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rafecameronssl4t · 2 days ago

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The Swell || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: S4 ep 4 scene but it’s Sofia’s perspective + abit more angst but still reader x Rafe no use of her name

Warnings: angst!!!!! Mention of dead baby turtles (?), Ruthie (yeh she deserves her own tw),

Word counts: 2,267

A/n: how could I not post on our my man’s bday 😣😔

MASTERLIST

Divider by @h-aewo

As you drive down the beach, the Pogues come into view, their carefree laughter and familiar presence tightening the knot of unease in your stomach. You glance at Rafe, silently hoping the car won’t stop near them, your thoughts spinning in quiet desperation. But when Topper's Jeep slows down and pulls to a halt right next to them, you shut your eyes for a brief moment, taking a sharp breath through your nose to steady yourself.

Rafe, ever attuned to your mood, notices the shift and squeezes your thigh, his touch firm and reassuring. “It’s fine,” he mutters, his voice low and confident, though the tension remains. You look down at his hand resting on your leg, a gesture that says more than words ever could. Rafe helps you down from Topper’s ridiculously raised Jeep, his grip steady as you hop down onto the sand.

The sun beats down, casting long shadows as you take in the scene around you—Topper and John B already in conversation, their words tinged with the familiar undercurrent of rivalry. The air feels thick, charged with a subtle tension that lingers in every glance exchanged between them.

You go through the motions, helping set up blankets and gear, though your attention keeps drifting back to Rafe. He’s sitting a few feet away, legs stretched out in front of him, gaze fixed on the surfers gliding across the water. His sunglasses hide most of his expression, but you can tell he’s watching intently, his mind elsewhere.

When you finally make your way over, he turns his head slightly, reaching for a towel and placing it beside him without a word. You settle down next to him, the sand beneath the towel still warm from the sun, and you let out a small sigh. "Hey, Rafe," you say softly, your voice almost drowned out by the sound of the waves crashing in the distance.

Your gaze shifts to Sarah, longboard in hand as she walks out of the water, her eyes locked on her brother. A light smile tugs at your lips as you watch her, the hope in you flickering. "There’s Sarah," you continue, trying to sound upbeat. "Do you think she’d want to talk?" Rafe doesn’t respond right away. His eyes stay focused on the horizon, his expression unreadable.

After a beat, he finally looks towards Sarah, their eyes meeting across the sand. The moment stretches out, thick with everything they’re not saying. "No," Rafe says flatly, shaking his head. "She can come to me if she wants." His voice lacks emotion, as if he’s already resigned to the distance between them. He lifts his beer, taking a slow drink, his nonchalance masking something deeper. You nod in response, sighing softly.

You tried, but it’s not enough. It never seems to be enough. The next few minutes pass in quiet observation. You watch the surfers, your gaze following JJ and Topper as they glide across the water, their competitive nature apparent even in something as simple as catching a wave. JJ, always the wild card, edges too close to Topper and bumps him, sending Topper tumbling into the surf.

Rafe shifts beside you, sitting up a little straighter. "Hey! Blatant poach, man!" he calls out, his voice carrying over the beach, and you can’t help but smile. There’s something almost boyish in the way he yells, a rare glimpse of lightness in an otherwise heavy day. Your momentary smile fades when Ruthie’s piercing voice cuts through the air.

"What the hell was that?!" she shouts, her tone laced with irritation. You roll your eyes instinctively, already feeling the familiar annoyance settle in. Ruthie. She’s always been a thorn in your side, and she knows it. She thrives on it, always pushing just enough to get under your skin, but never enough to cross any real lines—at least not with Rafe around. She wasn’t stupid—she knew better than to challenge his authority, even though she could get away with nearly everything else.

JJ, still in the water, celebrates his small victory with a cocky grin, looking over at you both. Rafe’s response is swift, flipping him the middle finger without even blinking. JJ shrugs it off, giving a sheepish smile, and you laugh softly, shaking your head at the playful exchange. "I don’t know what JJ’s deal was," Kelce chimes in as he and Topper make their way back to the shade.

"That was bullshit, jumping in on you like that." His tone is casual, but there’s a slight edge to it, the kind that always lingers when someone feels disrespected. "Classic low-rent move," Topper agrees, brushing sand from his hair. Rafe’s snarky grin returns as he helps you up from the sand. "Surf violence is violence, man," he comments dryly, earning a chuckle from the group. But before the mood can lighten, the unmistakable sound of an engine revving catches your attention.

You glance over, spotting Ruthie now in the driver’s seat of Topper’s Jeep, her expression smug as she glances towards the Pogues. "Instead of whining about it," Ruthie cocks her head in their direction, a dangerous gleam in her eyes, "let’s drift. Give them a taste of their own medicine." Topper immediately shakes his head. "No, no. We’re not doing that," he says, his voice firm but calm. For all his bravado, Topper is often the most level-headed among them, the one willing to walk away from unnecessary drama.

You breathe out a quiet sigh of relief, hoping the situation will diffuse. Ruthie, however, isn’t backing down. "Are you afraid?" she taunts, her tone condescending as she stares him down, tilting her head with a smirk. "I told them we’re gonna be cool," Topper says, shooting a glance at Kelce, as if looking for backup. "Yeah, but they jumped in on you, bro," Kelce replies, still riled up from the earlier incident. "They stomped all over our home base."

"Never knew you kooks owned the beach," you mutter under your breath, loud enough for Rafe to hear. He chuckles softly, glancing at you with an amused look. Ruthie, undeterred, turns her attention back to Kelce, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "That doesn’t seem fair, does it? Are you cool with that, Kelce? It’s kind of sad, bro." "Pathetic," Ruthie adds, and a few others let out chuckles, their laughter only adding fuel to the tension.

Topper’s face tightens, his expression darkening as the tension between him and Ruthie reaches its peak. "What’d you say?" he snaps, his tone sharp with frustration, eyes narrowing at her. He’s clearly fed up with her antics, embarrassed as she goads him in front of their friends. The heated argument escalates quickly, Ruthie's biting comments cutting through the air like knives. Topper, red-faced and tense, tries to rein her in, but Ruthie only digs in further, her smirk never fading.

You lean into Rafe, resting your head against his broad back, arms loosely wrapped around his torso for comfort as you watch the scene unfold. It was horrifying but impossible to look away from. Ruthie, always the instigator, keeps pushing, her voice rising above the murmur of waves and laughter. She’s relentless, her eyes gleaming with reckless energy.

"Well, I’m about to buzz down there and show them whose beach this is," she declares, the wild determination in her tone sending a ripple of unease through the group. "You gonna make me go by myself?" You lift your head, casting a glance at Rafe, silently asking him to do something, anything. His eyes flicker with annoyance, but he doesn’t intervene, his usual detached demeanour firmly in place.

Topper, as much as he tries to keep some semblance of control, eventually gives in, rounding the Jeep and sliding into the passenger seat with a defeated huff. The sound of the engine revving cuts through the beach as they prepare for another display of immaturity. "This is ridiculous," you mutter under your breath, crossing your arms over your chest as you watch them speed off. Sand flies up behind the tires, scattering across the shoreline.

Rafe shrugs beside you, seemingly unbothered, his voice calm but clipped. "She’s just being Ruthie." "That’s not an excuse," you retort, sharper than you intended. "Is she fucking insane?" Your words are laced with disbelief as you scoff, eyes narrowing as the Jeep swerves wildly down the beach. Ruthie, clearly drunk on adrenaline, comes dangerously close to losing control.

You hold your breath as she veers sharply, missing the Pogues by mere inches. Your heart races in your chest, the tension in the air palpable. Rafe watches in silence, tipping his head back and taking a long swig from his beer, the bottle tilted lazily in his hand as if none of it phases him. You, on the other hand, can’t tear your eyes away from the scene. "Jesus Christ…" you mutter under your breath, jaw slack in shock. Suddenly, a splash of liquid flies through the air, dousing Kiara.

You watch as she recoils, visibly shocked and angry, while the Pogues gather around her, already shouting in response. The kooks around you jeer and laugh, their obnoxious behaviour only adding fuel to the fire. You roll your eyes, disgusted by the immaturity that surrounds you. How could they find this funny? Your gaze shifts back to Rafe, searching his face for any hint of how he’s feeling, but his expression remains unreadable.

His jaw tightens ever so slightly as he scratches his head, eyes flicking back and forth between the Jeep and the chaos Ruthie has left in her wake. Frustration bubbles in your chest — was he angry? Amused? He was impossible to read, and that drove you mad. You couldn’t stand his indifference, not when things had spiraled out of control. "You good with that?" you ask, trying to keep your voice steady, but the irritation seeps through as you turn to face him, arms crossed tightly over your chest.

He doesn't respond immediately, which only adds fuel to the fire. His silence grates on you. Then, after Kiara and JJ confront Ruthie and she threatens to press charges over some meaningless provocation, your patience wears thin. You’ve had enough of the childish antics, the toxic energy swirling around the beach. It was exhausting, and you wanted nothing more than to leave.

"Not cool, Rafe," you say, your voice wavering with disappointment. There’s an ache in your chest, a familiar one that resurfaces whenever you feel let down by him. You want him to see how wrong all of this is, but instead, he shrugs and brushes past you, his focus only on grabbing another beer. His casual indifference feels like a slap in the face. "They deserved it, baby," he mutters as he opens the cooler.

His words make your blood boil. Deserved it? You can’t believe him. It’s like the two of you are on completely different wavelengths, and the divide between you feels wider than ever. Spinning around, you glare at him, anger and hurt flooding your system. "I want to leave," you say, voice firm, holding his gaze as he turns to look at you, his eyes narrowing in challenge.

"Now!" you insist, your frustration bubbling over, leaving no room for negotiation. You’re done with the day, with the drama, with everything. Without waiting for his response, you turn on your heel and start walking away, the sound of the waves crashing behind you drowned out by the pounding in your chest. You can feel his eyes on your back, the tension hanging thick in the air, but you don’t stop.

“Babe, hold on,” Rafe calls after you, his voice almost pleading, but you don’t slow down. You grab your beach bag, throwing it over your shoulder with more force than necessary, eyes fixed ahead. You refuse to let him see how upset you really are, not in front of Ruthie and Topper. Especially not when Ruthie’s wearing that smug smile, clearly enjoying the chaos she’s stirred up.

Your jaw clenches as you storm past them, feeling the weight of their judgment. Rafe’s footsteps grow louder behind you, his longer stride quickly closing the distance. "Just calm down," he mutters as he reaches out, his hand catching your elbow in an attempt to stop you. The touch is gentle, but it ignites the anger bubbling beneath the surface, and you immediately yank your arm away, shoving his hand off with a sharp motion.

He steps in front of you, blocking your path, his brows furrowing as he tries to read your expression. "That wasn’t fair, Rafe," you say quietly, your voice cutting through the space between you both. The frustration, disappointment, and anger you’ve been holding in all day spill over. "You saw what Ruthie did! How can you just stand there and act like it’s fine?" Your words come out sharper than you intended, but you’re past caring.

You need him to understand, to see how wrong it all is. Rafe’s lips press into a thin line, his gaze shifting momentarily to the ground before meeting yours again. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes—guilt, maybe—but it’s quickly replaced by defensiveness. "She’s Topper’s girlfriend," he snaps, his voice low and tight. "What do you want me to do? I can’t control what she does or doesn’t do."

You let out a bitter laugh, stepping back and shaking your head in disbelief. "So what? You’d rather watch her humiliate people instead? Watch her throw stuff at Kie like a child? Drive over those baby turtles?" Your voice rises, sharp and raw. "That’s what you’re okay with?" His jaw tightens as he scratches his head, avoiding your gaze. "It wasn’t that big of a deal," he mutters, but there’s something in the way he says it—a hint of guilt that he’s trying to bury under his indifference.

"Not that big of a deal?" You repeat, your voice thick with disbelief. "You know what she did was wrong, Rafe. I know you do. You just stood there and didn’t do a fucking thing." He sighs, frustrated, running a hand through his hair. "You could’ve stood up for Kie, for anyone. But instead, you just stood there and let Ruthie act like a total psycho, and now you’re defending it?"

Rafe’s face hardens, but you can see the flicker of guilt in his eyes, the way his gaze shifts uncomfortably. He knows. He knows what Ruthie did was messed up, and it infuriates you even more that he won’t admit it, that he’s hiding behind the excuse of not wanting to cause drama with Topper. "It wasn’t worth starting a fight over," he says, his voice tight, as if he’s trying to convince himself more than you.

You throw your hands up, exasperated. "It’s not about starting a fight! It’s about doing the right thing! You just stood there, Rafe. You watched it happen, and you knew it was wrong, and you still did nothing!" His eyes flash with irritation, but underneath it, you can see the guilt he’s trying to bury. "Why are you making this about me?" he snaps, his voice defensive. "I didn’t tell her to do anything. It’s not my fault."

"No, but you watched it happen, and that’s just as bad!" Your voice cracks slightly, the frustration and hurt blending together. "You know Ruthie crossed a line. If it had been anyone else, you wouldn’t have let it slide, but because it’s her, and because it’s Topper, you’re acting like it’s no big deal." Rafe clenches his jaw, his frustration evident, but there’s something more in his eyes now—regret, maybe.

He’s not used to being called out like this, not used to being the one who’s wrong. "What do you want me to say?" he mutters, his voice lower, less confident. "It’s not like I could’ve stopped her." Your heart races, and you shoot back, your voice steady but laced with heat. "You chose to stay silent, and that says more than any half-hearted excuse you could come up with. It's pathetic!”

As you confront him, he steps closer, a tangible tension crackling between you. His voice turns low and icy. "Watch it." The warning hangs in the air, but you refuse to back down. He exhales sharply, running both hands through his hair, a gesture of agitation that betrays the storm of emotions brewing inside him. "I don't want to fight with you over something like this," he insists, the frustration lacing his tone, making it tremble with barely contained irritation.

"It’s not worth it." You stare at him, incredulous, your heart racing as the anger you felt moments ago begins to dissolve, replaced by a deeper, simmering disappointment that settles heavily in your chest. It’s a familiar ache, one that stirs memories of past arguments where the same sentiments echoed in different words. "Not worth it?" you echo, your voice soft but laced with hurt. Your words hang in the air, and for a moment, you search his eyes, hoping to find a flicker of understanding.

But he doesn’t respond, his gaze dropping to the sand beneath his feet, as if the grains can offer him some comfort. You see a flicker of doubt cross his features, and for an instant, you think he might actually admit it—might actually acknowledge the truth you’ve laid bare. But instead, he shrugs, a small, helpless gesture that only deepens the ache in your chest. It’s as if he’s trying to dismiss the weight of the situation, but it only leaves you feeling more isolated.

"That’s all you can say?" you press, hurt and disappointment lacing your tone again. "I don’t know what you want from me." "I want you to care," you say, your voice quieter now, the fight slowly draining out of you. "I want you to care enough to stand up for what’s right, not just for what’s easy. But I guess that’s too much to ask."

Rafe’s face flickers, something like guilt or frustration passing over his features, but he doesn’t say anything. He just stares at you, jaw clenched, the space between you filled with everything he won’t say. You shake your head, the disappointment settling in like a weight in your chest

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etheraltides · 3 days ago

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BENEATH THE NOISE ᯓᡣ𐭩

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x College!Reader

Summarize: It’s hard to deal with deception when you’ve given your best. Luckily, Rafe knows how to get to you.

Warning(s): self depreciation, a hint of anxiety.

A/N: Thank you so much for all the love in my works <3

The grade wasn’t supposed to define you. That’s what everyone says: “It’s just a number, not a measure of your worth.” But as you sit staring at the email on your screen, the words blur, letters and numbers melting together until you can only feel one thing: failure.

The exam’s grade - the one you poured sleepless nights, early mornings, and everything in between into – sits there in stark black and white, unchangeable, final. You can’t look away, even as the panic bubbles into shame and then into the familiar, relentless self-criticism. Even as the salty tears begin to blurry your vision.

“How could I have been so stupid?” you think, teeth pressing into your lower lip. “All those hours… wasted. What’s the point if this is the result?” The thoughts spiral faster, slipping away from you. “Maybe I’m not cut out for this. Maybe I’m just fooling myself. Everyone else makes it look so easy.”

With a shaky breath, you shut your laptop and curl up on your bed, tugging the blanket over yourself as if it could shield you from the whirlwind in your mind, from the world and those mocking numbers. You feel your phone buzz, but you ignore it. Then it buzzes again, and again. It’s Rafe, no doubt, checking in, but you can’t bring yourself to reply. You’re not in the mood for talking and pretending to be fine, or worse – the pity you know will be laced into his voice if he finds out how badly you did.

But Rafe isn’t one to be easily put off. He leaves message after message, each one laced with growing concern and slight irritation.

“Hey, baby. Just checking in. How’d the test go?”

A minute later, “Everything okay? Call me when you get this. You’re working me, baby.”

Another text, his humor slipping through: “I’m gonna assume you’re just taking a nap and ignoring the world like you usually do when you’re stressed.”

And then, finally, a call. You glance at the screen, seeing his name flash, but even though part of you aches to hear his voice, you can’t bring yourself to answer. Instead, you turn off the phone entirely, sinking further into the blanket cocoon, feeling more alone and defeated with every minute that ticks by.

Rafe spends the better part of an hour trying to reach you. First, it’s gentle check-ins, then some light teasing, then a note of worry threading through his texts. When all his messages stay stuck on “delivered” with no response, he throws on a jacket, grabs his car keys, and heads out the door. He’s had enough off of it.

The drive is a blur, his hands gripping the steering wheel as he runs through what he’ll say to you when he gets there. He’d scold you for being a brat and making him worry when all you had to do was type some goddamn words on your phone. It wasn’t so hard. He didn’t even want to think about the possibility of something actually happening to you.

By the time he arrives at your place, it’s late enough that the lights outside are dim, casting long shadows across the driveway. He knocks once, twice in your bedroom’s door once your mom lets him in.

“She’s been there for hours.” Your mom sighs, looking up at the stairs as she puts your untouched plate of dinner in the refrigerator. “The results of her exam came in and well… You know how hard she can be with herself.”

Rafe rubs hand on his neck, he had completely forgot that the result would be today and he knew how hard you’ve been studying.

He knocks on your door once and when there’s no answer, he gently turns the knob, letting himself in.

It’s quiet inside, save for the faint sound of your breathing as he steps into your room. He sees you there, huddled under the blankets, your back to the door, your shoulders slightly shaking. His heart clenches in pain and worry as you look so small hiding in the many blankets. Wordlessly, Rafe slips off his shoes, walking over to your bed. Without a word, he lifts the edge of the blanket and slides in beside you, his warmth immediately seeping through the layers of fabric that separate you.

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, letting his presence speak for itself. Slowly, he wraps an arm around you, pulling you into his chest. You stiffen at first, your pride fighting the comfort he’s offering, but then the dam breaks, and you lean into him, hiding your face in his shoulder.

He strokes your hair gently, his voice a soft murmur. “I’m here. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.” He presses a light kiss to the top of your head, letting the silence settle for a few moments longer before he speaks again.

“Want me to talk to your professor?” he murmurs, a playful edge creeping into his tone. “Because I could pay a visit, you know… straighten him out, remind him that no one messes with my girl.” He squeezes you a little tighter. “Just say the word.”

