot. and when you’ve heard something about someone enough times, it’s hard not to believe it.”

“i should’ve given you the benefit of the doubt,” you murmured, guilt tugging at you again.

“maybe,” he said, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. “but i didn’t exactly give you a reason to think otherwise, did i? i’m not great at... the whole being a better person thing.”

you smiled despite yourself. “you’re doing better than you think, rafe.”

he raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “oh, yeah? how do you figure?”

“you’re here, aren’t you?” you said, gesturing around the small bathroom. “you could’ve avoided me completely tonight, but you didn’t. and you’re not yelling at me or telling me i’m awful for what i did. you’re listening.”

he tilted his head, considering that for a moment. “huh. guess i am.”

“and for what it’s worth,” you added, your voice soft, “i like the guy who’s sitting on bathroom floors and listening. he’s... kind of sweet.”

rafe chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. “sweet? that’s a new one.”

“don’t let it go to your head,” you teased, a small grin tugging at your lips.

“too late,” he shot back, a playful glint in his eye. “but... thanks.”

there was a pause, the air between you feeling lighter now, softer. he glanced at the cabinet you’d been rifling through and smirked. “so, find anything good in there?”

you rolled your eyes, laughing. “not a chance. this place is boring.”

“figures,” he said, leaning back against the wall, a lopsided grin spreading across his face. “you know, i don’t mind you snooping around, though. makes me feel less like the only weirdo in the world who does that.”

“oh, no,” you said, crossing your arms with a mock-serious expression. “you’re definitely still a weirdo, cameron.”

he laughed, shaking his head. “fair enough.”

as the laughter faded, he looked at you, something softer and more genuine in his gaze. “thanks for... sticking around this time,” he said quietly.

“thanks for letting me,” you replied, your heart fluttering as he gave you a small, crooked smile that felt more real than anything else in the world.

MASTERLIST

CURRENT TAGLIST⋆⭒˚｡⋆

@maybankslover ⟢ @honeyluvsatj ⟢ @zazidot ⟢ @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 ⟢ @lunaleah ⟢ @maybanksangel ⟢ @wtfdudesblog. ⟢ @niktwazny303. ⟢ @outerbanksloverp4l ⟢ @slut4you

[rafedarling]

omg could write abt when readers pregnant with rustyn, just everyone fawning over her baby bump and drew being the sweetest 😭😭

𝐱𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐦𝐩

pairing: drew starkey x fem!reader

summary: seven months pregnant with your son rustyn, you and drew spend christmas night with the starkey family. everyone is excited about your baby bump, showering you with attention and love. drew is the sweetest, constantly fawning over you and your pregnancy, proud and protective as he talks about your journey.

warning(s): english is not my native language. fluff, pregnancy, family bonding, holiday themes, mentions of food, and a whole lot of love, drew’s parents does not divorce in this scenario.

au: like, reblog and feedback are much appreciated. taglist | tagging: @rafeyslamb @tracymbcm @enjoymyloves @akobx @rubixgsworld @xoxohoneymoongirl @mileyraes @maybankslover @noobmazter69 @littlelamy @wearemadeofstardust0 @xoxosblogsblog @saviorcomplexrry @bisexualcvnt @stuffyownswrld @anamiad00msday @httpsdrewstarkey

The cold December air nips at your skin as you and Drew walk up the driveway of the Starkey family home. It’s Christmas night, and the house is covered in a warm glow from the twinkling lights that outline the roof. You can’t help but smile as you take in the holiday cheer. There’s something special about Christmas this year—maybe it’s because of how close you are to meeting your baby, or maybe it’s just the warmth of family that makes everything feel a little more magical.

Your hand instinctively goes to your belly, where your son, Rustyn, is nestled safe and sound. At seven months pregnant, you’re definitely feeling the weight of the third trimester, but every little kick and flutter from Rustyn makes the heaviness worth it. Drew, ever attentive, is right by your side, one arm protectively wrapped around your waist as he guides you up the walkway.

“You doing okay?” Drew asks, his voice soft as he glances down at you with those familiar, caring eyes. He’s been extra cautious lately, always checking in, always making sure you’re comfortable.

“I’m good,” you reassure him with a smile, though you can’t help but feel your heart swell at how sweet he’s been throughout the entire pregnancy. “Excited to see your family.”

