#but i needed it to still be quite serious | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

keikikait · 2 days ago

Text

ʙᴀʙʏ ʙʟᴜᴇ (ʀᴀꜰᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴇʀᴏɴ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

pairing: rafe cameron x pogue!f!reader, (not au, both are early to mid 20s)

word count: 4.8k

summary: you're just one of his many conquests, so why does he need you?

warnings: ANGST, friends with benefits, mild yearning/pining, rafe cannot handle his emotions, ward mention, slight jealous!reader, not proofread

a note: idk if i ate. i'm sorry that it's a little short. :( also, my stalker!rafe fic needs SERIOUS work, so i decided to upload this instead. i am very unhappy with it.

please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

Sometimes you think you aren’t meant to be loved.

It’s almost comical, the way you just sit there and take it. The way you let him walk all over you, taking bites out of you just to toss you aside for later. He cut off slices of you when he needed, never taking the full thing. Always little samples, just to keep you hooked. He would chew you up and spit you out, and you would always come crawling back.

You watch as Rafe dresses himself, eyes landing on his ass as he pulls up his boxers. He always dresses so quickly, not even handing you a towel as he paces around your room, gathering his things. At first, you thought he just didn’t like your apartment. You were a Pogue, after all, even though you were lucky enough to move to a nicer area of The Cut. You spent a lot of time redecorating, trying to make it a little bit nicer. A little bit cleaner. Anything to get him to stay.

Your apartment was small. Cozy. Quaint.

It reeks of you. And that’s why Rafe won’t stay.

Rafe turns around, catching your eye. He can’t help the small smile that stretches across his lips as he pulls his jeans on. “Admiring the view?”

“For as long as I can.” You say.

Your response surprises him, and his eyes widen just slightly. He stares for a moment, unsure of how to respond. He clears his throat, breaking eye contact. “You’re too sweet for your own good.” He mutters, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling his socks on.

“I wish you would stay.” You mumble, aching to reach out and touch him. But you don’t.

“I know you do,” Rafe sighs, tying his shoes on. “But I can’t, sweetheart. You know that.”

“I do.” Your voice is soft.

“So why do you keep asking me to stay?” It comes out angrier than he intended. But maybe you needed that.

“I…” You swallow hard. “I don’t know.”

“My answers always no. Why do you keep askin’?” Rafe stands, grabbing his wallet and keys off of the bedside table. “Shit’s starting to piss me off.”

“I’m sorry.” You say, sitting up, holding the duvet to your chest. You feel like you’re always telling him that.

“Quit being sorry. Just stop fucking asking it,” He turns to face you. “Jesus. It’s not that hard.”

You don’t know what to say. You nod, looking down.

Rafe sighs, running a hand through his hair. He can’t deny, he loves when you look like that. Sad. Vulnerable. It drives him wild. His gaze lands on your neck, bruised and marked by his teeth. Possession looks good on you, He often thinks.

But that was it. He could only take so much of your submission. He couldn’t take you asking him to stay, too.

“I won’t ask again.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, still avoiding his gaze.

His jaw tightens and he stares at you. He wants to take you and claim you. To show you were his, and only his. But he didn’t want to keep you. Why would he? “Good.” Rafe walks around the bed and stands in front of you. He reaches out, grabbing your chin and forcing it up. “And look at me when I’m talking to you.”

You nod, looking up at him, mascara still smeared on your under eyes.

Rafe studies your face. God, you always looked so beautiful like this. Broken and upset. The sight had him wanting to take and claim you all over again. But the look of submission in your eyes makes him want to push you even more. “You look pretty like this.” He murmurs, pushing your neck to the side and looking at the hickeys on your neck. “It suits you.”

“Thank you.” You say, although you don’t like it. You didn’t like this version of you, the pathetic girl who would do anything and everything for one iota of his attention; but it got him into your arms, so that’s really all that matters.

“I wonder why that is? Why you look so pretty when you’re crying?” His fingers lightly trace over your collarbone, sending a shiver down your spine. He knows that it doesn’t matter whether you like it or not. You were addicted to him, craving his attention more than you craved anything else. You’d take whatever he gave you. That was the only thing Rafe loved about you.

“Because my lips get all pouty, and my eyes get all red?” You guess, resisting the urge to lean into his palm.

Rafe almost laughs at your answer. It was cute. “Hmm,” He runs his thumb over your bottom lip, gently brushing them. “Yeah, probably.” His eyes meet yours, staring at your face. You were so easy to break. So easy to control. You’d let him do whatever he wanted, no fight or protest. Just endless submission. It was addicting.

You’re getting restless. “Have any plans today?”

Rafe’s hand falls from your face, and his jaw tightens. You always did this. You always try to make small talk, try to create some type of emotional connection between you, even though you knew deep down that he didn't give a shit about you or about your day. “Yeah. I do.” He picks his jacket up from the bed. “Have to go visit my dad's lawyer. Then I’m meeting some friends.”

“That sounds fun,” You say, although meeting with Ward’s lawyer must have something to do with life insurance. “Uh, being with your friends later, I mean.”

“Yeah.” He mutters, shrugging his jacket on. He grabs his keys from the bedside table and glances at you. It’s hard, watching you try to connect to him. He knows that you want more than this. You want to be his girlfriend. You want the world to know you’re his.

But that couldn’t happen. And you knew that.

“Are you, um…” You shift on the bed, the duvet falling just a little bit. “Are you gonna come back over tonight?”

Rafe glances at you, eyes falling to the duvet. God, he loved how you were always trying to keep him around. He loved watching you try and fail to keep his attention. He lets out a deep breath, running a hand over his buzzed head. “Do you want me to?” He already knows your answer.

“Only if you want to,” You say, trying to not come across as even clingier than you already are. “You know my door’s always open for you.”

He sighs and rolls his eyes. You were always so predictable. So needy. So willing. He starts to wonder when he'll get sick of it. “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” He grunts, picking his phone up off of the bedside table and shoving it in his pocket. “I don’t know yet. Might be with Sofia tonight.”

Your soft smile drops, just for a second, and you hope Rafe doesn’t notice.

Sofia.

Sofia?

Who the hell is Sofia?

You knew everyone he hung out with. Every girl. You had tabs on all of them, shamefully. You didn’t know who the hell Sofia was. Had you missed someone? How had she managed to slip through the cracks?

Under the covers, you dig your nails into your thigh. You had to act casual, as normal as you could be. You were always treading thin ice with him, and you couldn’t risk losing him over this. Your smile returns and you give him a nod. “Cool. Just text me.”

Rafe watches as your smile falters for a moment. He knows it. He knows that you’re jealous. There was no way that you weren't. It didn’t take much to make you jealous. He could make one passing comment about a girl, and you’d spend the rest of the day worrying, wondering who she was. That's why he brought up Sofia, and why he always mentions his other girls to you. Something about the idea of you laying in bed, terrified and anxious to lose him, really excited him.

He smirks as you quickly regain composure, knowing that he got to you. “Yeah. I’ll text you.” He says, turning to leave.

“Drive safe.” You say.

He stops as he stands in the doorway. Something about you telling him to drive safe always made him… feel guilty. It was that damn softness you always had and used against him. He glances at you over his shoulder, swallowing whatever sentiment he was feeling. “Sure thing, sweetheart.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

You hate Sofia.

After a bit of sleuthing, logged into one of your many burner accounts, you finally find her. She’s a Pogue, like you, and for some reason you find that it stings more. She’s gorgeous, absolutely beautiful, the sweetest girl around, and you fucking hate her.

Rafe had a roster. A rotation, the same few girls on repeat until he got bored, where he would swap a few out for fresh meat. You don’t know how you managed to stay on the roster for this long, but you weren’t complaining. Maybe Rafe thought you had another guy out there, filling your cunt and your bed when he was gone, but you didn’t. You’re too busy being Rafe’s to fall for somebody new.

You used to not care about the other girls. The more and more he mentioned them, though, you got curious. You started looking them up on Instagram, stalking their profile through burners and analysing every post. Every story. None of the girls ever looked like you. None of the girls were like you at all. Why did he like them, and why did he like you?

You wonder if he treats the other girls as poorly, or if in some twisted way, you’re special. You could handle being the only girl that Rafe treated like shit if that meant you stood out to him in some way. You wonder if he fills their necks with hickies, too, if he grips their hips too hard and leaves bruises, if he spanks them until his handprints form welts on your ass cheeks.

You hoped to God you were special.

You tried to distract yourself, running errands and tidying your apartment, but you kept thinking about him. About his stupid baby blue eyes, and his stupid pretty face, and his stupid hands and the way they felt around your neck. You didn’t want to be in love with Rafe fucking Cameron, but you feared you were already in too deep, and soon you would drown, falling below the surface, hand outstretched, hoping just this once that he would pull you up.

You sit on your bed, in the dark and the silence, staring at your phone, waiting for it to light up. Waiting for him to text you, to need you.

The hours pass. Midnight. One and two. Three. Before four o'clock rolls around, you still have nothing. You know that you should just give up and go to bed. He probably passed out at his friends’ place, too drunk and too tired to text you, but you keep telling yourself that he's just busy. That he's gonna wake up any moment now and shoot you a text.

You're praying that something happens, that something keeps you up and keeps you waiting for those messages that you know he most likely won't send. You want him to finally fucking want you in the way that you want him. You didn’t like feeling this way, it wasn’t fun to constantly torture yourself, but is it not fun to feel many other ways? If it wasn’t Rafe, it would just be someone else. Another man, someone else’s son, reminding you that no matter how hard you try, you just aren’t meant to be loved.

Why don’t you do it for him? Why aren’t you enough to get him to stay?

You tap the screen, and it lights up. No new notifications.

“Shit.” You mumble, your hand retreating to your side.

You sigh and lay back, staring at the ceiling. Of course, he isn’t going to text you. Why would he? Why would he do that to you, when he never had before? This is exactly what you expected. This is exactly what he loves. Making you doubt, getting you jealous. It gets him off. It’s a game for him. You were his prey, and he was your predator.

As you lay, staring at your ceiling, you hear three, quick knocks on your door.

At first, you think you’ve imagined them. You sit up, your feet sliding into your slippers as you pad into the living room. You stand there in silence, in the dark, only listening to your own breathing. You’re about to turn around when there’s another knock, this time loud and pounding against your door.

You cross the rest of the room, undoing the locks and opening the door.

Standing on your doorstep, of course, was Rafe, hands in his pockets as he stares you down. He seems… tired. He had dark circles under his eyes, probably from staying out late. He glances at you from behind those tired eyes, his gaze falling over your body. He’s taking note of the oversized t shirt you’re wearing, and how your hair is dishevelled and messier than it was before. He could tell you had been lying down. “Can I come in?”

Something's off, you can tell. He’s acting different, even though it’s just subtly. You watch him as he chews on his lip, an anxious habit he didn’t think you noticed. “What’s wrong?”

Rafe’s expression falters for a split second, before he quickly regains his composure. He was fine. Nothing was wrong. Except for the fact that you asked him that. He looks over you. “Nothing,” He responds, his voice harsh and biting. “I just wanted to see you. That’s all.”

You don’t believe him. He normally carries himself with intense confidence and gravitas, so much so it constantly inks into your lungs and chokes you, but this was different. He felt different. “Right.”

He swallows hard, shifting on his feet. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like the way you were looking at him. Concerned, like you cared. He glances away from you, sighing. “Can I come in?” He repeats his question, eyes flicking between you and your living room.

You nod, stepping aside and holding the door opening, flicking a light switch. One of your lamps turns on, casting a warm, soft glow over your living room.

Rafe strides into your apartment, immediately heading for your couch. Everything in your place was so damn cozy; the warm light, the soft couch, your scent lingering on every single inch of every single surface. He collapses back onto the couch, arms spread out and legs splayed. He runs a hand over his face, swallowing hard.

You sit next to him, and for a while, you two sit in a comfortable silence. You look over at him, pushing some hair behind your ears. Your voice is soft when you finally speak. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

Rafe closes his eyes, sighing as you speak. He didn’t want to tell you about Ward. Not when you were like this, so gentle and caring. He was exhausted, to say the least. He was dealing with so much, all at once, and he didn't know what to do. Finally, he looks at you. In this lighting, with your hair messy and your eyes concerned, you looked even more like the sweet girl he always wished you were. Sweet and caring and loving. “Today was my dad's funeral.”

Your shoulders droop, and your eyes soften. You had no idea. He had only mentioned visiting his father’s lawyer to you yesterday morning. “Shit, I’m sorry, Rafe. I’m so sorry.”

Rafe almost groans. He loved you when you were soft, when you were sweet. He loved it more than he cared to admit, but right now he hated it. He hated it when you were this caring. It made him doubt everything. He glances at you, a lump in his throat. He hated when you looked at him that way. Because he knew that no matter what he did, you would always have that warmth in your eyes when you looked at him. You would always forgive him, no matter what he did.

Part of him wishes his dad could’ve met you.

You reach out and put your hand on his shoulder, trying not to overstep. Rafe stares down at your hand, so small in comparison to his shoulder. Something about it makes his chest tighten. It seems intimate, and he feels… safe. Safe with you. Which is a feeling he hasn't felt in God knows how long.

His hand slowly lifts, his rough fingers wrapping around your wrist. He brings your hand to his face, cupping his cheek. Your thumb brushes over his cheek gently, back and forth.

God, the feeling of you touching him, comforting him, was too much. Your touch was too gentle and warm, and he hated that he wanted it. He hated the way his chest ached at the sight of your soft, kind expression. He had so many reasons he shouldn't be here, shouldn't be letting you touch him like this, and yet there was something inside of him, a small voice in the back of his mind, constantly begging him to please let you take care of him. “Can I ask you something?”

“‘Course.” You say softly.

Rafe glances at you, eyes flicking between your hand and your face. God, he hated this. Your touch on his face, the tenderness in your voice, the look in your eyes. It was driving him absolutely insane. His eyes close, as if he was debating if he actually wanted to ask you this. “Am I poison? Am I poison in the water?”

“What do you mean?” You ask, eyebrows furrowing.

He opens his eyes again, hand still holding yours to his cheek. He holds your gaze, eyes softening. He hated how vulnerable he was, and yet there was a small piece of him, buried deep inside, that needed it. He could tell you anything right now, and you wouldn't judge him. You would just listen. Care. “Do I… poison everything I touch? Am I the poison that kills everything?”

“No, of course not,” You move closer to him on the couch. “Why would you ask that?”

God, he could smell you, your perfume a subtle, sweet scent that was driving him crazy. He closes his eyes as you move closer, and his jaw tightens. This was insane; he wasn't weak, he wasn't vulnerable, he did not need you. But then again, the hand on yours on his face had yet to move. “Because,” his voice drops to a whisper. “I know that I'm a sick, twisted bastard. I know that I make others sick. I hurt everyone I care about.”

“Rafe, I will admit you aren’t exactly the nicest guy,” You swallow roughly, unsure of what to even say. “But you still have people that care about you. Your friends, your sisters. They know the real Rafe, the guy underneath all the aggression.”

He lets out a long, shaky breath. God, he hated this. He hated being vulnerable. He hated opening up to you, and seeing that look of concern in your eyes. He wants to run, to close you out, leave and forget this ever happened. He wants to go back to treating you like one of his conquests, instead of feeling like he wanted you to hold him. But for some reason, his mouth wasn't listening to his brain. “But what about you?”

“Of course, I care about you,” You say. “I thought that would at least be obvious.”

He had a thousand different replies on the tip of his tongue, but instead his mouth just opened and closed, words dying when they left his lips. Everything in his mind was screaming at him to get up and leave, but there was a deeper part of him, a small piece of himself that he kept buried inside, deep in the back of his mind, that kept whispering, telling him to sit. It was the part that kept his hand on your wrist. He swallows hard, looking away. “I wish my dad was still here.”

“I know,” You say softly. “I’m sorry.”

He felt his eyes begin to sting, something that only added to his frustration. Frustration at himself, for being pathetic enough to cry. Frustration at you, for making him weak enough to cry. Frustration at Ward, for leaving him and his sisters behind. He suddenly hated everything. He hated you. He hated himself. He hated Ward for leaving him with feelings, making him weak. “I don't even know why I came here,” He mutters through gritted teeth. “I just... I wish I could've been good enough for him. I tried to be good.”

“You don’t know how Ward truly felt about you, Rafe.” You say, stroking his cheekbone again.

He hated the way you were comforting him, hated the way you were so gentle with him. He was always on the defensive, on the attack, so when someone was soft with him... Well, the way his chest ached was proof that it was something he wasn't used to. He swallows hard, closing his eyes. “But I do. His actions spoke louder than his damn words ever did,” He chuckles, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It's so stupid, you know, I... I used to pray I’d be like him, do everything that he did. And sometimes I still do.”

“That’s not stupid.” You say.

He lets his hand fall from your wrist, shaking his head. He hated talking about this, he hated admitting how much Ward’s death has messed him up. He didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to open up to anybody. The words leaving his lips, however, were not his own. “I hate that I don’t know if he was proud of me... I hate that I’ll never know if I did right by him.”

You remove your hand when he goes to cover his face. You watch him for a few moments, unsure of what to do, when you notice his shoulders shake.

Is he crying?

Your eyes widen when you hear a sob rip through him, shoulders shaking up and down. “Hey, hey, Rafe, it’s okay. Don’t cry.”

He hated crying, absolutely hated it, but there he was, shoulders trembling, tears streaming down his cheeks. He couldn’t stop, no matter how hard he tried. “I’m not even- I…” His voice breaks, chest rattling. He lets out a long, shaky breath, shaking his head as he wipes away the tears from his cheeks. He couldn’t even look at you. He hated feeling so weak. Hated that you were seeing this side of him.

“It’s okay,” You put your arm around him, trying to hug him. “It’s okay--”

Rafe suddenly stands, pushing you back. “No. Don’t… don’t fucking pretend like you care.” He wipes his tears with the back of his hand, ashamed that he let Ward affect him this much. He was supposed to be strong. Powerful. Not weak.

“I’m not pretending.” You say, standing up.

His jaw tightens, his expression hardening into a sharp glare. God, he was tired of you, of your sweet words, of your gentle smiles. It was messing with his head, playing with his feelings. “Yeah, right.” He mutters, shaking his head. “You don’t care, don’t bullshit me.”

“Of course I care about you, Rafe,” You say, taking a step closer to him. “I… I lov--”

“No!” He suddenly snaps at you. He didn't want to hear that. He couldn't. “Don’t… don’t you dare,” You stare at him, confusion on your pretty little face, and it’s driving him fucking crazy. “Don’t. Don’t tell me. Keep that shit to yourself.”

You don’t know what to say, and you don’t want to upset him even more. You just nod, taking a step back.

He wanted to hit something. He wanted to break something. He hated the sight of that look on your face. The confusion, the worry, the disappointment. He didn’t understand. Why did you care? He didn’t deserve it, not one bit. What the hell did you think you’d get out of loving someone like him? That he’d love you back? That he’d change for you?

The silence is deafening. You want to say something, you just don’t know what. You take a shaky breath. “I’m here for you, Rafe. You know that. In any way you need me.”

“Why?” He asks suddenly, eyes meeting yours. “Why are you still here for me? Why do you care about me so goddamn much? Why can’t you just give up on me, like everyone else has?”

“Do I look like everyone else?” You ask.

Oh, but that was the problem. You were different. You were the only person in that damn town who was as sweet as you were patient. Who cared so god-damn much about someone so undeserving of that love. “Don’t you think I know that?” He asks, voice dropping to a whisper. “Don’t you think it pisses me off that you are the way you are?”

“I just want you to be happy, Rafe, and if I can make you happy, I want to.” You say.

Why did you have to be so goddamn sweet? It was driving him mad, the way you stood there, so willing and eager to do whatever it took to help him. He let out a long, shaky breath, staring down at you. “It was different when you were just some girl I was hooking up with.” He says, shaking his head.

“I’m still that girl,” You insist. “Nothing has to change. We can go back to normal. Forget this ever happened.”

His eyes narrow as you speak. He hated that you said that, hated how willing you were to forget the fact that he cried in front of you, and yet he hated himself for the fact that he almost wanted to agree. “Really?” He asks, his voice sharp. “You’d just… forget this? Go back to letting me use you, like nothing happened?”

“If that’s what you want.” You say.

He hated the idea of that. The idea of going back to using you. Of treating you like trash when he knew that you cared so damn much.

Part of him liked hurting you, like watching you fall apart at his hands. But it was the other side of him that hated how good it felt at first, hated the pit of shame in his chest that grew each time you begged him to stay, or cried while he left, or looked at him like he meant the world to you.

Part of him knew you deserved better.

Rafe sighs, looking away. “Fine. We forget about this.”

“Okay.” You say, nodding.

The fact that you didn't say anything, that you didn't fight back, made his chest ache. God, he hated this. He wanted to yell at you. Wanted to push you down, pin you to the couch, and make you cry out his name. He wanted you to ask him to stay, fight him to prove to him that you cared. He hated how your willingness to forget it all made him want to wrap his arms around you. He couldn't stay. He would do something risky, something that he would regret in the morning. He sniffles, wiping his eyes again. “I'm gonna go.”

You swallow thickly. “If you’re sure. My door is always open.”

“Yeah,” He replies, his voice hoarse. He hated that your gentleness, your sweetness, still managed to get to him. He steps closer to you. He wanted to touch you again. To feel your warm, soft skin against his palm. But he knew better. He knew that if he touched you, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. “Thanks for being there.” He mumbles, his voice cracking.

“Of course.” You smile softly.

He hates how your smile makes his chest ache, hates the tug it gives his heart. He hated how he cared about you, hated how he was so weak that he allowed himself to open up to you. And God, he hated how he was thinking about kissing your pretty, pouty lips. “I'll be back tomorrow night. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Rafe nods, licking his lips. He rocks back and forth on his feet before reaching out and cupping the back of your head, pressing his lips to your forehead. Enough to keep you hooked. “See you later, sweetheart.”

Your entire body is buzzing. “Drive safe.”

You’re still standing in the same spot when he leaves, shutting the door behind him.