You can’t help the small, broken laugh that escapes you, muffled by his shirt. You know he’s kidding – or at least, half-kidding – but there’s a part of you that believes he might actually show up at your professor’s office if you asked him to. That thought alone lightens the weight on your chest, even if just a little.

“You don’t need to go after my professor, Rafe,” you mumble, a hint of sarcasm breaking through the sadness. “Even though… I wouldn’t mind seeing the look on his face if you did, it wasn’t his fault.”

Rafe chuckles softly, squeezing your shoulder. “If you change your mind, I’ve got my car gassed up and ready.”

The laugh fades, and you fall silent again, the weight of the failure still pressing down on you. After a few moments, you pull back slightly, looking up at him. “Rafe… what if I’m just not good enough? What if I’ve been trying so hard for nothing?”

You wrap your arms around his torso, fingers absently tracing random shapes on his t-shirt as the words left your trembling lips. “Maybe I should just quit it. Spare myself all the deception.”

He keeps his hold on you, his voice staying low and gentle. “Baby, you’re one of the smartest people I know. This grade? It doesn’t change that. Not even a little.”

You start to protest, but he shushes you, brushing a thumb across your cheek. “No, I’m serious. You’re so hard on yourself, and I get it. But you need to remember that one test doesn’t undo everything you are, everything you’ve done. It’s just one small thing in a million great things about you.”

The words come out softly and so certain, almost like a confession, and you see the shift in his expression as he meets your gaze. He lifts a hand, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his eyes soft and steady. “Then you try again, and again, if you have to. But you’re anything but ‘not good enough.’ You’re brilliant, and hard-working, and stubborn as hell. I’ve seen you tackle way harder stuff than this.”

You shake your head, unable to accept the kindness in his voice. “But I… I feel so dumb, Rafe. Like all this effort is just… wasted. Like I’m not cut out for this.”

Rafe’s expression softens even more, and he tilts your chin up, making sure you’re looking into his eyes. “Baby, listen to me. One test, one mistake – none of that changes who you are or what you’re capable of. You’re allowed to be human, to mess up sometimes. It doesn’t make you any less amazing, okay?”

His words linger, breaking down the wall you’ve built around your pride and pain. For the first time since you got the grade, you start to believe that maybe, just maybe, he’s right. You were being too harsh in yourself.

“Thank you,” you whisper, your voice barely audible as you place a kiss to his cheek.

“Always,” he replies, giving you a small, reassuring smile. “Now, let’s stay here as long as you need, but when you’re ready, we’ll go grab some terrible takeout, or watch that show you like. Whatever you want. But for now… just let me hold you.”

You nod, settling against him, the rise and fall of his chest calming the storm in your mind. And as you lie there, surrounded by his warmth and steady heartbeat, the self-criticism starts to soften, the harsh thoughts fading, leaving only the quiet reassurance that you’ll be okay.

As you lie curled up against him, letting his warmth seep into you, Rafe’s hand gently runs along your back in soothing circles. You can feel the steady beat of his heart, grounding you, pulling you away from the spiral of self-doubt. After a long silence, you finally lift your head, your face inches from his as you meet his gaze. There’s no judgment in his eyes, just quiet understanding, and something even softer.

Slowly, he reaches up, brushing a thumb across your cheek, and you feel yourself lean into his touch. His eyes flicker down to your lips, and after a beat, he leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s soft, gentle, like he’s pouring all his reassurance into you without a single word. His fingers slip to the back of your neck, his hold gentle but certain, as if anchoring you to the moment, grounding you in his presence and pulling you away from the loud thoughts in your mind.

He pulls back just slightly, his forehead resting against yours, and you feel his breath, warm and steady. “I’m here,” he whispers, his voice barely more than a murmur. “No grade, no test can change that. You’re more than enough, and I’m not going anywhere.” His thumb grazes your cheek again, his eyes filled with warmth and conviction, and in that moment, the weight on your heart feels a little lighter, the storm in your mind a little quieter.

#rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron oneshot #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron x you

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mind-intheclouds342 · 3 days ago

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Do it for them - Co-captain reader x Curly

Previous - Part 9 - Next

You banged on the door of the room where that man was locked up, waking him up abruptly.

"Let's talk"

Jimmy: "I thought visiting hours were over."

He complained, turning around to turn his back to the door.

"Don't try to be funny with me, Jimmy. What the hell did we do to deserve so much hate from you?"

Jimmy: "Don't play innocent, you know very well what you did!"

"Honestly, I have no idea! That's why I'm asking you!"

Jimmy: "Of course, because I was always the shadow of your dear husband. You never turned to look at me again after you got with him, you never smiled at me like you did with him, you didn't even speak to me. It was as if I were invisible to you!"

"Oh, of course I was looking at you!"

Jimmy: "Then why didn't you ever tell me anything?!"

He shouted that, getting up from his bed to head towards the glass that separated them, watching your face to see you when you replied.

"BECAUSE I'VE ALWAYS HATED YOU!"

You screamed with all your lungs, to the point of making your throat hurt.

"You always brought trouble to Curly! He was always so naive, a sucker for approval, of being the good guy in the story, of not letting anyone down! That's why he never abandoned you! I knew better that's why i stopped talking with you! Because you were and are a piece of shit!"

Jimmy: "Oh, but you talk as if I were the only fucked up one in the story."

"Yes! I admit it! I was also a mess when I met Curly, but I did something, I was able to see beyond that mess I was, he showed me that I could improve, he gave me opportunities that I knew how to take advantage of and become a better person! In someone who could make his mother proud instead of making her cry because she didn't know if he was coming home or not!"

There was a silence when you finished saying that, until you saw him smirk, that reaction you didn't like at all.

Jimmy: "You're right, Curly loves to please, you should know that very well."

"Ugh, for the love of God, I don't know why I try to reason with you, it's impossible."

Jimmy: "But you were the only one who refused to give in to make me happy."

You opened your eyes wide upon hearing that, turning again to the man who still wore that smug smile.

Jimmy: "Just as beautiful and messed up as I am, I thought you would understand me, but then you became a good girl, yet I still hoped you would look at me..."

"Shut up-"

Jimmy: "Oh, and the damn way Curly talked about you, how incredible you are, so kind, hardworking, so beautiful."

"I tell you to shut up-"

Jimmy: "Those lovely moles in the center of your chest that look like a constellation"

"He wouldn't talk about those things with you!"

Jimmy: "I saw it myself"

You felt like you were going to puke at that moment, you didn't want to believe that he had really done something like that to you while you were unconscious, you didn't want your suspicions to be confirmed, you refused to believe it.

"Liar. Anya wouldn't leave me alone, she would lock the nursery door-"

Jimmy: "Yes, yes, she did that, it was a pain in the ass. Every night when she went to sleep, she locked the nursery with that code that only Curly and she knew... But that place wasn't closed while someone was inside."

"She wouldn't let you get close to me!"

Jimmy: "They were so sweet, Anya staying by your side saying she had to make sure all your signs were okay, and when she left, she would ask Swansea if he could keep an eye on you. But he was so depressed that he didn't dare to stay with you for long, so... I took his place to make sure you were okay."

"In front of Curly..."

You murmured at having to imagine the scene your husband had to witness without being able to do anything about it other than watch.

Jimmy: "That was the funniest thing"

You hugged tightly, feeling a horrible tingling all over your body, as if you were dirty.

Jimmy: "Swansea had no idea about anything, Anya didn't want to talk about it with anyone else. Thanks to her silence, I was able to finally look at that body that you always hide from me, thanks to Swansea's stupidity and feeling sad for his little captain, feeling all guilty and shit."

Swansea: "What did he just say..."

You turned to see Swansea at the end of the hallway, carrying Jimmy's rations, holding an axe firmly in the other hand; he had managed to hear everything.

"Swansea-"

Swansea: "Open the door, captain"

"Listen - it's not worth it, do you have any idea what they'll do to you if they find out you hurt someone from the crew? Please, I don't want them to lock you up."

You said immediately, positioning yourself in front of him, trying to get him to see you, but his eyes were glued to the door where he could see Jimmy's face.

Swansea: "How are they going to know? Let's say it was an accident. Open the door!"

You wanted to keep reasoning with him, but you couldn't deny that you also wished he would face consequences for his actions.

You took the axe from his hands, making him look at you annoyed.

"I won't take the risk of you killing him."

Those were your last words before opening the door, Swansea didn't take much more than a few seconds to fully open the door, step inside, and throw himself at Jimmy.

You could hear the sound of the blows, the insults, and the screams.

You stood at the door wide open, axe in hand, watching as the blood spread across the floor with each blow Swansea dealt.

You watched Jimmy and tilted your head, waiting for him to defend himself.

You wouldn't hesitate to cut off his hands if he touched Swansea.

#mouthwash #mouthwashing #mouthwashing game #mouthwashing x reader #anya mouthwashing #jimmy mouthwashing #curly mouthwashing #daisuke mouthwashing #swansea mouthwashing #captain curly #do it for them mouthwashing #captain curly x reader #mouthwashing curly

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theuntoldstorythatneedsawriter · 2 days ago

Text

Gift 🎁

Leah Williamson x reader

warning : fluffy 💭💗

Leah Williamson was on a mission—a gift mission, to be exact. With your birthday just a week away, she was determined to find something that was absolutely perfect, a gift that would make you smile in a way only she could. But finding the perfect gift? It was turning out to be a lot harder than she’d expected.

Leah had already scoured the high street, the little boutiques you loved, and even asked some of the other Arsenal girls for advice. Kim had suggested a designer handbag, but Leah dismissed it with a quick, "She already has a bunch, and besides, that's too generic." Katie had recommended a custom jersey signed by the team, but Leah just shook her head—she wanted it to be special, something unique and personal.

She had even been at it online, scrolling through websites, adding things to her cart only to delete them a moment later. It had to be perfect because you deserved nothing less.

The team could tell she was on edge. They’d never seen her so particular about something before. "Just get her something nice; she’ll love whatever you pick," Viv teased, watching Leah put down yet another promising option with a determined look on her face.

"But it’s not about her just liking it, Viv," Leah insisted, a hint of frustration creeping in. "It’s gotta be… special, you know? I want her to feel like I put thought into this. She makes me feel special all the time, and I just want to return the favor."

Caitlin nudged her with a knowing smile. "You’re such a softie, Leah. Just go with your heart. Maybe do something personal, like a scrapbook of memories?"

The idea sparked something in Leah’s mind. Memories. She suddenly realized maybe it wasn’t about finding the perfect gift on a store shelf. It was about creating it.

That night, Leah stayed up, gathering photos, mementos, and little notes she’d written over the time you’d been together. Each picture she placed carefully into a scrapbook, writing little notes on the margins—memories of trips you’d taken together, jokes only the two of you would understand, and random, sweet reminders of how much she loved you.

The final touch? Leah got a necklace, a simple silver piece she knew would suit you. She attached it to the last page of the scrapbook with a note: *For my favorite memories and the ones we’ll still make. Happy Birthday, love.*

When she finally handed you the gift on your birthday, she was nervous, fidgeting as you opened it. But the look on your face when you saw the scrapbook, flipping through page by page, laughing and tearing up, told her everything she needed to know.

Leah knew then she’d finally gotten it right.

#woso x reader #arsenal x reader #arsenal wfc #arsenal women #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson

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aventurineswife · 3 days ago

Note

Could I request Argenti, Aventurine and whoever else you'd like reacting to their lover baking a cake or cupcakes with an encouraging message written on it for them?

“You're doing a good job, love!”

Synopsis: Baking a cake or cupcakes with an encouraging message to cheer up your beloved.

Tags: Argenti x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Feixiao x Reader, Firefly x Reader, Established Relationship, Romance, Fluff, Affection, Heartwarming, Encouragement, Vulnerability, Connection, Acts of Service!Reader.

Argenti

As Argenti stepped into the room, the scent of fresh-baked sweetness filled the air. His gaze softened when he spotted a cake with the words, “For my knight—may beauty guide you always.” delicately written across the icing. His hand moved instinctively to his chest, his heart warmed by the simple, heartfelt gesture.

“My love, this… this is as pure as a dawn’s first light,” he murmured, his voice imbued with reverence. He held your hand gently, guiding it to his lips. "To bring me such joy—truly, you grace my journey with beauty more precious than any star. You have my deepest thanks."

With a fond smile, he took a careful slice, savoring each bite as though it were a sacred gift. The words stayed with him, uplifting his spirit, a beacon he would carry forth in his duty.

Aventurine

Aventurine’s eyes widened as he took in the sight of the cupcakes arranged in a playful arc, each one bearing a word that spelled out, “Bet on yourself, love.” He let out a chuckle, his eyes gleaming with delight.

“You’re always one step ahead,” he said, a smirk tugging at his lips as he leaned close. “It’s almost as if you know how I feel after every gamble.” He plucked a cupcake and took a slow, thoughtful bite. “Absolutely delicious—and even better with you here.” he said, pulling you closer with a grin.

In that moment, he felt your care was like a lucky charm, a grounding reminder amidst his high-stakes world that he didn’t always have to go it alone.

Feixiao

Feixiao looked at the cake with mild surprise, taking in the phrase, “Fight for your dreams!” written in bold, steady strokes. She chuckled, a rough but appreciative sound, as her gaze softened.

“Straightforward and inspiring. Just like you.” She tore off a piece, savoring it as she looked at you with rare gentleness. “You know, every bite of this… it’s like a little extra strength for my battles.” Her hand brushed your shoulder in an uncharacteristic show of affection.

As she finished her slice, she placed a reassuring hand over yours, her fierce eyes glowing with determination. “Thank you. I’ll make you proud—and myself too.”

Firefly

Firefly blinked in astonishment at the cake, reading the simple yet heartfelt message: “Live for yourself.” Her lips parted slightly, the words hitting deeper than she expected. Tentatively, she traced the letters, absorbing their warmth.

“You… really think I can do that?” she asked softly, her eyes filling with emotion. She took a small bite, savoring it, a faint smile forming.

“This is more than just a cake,” she whispered, meeting your gaze with a mixture of gratitude and hope. “It’s like a piece of a life I never dared imagine.” With newfound courage, she wrapped her arms around you, grateful to have someone who believed in her beyond the battle.

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sweetbunpura · 2 days ago

Note

Meanwhile Yuu who was kidnapped at RSA

ROUND TWO!

Round one

Everyone's dressed in RSA outfits and the more noticeable members are disguised. They managed to sneak past the gate and make their way to the RSA dorm mirrors. The school's hall of mirrors was stunning, it was styled like an indoor garden with arched doorways leaning to the respective dorms.

"Oh, where we do even start?" Trey asks as he looks at the flower decorated archways.

"Flamme, who did you hear on the phone other than Child of Man?"

"Someone named Phara and Neige." Rollo answered. "And the name Chen'ya was mentioned."

Vil and Malleus' faces changed at the mention of Phara and Neige, meanwhile Riddle and Trey sighed as Chen'ya's name was mentioned.

"So... that narrows it down to 3 dorms-"

"Ah, wait." He interrupted. "I heard a voice with a thick accent as well."

"..." A shadow appeared over Trey's face. "Hatley."

"Oh my!" Rook exclaimed. "That's a face I haven't seen in a while!"

"I forgot that Trey-kun and Hatley don't see eye to eye..." Cater muttered as the Heartslabyul vice headed towards the doorway with a a 1/2 tag sticking out of a teacup was etched on it.

"Wait, Trey!" Riddle followed after him as well as the others. "Heartslabyul with me, you as well Rollo. Everyone else should stay here. We shouldn't make this obvious."

The doors opened automatically, transporting them into a wooded area with hedges that stretched high above into the treeline. Paper Lanterns were wrapped around the trees, illuminating the area and leading a path towards the door. Trey didn't hesitate in following the path, nearly leaving the others to quickly follow after him before they were left behind. Eventually, the woods slip apart and sunlight came through as the courtyard came into view along with a very vertical and massive building in the shape of a top hat

"Everyone," Riddle gained their attention. "This is Daydreamers."

Their dorm building sat on the edge of a cliff as it was sounded by hills and hedges. Trees of multiple shapes and sizes were twisted around one another and thrown about the courtyard and in the center of it was a massive set of tables. There were chairs: large, small, and misshapen. A massive lake sat behind the building as well, with ponds connecting to it.

Students were lazily taking naps nearby, some in hammocks attacked to the trees or on top of the balcony's on the building.

"Holy shit." Ace said in awe as he looked around.

"Ace." Riddle said as he looked at him. "Language."

"Sorry, sorry."

Rollo's eyes moved around the dorm to the various students napping, but he couldn't spot Yuu anywhere.

"I don't see her, perhaps she's inside?"

"I wouldn't just walk in there." Cater spoke. "You got Hatley roaming around and I have no idea where Andy is."

"Then what do you-"

"Oh, oh!" The sound of a voice coming towards them had everyone freezing as they turned their attention to see a fair skinned blond haired boy.

"I'm sorry!" He panted and placed his hands on his knees. "We got caught up and I didn't even welcome our guests!" He raised his head. "I'm Andrew Lovington, but you can call me Andy! I'm the dorm leader of Daydreamers!"

Now it was Riddle's turn to make a face as everyone looked at Andy.

"H-hello." Deuce timidly said.

"I haven't seen you guys around before!" Andy bounced between the NRC students. "Are you guys new-"

"Andy." A new voice, with a think accent, interrupted him. "I got this."

"But, Hatley!" Andy turned to pout as the approaching student. "I should be the one greeting guests!"

"Shoot, and I came all this way to tell ya Rod made brownies-" Hatley brought down his top hat as Andy took off without a second thought. "NRC students? Ya come looking for ya princess?"

Hatley was tall with caramel skin and mysterious gray eyes, he wore a green top hat and had long light brown hair. Trey immediately tensed up and glared at the boy.

"Bigsy."

"That ya Clover?" A smirk finds its way to Hatley's face. "Almost didn't recognize ya without that clover trademark." He poked Trey's marking. "Ya a couple of lost lambs, wandering too far from the flock."

"Where is she?" Deuce squared up, only to be pulled back by Ace.

"Yuu? Ah, Love is around here somewhere." Hatley straightens up and looks over his shoulder. "Chen'ya probably ran off with her."

Rollo tensed up at what he had called Yuu. "What did you say?"

A gray eye moved to stare Rollo down. "Hmm?"

"What did you call her?"

"Love? Whut? Is that a sore spot or sumethin'?" Hatley raised an eyebrow before it dawned on him. "Oh! Ya must be Rolls, huh?"

Cater quickly grabbed Rollo before he could attack a laughing Hatley.

"Calm yaself! Can't take a wee tease, can ya?"

"Hatley, we won't ask again. Where is Yuu?" Riddle gained the vice leader's attention. "We're taking her back home."

Hatley shrugged. "Dunno, Sissel probably took off with her." He rolled his eyes. "But, I'll be nice and throw ya a bone. She might be in Junglehearts." He turned on his heel. "Now off with ya, before ya alert the hoard."

#twisted wonderland #twst fic #Meet Hatley #I love him. he's an asshole #riddle rosehearts #cater diamond #trey clover #ace trappola #deuce spade #rollo flamme #rescue from RSA #rsa oc #twst rsa #thorn answers #twst oc

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kaliforniahigh · 2 days ago

Note

Can I have something angsty,sad,fluffy,(smutty if you want) ?