Drew grins, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead before opening the front door. The warmth of the Starkey home envelops you immediately, and the sounds of laughter and conversation spill out from the living room. Inside, the house is a vision of Christmas cheer—decorated to the nines with twinkling lights, garlands, and the smell of freshly baked gingerbread cookies wafting from the kitchen.

As soon as you step inside, you’re greeted by Jodi, Drew’s mom, whose face lights up the moment she sees you.

“Oh my goodness, you’re glowing!” she exclaims, rushing over to wrap you in a gentle hug, mindful of your pregnant belly. Her hands, warm and soft, come to rest on your bump, and her smile widens even more. “Look at that belly! Rustyn’s going to be here so soon, I can’t believe it.”

You laugh softly, patting her hand affectionately. “Only two more months and few days to go.”

Jodi practically beams, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “You’re carrying so beautifully. I bet you can’t wait to meet him.”

You nod, feeling the familiar flutter of Rustyn’s movements as if he knows everyone is talking about him. “We’re both really excited,” you say, glancing over at Drew, who is standing proudly beside you, his hand instinctively resting on the small of your back.

“I can’t wait either,” Drew says, his voice full of warmth as he looks at you, his eyes softening with every word. “It feels like we’ve been waiting forever.”

Jodi chuckles, giving him a knowing look. “The wait is always the hardest part. But it’s worth it, trust me.”

As if on cue, Drew’s sister appears, Brooke, her eyes going wide as she spots your belly. “Oh my God, look at you!” she gushes, hurrying over to join her mom. “Can I feel him kick?”

“Of course,” you say with a smile, gently guiding her hand to the side of your belly where Rustyn has been particularly active tonight.

She grins in awe, her face lighting up when she feels a firm little nudge. “Oh! He kicked! That’s amazing!” she squeals, clapping her hands together in delight.

“Strong little guy, huh?” Drew says, his chest puffing up with pride. You can’t help but smile at the way he’s been throughout the pregnancy, always so proud of every little movement, every milestone.

You laugh softly, resting a hand on your belly as Rustyn shifts again. “He’s definitely active.”

Drew’s dad joins the group, his usually serious face softening as he takes in the sight of you and your growing belly. “You look wonderful,” he says, giving Drew a firm pat on the back. “You’re gonna be a great dad, son. Your mom and I are so proud of you.”

Drew’s expression brightens even more, and you feel his hand squeeze your waist affectionately. “Thanks, Dad. We’re both really excited for this next step.”

The evening progresses, you’re ushered into the living room, where the Starkey family gathers around the Christmas tree. The house is filled with the sounds of holiday music, laughter, and the crackling of the fireplace. The room is warm, both in temperature and in the way the Starkey family makes you feel—completely at home.

You find yourself settled into a plush armchair, a pillow tucked behind your back for extra support. Drew, ever attentive, hovers near you, making sure you’re comfortable before he sits down beside you. His hand, as always, finds its way to your belly, resting there as if it’s second nature by now.

“You sure you don’t need anything? Water? Another blanket? Pillow?” Drew asks, his voice full of concern as he rubs gentle circles on your belly.

“I’m good,” you reassure him, leaning into his touch. “I’m just happy to be here.”

Drew smiles, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “I’m happy you’re here too. Rustyn and I are both lucky.”

The two of you sit quietly for a moment, watching as the rest of the family chatters and jokes around the room. Every now and then, someone will come by to check on you or ask how you’re feeling. It’s clear that Drew’s family is just as excited about the baby as the two of you are.

At one point, McKayla plops down on the couch next to you, her eyes bright with curiosity. “So, have you guys decided on the nursery theme yet?”

You smile, thinking about the nursery you and Drew have been working on together. “We’re thinking of a woodland theme,” you say. “Something soft and cozy, with lots of little animals.”

“That’s perfect,” she says with a grin. “I’ll have to come over and help you decorate.”

“You’re welcome anytime,” Drew says, smiling as he leans back in his chair, his hand still resting on your belly. “We’ve got most of the basics done, but we could use some help with the finishing touches.”

“Absolutely,” she says excitedly. “I’m so ready to be an aunt.”

After a while, dinner is announced, and Drew helps you up from your chair, always making sure you’re steady on your feet. You appreciate how attentive he’s been—he never lets you lift a finger if he can help it, and he’s always right there to offer you support when you need it.

The dining room is a sight to behold. The long table is set with elegant Christmas decorations with candles, holly, and sparkling ornaments lining the center—and the smell of roasted turkey, mashed potatoes, and fresh bread fills the air. Plates of food are spread out across the table, and everyone takes their seats with excited chatter.