And you will wait for the next time he wants you.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

blagh

★taglist: @ietss, @teenwolfbitches28, @gilwm, @momoewn, @drewsphswife, @odairtrqsh, @wearemadeofstardust0, @rafesbabygirlx, @slumnit, @evermorx89, @ivy-34, @ts1mp0ne, @drewstarkeysstuff, @kayreblogs, @rafeycameronsgf, @lulbabes, @xomarryamox, @montanajgbn, @koalalafications, @stylestarkey, @loves0phelia, @lhhlver, @katecokeed, @cwufst, @user381953, @wintergirlysstuff, @emberaurora, @wtfisastiles, @bluejeepgirl11, @artistadistrada2002, @fastlovela, @lucifersie, @marlenee3e, @koibleufish, @ashleyyy323, @rafesdoll, @dasia21, @blairsblg (italics means i couldn't tag you!)

join my obx taglist here!

331 notes · View notes

penvisions · 2 days ago

Text

I’m not new to this kind of stuff, but it does hurt still. Very much.

tw for racism and racial slurs under the cut

This was a comment left on the series I was so excited to write and share with y’all. I am excited to write and share. But this comment is not only extremely hateful, it’s also extremely unsettling with how casually they hurled a loaded insult at me.

“Spic” is a very serious thing to call someone. It’s a racial slur that I’ve heard before, had aimed at me before, and it’s not a good feeling.

I preface a lot of fics with detailed tags and warnings. From angst to the reader insert I’d written in more of an OC and formatted like an x reader. I’ve explained a few times while I use English a lot in my daily life, it is not my first language. Pronunciation and some nuances are lost on me but is more noticeable in my academic writing for university.

This is a hobby. This is something I indulge in because it makes me happy and telling stories is the most genuine human thing we do.

To be targeted like this and in the barrage of hateful anons lately really takes the fun out of it. And I hate that that’s my takeaway in an otherwise positive little corner I’ve found here.

I don’t really have anything else to say other than this type of behavior is not okay. It’s demeaning, it’s steeped in ignorance and malice. It makes me feel way too many things and my voice isn’t quite working on the matter beyond this.

I try to keep it positive here, to interact with intention and kindness. With good words and compliments but I feel like something needed to be said about this.

Please block this user and please be kind to one another.

#dev talks #personal #tw racsim #tw racial slurs #tw discourse #ppcu #ppcu fandom

166 notes · View notes

insidekatmind · 2 days ago

Text

His favorite- Mason Greenwood

Wearning: slight smut

Request: yes!

You’re crouched beside the injured footballer, your hands steady as you apply pressure to the wound. The stadium is filled with the echoes of distant cheers, but here, in this small corner of the medical area, it’s just you and the player.

Then, a familiar voice cuts through the air—sharp, irritable, and unmistakable.

“I don’t trust you enough to take care of it,” Mason Greenwood’s voice growls.

You don’t even need to look up to know who it is. Mason’s tone has always had that edge, one that could leave anyone in his path on edge. You’ve seen it often—his fierce loyalty to those he trusts, his unwillingness to let anyone near what’s important to him.

“But—” comes the quiet, uncertain voice of a medic you’ve never seen before, interrupted immediately.

“I said no,” Mason snaps, and you can practically hear the glint of frustration in his voice. “I want y/n to have a look at it, not you.” The words are sharp, filled with authority, and you feel an involuntary rush of warmth at his insistence. “No offense,” Mason continues, his voice turning slightly colder as he shoots a stern glare at the medic.

You can hear the faint shuffle of footsteps as the medic steps back, clearly unwilling to argue with the player. But now, your focus is divided—on the footballer in front of you and the unexpected tension that's beginning to build in the air around Mason.

You glance up, locking eyes with him. His usual composition is fractured by a flicker of something—concern? Protective instinct? You don't know. His eyes soften when they meet yours, as though he's trying to gauge your reaction.

“Y/n,” he mutters, voice quieter now but still laced with authority. "Please, I need you to check him over." There's a vulnerability in his voice, a subtle shift that makes you realize just how much he values your expertise.

You nod, finishing up with the injured player before standing and walking toward Mason. There's no question about it. You're trusted by him—and in this moment, that trust feels like more than just words.

“Hey pretty boy” you murmur, moving closer to him.Mason glances sideways at you, the corner of his mouth twitching with a smirk.

“Don't call me that,” he grumbles, the sternness of his voice immediately betrayed by the flicker of a smile.

You smile and crouch down next to him. "What happened to you?"

Mason shrugs slightly, wincing as he does. "Just a little collision. Nothing too serious," he responds quietly, though the tension in his body suggests otherwise.

You roll your eyes not believing him at all and begin to take care of him.Mason fidgets as you work on him, clearly attempting to seem unaffected but failing quite spectacularly.

“Ugh, stop,” he mutters as you prod a particularly sensitive spot.

"Does it hurt?" you ask looking at him."Nah, it's all good," he replies automatically, and a flash of skepticism crosses your face. You press against the spot again, and he winces, a small gasp escaping his lips.

"Okay, so maybe it does hurt a little," he grudgingly admits.

Take some cream and put it on him. “You need to rest,” you say softly.

Mason reluctantly allows you to apply the cream, a hint of reluctance flitting across his face. But when you tell him he needs to rest, he shakes his head.“I’m fine,” he says adamantly, though you can see the strain in his eyes. “I have a game tomorrow, I can’t just take a break.”

You look at him sternly. "No Mason, you will rest tomorrow".Mason holds your gaze for a moment, the stubbornness in him clearly unwilling to back down. But he seems to see something, a determination in your eyes that he’s familiar with, and he lets out a sigh.

“Fine, but just for tomorrow,” he relents, the hint of a pout on his lips.“we'll see how you feel tomorrow” you say and put some gauze around him. "Why did you attack the other doctor?"

Mason looks away, a flicker of defensiveness in his eyes.“I didn’t attack him. I just told him I wanted you to take care of it,” he mutters. “I don’t trust him as much as I trust you.”

"Hmhm" you murmur in amusement.Mason notices your amusement and shoots you a glare.

“Don’t give me that look, you know it’s true,” he mutters. “I trust you more than any other doctor here. You’re…you’re different.”

You smile and look at him. “He has more experience than me,” you say softly and hand him a bottle of supplements. "drink it".

"More experience, but not more skill," Mason grumbles, accepting the bottle but looking at it with disdain."This stuff tastes vile," he complains, but he unscrews the cap and downs it in one gulp.

You shake your head in amusement and massage his leg to ease the tension in his muscles. “They're supplements, they're good for you,” you say softly.

Mason leans back slightly, a sigh escaping his lips as you begin massaging his leg. The tension he’d been holding seemed to ease as your hands worked over his muscles."I know, but they taste like absolute crap," he grumbles, though the complaint is more for show than real anger.

You smile and continue massaging his leg. “stop complaining” you say looking at him amused. Mason tries to maintain his grumpy expression, but the way your hands are working on his leg, combined with your amused look, is enough to break through his facade. He lets out a heavy sigh.

"Fine, I'll stop complaining," he grumbles, though there's a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Good boy,” you say and continue massaging him. That simple phrase, ‘good boy’, has an almost instantaneous effect on him. His body seems to relax even further under your touch, a small shudder running through him.“Don’t call me that,” he mutters, but the usual annoyance in his tone is noticeably lacking.

"You don't like it?" you say amused. Mason’s cheeks redden slightly, and he stubbornly avoids your gaze.

"N-No, I don’t," he protests, his voice faltering.He’s lying, and you both know it. You smile as you look at him, knowing full well it was a lie.

His cheeks redden even more under your gaze, and he avoids eye contact, clearly embarrassed to be caught out in a lie.“Stop looking at me like that,” he mutters, trying to sound irritated, but mostly just sounding flustered.

You look at him with a smirk. "Like what?" Mason glances at you, and his already flushed cheeks turn an even deeper shade of red when he meets your smirk.

“Like…like that, “ he stammers, clearly flustered by your gaze. “Just…stop it.”

You continue to look at him with your usual smirk. “You need to be more specific,pretty boy” you say teasing him. That damn nickname again.Mason is clearly struggling to maintain his usually cocky demeanor under the weight of your gaze. You can practically see the thoughts racing through his head, conflicted between annoyance and a growing heat in his stomach.

“Just…stop teasing me,” he mutters after a few seconds. “It’s not fair.”

You smile and move closer to him. "Do you want me to stop?" You say in a sappy, seductive voice. Mason’s breath catches in his throat as you move closer. The defiant glimmer in his eyes falters, replaced by a mixture of surprise and growing need.

He swallows, visibly affected by your tone, and shakes his head slightly.“No,” he whispers, voice hoarse and strained. “Keep going.”

You continue moving closer to him, amused by his reaction. He’s struggling to hold onto his usual aloof exterior, your proximity and tone affecting him more than he’d like to let on.As you get closer, he looks up at you, eyes meeting yours. His breathing is slightly labored, and he swallows again.“Don’t tease me too much, or I might do something stupid,” he murmurs, both a warning and a plea.

You smile, enjoying seeing Mason flustered. He's usually so cocky and confident, seeing him off-kilter is both amusing and a little pleasing to you."Is that a threat or a promise, pretty boy?" you retort, your voice still low and seductive, your face mere inches from his now.

Mason’s throat tightens, the proximity of your bodies causing a surge of adrenaline to race through him. Your words, spoken in that sultry tone, almost drive him over the edge.He’s quiet for a long moment, his normally steely gaze vulnerable and torn. He looks like he’s waging an inward war with himself, clearly struggling against impulses that threaten to overtake him.Finally, he lets out a low sigh, his voice hoarse. “Both,” he responds, his words barely higher than a whisper.

Your smirk deepens as he whispers that single word, “both.” There’s a dark heat in his eyes now, a look of desire that he’s no longer trying to hide.“Both, huh?” you say, leaning in a little closer, your lips almost brushing against his ear. “And what exactly might you do, if I keep teasing you?”

Mason’s breath hitches as he feels your lips brush against his ear. The tension between you is nearly tangible now, the air heavy with anticipation.He shudders slightly, and a soft noise escapes his parted lips, a mingled sound of need and frustration, as he struggles to maintain his already shattered composure.“I’d…I’d do something stupid,” he mutters, voice raw with barely suppressed desire.

Your smile widens, his reaction a clear sign that your teasing is affecting him exactly how you want.With a slow and deliberate motion, you move even closer, pressing your body against his, feeling the heat radiating off him, the way he’s taut and tense with the weight of his restraint.“And what exactly would you consider ‘stupid’ right now?” you murmur, your lips hovering near his neck, so close you can feel his frantic pulse.

Mason’s body tenses as your body presses against him, your words sending a shiver down his spine. The last of his restraint is quickly unraveling, replaced by a growing need that’s nearly overwhelming.He swallows, trying to maintain some level of control, but it’s a losing battle. His voice, when he responds, is strained, full of restrained hunger."Anything," he whispers hoarsely, his words a confession and prayer. "Anything you'd let me do."

Your smirk turns into a sly smile as you hear the raw honesty in his voice. This powerful, usually so confident man is practically at your mercy, teetering on the edge of control because of your teasing.You move even closer, so that your face is just mere millimeters away from his, your lips tantalizingly close to his.“Anything, hm?” you murmur, your voice a sultry whisper. “You sure about that?”

Mason’s breath comes in ragged pants, his eyes wide and feverish, staring at your lips as if hypnotized. The heat of your bodies pressed against each other, the way you’re teasing him with your proximity and tone, is almost too much for him to bear.He swallows, and it takes him a couple of seconds to croak out a response. “Yes,” he stammers, voice ragged. “Please….anything.”

Your smile turns victorious at his eager response. He's unraveling so beautifully under your touch, so quickly losing his usual composure. It's a power trip, seeing him this vulnerable when he's usually so untouchable.You brush your lips against his, a ghost of a touch. "Anything," you repeat, the word a sultry promise against his skin. "I can be very persuasive, you know."

A soft moan escapes Mason’s lips as you brush your lips against his. The sound is a clear admission of his desperation, and a sign that he’s rapidly losing control.His body trembles beneath your touch, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, as he struggles to restrain himself. He looks like a marionette whose strings have been cut, helpless and at the mercy of your actions.“Y-yes,” he stutters, his voice barely a breath. “Please, I’ll do anything—“

You relish the sounds that are escaping him, the way he's coming undone with just your touch and whispers.You move even closer, your lips ghosting over his again, almost but not quite kissing him. This game is too much fun, and you're enjoying seeing this man, who's usually so composed, unravel before you."Anything, huh?” you murmur against his ear, your lips just barely skimming his neck. "You're really desperate, aren't you?"

Mason makes a sound that’s somewhere between a gasp and a whine. He’s so on edge that the slightest touch or sound from you sends a wave of need through him.“Yes,” he whispers, the admission ripped from him, unable to lie in a situation like this. “I…I am. I need you…so badly.”He closes his eyes, a shudder running through him as he surrenders to his need.

You smirk, loving how easily you’ve reduced him to begging. It’s a power trip, being able to manipulate him so shamelessly. But you’re not done yet.You lean even closer to him, your body pressed flush against his. You can feel his heat, the thudding of his pulse, the need that’s making him shiver. You whisper in his ear again, your voice a sultry purr.“How badly?”

Mason lets out a shaky breath as your body presses against his. The feel of you against him, the way you're whispering in his ear, it's all too much. He's so close to the edge, and he can barely think straight.“So badly,” he breathes out, his words a desperate confession. “I need you so badly it’s driving me insane.”He moans softly, leaning his head back to give you better access to his neck.

Your smirk deepens as you see him submit further, his body arching under your touch.You take advantage of his offered neck, placing kisses there, trailing your lips along his vulnerable flesh. At the same time, you murmur against his skin, continuing your sultry questions.“How badly do you need me, pretty boy?” you ask, your tone soft but commanding.

Mason’s breath hitches as your lips touch his neck, the sensation sending a shockwave of need through him. He’s completely at your mercy, all his usual composure shattered.“Very badly,” he gasps out, his words punctuated by soft moans as you continue to kiss his neck. “I need you so badly I can’t think straight.”He’s practically pleading with you now, his voice wavering between need and desperation.

You smile at his words and bring your lips to his and kiss him. Mason lets out a low moan as your lips finally meet his. He’s been desperate for your touch, and the feel of your lips on his is like a salve to the fire that’s been burning through him.He responds immediately, kissing you back with a desperate hunger, as though trying to pour all his need and helplessness into the kiss. His hands, which had been clenching and unclenching by his side, now move to your waist, pulling you closer to him.

You respond in kind, kissing him deeply, your tongue slipping into his mouth to taste him. You can feel the tension coiled in him, the way his body trembles in response to your touch.You press yourself against him, revelling in the way he clings to you, his hands gripping your waist tightly, like he never wants to let go. His kisses are desperate, his need for you obvious and raw. Mason’s hands tighten on your waist, pulling you even closer to him. He kisses you with a near-desperate intensity, as though trying to quench his need for you with each touch of your lips.He moans again, the sound muffled against your mouth, as he drowns himself in the feel of you. The tension coiled within him is reaching its peak, and he’s so close to losing control completely.

You gently pull away and gently caress his face. “Relax, we have all the time in the world,” you whisper softly, stroking his shoulders. Mason draws in a ragged breath as you pull away, the loss of your touch immediately leaving him feeling bereft. But your words and gentle touch on his shoulders help to ground him, pulling him back from the edge of desperation.

He looks at you with eyes darkened by need, his breathing still ragged. "I don’t- I don’t know how long I can last," he rasps out, the admission raw and honest. You smile softly and kiss his jaw. “We can't do this here, let's go to me” you whisper softly.

Mason lets out another low breath as your lips touch his jaw, the sensation only further stoking the fire within him. But he's rational enough to understand that this isn't the place for what he wants to do to you.He nods, almost obediently, accepting your suggestion. "Alright," he murmurs, his voice raw with need. "Let's go."

103 notes · View notes

multi-fandom-imagine · 2 days ago

Text

꧂ 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓨𝓾𝓵𝓮 𝓑𝓪𝓵𝓵 || With Fred & George Weasley ||

• Fred Weasley•

Fred Weasley leaned casually against the stone wall in the corridor, waiting for you to finish speaking with your friends. His twin, George, had teased him mercilessly about his sudden interest in making a grand gesture, but Fred had waved him off with a grin. This was his moment, and he was going to make it memorable.

As you turned and spotted him, Fred straightened, a mischievous sparkle lighting up his brown eyes. “Ah, just the person I was looking for!” he said, stepping forward with his signature grin.

You raised an eyebrow, used to his antics but curious nonetheless. “What are you up to, Weasley?” Your head tilting to the side as a smile tugged that the corner of your lips.

“Me? Up to something? Never,” he said, feigning innocence, though the corner of his mouth twitched. “Actually, I came to ask you something important. Very serious business.”

"Is that so?"

Fred pulled a small, glittering box out of his pocket and held it up dramatically. “I’ve been pondering this for ages—well, alright, a few days, but who’s counting?” He winked as he flicked the lid open to reveal a miniature dancing figure of the two of you, twirling to music only it could hear.

Your eyes widened, a laugh escaping before you could help it. “What is this?” It was cute, something you weren't expecting from the prankster and you were honesty curious on how he even made something like this.

“This,” Fred said with a flourish, “is me asking if you’d like to go to the Yule Ball with me. Because, you know, I could ask anyone, but you’re the only one who actually makes me nervous enough to think I need to bribe you with tiny enchanted figurines.”

Biting your lip, you couldn’t help but smile as you looked up at him, his usual bravado softened by a flicker of hope in his eyes. “And if I say yes, do I get to keep this?” You asked stepping closer to the tall redhead.

Fred smirked. “Say yes, and I’ll throw in free dances all night. But if you’re not impressed, I’ll just have to figure out a bigger way to win you over.”

Holding back your laughter you pretending to think it over. “Well, I suppose I could do worse than free dances and enchanted figurines. Alright, Weasley, you’ve got yourself a date.”

His grin widened as he slipped the box into your hand. “Brilliant! I promise, you won’t regret it. Unless, of course, I step on your toes. But in that case, I’ll make it up to you with snacks—courtesy of the kitchens....and I do know the best way to get into the kitchens”

Fred offered you an exaggerated bow before walking backward down the corridor, still grinning. “See you at the Ball, partner!”

As he turned the corner, you couldn’t help but shake your head, laughing to yourself. Leave it to Fred Weasley to make something as simple as an invitation into a moment you’d never forget.

•George Weasley•

George Weasley had never been one to back down from a challenge, but this was different. As he leaned casually against the cool stone wall of the dungeon corridor, his usual confidence faltered. His eyes darted toward the approaching figure—a Slytherin girl who had caught his attention far more than he cared to admit.

“Alright, Weasley, you’ve got this,” he muttered under his breath, though his palms felt clammy, betraying his nerves.

As you approached, your head tipped to the side,your sharp green and silver tie standing out against your robes, George straightened up. You were used to the Weasley twins’ antics, but George’s nervous energy was unmistakable today. He ran a hand through his unruly hair, his usual grin not quite reaching his eyes.

“Hey! Fancy running into you here,” he began, his voice slightly higher-pitched than usual. “Though I suppose it’s not that surprising, what with this being…you know, the Slytherin common room corridor and all.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “You’re not lost, are you, Weasley?”

“Me? Lost? Nah.” He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, maybe a little. Not geographically, of course. Just, uh, trying to find the courage for something.”

Your curiosity piqued, your lips twitching into a smile watching him. “Go on.”

George cleared his throat and finally looked you in the eyes, his freckled cheeks faintly pink. “So, the Yule Ball is coming up. Big fancy event, lots of music, dancing, snogging under enchanted mistletoe—” He stopped himself, realizing he was rambling. “Anyway, I thought… well, I was wondering if you’d want to go with me?”

Your lips then curved into a smirk, enjoying his rare moment of vulnerability, it was cute, seeing someone who's usually so confidant become a stuttering mess. “You, a Gryffindor, want to take a Slytherin to the Yule Ball? What would your brother say?”

“Oh, Fred would love it. He’s already got bets going about whether I’d manage to ask you,” George admitted with a sheepish grin, the tension easing slightly.

You considered him for a moment, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make him sweat. Then, finally, you smiled—genuinely this time. “Alright, Weasley. I’ll go with you. But don’t expect me to let you off easy if you step on my toes while dancing.”

His face lit up, his grin wide and relieved. “Deal. Just be prepared for the best dance of your life.” He gave you a wink though his body stiffened when you placed your lips against his cheek.

"See you around Weasley." Giving him your own wink you waved him off as you walked away and as you turned toward the entrance to the Slytherin House, George let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He might have been nervous, but at least now he had something to look forward to—showing the whole school just how well a Gryffindor and a Slytherin could dance together.

#drabbles #drabble #HP #JKR is a hoe #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x y/n #george weasley x reader #george weasley #george weasley x you #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x fem #george weasley x slytherin!reader #slytherin #slytherin reader

89 notes · View notes

hoiststowline · 3 days ago

Note

Heloooooo

I see your reqs are open

I'd love to see reader using hotrod/rodimus as a heater and Roddy being like sorry I can't get up their asleep.

rodimus x reader

[a/n: hello!! & thank you, this was sm fun to write!]

He swears he has it down to a perfect science, but he’d rather keep that to himself than try to justify his second grade equation at best to Perceptor who rolled his eyes four times during the explanation. It benefits you first, the most important part- and at the very least the other two things that follow after are just collateral he was willing to accept.

Rodimus should not have access to the thermostat. That is evident when the temperature always seems to fluctuate dramatically about an hour before he’s needed to appear for something, whether it be a meeting or a routine sweep to ensure everything was in working order.

It’s always the thermostat right within your wing of the ship, locked but always broken into. The bottom button almost appears damaged, as if the offender had clicked it so many times it had begun to become worn-down and unusable.

As if on cue, roughly about fifteen minutes after the crime occurs, you’re shuffling into his room with a blanket wrapped around your shivering form. Rodimus can’t entirely feel the drastic change, he can sense it’s colder than normal, but the dipping temperature always sends you into an adorable pout.

“It’s broken again?” You murmur, each syllable accompanied by a visible breath. “That’s the third time this week,”

“I don’t think it was ever really fixed from last time,” It’s almost pitiful, the way he can’t even try to contain his smile. “Just got worse, I guess.”

He observes you, finding patience for about two seconds before he’s on his feet, being selfish for just another moment. He loves you, and wants nothing more in this instance than to give you undivided attention and sloppy kisses.