Reader is on the thicker/chubby side (a few tummy rolls and thick thighs) and she thinks Noah is only with her to say he's been with a fat chick or it's some fetish thing. Reader doesn't understand how he can be attracted to someone like her. Normal 9-5 job, not rich, shitty apartment, shitty car...just getting though life and they met by chance. Maybe he liked that she treated him like a regular person even though she knew who he was, like a "yeah, I know who you are...so what 🙄😐🤷🏼‍♀️" kinda thing.

Not gunna lie the "never been with a big girl" shit has happened way more than I'd like...and honestly, I've been really hating my body lately 😔

Thank you so much for this request! I know it took me a long time to get to it and I'm so sorry about that! I hope you still like it <3

Warnings: reader is a little hard on herself, Noah also feels insecure. Reader is fatphobic towards herself :( Besides that, this is fluff.

WC: 5.9k (this is long and I haven't proofread it yet!)

My requests are currently closed!

Noah was back home in Virginia for a couple of weeks. He really just went because his best friend, Nicholas, had begged him to. There was nothing left for him in this place anymore, and there hasn't been for years.

Even though he had a lot of bitter memories from his time here, he really tried to enjoy the moments he spent with his old friends, reconnecting and telling each other how their lives changed over the years.

Right now, he was at a bonfire, sipping on his beer, despite the chill weather that fall brought along. He looked around and saw many faces he didn't recognize from years ago. To his left, Nicholas was socializing, and he thought about how things haven't changed that much after all. His friend was always better at this than him.

His eyes were fixed on you, like they have been a couple of times during the night. You were hard to miss, with your orange knit sweater and beanie keeping your head warm. He didn't remember seeing you before, if he had, he would surely remember it.

You talked animately with your hands, sporting smile on your face that made your eyes crinkle. If he could describe your aura, it would be warm and inviting, and he felt a pull towards you, suddenly having the urge to come up to you and stike up a conversation.

He held himself back, though, because you seemed very engrossed in the conversation you were having with your friends, and he didn't want to intrude or bother you.

"You're still brooding in the corner?", he was so distracted by you, that he didn't even notice Nicholas approaching him.

"I'm technically not in a corner", Noah pointed to the wall he was leaning against. Nicholas fixed him with a look.

"You should try and talk to a few people, at least this one time", Nicholas sounded like a mom scolding a child and it mildly irritated Noah.

"I will, once I finish this beer", he settled on saying, but deep down, they both knew that Noah would stay in this exact same spot for the rest of the night.

"Whatever, man. I'll talk to Josh over there, he said something about Eric cheating on Alex with their babysitter, and I wanna know all about that. Do you remember Alex from high school?", Noah scrambled his brain, and he could vaguely remember an Alex from high school.

"Is she the one who fell down the bleachers once?", he asked, the memory slowly coming back to him. He should feel bad that this embarrassing moment is what he remembers her by.

"That's exactly the one", Nicholas exclaimed, his hand slapping against Noah's chest. "Apparently her luck didn't get any better. I'll get the scoop and then I'll tell you on the way home", Noah smiled at his friend's antics and watched him walk away.

Averting his gaze back to the gathering happening around him, he found himself watching you again. He really needed to break his habit, otherwise you would think of him as a total creep. His stance and unapproachableness already didn't help him at all. He decided to go look around for something to eat, sure that he saw some snacks around here somewhere.

"He's leaving", your friend said beside you. You had to keep yourself from looking at him. Your friends have been annoying you for the last 15 minutes about the hot guy who apparently couldn't stop looking at you.

"Good, would you stop bothering me now?", you said.

"Y/N, you need to talk to him. Have you seen this man? He is hot and he's totally into you", Charlie said, an exciting tone on her voice.

"And you gathered all that from the few minutes we've been standing here?", you looked at her with a disbelieving look on your face.

"We've been here for at least forty minutes and he hasn't stopped looking at you!", she exclaimed, as if she had it all figured out.

"He could've been looking in the general direction, not at me", you reasoned, trying to forget the way his gaze felt on you. He couldn't have been looking at you out of all people from your group of friends.

"Y/N", Charlie sighed, the excitement vanishing from her features. "You need to stop sabotaging yourself. Why is it so impossible for a man to be interested in you?"

"I don't know, Charlie. I'm gonna go grab another drink, ok?", you did what you always do when someone brought this up in conversation, you left and didn't look back.

Is not that you thought it was impossible for this man to be interested in you, you just thought it was unlikely. You spotted him right when he walked in, his height made him impossible to ignore. And even though he was wearing a hoodie, you saw the tattoos all over his neck and hands, the latter making you incredibly flustered. You never thought you could find someone's hands so attractive.

Meanwhile, you came to this gathering right from work. Your hair was a mess and you had no option but to slap a beanie over it. Your outfit was nothing interesting, just a sweater to keep you warm in the changing weather. Thinking about it now, the color was even a little silly. Who wore orange sweaters?

You arrived at the table where the drinks were set, eyes surveying for something interesting and non-alcoholic, since you drove here. You were so engrossed with whatever was in front of you, that you almost - almost - didn't notice a presence beside you. Like you said, he was hard to miss.

"You, hmm... you need help finding something?" You heard a voice and you knew exactly who was next to you. You looked at him and the first thought that came to your mind was how tall he was compared to you.

He had to look down to meet your eyes and you had to crane your head back to look back at him.

"Oh, I'm just looking for something that's non-alcoholic", you answered him, with a little laugh, knowing that those beverages were hard to find in these places.

"Yeah, it's going to be a little difficult", he said, scratching the back of his neck and looking at the table set in front of you.

"It's ok, I kind of expected it. I'll just go look for dome water", you shrugged your shoulders.

"Wait, I think I saw some stuff in the fridge earlier. Do you want me to get it for you?", he pointed at the house behind the both of you. His eyes were hopeful, like he wanted to do this for you. You thought it was adorable the way he actually wanted you to have something else other than water, and you didn't have the heart to teel him no. So you said yes and saw him walk into the house.

While you waited, Noah was crossing his fingers that his friends had something in the fridge other than booze and stale food. Yes, he lied to you about seeing something in the fridge earlier, but he couldn't let you drink water at a party. He also didn't know where the urge to please you came from, but the words came out of his mouth before he could stop them.

He made his way to the fridge and opened it, and he immediatly spotted a few cans of Red Bull. They were of different colors - probably some tropical flavor - and he hoped you liked energy drinks, otherwise, he would look like a fool in front of the girl he thought was extremely cute.

He grabbed one of them and made his way back to where you were waiting for him.

"Here, I hope you like energy drinks?", he couldn't help but let some nervousness seep into his voice.

"Thank you, and I do", you answered him, and you visibly saw some tension leave his shoulders. "This is actually perfect. I'm so tired because I came right from work. Maybe this will wake me up a little", you said as you cracked the can open.

When he heard you say that, he wanted to pat himself on the back, but settled on giving you a contained smile instead.

"So", he sensed the lull in the conversation, and since he wasn't ready to stop talking to you yet, he decided to change the topic. "Who are you here with?"

"I'm friends with Charlie, she's Josh's fiancee", you answered him. He knew that Josh had gotten engaged in the last few months. Him and Nicholas knew Joah and Charlie from high school, and both of them were surprised it took Josh this long to ask the girl to marry him. Maybe if he was better at keeping contact with his friend, he could've met you way earlier.

"I saw you talking to her earlier", he pointed out and you cursed yourself, because your friends were right. He was watching you. "How did you two meet each other?", he asked and leaned against the table. He refrained from asking you to go inside and sit on the couch.

"We went to college together a few years ago. We were roomates and clicked instantly", you told him and he did the math in his head. You were friends with Charlie for what? Nine or ten years now? Shit, he really could've me you earlier. "What about you? Haven't seen you around before", you threw the question back at him, taking a sip from the drink in your hand. He had to avert his gaze from the way your lips wrapped around the rim, which was very distracting.

"Oh, I've known Josh for years. Us and a couple of other people here went to high school together", he saw your eyes light up with this information, visibly impressed.

"Oh my God. How come have I not seen you before?", you were shocked that you never noticed this man at any of the parties Josh and Charlie usually threw.

"I moved out of here really young. I live in LA now, so it's difficult to visit", he kept the information that he was in a band to himself. He liked the way you seem to not know who he is at all.

"I think he's mentioned having friends in LA before", you mused, but didn't dwell much on the information. "I don't blame you, LA seems to be much more interesting than here"

"Yeah, a little crazy out there. Not a dull moment, that's for sure", you agreed, and he wanted to know more about you, but refrained from asking what you did for a living, afraid that you would ask him back, and he sure didn't wanna lie to you.

"I never left here, I just assume from the stories I hear", he was surprised to hear this, not for the fact that you never visited other places, but because he couldn't imagine someone spending their whole lives in this place.

"You never felt the urge to go somewhere else?", he couldn't help but ask you. You thought for a second before answering him.

"I mean, I would obviously love to travel to other places, but I don't know if I would actually move somewhere else", he hummed, and you continued. "My whole life is here, my parents are here, and I know this city like the back of my hand. I guess I like the familiarity of the place"

He could understand that. Not everyone had a traumatizing childhood and teenage years like him. He guesses he could like the place if it wasn't tied to such bad memories.

He was about to ask you something else when Charlie approached the two of you, and he noticed the knowing look on her face the second he saw it.

"Hey, you two", she said as she rested one hand on your shoulder. "We're playing a board game in the living room, and Josh wanted me to ask if any of you would like to participate"

Noah waited for you to answer first, half hoping you would say no, just so he could talk to you for a little but longer. However, what you said instead crashed his hopes of talking to you for the rest of the party.

"I would love to, but I should be heading out. I'm dead tired and really need some sleep", you had an apologetic look on your face, and when he really took the time to look at you, he did notice your slightly droopy eyes.

"Thank you for coming, I know work has been chewing your ass lately", Charlie told you, but you dismissed her with a wave of your hand.

"You know I love hanging out with you guys, so it's worth the effort", you said with sincerity in your voice and you and Charlie exchanged a hug and goodbyes.

Turning back to face him, you noticed that you didn't really want to leave, but needed to before you got even more tired. Suddenly, you realized you never got his name.

"Well, we've been talking all this time and I never asked your name", you chuckled at the absurdity of it.

"My name is Noah", he extended his hand for you to shake. "What's yours?"

You took his hand in yours, noticing the way it entirely encompassed yours. You observed the details on the tattoos he had on his knuckles and hands, and you wondered once again if they continued up his arms and shoulders. "I'm Y/N"

"Well, Y/N, it's been a pleasure talking to you", he gave you soft smile and you wanted to get lost in his eyes and the way he was looking at you right now. As if you were the greatest thing that's happened to him the entire week. Little did you know.

"The feeling is mutual" you smiled back at him, having to let go of his hand, as to not turn this into those too long handshakes. "I should get going", you said and started to turn around before he stopped you.

"Actually", he started, prompting you to look back at him. "I was wondering if I could get your number", he had the same hopeful look on his face as earlier, when he asked you if he could grab you a drink. You looked at him for a few seconds before answering.

"Yeah, of course. Here it is", you handed him your phone and he put his contact in, giving it back to you.

"I'll text you so you can add mine", you tapped your screen a few times and after a couple of seconds, his phone vibrated on his back pocket. "There, now we have each other's numbers", you pocketed your phone.

"Text me when you get home?", he asked and you were caught a little off-guard, but couldn't deny you loved the way he genuinely seemed to care about you.

"Of course. I'll let you know", you smiled and contemplated giving him a hug, just to feel the way his arms would wrap around your body, but thought it would be too much for a first encounter. You settled in a little awkward wave as you turned around to make your way out of the backyard and in the direction of your car.

Noah, on the other hand, was frozen in place. When he spotted you, he was sure he was doomed to watch you from afar the whole night. But when he saw you by the table full of drinks, looking a little lost, he decided to take Nicholas' advice and mingle a little.

For someone who hated this city so much, he was actually feeling a little disappointed in having to leave in a few days. He always felt like there was nothing else worth sticking around for here, but as he replayed your smile in his head, and how your skin felt in his in those couple of seconds he shook your hand, he couldn't help but think he could stay here, if it meant he got to experince moments like this with you again.

He decided to make his way back inside, the party now with only a few people left. He sat on the couch as he watched Nicholas and his friends play a game of Monoply on the dinner table.

A few minutes went by when he felt his phone vibrate in back pocket. Fishing it out, he saw it was a text from you.

You: Hi! Just letting you know I got home safely :)

He felt a smile take over his face as he replied to you.

Noah: Hey! Glad everything went alright. Have a good night and sleep well x

You: Thank you :) Enjoy the rest of the party!

Noah: I'm about to leave soon actually. Talk to you tomorrow?

You: Sure! Drive home safe and let ME know when you get home? ;)

Noah: I will, but something tells me you'll be asleep by then

At home, you were leaning against the bathroom counter, your toothbrush hanging from your mouth, stupidly grinning at your phone.

You: I'll wait up :)

The next day was chores day for you. Clean the house, get the laundry done, change the sheets and whatever else you needed to do around the house.

Even with the music blaring through the speakers to keep you entertained while you loaded the dishes in the dishwasher, you couldn't help but let your mind run wild with thoughts of Noah.

You couldn't let go of the fact that he was so nice to you, despite never having seen you before. It's not that guys were never nice to you, it's just that the niceness came with the intentions fo something else, and you didn't want to think of Noah as one of those people.

Closing the dishwasher and starting the cycle, you made your way to the bedroom to collect all the clothes that needed washing.

As soon as you got in the room, you stopped in your tracks, your image on the mirror on the opposite wall from you catching your attention.

This was obviously a lazy day, and there was no use in dressing up to clean the house, but still, you could see the wisps of hair and the frizz sticking out from your bun, that sat atop of your head.

You wore a baggy t-shirt and some gym shorts, turning a bit to the side, you observed the fat of your thighs basically swallowing the tight fabric.

Nowadays, you weren't so worried with the way you look as you were as a teenager. A lot of therapy over the years helped you accept yourself. But you can't say it didn't leave any traumas behind.

Before you could even realize what was happening, the voices in your head were already sabotaging you.

"See? You were right. Noah is probably not attracted to you at all"

"He probably made a bet with someone about how he could charm the fat girl no one wants"

"He's tall, tattooed and handsome. You're just you"

It didn't matter anyway, he's doesn't even live here. His life in LA is probably more interesting than anything this city could offer him. He'll leave soon and your life would be back to normal. He'll probably not even text you, your phone number lost in all the other numbers he probably has in his phone.

Huffing with annoyance at how the day took a turn, you hurried to gather the clothes and make your way out of the room.

At the Ruffilo's house, Noah was laying on the couch, with his phone in his hand, open on your text thread with you from last night.

To be honest, he wanted to text you right when he woke up, but didn't want to come off to strong or bother you on your day off. Now, as it was nearing 3:00 pm, he was tired of holding himself back.

He's been contemplating on how he could ask you out for the entire day, and decided he should keep it simple. Maybe ask you out to eat some dinner. Nothing too fancy, just some burgers, fries and a milkshake at the place he loved to go with his friends as a teenager.

He even though about taking you to the lookout he always went to, to clear his head when the noises in his head got too loud. He hasn't been there in years, and now was a good time to try and resignify what the place meant to him.

So, he started typing.

Noah: Hey! Remember me?

He sent the text and stared at the screen, biting the nail on his thumb. He waited a couple of minutes for an answer, but the bubbles showing that you were typing a reply didn't appear on his screen.

You could be busy. Or you could already be out with someone else. It's the weekend after all, why would you spend it rotting away on the couch like him?

He knew if he stayed here, he would drive himself mad. So he decided to make his way uptairs to take a shower, and hopefully take his mind off of you for a few minutes.

Meanwhile, you were debating with yourself. After your dilemma earlier in the day, you weren't expecting to get a text from Noah. Actually, you were kind of hoping he wouldn't contact you, because you weren't ready to unpack what you were feeling for this guy you just met yesterday.

But here you are, mind running in circles thinking about what to say to him. Should you even reply? No, that's out of the question. You always thought it was rude to leave somone on read, especially on purpose.

You couldn't deny that you were curious to find out what he wanted. So, without dwelling much more on it, you started typing.

You: Hey there! Of course I do. Yesterday wasn't that long ago.

You wanted to lock your screen and chuck your phone across the room. But you weren't fifteen anymore, so you resorted to scrolling through social media as you waited for his responde. Eyes wandering to the notification bar every few seconds.

If this was just a booty call, you were going to be extremely upset. Would it be so bad though to have a one night stand with the hot guy?

Your phone vibrated in your hand, a text coming through.

Noah: Just wanted to make sure

What's up? You having a good weekend?

You: If good means cleaning the house the entire day, then I'm having a great weekend. What about you?

Noah: Well, now you're just making me feel bad, 'cause I didn't do anything the entire day

You: That sounds perfect, actually

Noah: Since your weekend has been so strenuous, what do you think about having some dinner?

Did he just ask you out? Were your eyes deceiving you? You didn't know what to tell him.

You obviously wanted to spend more time with him, enjoying the time you spent with him yesterday. But your mind took you back to earlier in the day. You hated yourself for always assuming the worst in a situation.

Maybe he didn't even mean anything by asking you to have dinner with him. Maybe he was just being polite. But why would he be polite to someone he just met?

Ultimately, you decided that this didn't have to mean anything more than just two people eating together. Besides, you were curious to find out what his intentions were. If he even had any.

You: Sounds good. What are you thinking?

Noah: Do you like burgers?

You: Oh, I love burgers!

Noah: It's set then! I know just the place

I'll pick you up at 7?

You: I'll be ready :)

Noah was sat on his bed, towel still wrapped around his hips, looking stupidly at his phone, a grin on his lips. He pondered a lot during his shower, and decided that he was done waiting. He didn't have much more time in his hometown, so he wanted to make the most of the time he still had with you.

He knew it was still too early to call this a first date, but he was nervous as if it was. He really hopes you like what he has planned for the two of you. It's nothing too fancy or too special, a simple dinner overlooking the city at night, but it held a lot of meaning for him.

Getting dressed and going downstairs to get some water, he knew he'd be stressing until it was time to leave to pick you up, so he decided to play some games on his computer to try and distract himself a little.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, and overanalyzed your outfit like you've been doing for probably the past 10 minutes. You wore a dress that went down to about your knees, it was a deep wine color, and threw on a leather jacket on top, just in case it got windy outside.

You opted to go for comfort instead of anything fancy, so deciding that this outfit was enough, you went to your closet and grabbed your pair of Vans and slipped them on your feet.

Noah should be here in about 15 minutes, and you wanted to be ready. He texted you a little earlier asking for your address, you gave it to him and just told him to text you when he got here. Since you lived in an apartment, it would be easir for you to come down and meet him at the entrance.

You didn't have to wait long until you phone chimed in your hands, a text popping up on the screen.

Noah: I'm here :)

You: I'll be down in a second!

Locking the door behind you, you waited for the elevator. Your legs couldn't seem to keep still, and you realized you were nervous for whatever was about to happen when you met him outside.