As soon as you sit down, Drew’s mom is at your side, serving you a generous portion of all your favorite dishes. “You need to eat, sweetheart,” she says kindly, her eyes full of warmth. “You’re eating for two now.”

You chuckle softly, feeling grateful for the way she’s been so attentive all evening. “Thank you,” you say, feeling Rustyn shift again as if he knows you’re about to eat.

Drew sits down beside you, immediately reaching for your hand under the table. “Make sure you don’t overstuff yourself,” he murmurs, his voice gentle as he gives your hand a squeeze. “I don’t want you feeling sick later.”

“I’ll be fine,” you assure him with a smile, appreciating how much he cares. “I know my limits.”

The dinner conversation flows naturally, with Drew’s family sharing stories and laughter as they pass around plates of food. You find yourself at the center of much of the discussion, with everyone asking questions about the pregnancy, how you’re feeling, and what you and Drew are most excited about once Rustyn arrives.

Drew is quick to jump in anytime someone mentions the pregnancy, his face lighting up with pride as he talks about you and how incredible he thinks you’ve been. “She’s been amazing,” he says at one point, his voice full of admiration. “I don’t know how she does it, but she’s handling everything so well. I’m in awe of her every day.”

You blush at his words, feeling the love and warmth radiating from him. It’s moments like these that remind you just how lucky you are to have him by your side.

As the meal winds down, the conversation turns to the future—what next Christmas will be like with a baby in the house, how excited everyone is to meet Rustyn, and all the little things Drew and his family are looking forward to once he arrives.

“Just think,” Jodi says with a smile. “Next year, we’ll have a little one crawling around under the tree. It’s going to be magical.”

“I can’t wait,” Drew says, his hand still firmly holding yours. “It’s going to be the best Christmas ever.”

After dinner, you and Drew retreat back to the living room, where the fire is still crackling softly and the Christmas lights twinkle in the dim light. You’re settled back into your comfortable armchair, and Drew is right beside you wih his hand rests on your belly, gently rubbing soothing circles as the two of you sit in peaceful silence.

You sip on a cup of hot cocoa, savoring the warmth of it as you lean back into the chair, feeling Rustyn move inside you. It’s moments like these, surrounded by love and warmth, that make you realize just how special this Christmas is. It’s your last Christmas before Rustyn arrives, and while you’re excited for all the Christmases to come, there’s something undeniably magical about this one.

Drew looks at you, his blue eyes soft in the firelight. “You good?” he asks, his voice gentle as he watches you with concern. “You need anything?”

You smile at him, feeling your heart swell with love. “I’m perfect,” you say softly. “This has been the best night.”

Drew’s face brightens, and he shifts slightly so he’s facing you fully. “I’m glad,” he says, his hand still resting on your belly. “I just want you to be happy and comfortable. You and Rustyn.”

“We are,” you assure him, reaching down to thread your fingers through his hair. “We couldn’t be happier.”

Drew leans into your touch, his eyes closing briefly as he takes in the moment. “I can’t believe he’s almost here,” he whispers, his voice full of awe. “Two more months, and we’ll be holding him in our arms.”

You nod, feeling your throat tighten with emotion. “I know. It’s hard to believe, isn’t it?”

Drew smiles, his eyes full of love as he looks up at you. “It’s going to be perfect. You’re going to be the best mom.”

“And you’re going to be the best dad,” you say softly, brushing a hand through his hair. “Rustyn is so lucky to have you.”

Drew’s face softens even more, and he leans down to press a gentle kiss to your belly. “Hey, little guy,” he murmurs, his voice so full of love it makes your heart ache. “We’re all here waiting for you. But take your time, okay? We’ll be ready whenever you are.”

Rustyn gives a little kick in response, and Drew grins, his eyes lighting up. “Did you feel that?”

“I did,” you say with a laugh, resting your hand on your belly. “I think he heard you.”

Drew laughs softly, leaning his head against your belly again. “He knows his daddy’s voice.”

The rest of the evening passes in a peaceful blur of laughter, warmth, and holiday magic. As the night winds down and the rest of the family heads off to bed, you and Drew find yourselves alone in front of the Christmas tree, the house quiet and still.

Drew pulls you close, wrapping his arm around your shoulders as the two of you sit in the soft glow of the Christmas lights. “Next Christmas, we’ll have a little one with us,” he says softly, his voice full of wonder. “Can you believe it?”