“What?” You ask, tilting your head back to meet his gaze. “I came here to complain, I didn’t-“

But both he and you knew that was a lie. You’d walked perfectly into Rodimus’ trap, perhaps subconsciously seeking his warmth that you knew he radiated. The Prime was a walking heater, and he had ensured early on that you were well aware of it.

Somehow, he’d coaxed you to his side. You couldn’t quite pinpoint the moment exactly, but it was most likely when your hands began to tremble from the cold. No amount of blankets could save you, especially within a metal ship where every surface ran about thirty degrees cold on average.

Rodimus always says the same thing every time, about how you slot so perfectly between his shoulder and helm. The most important spot, where he can rub his cheek along your stomach and keep you safely positioned there with his right servo. It’s effective, as the first time you’d actually found his chassis ran so hot you almost couldn’t bear it.

“Don’t you have a meeting in like thirty minutes?” You mumble, impossibly tiny fingers tracing random lines along his helm.

“So you’ve got thirty minutes. Take it or leave it,” He’ll never let you leave, because he enjoys this far too much. Like he said, he’s helping to solve your immediate problem, but the bonus is that he gets this time with you, alone, and the small hiccup was just that.

It isn’t very long before you’re asleep, entirely still as your breathing evens out. It’s perfect, and how you haven’t caught on yet is a mystery for another time, though he has his own suspicions you’re far wiser to this than you display. It wouldn’t matter, even if he didn’t have to break the thermostat every other day or so, because it was all part of the fun.

Right on time, the door to his room slides over, and there stands a certain bot he’d been precariously avoiding. “You cannot be serious.” Magnus whispers, only being compliant because it was you, not so much for Rodimus’ sake. “This is the third time this week. You can’t get out of your responsibilities because you’ve tricked y/n into your schemes.”

“Sorry,” That ever sincere smile appears, gesturing to his company with a hushed tone. “Can’t do anything about it until they wake up. You’ll have to carry on without me,”

And like always, Magnus departs, mildly frustrated, but he can’t ever find the sense in waking you up. For a while, it keeps Rodimus appeased, and if he has to sacrifice some broken thermostats and delayed meetings to achieve it, then it’s worth it.

#sul tf writes #sul answers #rodimus #transformers #maccadam #transformers idw #mtmte #transformers x reader #rodimus prime #rodimus x reader #rodimus idw #transformers rodimus

124 notes · View notes

bronx-bomber87 · 2 days ago

Text

Hello amazing fandom and happy Wednesday :) Episode 3 off we go! So grateful to have my happy place back. To be able to do these first impressions. I love not knowing a single thing about this season really. Rachel being in the recap blew my mind. Like what?! Love the shock. Had zero clue she would be here this season. Let us get started.

7x03 Out of Pocket

We hit the ground running in this ep. Grey yelling at them to come to his office in front of the entire bullpen.... Lucy calling him the troublemaker we all know he is this year. heh Also he is one perpetually now thanks to you my dear. Brought out his playful side long ago. It’s been here to stay ever since. Love Tim replying it’s a fair assumption. Not fighting her on this even a little bit. It's fantastic.

Will say I love how Tim naturally jumps on the grenade for her. Old habits die hard. Or never die at all…Lucy isn’t here for it though. Still a little bristly (rightfully so.) Also I'm sure she thinks it isn't a good look that he does. Commenting she doesn’t need him to protect her. Grey is bemused by them and their flirty fight, but does have to rein them in because of course he does. LOL You can tell he’s happy they’re acting this way even if it's driving him nuts.

Tim jumps into apology mode. Not wanting to ruffle her feathers. It truly is a hair trigger response from him to shield her. He can't help it. Like breathing for him. Grey basically calling them out for their work flirt. ‘A weird itch they need to scratch’ heh I mean it is. Their version of foreplay let's be honest. Lucy seems quite embarrassed he has pointed this out.

Tim on the other hand....He is cheeky af in this dressing down of their's. ‘We didn’t put any money on it.’ With a big ole smirk on his face haha Oh my lord. No shame in the game for him. Who are you and what have you done with Tim Bradford?

Lucy is taking it seriously af. Where this goob to her left is cracking jokes and what not. Her face kills me. Like what are you doing? Do love seeing him be lighter and not so serious about everything. It’s delightful. Therapy is doing him wonders truly. Now Lucy isn’t as airy as he is but that’s ok ha

Tim you so cute apologizing and saying why he tried to protect her. Needing to defend why he did as such. That, if they were going to go down, should be him, since it was his idea after all. Lucy is much kinder outside of Grey’s office though. Saying she said yes to the whole thing. So it's just as much on her as it is him.

Do adore her jumping right back into it with wanting to finish this out. That they still have time. This way they can check each others methods. Lucy continuing the work flirt of their's. I am down. The smiles on these goobers I cannot. Lucy’s face when he walks away. My goodness you still love that man. *happy sigh * I love these idiots.

Rachel out of nowhere. Oh my lord. Do love these recalls to previous season's we're getting this year I have to say. Characters and all. Seems like they’ve kept in touch. First thing I thought was wondering about that. I had questions running through my head at her return. Like she must know Lucy dated Tim? Does she know how madly in love she was with him? (and still is...)

Sucks N.Y. chewed her up and spit her back out. Man it’s a trip to see her. From another life. Truly. S2 feels like it was eons ago. They were much different people back then. When Rachel said she hadn't contacted Lucy in 6 months....Knew that meant she didn't know of the emotional horror our girl went through.

Thus begins the digging up of wounds that have yet to heal. Detective exam and Tim..... Oooh boy. The two pillars that nearly broke her. Kinda glad for her asking about it in a way. I wanna see where Lucy truly is emotionally right now. Been having a feeling it's not great under the surface.

The fact Lucy is now trauma dumping shows she isn’t ok. Which of course she isn’t. She had a trio of trauma last season. Between detective, Tim and Tamara. The way Lucy says Tim broke up with her…. Ugh my heart. A wound that hasn’t healed for this fandom either. It's not going till until this is hashed out and reconciled.

‘Screw him. He’s an idiot right?’ *sigh* I mean a good response for Rachel though. It's what you say to a friend going through that. ‘It’s all for the best…’ Is it though? Oh my girl still wanna hug you and make you better. That has not gone away since 6x07.

Tim comes up not expecting his past to be standing there. He pulls out the Sanford Smile we haven't seen in awhile lol The one where he's clearly uncomfortable and his smile isn't reaching his eyes. You can tell he is confused and slightly unsettled. I mean they didn't end on the best terms after she started her life in N.Y. Now here she is in the station next to his girl. What a trip for him.

‘She ghosted me.' 'Yeah that’s her thing…’ We never did see what happened there. She was all in for long distance then she was gone just like that. Tim did a good job pretending he was happy to see her. The Oscar goes to you my love.

Poor Ridley is shaking in his boots. On edge waiting for a 'Tim test.' But he was prepped by Lucy in a way Tim wasn't expecting. Seth has his 'I’ve been shot answer.' right away. Too quickly really. Tim is sus af. Grilling him if Lucy warned him? It does explain why he was looking out the windshield as they were driving LOL Tim asking what else she told him?

Oh my word she recited chunks of her trauma training to Seth. Majority of her s1 ones at that. Except for the flour bomb. I’m dying. These call backs to s1-s2 are making me giddy to no end I have to say. She really dug in their archive to tell him about Wrigley. I'm laughing so hard. Tim is shaking his head so hard and I’m cackling. Playing dirty Lucy….’Ok I just have to get more inventive.’ He is not pleased LMAO Legit undermined him.

Texas instantly putting his foot in his mouth with Lucy. I was wondering if he thought be easier with Lucy. Or he thought he could charm his way into her being lenient. But he has never met Lucy Chen....Learns quickly how much that was not going to fly with her. I love Lucy putting him in his place immediately about 'darlin.’ That isn't going to stand for even a second with her. She makes sure he knows that.

The banter is PRIMO when Tim arrives. We get to see protective Tim arrive on scene again with Miles. I love it. Lucy doesn’t stop him this time. Knowing Texas needs it from both barrels if it's going to stick with him. But mainly I just love Tim immediately not having it with that shit for her. Any bravado remaining is squashed by Tim calling Penn 'Darlin' hehe

This is a mini moment that made very happy. You defend her Tim! Immediately protected his girl from Grey’s clutches about the rookies not listening. Gimme. I'll take this all damn day. That innate reaction to protect her is deeply ingrained in this man. I love it so much I could cry. Lucy once again not stopping him. Appreciative he has her back in this moment. The little things is how we inch our way back.

Poor Lucy so worried this will be another black mark against her career. Regardless of who won this is a loss for them. Adore Tim being positive with her. Saying as long as they don’t fire them, they have a chance to turn them around. Make them into good cops if given that chance. Love this. Look at Tim being the positive one. Only for his girl. Lucy looking to him for answers makes me happy. Asking what their chances really are? ‘Slim to none….’ Heh helpful babe real helpful.

It is nice to see Lucy catch up with Rachel. This is an ally we forgot she had. One that was far away in N.Y. So it's nice they get to reconnect. Not only that but be very mature about it. Especially about Tim. Celina getting a history lesson on the side is a hilarious bonus. lmao Frigging adored Rachel's 'Well yeah.' Like of course we would be friends still. Emotional maturity. Love to see it.

I love love love Rachel seeing Tim and Lucy were the better match. Rather than her and Tim. Doesn't even hesitate to bring that up in their convo. I said it many times in my s2 reviews. Forever grateful for the path she set Tim on. She was his first post divorce relationship. A Lucy 2.0 to get him ready for his soulmate.

Rachel is the fandom when she makes her comment about their break up. Trust me Rachel none of us expected the emotional devastation that was last year….it’s been 9 months and I’m still not over it tbh. Idk I'll be over it until they have reconciled. It's the gut punch none of us have really recovered from.

Lucy just breaking my heart all over again. Saying she made all these moves for them to be together. Only for it to blow up in her face. *sad sigh* You sure did.... Our boy has A LOT to make up for. That it taught her to just focus on her career. I mean I truly hoping that is the case this season for her. That we can some true clarity for her career. Nothing I want more (other than a reunion.) ‘No more messy station romances.' Sure sure mmhmm....

Those boys are LUCKY. They are trending online in a positive way or their asses would be grass. The defiance cannot be overlooked. I love Tim/Lucy standing next to each other as they back Grey. The little things I love so much. Forever in awe of insane amount of physical chemistry they have just standing next to one another.

The lack of personal space never a thing with them. It makes me happy to see it. Post 6x06 the physical distance could be FELT between them in every scene till 6x09. Felt like the Grand Canyon for awhile. So this is so nice to behold. Once again the little things that make me so happy. We're on the slow road to healing.

I wanna get into this scene and what it represents to me. I did always wonder what happened between them. After 2x20 she just fell off never to be heard from again. So this was nice to get. Tim can claim he didn't need closure but he did. This scene is an olive branch from Rachel to Tim. Just like when Isabel came back in 5x20. The return meant to be a healing one. Nothing more. Took guts for her to do this. If she wants back in Lucy's life Tim comes with that. Breakup or not. She knows this. Best to smooth this over before she can rebuild her life.

Do I find Rachel a threat? No. No I don't. Why you ask? Because this isn't 13th grade. These are grown ass adults. This isn't a H.S. or Teen drama. Just because she came back doesn't mean trouble for Chenford. Hell the woman even said Lucy was the better fit for him. One of the biggest complaints I saw last season was Lucy's support system. Someone who was in it has returned. This is a wonderful thing for Lucy. A win she so deserves. I just wanted to be the voice of reason in case anyone the fandom was worried with this scene.

That man could not be more in love with Lucy Chen if he tried. And vice versa. He is kind and courteous with Rachel. To me, mainly because post-therapy, Tim can see when someone is trying to make amends. Hell it's what he's trying to achieve everyday with Lucy. Also like to note it's not his mega watt Lucy smile. That is reserved only for his girl. But it is a 'second chance' smile. Like Lucy stated earlier in the ep. A second chance is a clean slate. This is just that if she is going to be in Lucy's life again. I'll be intrigued if she makes another appearance or not. We shall see. Every ep we are one step closer to them healing some more. I cannot wait to see what 7x04 brings.