Do you hug him? Do you shake his hand? No, that's too formal of a greeting. But would he want to hug you this soon? He seemed to be a reserved person.

You didn't have much more time to overthink on this situation, because soon you were stepping inside the elevator. You cursed yourself for living only on the third floor, because before you could freak out a bit more, the doors dinged and you stepped out.

When you laid eyes on him, he was standing outside his car, back leaning against the passenger side door, long legs crossed and hands tucked into his pants' pockets.

You almost stopped yourself in your tracks. He was wearing a short sleeved shirt, and you could see the tattoos decorating both of his arms. You almost wanted to just stand there and admire the way looked waiting for you.

But you couldn't allow yourself to look like a fool on the first time you were going out with him. So you put on a smile and walked over to him. You didn't have to overthink anything at all, because as soon as you got close to him, you heard him say a "hello" and stretch out his arms for you to give him a hug.

He felt warm and sturdy against you, and you noticed the way his arms circled your shoulders and around your neck. You could feel his muscles through the fabric of your dress, and it made you a little dizzy.

When you both parted from the hug, you said "hi" back him.

"C'mon in", he gestured to the car and opened the door for you. You situated yourself on the passenger seat and he shut the door behind you, making his to the other side.

"So, what's the plan for tonight?", you asked, as you buckled you seatbelt and watched him do the same.

"I know this place that sells some really good burgers. My friends and I used to go there all the time. I hope it's still good", he answered and started driving.

"Burgers are always nice", you pointed out.

"Not always", he quickly looked at you with his eyebrows raised.

"Are you particular about your burgers?"

"It's not that I'm pinky or anything. It's just that I knwo when a burger is bad", he explained himself while taking a right turn and entering another neighbourhood.

"And what is a bad burger in your opinion?", you turned yourself slightly on your seat, so you could look at him better.

"Well, first, the bun has to be sealed, so it isn't soggy from the sauce", you nodded along to his explanation. "Then, the burger has to be thick enough to be juicy, and it can't be cooked for too long because then it becomes dry", he makes a face as if dry burgers are a personal attack to him.

"I guess you're right about all of that. Maybe spending four years in college kind of messed up my idea of good food"

"You ate a lot of weird stuff?", he asked you.

"It's incredible the stuff you can come up with on a budget", you shrugged and he seemed to be satisfied with your answer.

Not too long after, Noah's pulling to a vintage looking diner, but you notice him going to the drive thru instead of parking.

"We're not eating here?", you found yourself asking before you could stop.

"Shit, I didn't ask you", he stopped the car in the line and looked at you. "I was thinking about eating at this place I know, I think you're gonna like it", you could tell his confidence wavered a little bit, but you gave him a smile anyways.

"It's ok, I don't mind eating somewhere else"

The line progressed quickly and in about fifteen minutes, you were grabbing your order and Noah was driving again.

You noticed he was driving to a less populated area, and more trees came into view, the headlights of the car illuminated the path ahead.

"I clearly didn't think this through because this totally looks like I'm kidnapping you or something", he chuckled a little, but you could tell he was nervous.

"I didn't think about that", you told him. Maybe you thought this place was a little weird, but you weren't going to comment on that.

"We're almost there, ok", you nodded and true to his words, a few turns later, the car arrived at a clearence. Noah drove a little bit more and parked the car.

Looking through the windshield, you could see the light from the city below you and the stars shining bright above you.

"You were right. I really do like this place", you stated, still a little bit in awe. How did you not know about this place?

"I'm really glad you like it", he said, watching you observe the place around you. "Well, let's eat before the food gets cold"

You ate and talked, now feeling more comfortable with each other's presence. Noah told you he used to come here as a teenager all the time, though he didn't tell you the reason.

He didn't feel the same emotions now as he did before when coming to this place. It felt like a new life now for him, e new beginning, and he was to have someone like you here with him.

You did tell him though, that this was one of the best burgers you've ever eating in your life, and that you would totally eat there more. He couldn't hide the smile on his face.

After you were done, he gathered all the wrappers and cups and got out of the car to put it in the trash can that was not too far away from the car.

You sat there, observing him and wondering if you were the only one feeling like this was more than just two people who just met each other going out to dinner.

He got back and sat down on the driver's seat. Looking out into the city, he said "I kind of don't wanna go yet"

"I don't either", you agreed. You felt a weird sense of calm on this place, with him. "I can tell that being here means a lot to you. And you don't have to tell me anything, but I'm glad you brought me here"

He didn't say anything for a while, and you both just sat there in comfortable silence.

"I never liked coming back here, to my hometown", he started, you just looked at him, not saying anything, not wanting to rush him. "I have really bad memories from this place. But don't know, being here this time, meeting you, made me feel like this city still has some good in it"

"Noah, I'm hardly anyone important", you reasoned.

"It's not that. I just feel like you're here because you wanna be, and not because you want to get something from me", he looked down at his lap.

"Why would I wanna get something from you?", you were feeling a little confused now.

"it's just always the way it works. Charlie never told you whar I do on LA?", he questioned you, looking at you from the corner of his eyes.

"She told me you're in a band. Which I googled and you guys look pretty good at what you do", you noticed his eyes widening when you said this.

"So you know?", his voice was a little smaller right now, aprehensive.

"Of course. Josh would never shut up about his friends who went to LA and got famous", you laughed quietly at this. "I'm sorry that people made you feel worthy only if you have something to give them"

He looked down again, but you continued. "But I was serious when I told you that I'm not anyone important. I'm glad to be here right now, and I really enjoy your company, but you're going back to LA soon and then this is the last thing you'll think about"

"I don't think that's true", he was quick to disagree with you. "Before arriving here, I felt dread coming back to this place. Now I feel like I don't wanna leave. You're the reason for that, and I'll never forget the way you've made me feel this past two days. Because I haven't felt his normal in years", you didn't know what to say to that, so you just looked at him.

He straighted his back, and leaned his elbows on the center console, his face now closer to yours.

"Will you give me the pleasure of tasting your lips before I go absolutely insane?", he was looking right at your eyes, voice low as if there weren't the two of you here.

"We can't have you going insane, can we?", you said and leaned closer, brushing your lips on his.

You felt his hand going up your neck and gripping your jaw. He licked his lips and you closed your eyes, and soon you felt the plush of his lips on yours, slow at first, but then he got a little more urgent, picking up his pace.

His tongue teased your lips and you granted him entrance, you whimpered at the feeling of his mouth on yours, and he held your face tighter.

After parting, you were both panting, you with a smile in your face at the feeling of his thumb carresing your cheek.

"How am I supposed to ever leave this place now?", he wondered out loud and connected his lips yours again.

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the-winter-spider · 1 day ago

Text

Invisible | Part Five

Pairings: Bucky x Reader AU

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Angst, smuuuuutttttt, bucky and you dumb affffff and will continue to be dumb affff lol

A/N: I will be updating my masterlist to link it below so you dont have to search for the other parts!

As you walked in a clicked the door shut, placing your keys in the bowl, that had little flowers painted all over it your heart clenched, Bucky made it to you is some ceramics class he took so he could make you a birthday gift that was extra special, you sighed pulling out your phone to text Steve: Made it home safe.

Your phone chimed back almost instantly: Good. Was worried about you.

As you made your way down the hallway, your hand lingered on your door as you stared at Bucky's door, which was across from yours "Stop it" You mumbled to yourself, you shut your door behind you a little too fast as you typed out: Thanks for always being there Stevie.

It said Read as soon as the message sent and the bubbled popped up: Always. Get some rest, okay?

I'll try, Dont drink too much beer, someone told me its not good for your health ;) night

-- Ha ha, whoever said that sounds like a smart guy... Goodnight :)

You laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling, your mind a chaotic mess of thoughts you can’t quiet. You’ve been tossing and turning for what feels like hours, every second dragging painfully slowly. Your heart twists with questions and doubt, replaying all the subtle moments with Bucky—moments you were so sure meant something more. Had you read all the signs wrong? All this time, you thought there was something unspoken between you, something lingering just beneath the surface. But now, with Kate in the picture, that hope feels like it’s slipping away, leaving you feeling vulnerable and maybe a little foolish.

You’re still caught up in the whirlwind of your thoughts when you hear the front door click shut. Bucky is back. Only one pair of footsteps echoes through the quiet apartment, and you exhale softly. Kate isn’t with him.

You listen as his footsteps draw closer down the hall, your heart pounding as they slow right outside your door. You hold your breath, half-wanting to call out, half-terrified of what he might say.

After a moment, his soft voice breaks the silence. “Doll…you awake?”

You bite your lip, staying silent, your eyes squeezed shut as if that might make the whole situation disappear.

There’s a long pause, and then you hear him sigh. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” His voice is barely a whisper, laced with regret. You hear him linger for a beat longer before the quiet click of his bedroom door closing.

Your heart sinks, and you lie there, sleepless and aching, until exhaustion finally wins over.

When you wake the next morning, the apartment is still and quiet. You glance across the hall, hearing no sounds from Bucky’s room. Thank God. You don’t know how you’d face him just yet, so you dress quickly, grab your things, and slip out of the apartment, practically fleeing as if it were on fire.

The early morning air is crisp, waking you up fully as you make your way to your usual spots. You grab a coffee, linger at the bookstore for a while, and then pick up a bottle of wine for girls�� night, something you’re now very much looking forward to. On a whim, you swing by your favourite bakery, grabbing a big bag of donuts, hoping it’ll be a welcome surprise.

By the time you reach Wanda and Natasha’s apartment, it’s still early, and you can almost hear Wanda’s sleepy grumble before you even knock. After a few moments, the door creaks open, and Wanda appears, rubbing her eyes, looking as if she’s just rolled out of bed.

She blinks at you, her voice drowsy. “You’re about five hours too early for girls’ night,” she mumbles with a yawn.

You laugh, lifting the bag of donuts. “I come bearing gifts!”

Her eyes light up at the sight, and she grins. “Screw girls’ night. This is now a girls’ day.” She opens the door wide, ushering you inside with a grin.

You gather around the kitchen table, mugs of coffee in hand as you tear into the donuts. It doesn’t take long for the questions to start, Wanda eyeing you carefully between bites.

“So,” Wanda begins, her voice casual but with that all-too-knowing glint in her eye. “What’s going on with you and Barnes?”

You let out a heavy sigh, and Wanda's face softened , as if sensing just how much you’ve needed this. “It’s…complicated,” you admit, glancing down at your coffee. “I thought…I thought there was something between us, you know? And after all these years.... But now, with Kate…I don’t know anymore, i dont think i ever did"

Wanda frowns, reaching out to pat your hand. “Maybe he’s just as mixed up as you are,” she offers gently. “Bucky’s not exactly known for being straightforward about his feelings.”

“Yeah, but after all this time…” you trail off, feeling the weight of all those quiet hopes and missed chances.

Wanda shakes her head, determination flaring in her eyes. “Look, you deserve someone who knows exactly what he wants and isn’t afraid to show it, and its girls day anyway, forget about those stupid boys!"

You raise your coffee cup in agreement. “To girls’ day,” you declared, grinning. “Where we eat donuts, drink wine way too early, and forget about all confusing men for a while.” You clink your coffee mugs together, laughter filling the room. And as the morning stretches into afternoon, with stories and laughter, you find yourself able to breathe a little easier.

---

Later that day, Steve, Bucky, and Sam were sprawled around Steve’s living room, beers in hand, the low murmur of a football game playing in the background. It was guys’ night, meant to be an escape, but the tension in the air was hard to ignore.

After a sip, Sam shot Bucky a look. “So…how’s she doing?” he asked, referring to you, tone casual, but with an underlying hint of curiosity.

Bucky shifted in his seat, his jaw tightening. “She was asleep when I got back from the bar last night,” he muttered. “And gone before I woke up. Hasn’t been answering any of my texts.” He rubbed a hand over his face, clearly frustrated.

Sam snorted, shaking his head. “Can you blame her?”

Bucky gave a weak chuckle, but his shoulders slumped. “I know,” he sighed, glancing away. “Nat gave me an earful last night.”

Steve groaned, rolling his eyes as he leaned forward. “Do you really get it, Buck? Do you know how amazing she is? She’s been there for us, for you through everything—through all the moves, the close calls, every rough patch. She’s loyal, funny, strong, and—she’s beautiful, Bucky. Inside and out.” His voice softened. “She’s always been there, right there pal.”

Realisation flickered across Sam’s face watching the way Steve talked about you piecing together how he was when he rushed out the night before to chase after you and the way he wouldn't let his phone lock till you said you made it home safe, while Bucky stared into his drink, his usual swagger deflated. He stood up to grab another beer, muttering to himself, “If I didn’t know any better, Steve, I’d say you were in love with her.”

As the words left his mouth, the room went silent, the no response was a response enough. Bucky froze, beer forgotten, as he shut the fridge door and peered at Steve. “You…you’re in love with her?”

Steve sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, avoiding Bucky’s eyes. “Man…can you blame me? After all these years? Are you telling me you’re not?”

Bucky blinked, taken aback. He shook his head slowly, in disbelief. “I mean, I knew you had a crush on her back in junior high. But come on, everyone did.”

Sam, leaning back on the couch, gave Steve a knowing look. “So, why didn’t you make a move, Rogers?”

Steve shrugged, his eyes distant. “Come on, you know why, Sam.”

Sam nodded, understanding why because well he tried but after looking, really looking he could tell your heart was tied up elsewhere, and Steve glanced at Bucky, a faint apology in his gaze. “Look, Buck, I didn’t mean to drop that on you. I’m sorry, pal, its just i dont get you man”

Bucky hesitated, the gears visibly turning in his mind. “Are…are you still in love with her?”

Steve let out a sigh, giving a small, wistful smile. “She was the first girl I ever fell in love with, Buck. Part of me probably always will be. But y’know she's my best friend and you're my best friend too…” His voice softened, a bit nostalgic, and understanding as he met Bucky’s eyes.

Bucky shifted, brows drawn, processing Steve’s words. “Does she know?”

Steve shook his head with a dry chuckle, and Sam cut in, rolling his eyes. “She’s as blind as you, Buck. God, you two are just—two peas in a pod.” Sam raised his beer, a grin spreading on his face. “Here’s to that.”

Steve chuckled, raising his own beer. “I’ll toast to that.”

Bucky frowned, folding his arms. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Steve leaned forward, looking Bucky dead in the eye. “Look, punk, that girl’s been head-over-heels in love with you since we were kids. Anyone with two eyes can see it. And you? You’ve been playing this back-and-forth with her for years—whether you know it or not. I know you’d never hurt her on purpose, but come on, man. You’ve gotta stop doing this.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened, a mix of frustration and longing crossing his face. His gaze dropped, his voice almost a whisper. “I fell in love with her the first day I saw her, when we fought over the swings in kindergarten” He smiled softly “Ive never, never loved her”

Sam groaned, throwing his hands up. “Then what the hell’s stopping you, Buck? She’s right there, man! You know how many people search their whole lives for ‘the one’? And she’s been there all along!”

Bucky clenched his jaw, his voice barely more than a growl. “I know, Sam. Don’t you think I know?”

Steve shook his head, exasperated but with a hint of a smile. “Then what the heck are you waiting for?”

Bucky looked at both of them, the weight of years of history and feelings settling over him “Something happened in college”

---

Just as you finish setting out the wine glasses, Natasha walks in, kicking off her shoes with a groan. “Finally!” she exclaims, collapsing onto the couch. “Rough day. I need a drink and a plan for tomorrow. We’re going all out for your date.”

You laugh, topping off Natasha’s glass. “Already on it. Tomorrow, we’re going shopping for a new dress. And then Saturday, you’re kicking Bucky and the boys out of the apartment, and we’re having girls’ day to get you ready.”

Wanda grins, chiming in, “And fingers crossed, maybe you won’t come back. You’ll be over at Dean’s, if you know what I mean” she wiggled her eyebrows

You roll your eyes, groaning. “Slow down, Wanda! Not so fast!”

Wanda tilts her head with a teasing look. “Speaking of which, when was the last time you even got close to any action? You’re never with anyone, not even back in college!”

Natasha leans in, smirking. “Don’t tell me we’ve been getting all the action while you’re at home alone with a favourite vibrator or something....unless you've been hiding a double life this whole time" She winked

You sputter mid-sip, choking on your wine as the other two crack up. Laughing, you shake your head. “I mean… there was… one time.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow, her eyes gleaming. “Excuse me? Who? You never told me this.”

Wanda, leans closer “Come on, spill. Who was it?”

You sigh, feeling the warmth in your cheeks. “Okay, okay….do you guys remember that party John Walker threw in our third year?”

Wanda’s eyes widen. “Oh, how could I forget? Natasha jumped from the balcony into the pool, and I nearly had a heart attack!”

Natasha laughs, looking delighted at the memory. “Best party of college. But wait… I remember after that, we couldn’t find you anywhere. We looked for ages and got really worried.” Her expression shifts, suspicion dawning in her eyes. “Wait. Whose room did you disappear to that night?”

Wanda’s jaw drops, and she leans forward, her eyes alight with excitement. “Oh, this is gonna be good. Tell me it was someone we know! Oh my god was it Tony?!”

They start tossing out names: “Steve?” “Sam? No he was already gone” “That guy in your English Lit class?” “Oh my god it had to have been that exchange student, with the long blonde hair -- he looked like a god and he was so into you!”

You finish your wine, swallowing before glancing meaningfully at Natasha, that was one of your favourite things about your relationship with her, the way you both could just almost telepathically speak to one another.

Natasha’s eyes widen, her mouth dropping open in shock. “No, nuh huh! No way.”

Wanda looks between the two of you, completely lost. “What? I’m missing something here!”

Natasha, still staring at you in disbelief, finally speaks, her voice low. “Bucky?”

You nod, cheeks burning as Wanda promptly spits out her wine, sputtering in shock. “You’re kidding!”

“Not at all,” you admit. “We… never talked about it again. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t even remember it was me.”

Natasha’s expression softens. “You don’t have to tell us the story if you don’t want to.”

But you just give a little nod, ready to finally let it out. “It was after you jumped off the balcony into the pool, I decided I should probably check on the boys especially if that's what you were doing” You laughed shaking your head “Bucky and I… we did a couple of shots….and there was this… moment.”

Natasha and Wanda exchange glances, both of them leaning in, wide-eyed as you begin to share the story of that unexpected, unforgettable night.

The party is in full swing, laughter and music echoing throughout the dimly lit house. You stumble out of the crowded living room, laughter bubbling in your chest as you weave through the throng of bodies.

You spot Bucky on the far side of the room, his broad shoulders hunched over as he leans against the wall, a beer in hand. He's wearing that classic, easy grin that makes your heart race.

With a few drinks in you, your inhibitions are low. You move toward him, your steps unsteady but filled with purpose. "Hey, Barnes," you say, your voice a playful challenge. "Having fun?"

Bucky's smile widens, and his blue eyes sparkle with mischief. "Just trying to keep an eye on the chaos. You know how it gets at these things." He gestures toward the crowd where Steve has just attempted to do a keg stand, much to everyone's delight.

“You’re telling me, Nat just jumped from the balcony into the pool” You gesture with your hands to the backyard, you could tell that he was worried by the look that washed over his face “She's okay, its Nat, Wanda on the other hand almost had a heart attack”

“God, she's insane!” He laughed, finishing his drink.