You smile, resting your head on his shoulder as you feel Rustyn shift inside you. “It’s kind of perfect, isn’t it?”

“More than perfect,” Drew whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “You’ve given me everything I could ever want.”

Your heart swells at his words, and as you sit there, wrapped in each other’s warmth, you realize just how much love you have in your life—and how much more love is on the way with Rustyn’s arrival.

[moonberry69]

Some of the comments about Raf's spicy card make me kind of sad. Of course, everyone is entitled to their own opinion so no hate to the people who share this opinion about his card.

I've seen quite a few people comment on how they thought Raf's new card was disappointing because the spice level wasn't the same as the other guys. Some have also commented on how most of Raf's cards are disappointing overall due to him "holding back" and that's why a lot of people prefer the other guys over him.

I think it all boils down to preference and the guys' individual personalities. Raf's cards, like all the guys, display his personality (one side of it anyway). He holds back because he's afraid due to past events. He isn't boring. He's hesitant, scared, and traumatized and all of that revolves around the woman he is bonded to, madly in love with, and desperately wants. Raf is also a deeply passionate, emotional lover. That isn't boring. It just isn't they type of love everyone wants. His card was emotionally charged, sensual, and romantic. It displayed Raf's spicy love language, which isn't as aggressive as the other guys. He's softer and gentler when showing how much he loves and cherishes her. Despite everything he's done or is involved with, he is a pretty gentle guy. His cold, aloof, and brutal attitude toward others is what he has to maintain if he wants to survive, protect, and accomplish his goals. He went feral in his hotel room once his restraint snapped. He was needy. The way he grabbed MC and carried her before throwing her on the bed. The intense make-out session and his annoyance at being interrupted by the phone call. The way he grabbed her and pushed her up against the window because he couldn't bare composing himself anymore and was desperate to have her. Raf exhibited the entire card how difficult it was for him to hold back how much he wanted MC. Raf is just a romantic and poetic man and he's softer than the other guys when it comes to love making.

That isn't for everyone and that's cool, but to call him boring shows a bit of a misunderstanding of him as a character, I think.

His card also focused on some easter eggs lore, Raf dealing with some heavy thoughts/ feelings about himself, MC, and their relationship, and he and MC deepening their relationship. It also showed MC being so tender, honest, and sincere with Raf and her feelings towards him and the way she kept reassuring him so openly made my heart melt. This card had it all, to me. I love that it wasn't all “smut” but a mix of everything.

I do wish his kindled scene would have been a bit longer and I really don't like how we are shown almost the entire scenes in previews (with any of the guys/banner cards). Overall, though, I thought Raf’s card was perfect.

Again, no hate to anyone that didn't like the card! Just thought I would share my thoughts/opinion.

[madaqueue]

SUCK HIS...GLOCK?!

the sensationalized bullshit around some dangerous serial killer tormenting the city is honestly pathetic. so no, you don't see the point in changing your routine, because you aren't a coward like everyone else. that is, until one wrong turn brings you face to face with him.

pairing: serial killer!toji x f!reader

themes/content: dark content (gunplay, dubcon). smut. petnames (pretty, doll, slut), mentions of past murders, teasing, reader is kind of mean to toji lmao, begging, licking/deepthroating a gun, oral (m!receiving). 18+, MDNI (wk: 2.0k)

a/n: i would match his freak (he would literally kill me) (also sorry this title is so stupid but it made me laugh hahahaha)

quintober masterlist | sign up form

“There’s a serial killer on the loose!”

Everyday for the past week the message had been drilled into your mind - every news station, every text from your parents, every thought from the general public seemed to vibrate in sheer terror at the mere idea of some illusive murderer. And yet, you can’t help but roll your eyes at the theatrics.

A serial killer, seriously?

You thought everyone outgrew this overdramatic bullshit when they turned thirteen or something. The fact that not even fully grown adults dared to go outside out of fear just solidified how truly pathetic everyone had become.

So, you take the opportunity for what it is, boots echoing along the empty streets as you enjoy a barren town. Dead leaves blow along the sidewalk in front of you, scurrying out of your path. It’s a nice day, you think, the breeze tickling your skin and the sun warm despite the autumn chill settling in. Of course you weren’t going to miss it, your footsteps falling louder and more determined with each step.

Because you weren’t a coward.