As always. Thank you to the amazing readers I have. Your likes, comments and reblogs mean everything to me. Truly comment away I love it. As long as its respectful I adore chatting about this season as we go along. Shall see you all next week :)

~~~~

Side notes

Tim being the cold open. And breaking through Nolan's security system. I cackled so hard. Then is a sexy beast leaning against his bookcase. Pops a soda. Never wanted to be a can so much before.... ‘That’ll owe you two more Lakers tickets.’ LOL I love this man.

Poor Wes is gonna implode. Every time he hears that detectives name he shudders. Losing it a little more each time.

With the ladies saying let nature take its course with Jason. HA I'm with them. But of course Nolan being a boring boy scout won’t do it that way.

Anyone else think it’s weird Nolan doesn’t wear his wedding ring? I would hate if Tim didn’t wear his after their wedding.

Also going without backup after this guy. Like this man hasn’t learned at all from his mistakes. Do you not remember s2 you dope? Balian's reunion was as lackluster as they are. Welcome back Bailey. I did not miss you madam sorry ha

#Caitlin's First Impressions #chenford #The rookie 7x03 #7x03 Out Of Pocket #the rookie #tim bradford #lucy chen #tim x lucy #lucy x tim #s7 #tim bradford x lucy chen

50 notes · View notes

alicefromwhichplanet · 3 days ago

Text

(For the kids)How do you feel being your parents’ child? What kind of person is your carrier/sire?

Skystrophe:

Oh, these questions are… unusual. (Look around anxiously) So am I allowed to say anything..? Will they watch this show…? Ok…

I wanna say that many bots say it’s lucky for me to have Optimus and Megatron as my parents… but the truth is, having them as parents really brings me a lot of pressure. It’s… not so easy to be the only child of two extraordinary people, and you know you’re not so extraordinary yourself. I mean, I am only “just ok” at many things they can easily do great. It’s just… I’m still trying to figure out.

My carrier is a very strong bot. By that, I mean he’s powerful, not only in battles and strategies, but in the will. I think there’s nothing in the world that can defeat him, or make him feel defeated. When he’s with us, he’s always happy, confident, full of energy. When sire feels unsure, he is there to boost his spirits. When I feel insecure, knowing that he is there for me, always makes me feel better.

My sire, on the other hand, is umm, stricter. I know he means well. He told me all about those stories of heroes and primes, and responsibility comes with strength. He’s a lovable bot, of course. And he’s gentle with me. It’s just, I don’t know. Maybe it’s the way he talks. He makes me feel… nervous.

Jinglestorm:

Being my parents’ child, it’s a lot of fun! They both like to play, so I’ve got plenty of time playing with them. We go racing on the plains, have a picnic in the woods, or play chess and other board games at home. Oh! And they love video games too! We also play video games.

And my sire, he’s a wonderful bot. He’s fun, energetic. He talks a lot, which is sometimes a little bit annoying. Hmm. But he’s actually the decision maker in our house, kind of? Him and my carrier take turns being the brain. But because of my carrier’s “unstable” issue, sire did play the brain most of the time, though he sometimes came up with bad ideas and I had to stop him from dragging us all in.

My carrier is— very well known among us kids. The cool triple changer, the only one alive by now.* He is also not very stable, and we know that. Besides that, my carrier went through a lot in past wars. Sometimes he’s still haunted by his past ghosts. But he doesn’t need to worry, because I am always there for him.

*It’s my headcanon and part of the plots of Heroic Nonsense, where Blitzwing’s triple changer form came from a secret experiment project carried out by autobots. The project failed because most of the subjects suffered serious complications— they developed split personality disorders and became overly aggressive and easier to get killed in the battlefield. Blitzwing is the only survivor.

Clobber:

Hmm, I don’t know. I guess I’m lucky to be my parents’ child. I’m happy and comfortable living with them. My parents knew each other for very long before I was born. They have a tacit understanding that made everything simple. We three are quite alike as well.

My carrier is the brain of our family. It’s easy to tell. Sire even calls her “General” as a loving nickname. And also, she’s really my role model. Her talents go beyond military strategies. She has wisdom and courage to deal with a lot of trivial stuff as well. As for my sire, he’s more of a kind-hearted, good tempered bot. He cooks really well and takes all the gardening work. By that I mean, work like making a fishpond in our backyard. More delicate job like planting is done by me. I heard that they were notorious decepticon war machines in the past. I always imagine how badass they can be! But I don’t have the luck to witness that. All I got are two big bots fond of their own hobbies and get along well with the neighbors.

Just for the reminder:

Skystrophe— Megatron and Optimus’s son, Megatron is the carrier

Jinglestorm— Blitzwing and Bumblebee’s daughter, Blitzwing is the carrier

Clobber— Strika and Lugnut’s daughter, Strika is the carrier

More worldbuilding see my fanfic Old World, New World

22 notes · View notes

obsidianpen · 3 days ago

Note

After reading No Glory and Hauntingly, it's hard to enjoy hetero romance, and it's not just because your way of writing is elite; there could be so many reasons that I went hardcore m/m and f/f shipper. Like, I am dead serious when I say my favorite telenovela pairing is Luisa x Rose from Jane the Virgin. So, I am really, really excited for your original work, and even more stoked that you decided it to be an m/m pair. But yeah, would love to know why you decided that?

you know, it was an interesting thought process that involved a lot of self reflecting. There’s definitely controversy around women writing gay male romance. Most of it is, I think, bullshit, and the arguments such as ‘its fetishizing’ are way off base (no, that would be male directors and producers creating plotless w/w porn, imo). But it was a Big Question: why should I, J…Jamie (lmao I’m almost more OP than myself anymore when I’m online) write a story with a bi male lead, when I’m a female (I love writing bis okay we need more of us!!) ? The reason I like writing Harry/Tom has everything to do with their dynamic and roles in the canon, and nothing to do with the gender. Id ship them regardless. In fact I probably would have realized I shipped them sooner if it was f/m; I was just too young at the time to realize that’s what I was rooting for because I was a bit sheltered in that regard.

anyway - so yeah, why am I still interested in m/m outside of fanfiction? I asked myself, staring at the mirror. So I wrote a little bit out of this original idea, one version as a female lead and once as a male, and you know, it was a pretty interesting exercise. When I was writing a male protagonist, I was… calm? Idk, I didn’t overthink him. I knew who he was and I just wrote what he did and what he thought. But when I was writing a the female version, my anxiety was so much higher! I found myself agonizing over every bit of her personality, worrying if people would find her ‘too this’ or ‘too that’, too predictable, too pretty, not pretty enough, too tough, too weak, etc etc. I felt like no matter who I made her, people would be upset and fucking hate her. And then I realized, oh. This is probably why so many women authors like writing male leads. Because that agonizing feeling, that’s how it is to be a woman, all the time. And it’s so relieving to get to leave that behind when writing a male lead. Maybe this is all deeply problematic on my part, I’m not sure. Internalized misogyny? I don’t think so, just the bleak reality. But yes I likely have issues lmaaao

Another reason was simply that the last original work I wrote has a female lead, so I thought I’d switch it up again. Writing an m/m story is what got me into writing in the first place, so it feels weirdly like have to acknowledge that in new projects I take seriously, too?

and to acknowledge that story I already wrote with the female lead - Starlings - I agonized quite a bit less over her, and in hindsight, I think it’s because she’s a child. She goes through puberty during the story, surrounded by older women, and there are almost no men in the whole thing, so the dynamic is totally different. It’s not big on the romance, either, which also helps. So yeah. No anxiety there. But with a grown ass woman in a story that’s centered quite a bit around a super problematic romance? Anxiety. Anxiety for days. I also feel this anxiety when I write Hermione, btw.

there will definitely be a different kind of worrying writing this new original thing, though - writing a gay magical romance set in southern 1920s America is gonna require a TON of research, and I’m not taking that lightly. But that worrying isn’t nearly as personal, which makes a lot of difference.

I’m interesting in other people’s opinions on this! So please share if you’re willing. 🌸

#Rant

24 notes · View notes

foreverisntenough · 4 hours ago

Text

‘Movie Night’

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

Index:

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

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

Disclaimer: Still the same.

Chapter 26- 'After Lunch' | ‘Movie Night'

word count - 11.8 k

The restaurant was effortlessly chic, its sleek, modern decor exuding an understated elegance. You walked in, scanning the room for Layla, feeling slightly nervous but eager for a proper catch-up. She spotted you first, standing up from a corner table bathed in soft, golden light. Her warm smile greeted you instantly, though there was something slightly off about her expression—a hint of tension lurking beneath her usual sparkle.

“Hi, babe! You alright?” she cooed, pulling you into a tight hug, her perfume familiar and comforting.

“Yeah, yeah, course. This place is gorge!” you gushed, pulling back to take in the restaurant’s atmosphere. The subtle hum of conversation, the clink of glasses, and the faint scent of fresh herbs and pastas cooking filled the air. “You always know the best places before anyone else,” you added, sitting down and smoothing your cream denim shorts and adjusting your top as you took your seat. Layla sat opposite you, resting her elbows gently on the table for a moment before she reached for your hand.

“I do my best,” she said with a faint smile, squeezing your fingers, but you noticed her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. You tilted your head at her, sensing something off.

“Lay… is everything okay?” you asked hesitantly. Before she could answer, a waiter appeared at the table, placing a sleek silver wine cooler and a bottle of Dom Pérignon on the table. Your brow furrowed in confusion as Layla quickly thanked him, barely looking up. “Champagne? Lay, what's the matter?” you asked with a soft laugh, trying to lighten the mood. But when you glanced back at her, she was looking at you with a somber expression, her hand still holding yours.

“Y/N…” she began softly, her voice just barely above the hum of the restaurant. She took a deep breath, her hesitation making your stomach twist.

“Layla… you’re making me nervous,” you told her earnestly, your tone now more serious, your heart sinking at the way she seemed to struggle for words. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out at first. Then, shaking her head slightly as if to steel herself, she tried again.

“I… I know more than just good restaurants before everyone else,” she murmured cryptically, her fingers tightening around yours. You blinked, confused.

“Yeah, I know that…” You awkwardly responded. Layla looked down briefly, and when her eyes met yours again, they were glistening.

“I mean… there’s something I need to tell you,” she admitted, her voice trembling slightly. Your stomach dropped, the playful air of your earlier greeting dissolving completely.

“How bad is it that you ordered champagne?” You asked cautiously, trying to prepare yourself. You tried to smile sympathetically at her but you could feel the nerves radiating off her. It was something serious. Her breath hitched, and she looked away momentarily before returning her gaze to you.

“It’s bad,” she admitted, her voice breaking slightly.

“Please, just tell me.”You pressed, leaning closer across the table. She nodded, as if trying to gather courage, and glanced at the champagne again.

“I ordered this because… I thought it might help soften the blow. But I don’t think anything could,” she whispered. Your heart raced, your throat tightening.

“Blow? What blow? What are you on about?” You pressed her. Layla took another deep breath, finally meeting your eyes with a pained look.

“I found out how Josh got the video of you and T…” She said softly, and just like that, your stomach twisted into a knot. You felt sick immediately as the words left her lips. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I only found out recently when I dug through Devon’s phone and I’ve been trying to find a way to tell you without hurting you.” She babbled fast and panicked. “I’m so sorry.” She whispered, watching your lash line fill with tears.

“Was it…” You paused, unable to swallow down the lump in your throat. You couldn’t even get his name out, terrified that maybe this was somehow an elaborate ruse Trent had used.

“No! No, no, of course not! No, he would never, babe. He loves you so much.” She sighed hating to even have this conversation. She picked up her champagne glass and downed it. Layla took a deep breath, glancing at the glass in your hand before returning her eyes to you. She squeezed your hand gently, her fingers trembling slightly. “Do you want to know or… what would make you feel best?” She sheepishly and sweetly asked you.

“Who was it?” Your eyes narrowed, beginning to feel like it had to be something unexpected given Layla’s hesitancy. She pushed your champagne glass towards you to drink, before she poured herself another glass. You guzzled it down in two gulps hoping a film of alcohol in your system might be able to protect you.

“It was Jess,” she finally whispered. You froze, the name hitting you like a slap. Your stomach churned, and you could feel the bile rising in your throat.

“Jess?” you repeated in disbelief, the word barely audible as it escaped your lips.

“She… she sent it to him,” Layla confirmed, her voice filled with shame as though she was the one at fault. “She sent it to Josh because—God, it’s so fucking petty—because she was jealous. She has some ridiculous crush on T and thought… I don’t even know what she thought. It's incomprehensible to me. That she’d somehow hurt you enough to ruin things between you two? She’s sick.” You blinked rapidly, your vision blurring with tears that threatened to spill over.

“She… I don’t understand. How?” your voice cracked as you tried to process the betrayal. Layla nodded, her lips quivering as she watched your reaction.

“I don’t know, babe, I know. It’s unforgivable. She wanted to hurt you and him. I’m assuming she thought if she got that video to Josh, he’d release it and ruin Trent’s career, ruin everything for you two. It’s sick, and I hate that I even have to tell you this.” The tears came now, streaming down your face as you shook your head, trying to make sense of it.

“I thought she liked me,” you whimpered, your voice barely above a whisper. “She’s Meg’s best friend… Like why? She—” You choked on the words, the betrayal cutting deep. Layla leaned across the table, gripping your hands tighter.

“I know, babe. I know. She’s disgusting for this. I should’ve told you sooner, but I didn’t know how. I didn’t want to hurt you more, but you needed to know.” Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, your mind racing with memories of Jess—her fake smiles, the way she inserted herself into your life.

“Who else knows?” You whimpered.

“Just Noah and I.” She whispered, reaching across the table to hold your hand again. You opened your mouth to ask a question but Layla was faster than you. She knew what was on the tip of your tongue. “T, doesn’t know. I just… I couldn’t keep it from you though.” She explained and you nodded as tears rolling down your cheeks. You let your eyes flutter closed so hurt by knowing Jess sent that video. Layla sighed, reaching out and cupping your cheek and wiping your tears with her other hand. “I’m so sorry, babe. I hit her for you.” Your eyes snapped open and looked at her disapprovingly. “Noah stopped me.” She smiled.

“So, T doesn’t know,” you whispered, your voice trembling. Layla shook her head.

“No, I didn’t tell him. I figured you should know first and give you the space to decide if you wanted it to come from you, if you wanted him to know. But honestly, Y/N, I think he deserves to know. He loves you, and this involves him too.” You nodded weakly, wiping at your wet cheeks with shaky hands.

“I’m genuinely in shock. Like what did I do? I can’t believe she’d do this to me, to him… to us.” You babbled. Layla poured more champagne into your glass, her own hands unsteady.

“Babe, fuck her. You’ve done nothing wrong. You’re stronger than her. You and Trent are stronger than her. She wanted to tear you apart, but she’s not going to win. You have each other.” You sniffled, clutching the stem of the glass for dear life.

“I don’t even know how to face her, Lay. Or Josh. I feel so… violated.” You looked at Layla completely lost.

“And you have every right to,” Layla said fiercely, her eyes blazing with protective anger. “But you’re not alone. You’ve got me, Jack, Noah, and most importantly, you’ve got Trent. We’ll handle this together, alright?” You nodded again, a fresh wave of tears brimming in your eyes, but this time, there was a sliver of determination behind them. Jess and Josh might have tried to ruin you, but they wouldn’t succeed. Not if you had anything to say about it. Even so, you and Layla spent the better half of the next two hours attempting to drown the problem out with more champagne.

The remnants of your extravagant lunch sat scattered across the table, the third bottle of Dom Perignon now empty gleaming under the restaurant lights like a trophy of indulgence. Plates were left half-eaten, the food now cold and entirely insufficient for the amount of champagne you and Layla had consumed. You were both slumped in the booth, leaning against each other. You’d moved to sit in her embrace, laughing one second and wiping away tears the next.

“Okay,” Layla slurred, propping her elbow on the table for support as she reached for the bill. Her credit card slipped from her fingers and clattered to the table before she picked it up again, giggling. “Maybe we took lunch a little too far.” She giggled

“A little,” you echoed drunkenly, a hiccup following your words as you giggled, clinging to her arm for stability. Your cheeks were flushed, tear-stained yet glowing from the alcohol. Layla looked at the total on the bill and winced dramatically, pulling a face.

“Alright, who let us do this?” she teased, trying to lighten the mood as she signed the receipt.

“Definitely not me,” you mumbled, resting your head on her shoulder. Layla grinned but then sighed, pulling you closer into her side. “Want to split?” You asked her. She shook her head, rejecting your offer.

“Okay, also, unfortunately, I do think we need to call someone to pick us up though. Neither of us is walking out of here straight, let alone driving.” She cooed gently, signing her name on the receipt before tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear. You lifted your head, blinking at her blurrily, the weight of reality suddenly crashing into you again. You looked at her terrified, like you were little girls being caught drinking, not grown women coping with the aftermath of a crazy person like Jess. “It’s fine. Want to call Jack?” She asked you.

“No! Lay, we can’t call Jack,” you whispered frantically, clutching her arm. “He’ll kill me if he finds out. We’re drunk in the middle of the day, and if he hears about Jess now… he’lll be fuming.” Your words trailed off as your voice cracked, and Layla gave you a knowing, sympathetic look.

“T?” She offered another option softly, her tone gentle but encouraging. You began to cry again, tears blurring your vision of your empty champagne glass. The mere mention of his name sent a fresh wave of emotion through you. Tears welled in your eyes before spilling over, blurring the restaurant and Layla’s concerned face.

“I can’t see him either.” You whimpered, your voice breaking as you crumbled into Layla’s chest.

“Babe…” she sighed, wrapping her arms around you tightly. She rested her chin on the top of your head, her fingers stroking your back in soothing circles. You hiccupped against her, sobbing quietly as she continued to console you. “You’re safe,” Layla murmured softly. “We’ll figure this out, okay? You don’t have to do it alone.” You sniffled, lifting your tear-streaked face to look at her.

“I just… I don’t know how to face him after all of this. What if he hates me or realizes that I’m not what he wants? What if he can’t deal with it or doesn’t want to?” You muttered. Layla tilted your chin up to meet her eyes, her own voice steady despite the alcohol.

“He’s not Josh, babe. He loves you. He’ll want to help you, not run from you. He wants to be in a relationship with you.” She smiled. You nodded weakly, wiping your face with the back of your hand, but the anxiety in your chest didn’t ease. Layla reached for her phone and began scrolling through her contacts. “Okay, hmm, if we’re not calling Jack or T, I’ll figure something else out. Give me a second. Just breathe, okay?” The room felt too warm, the champagne buzz clouding your thoughts as Layla’s calming presence became the only tether keeping you grounded. Layla tapped her phone screen nervously, the champagne buzzing through her veins making her movements a little sloppy. She pressed Noah’s name and held the phone up to her ear, chewing on her bottom lip as it rang. You sat beside her in the booth, your head resting on her shoulder, drained and teary-eyed.

“Lay? What’s up?” Noah’s voice came through the phone, casual but curious.

“Hii, can you come pick me and Y/N up?” Layla slurred sweetly, trying to sound as charming as possible, though her drunkenness made it obvious.

“Ah, fuck, Lay, I’m in Manny right now,” Noah said, his tone immediately shifting to concern. “You alright though? What’s going on?” He asked her.

“That’s perfect, Noah! We’re only in Salford. Pleaseee!” she whined, clutching the phone tightly, her voice carrying a playful desperation. Your brow furrowed as you sniffled back a tear hearing her choice of person to call. Noah’s concern didn’t fade, but his teasing side slipped through.

“What’s going on? Don’t you two have any other lads you could call? Pretty sure there are at least two guys who’d love to pick you up right now.” He joked. Layla rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled up.

“Noah, pleaaaase,” she dragged out the word dramatically. “I need you. Just do this one little favor for me.” You tilted your head to look at her, your face still damp from earlier tears, but her plea made you smile faintly. There was a pause on the line, and then Noah sighed.

“Yeah, yeah, alright, drunk girl. Send me the addy. If it’s more than 30 minutes from me, though, I’ll just call you two an Uber.” He softly agreed, easily picking up that Layla’s voice was laced with alcohol.

“Ahh, thank youuu, Noah! You’re the best!” Layla squealed, her smile bright as she looked over at you. But before she could hang up, Noah’s voice cut through again, soft and surprisingly serious.

“Hey, Lay.” He spoke. She hummed in response, still grinning. “Just sit tight, yeah? Don’t do anything dumb till I get there,” he said, his tone so gentle it caught her off guard. Layla’s smile softened, and she blinked down at the phone as her voice dropped to match his.

“Okay, Noah. Thank you.” She ended the call with a shaky laugh, her cheeks flushed and her head resting against yours. Layla set her phone on the table, letting out a long exhale as she leaned back against the booth. “He’s coming,” she murmured, her words directed more to herself than to you. You nodded slowly against her, clutching her arm like it was the only thing holding you together.

“I can’t believe we’re calling Noah,” you murmured, your voice wavering between exhaustion and humor.

“It was a good idea.” Layla cooed with a crooked smile. “He’s reliable, funny, and he keeps his mouth shut.” She winked, trying to lighten the mood. “But… yeah, he’s gonna tease us to death for this.” You let out a weak giggle, the sound breaking through the heaviness that still sat on your chest. “Just wait. He’s never going to let this go.” You whined. Layla let out a soft laugh, brushing her fingers through your hair soothingly before reaching to grab her champagne glass. She shrugged, draining the last of her drink in one gulp.

“It’s fine. We deserve a little teasing after this ridiculous day, don’t we?” You managed a small smile, though the ache in your chest hadn’t gone away.

“Yeah… but do you think he’ll tell Jack?” You asked her meekly. Layla shook her head immediately, her hair brushing against your shoulder. “Noah’s an joke sometimes, but he’s loyal just trying to help us out. He won’t tell Jack unless you want him to. I promise.” You exhaled shakily, leaning your head on her shoulder.

“Okay… okay, good.” The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes, both of you staring out the window at the street outside. The restaurant’s buzz of chatter and clinking glasses felt like background noise, a world apart from the weight of your shared secret. Layla finally broke the silence with a sigh.

“He’ll be here soon. And then we’ll figure it out. You’re not doing this alone, babe.” You nodded again, squeezing her hand as if to thank her without words. The weight of the day pressed down on you, but for the first time, you felt a flicker of relief knowing that someone else was shouldering it with you.

When Noah’s sleek silver G-Wagon rolled up to the curb, you and Layla were perched on a bench outside now, your heads leaning against each other, both of you a mix of emotional exhaustion and drunkenness. The sun was bright, and you squinted to make out the driver, unsure if it was Noah or just someone with an equally flashy car. But the way Layla’s face lit up—a sloppy, beaming grin—told you immediately.

“You like him,” you whispered in a sing-song tone in her ear, giving her waist a playful pinch as you both staggered to your feet.

“He’s giving us a ride!” she protested, her words dragging slightly as she giggled.

“Sure, just a ride,” you teased back, stumbling alongside her toward the car. When you reached the passenger door, you tugged on the handle, but it didn’t budge. It was locked. You groaned, tugging again just as you heard the click of Noah unlocking it. You pulled again too soon, causing it to lock once more.

“Clearly a ride we need,” Layla teased, moving past you with a drunken giggle to open the door herself.

“Jesus Christ,” Noah muttered with a chuckle, leaning over to watch from the driver’s seat with a smirk. “You two forget how doors work when you’re drunk?” He teased.

“Apparently,” Layla laughed, helping you climb into the backseat before she hopped into the front with another burst of giggles. “Honestly, Noah,” Layla slurred, looking at him through half-lidded eyes, “you’re so lucky we called you. Could’ve been anyone.” She joked.

“Yeah, I feel so lucky,” he deadpanned, glancing over at her with a shake of his head. Layla struggled to pull the seat belt across her in an equally pathetic attempt as you trying to open the door moments ago. Noah reached across her with a smug smile pulling the seatbelt across her with ease. She muttered a thank you as her stomach filled with butterflies, she tried to push down. “So, do you have a destination in mind… or?” Noah asked with a laugh, glancing over at Layla as she settled in.

“Erm…” Layla hesitated, turning in her seat to look back at you. You were slumped in the back, forehead already pressed against the cold window, likely to leave behind a faint imprint of your tinted moisturizer. You knew Noah would complain about it for weeks, even though it would take two seconds to wipe away. She reached out to tap your knee gently. “Babe… Do you… Do you want to go to T’s?” Layla asked you gently. The moment her words registered, you turned to her, and tears immediately began to form in your eyes. Layla frowned, her heart breaking for you, and placed her hand on your knee. “It might be good for you,” she encouraged. “We can stay with you. It’s okay.” She smiled and Noah turned to her with a look of confusion. Noah cocked his head slightly, raising an eyebrow as he took in the exchange.