“Yeah, after that i decided to come check on my boys”

“Your boys hey?” He half smiled, his eyes piercing into yours

You laugh, leaning closer to him, the warmth of his body drawing you in. "Yeah my boys” You shoved him lightly, feeling anxious all of a sudden “Want another drink?" He nods, and together, you slip into the kitchen. The room is quiet here, and the air is filled with the sweet smell of spilled cocktails and the faint scent of something baking in the oven.

You pour two shots of something strong, handing one to Bucky. "To surviving another wild night," he toasts, clinking your glass against his.

"Cheers," you giggle, and you both down the shots, the liquor burning pleasantly on the way down. You pour another round, the world around you blurring into a warm haze.

As the night wears on, you find yourselves retreating to a quieter corner, sharing stories and laughter, the tension between you thickening like the air before a storm. "You know, I always thought you were kind of a dork," you tease, nudging him playfully.

"Yeah? And what do you think now?" he asks, leaning closer, the playful spark in his eyes deepening.

"I think you're a charming, more sophisticated dork," you say softly giggling. But then all of a sudden the moment shifts, when Bucky's face stays serious even with your giggles. The laughter fades, replaced by something heavier, more charged.

Bucky's gaze drops to your lips, and you feel your heart racing. "I could say the same about you, you’re a dork too…" he murmurs, and you can't help but feel drawn to him. He reaches out, brushing a stray hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary “But I always thought you were the most beautiful girl in any room, like thats my best friend, couldn't believe it, still cant” The air crackles between you, and suddenly, the noise of the party fades away.

You find yourself leaning in, breathless, and Bucky meets you halfway. His lips are warm and slightly rough against yours, igniting a fire in your veins. You kiss him back, deepening the connection, your hands finding their way to his neck, pulling him closer.

As the kiss intensifies, you feel the world spin away, leaving just the two of you in this moment. Bucky's hands slide to your waist, fingers digging into your sides, anchoring you against him.

He pulls you closer, and the heat of his body against yours sends shivers down your spine. "Let's get out of here," he whispers against your lips, his breath hot and inviting.

You nod, your heart racing with a mix of excitement and nervousness. He takes your hand, leading you through the house, away from the noise and chaos. You finally reach a door at the end of the hall. Bucky opens it, and you step into his dimly lit room.

As soon as the door closes, he's on you again, kissing you fiercely, as if he's been waiting for this moment as long as you have. The bed looms behind him, a tempting promise of what's to come.

Bucky's hands roam over your body, exploring with an urgency that sends your heart racing. "Are you sure about this doll?" he asks, pulling back slightly to look into your eyes, the sincerity in his gaze grounding you.

"I am," you breathe, and that's all the reassurance he needs.

With a shared breath, he pushes you gently back toward the bed, and you sink onto the soft sheets.

He follows, his body a comforting weight above you as he kisses you again, slower this time, exploring the taste of each other like it's a secret.

The world outside fades completely as you lose yourselves in each other, fingers tangling in hair, the soft sounds of your breaths and whispered names filling the room. Bucky's hands slide beneath your shirt, his touch igniting a fire on your skin as he revels in the curves and contours of your body. You arch into him, craving more.

"You feel so good," he murmurs against your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

The sound of his voice, thick with desire, sends waves of heat crashing over you. "Bucky," you gasp, feeling bold as you pull him down to kiss him again, your legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer.

He responds with a low growl, pressing into you, the friction driving you wild. "Are we really doing this?" he asks, his voice thick, almost reverent.

"Yes," you whisper, and it's like a spell has been cast. He grins, and the world melts away as you lose yourselves in each other, bodies entwined, hearts racing, as the night unfolds in a flurry of passion and warmth.

"You have no idea doll, no idea...." He whispers before diving back in, time loses all meaning, the night stretching on until exhaustion pulls you both under, and as sleep claims you, the last thing you feel is the warmth of Bucky's body next to yours, a content sigh escaping his lips.

The next morning, sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a soft, golden glow over the room. You blink against it, slowly waking up to the warmth of Bucky beside you, still fast asleep. For a moment, you let yourself soak in the sight of him, the softness of his face, the gentle rise and fall of his chest. But then it hits—the sharp pang of reality—and your heart sinks.

Your mind races, doubts creeping in like shadows. Last night felt like a dream, one that you’d wanted for so long. But had it really meant something to him? Or was it just a hazy, alcohol-fueled blur—a careless mistake he wouldn’t think twice about in the morning? Anxiety knots in your stomach as you wonder, What if I was just… there? Convenient.

Slowly, you slip out of bed, careful not to disturb him, each movement feeling heavy, like you’re pulling away from something you’ll never get back. You dress in silence, your hands trembling slightly as you piece together last night’s clothes. You glance back at him once, letting yourself hold onto the memory for a beat longer, but the panic rises again, louder than before. He’s Bucky—your best friend—and you don’t dare risk what little you have left with him if he wakes up and regrets this.

You need to leave before he opens his eyes. Before you see anything in them that could shatter you.

With one last look, you step out, closing the door softly behind you, the quiet click echoing in the empty hallway. As you walk away, the weight of that night presses down on you, a mixture of longing and regret settling deep, leaving you wondering if he’ll ever even think of it again.

#Spotify #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x y/n #sebastian stan x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes au #bucky banres #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader angst

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tmwcs · 1 day ago

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PART ONE

Warnings: Nothing unusual to report…not yet. Just references from the last two fairy tales posted in Masterlist. This includes the teaser posted two days ago. If you’ve read the teaser, skip through until you see the red text. That’s where the additional part of the story continues.

“Young girl in the local area is the second to disappear without a trace. Authorities are on high alert and encourage all women to remain at home and avoid traveling alone.”

You click on the abrupt notification–the article details the two young women who vanished within the last six months. The first girl disappeared while traveling and visiting her grandmother’s house and another was on her way to a job interview at the local library, but never made it. The strange occurrences had everyone panicking and adhering to the extreme measures to avoid their daughters from being the next to abruptly disappear.

“Y/N, take the car and drop your sister off at her friend’s house.” your mother urges. Your younger sister was around the same age as the young girls who had disappeared, so it became understandable why her safety was paramount. Of course you weren’t excluded from concern, however, being that you were older and already on your way to finishing up your college education, it’s presumed that you were in the clear. At least that’s what the authorities stated in their public announcements.

“Take her, make sure you watch her enter the house before you drive off. Then come right back here, understand?” your mother’s strict orders were firm and left no room for argument. “Fine.” you answered quietly. Running errands and dropping off your younger sibling always came with the same warnings and specific instructions–nothing out of the ordinary.

The drive wasn’t terribly far–around twenty minutes. Sometimes you wonder why your family decided to reside in the suburbs–so far from the city. Wouldn’t it have been better had they considered moving closer? Considering that both your parents place of employment and your younger sister’s school, it would be so much more convenient had they found a neighborhood much closer.

“I feel so sorry for that girl–you know?”

Her voice interrupts your thoughts as you delicately come to a stop at the red light. “Are you talking about the one that just disappeared?”

“Yeah. She was so pretty too, just like the first one.” her voice was soft and tender, and just like those girls, your precious younger sibling couldn’t be excluded from the list of potential victims. No wonder your parents were always so concerned over her staying late for after school activities. With her traditional beauty and delicate frame, she was every kidnapper's dream.

Pulling up the driveway, you followed your mother’s instructions as ordered. Checking your phone, you send a text out to notify your parents that you both made it at the sleepover, when your sister's phone screen abruptly is placed in front of you, followed by a small giggle.

“What is that?” you sharply questioned, a slight annoyance accompanies your tone. “Isn’t it cute? I took it earlier today.”

Being the prankster that she was, it was no surprise that you became a pawn in your sister’s line of mischievous acts. “So uncool. Erase that.”

“Oh come on! I took it because you looked so pretty. You know, everyone always says the same thing–even in high school. Remember all those times you napped during the lunch hour? Everyone always said that you looked so pretty whenever you slept. Guess that’s why they always called you that name, huh?”

You let out a tiring sigh. “Yeah, I guess so.” it was true–the nickname stuck with you even all through college when your friends carried the name over. They would always ask you in jest why you slept so often, and you wish you had an answer for them, but you never could come up with one. You don't know why–all your life you just felt so tired. Your pondering thoughts are interrupted once more when you hear your sister thanking you for the ride.

“Alright, Sleeping Beauty! Thanks for dropping me off! Love you!”

………

The twenty minute drive back seemed much longer than before. Perhaps you’re just tired—all the assignments and study sessions were probably getting to you. You pull up and notice the other car gone. Did your parents go out?

You walk in and took the precautionary measures to lock the door behind. A small note is left propped on the dinner table, addressed to you:

‘Y/N, dinner is in the oven. Your dad and I went out to see some old friends—we will be back later. Love, mom.’

Well, there are worse things than to have an entire house all to yourself. The peaceful and quiet atmosphere was a pleasant contrast from the cyclic ruckus you grew to block out. For once, it was nice to not walk around with headphones and enjoy the stale sound of silence. Yet, it would appear you spoke too soon—your phone rings. Noticing the number, you answer half heartedly “hey girl.”

Your best friend answers with a myriad of giggles and knavery tone. “Guess what?”

“What?”

“We have a few transfer students that came in and all of them are going to be at Jess’s party tonight. You coming?”

You sigh. “No, don’t think I will. I’m tired.”

“You’re always tired!” Your best friend berates in disappointment. “Come on! At least look at the photo I just sent! They’re gorgeous!”

You spare a half glance at the photo and saw a group of young men posing for a photo. “I can’t—I still have to finish some things and I really am so tired.”

“Fine! You’re no fun but I still love you.” She giggles as she bids you goodbye. The last bit of her words replayed in echoes as you eeee taken back to a time in high school where she said the very same thing before…

‘…You’re no fun, but I still love you.’

You’re quite certain your friend recalls the events that occurred afterwards, when she left you at the theater after you denied her invitation to skip out on class and to attend a social gathering. You had rejected her offer and remained in the projection room to nap for an hour before your next class began. That was when you had the strangest dream. Remnants of that moment came back like pieces of a puzzle when you recalled that time —the dream was vivid and felt so real. A figure walking up and presenting a beautiful red rose—doing so delicately as to not wake you. It was as if you err watching a grainy film as you witnessed the happenings—from him laying the flower in your hand, stroking your hair, and kissing your forehead. The strangest bit was when you awoke for your next class, a rose was within your grasp. Yet, the projection room remained locked from the inside, leaving no margin for entry to anyone from the outside. Yet, still…no matter how many times you brushed it off, each moment you come back to that memory it just made you feel like something…something was—

*ring ring*

Your phone rings and you view the screen. You didn’t recognize the number so you ignored the call. The caller didn’t leave a voice message either, probably a scam call. You’ve been getting a lot of them lately.

Other than the two phone calls, your night was rather peaceful. You ate a light dinner and figured it would be best to start your reading materials before it gets too late. Washing the dishes, you scrubbed your plate in soapy water. The surface read covered by foamy bubbles, leaving the bottom elusive. A sharp prick stings the tip of your index finger, causing you to quickly retract your hand from the depths of the warm water. “What the hell?!”

You run the faucet on and rinse the wound under the fluid motion of the lukewarm stream and notice a single red dot. You drained the sink and didn’t notice any broken glass or dishes—what did you poke your finger on?

As the last remnants of soap and bubble spiral down the drain, your eyes caught on to something foreign from the steel background. Was that a…

“…a thorn?”

Your mind was boggled by the existence of a single rose thorn inside the sink. Strange. You held the thorn in hand and studied it for a second before your phone rang once more. It was your mother.

“Hello?”

“Y/N, I’m just checking in. Did you eat?”

“Yeah.”

You remain somewhat calm as you ponder about the thorn while hearing your mother rant about locking all the doors and windows. “Yeah, got it. Hey mom—“

You quickly catch her before she starts to say her goodbye. “Did you get roses or something?”

“Oh yes—for our friends. I went to the store and grabbed a small bouquet, why?”

You rolled your eyes out of relief and suddenly found the entire situation comical. “Nothing. I just saw a rose thorn in the sink.”

“Oh yes, I had rinsed them in the sink and put them in a vase. Be Careful when washing dishes.”

“Yeeeeah.” Your tone was sarcastic but she didn’t seem to catch on. Instead, she bid you farewell and you both hang up.

Placing the phone down, you felt a wave of fatigue hit you abruptly. Normally you felt tired and lethargic, but never have you felt extremely exhausted so suddenly. Your eyesight became dizzy—your body starts to feel weak. “What the hell…is…”

You couldn’t understand where this sudden sensation of fatigue came from. It’s as overwhelming and nearly took over your entire body—to the point where you found it hard to stand. It was as if you were punched by the sandman. You stumble your way up the stairs—leaning against the bannister on your way up.

Tired…so tired…too tired.

Marching up, you finally reached your bedroom and plopped yourself atop your bed. The mixture of cool and warm temperatures overwhelm you as the texture of the linen absorbs your body heat—the cotton fabric comforting you. Drifting off, you only lasted seconds upon laying down when everything suddenly goes to black.

So sleepy…

Taglist: @strxwbloody • @nshmrarki • @aquariushiiiii • @addictedtohobi • @nuriicata • @lilyuwon • @aanniikkaa •

#jay imagines #enha jay #jay hard thoughts #jay hard hours #jay enhypen #enhypen jay #jay x reader #yandere enhypen #yandere enha #Jay yandere #yahdere enhypen imagines #enhypen imagines #enhypen smut

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yukioos · 23 hours ago

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TWO OF HEARTS

SUMMARY: ashley graham x reader x leon kennedy // leon and ashley try to gain your love in spain through various acts.

WARNINGS: not proofread, mentions of ashley’s kidnapping (not by reader or leon), jealousy, reader’s really unaware of how they’ve fallen head both like her, ashley and leon don’t really like each other

AUTHORS NOTE: sorry i’ve been so inactive! i’ve been drowning in homework lately, but i had no homework today so i decided to write! i’ll try to be more active in the future, but anyway, here’s my first leon/ashley writing! send asks if you want some more content about either one of them :3 this is 0.6k words, but not really a full on oneshot?? just ideas

when you and leon get sent by the president to rescue his daughter from a village in spain, your friend decides it’s the perfect time to get closer to you. although the mission is supposed to be all serious, considering you’re dealing with the president’s daughter, he can’t help but notice you’re oblivious to his advances and compliments.

unfortunately, as he attempts to get to know you better, you keep the objective in your head: find and save ashley. of course, it’s always good to stay focused on the task, but he wishes you’d have more fun at the time.

another thing that would be a pain in his ass at times was ashley. for some reason, she’s taken a liking to you as well and trails behind you like a lost puppy. she’s always complimenting you, whether it’s about your skills or your outfit, or how you can lift something heavier than two times her weight.

all those words from her make leon’s blood boil. he has a job to do, but she isn’t making it any easier.

however, he can’t blame her for finding herself attracted to you. you’re everything anyone could ever want, the most perfect thing, sculptured by god himself.

leon tries to gain your attention by laying his hand on your waist or hip, occasionally rubbing the space with his thumb. of course, he likes to protect you because it makes him feel masculine, and he can be depended on. sometimes he tells little jokes just to see your eyes squint, especially in a high-stress situation. he places his jacket over your shoulder when he sees a single hair on your arm perk up, or goosebumps form on your arms or legs. he always feels a surge of pride flow through him once he sees his dark brown coat on your body.

ashley, however, isn’t too fond of leon’s actions. she’s thankful he’s taking part in saving her, but prefers to be a few steps behind you instead. she’s always chatting your ear off and smiling at you sweetly, using her manners whenever you do something kind for her (leon tells her that you’re just doing your job, and she always rolls her eyes when he makes that comment). she always blushes and giggles when you gently place a hand on her back, guiding her where she needs to be, like a schoolgirl talking to her crush on the phone. being kidnapped by a cult was traumatizing, but she hated the thought of returning to her father and never seeing you again, supposing you’d be busy on other important missions. maybe she’ll ask her father to invite you over for dinner so she can properly thank you.

the unspoken rivalry between the blondes grows far too strong, one will grin as the other crosses their arms or scoffs when they’re not feeling noticed by you. they’ll both be shoulder-to-shoulder with you, ashley’s head tilting as she looks deep into your eyes, trying to flirt with you. meanwhile, leon will stay silent and tell you what the next task should be, all with a large arm around your waist.

you’ll compliment ashley on her adorable skirt, asking her where she got it, and she’ll respond with a cheery smile on her face. within a second, she’ll send a smirk towards leon, and his expression hardens as he glares at her.

your obliviousness frustrates them both, even telling you they love you or want to be more than friends would only be a compliment towards you! you’d take it as they see you as an important person in their life, or they want to be best friends. the blonde finds humor in the other’s frustrations, feeling closer to you once the other fails to tell you how they’ve fallen head over heels for you.

#yukioos #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy resident evil #leon kennedy re4 #resident evil #resident evil 4 #resident evil 4 remake #re4 remake #re4r leon #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy x you

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fioredeciliego · 1 day ago

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Accidental Confessions

The auditorium hummed with anticipation as Y/N settled into her seat beside Rei, folding her arms comfortably. The room was packed with freshmen eagerly taking in their first taste of university life, but she was hardly paying attention to the introductory speeches. Her friends were all around her, immersed in their own excited chatter: Jiwon and Rei kept stealing small, affectionate glances, Yujin playfully teased a blushing Wonyoung, and Gaeul was scrolling through her phone, occasionally nudging Y/N to show her funny photos she’d saved.

Y/N couldn’t help but smile at her friends' obvious happiness. It was almost laughable how quickly things had fallen into place on day one—new classes, new people, new possibilities. Still, she stayed grounded, focused on what they’d come here to do. Medicine. The program was reputed for being grueling, so keeping her head down and blending in felt like a safe plan.

But as the room began to quiet down, her attention was snagged by a shift in the crowd near the auditorium entrance. Her gaze landed on a new group making their way down the aisle, effortlessly drawing the attention of nearly everyone in the room.

Jimin led them.

Y/N had heard about Jimin from passing conversations on orientation day. A sophomore in the medical program, Jimin was known not only for her academic ability but also for her popularity on campus. She was the kind of person others naturally gravitated towards, with an air of confidence that set her apart. Jimin’s friends followed close behind, talking and laughing among themselves, but it was Jimin who seemed to capture the room with ease, even before she reached her seat.

Y/N couldn’t quite place what it was about her that held her focus. Maybe it was the smooth, unbothered way she moved, or the casual glances she tossed toward familiar faces, like she was already at home here. Her clothes were simple, yet every detail looked effortlessly put together. People had a lot to say about her—stories ranging from her perfect grades to her rumored love life—and as Y/N watched her, she could see why.

“Ah, already captivated by the upperclassmen, are we?” Gaeul’s teasing tone jolted Y/N from her thoughts. Y/N brushed it off with a shake of her head, but as she looked back, something unexpected happened.

Jimin was staring directly at her.

The gaze was cool and observant, and Y/N’s breath hitched as their eyes met. It was like being caught off guard by a flash of lightning—sudden, intense, and impossible to ignore. Y/N expected Jimin to look away, but instead, Jimin’s lips curved into a small, almost private smile, a hint of mischief lighting her expression.