A particularly cold wind brushes past you, the muscles in your legs shivering on instinct. Reaching into your jacket to check the time, you find your pockets empty save for a few hair ties and a small wad of cash. The image of your phone resting on your kitchen counter flashes across your memory for a moment as you silently grumble at your own forgetfulness.

But it’s no matter, you’ll just head straight home. Everything will be fine, you reassure yourself in an effort to shove down the growing nervousness in your stomach.

Rounding the corner, your vision catches an alleyway you’ve seen a few times on walks home with friends. Surely, that would get you home even faster, a real stroke of fate. Your feet stall for a second as you gaze down it, the darkness of surrounding buildings casting a haunting shadow. Taking a steadying breath, you will yourself forward.

Because you aren’t a coward.

Shoving your hands further into the worn material of your pockets, your shoes land heavily on the uneven cobblestone. A water droplet falls on your shoulder from one of the broken pipes overhead, and you grimace. This town gets shittier every year. That pit in your stomach is back, but sheer determination carries you onward.

Because you aren’t afraid.

In an instant, the sigh that had been building in your lungs is forced out as your cheek is shoved into the crumbling brick lining the alley.

Rough hands encircle your wrists, pinning them against your back.

The weight of someone much larger presses into you from behind.

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doin’ walkin’ all by yourself?” His voice is almost impossibly low, carrying the teasing lilt of thunder before lightning. “Haven’t you heard there’s a serial killer running around?”

The rock in your stomach lodges in your throat as he laughs, hot puffs of air hitting your neck.

Trying to gauge your odds, you crane your head to get a view of him, roughly scraping your skin against the reddened clay. Just as your eyes manage to catch the dark cloth of his shirt, something presses to your forehead.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, doll,” he preempts. The gun in his hand trails lower, landing between your eyes, the cool metal making you shudder. “I would hate to have to hurt ya.”

Your mouth is dry as ideas course through your mind, running through scenarios to escape this fucked up situation you’ve found yourself in. “I-I have money! You can have it, if you let me go!”

He just chuckles again, and you swear you see a glimpse of a scar at the corner of his lips, adding it to a mental note of anything to help you identify him later. “Oh sweetheart, you can’t actually think I’m doing this for the money, do you?”

Your thoughts stall for a moment. “B-but…but why then…?”

Leaning towards you, his face is now only inches from your own. The scent of tobacco lingers on his breath. “Because I like to see the fear in someone’s eyes when they know they’re gonna die.”

You can’t stop the smirk spreading across your lips. You know it’s stupid - you shouldn’t taunt the fucking murderer holding a gun to your head - but you almost want to laugh.

“Seriously?” Your throat is scratchy as you stifle a chuckle. “That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

This time, he doesn’t stop you when you turn to face him.

“What, are you making eye contact with every single person you kill? You have a fucking gun, dude - are you really sitting there, this close, waiting for them to die? Or is that just some line you say to make people afraid, to try and make them beg for mercy?”

That scar shifts as his mouth twitches. Just as he inhales to respond, you continue.

“Oh, I get it! I bet that’s what you get off on, right? The begging?”

His eyebrows quirk, adjusting his position so green eyes stare back at you, mischief dancing behind them. “What if it is? Are you gonna beg me not to kill you if I tell ya that’s what it takes?”

The silver of his gun catches in the flickering sun as your gaze falls upon it. You look to it, then to him, then back to it.

Now, you know what it really takes to get you out of this. Because at the end of the day, he’s just some guy who got a weapon and a bit too much confidence. Sure, maybe he killed those people, but it’s only because they were too stupid to figure it out.

Men like him don’t want some pathetic little bug to crush under their shoe. If he did, he would’ve shot you already.

He wants someone to tell him ‘no,’ to shove around his ego a little. Someone to play with him.

Oh, and you’ll play.

Because you, unlike all those other scared little babies, aren’t a coward.

“I don’t have to fucking beg.”

Green eyes shine like poison as they watch your movements - your neck tilting, lips parting, tongue poking between them. Licking a slow stripe up the barrel of his gun, the taste of metal and dirt coats your senses.

When you reach the top, he lets out a groan, one that morphs into a breathy laugh.

“Well, isn’t today just my lucky day.” His scar delves into the creases of his mouth as he smirks. “Wonder what good deed I did to be rewarded with such a pretty little slut.”

Fucking pathetic.

You want to laugh at him, the predictability - it’s almost overused at this point, you think. The scary serial killer who just wants to get his dick wet, you’re practically quaking in your boots.