“I’m bringing you two fucked up to Trenty’s? Are you mad?” He muttered in a low voice just to Layla. She tilted her head, silently begging him to understand.

“Please, it’d be good for her.” she whispered, just loud enough for him to hear. Noah glanced back at you again, finally noticing your tear-stained cheeks and watery eyes. He sighed, his expression softening as he shifted gears—literally and emotionally.

“Yeah, c’mon, Y/N. Let’s go to Trenty’s. Will be good.” He said, his tone suddenly gentle. He shot you a reassuring wink with a small smile, trying to reassure you before turning around to put the car in drive. Layla looked at Noah, her eyes filled with quiet admiration, appreciating how quick he was to help. She couldn’t help but feel a flutter of warmth at how quickly he adjusted, how instinctively he stepped up when you needed help. Stars practically danced in her gaze as she whispered a soft, ‘thank you.’ Noah didn’t reply, but the corner of his mouth twitched into a subtle smirk as he pulled away from the curb, focusing on getting the two of you where you needed to be. “Best place to nurse a hangover, I won’t lie. Got all that athlete shit, comfy couches—it’ll be alright. Bet he’ll even give you a cuddle. I’ve heard he’s got a thing for ya.” Noah teased you with a chuckle, momentarily lightening the mood. Layla swatted at his thigh with a playful glare, but before she could reach him, he caught her hand mid-air, wrapping his larger fingers around hers. He shot her a cheeky side-eye as he turned onto the main road.

“Should I text him?” Layla whispered to Noah as you sat silently in the back, staring out of the window. The cityscape blurred into streaks of light and shadows, but none of it registered. Your thoughts were tangled in the aftermath of Layla’s revelation and the haze of Dom still coursing through your system. Noah nodded.

“Grab my phone for me,” he instructed softly, his focus on the road. Layla froze for a second, realizing that he trusted her completely. No password demands or side-eye glances—he handed her access without a second thought. Layla realized then that she didn’t have to snoop with Noah, he willingly just let her into his phone. No qualms. Layla swiped up on his phone and opened his messages. She quickly typed something to Trent:

‘Bringing Y/N and Lays to yourrs. They’re drunk, I’m not. I’n driving. ‘Actually, I’m not. Tjhis is Layla. Noah’s driving. Y/N is… not great. Seee you in like 15, I think. K. ILY <3’

She hesitated for a moment, then hit send. The message was chaotic, riddled with typos and unnecessary details, but it perfectly captured the messy reality of the situation.

“Can I play a song?” Layla smirked, holding up Noah’s phone.

“Yeah, but play something good,” Noah replied, giving her a quick glance. Layla rolled her eyes dramatically.

“Good is subjective. You’ll like, I promise. Let me work.” She giggled.

“Y/N,” Noah called out to you sweetly, his tone softening. “What have you been listening to lately?” He asked you, trying to keep you in the present moment. You barely moved, shrugging with a blank stare, your sad eyes fixed on the streaks of streetlights outside. “Alright,” he sighed. “You good back there? Because I’ll charge you like an uber if you get sick in my car, yeah?” He shot you a look through the rearview mirror with a smirk that sent an immediate feeling of normalcy through your chest. It wasn’t much, but his lighthearted tone melted some of the weight in the air. You blinked, your lips twitching slightly, almost forming a smile. Noah nodded, satisfied that he’d pulled you back—if only for a moment.

“Yo bro!” Noah’s voice rang through the side door as he entered, the familiar boisterous tone of his greeting filling the space. Layla winced, clearly caught off guard by his volume, and gave him a playful, exasperated look. Noah simply shrugged with a teasing eye roll, unfazed. You were leaning into her, both of you stumbling a little as you made your way into the living room. Trent was already up, ready the second he heard the door, standing by the couch, his eyes locking onto you as you entered.

“Yo,” Trent nodded at Noah. He caught Noah’s greeting with a quick dap, but his focus immediately shifted back to you. The energy was entirely different as he turned to face you. He noticed upon entry the broken look on your face. “Alright, pretty girl? What’s going on with you?” His voice softened, more tender as he stepped toward you, and without hesitation, he pulled you gently from Layla’s arm and into his embrace. Your arms instinctively wrapped around his waist, and Trent kissed your hair repeatedly, a calming gesture, but there was something heavier in his touch. “I didn’t know I’d get to see my baby today,” Trent hummed softly, his lips brushing the top of your head, his hands cradling your back. You felt the guilt settle in your chest, the weight of everything weighing heavily on your heart. His affection, the warmth of his touch, only made you feel worse.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered into his chest, barely able to form the words. Trent’s body stiffened for just a second, his fingers running through your hair, as if he understood that something wasn’t right.

“Nah, baby, c’mon,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “You’re okay. Come be with me, please.” He stepped back slightly, but only enough to hold your hand, his thumb brushing over your skin gently, a silent promise that he was there, that you weren’t alone in this. He pulled you with him. Trent turned his head toward Layla as you settled into the safety of his arms, holding you close. He hadn’t really had the chance to check on her yet. She’d been the one to help get you here, and Trent was more than aware of how much she was trying to keep everything together. His gaze softened as he caught her eye. “You alright, Lays?” Trent asked gently, his voice warm with concern. His protective nature toward you had extended to Layla as well. She had been a constant source of strength for you, and he wanted to make sure she wasn’t getting overlooked in the chaos. Layla’s smile was small but appreciative, though tinged with a touch of sadness. She nodded, but there was a hesitance in her demeanor.

“Yeah, I’m good,” she replied, but it wasn’t the usual confident response she might’ve given. Trent could see that. Layla had always been the strong one, but now, with the weight of everything happening around her, she seemed a little shaken.

“You sure?” Trent pressed, his hand now resting on your waist, his thumb brushing small circles on your skin, making sure you were comfortable. His eyes never left Layla’s, trying to read her, sensing there was more she wasn’t saying. Layla, however, just let out a small sigh with a sheepish nod, trying to cover it with a quick smile following you and Trent with Noah into the living room. “C’mon. Not gonna make me sit alone are you?” Trent smirked at you pulling you down to sit on the sofa with him. You nodded with a sniffle. He leaned back into the cushion and dragged your body to drape over his. “So what’s going on?” He picked his gaze up momentarily from you to look between Noah and Layla.

“We just got a little lunch.” Layla explained looking at you, your face now buried in the nape of Trent’s neck. “And maybe got a little too much champagne.” She smirked with a giggle.

“A little? Your car is still in Salford.” Noah laughed teasing Layla with a big grin. He shook his head with a smirk as he flopped onto the sofa next to her. Layla rolled her eyes playfully, flicking her leg out to nudge Noah’s thigh, in retaliation to his teasing.

“Ah I see.” Trent smirked. “You eat anything good, baby?” Trent asked you more softly, leaning down to kiss your temple, brushing your hair behind your ear. You just shook your head ‘no,’ not having enough will to say anything. Just wanting to stay into his arms, keep your face hidden in the nape of his neck. “So No, you taking up a new career? Uber would be sound on your CV, mate.” Trent teased him.

“Ha, hilarious, bro. But no, I didn’t get the look for the actual food part. I just got a whiney call from a girl who had more Dom than lunch.” Noah joked. Trent chuckled softly at Noah’s remark, starting to better understand the afternoon, shaking his head with a grin.

“Gotcha,” he smirked, looking between Noah and Layla, mildly amused at the situation. He gave you another soft kiss on your temple, his fingers gently brushing through your hair, trying to offer you some comfort. “So didn’t get to eat much, baby, huh?” he asked again, this time his voice softer, filled with care. You shook your head in response, your face still buried in the crook of his neck. You could feel the warmth of his body against you, the soothing presence of him grounding you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to speak much.

“No food, but at least she got champagne,” Noah teased. Layla shot him a playful glare. Trent’s attention dropped back to you again, his focus shifting to make sure you were okay.’

“Baby, how about I get you a little food now?” He asked you softly. You shook your head again. “Lay, anything?” Trent turned his head.

“I’m good.” Layla smiled, appreciating the ask but she was still locked in on you.

“Alright. Will just chill for a bit, yeah?” He hummed. “C’mere, baby.” He whispered. His voice was soothing, more earnest now, as he looked down at you, brushing a strand of your hair from your face. He held you closer and it made your heart ache. You felt yourself melt into his embrace, and for a moment, the outside world seemed distant. In that safe space with Trent, the chaos of the day faded, even if only for a little while.

The room was suffocating in silence, the TV playing mindlessly in the background as you all sat there, the air thick with tension. Everyone could feel it. Maybe Noah less, but he was nervous about where the rest of the evening would go. Layla hurt for you but was equally anxious about Trent finding out. Trent was suspicious about what drove this impromptu boozy lunch, and the decision to get you to him. He could tell something was off. You were just in your own head, and it was filled with catastrophic thoughts. Every breath felt too loud, every shift in position too obvious. Trent laid underneath you, he held you gently but securely but his gaze was flicking around. Pinging from Noah to the TV, then to Layla, down to you, trying to deduce what was going on. Finally he caught Layla’s gaze. His eyes narrowed, silently asking her what had happened—what was so important, so painful, that it made you and Layla drink the way you did. She sighed realizing that maybe it was time to explain what everyone in the room but Trent. His concern deepened as Layla nervously shifted closer to you, her hand gently resting on your arm. The soft touch of her hand was meant to comfort you, but it only made you feel more exposed. You felt your throat tighten, another fresh wave of tears building up inside you. You couldn’t even process the last few hours. Everything felt like it was closing in, but you weren’t ready to tell Trent yet. Layla hesitated before speaking, her voice quiet and unsure.

“Babe, can I tell T?” Her words were barely audible, but you knew what she meant. You shook your head ‘no,’ the emotion rising in your chest, and let out a small, shaky breath. Layla didn’t want to tell him. She was terrified of how Trent would react, how it might hurt him and in turn you. But she had to. You all knew that.

“No,” you whispered, pulling yourself a tighter to Trent, trying to hide, not just from telling him about Jess, but from the reality of everything else that had happened. You couldn’t bear to look at him. Your heart ached at the thought of him knowing the truth. Trent felt your hesitation, and he gently cupped your face, his thumb tracing over your cheek, wiping away a few stray tears.

“Pretty girl, can Layla tell me, please?” His voice was soft, almost pleading, his eyes full of concern. He was losing his patience but doing his best to keep calm, for you. “I’m worried, baby.” You looked up at him, your vision blurred with tears. You felt like a little girl again, unsure of how to protect yourself, unsure of how to protect him from the storm that was about to hit. You finally gave in and nodded, before wrapping your arms around his neck, burying your face again in his warmth. You wanted to shield him from the pain, but you knew you couldn’t. Not anymore. Layla, seeing your response, took a deep breath and gathered her courage. She shifted closer, her hand still on your arm. She couldn’t stop the tears now. Her eyes were glassy, blurred with her own heartbreak. She looked at Trent, her voice trembling.

“I’m sorry, T,” she whispered, voice barely audible as she began the words she knew would insight more chaos into your lives. Trent’s body stiffened. He knew this wasn’t good by her tone alone. He wanted to shout, wanted to break down, but instead, he kept his composure, his chest tight, waiting patiently for her to explain. He glanced down at you, your face buried against his neck, trembling in his arms. His heart was breaking for you. Noah’s eyes scanned the room, taking in the heavy atmosphere. He could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on all of you, but it was Layla’s nervous, sad energy that stood out the most. She was trying to hold it together for your sake, but Noah could see how badly she was struggling. His gaze softened, and he instinctively moved closer to her, offering a small, reassuring smile.

“Lay, I got it, yeah? Just relax for me. We’re all good. Gonna be fine.” Noah’s voice was calm, almost too calm, as if to balance out the anxious energy that was flooding the room. Layla gave him a small smile in return, a mixture of appreciation and sorrow in her eyes. She hadn’t wanted to carry this burden alone, and for that moment, she was glad he was there. But as Noah turned back to face Trent and you, he knew the next part of the conversation wouldn’t be great. Trent was still confused, his brow furrowed in concern as he noticed the shift. The quiet tension, the unspoken fear in Layla’s and your eyes, and the knowing look in Noah’s face—all of it was weighing on him.

“What’s going on? Lay, you alright?” Trent asked gently, his voice laced with concern, but Layla’s answer came from Noah instead. Noah let out a small breath, rubbing the back of his neck nervously before continuing. He knew this was going to be uncomfortable, but there was no way around it.

“Ah… yeah, so mate…” He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts as he glanced at the three of you, all visibly upset. “We found out how Josh got the video of you and Y/N…” He hesitated, his words more cautious now. “It’s a bit of a weird one to take so we’ve been walking on eggshells here. Just finally, things had started to calm, you guys were good…” Noah’s voice trailed off awkwardly. He didn’t want to speak for anyone else, but it felt like the right time to say it all. Layla’s hand slid down your arm, her touch gentle, reminding you that even with the storm brewing, things had started to feel better. It wasn’t all bad—there was still hope for healing, for you and Trent, and for all of you. The small gesture helped, even if it didn’t fix everything. Trent didn’t move, his body tense as he processed the words. His mind raced. He didn’t like the sound of this—Josh, the video, the hurt he knew it caused you. His jaw clenched as he tried to piece everything together, but the reality of what had happened was starting to sink in, and it made him angry, protective, and desperate all at once.

“Noah, tell me, bro…”Trent asked, his voice low and controlled, though it was clear he was barely holding it together. They could see the hurt in his eyes. Noah exchanged a look with Layla, who nodded, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. Layla gently squeezed your arm again, leaning in closer to you for support, as if grounding herself before things got harder to bear.

“I’m so sorry, bro,” Noah continued softly. “We’ve been keeping it from you for a bit, but it was Jess. She’s the one who sent it to him. Jess sent the video to Josh, that lad Devon has a screenshot from her talking to Josh, and she admitted to Layla and I.” Noah’s words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of their truth. The silence that followed was deafening, and Trent’s hands held you a bit tighter but he was mindful not to react angrily. He looked between Noah, Layla, and you, his eyes filled with hurt and disbelief. The betrayal hit Trent like a punch to the gut. He could feel the adrenaline rush through him as he thought about how someone could do this to you, someone you trusted. His chest tightened, his pulse pounding in his ears. But he couldn’t let himself lose control now. Not when you needed him to stay strong. Trent slowly exhaled, his eyes finally settling on your form draped across him.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he whispered into your hair with a kiss. He could see how fragile you were, how broken by this knowledge. His hands caressed your back, his touch gentle but firm. In a way Trent felt really responsible for this. He was glad you were away from Josh of couse but the only reason this was happening, the only reason Josh was hurting you was through him, through his prior relationship with Jess.

“Mate-” Trent’s jaw clenched, his anger bubbling beneath the surface as Noah tied to speak more but before Noah could finish, Layla’s voice cut through.

“And then I slapped her,” she added, glancing over at Trent, her face tight with emotion. Trent froze, his eyes flashing toward her, momentarily stunned. Trent’s brows raised surprised by the admission. He’d known Layla was textbook definition ride or die for you but hitting Jess wasn’t really on his bingo card either.

“Yeah alright well…” Noah smirked at Layla just momentarily, appreciating her ferocity and not wanting to diminish it but it wasn’t the point. “I know she deserved it but nevertheless, mate, I’m sorry. Don’t want to make anyone upset but obviously you two deserved to know. And you know, makes things sort of complicated, given...” Noah’s voice trailed off, not finishing the thought. Noah hesitated before continuing, but Trent wasn’t having it. The words were too much for him, and his emotions were too raw. You went stiff in his arms at the insinuation.

“No. It’s not fucking complicated. Not at all.” Trent snapped, his tone icy and sharp. You flinched in his arms, instinctively feeling the intensity of his anger and the change in the room. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but his grip on you tightened as if to ground both himself and you. A reminder that you were with him, safe in his house, here now. Trent’s tone had shifted dramatically. The pain of hearing the truth, of knowing how deep the betrayal cut, had made him snap. His hands trembled, barely contained anger simmering beneath the surface. But as his eyes met yours, everything changed. His expression softened, and he pulled you closer, guiding you to look directly into his eyes. With one hand still holding you, he shifted you slightly, moving you so that you were facing him fully. His hands cupped your face gently, his thumbs brushing the soft skin of your cheeks. His eyes bored into yours, searching for any sign that you were okay, that this wasn’t breaking you down. From the moment you made eye contact, something inside you broke free. The tears that had been building up spilled over once again. He held your face tenderly, his thumb gently wiping away the tears that streamed down your cheeks. He searched your eyes, silently pleading with you to understand that nothing—nothing—was more important than the two of you in that moment. The room seemed to shrink, the noise from the others fading into the background as Trent’s words cut through.

“We’re okay, baby, yeah?” His voice was low and sincere, a soft murmur just for you. He leaned in closer, his forehead almost touching yours. He wasn’t asking for confirmation—he was affirming it. You could see the vulnerability in his eyes, the raw emotion he was trying so hard to keep in check. “Me and you, right?” He asked, his words carrying more weight than he probably realized. He looked at you with for eyes that shattered your heart. You pouted. You swallowed the lump in your throat, the overwhelming emotions from earlier still lingering. You felt safe in his arms, even amidst the chaos and betrayal that had unfolded. You nodded, a small but reassuring smile pulling at the corners of your lips. “I’m not letting anyone treat you this way, pretty girl,” he continued, his voice rough but firm, full of determination. “No one is going to get in the way of me loving you.” There was a pause as he inspected your face, as though reading you for any sign of doubt, any crack in your resolve. His expression softened, his pink lips curling into a sad smile letting a faint indent of his dimples peek through the corners of his grin. “That okay?” You nodded again, this time feeling the relief flood through you. The tension in the room seemed to dissipate just a little, and you allowed yourself to feel a sense of calm, knowing that Trent had you no matter what. Your heart clenched at the sincerity in his gaze, at the way he held you like you were the most important thing in the world to him. You nodded, your lips trembling as you struggled to find your voice.

“Okay,” you whispered, feeling the weight of his love and commitment. Trent leaned in and kissed your forehead softly, his breath warm against your skin. He pulled back slightly, inspecting your face with a tenderness that made your chest tighten. You sniffled, the tears in your eyes were still there, but they weren’t as heavy now. You weren’t alone anymore. Trent was there, and he was fighting for you, for the two of you. You wrapped your arms around him, pressing yourself close to him, seeking comfort in his embrace. He held you tightly, not wanting to let go. The world outside seemed so distant, the only thing that mattered now was the bond between the two of you. The tension in the room shifted as you and Trent shared a quiet, intimate moment. The others remained silent, giving you both the space you needed. The love and security you felt in Trent’s arms reminded you that, despite everything, you were going to be okay. Together, you could face anything.

"I'm sorry," Layla whispered again, her voice cracking, wiping her eyes. Layla's own tears streaming down her face. She sniffled, shaking her head in frustration at herself, trying to mask the embarrassment with a weak laugh.

"Nah, don't be," Trent murmured to her, his voice soothing. "We're alright. Hmm, baby?" He turned his attention back to you, his nose brushing against yours, grounding you with his touch. You swallowed hard, trying to hold back the tidal wave of emotions that were threatening to crash down on you. Then the anxiety hit-unwanted, unsettling.

"What about Jess?" you asked, the question hanging in the air between you, heavy and full of fear. The memories of her betrayal lingered, clouding your thoughts. Layla scoffed from beside you, wiping away another tear.

"Fuck her," she muttered bitterly, the venom in her voice palpable. She sank back into the cushions, her frustration evident.

"She doesn't exist," Trent added firmly, his gaze unwavering as he looked directly at you. "Not to me, not to you." His words hit home with such certainty, such conviction, that a small weight lifted from your chest. You looked into his eyes, finding the reassurance you needed, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt safe.

"We'll sort it, Y/N," Noah chimed in, his tone light and sincere as he rose from his seat on the soda, walking over closer to where Layla sat now. He plopped down beside her, his arm draping over the back of the couch. “Fuck her though.” Noah whispered just in Layla’s ear. He wasn't quite touching her, but the closeness made her shiver slightly, and you noticed the small smile that spread across her face. "Just want you and Trentski happy. Don't worry about all that." He told you. You looked at Noah, the gratitude in your eyes as your lip quivered.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice a little shaky but full of appreciation.

"No worries, yeah?" Noah grinned and stuck out his fist toward you. With years of familiarity, you reached out and bumped it, a giggle slipping from your lips at the simplicity of the gesture.

"There she is, my pretty girl," Trent cooed, his arms tightening around you, pulling you into his chest, relieved to see even that millisecond of a weak smile Noah managed to pull from you. He rocked you gently back and forth with a hum, the soothing motion like a balm to your bruised heart. He pressed a kiss to your hair, his lips lingering there. You let out a soft sigh of relief, letting his warmth and affection wash over you. This moment, with him, it was everything you needed.

The living room was dim, the soft flicker of the TV lighting the room enough to see everyone settled in, now the silence welcomed. Trent’s arm was draped around you, his hand resting on your back as you slept soundly against him, your cheek pressed to his chest. He shifted slightly, his mind racing despite the calm in the room. Jess’s betrayal still gnawing at him, but the need to protect you had him restless.

“Psst…” Trent dramatically whispered, his voice low but playful as he poked Layla’s leg with his foot from the other end of the sofa. She stirred but waved him off, too comfortable to fully engage. Trent rolled his eyes dramatically, huffing as if her dismissal was the greatest inconvenience. “Lay…” he whispered again, leaning forward slightly.

“What, T?” she replied with a quiet giggle, finally turning to him with a grin.

“Can you stay with her for a sec? I just wanna pop to the kitchen,” he murmured, nodding down to you nestled against him. He didn’t want you waking up alone, even if it was just for a moment. Yes, you ultimately would be fine, he was only tucking off to the kitchen, but he didn’t want you to wake up alone feeling like he had left you. Layla nodded, sitting up and moving closer.

“MmHmm,” she hummed, watching as Trent carefully shifted you off of him.

“T,” you whined softly in your sleep, the unconscious pout on your lips making Trent pause. He ran his hand gently up and down your arm, his voice soft.

“Love you so much, pretty girl,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss your temple. His touch lingered for a moment, as if he couldn’t bear to step away. Layla smiled at the tenderness, sliding closer to you.

“I’m here, pretty girl,” she mocked Trent’s accent, playfully running her hands up your back and pulling you into her. Noah, sitting nearby, chuckled at Layla’s tease. Trent turned, his eyes flicking to Noah with a look that said it all. Without needing words, Noah nodded and stood up, following Trent toward the kitchen.

“Need anything, Lays?” Noah asked over his shoulder as he passed.

“No,” she replied, shaking her head, her eyes focused on you. Layla gently traced the freckles on your shoulder with her finger, watching the slow rise and fall of your chest. Even with all the chaos, she found herself comforted by your presence, ensuring you were at peace, even if just for now.

The kitchen was dimly lit, the muffled sounds of the TV filtering faintly through the house. Trent stormed in first, his shoulders tense, and his hands running roughly over his hair. Noah followed closely behind, his arms folded across his chest, watching Trent unravel in front of him.

“What’s up, bro?” Noah asked cautiously, leaning back against the counter.

“Fuck!” Trent yelled, his voice tight and furious, as he dragged his hand down his face. His frustration rippled through the air. Noah exhaled heavily, knowing this wasn’t going to be a short conversation. “I’m fucking fuming, mate,” Trent snapped, his pacing beginning to pick up.

“Yeah, I won’t lie, Trenty, I was surprised by your reaction earlier,” Noah admitted, watching him. He’d been expecting rage—Trent blowing up the moment he heard about Jess. But instead, Trent had been calm, gentle with you, whispering reassurances and holding you like you were his entire world. Still, the fury was there, simmering beneath the surface, and Noah could see it spilling over now. Trent stopped pacing, his hands braced on the kitchen island.

“I just… I’ve never been so fucking angry, mate. And it’s not at her. She’s just… bro, she’s so raw, like exposed. I don’t want to hurt her. She just didn’t need me to be angry then. I never want to be that way around her.” His voice cracked slightly, his frustration turning inward. Noah nodded, his expression softening. Noah was expecting an outburst not gentle soft Trent, just holding you, letting you fall asleep on him while he told you how much he loved you. But then at the same time, it made perfect sense why that was Trent’s reaction.

“Yeah, course. That’s good though, mate. Not to throw that at her right now. She doesn’t need to see that… Not today.” Noah’s lips pulled into a tight line. Trent let out a bitter laugh, his pacing starting up again.