Y/N’s pulse kicked up, and she felt a sudden flush creeping up her neck. A smirk? It was barely there, but the way Jimin’s gaze lingered for an extra beat before turning back to her friends left Y/N feeling as if she’d been drawn into a secret she didn’t fully understand.

“Nothing, huh?” Rei’s voice was closer, her tone knowingly playful.

Y/N scoffed, feigning a dismissive wave of her hand. “She just…looked over here,” she muttered, though her mind was racing with questions she didn’t know how to answer.

“Looked over here?” Rei raised a brow, lips quirking in amusement. “Looked over here how? Because from where I’m sitting, it looked a lot like staring.”

Gaeul, catching onto the exchange, leaned in with a smirk of her own. “Staring and smirking,” she added. “Don’t think she does that for just anyone.”

Y/N laughed it off, hoping her friends wouldn’t notice the color rising to her cheeks. “I think you’re all just bored,” she said, but she could still feel the residual warmth of Jimin’s gaze, like a phantom touch lingering on her skin. Forcing herself to turn away, she stared down at her hands, trying to will her heartbeat back to normal.

As the orientation continued, Y/N occasionally found herself glancing back in Jimin’s direction, half-convinced she was imagining things. But each time she looked, Jimin seemed completely focused on her friends, laughing at something Aeri was saying or nodding along with a calm expression as Yizhuo gestured animatedly beside her. Y/N told herself she’d imagined that whole moment, that maybe Jimin was simply lost in thought and accidentally looked her way.

But deep down, she knew that wasn’t it. Jimin’s gaze had been far too deliberate, and that subtle, knowing smirk had seemed almost…calculated, as if it was meant to leave her feeling exactly the way she did now—off-balance and uncharacteristically flustered.

“Y/N, you’re zoning out again,” Gaeul nudged her shoulder, snapping her back to the present.

“Right,” Y/N replied, blinking herself out of her thoughts and forcing herself to focus on the faculty members now introducing the semester’s course load and expectations. She tried to take in the information as the dean highlighted the program’s rigor and upcoming assignments, but her mind kept drifting back to that brief, charged moment.

She glanced back at her friends, watching as Jiwon leaned into Rei’s shoulder, and Yujin and Wonyoung shared a small smile, the kinds of looks that spoke of something unspoken and deeply mutual. Y/N had always been slightly baffled by these things—by the way some people could connect instantly, how a single look could change the whole atmosphere.

But sitting here now, with the heat of Jimin’s gaze still lingering like an invisible thread between them, she thought maybe, for the first time, she understood.

After orientation the girls decided to head out near campus to eat. The café was buzzing with the lively chatter of students, its walls lined with posters advertising clubs, study groups, and all kinds of university events. Y/N sat in the middle of the café’s cozy corner with her friends, sipping an iced coffee and feeling the weight of the day slowly lift. Jiwon and Rei were huddled together, heads close as they shared some inside joke, while Wonyoung and Yujin debated over which study group was actually useful for their biochemistry class. Gaeul, ever the people-watcher, scanned the room for familiar faces while picking at a muffin.

“So…” Y/N started, not quite meeting anyone’s eyes as she stirred her drink absently. “Did anyone…um, notice that sophomore from orientation? Jimin, I think?”

It was a casual question—at least, she hoped it sounded that way. She’d spent half the morning trying to shake off that lingering, half-dazed feeling from her brief encounter with Jimin. Maybe talking about it would somehow make it feel less…intense.

Gaeul’s head snapped around so fast Y/N thought she might get whiplash. Her friend’s eyes widened as she broke into a grin. “Oh? So you did notice her.”

Y/N tried to shrug it off, but Rei and Jiwon had already leaned in, their faces lighting up with an interest far too intense for her comfort.

“She’s cool, I guess,” Y/N said quickly, trying to sound casual. “I just thought she seemed…you know, confident. Unbothered.”

“Confident and unbothered?” Rei repeated, exchanging a sly glance with Gaeul. “And what else? Tall, dark, and mysterious?”

“She does have that vibe,” Jiwon chimed in, winking. “And someone here is clearly into it.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, desperately trying to ignore the heat creeping up her neck. “No, I’m just saying…like, objectively, she’s cool. That’s all.”

“Uh-huh,” Gaeul leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms as she studied Y/N with a grin. “Is that why you stared at her the whole time during orientation?”

Y/N’s mouth fell open, and she sputtered a quick defense. “I didn’t stare! You’re imagining things.”

But Gaeul was relentless, leaning in closer, eyes gleaming with amusement. “Oh, sure, because you just ‘accidentally’ brought her up and just ‘casually’ called her cool.” She exchanged an exaggerated glance with Rei. “Do you think we should tell Y/N what the first stage of a crush looks like, or…?”

“First stage?” Y/N huffed, crossing her arms, though her cheeks were on fire. “Please. It’s not like that. She just…made an impression, that’s all.”

“Oh, an impression, huh?” Rei teased, putting her chin in her hands as if deeply interested. “Did it come with a smirk and a little eye contact?”

Y/N tried to hold her composure, but the way her friends were zeroing in on every detail made it nearly impossible. “You’re all ridiculous,” she mumbled, her tone a bit too defensive to be convincing.Wonyoung decided to step in, reaching across the table to give Y/N’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “Alright, alright, everyone, let’s give her a break. She just thought Jimin was cool, that’s all. Right, Y/N?”

Y/N breathed a sigh of relief, grateful to have someone on her side. “Yes, exactly. Thank you, Wonyoung.”

But then Wonyoung shot her a mischievous grin, shrugging her shoulders as she added, “Not that I blame you, though. If Jimin had looked at me like that, I’d probably be talking about her, too.”

Y/N’s relief melted into exasperation as Wonyoung’s words set the rest of the table off again.

Jiwon laughed, nudging Rei. “See, Wonyoung gets it. That girl had some serious energy at orientation, like she knew everyone was watching her. It was kind of impossible not to look.”

Gaeul nodded sagely, pretending to be thoughtful. “And you know, for someone who was supposedly just ‘making an observation,’ Y/N here sure remembers a lot of details about Jimin.”

Y/N shook her head, trying to ignore the traitorous grin tugging at her lips. “I swear, you’re all being so dramatic about this.”

“Hey, don’t fight it,” Wonyoung teased with a grin. “I mean, if I got that kind of attention from Jimin, I’d probably be just as starry-eyed.”

“Starry-eyed? I am not starry-eyed!” Y/N protested, but even she could tell it was a weak argument.

The group broke into laughter, and Y/N hid her face in her hands, laughing despite herself. She knew they were mostly teasing, but the way her friends looked at her—like they could see right through her act—made her wonder if maybe, deep down, there was something there. Something she hadn’t quite let herself acknowledge yet.

Rei gave her a gentle nudge, still grinning. “Just admit it. There’s a spark there, and you know it.”

Y/N peeked out from behind her hands, shaking her head as she tried to brush off their words. “It’s not like that,” she insisted, but her friends were all smiles, too entertained to believe a single word she said.

“Sure, sure,” Gaeul said, waving her off with a smirk. “Whatever you say. But remember this conversation when you’re head over heels and can’t deny it anymore.”

Y/N tried to fight back a smile but lost the battle as their laughter filled the café, mingling with the clinking cups and soft hum of music.

-- Later that week, Y/N found herself in the anatomy lab, her nerves firing on all cylinders. She and her friends had spent the last few days studying the basics, but the hands-on part of anatomy felt different—more real and, in a way, daunting. Now, under the stark fluorescent lights and surrounded by gleaming tools and models, her mind went blank as she tried to organize the instruments in front of her.

She fumbled with the scalpels, picking one up, then another, unsure if she’d even grabbed the right tool. Flipping through her notes in a mild panic, she barely noticed someone approaching until a smooth, amused voice cut through her concentration.

“Are you really going to need all five of those scalpels?”

Y/N looked up sharply, her breath catching as she met a familiar gaze. It was Jimin, standing just a few feet away with a casual ease, arms crossed as she observed Y/N’s struggle with barely concealed amusement.

“Uh…” Y/N stumbled over her words, feeling her cheeks heat up. “I, um, just wanted to… be prepared?”

Jimin raised an eyebrow, her mouth tilting into a small smirk. “I see. So you’re the freshman who can’t keep her scalpels straight?”

A nervous laugh escaped Y/N as she looked down at the cluster of tools on her tray. “Guilty, I guess.”

Jimin chuckled, reaching over to pick up the one scalpel Y/N actually needed. Her fingers brushed lightly over Y/N’s as she handed it over, her eyes twinkling. “This one should do just fine, trust me. You don’t want to overdo it on your first go.”

Y/N let out an embarrassed laugh. “I thought being over-prepared was a good thing.”

“Well, maybe,” Jimin said with a playful shrug, studying Y/N. “But you seem like you’d do fine even if you were under-prepared.”

Y/N blinked, thrown off. “Thanks, I think?”

Jimin chuckled, her gaze lingering. “Y/N, right?”

Y/N nodded, surprised she even remembered her name. “Yeah. And you’re Jimin?”

“Sure am, darling” Jimin said with a smirk that seemed to linger just a second too long.

Y/N’s cheeks went pink at the casual nickname, but she tried to play it off, laughing nervously. She felt her heart stutter slightly, the weight of Jimin’s gaze and her easy confidence wrapping around her. She tried to gather herself, focusing back on the task at hand. “So, uh… do you volunteer in this lab a lot?”

Jimin shrugged, picking up a second scalpel and holding it up to the light. “I’m a second year, so I’ve been through it already. Figured I’d offer a little wisdom for the fresh meat.” She gave Y/N a pointed look. “Or maybe just the cute ones.”

Y/N blinked, thrown once again by the playful undertone in Jimin’s words. “Uh… well, I appreciate the wisdom. I’d probably be lost without it.”

Jimin smiled, looking far too pleased. “Happy to help. Though I think you’re selling yourself short,” she said, leaning a little closer with an almost conspiratorial grin. “Besides, if you get lost again, I’ll be around. Just call, and I’ll make sure you don’t get overwhelmed.”

Y/N smiled, caught off guard by the offer but genuinely grateful. “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”

Jimin leaned back, a glimmer of something unreadable in her expression, and gave a little wave before heading back to her own lab station. “Good luck, cutie,” she called over her shoulder with one last smirk.

As she disappeared into the crowd of students, Y/N felt her cheeks heat up all over again. Did she imagine the nickname? And the way Jimin’s gaze had seemed to linger just a second too long?

Y/N shook her head, trying to brush it off. It was probably nothing, just a friendly sophomore helping out a freshman… right?

But even as she went back to her work, a tiny part of her couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, there was more to it than that.

The steady hum of activity in the campus library was underscored by the soft scratching of pens and the quiet turning of pages. Late afternoon light filtered through the windows, casting a warm glow over the rows of bookshelves and study tables. Y/N was nestled at a large table with her friends, surrounded by open notebooks and highlighters as they reviewed the latest lecture notes for their anatomy class. A pile of flashcards sat between her and Rei, who was currently quizzing herself with intense focus, mouthing terms under her breath.

Y/N leaned over to Gaeul, whispering, “Hey, I just realized I don’t have that anatomy reference book we need.”

Gaeul glanced up from her notes. “You mean Anatomy Essentials? Isn’t that, like, a required textbook?”

“I thought I had it! I probably left it in my dorm,” Y/N said, sighing. “And I really don’t want to walk back just to get it.”

Rei nudged her, an eyebrow raised in interest. “Couldn’t hurt to take a break, right? Maybe you’ll run into a certain helpful sophomore on the way.”

Y/N felt her face flush as she remembered her earlier conversation with Jimin in the lab, and she shot Rei a look. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

Wonyoung, who had been casually eavesdropping from across the table, smiled mischievously. “I don’t see why she should. You were blushing like a tomato when you told us about it!”

“I was not!” Y/N protested, though her cheeks were already warming again.

“Oh, you were,” Gaeul chimed in, hiding her grin. “And who could blame you? Sophomore Jimin, practically a med school legend, calls you cute on day one? I’d be flustered, too.”

“Okay, fine. Maybe she’s… kind of interesting,” Y/N admitted, trying to downplay her reaction even as her friends’ knowing smiles widened.

Rei let out a satisfied sigh. “There it is. Our Y/N has a crush.”

Before Y/N could protest, Gaeul leaned in closer, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. “Tell us more about what she said. Come on, give us every detail.”

Y/N hesitated, casting a glance around to make sure nobody nearby was listening in. She couldn’t quite help herself; Jimin had left such an impression, and part of her wanted to share it. “Okay, fine. So she comes over while I’m struggling to find the right scalpel and makes this whole thing about how I’m a ‘freshman who can’t keep her scalpels straight.’ And then she, um… she started calling me cutie.”

Wonyoung raised her eyebrows. “That sounds… pretty flirty, actually.”

“Yeah, I thought so too, but…” Y/N trailed off, biting her lip. “I mean, she’s just being friendly, right?”

Rei shook her head with an exaggerated sigh. “She calls you cute, offers you help, stays in your space a bit longer than necessary, and you think it’s just friendly?”

“Sometimes I think Y/N could be oblivious even if someone put a neon sign in front of her,” Gaeul teased, her eyes twinkling. “I think Jimin was trying to make it obvious.”

Wonyoung gave a supportive pat on Y/N’s hand, though there was a teasing sparkle in her eye as well. “Hey, it’s okay, Y/N. Maybe she’s just the kind of person who’s friendly to everyone—though, from what I hear, Jimin’s a bit picky about who she gives attention to.”

Before Y/N could respond, a quiet but unmistakable voice spoke from behind her. “Hey, Y/N.”

She turned, slightly surprised to find Jimin herself standing at the end of their table, a casual smile on her face. Her friends, including Aespa members Minjeong, Aeri, and Yizhuo, were nearby, waiting by a row of bookshelves.

Jimin held a book in her hand, looking effortlessly at ease. “I overheard you mention needing Anatomy Essentials? You can borrow mine, if you want,” she offered, extending the book with a slight smile. “I already know all the material, so I won’t be needing it.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, and she took the book, feeling warmth seep into her cheeks. “Oh—thank you! I didn’t realize you were so close by.”

Jimin tilted her head, her smile growing just slightly. “It’s a small library, and I just happened to be in the right spot.”

Y/N’s friends, who had been quietly watching the exchange, exchanged barely concealed glances of amusement. Rei’s hand came up to her mouth, as if she were suppressing a laugh, while Wonyoung nudged Gaeul under the table, her eyes practically gleaming.

“Hey, Jimin!” Wonyoung said, breaking the silence. “Thanks for helping our girl out.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble.” Jimin shrugged easily, but her gaze didn’t stray far from Y/N. “Besides, it seems like she could use all the help she can get with anatomy.”

Y/N let out a nervous laugh, feeling Jimin’s words settle over her. “Yeah, I’m still getting used to it.”

Aeri, who had walked over with Jimin, joined in, smiling at Y/N with a raised eyebrow. “Don’t worry, we’ve all been there. Well, maybe not Jimin,” she teased, nudging her friend. “She practically breezed through first year.”

Jimin waved it off with a modest grin. “I wouldn’t say that. I had help too, now and then.”

“From your many admirers?” Minjeong chimed in with a smirk, causing Yizhuo to stifle a laugh.

Jimin shot her friends a look, though she didn’t seem bothered. “Maybe,” she said, her eyes flickering back to Y/N, “but I think they’ve got nothing on Y/N here.”

The warmth in Y/N’s cheeks intensified as her friends snickered under their breaths. Trying to keep her composure, she managed a small laugh. “Thanks, I guess?”

Jimin gave her one last, lingering smile. “You’re welcome. And, you know, I’m around if you ever need a study partner.”

Y/N’s friends practically vibrated with excitement, but she just managed to nod, heart fluttering. “I’ll… keep that in mind. Thanks again, Jimin.”

With a parting wave, Jimin walked back to her table, Minjeong and Yizhuo leaning close and whispering to her as they all glanced back at Y/N’s table, clearly entertained by the exchange. Y/N’s friends immediately turned on her, their eyes wide with delight.

“She practically offered herself up as a personal tutor,” Rei said, fanning herself. “If that’s not interest, I don’t know what is!”

“Yeah, Y/N, did you hear the part about a ‘study partner’?” Gaeul said, nudging her. “Please tell me you’re not going to let this chance go.”

Y/N was too flustered to respond, her mind replaying Jimin’s lingering gaze and that easy, confident smile. She finally managed a shrug, though her eyes were shining with excitement she couldn’t entirely hide. “She’s just being nice,” she said, almost out of habit. Yujin let’s her head fall on top of the table with a loud bang.

Wonyoung put a hand on Y/N’s shoulder, giving her a gentle squeeze. “Y/N, we’re going to get you to realize what’s happening here. Jimin likes you, and you’re going to be the last person to figure it out if you keep brushing it off.”

Y/N laughed, unable to deny the thrill in her chest. “I’ll try to keep it in mind. I mean… it is kind of nice having someone offer to help.”

“‘Nice’?” Yujin echoed, raising an eyebrow. “Y/N, this is probably the most sought-after second-year flirting with you. ‘Nice’ doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

Wonyoung leaned in, a soft, amused smile on her face. “And when you finally realize it, we’re all going to be right here, watching it unfold.”

Y/N felt a pang of warmth, knowing her friends were just as thrilled as she was, even if she wasn’t entirely ready to admit it to herself. As they settled back into their notes, her mind drifted to the book Jimin had handed her, the warmth of Jimin’s gaze still lingering in her memory.

“Maybe,” Y/N murmured, glancing down at the borrowed textbook, “it’s a bit more than nice.”

After an intense first week of university, Y/N felt like her brain could use a hard reset. The thought of home—the smell of her mom’s cooking, the comfort of her own bed, and maybe even a bit of Leeseo’s playful pestering—was a welcome change of pace. The train ride home was calming, a chance to breathe as campus life faded into the background, replaced by familiar sights and memories.

When Y/N finally stepped through the door, she was greeted by the smell of something delicious simmering in the kitchen. But before she could even set her bag down, a loud squeal echoed through the house.

“Y/N!” Leeseo came barreling down the hallway, a blur of energy as she threw her arms around her sister. “I thought you’d never come back! College hasn’t, like, made you too cool for us, has it?”

Y/N rolled her eyes and laughed, returning Leeseo’s hug. “Too cool for you? Never. I’ve actually missed you, believe it or not.”

“Oh, I definitely believe it,” Leeseo replied, pulling Y/N down the hall and into her room without missing a beat. “Now, spill everything. I want to know everything about college life, your friends, your classes, the parties you’re probably going to…"

Y/N chuckled, flopping onto her bed and watching Leeseo plop down beside her, eyes wide with excitement and curiosity. She knew there was no way around it. “It’s been… a lot, honestly. But good! There are great people, and the classes are intense, but I think I’m handling it. My friends and I are figuring things out together.”

Leeseo’s eyes narrowed, a playful smirk appearing on her face. “Good people, huh? Do any of those ‘good people’ happen to be… a little extra good?”

Y/N’s face warmed as she realized where this was heading. “Leeseo…”

“Ah-ha! So there is someone!” Leeseo practically squealed, bouncing on the bed. “Who is she? What’s her name? Does she have a reputation? Oh my gosh, tell me everything!”