But instead of pointing out how boring his whole cliche is, you allow your eyelashes to flutter closed, taking the chamber further past your lips.

It’s cool against the heat of your mouth, tracing the crevices of it with your tongue.

You wonder if this is actually what he used to kill all those people - it almost tastes too clean to be a true murder weapon. Like he ran it through the mud on his way here to try and make his little act seem all the more convincing. Clearly, it didn’t work.

From behind, you feel something poke into your ass. Something hard. Using his weight to push you further into the bricks, his hips grind against you, his growing cock dragging along the curves of your body.

You gasp reflexively at the sensation, eyes shooting open only to be met with his locked on your face, dark hair falling over his forehead.

“Some fuckin’ mouth on you, heh.” It’s like you can watch the gears turning in his mind. “Let’s see what else it can do.”

Sensation begins returning to your wrists when they’re released from his bruising grip. It takes nothing more than a heavy palm on your head for you to land on your knees, rubble shifting beneath your jeans.

All too predictable.

With your newly freed hands, you make quick work of undoing his belt, tugging his waistband down to reveal his cock. It’s thick, flushed and hot in the cold autumn air.

From this angle, you can see the way he sparkles against the sky. Excitement vibrates his nerves as he leans forward, resting a forearm along the brick above your head. The muzzle’s cold metal presses into your temple, but it barely even phases you at this point, melting into the warmth of your skin.

You lick your lips at the way he twitches, watching you drag your palms up his thighs. One hand slowly wraps around his base as you place his tip between your lips, and the man above you moans.

You almost, almost, let a giggle slip.

Isn’t he supposed to be the one threatening to kill you?

And now, you’ve literally got his balls in one hand, the pistol in his fist dropped to his side.

Fucking hell, is this really all it took?

Some serial killer.

You continue pumping his length as you lightly lick the precum pooling along his slit, letting the salty taste linger on your tastebuds. Whatever, you’ll do what you have to do to get out of this.

But it’s not a crime to have a little fun with him, right?

Your tongue swirls around his tip before you take him further, pushing past the ring of muscles lining your throat. He lets out a choked gasp of, “Fuck,” and the rasp in his voice almost makes your pussy clench. Almost.

Taking him deeper and deeper, you can tell he’s getting close from the way he’s starting to thrust his hips forward, little by little.

But now, it’s your turn to play with him.

Pulling your mouth away, you admire the way his cock bounces as he whines at the loss of your warmth.

This time, you don’t stifle your smirk.

The palm wrapped around his base continues stroking him slowly, almost too slowly.

“W-what the fuck do you think yer-”

“Beg.”

His parted lips nearly fold into a frown, eyebrows furrowed in some mix of confusion and frustration. But you didn’t stutter.

“C’mon now, mister ‘serial killer.’ If you wanna cum, you know what you’ve gotta do.”

Sliding up and down his base, you pump him in pace with his ragged breaths.

Between his ribs, his heart races. “Y’know I could fucking kill you.”

And your eyes glimmer, your pace slowing. A silent challenge.

But you won’t.

He tosses his head back, the muscles in his thick neck contracting as he swallows.

“F-fucking - fine. Jesus, fine, whatever.”

Shifting your weight, your thighs rub together in excitement. The silver of his gun flashes as he raises it to his head, scratching the back of his scalp with the muzzle in an attempt to diffuse the growing tension inside him.

“Make me finish already, doll.”

“Aww,” you coo, squeezing his heavy balls in your free hand. A shiver runs up his spine. “That’s not exactly asking, now is it?”

He hides his pleasure behind annoyance as he groans. “Just - fucking, make me cum already.” You bat your eyelashes at him, and he grumbles something under his breath. “Please.”

“See, was that so hard?” you hum, pleased. “Even serial killers can have some manners.”

Taking him back into your mouth, you trace the veins of his shaft with your tongue, just as you did with the barrel of his gun. Each ridge, following its path up and down.

Something metal clammors onto the ground behind you, but you pay it little mind. Two hands wrap around your head, holding you in place.

“Fuck, just like that,” he moans. “Fuckin’ take it.”

His balls twitch as he releases into you, hot liquid pouring down your throat.

As you swallow, the palms on your scalp release their tension. Looking up at him with wide eyes, you wipe the spit from the corners of your mouth.

He rubs his face with his forearm, a smirk plastered across his lips, that cute little scar decorating the corner. Beside you, something reflective catches your eye - his gun, laying abandoned on the ground.

Some fucking serial killer.