“What the fuck!” He ran his hands over his hair again, tugging at the ends. “Noah… you know Jess and I…” He trailed off, looking helplessly at his friend, as though pleading for him to understand. Begging him to understand that Jess was never anything real to him,

“What, it was like 2-3 times?” Noah took his best guess about the number of times Trent had hooked up with Jess. But it was an approximate estimation, realistically, he had no idea so he shrugged, trying to downplay it but clearly uncomfortable even bringing it up.

“Maybe,” Trent muttered, shaking his head. He paused, his jaw clenching. “I know it makes me a bad person to say this, but I just needed sex, and I knew she’d bite. That’s all it ever was.” Noah made a face, one of disgust mixed with discomfort, his lips curling up in a grimace. Trent looked at him annoyed for his reaction.

“Mate, what!” Noah exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “It’s not great, I won’t lie to you!” Trent shot him another annoyed glare, his jaw tightening further. “But still,” Noah continued quickly, trying to ease the tension, “doesn’t merit the way she’s been moving. None of that justifies what she’s been doing, has done.” He exhaled deeply, empathizing with the whirlwind of emotions Trent must’ve been feeling. Trent’s hands curled into fists, his knuckles brushing against the counter as he leaned forward, his voice low and seething.

“I just can’t believe she’d stoop so fucking low. Y/N didn’t deserve any of this. She’s been through enough.” Trent muttered, utterly enraged.

“And that’s why you handled it the way you did, yeah?” Noah offered, his tone gentle. “You kept your cool for her, and that’s what matters. You’re there for her in the way she needs you right now. That’s what she needs, Trenty, you.” Trent nodded, his jaw still tense. “

“Yeah… but when I see Jess again…” He mumbled. Noah raised his eyebrows knowingly, interrupting before Trent could spiral further.

“You’ll deal with that later, mate. We’ll handle it. For now, focus on Y/N. She’s here. That’s what matters to you, not Jess.” Noah sighed. Trent exhaled, his shoulders dropping slightly as the tension in his body eased just a bit.

“You’re right.” Trent replied, taking another breath. The kitchen falling into a tense silence, save for the soft hum of the refrigerator and the faint murmur of the TV in the other room. Trent stood rigid, his fingers gripping the edge of the counter like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. “With Jess, though…There was never anything concrete, bro. I don’t understand,” he said, his voice heavy with frustration. His jaw clenched, and his dark eyes flickered with guilt. “I never took her on a date. I never bought her flowers or gifts. I genuinely don’t know the girl, and—yeah, I know—it makes me sound like a shitty person to say all that, but she knew what it was. And it was nothing.” Trent straightened up, pacing a few steps before turning back to face Noah. His voice cracked slightly as he continued, “Why would she want to hurt me like that? I just don’t get it.” He rambled on. Noah leaned against the counter, arms crossed, studying Trent’s expression. He nodded slowly, letting Trent’s words hang in the air for a moment before responding.

“Mate, it wasn’t to hurt you,” Noah said, his tone calm but direct. “She wanted to hurt Y/N. This wasn’t about you—it was about her being jealous. Yeah, you were what she was jealous of Y/N having but it was to get at Y/N. And honestly, bro…” Noah hesitated for a beat, exhaling deeply a little afraid to say what he wanted to next. It was a theory that had been churning in his brain for a bit. “A part of me feels like Jess must’ve known what was going on between Y/N and Josh. Why else would she send that video to him? It wouldn’t even hold any weight with Josh if Jess thought they were amicable. She had to know he’d be unhappy with it to a degree where he’d do something and hurt her.” Noah explained his idea. Trent’s fists tightened at his sides, his face contorted in frustration. Without warning, he brought his hand down hard on the counter with a loud slap, the sound echoing through the quiet room.

“God damnit!” he snapped, pacing again before stopping abruptly. “How do I even begin to tell Jack…?” Trent’s voice was quieter now, trembling with emotion. He bent over, resting his head against the cold marble countertop. “This is all my fault, bro.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “I put her in this situation.” Trent confessed what he was feeling. Noah’s brows furrowed as he shook his head firmly.

“No, bro.” His voice was almost sharp as he spoke. He stepped closer to Trent, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You’re nowhere near being at fault for any of this. This lies solely on Jess—and even more so on Josh.” Noah’s voice softened slightly, his expression full of sympathy. “The only thing you can do now is exactly what you’ve always done. Take care of her. Be there for her. That’s all she needs from you.” Noah explained. Trent lifted his head slowly, his face a mix of anger and anguish. He nodded weakly, the weight of it all pressing down on him, but Noah’s words gave him a small sense of direction.

“Yeah,” Trent murmured, his voice hoarse. “I’ve got her. Always.” Noah reached out, giving Trent a reassuring pat on the shoulder, a silent show of support. The room fell into a heavy silence again, both of them knowing that the fallout wasn’t over yet, but that Trent had already made his choice—to protect you, no matter what. Trent stood up and slumped back against the counter, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his emotions. His hands were trembling slightly, and he rubbed his face harshly, as if trying to ground himself. “I try so fucking hard, bro,” Trent whimpered, his voice cracking as he gently tapped his head against the cool marble countertop. The vulnerability in his tone made Noah’s chest tighten. “Mate, it’s like I tried for fucking years, to just give her space. I didn’t want her to like me like this, I mean of course I did, I was desperate but not if it meant hurting her this badly.” His voice wavered as he gestured helplessly, his thoughts spilling out faster than he could manage them. “I just almost wanted her to be with other people because I didn’t want to ruin things. I didn’t want to hurt her,” he admitted, his eyes red and brimming with unshed tears. “But I also always knew I was supposed to be with her, you know, bro? Like I was best fit. I knew it. From the start. And it hurt me to not be but at least I thought she was better off that way.” Noah leaned against the counter, arms crossed, nodding slowly. He’d known. Everyone who’d been close to Trent had known. He was silent though, ready to listen because he knew more was coming. It wasn’t often that Trent let the floodgates open, his feelings verbalized so Noah waited. “And when it finally happened,” Trent continued, his voice breaking completely now as he lifted his head to look at Noah, his heartbreak written across every inch of his face, “I finally got her, it felt like it was the right thing, that her and I…” He paused, exhaling shakily. “That we were supposed to happen. But now, I don’t know, bro.” Trent picked his head up and looked at Noah heartbroken. Noah knew Trent needed something or he’d stop.

“Mate,” Noah said gently, his voice steady despite the turmoil he felt watching Trent crumble. “You are supposed to be with her. It makes sense. You and her are good. It works. You’re so good together. And you’re so good for each other.” Noah sighed, hurting for Trent. Trent shook his head as if Noah’s words weren’t enough to ease the guilt clawing at his chest.

“I don’t know, Noah. when I got with her, it was so intense. And that was great for me,” he admitted, a faint, bitter laugh slipping through his lips. “But for her? I don’t know anymore.” He raked a hand through his curls, his frustration bubbling over. “She and Jack have this huge rift. And I find out she’s been getting abused for time. I don’t know, mate. Like is it my fault? Did I force her into being with someone like that because I acted like I didn’t like her? And the thing is… I didn’t ‘like’ her, we all knew I fucking loved her… I fucking loved her my whole life.” His voice cracked again, and he swiped at his eyes hastily, trying to keep himself together. “I love her so much now it fucking hurts, and I feel like all I do is make her cry. And now… now I’ve got girls like Jess sharing videos of Y/N in just the most vulnerable position.” He broke off, his throat tightening. “And it’s my fault again! I took that video,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper now, the tears dangerously close to tip over.

“Fuck,” Noah muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair as he watched his friend unravel. He wished there were some magical words he could offer, some quick fix to take Trent’s guilt away, but he knew better. Still, he stepped closer, his voice calm but firm. “Trenty, you’re a good lad,” Noah said, his tone filled with conviction. “None of this is your fault. It’s just life, bro. You can’t control what Jack’s reaction was gonna be, alright? And yeah, I’ve known since we were about fifteen that you were in love with her.” A faint smile flickered on Trent’s lips for a second before disappearing again. “But, you really think Jack would’ve taken it any better back then? He’s good now, bro. He’s adjusting. And as for that fucking piece of shit, Josh…” Noah paused, his expression hardening. “You didn’t push Y/N to him. He is like a cancer, you don’t go looking for it, you don’t ask for it—it just shows up. And when it does show up in the people we love, all we can do is show up for them.” Noah sadly looked at Trent praying he’d believe him. Trent’s jaw tightened as he listened, his hands gripping the counter behind him as if to keep himself steady. “All you can do is keep showing up for her,” Noah continued, his voice softening as he placed a hand on Trent’s shoulder. “And you do, mate. Every fucking time. Don’t lose sight of that.” Trent nodded weakly, swallowing hard. His head dropped forward, and for a moment, he just stayed like that, letting the weight of Noah’s words sink in.

“I don’t want to be the one that brings any more hurt into her life.” Trent murmured finally, his voice raw. “I just want her to be okay, bro.”

“And she will be,” Noah reassured him. “Because you’re there. Because you love her. And that’s all she needs.” The kitchen felt heavy, the weight of Trent’s emotions filling the air. He leaned back against the counter, arms crossed tightly over his chest, as if trying to hold himself together. His eyes darted away from Noah, shame flickering in them. Noah sighed, running a hand through his hair, glancing at Trent’s hunched figure. He wasn’t used to seeing his mate like this—so raw, so uncertain. He stepped forward, his voice soft but firm. “And Jess, mate… that’s not you. That’s her. That’s someone projecting their insecurities and attacking someone because the whole goddamn city has watched you pine over Y/N for years.” Trent’s head snapped up, his lips parting as if to protest, but he stayed silent, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. “That’s why it happened,” Noah continued, his gaze steady. “Because you’re right—you do love Y/N. You love her so much, it probably hurt when you looked Jess’s way and looked straight through her. Because she’d never be Y/N. No one could measure up to that for you.” The words hit Trent hard. He exhaled shakily, his hands gripping the edge of the counter behind him. Noah didn’t let up, his tone growing more resolute. “And it’s just the same way, I’m sure Josh loathes you because he knew… he knew he could never be what Y/N actually wanted. He’d never be you. And he took it out on her. But that’s not your fault, mate.” Noah’s voice faltered slightly, his own emotions creeping in, but he pushed on. “That’s someone not knowing how to be a man. That’s someone not knowing how to treat other women. Trenty,” he sighed, his hand reaching out to clap his mate on the shoulder. “Just be…” he paused, trying to find the right words. Noah sighed feeling a bit emotional actually having to say this to Trent’s face. “Just be her T. Y/N’s T. That’s all she wants, that’s all Jack wants, Layla, and me…” He smiled faintly, his tone lightening. “I’m partial to Trentski, but Y/N’s T? He’s not so bad. Don’t mind having him around either.” Trent’s hands came up to his face, rubbing roughly as if to wipe away the emotions threatening to spill. He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling heavily.

“Thank you, mate,” he murmured, his voice thick. He let his arms drop and stepped forward, pulling Noah into a brotherly hug.

“Love you, bro,” Noah said, patting Trent’s back firmly. “Probably even close to how much Y/N loves you.” Trent let out a breathy laugh as he pulled back, shaking his head.

“Love you, broski,” he chuckled, a faint smile finally breaking through. For only a moment, the tension in the room lifted, replaced by a quiet understanding between the two of them. They didn’t need to say anything else—just being there for each other was enough.

The kitchen lights flickered off behind them as Trent and Noah walked out, their conversation trailing softly into the hallway. Trent was visibly frustrated, his hand running through his curls repeatedly as he tried to process everything.

“I just can’t wrap my head around it, that Jess would send it,” Trent muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. “Like, she’s Meg’s best friend, you know?” His voice carried an edge of betrayal, his mind unable to reconcile the cruelty. Noah sighed deeply beside him, his brows furrowed.

“I don’t even know, bro. Why are they friends? Meg’s so cool, so calm… and yet you should’ve heard the way Jess spoke about Y/N. Lays should’ve slapped her. It was deserved.” His jaw clenched at the memory, and the anger from that night flickered in his eyes. Trent glanced at him, raising his brows slightly at the sudden fervor in Noah’s voice. He was a little shocked by that confessional. Not shocked that Noah cared so much about you, but more so hearing him continually mention Layla. “Even the way she spoke to Lays had me proper fuming,” Noah added, his voice quieter now, as if he was still stewing over it, recalling the altercation at Megan’s birthday party. Trent hummed in agreement, nodding, but his expression shifted slightly as he caught onto something. Noah had mentioned Layla one too many times as of late, and it didn’t go unnoticed. A smug smile crept onto Trent’s face, his eyes narrowing knowingly, but he decided to keep quiet—for now. There were way too many things going on to entertain that. Instead, he just silently and smugly smiled as they made their way back to you and her.

“Yeah, fuck her,” Trent finally said passively with a shake of his head, dismissing the thought of Jess. “Well, thanks for getting them today, mate.” He gave Noah’s shoulder a firm, appreciative squeeze. Noah shrugged casually, though the effort hadn’t been small.

“Yeah, all good. I told ya. Lays called me. Didn’t want to leave them drunk in Manny,” he said with a little laugh, but there was a weight of sincerity beneath his words. It wasn’t just a ride—it had mattered to him, even if he tried to brush it off. He acted like it was nothing, but it was something. Trent smirked faintly, his lips twitching upward. “I’m glad you were home though. I can’t handle any more secrets,” Noah admitted with a snicker, though the exhaustion in his voice was evident.

“Yeah, they seem to be piling up,” Trent agreed, his quiet laugh trailing off as they reached the dark living room. As they stepped into the room, both their voices softened as they took in the scene. You and Layla were both fast asleep on the sofas, the glow of the television flickering across your peaceful faces. Trent’s heart softened instantly at the sight of you curled up, a blanket wrapped around you as you snuggled into a pillow. Noah’s gaze lingered on Layla, her features relaxed, her body tucked into the corner of the sofa as if she were trying to make herself smaller.Trent’s eyes locked on your figure. He crossed the room silently, his steps careful not to wake you. You were barely awake, your body heavy with the kind of exhaustion that made every movement feel slow and dreamy. Trent slid onto the couch beside you, pulling you into him, his presence warm and familiar, his scent instantly wrapping around you like a blanket. He brushed a stray strand of hair from your face as his expression softened into something deeply affectionate. Noah stood there for a moment, watching his friend silently care for you before turning his gaze back to Layla. He smirked to himself, knowing he’d end up with some task taking care of her when the time came. But he didn’t really mind that and for now, he’d just let the quiet settle, content to just let the night end on a calmer note as he took a seat a safe distance next to Layla.

•

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

Next part - Chapter 27 xx

#trent alexander arnold #Trent Alexander Arnold x reader #alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold imagines #taa x reader #footballer x y/n #footballer x reader #fie fic #Movie Night Fic

24 notes · View notes

luckymilkshakerebel · 14 hours ago

Text

A Love Rekindled

Genre: fluff, clingy and a little bit angst

Content warning: too much fluff, a little bit smut, angst

Cast : seungmin x reader

---

It had been a full week since I last heard from him. A week of unanswered texts and calls that went straight to voicemail. Every time I dialed his number, it rang once or twice before he hung up. My heart sank with each call that ended without a word. I didn’t understand what was happening. We’d never gone this long without talking, without checking in with each other. I tried to convince myself that maybe he was just busy, but as the silence stretched on, doubts began to creep in. What had I done wrong? Was he pulling away?

Then, one morning, I woke up feeling horrible. My throat was sore, my body ached, and a headache made it impossible to concentrate. I didn’t have the energy to fight it, so I stayed in bed, trying to sleep it off. But as the 1 day passed, I knew I needed something. I decided to drag myself to the pharmacy to get some medicine, hoping it would make me feel better.

I was barely able to stand as I walked into the pharmacy, feeling miserable, but I had to get something to ease the symptoms. I shuffled over to the aisle for cold and flu meds, trying to focus despite my dizziness. I grabbed a box of medicine and stood there, staring blankly at the shelf, when I heard a voice.

“Are you okay?”

I turned around and froze. There, standing in front of me, was my boyfriend friend Han. He looked surprised to see me, and his face softened when he saw how pale and unwell I looked. His eyes searched mine, and I could tell he hadn’t expected to run into me here—especially not like this.

I didn’t have the energy to say much, so I just nodded weakly, not wanting to explain everything that had been building up over the past week. Han looked at the medicine in my hands and then back at me. His expression shifted from concern to something else, something I couldn’t quite place.

“Why are you here? You don’t look well,” he said, his voice suddenly sounding more serious.

I sighed, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on me. “I’m sick. I just... I wasn’t feeling good, and I needed something.”

Han brow furrowed. “You should’ve told seungmin. Did he know?”

You shake your head as a sign of no, Seungmin doesn't know

Before han could respond, you said " i need to go, bye" you pay for you medicine and start to go home as you feel worse.

As you push the door open, the weight of the day presses harder on your already aching body. The air inside your home feels still, a silence broken only by the faint hum of the refrigerator. You're burning up with fever, but hunger gnaws at your stomach. You shuffle toward the kitchen, each step heavier than the last.

You fumble through the cabinets, finding ingredients for something simple—a bowl of soup. The rhythm of chopping vegetables feels distant, like you're watching yourself from afar. The heat of the stove makes you sweat more, but you endure, determined to eat something, anything, to regain some strength.

When it's ready, you ladle the soup into a bowl and sit at the table. The aroma is comforting, but as soon as you bring the spoon to your lips, your stomach churns violently. You take a small sip, but it’s no use—your body rebels, forcing you to rush to the sink. You didn't eat yesterday and still can't eat

You lean over, heaving, as waves of nausea take over. The fever has robbed you of your appetite, leaving you weak and defeated. After cleaning up, you sink onto the couch, shivering despite the warmth surrounding you. The untouched bowl of soup sits on the counter, a reminder of how your body has betrayed you today. You drift to sleep

After a while, The door clicked open, and you barely stirred from the couch. Fever had made you sluggish, but the sound of someone entering your home snapped you out of your haze.

Your boyfriend, seungmin walked in, his face filled with concern, but something about it annoyed you. Seungmin used the password to let himself in—no knocking, no waiting for permission. His eyes darted to the kitchen counter where the half-eaten bowl of soup sat, then back to you slumped under the blanket.

“You didn’t finish your soup,” seungmin said, his voice gentle but edged with frustration. “You need to eat something, even just a little. You’ll feel worse if you don’t.”

You sighed, turning away from him, your back against the couch. “I’m not hungry,” you muttered, your tone flat. “And I don’t need you hovering.”

Seungmin paused for a moment, clearly taken aback. “I’m not hovering,” he defended, stepping closer. “I’m just worried. You didn’t tell me you were this sick.”

You let out a bitter laugh, heat rising—not just from the fever but from your frustration. “Oh, now you’re worried Seungmin? After ignoring me for days? You only care when it’s convenient for you.”

His jaw tightened, and he sat down beside you, his voice softer but firm. “I didn’t ignore you y/n. I’ve been busy—”

“Don’t,” you snapped, cutting seungmin off. “You could’ve checked in. A text 'i'm home' or I'm busy' doesn’t take much effort, Seungmin.”

Seungmin sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m here now, aren’t I? I’m trying to help. Can you at least let me?”

You turned to face Seungmin, your exhaustion and irritation swirling together. “I’m too tired to argue,” you muttered. “But I don’t want to eat. Just... stop pushing.”

Seungmin didn’t say anything for a moment, his gaze dropping to the floor. Finally, he stood up and walked to the kitchen. You heard the sound of running water as he dumped out the soup, and guilt pricked at you, but you were too drained to say anything.

When he came back, he sat down quietly, leaning back against the couch. After a few moments, he said softly, “I know I messed up. I’m sorry. Let me take care of you now, even if you’re mad at me.” Seungmin continued "did you eat something today or yesterday, i know you can't eat well when you get sick, did you eat the soup?" you just shook your head.. Seungmin start to get annoyed with your stubborn.

Seungmin gets up to get the soup again, he's going to make sure you eat tonight."You should eat," Seungmin prompted you gently. trying to coax you out of couch. You had been trying to sleep off your violent cold you somehow acquired from work. The suggestion of moving out of your comfort space wasn't so appealing, not when you had finally found the angle to stop your nose running or your throat to feel irritated enough to send you into a coughing fit.

"I bring food for you, let's not waste it," Seungmin sighed, stroking hair out of your face tenderly. You shook your head

"But you need to eat now," Seungmin insisted softly. You knew he was Worried about you, and it made you feel bad for being so stubborn about this.

"Left there. i will eat later" you said softly

"Don't put it off. I bring the food you make to make sure you eat" he encouraged, gently tugging at your arm to get you to sit up, so he could place a tray on your lap. You look up "why did you came?"

"What, you didn't think I would be checking in on you?" Seungmin scoffed gently, sitting on the edge of your bed with you. "Why wouldn't I come and see you?"

I felt a lump form in my throat, and I could barely hold back the tears. “You’ve been ignoring me for a week... I’ve been trying to reach you, and you kept hanging up every time I called. I didn’t know what to think.”

His face fell, and he stepped closer to me. “I know. I messed up. I didn’t mean to shut you out. I was dealing with some stuff, but that’s no excuse. I should’ve been there for you.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I just looked down at the floor. The silence between us was heavy, but it felt like he truly regretted his actions.

“I’ll make it right,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “I’ll take care of you now. I’m not leaving until you’re okay.”

"But you have been ignored me for one week... I need you but you keep shutting me out. But then because I'm sick you came? Because of what?Why did you came?" Seungmin froze at your words, and instantly, guilt consumed his expression.

"Hey, stop... I haven't been ignoring you," he denied, even if the truth wasn't on his side. "I just... I've been busy with work is all"

He reached to take your hand, threading his fingers with yours. "Listen, I'm here now, aren't i? Don't think that I don't care about you," Seungmin murmured, biting his lip.

"Hey." Seungmin said, more firmly. He cupped your chin with his other hand, forcing you to look at him properly.

"You know I love you, right? Just because I'm a little busy it doesn't mean i don't want to be around you. l'd have never come here if I didn't want to see you," he confessed, frowning as you continued to look miserable. "Am i that clingy"

"No-!" Seungmin's eyebrows furrowed at your broken tone. He looked a little sad that you would even suggest that. "| didn't mean it when I said that, okay? I was just annoyed, I didn't mean a word of it... I like your clingy, I just... I was stupid," he muttered, looking frustrated with himself.

"Then am i a burden to you" you look at him . "You aren't a burden to me," Seungmin reassured you tenderly, rubbing your shoulder. He sighed heavily, still a little frustrated that he had made you feel this way.

"How many times have I told you that you're the most important thing to me," he mumbled, gently resting his forehead on yours. "The idea of losing you.. Scares me. YoU aren't a burden to me. And you aren't clingy, either. But you are mine," he added, pressing his lips against your forehead.

"But you keep shutting me out" On the verge of tears

"I know. I know" Seungmin pulled back, looking frustrated with himself. He ran a hand through his short black hair restlessly.

"I don't know why I shut you out, it wasn't intentional. I'm just an ass sometimes," he mumbled, sighing.

"Do you. Do you really think I don't want you?" He mumbled, looking genuinely saddened by the idea. " Because you keep ignoring me, i can't help the thought" you look away

"I don't ignore you," Seungmin denied, but it was a weak protest. He had a terrible habit of shutting you out when he was stressed. "I don't know because you keep ignorig me"

"Honestly, it's not even me that does it... It's like, I'm fine, and things are great, but the second something stressful happens it's like you're at the back of my mind... And then a week goes by, and I feel like an idiot." He ran a hand through his hair stressed, looking guilty. Silent

Seungmin took a deep breath, trying to control the frustration building up in him. He hated himself for making you feel this way.

"I'm an idiot, okay? A real jerk... But I love you. You don't, for a second, believe that I don't want you.. right?" He asked, grabbing your hand again and gently holding it in both of his hands. You keep silent and look away

"Hey," he said, his voice firm. "Look at me." Seungmin grabbed your chin to force you to look at him again. Despite the slight frown, it was obvious that he was desperate for you to pay attention.

"Have I ever not been into you?" He asked quietly, gently caressing your chin with his thumb. "Have I ever been annoyed with you hanging on me? I... I like it, and I need it," Seungmin mumbled, looking frustrated with his Own actions. Or, more so, his lack of actions.

You still avoid his eyes. Seungmin huffed a little, gripping your chin a bit firmer to keep you facing him. "Please just look at me," he pleaded, looking pained that you still refused to look at him. He didn't want you to be so distant from him, it hurt him to see you looking so cold towards him.