With a resigned sigh, Y/N glanced at her sister, who looked like she was practically vibrating with excitement. “Okay, there might be… someone. Her name is Jimin. She’s a sophomore. We kind of ran into each other a couple of times this week.”

Leeseo’s eyebrows shot up, her eyes twinkling with interest. “Jimin, huh? And she’s a sophomore? Upperclassmen vibes? This sounds dangerous already.” She leaned in, as if trying to read Y/N’s thoughts.

“Leeseo, come on. It’s really not like that. She’s just… nice, I guess. Friendly.” Y/N paused, realizing how inadequate the word “friendly” sounded when describing Jimin’s smirks and teasing looks. “Maybe a little flirty.”

“Oh, I knew it!” Leeseo practically shouted, laughing with delight. “So, tell me—what does ‘a little flirty’ mean in Jimin terms?”

Y/N hesitated, memories of their last exchange flickering in her mind. “She… well, she teases me. She called me ‘darling’ instead of my name, stuff like that.”

“‘Darling’? Oh, Y/N, that’s definitely not just ‘friendly.’” Leeseo’s eyebrows knitted together, her expression shifting as she absorbed this. “Look, all I’m saying is, be careful. College sophomores, especially the popular ones… they’re not always serious, you know?”

“Oh, I don’t think she’s interested like that,” Y/N said, though a part of her was still turning over those little moments she shared with Jimin. “Besides, I barely know her. I don’t even know if she was serious.”

Leeseo sighed dramatically, but her eyes softened. “I just don’t want you to get hurt, Y/N. College girls—especially the confident ones—can be hard to read.”

Y/N smiled, nudging Leeseo’s shoulder. “You know, you sound just like mom right now.”

“Maybe. But I also know what it’s like to fall for someone’s charm.” Leeseo grinned, a tiny blush coloring her cheeks. “Actually… I have someone I’ve been meaning to tell you about.”

Y/N’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Oh? Do tell.”

Leeseo tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, glancing down for a second before looking back up at Y/N with a shy smile. “Her name’s Eunchae. She’s in my grade, and we’ve been… kind of seeing each other. I wanted to make sure it was real before I said anything.”

Y/N’s face lit up. “Leeseo! That’s amazing! Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I don’t know… I guess I just didn’t want to jinx it.” Leeseo’s eyes shone as she spoke, and her happiness was so genuine that it made Y/N’s heart swell.

Y/N reached over, taking her sister’s hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I’m so happy for you, Leeseo. I can’t wait to meet her.”

Leeseo’s smile widened, and she looked away, embarrassed. “Well, about that… you’re actually going to meet her tonight. I invited her over.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, and she laughed. “Already? You’re fast, little sis.”

“Oh, stop! She’s been dying to meet you too,” Leeseo replied, tossing a pillow at her sister with a laugh. “Just… try not to embarrass me, okay?”

The doorbell rang, and Leeseo’s face instantly brightened. “That’ll be her! Be nice!”

Y/N smirked, following Leeseo to the front door. When they opened it, a girl with a bright smile and warm, expressive eyes stood on the porch, looking both eager and slightly shy. She waved at Y/N, offering a friendly smile.

“Hi! I’m Eunchae,” she said, glancing between Leeseo and Y/N.

“Hi, Eunchae! It’s nice to finally meet you,” Y/N replied warmly, giving her a quick hug. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Apparently, my sister’s got good taste.”

Eunchae laughed, her cheeks turning pink as she shot Leeseo a playful glance. “Well, I’d like to think so.”

Leeseo rolled her eyes, pulling Eunchae further into the house. “Come on, Eunchae, let’s sit down.”

As they settled in the living room, Y/N couldn’t help but notice the way Leeseo and Eunchae glanced at each other, the quiet ease and joy between them. She felt a pang of nostalgia, remembering when things had felt just as simple and new.

“Alright, Y/N,” Leeseo said suddenly, snapping her out of her thoughts. “I know I’m usually the protective one, but I’ve got one request: let me meet this Jimin someday. Just to see if she’s worth all this thinking you’re doing.”

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head. “Oh, no. It’s really not like that. She’s… just someone I met. I wouldn’t even call her a friend yet; more like an acquaintance.”

Leeseo raised an eyebrow, giving her a look of playful disbelief. “Just an acquaintance? Y/N, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk about an ‘acquaintance’ this much before. Are you sure there isn’t a tiny, tiny bit more to it?”

Y/N paused, searching for the right words. “I don’t know… she’s intriguing, I guess? But it’s hard to say what her intentions are. It’s all just been casual run-ins and some light teasing. I can’t even tell if she’s actually interested or just… like that with everyone.”

Leeseo tilted her head, considering this. “Hmm. Well, college girls like her can be like that sometimes—charming and mysterious but hard to read. Just be careful, okay?”

Y/N smiled, grateful for her sister’s protectiveness but feeling a bit unsure herself. “Yeah, maybe. For now, though, I’m just letting things happen. If anything comes of it, you’ll both be the first to know.”

Leeseo nodded approvingly, relaxing back into the couch. “Good answer. That’s my big sister, smart and cautious,” she said with a teasing wink.

-- The weekend had flown by, and before she knew it, Y/N was back on campus, wading through her Monday routine. Her thoughts drifted now and then to her family and Leeseo’s “little sister advice,” which had been circling in her mind like a catchy tune.

She was weaving through the common area, textbooks hugged to her chest, when she heard a familiar voice call out.

“Y/N!”

She turned to find Jimin leaning against a nearby column, a confident smile tugging at her lips. Her presence was striking, standing out even in the busy hallway. Y/N felt her pulse quicken as she managed a small smile and walked over.

“Hey, Jimin,” she greeted, trying to sound casual despite the flutter in her chest.

“Hey yourself.” Jimin’s gaze lingered, and then she tilted her head with a playful smile. “So, my friends and I are throwing a party on Friday night for students from all years. Thought I’d see if you and your friends wanted to come.”

Y/N’s eyebrows raised slightly, feeling a jolt of surprise. “Oh… that sounds fun. Are you inviting… everyone?” she asked, her voice unintentionally hesitant.

Jimin chuckled, reading between the lines. “Not everyone,” she replied smoothly, eyes glinting. “Just the people who seem like they might be able to keep up.”

“Oh,” Y/N managed, feeling a little flustered. “Well, yeah, I think we could do that.”

“Perfect.” Jimin’s smile deepened, as if satisfied with Y/N’s answer. “It’s at the usual spot near the student center. Starts around eight, but feel free to come fashionably late,” she added with a wink. “Oh, and don’t forget to dress up. It’s not every day we get a chance to look our best, right?”

Y/N laughed nervously, trying to match Jimin’s relaxed confidence. “Got it. I’ll let everyone know.”

“Great,” Jimin said, her eyes lingering on Y/N for a beat longer than necessary. “Looking forward to seeing you there.”

With one last smile, Jimin turned and strolled down the hall, leaving Y/N standing there, trying to piece together what had just happened. Did Jimin really mean it for her specifically, or was this just an invitation in passing?

As soon as Jimin disappeared around the corner, Y/N’s thoughts snapped back to her friends. She quickly sent a text to let them know about the party, her fingers slightly shaky on the screen.

That evening, Y/N and the rest of the group met up at their usual café. The excitement in the air was almost palpable, as if the invitation itself was a sign of something bigger.

Wonyoung’s eyes sparkled as she read Y/N’s text out loud to the group for the third time. “She said just the people who seem like they can keep up. Y/N, if that doesn’t sound like an invitation meant for you, I don’t know what does.”

“Seriously, Y/N,” Rei chimed in, grinning widely. “Do you know how rare it is to get invited by Jimin herself? And not just invited—she wants you to dress up.”

“Maybe she just wants everyone to look nice,” Y/N mumbled, feeling her cheeks heat up. “She probably said that to everyone she invited.”

“Or she’s making sure you show up looking extra cute,” Gaeul teased, nudging her playfully. “I don’t know why you’re overthinking this.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, trying to hide her grin. “You guys are getting ahead of yourselves. It’s just a party. No big deal.”

“Sure,” Wonyoung said, smirking. “It’s not a big deal that Jimin invited you to her party and made a point of wanting you to look nice. No big deal at all.”

“Look,” Y/N sighed, “I just don’t want to assume anything. She’s probably just being friendly.”

“Or flirty,” Yujin interjected with a smirk, sharing a look with Wonyoung. “Just admit it, Y/N—you’re a little bit curious about her.”

Y/N hesitated, trying to find a way out of admitting anything. But her friends weren’t having it.

Rei leaned over, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Come on, Y/N. It’s a party. You’ll get to know Jimin better, and besides, it’s the perfect excuse to look amazing.”

“Fine, I’ll dress up,” Y/N relented with a sigh, fighting a smile. “But I’m only doing it so you guys stop giving me such a hard time.”

The group cheered, sharing ideas about what she could wear, swapping makeup tips, and even planning out the details down to Y/N’s shoes.

The night of the party arrived, and the lively hum of music and laughter filled the air long before Y/N and her friends stepped into the house. She felt a blend of excitement and nerves, her friends’ confidence pushing her forward even as she wondered what tonight might bring.

Y/N had gone all out for the occasion. Her dress, a short, fitted number in a striking midnight blue, hugged her in all the right places, shimmering subtly in the lights as she moved. She’d kept her accessories minimal—a delicate necklace and earrings that caught the light whenever she turned her head—but it was enough to make her feel special. Her friends hadn’t stopped admiring her look since they’d met up to head over.

As Y/N stepped through the threshold, she immediately felt the warmth of the party envelop her. The air was thick with the scent of snacks and the sound of music pulsing through the crowd. People were scattered around the living room, chatting, laughing, and dancing, and the atmosphere was electric with energy.

Spotting Jimin across the room, Y/N's heart skipped a beat. Jimin looked effortlessly cool as ever, dressed down in oversized, light-wash jeans that draped over her chunky white sneakers, paired with a simple black cropped tank top that showcased her toned midriff. Her dark hair was styled in loose waves, framing her face and giving her a carefree, yet put-together appearance. The way she moved through the crowd exuded confidence, and Y/N found herself momentarily mesmerized.

It wasn’t long after she arrived that Y/N felt a tap on her shoulder. Turning, she found herself face-to-face with Jimin, whose relaxed smile sent a small shiver down her spine.

"Hey, glad you could make it,” Jimin said, her voice smooth and warm as she held Y/N’s gaze, the corners of her mouth tilting up slightly.

Y/N’s heartbeat quickened. “Yeah, thanks for inviting me,” she replied, trying to keep her cool.

Jimin’s eyes flicked over her, her gaze lingering for a moment longer than expected. “Looks like you took my advice on dressing up,” she said, a hint of amusement in her tone. “Not that I’m surprised. You look… really nice.”

Heat rose in Y/N’s cheeks, and she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, laughing softly. “Thanks. You look pretty good yourself,” she replied, hoping her voice didn’t betray how flustered she was.

Jimin chuckled, lifting two drinks from a nearby table and handing one to Y/N. “You know,” she started, leaning in a little closer so her voice wouldn’t get lost in the music, “there’s someone interesting I’ve noticed in the freshman class.”

“Oh?” Y/N asked, sipping her drink to disguise the nervous smile threatening to break out. “Who’s that?”

Jimin’s gaze softened, a playful glint dancing in her eyes. “Just someone who… caught my eye,” she replied, her voice casual but her expression intriguing. “Smart, funny, kind of oblivious sometimes.”

Y/N’s heart did a small leap, but she shrugged, taking Jimin’s words at face value. “That’s nice,” she said, assuming it was probably just friendly conversation. “Freshman class is full of interesting people.”

Jimin’s eyes softened with a hint of exasperation, her lips tilting up into a smirk. “Yeah, I guess it is,” she replied, giving Y/N a playful nudge. “But I think this one is a little more interesting than the rest. You should get to know her better.”

“Maybe,” Y/N replied, a hint of teasing in her voice. “But I’m not so sure she’d want to get to know me.”

“Oh, I think she would,” Jimin said, her tone flirtatious as she leaned closer, her warm breath sending shivers down Y/N's spine. “After all, who wouldn’t want to be friends with you?”

Y/N laughed nervously, the compliment making her cheeks flush. “You really think so?”

“Definitely,” Jimin said, her smile brightening. “You’re pretty unforgettable.”

Just then, a loud cheer erupted from the crowd nearby, breaking the moment. Jimin’s attention momentarily shifted, and Y/N seized the chance to collect herself.

“Want me to get us some drinks?” Jimin asked, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

“Sure! I could use one,” Y/N replied, trying to play it cool, even as her heart raced.

“Alright, don’t go anywhere!” Jimin winked before she turned and weaved her way through the bustling crowd. Y/N watched her go, feeling a flutter in her chest that she couldn’t quite explain.

Minutes passed, and Y/N found herself glancing toward the kitchen, expecting Jimin to reappear at any moment. But as the seconds stretched into what felt like an eternity, unease began to settle in. What’s taking so long?

Five minutes had come and gone, and still no sign of Jimin. Y/N took a sip of her drink, trying to shake off the nagging worry. It was a party, after all; it wasn’t unusual for people to get distracted. Yet, the more she waited, the more anxious she became.

Finally, unable to quell her curiosity any longer, Y/N decided to check on Jimin. She pushed through the throng of bodies, her heart pounding as she made her way toward the kitchen area. As she approached, she caught sight of Jimin standing near the counter, but her heart dropped as she noticed she was not alone.

Jimin was leaning in close to another freshman girl, their heads nearly touching as they laughed at something shared between them. The scene struck Y/N like a cold wave, the warmth of the party around her fading into a dull roar.

Jimin’s relaxed demeanor and the way she tilted her head back in laughter sent a sharp pang of jealousy through Y/N. She couldn’t help but feel small and unimportant, an outsider watching from the sidelines. The easy chemistry between Jimin and the other girl was undeniable, and Y/N felt a familiar sting in her chest that she had hoped to avoid tonight.

With her heart racing and a knot tightening in her stomach, Y/N turned away, trying to push the unwanted thoughts from her mind. You’ve known her for a week, get ahold of yourself she reminded herself, but the thought felt hollow. She couldn’t deny that a part of her was disappointed, despite knowing Jimin had every right to talk to whomever she pleased.

Y/N made her way back to the dance floor, seeking solace in the vibrant energy of her friends. As she approached, Wonyoung and Yujin were still dancing, their laughter infectious, but Y/N felt out of place.

“Y/N! There you are!” Wonyoung exclaimed, pulling her into a quick spin. “We were wondering where you went! Gaeul is getting some drinks and I think Rei and Jiwon are in the bathroom, doing god knows what”

Y/N forced a smile, trying to shake off the earlier encounter. “Just checking on Jimin,” she said, her voice casual despite the turmoil inside. “She’s... busy.”

“Busy how?” Yujin asked, arching an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued.

Y/N shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Just talking to someone else. No big deal.”

Wonyoung looked at her knowingly. “Oh, you mean that girl over there?” She pointed to the corner where Jimin was still chatting with the other freshman. “Looks like they’re having fun.”

Y/N’s heart sank a little further. “Yeah, I guess,” she mumbled, feeling a wave of frustration wash over her. “It’s whatever.”

Yujin exchanged a glance with Wonyoung,

“Forget about her!” Yujin encouraged, her tone lightening as she grabbed Y/N’s hand. “Come dance with us! You’re here to have fun, remember?”

Y/N sighed but knew they were right. She had come to enjoy herself, and standing off to the side worrying about Jimin was not going to change anything. So, with a reluctant nod, she allowed her friends to pull her into the lively crowd, the pulsating music drowning out the worries that still swirled in her mind.

The bass pulsed through the dance floor as Y/N moved to the beat, slowly letting the music drown out her unease. She let herself get lost in the rhythm, and for a moment, she even forgot about Jimin chatting away with that other girl.

“Mind if I join you?” Yunjin’s voice broke through her thoughts, bright and full of confidence. She flashed a smile as Y/N blinked in surprise. Before Y/N could even respond, Yunjin had closed the gap between them, her hands finding a comfortable spot on Y/N’s waist as they started to move together.

Encouraged by Wonyoung and Yujin’s excited cheers, Y/N allowed herself to relax, finding herself caught up in the moment. Yunjin’s playful energy was contagious, and soon enough, they were laughing and dancing like they’d known each other for ages. With every playful flirt Yunjin tossed her way, Y/N felt herself blushing, but she leaned into it, glad for the distraction.

That’s when she felt it—someone watching them. She turned, catching sight of Jimin across the room, her gaze fixed and sharp. Jimin’s usual cool, laid-back demeanor was gone, replaced by something else entirely. Her jaw was set, her arms crossed as she watched Yunjin’s hands slide down to rest on Y/N’s hips, their bodies swaying closer than before.

Jimin pushed through the crowd, her eyes narrowing as she approached. By the time she reached them, Yunjin’s arm was draped over Y/N’s shoulder, and Y/N’s laugh had grown into a carefree smile. But as Jimin stepped right in front of them, Y/N felt the tension spark in the air.

“Hey, Y/N,” Jimin said, her tone measured, but her eyes betrayed a hint of irritation. “Been looking all over for you.”

Y/N hesitated, feeling the tension settle in her stomach. “Oh, um… didn’t mean to make you worry,” she replied, offering a small smile.

But Yunjin, still holding her close, wasn’t about to back down. “You’ve only known her for what, a week? I’m sure she was fine without you, Jimin,” she said with a smirk, her voice laced with a bit too much confidence.

Jimin’s eyes flicked to Yunjin, her gaze hardening. “You’d be surprised,” she replied, her tone calm but edged with something that made Y/N’s pulse quicken. “We’ve actually gotten to know each other pretty well.”

“Oh yeah?” Yunjin shot back, raising an eyebrow as she held Y/N a little tighter. “Well, looks like I’m getting to know her pretty well too.”

The tension between them was palpable, and Y/N felt herself caught right in the middle of it. She looked from Yunjin to Jimin, her heart hammering as the two seemed locked in a silent battle.

Jimin’s gaze never left Yunjin’s as she took a step closer, closing the distance between them. “I think Y/N can speak for herself,” she said coolly, looking at Y/N with an intensity that made her breath hitch. “Don’t you, Y/N?”

Y/N swallowed, feeling the weight of their gazes on her. She was painfully aware of Yunjin’s arm around her and the way Jimin’s eyes held hers with a mix of challenge and something else she couldn’t quite place. “I… um… I was just… dancing,” she stammered, her voice barely audible over the music.

Jimin’s lips tilted into a smirk as if she’d won some unspoken argument. She reached out, gently brushing her fingers along Y/N’s arm, her touch warm and grounding. “Mind if I steal you back?” she asked, her voice soft but laced with something that sent a shiver down Y/N’s spine.

Yunjin scoffed, still unwilling to give in. “You know, Jimin, if you wanted a dance, you could’ve just asked,” she said, challenging. “But it seems like Y/N was having a good time without you.”

Jimin’s eyes darkened, but she didn’t break eye contact. “Funny, I was about to say the same thing to you,” she replied, the corner of her mouth twitching up in a smile that held no warmth.

Y/N felt her cheeks burn as she realized just how intense the moment had become. Her friends had started to gather around, sensing the tension, and she could feel their curious gaze on her. Aeri, Minjeong and Yizhuo had also appeared beside Jimin, each watching the interaction with barely concealed interest.