You finally look at him.Seungmin felt a wave of relief wash over him when you looked at him. It was still a bit frustrating that you had looked away in the first place, but at least you weren't avoiding his gaze now.

"You can be as clingy as you want," he mumbled. "In fact, please be. I want you to be." He ruffles your head softly, but still you don't give any response

"Please say something," Seungmin groaned frustrated. He hated that you wouldn't talk to him. Was he really making you that angry?

He gently caressed your cheek, trying to coax you into speaking. "I'm here now... and I'm not going anywhere," he attempted to reassure you, even if he didn't know if he'd be able to keep that promise again.

"Why did you come when I got sick? Do i need to get sick every time I need your attention?" Softly mumble, you look at you lap

"No," Seungmin huffed, gently gripping your chin and forcing you to look at him. He hated your tone - it was so cold, and it hurt him that you felt like this.

"No, you don't need to be sick to get my attention... Don't say stuff like that," he mumbled, looking upset by your statement.

"I'm glad that han see you at the pharmacy, I'm sorry because i left you alone, leaving you hanging without reaching to you" He gripped your chin, forcing you to look at him again. He didn't like it when you Wouldn't look at him. He liked the feeling of your eyes on him a lot, it made him feel a lot of things.

"Hey, I need you, okay? And i know it's not easy to forget that if I keep... shutting you out, but I do. I always need you," Seungmin mumbled, desperately trying to get you to believe him.

"You know that I have trust issues" He gripped your chin a little firmer, making you look at him again. His hand was warm on your chin, the gentlest yet firm touch.

"I know. And i know that l'm not exactly helping that.." he mumbled, looking frustrated. It hurt that he had been the one to contribute to your trust issues.

"Please tell me I haven't broken your trust entirely," Seungmin mumbled,

feeling a heavy ball of guilt and sadness in his chest. "Maybe, i don't know" you said as looking at him

Seungmin swallowed hard, feeling that lump in his throat expand. You were so closed off to him now and, god, he hated it. It was his Own damn fault for acting the way he did, and now he wanted nothing more than to hold you, to make you look at him normally again.

"Hey, please," he murmured brokenly. "I hate this. Don't... don't be so distant"

"I can't help when you keep brushing me off" you play with your hands.

"I'm sorry," Seungmin mumbled, feeling like an incredible jerk for acting the way he had.

He gently pulled you closer to him, wrapping his arms around your waist.He buried his face into your shoulder, pulling you against him. He had missed this. The feeling of you in his arms, the feeling of your body against his.

Seungmin tightened his grip when you tried to pull away. pulling you closer against him and shaking his head.

"Don't hug me, what if you get infected" you tried to push him

"| don't care," he mumbled, burying his face in your shoulder more. He took a deep breath, drinking in your scent that he had missed so much this past week. "Don't Seungmin"

"No," he mumbled firmly, refusing to let you pull away from him.

His grip on your was tight, refusing to budge. He wanted you against him,he needed to feel your body against him. He needed it.

"I will eat but after that you need to go" you finally decide to eat, Seungmin felt a wave of disappointment hit him again, but he nodded reluctantly.

"Yeah. Yes, okay," he mumbled. He didn't want to leave, especially after finally being able to be with you again, but he couldn't really argue. He had been ignoring you for a week, after all. "Give me the food" you reach your hands

Seungmin felt hurt by your cold command, but he couldn't blame you. Hehad been acting ike an idiot.He grabbed the tray of food he had left on the couch, handing it over to you.

He continued to linger, staring at you for a moment. Part of him was desperate to stay here, but he knew it would be better to give you Some space. But he still didn't want to leave. "why" as you see he fidgeted awkwardly for a moment, biting his lip.

"l don't wanna go," Seungmin mumbled quietly. He was being honest. He didn't want to leave, he wanted to stay and keep his arms wrapped around you. He fidgeted again, looking at you with a conflicted look on his face.

He knew that he should give you space, but he didn't want to leave. He wanted, needed to stay with you.

"Can I... Can I just stay a little longer?" He mumbled quietly. "Why" you slowly look at him

"Because I miss you," Seungmin mumbled, looking at you with sadness in his eyes. He missed being close with you, he missed having you in his arms like before. It hurt, being apart from you.

"Because I don't want to leave when you still won't look at me."

Seungmin's expression dropped when you didn't even look him. It was like a stinging pain in his chest. You still wouldn't look at him.

You look at him and ask is that enough

"No," he murmured, feeling frustrated. "It's not enough. Look at me, please." Seungmin felt a bit of relief wash over him when you finally looked at him.

But it didn't feel the same as when you normally look at him.

"I'm already staring at you "

"I mean...properly" he mumbled, gripping your chin gently to keep your gaze on him.

"Don't touch, I'm eating" Seungmin huffed a little, pouting a bit when you told him not to touch.

"You don't like it when I touch you anymore," he mumbled, the words leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

"Because I'm eating" coldly

"Yeah, I know you're eating," Seungmin mumbled, watching you eat. Part of him was a bit glad you couldn't talk while you were busy eating, because he wasn't sure if he could deal with your tone again. But he still felt hurt about the distance and his own damn fault.

He continued to watch you eating, a conflicted look on his face. He wanted to touch you, but he knew that you had told him not to. He desperately wanted to pull you into his lap, to kiss down your neck, to hold you close. But, he knew that he couldn't because he didn't deserve that privilege right now.

Seungmin's eyes widened a bit when you suddenly got up, feeling a small bit of panic rise in his chest.

"Where are you going?" He immediately questioned, his voice a bit worried

"water"

Seungmin felt a small bit of relief wash over him as you responded to him,but he still felt worried.

"Alone?" He questioned, his voice quiet and a bit concerned. You Hm, Seungmin grimaced a bit, not liking the quiet hum as a response. He fidgeted with his fingers fora second, before carefully asking another question. "Can I... Can I come with you?"

"Why, you stay there... The kitchen is not far"

Seungmin felt a pang of disappointment as you told him to stay there. Hewanted to come with you, he didn't want to be apart from you again.

"Please, " he said, his voice sounding a bit desperate. "I..l just don't want to be apart from you..."

"Hm"

Seungmin was growing more and more frustrated with your short responses. He just wanted to be near you, and you seemed so cold to him right now.

"Just let me come with you," he pleaded brokenlų, his tone almost

sounding desperate.

"Quick, I'm choking"

Seungmin immediately snapped out of whatever he was feeling when he heard your words, now just feeling worried and panicked.

"You're choking?" He questioned, already on his feet and rushing over to you. He grabbed your shoulders, his grip on you firm as he tried to assess the situation. His heart was racing in his chest, worry consuming him as he held onto you.

"Are you okay?" He questioned, looking you over franticly.

"Because there's no water"

Seungmin felt his annoyance rise again when you responded with another short response. He squeezed your shoulders again, not exactly Sure of the reason why he was feeling so annoyed and frustrated right now.

"So you said you were choking because you were thirsty?" He questioned, his tone a bit sharp.

"hm"

Seungmin felt like he was going to lose his mind if you responded with another single word. He was already frustrated with how cold and distant you were being, and it was making his emotions a mess. "Stop just giving me one word answers!" He snapped frustratedly.

You rise your eyebrows, Seungmin realised that he had just snapped at you and immediately regretted it. He didn't mean to snap at you, especially when he was the reason why you were being so distant in the first place.

He sighed heavily. gently letting go of your shoulders as another wave of guilt hit him.

“Im sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped at you,” he mumbled, rubbing his forehead.

As you turned to go to the kitchen, Seungmin felt another pang of helplessness run through him. It made him feel like a damn idiot, watching you turn and walk away like that.

He felt like he should try to follow you, to keep you close. But he didn’t know if you actually wanted him around right now.

“Quick if you want to follow me” as you sense that he’s not following you

Seungmin immediately followed after you without pausing. He wanted to follow you, he needed to be close to you. He followed you like a puppy into the kitchen, his footsteps a bit quicker than an usual. You find it cute, you chuckle softly, make that he didn’t see.

As you guys arrive at the kitchen “Glass and medicine in the box behind you”

Seungmin Immediately grabbed a glass for you and the medicine, watching you closely as he waited for you to fill the glass with water est medicine. He was desperately trying to not be apart from you.

“came here”

Seungmin was thrown off by how you suddenly spoke, telling him to come with you. He was a bit surprised that you had even asked him to come towards you, but he didn’t wait to follow your instructions. He immediately stepped forward, walking until he was right in front of you.

Seungmin looked at the glass that you held out to him for a second, before slowly taking it from you. His fingers brushed over yours briefly. And for a small moment, it felt as if it was before the last week.

But he broke out of the feeling quickly enough, and he looked at you. Waiting for you to tell him what to do next.

“Drink”

Seungmin couldn’t help but feel a pang of irritation again at your short command, but he did as you said. Drinking the water in the glass that you had given him.

He could feel your eyes on him, even if you weren’t looking directly at him, and he felt a sense of.. anticipation? He didn’t know quite what to call it.

“Aren’t you tired?” You softly ruffle his hair

Seungmin felt another pang of guilt at your words. He knew that you were right. Seungmin was a little thrown off by your next question. Was he tired?..

Of course he was tired, he hadn’t gotten any decent amount of sleep for the past week. But he didn’t want to say that he was tired. He didn’t want to show any kind of weakness to you right now.

He nodded his head slightly, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Yeah, a little,” he mumbled, trying to not sound tired.

"You need to rest, you have been overwork yourself"

Seungmin felt another guilt hit his chest. You were right, he had been overworking himself. He felt a bit sheepish that you had noticed it, and that you were concerned about him. But he couldn’t help but feel happy that you still care about him and sad because he needs to go,if he wants to rest.

He gripped the glass even tighter, his voice a little frustrated.

“I’m fine, I can stay up.”

“Nope you need to rest , You can stay here, but you need to sleep.. I need to see with my own eyes that you rest.” you touch seungmin hair softly

Seungmin immediately grew more relaxed when you told him that he could stay there, but he grew more reluctant when you said that he needed to sleep.

He was about to protest, but all words died on his tongue when you touched his hair. It felt… reassuring. Comforting almost.

He didn’t want to sleep, as selfish as that was. But he slowly relented, knowing that he couldn’t argue with you anymore.

“Okay,” he mumbled weakly.

“Promise”

Seungmin felt another pang of guilt and worry as you demanded that he promise you. He didn’t know if he could promise to sleep, but he knew that hat he didn t want to disappoint you right now.

He gave a reluctant nod, his expression a bit sheepish as he spoke. “I promise.” After a minute goes by silent from both of you

“You want to touch me” You ask seungmin

Seungmin felt another flood of nervous and awkward energy as you questioned him directly. He hadn’t expected that kind of question, but the answer was an obvious yes. He did want to touch you, he wanted to be close to you.

He felt sheepishness as he answered quietly, his voice small but firm. “Yes… I do.”

Seungmin was trying to avold your gaze as he answered, trying to keep his voice steady and firm. He felt a mixture of nervousness, but there was a hint of desire in his voice too.

He was quiet for a few moments afterwards, unsure what else to say or do. He just wanted to be close to you, to touch you.

“Hmm okay.. hug me then ”

Seungmin felt his heart skip a beat as you requested a hug. He didn’t hesitate for a moment, he immediately wrapped his arms around you. Pulling you into a tight, warm embrace.

He held you close, burying his face into your shoulder as he spoke with a soft, sincere voice.

“I’m really sorry,” he mumbled quietly. His eyes closing as he held onto you tight. You rub his back softly

Seungmin felt a mix of emotions as he held you in his arms, feeling both relieved and guilty. He was relieved that you were so understanding and forgiving, but also guilty that he had caused any pain in the first place.

He tightened his grip on you slightly, mumbling into your shoulder, his voice quiet and sincere.

“I don’t want to hurt you, I just… get stupid sometimes,” he mumbled sheepishly, feeling vulnerable in this moment.

“Me too. Sorry for keep craving your attention too much” You apologise

Seungmin felt a pang of sympathy as you apologised for craving his attention too much. He knew that it was his fault that you had felt the need to do that, and he felt guilty about it.

He pulled back a little, looking at you gently as he spoke, his voice soft.

“No, you don’t have to apologise for that. It’s my fault that I made you feel like you needed to do that. I promise I’ll give you more attention from now on.” He assured you.

“Hmmm, love, do I smelled bad? I didn’t shower yet today because I feel too cold” You tried to get away from the topic.

Seungmin felt concern for you as you asked him if you smelled bad. He could tell that you had been feeling cold and hadn’t showered yet today, and he wanted to make sure you were comfortable and clean.

He spoke in a soft tone, his voice full of care. “No, you don’t smell bad, but if you’re feeling cold, a hot shower might make you feel better. Do you want me to help you get ready?”

“Yes please” You nodded enthusiasm

Seungmin felt a wave of relief as you finally agreed to let him take care of you. He knew that you were stubborn and independent, but he was glad that you were letting your guard down a little, allowing him to pamper you. He smiled warmly, his arms still gently holding you.

“Good. Now, let me help you into the shower, alright? You’ll feel so much better after a warm shower.”

Seungmin carefully led you to the bathroom, his hand steady on your back. He made sure you were stable on your feet before starting the shower, adjusting the water temperature to be comfortably warm.

He turned to you, his voice gentle. “yn/ do you need any help undressing, or do you think you can manage?”

“Help me, but seungmin I’m cold” you shivering,

Seungmin felt sympathy as you mentioned that you were cold. He knew that you were feeling particularly cold and vulnerable, and he wanted to make sure you were as comfortable as possible.

He immediately stepped closer to you, his hands gently reaching for the hem of your clothes, careful not to touch your skin too soon.

“It’s okay, I’l help you. Just hold onto me, okay? I’ll warm you up soon.”

Seungmin slowly helped you out of your clothes, being gentle and patient.

He could see the shivers shaking your body and the goosebumps rising on your skin. He wished he could wrap you in a warm blanket right away, but he knew that first, he had to get you into the warm shower.

Once you were undressed, he carefully guided you to the shower and under the warm spray of water.

“I know it’s cold, but it’ll get better soon, I promise, Just give it a few more moments, okay? Let the water warm you up.” Seungmin tried to convince you

When you see he step away from the shower “You don’t want to join me” you ask him

Seungmin surprise at your suggestion, his cheeks flushing slightly. He hadn’t expected you to ask him to join you in the shower, but he couldn’t deny that the idea was tempting.

He fidgeted for a moment, a mixture of shyness and anticipation in his eyes.

“If you want or am I too much” You think you embarrassed yourself

Seungmin shook his head, a small smile on his lips. He found your question endearing, the way you asked if you were being too much.

He stepped closer to the shower, his voice calm and gentle.“No, you’re not too much. I’ll join you. If you don’t mind.”

“Come” You pull him

Seungmin felt a mix of excitement and shyness as you invited him to join you in the shower. He took a deep breath. Willing himself to not get too flustered

He stepped towards the shower, carefully stepping under the warm spray of water next to you. Seungmin stood in the shower next to you, the warm water cascading over both your bodies. He couldn’t help but feel a little self-conscious, a blush rising to his cheeks as he tried not to stare at you too obviously.

He spoke in a soft tone, his hands gently touching your arms.“Is the water better now? Warmer?” You nodded

He continued washing you, his hands carefully and gently moving over your skin. He spoke again, a hint of affection in his voice. “It’s okay, don’t worry about it. Just relax and let me take care of you.”

Seungmin continued to gently lather the shower gel onto your body, his hands moving slowly and tenderly over your skin. He enjoyed the feeling of your soft, warm skin under his fingertips.

As he washed your body, he noticed that despite his efforts to stay focused, he was having a hard time concentrating, his mind wandering to less innocent thoughts.

“Oh, isn’t this your body shower? Did you leave it?” you ask

He replied gently, a hint of playfulness in his voice. “No, love. That’s yours. I have a different one. I wouldn’t want my scent to take over yours.”

“But how did you know we have different body shower” Seungmin smiled as you asked how he knew they had different body showers

He replied gently, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Well, for one, I’m familiar with my own scent. And secondly, I know you prefer the floral ones, while I lean towards the musky ones. You’ve told me before.”

“Oh really “ Seungmin chuckled again, finding your confusion endearing. He continued washing you, his hands carefully and gently moving over

"Y/n, I want to ask, did you recently into my group?” He ask while massage your scalp, you surprise at the attention, you thought that you being secretly about that.” Oh you caught me?”

“It wasn’t difficult to guess, love. I could sense the change in your demeanour, the way you talked about my group with a sparkle in your eyes. Plus, I know you’ve been watching our performances and content lately. So, who’s your new favourite member, love? Don’t leave me hanging.”

“I don’t want to tell you” you giggles, Seungmin feigned hurt, pretending to clutch his heart in mock despair. He spoke in an exaggerated woeful tone, his voice filled with overly dramatic sadness.

“What? Why won’t you tell me, love? I thought we had no secrets between us. Now you’ve piqued my curiosity. Come on, don’t leave me in the dark. I Just want to know, who’s the lucky member who won your heart?”

“Can you promise that you will not stop me from admire him” you look up at him

Seungmin raised an eyebrow in curiosity, a small smile on his lips. He was still trying to guess who your new favourite member is, and he wanted to know why you needed such a promise from him.

He spoke gently, his voice filled with curiosity and a hint of possessiveness.

“Sure, I promise I won’t stop you from admiring whoever it is. You have my word. But I’m curious… why do you need me to promise you that, love?”

He spoke in a soft, affectionate voice, a hint of possessiveness in his tone.

"Because of your possessive and jealousy "

Seungmin couldn’t deny the truth in your words. He did have a possessive and jealous streak, and he knew you were aware of it. He chuckled softly, his expression sheepish, yet genuine.

“You got me there. I can’t deny my tendencies to be possessive and jealous, especially when it comes to you. But I promise you, I’ll try to keep it under control. Your admiration is your own, and I’ll respect that. Now, please tell me who your new favorite member is. You’re making me squirm in suspense here.”

smiling while pointing at him "You"

Seungmin’s eyes widened in surprise, a soft gasp escaping his lips. He hadn’t expected you to say that your favorite member was him. He felt a mixed rush of emotions—shock, happiness, and a hint of possessiveness.

“Me? Are you serious? I’m your favorite member now? Are you sure you’re not just teasing me, love?”

You nodded,Seungmin’s heart skipped a beat at your affirmation. The possessive streak in him felt satisfied, knowing that he had won your favouritism. At the same time, he was still in disbelief.

He spoke in a soft, affectionate voice, a hint of possessiveness in his tone.

“You really mean it? You really see me as your favorite member now? I don’t know what to say… I’m honored and flattered, but I also can’t help feeling a bit… possessive. You’re mine now, you know that, right?”

"I know that" You smile.. you hold his neck and whisper "I’m cold let’s get out"

Seungmin chuckled softly as you held his neck, whispering to him that you were cold and wanted to get out. He found your clinginess endearing, and the possessiveness in him stirred again as he felt your touch and heard your words.

He spoke in a warm, playfully authoritative tone, his voice filled with affection and a hint of possessiveness.

“Ah, I see you’re feeling cold again. You’re always in need of my warmth, aren’t you, love? Let’s get out, then. Can’t have you freezing on me.”

He started walking with you in his arms, heading towards the exit. His protective instincts kicked in as he held you snugly against him, making sure to keep you warm and shielded from the cold.

As he walked, he whispered in your ear, his voice filled with a mix of affection and possessiveness.

“You’re safe now, love. I’ve got you. Nobody else can make you feel warm like I can. You’re mine and mine alone. Just lean on me.”

He placed a gentle kiss on your forehead before pulling away reluctantly. He was loathe to leave your side, even for a moment, but he knew he needed to find something to wear.

He spoke in a playful yet reassuring tone, his voice filled with a hint of mock drama.

“Don’t miss me too much now. I’ll be right back, love. I promise I won’t be long. Just wait for me, okay?”

With that, he reluctantly released his grip on you and began searching for some clothes nearby. His eyes scanned the surroundings, looking for anything that could serve as suitable attire for the night. You look at him with so much love

“Found some suitable clothes for the night, love. Don’t worry, I made sure to avoid any bras in there, just like you requested. Easy access, as you said.”

He closed the drawer, holding the clothes in his hand, and walked back towards you, a small smirk on his face. “how about you? Your clothes in the third drawer” he knows, the third drawer is specifically for him

He smirked and spoke in a soft, yet possessive tone, his voice filled with a hint of anticipation. “i know that and got my clothes for the night, love. Just the way you wanted, eh?”

He closed the distance between you and him, standing before you with a mix of playfulness and possessiveness in his eyes.

“Ready to get back into bed, love? I’ve got my clothes now, and I’m all warmed up thanks to you. Let’s get cozy and snuggle up close, like we always do.”

“Yes please” you pull him to you, Seungmin smiled affectionately at your eagerness to snuggle up with him

He loved how you always welcomed his closeness, and it made him feel even closer to you.

“Of course, love. Let’s get back into bed now. I want to hold you close and feel your warmth against me. Let’s get cozy and warm together.”

He held your hand gently, leading you back towards the bed. He climbed into the bed and patted the space next to him, signaling for you to come join him.

As you snuggled up next to him, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer and cuddling you close to his bare chest. He spoke in a soft, affectionate tone, his voice filled with a hint of contentment and possessiveness.

“There we go. Much better. I have you in my arms again, where you belong. I love holding you like this, love.”

He gently nuzzled his nose against your hair, inhaling your scent and feeling a sense of comfort and famillarity.

“You smell amazing, love. I could just stay like this forever, holding you in my arms and breathing you in. You’re so warm and soft against me. I could never get enough of this.”

“I use your hair essential oil” as you snuggle closer to him

Seungmin smiled, recognizing the scent of his favorite hair essential oil still lingering on you. He chuckled softly and spoke in a soft, appreciative tone, his voice filled with affection.

“Ah, you’re using my favorite hair essential oil again, huh? That’s why you smell so amazing. It’s like you’re wrapped in my scent, even when I’m not around. I love it.”

He snuggled closer to you, nuzzling his face against your neck and taking in a deep breath of your scent.

“You know, I could recognize your scent from miles away. It’s so unique and special to me. I’ll never get tired of it, especially when it’s mixed with my favorite scent.”

He began to gently trail kisses along your neck, his lips caressing your skin with tenderness and affection.

“I could lose myself in your scent, love. It’s like a drug to me, addictive and intoxicating. And when you smelli like my favorite essential oil, it just makes it even harder to resist you.”

“It’s tickle love” Seungmin realized your neck was ticklish from his kisses and started to chuckle softly.

He spoke in a playful tone, his voice filled with mild amusement.

“Ah, are you ticklish here, love? I didn’t mean to tickle you. But it’s cute, you know, how sensitive your neck is to my kisses.”

He continued peppering soft, light kisses along your neck, his lips gently brushing against your skin, taking care not to tickle you too much.

“I’ll be more careful, love. I don’t want to make you too ticklish. But I just can’t resist kissing your neck, it’s so inviting and sensitive.”

He planted a lingering kiss on your neck, his lips lingering on your skin for a few moments, before pulling away ever so slightly.

“You know, I could never tire of kissing your neck, love. It’s like a canvas, a canvas just waiting for me to mark and claim.” He spoke in a soft, yet possessive tone, his voice filled with a hint of possessiveness and desire.

“I want to leave my mark on your neck, love. I want to claim you as mine, and make it abundantly clear that you belong to me and me only.” He continue

“Do it” Seungmin chuckled at your insistence for him to leave his mark on your neck, his possessive side stirring again. He spoke in a soft, yet authoritative tone, his voice filled with a hint of playfulness.

“Oh, you want me to do it, love? You really want me to mark you as my own, huh? Well, who am I to refuse a request like that?”

He gently tilted your head to the side, giving him better access to your neck. He began to gentiy kiss and nibble on your skin, his lips moving along your neck in a slow, deliberate manner.

As he marked your neck, he spoke between kisses, his voice filled with possessiveness and desire.

“You’re mine, love. Remember that. This mark on your neck is proof of that. You belong to me and me only.”

“I know” You smile widely

Seungmin smiled as you acknowledged your belonging to him, the possessive side of him greatly enjoying your affirmation.

He continued marking your neck, his teeth gently nipping at your skin, his lips gently sucking and biting, leaving a trail of hickeys along your neck.

As he marked you, he spoke in a soft, yet authoritative tone, his voice filled with a hint of possessiveness and ownership.

“That’s right, love. Remember that you belong to me. Your body, your mind, your heart – they are all mine. No one else has the right to touch you like this.”

“ I love you seungmin, love you sooo much” you pull his face softly, and kiss his lip..” let’s sleep okey” seungmin chuckle.. “love you too, y/n. Let’s sleep “ seungmin kiss your forehead

As the minutes ticked by, seungmin could feel his own eyelids growing heavier, the combination of exhaustion and the soothing rhythm of your breaths making it increasingly difficult to stay awake. But still, he refused to let himself fully slip into sleep, his possessive nature adamant that he remain vigilant and protect you, even in your most vulnerable state.

And seungmin finally drift off sleep, It took some time, but eventually, exhaustion overcame Seungmin, and he surrendered to the pull of sleep. His grip on you loosened ever so slightly, his arms still encircling you protectively, even in his rest.

His face relaxed, the tension draining away as he slumbered, the lines on his forehead softening and his expression growing peaceful.

In his sleep, he instinctively pulled you closer to him, his subconscious seeking your warmth and presence, even in his state of unconsciousness.

He subconsciously nuzzled his face against your hair, his breath warm on your skin.

The steady rhythm of his breathing filled the room, the sound of his soft, even breaths creating a soothing white noise. Every now and then, he would make a soft, content sound in his sleep, as if dreaming pleasantiy, his body completely relaxed and at ease as he held you close.

The hours ticked by, and still, Seungmin slept on, his hold on you

The room was quiet save for the sound of his soft breathing, a comforting rhythm that filled the space. The tranquility was only broken by the occasional shift or murmur from Seungmin, as he snuggled even closer to

You in his sleep. His arms unconsciously tightening around you.

What do you think guys, this one really take me for days to complete it.

Sorry for wrong title in poster.. i put the wrong one and can't change it.. so yeay..

If you have any idea, tell me

22 notes · View notes

nanamis-bigtie · 1 day ago

Text

impromptu rendezvous

↬ hanamaki takahiro x fem!reader ↬ ao3 version // kofi // commissions

cw: smut, fem & rather feminine reader, friends to lovers, drunk sex, love confessions, vaginal sex, creampie summary: through the years of close friendship you have never felt anything romantic towards hanamaki...but have you really? you feign being drunk to escape an overwhelming party and when he takes care of you, you can't bring yourself to refuse his help. instead, you keep the game rolling until you find yourselves alone in your apartment. word count: 4,791 a/n: re-upload of commission i did for @antique-remains (i'm sorry, i deleted the og post in a moment of crisis 😭) once again, thank you for letting me work for you! divider by saradika

"My, my, aren't you a good wife?"

Matsun's sarcastic comment has Hanamaki's eyebrows twitch with irritation, but he doesn't stop nor retort. He's had his good dose of alcohol too, shoelaces of your boots tangling between his fingers as he's kneeling on one knee between your legs, leaning slightly to the right. It puts strain into your own knee but you don't mind; you like the weight of his body and its warmth, especially now, your mind foggy and overwhelmed. It's familiar and personal, great comfort amidst the chaos and noise, and the crowd filling the apartment a little much for your limits.

You didn't hate the party—no, you were always looking forward to Matsun's—but it strained you far past what you expected. You didn't make it easy for yourself either, pouring too much into yourself and too fast. And tomorrow's morning classes be damned, you were ready for even more, but Hanamaki was right there, with his overshielding that was sometimes getting on your nerves, but so needed right then. Gently but firmly, he moved your glass away and excused you both from the company. Soon, you've been herded towards the hallway, packed into your jacket, having your purse shoved under your arm, and sat down for him to deal with your boots.

You're not that drunk to not be able to take care of yourself but once he's dropped to his knees, you've felt it's best to keep your mouth shut and just let him. Wouldn't be the first time either and you know better than to argue against his care—but you can't pretend you don't like him like this now, with his flushed cheeks between your legs, eyebrows knit in focus and their little twitch at Matsun's teasing behind his back. The urge to thread fingers through his hair is real and persistent; you know how soft it is, and you know the smell of his shampoo would linger on your fingers for quite some time but, again, you're not that drunk. Such a move would be shameless even for your long and close friendship, and feigning daze right under Matsukawa's nose could as well be a straight confession of feelings.

Nothing could escape those knowing eyes, even what you haven't dared to admit to yourself. No, it's better to play stupid and limp, and to nibble on your bottom lip, watching Makki on his knees for you, letting him dart you up and wrap arm around your waist once he's dressed himself, ready to lead you outside and to your apartment.

"You're gonna be okay?" Matsukawa is dead serious now, holding the door for you two and lingering there even as you make it past the garden and pavement to your Uber ride.

"We've been worse," Hanamaki scoffs, no offense taken though. "Get back there and don't drown yourself in beer."

"Sure. Don't break your legs or something."

Your place is only a couple of blocks away but in your current state it would take forever to get there on foot. You would still try though, too dazed to think of a ride, but what do you have Hanamaki for, if not for being your brain in times like these? It would be enough to pack you into the car and trust the driver with the delivery, but he took a seat next to you and let you lean against him.

Matsun's not there anymore to judge and tease you so you grow bolder, as bold as you can in presence of a bystander right under your nose. The crook of Hanamaki's neck is tailored for the shape of your head; you nuzzle up there and close your eyes, to ease the dizziness caused by car's vibrations, yes, but first and foremost to soak yourself in his scent. It's duller under the lingering smell of the party, of the crowd, smoke and that sharp, teasing aftertaste of beer and vodka, but you can still catch a glimpse of him. His cologne is subtle but persistent, like him, but there's the shampoo and shower gel combo you will always recognize after countless times of finding it in your own bathroom after he's spent a night on your couch.

And under that, deeper, there's him, the natural scent of his body, embarrassingly familiar for the distance you, despite everything, still keep.

It's the scent you've known for the longest and, in prospect of over ten years of your friendship, it's so funny how offensive you found it at first. Always in a hurry, from volleyball club to precious hours reserved for friends, barely squeezed into his tight schedule, he skipped a shower here and there, and as he never smelled bad to you, for some reason it irritated you how much he stood out for your nose and how it distracted you.

You've drilled a habit of keeping his hygiene always on point. But now, in the confines of the small car, with the rough edge of his jacket nuzzled up to your cheek, you wish you could smell more of him, if only a little.

Friends, even the best kind, don't cram their noises into their necks during their shared Uber ride, the sobering part of your brain is trying to point your attention to that, but you ignore it. And Hanamaki doesn't mind it, even wraps his arm around you shortly before you reach your destination, way too late for your liking. But the hold soon returns, first helping you out of the car, then keeping you straight up the stairs and into the elevator, finally leading you to your door.

"Even a blind person could rob you," he mutters, fishing the keys out of your pocket with ease. The lock clicks open with half of a turn, and he sighs, concerned and amused alike.

"Shut up," you mumble, hanging on his shoulder more than needed. "No one has robbed me before."

"Fortune favors fools, eh?"

"You're calling me stupid?" You withstand when he's trying to push you past the threshold—well, as much as your wobbly legs can, heels not helping your case. You're having a taste of upper hand only because Hanamaki lets you, you know it from the playful flickers in his eyes; he's squinting and tilting head to side as you're pulling him two steps back into the corridor—just for him to set you into your prior position with a single pull.

"I'm calling you drunk and too light-hearted." He's finally done and tugs at your arm until you lose balance—and fall straight into his arms, then over his shoulder as he's tripped you, and picks you up with ease.

"I'm gonna scream!" You kick and wiggle, but he knows your tricks too well to let you slip out.

"Sure, scream, princess." Covering you with one arm, he shuts the door behind your backs. "Show me what those little lungs can do."

You're carried into the living room, then thrown onto the couch, seemingly with no care for your state, but you know Makki could be far less gentle, if he really wanted to pay you back for your little games. Your mind is fuzzy more from hanging over his shoulder than the landing itself—but still not fuzzy enough to stop you in your tracks. You shamelessly stretch legs, one foot playfully slotted in his hand; he rolls his eyes but undoes the boot, then the other, then helps you out of your jacket and carries everything to the hallway.

He's mapped your apartment better than your current, overly absent roommate has, and you're ready to bet he's actually spent more time here than her through all those years of crashing on your couch. In no time he has a bottle of water and painkillers for you, a heated blanket is pulled out of the cabinet and thrown over your legs, he even helps you with your skincare duty, bringing you make-up removal wipes.

"You could have carried me straight to bed." You didn't want to sound whiny or disappointed, but it does come across as so; you curl your shoulders, unsure of his next move and for the first time since what seems forever unable to read his expression. Hell, you're unsure of your intentions and reason behind the weird longing, your mind free of thoughts, just waiting for his reaction and feeling weirdly shy, as if you were stripped naked and left for his judgment.

Hanamaki indeed seems to judge you, his head tilted to the side just a little, eyes narrowed much like a cat's a moment before the final pounce. He often does so, an old habit of analyzing the court before a move rubbing off on every aspect of his life, but you haven't paid any particular attention to it until now, when his focus is piercing you inside out.

He can strip you of your confidence like no one, years of your friendship a blessing and a curse alike.

"That's a forbidden territory," he finally settles on ignoring the topic, not dwelling on but not quite letting it die right here and now either. "I ain't that much of a pervert to walk into some girl's bedroom just like that. Especially with a girl ripped to the tits."

"I'm not some girl to you, ain't I?" You huff and pout. "Haven't you said I'm almost like a sister?"

For a moment there's a weird look in his eyes, maybe pain, maybe disappointment, but it's quickly replaced by his good old teasing demeanor, "I wouldn't walk into my sis' bedroom either. Sorry, you either sleep here or crawl there on your own. Good luck."

Hanamaki makes a beeline for the door, ready to slink off but when you call out to him by his name, he immediately freezes and looks over his shoulder, as if you pulled on an invisible leash around his neck.

"You're not staying?" You shimmy into one corner of the couch, leaving the other half for him. "We can order Chinese. And— And maybe watch something. On Netflix or—"

"You are aware how it sounds, right?" He says but he's already throwing his sneakers and jacket off, closing the distance between you in a few wide steps. Couch dips under his weight as he's thrown himself straight at it with a loud groan, your side bobbing under you as a result.

You barely hold a yelp in your throat. Why are you so tense suddenly? You've already been way closer than on two sides of the same couch, the distance between you now wouldn't be anything weird even for people who barely know each other.

When you think about it now, your sobering mind slowly connecting the right puzzles, there is some emotional distance between you two lately. You can't pinpoint when exactly it's started; you've been slowly tiptoeing away from each other, building an invisible, thin veil in between. There's still comfort and familiarity you don't share even with your female friends but it's not the same as it used to be.

For a try, you dare to straighten your legs and rest them on his lap. Makki doesn't budge but palpably lingers with the next move; finally, he cups your feet between his big hands and massages them. You don't really need a relief for them but it's a little ritual you two have developed since you've started wearing high heels.

"Chinese then?" You draw a circle with one foot, playfully avoiding his touch.

"I won't fit a single thing more," he makes a tortured face just at the thought. "I've drunk too much."

"You don't look wasted."

Hanamaki snorts and throws head back, his face out of the range of your vision. You watch his Adam's apple bob when he swallows his laughter, your mouth dry in a way you've never felt for him. Or maybe you have but it's been easier to brush it off without alcohol clearing your mind with a sadistic precision. You're stripped bare by your own chain of bad decisions, nowhere to hide and no way to pretend anymore.

"Neither do you." He tickles the sole of immobilized foot and holds you through the spasm, merciless despite the tenderness of his hold. "You're not that drunk as you try to act, hmm?"

His fingers trail along the side of your foot and ankle, then up your shin, towards the sensitive area around your knee, a thin layer of your stocking in no way able to protect you from incoming tortures. He keeps you on the edge, fingertips hovering over the point you know it will have you scream, cry, and beg—or worse, if he tickles you for too long.

Warmth creeping straight into your core has nothing to do with this anticipation though; it's intense but not rapid, and you take it for alcohol running in your veins at first, at least until immense need for being touched overpowers everything. The urge to squeeze your thighs and trap his hand in between is strong, anxiety squeezing your lungs even stronger, the mess of thoughts and emotions in your head devastating.

It feels...wrong, to react to his touch like this. You're holding the blame for alcohol messing with you, despite being called out on it and despite your body sobering up with each draft of air. No, it surely has to be the drunkard speaking through you, otherwise you would have to admit—

(To admit it feels wrong, but you need it, you need it so bad you might cry, if you won't get it from him.)

Hanamaki grazes the ticklish spot, impatient for your answer, and this time you can't hold a yelp any longer. It's dangerously close to a moan, your heart skips a beat when your eyes meet but he only cocks an eyebrow, waiting, either missing your reaction or ignoring it.

"I had enough," you admit in a whisper, afraid the trembling of your voice will betray you. "Needed to get out but explaining it all to Matsun—"

He chuckles, amused and understanding. Matsukawa could be a pain in the ass with his overzealous nosiness and you surely were drunk enough to find it troublesome.

"You could have at least told me." He tickles you again, forcing you to laugh and jerk up. His hand slides towards the inner side of your leg and doesn't budge from there.

You don't move, either, a little ashamed how easily you caved and accepted the crumbs off the plate. Warmth in you is pulsing, not a wave anymore but the first flicker of fire that's bound to explode if you won't extinguish it right here and now.

"Didn't want to sit here all alone." You throw head back, saving yourself at least the torture of his gaze looking for yours. You wish you didn't throw the blanket on the floor as soon as he threw it at you, you could hide under it and soak back into your excuses and lies.

"You could have told me that too." Hanamaki is unwavering, his thumb rubbing circles into your stocking. "Instead of playing... Whatever it is. Dragging me here like some drunk rando you keep tabs on, letting him seduce you."

You can't read whether he's teasing you or being dead serious—and it's terrifying. The last thing you want is to hurt him, to have him reject you and close the door not only to whatever is happening between you two now but also to your cherished friendship. You love him, as who doesn't really matter. You need him more than just the physical craving, peaking after months, if not years of repressed yearning.

You would never forgive yourself, if you lost it all because of drunk carelessness.

"What if I said I wouldn't mind being seduced by you?" You finally break, all cards on the table. Keeping you both on the edge is the worst outcome, you would rather take the ultimate rejection than toying further with his trust and creating distance you two would never close again.

He sucks in breath through clenched teeth, a few seconds of silence unbearable for your poor, fluttering heart. Weight of his fingers against your thigh grows, he nearly sinks them into your flesh before he speaks, his voice so tense it's almost breaking, "Please tell me it was you who said it, not booze messing with me."

"I wouldn't mind being seduced by you." You repeat and adjust your position, looking straight at him now against the urge to hide your face in your hands. Embarrassment is not a word you two share in your dictionary, but the vulnerability of the moment drives you insane, each passing second feeling like burning hot liquid metal poured straight into your heart.

You watch him wipe his face with a free hand, watch his chest bob with a deep, desperate breath. Eyes closed shut, Hanamaki collects racing thoughts; you see his eyebrows twitching in intense focus, a small bead of sweat dripping down his temple. It lasts a few heartbeats, it feels like hours, surely for the both of you, years of experience in reading each other no relief on this completely different ground.

"You have no idea how many times I've dreamed about it." When he finally speaks, his voice is hoarse and guttural, speaking straight from his core and stripped bare. "Since the last year— Fuck, I don't know for how long, maybe from the beginning... I feel like I always wanted you—"

He hides face in both hands now and groans, frustrated with his own helplessness and tongue tied with the remains of a drunk haze. Both of you have lost the majority of it at this point, though, at least at the mental level.

"I suck at confessions." He finally admits the obvious and you both collapse into giggles in relief. "I'm much better with my hands."

They're both at you again, exploring your legs with more punch to it. Makki follows the seam of your stockings, up and under the hem of your dress until he reaches the lacey welt and toys with them. He takes his time stripping you of them, teasing and testing, relishing in the feel of your bare skin slowly revealing itself for him.

His fingers are warm, but you still shudder when he cradles your ankles and glides up your calves. You spread your legs for him, but he doesn't reach further, for now satisfied with little twitches and goosebumps covering your skin. He's making you pay for your little lie, you realize with an impatient mewl, and he wouldn't mind having you pull the rope towards yourself, but you let him have his way. You feel guilty, after all, for the quirk of tonight and the silence of numerous months. He can have this moment of triumph.

He's bored with it faster than you thought.

"C'mon, baby girl," he tosses your legs away and pats his lap, a faint teasing smirk on his lips.

You don't need to be told twice.

You roll your dress further up and straddle him. Not until now you realized how tense and hot and heavy you've been, your starved and sensitive pussy twitching just at the brush of his jeans. Thin layer of your panties could as well just not exist, you grind on him for relief—irregular, sharp moves of hips, soon cut by both of his arms wrapped tight around you.

Makki kept himself in shape, you note with satisfaction feeling his muscles tense against your waist. You know of his gym routine, of course, but it's a whole different world when you can touch and appreciate him in his whole glory. You sink your hands under his t-shirt, trace his abs and chest to your liking as you lean for a kiss, at first shy, then sliding your tongue in with ease.

You've imagined it before, but the reality is nowhere close to your fantasies. He's good, he's so incredibly good despite the aftertaste of everything you've poured into your throats before and the clumsiness of the first shared kiss. You're ready to drown in it, forgetting about the whole world, even about the dull pulsing between your legs—if not for his hands relentlessly at work, one kneading your ass, the other unzipping your dress and sliding it down your shoulders.

"Can I?" Hanamaki whispers against your lips, his eyes half closed and glossy. He traces the clasp of your bra and undoes it immediately as you nod.

Dress is rolled down your waist, bra—thrown behind the couch. Makki leans back to see you better, mouth slightly agape at the sight. He squeezes your breasts with both hands, feeling their shape against his palms, swallows hard.

"You're so hot..." He mutters, close to choking on his own words.

You press into his touch, chase the closeness as you grind against him with the right rhythm and pressure now. He welcomes you with a needy groan, his face shoved into your neck, sucking and nibbling, and even daring to bite.

"I'm sorry," he kisses a beeline towards your chest, hot breath grazing your perky nipple.

"You're not sorry," you pull him closer, fingers threading through his hair.

"Yeah, I'm not."

Makki's tongue is divine against your skin. He sucks on your tits with fervor, at first tries to tease, but quickly forgets himself, encouraged by your breathy moans and nails scratching his scalp. He's soon answering the rhythm of your hips too, the front of his jeans bulging, surely tight for his hardening cock. It takes you a few tries in the confines of his hold, but you finally open his belt and zipper and help him out of his briefs.

He groans in relief but doesn't stop sucking, just bucks into your hand when you give him the first, testing stroke. You follow the wordless request, build up a decent rhythm for him even if he doesn't make it easy for you with the work of his lips and fingers. Holding you firm with one arm, he reaches between your legs and returns the favor, fingers toying with your slit.

"So wet for me already?" He tries to tease, his voice on the verge of a needy moan under the relentless ministrations of your hand. His eyes roll into the back of his head as you swipe your thumb against his sensitive tip. "Fuck, that's right... Right here, baby."

You love the way it rolls off his tongue, this casual, endearing pet name he's sometimes used before just to fuck around with you. It's sweet and desperate, drenched with need as he's rutting into your palm, for a split moment forgetting about you and mumbling it again into your breasts once catching himself on being sloppy.

You're honestly no better, losing your mind whenever his fingers toy with your entrance. You want him inside, so badly it tears you apart, but you know you're going to forget yourself as soon as you get what you want. His cock pulsing in your hand doesn't make it easy for you, it's like a torture at this point, torture you want to—have to—endure for him. One finger in, two, three—you clench your teeth and squeeze him tighter in your hand, on the verge of begging him to ruin you, fighting against it, soaking in immense pleasure of having your slick walls caressed exactly how you need it.

"Not gonna— Fuck, last long if you—" Hanamaki peels himself off your chest, puts everything he still has in him into pushing his high away. "Lemme— Lemme take care of you first."

He guides you to lean against him, hands against his chest, hips angled to reach your sweet spot better. Focused on self-control, you missed how he's been relentlessly looking for it, testing, observing, attentive despite his own need trying to take over.

"T-there..." You help him as much as your trembling thighs let you, arching your ass into his hand. "Don't stop now."

"I won't."

Toes curling and pleasure turning your body into spasm, you almost lose the perfect balance at the crucial moment. But Makki is there for you, holding you close and right, helping you ride your high until the last delicious second. You slump against him, blessed, exhausted but nowhere close to being full; you mewl with protest when he pulls out of you.

Makki cocks an eyebrow, surprised and hopeful at the same time, "Do you still wanna—"

You glance down at this dick, beads of precum glistening at its tip, and put the last ounce of power left in you into lifting your hips once again. He mutters something about lack of protection, neither of you listen, sanity all gone with a single swipe between your folds.

"Gonna be slow—" You can see in his eyes how much it costs him, to be mindful of your weakened, overstimulated state instead of throwing you on your back and fucking you stupid. You would take it, you would take everything, but his restraint tastes the best now.

He keeps his word, filling up inch by inch, holding you to ease strain for your trembling knees. Before your head falls into the crook of his neck, you catch a glimpse of his expression, blissed out from the simple pleasure of your wet pussy squeezing him tight. He whispers your name like a prayer, cradling you close and fully impaled on him, savoring the moment before you force your bodies to move again.

You start first but you can bounce on it only a few times before he has to take over, holding your hips for you. He stays true to his promise; even when his arms start giving up and his upward thrusts grow sloppy, he stays gentle and sweet—as much as a man drunk of you can when chasing his high.

There's no rhythm to it, more than anything you just sway together, but just being full of him is enough. Thighs flush to him, you soak into him, chest to chest, your face in the crook of his neck, his breath heavy and moist in your ear. He throbs deep in you, close to release since the moment he's sunk into you, but stubborn to endure a little more, for another thrust, for another frantic budging of your hips, for another twitch of your pussy around him. He struggles to praise you for it too, his voice dying on him whenever he tries though, leaving him with just a string of groans and pieces of your name in between, over and over again.

He's trying to say it one more time when it finally hits him. His arms tremble and he sinks you onto his cock one more time, spilling his seed deep inside. You hold him through it, nails digging into his shoulders through the t-shirt, almost crying in your own overstimulation.

Hanamaki wraps himself around you as well, soaking into your dry sobs, one hand soothingly petting the small of your back.

"You did so well, baby," he rasps into your ear, kissing the trail of sweat next to it.

You did so well—like back in high school when you broke your dominant arm and struggled to take notes with the other. When you got drunk for the first time and he held your hair as you were leaning over the toilet. When you broke and cried after a hard exam in your first year. When you finally got rid of your horrible ex.

He's praised you so many times before. But none sounded as sweet as the one now, in his embrace, breathing in air full of his scent, sharing the warmth of your sweaty bodies.

Still connected, you lean together to the side and collapse into the couch. It's uncomfortable, especially for Makki and his long limbs, but you both have reached your limit, and even a risk of being eventually caught by your roommate doesn't prompt you to move.

"You were right, should have carried you to the bedroom," Hanamaki sighs heavily against your neck and cradles you closer, as away from the edge as you both can fit.

"I'm always right," you chirp with confidence and prompt yourself for a pinch or nudge you would get in return, but he just laughs and guides your head to rest in his palm.

"Let's leave regrets and consequences for tomorrow." He says after a moment of silence, long enough for you to think he's dozed off. His lips are pressed close to your skin, his voice barely audible. "I don't wanna think of anything else other than you finally in my arms."

#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hanamaki x reader #hanamaki takahiro x reader #bas writes #haikyuu #female reader

23 notes · View notes