“Everything alright here?” Aeri asked, her eyes darting between Jimin, Yunjin, and Y/N.

Y/N cleared her throat, suddenly feeling exposed under the watchful eyes of their friends. “Um, yeah, everything’s fine,” she said, giving a nervous laugh as she tried to defuse the tension. “Just… dancing.”

But Jimin’s gaze softened as she looked at her, and a flicker of something vulnerable appeared in her eyes, as if she were silently asking Y/N to choose her. “Y/N,” she said softly, reaching for her hand, “can we talk?”

Yunjin opened her mouth to protest, but Y/N, feeling overwhelmed, gently stepped back from both of them, her heart pounding. “Actually, I think I need some air,” she said quickly, her voice shaky. Without another word, she slipped out of their grasp and wove her way through the crowd, feeling the weight of their gazes on her as she hurried toward the exit.

The cool night air hit her as she stepped outside, her heart racing as she put more distance between herself and the party. Her phone buzzed repeatedly in her hand, and a quick glance revealed several messages from Jimin, each one growing more urgent, and a few from Yunjin as well. But she didn’t have it in her to respond.

She kept walking, her steps quickening until she was finally back at the quiet solace of her dorm. Once inside, she leaned against the door, letting out a long, shaky breath. Ignoring the continuous buzz of her phone, she only replied to a single message—Gaeul’s, who had texted to check in.

I’m safe. Just needed to get away. I’ll see you tomorrow, she typed before shutting off her phone and sinking onto her bed.

Hahaha, fuck.

Y/N screamed into her pillow. --

Y/N lay sprawled out on her bed, staring at her phone. Last night kept replaying in her mind. And all her other interactions with Jimin.

What am I doing? she thought. Why am I even overthinking this? Maybe Jimin was just being friendly, maybe that’s all it was. She’d probably done all those sweet things to dozens of freshmen before. Y/N felt a pang of embarrassment at how easily she’d gotten swept up by it all.

She decided to text her friends and turned on her phone.

Her phone buzzing woke her up of her 10 minute nap.

There is no motherfucking way.

Y/N couldn’t even send her final message before. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Taking a deep breath, she scrambled to check her reflection in the small mirror by the door, smoothing down her hair and pulling herself together. Okay, just act natural. Pretend it’s no big deal. But her hands shook as she finally opened the door.

There stood Jimin, looking effortlessly cool as always, with a casual hoodie and that soft, knowing smile that never failed to make Y/N’s heart flutter. She held up her phone, her gaze flickering between Y/N and the screen. “I believe I got a text meant for someone else?” Her tone was playful, but there was something in her eyes—a glint of curiosity, maybe even amusement.

Heat rushed to Y/N’s face. “Wel! You see!!” She forced a laugh, hoping it didn’t sound as awkward as it felt. “That—that was not for you, obviously. Fuck, I am so sorry-”

Jimin let out a soft laugh, stepping into the room as Y/N shut the door. “It’s okay. Really,” she said, putting her phone away as she looked around the dorm. “I mean, I was a little…surprised, but also—” Her gaze softened, the smile turning sincere. “—I’m kind of glad I got it. Now I know I’m not the only one who’s been feeling something.”

“Hahaha, yeah, of course.” Y/N nodded. Then she blinked. “Wait, what?”

Jimin laughed. “You really are adorable.” She smiled. “I just mean…well, I’ve noticed you, too. I’ve noticed that it’s different, with you.” She paused, as if choosing her words carefully, her eyes never leaving Y/N’s. “And that’s not something I get to feel very often.”

Y/N felt her cheeks heat up, and she immediately looked down at her feet, a flustered laugh bubbling out. “Oh, well, um…” She bit her lip, struggling to form a coherent response. “I didn’t, uh, mean for you to…find out. Like, that. But, um…yeah, that’s…wow. Cool. That’s cool.”

Cool? There is no way brother.

Jimin let out a chuckle, and somehow that made it worse. “Tell you what,” she said, her tone as easygoing as ever. “Why don’t we grab a coffee this weekend? We can pretend I didn’t read that text, and maybe you can tell me more of what’s on your mind. Sounds fair?”

Y/N’s brain struggled to keep up. Coffee? She nodded so enthusiastically she probably looked like a bobblehead. “Yes! I mean, yes, sure, I’m down, sounds nice.”

I need to shut THE FUCK up.

Jimin’s eyes sparkled with amusement as she reached out, giving Y/N’s shoulder a playful nudge. “Relax,” she murmured, her voice soft. “It’s just coffee. No pressure.”

“Right, right, of course,” Y/N stammered, even as her heart pounded against her ribs. “Just…coffee.”

With a warm smile, Jimin lingered for a second, her gaze drifting from Y/N’s eyes to her lips and back up again. The air between them felt charged. Then, almost instinctively, Jimin leaned in, her hand finding Y/N’s waist.

Y/N’s breath hitched, her heart hammering in her chest as Jimin’s face moved closer. She could feel Jimin’s warmth, her soft breath fanning across her skin, and before she could think twice, their lips met in a gentle, lingering kiss. It was soft, tentative—yet filled with a warmth that sent a thrill through her entire body.

When they pulled back, Y/N was too stunned to do anything but stare at Jimin, her cheeks flushed and her mind racing. Jimin’s smile turned a little shyer, her thumb brushing lightly over Y/N’s hip before she took a small step back.

“I’ll text you the details,” she murmured, her eyes sparkling as she gave a little wave. With one last look, she disappeared down the hall, leaving Y/N breathless.

As soon as the door shut, Y/N sank onto her bed, covering her burning face with her hands.

She screeched.

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entitled-fangirl · 5 hours ago

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Violence through his veins.

Benjicot Blackwood x wife!reader

Summary: Benjicot is an overly nervous man around his wife, blushing every time. After the Battle at the Burning Mill, Benji exudes confidence. It throws her off.

Warnings: HEAVY talks of sex. Blood, war, violence, etc.

A/N: based on an ask! We get a little shy Ben, then a little Bloody Ben! It's the best of both worlds!!!

Masterlist

..........................................

She stepped down the stairs, paying more attention to the man that stood at the bottom of the staircase.

Benjicot Blackwood stood at the bottom of the stairs. He was chatting lightly to a lord, not noticing her approaching yet.

She took a moment to admire him. His broad shoulders flexed as he rolled them back. He no doubt wanted to crawl into a hole and not come back out. She was beginning to know him well just from his body language.

The man he was talking to looked up, noticing her coming down the stairs. "My lady?"

Benji turned immediately at that. His eyes lit up at the sight of her. "My love?" He asked softly.

She hit the bottom step and stopped. "Forgive me. I didn't mean to interrupt you."

Benji let out a soft breath of relief. "No. That's fine." He excused himself from the man and held out his arm like a proper gentleman, which she took.

The two walked down the corridor in silence and she was the one to break it. "You looked miserable."

"Did I?" He immediately asked in concern, then relaxed. "Thought I was hiding it pretty well."

She hummed. "He didn't seem to notice."

"And you did?"

She shrugged and tightened her grip on his bicep. "We're married."

His brows came together in thought. His heart felt a small jolt at the thought that she recognized his anxiety so easily. "We are," he agreed, "Is that how it works?"

"Well, I don't know in all honesty," she admitted. "But I know you fairly well."

"And I to you."

The silence continued as they continued to walk. It was comforting, and they found that they didn't mind it. But Benji's mind was wandering and he couldn't stop it.

"Is that why you interrupted?"

She hummed in consideration of what to tell him. "A lady never interrupts on purpose."

His eyes met hers, and a blush crept over his cheeks. The two looked away.

"I-I'll have to go soon. I have to patrol."

"You won't be here to sup?"

"No..."

"Oh." She pulled her hand back and smoothed down her skirt. "Well, that's alright. How late will you be gone?"

He rubbed at the back of his neck. "I imagine before you sleep, though I'm unsure."

"I've been… missing you, as of late," she admitted with a flushed expression.

His cheeks flushed as well. "H-Have you?"

"It has been a few days." She dared to reach out and brush over his shoulder. "The people are expecting us to do our duties."

"Is that the only reason?" His breathed out as the heat in his body rose.

She stepped forward, placing a delicate kiss to his jaw. "No."

A small whine fell from his lips. His shaky hands made their way to her hips and his head tilted up to give her more room.

She took advantage of it, nipping at his Adam's apple.

He groaned. "I must go."

"Stay," she begged.

"I-I can't."

She placed her forehead on his chest. "But you'll be back soon?"

He brushed a hand through her hair. "As soon as I can be, my love."

…

The news of the Battle had sent her into a tailspin that evening. Her sweet husband in a battle with the Brackens?

When news was received that the battle had ended, she all but ran to the battlefield. The stable boy had handed her the reigns to her horse and she was off.

Once upon the field, she took note of the numerous scattered bodies across the field. It panicked her more, knowing that her sweet Benjicot could be one of them.

The small group of men across the field loudly chatted and yelled, no doubt celebrating their victory. They were crowded in a circle, all in Blackwood red.

She rode to them, and their attention turned to her.

Benicot stepped out from the circle, his body covered head to toe in blood. His hair was smeared with the remains of his enemies, his eyes so dark, they were hard to spot through the blood.

But that wasn't what was so alarming.

It was the confidence that oozed from his form. His shoulders were back, his chest puffed out in a way she'd never seen. His eyes held a fire to them, one that was now set on her. He sheathed his sword, opening his arms out. "The hell are you doing here?"

She jumped off of her horse, running to him. When within reach, her hands frantically moved over him, trying to figure out his injuries- if he even had any. It was so difficult to tell through the blood. "Are you hurt?"

His hands had instinctively moved to her waist, keeping her in a vice grip. "You sweet woman. So concerned for me, you journeyed into a battle, unsure if it was over yet?"

"Well… yes… I guess so-"

"Hear that boys?" He called over his shoulder. "The lady cares for her new Lord."

They cheered and quipped various things in response, but she heard none of them. "Benji? What do you mean? Is your father-"

"-Dead," he finished for her. "Died to a Bracken sword. And I killed the Bracken. First blood of the new Lord's sword is one of a Bracken! Isn't that joyful?"

Her face fell. "Oh, Benji. I'm so sorry."

"Sorry?" He gawked at her, and a sinister smile came over his face. "I'm Lord Blackwood now. And you are my Lady. Are you not incandescently happy?"

"Benjicot. Are you hurt?"

He shook his head and pulled her closer. "I've never felt more alive," he growled in her ear.

She gripped him by his biceps, her fingers catching on the metal armor around him. "You're different."

His fingers squeezed her hips. "I'm alive," was his answer.

Her head picked up to look up at his face. He was staring down at her, his lips parted. The two took a moment to truly drink the other in.

Benjicot's hand came up to her face and cupped her cheek. The contact made her eyes close for a moment, not caring about the blood that smeared across her cheek.

"My heart is pounding," he admitted.

She braved a move, pushing herself firmly against him and kissing his lips softly.

A groan sounded from within him, and he soon dipped his head down to catch her lips further. The kiss deepened heavily, the two beginning to fight for dominance. Their breaths mixed between kisses.

"I'm taking you back to Ravenhall," he panted. "Now. I can't wait any longer for a taste of you."

He shouted something over his shoulder at the guys, all of them waving or voicing a bye of sorts, obviously trying to give the lustful man a little privacy.

He spoke as he tugged her along. "The gods have made you just for me, haven't they?"

"I'm beginning to believe they have."

A smirk came across his face. "They have. And I for you. I know how well you take me."

Her face flushed. "I don't know what you're talking ab-"

He dug his heel into the dirt, stopping them and tugging her to him. It caught her off guard, but he caught her with ease. "You do," he pushed. "You know very well what I mean." He leaned forward slowly, as if trying to earn the trust of prey. His face tucked into the crook of her neck, beginning to kiss and lightly suck at the skin. "They way you take me is my proof that the gods are in my favor."

"Not-" her breath caught when he nipped a sensitive spot. "Not your victory over the Brackens?"

"No," he quickly answered, as if it was obvious.

"How much further to your horse?" She softly asked.

He took a deep breath against her, savoring each passing second of being consumed by the very thought of her. "Depends on how many times I have to stop to admire you."

She smiled and tugged at his hair playfully. He groaned.

…

Seemed that when violence moved through his veins, so did confidence. Not that she minded. Both Benjis were perfect to her.

.........................................

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just-some-random-blogger · 3 days ago

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I'm so late but 🫡🫡🫡 I always get back to my tags 😭 unless they've disappeared

He looked forward to another chance at impressing his lady with his prowess on the field, in the hope of convincing her of his suitability as a husband and protector for her.

Everyone go home. I'm afraid he's built different

He hoped that she would not think him too forward or presumptuous in this but, hearing that it was her desire to match his House colours, he had immediately sought to facilitate it.

Nah. This is the exact definition of if he wanted to, he would. Initiative.

Lowering his head so that his mouth was close to Y/N's ear, he spoke conspiratorially: "I hope, my Lady, that your grip upon my arm does not convey your alarm lest I should be slain in today's tourney. I assure you I am more stalwart than you believe me to be."

😫😫😫😫😫😫 SOMEONE PLAY WHAT A MAN BY SALT AND PEPPA

"Right you are, my Lady. I am assured, however, that your pretty wit will be able to shrink my head back down to size, should I grow too over-confident."

I WANT HIM

His mirth was sharply cut short, however, when Prince Daemon Targaryen announced his challenge to Gwayne, and was instead replaced with nerves.

STAY AWAY FROM HIM DAEMON

"I am perfectly well, my Lady. Please do not distress yourself any further. It looked much worse to you than it was. I barely felt the fall."

RAT STOP LYING

He was mindful of her aversion to touch and would not exploit her concern for him in order to feel her touch again.

🗣️IF🗣️HE🗣️ WANTED🗣️TO🗣️HE🗣️WOULD🗣️

🥺🥺🫶🫶🫶 also I think somewhere around here you accidentally repeated a few paragraphs

Adopting a teasing tone, he smirked at her. "Although, my Lady, I must also assure you that you have my full permission to touch me whenever you want." At this, Y/N broke out into laughter, playfully hitting him on the arm.

At her tentative questioning, he smiled indulgently at her, assuming a teasing tone, "well it is most certainly not for me, although I am sure I would look good in it."

💀💀💀💀💀✋✋✋✋ but he did nawt lie I'm afraid

Her father pulled out a seat beside him for her to sit and roughly pulled her down onto it. Lowering his head towards hers, he spoke through gritted teeth. "I do not ever want to see you behave in such an unbecoming manner as you behaved at today's tourney. Your concern for Ser Gwayne Hightower was entirely inappropriate and has given rise to unwelcome questions about the nature of your relationship with him. You will comport yourself in a manner becoming of a lady from now on and no longer be so open about your relationship to that family. Do you understand." She bowed her head at the hatred she heard lacing his words, responding in barely a whisper, "I understand, Ser."

🧍‍♀️ HELLO?????? HER FATHER IS OK WITH THIS????

"How dare you touch a lady without her consent," Gwayne spoke through gritted teeth, as he assumed a protective stance between his lady and Ser Tyland. Tyland responded in a nonchalant drawl, "her consent matters little to me if her father agrees to it."

"Say anything so ungallant of my Lady again, Ser, and I shall cut you from nose to navel."

NOSE TO NAVEL DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT

Delicate part. 6

Gwayne Hightower x reader

Description: Gwayne indulges his Lady's wish to dress in the colours of his House in the hopes that this will endear him to her. When he rides forth to meet Daemon's challenge in the jousting, he discovers how much his Lady cares for him. Gwayne must face another challenge at the tourney banquet, as he defends his Lady from unwanted attentions from another man.

Writer's note: Thank you so much for all your lovely comments on the last part of this story and I apologise for the delay in getting this over out. Life just got in the way but I hope you enjoy the next installment. Tags in the comment section :)

Warnings: sexual harassment, violence, female reader, touch averse and asexual reader.

When the dawn rose on the second and final day of the Heir's tournament, Gwayne was already awake. He had resolved to ready himself quickly, in order to be able to escort his sister and lady to their seats before he made his own way to participate in the jousting. He looked forward to another chance at impressing his lady with his prowess on the field, in the hope of convincing her of his suitability as a husband and protector for her. The appearance of his lady in green attire at the banquet following the tournament the day before, had bolstered his determination to win her heart to him. It was the second time he had seen her adorned in his House colours and he had meant what he said when he told her that he hoped to always see her in them. The colour green had never looked so beautiful to him, symbolizing as it did his tender hope that Y/N would one day be the Lady Hightower. He dared to hope that her wearing it intimated that she had warm feelings towards his House and himself. That she may yet open her heart to him.

Alicent's confidence that no one could resist loving her brother and her revelation that Y/N had specifically asked Alicent to help her match a new fabric to the colours of House Hightower, had lit a spark of hope within him. Acting upon this hope, he had sent another raven to Oldtown, requesting that silks in the colours of House Hightower be sent to King's Landing, at once, to be made into dresses for both his sister and his lady. He hoped that she would not think him too forward or presumptuous in this but, hearing that it was her desire to match his House colours, he had immediately sought to facilitate it. A warm surge of affection towards her bloomed in his chest at her sweetness in wanting to align herself with the House of her two best friends. Both he and Alicent already considered her to be an indispensable part of their family and he was gladdened to think that she should do so too. He knew he still needed to tread carefully, considering that she had already expressed to him her clear distaste for marriage, but he began to believe that it was not the institution itself, nor love itself, that she was opposed to. Paying careful attention to her reaction to his attempts at conveying his feelings for her in his words and gestures, he had become increasingly hopeful that she might not reject his love.

Where she had not wanted to even hold his arm when they had first met, she now reached for his arm before he could even offer it out to her, always placing her delicate hand in his when he offered it out to her. Gradually, she had transitioned from sitting opposite him under the Weirwood tree, to sitting beside him, arms brushing as they talked until the sun began to set. His heart soared at the thought that she should not only be so comfortable around him but that she should also welcome his closeness. He felt her trust in him to be a priceless honour which he would not take foregranted, since it was so rare and so precious.

Feeling how precious her trust in him was, he was anxious not to overstep her boundaries, and so had resisted his, now, daily urge to get down on one knee before her and make a proposal of marriage to her. He was sure that such a brash action would not yet be welcome and he was determined to wait until such a time as he could do so with greater confidence in her receptivity to it. This was in spite of Alicent's frequent entreaties that he should try, desperate as she was to have her best friend become her sister by marriage. He had, however, made one slip up, allowing his feelings for his lady to overcome him in the moment. Rejoining his sister and his lady after yesterday's tourney, he had spent the rest of the afternoon enjoying the praises of both at his victories.

At his love's vociferous enumeration on his skill on the field, he had given into his feeling of elation, taking her hand to press a soft kiss to it. As he did so, he attempted to thank her, but stumbled on his words as he said, "I am glad to hear you are pleased with your champion's efforts. You have my sincere thanks, my lo-my lady." His eyes had widened in panic at nearly calling her his love out loud, but the next second hope brimmed forth in his heart as he noticed the faint blush on his lady's face and her intent gaze on him. It was almost as if...but it could not be, he was only imagining what he wished to see. For a moment it had seemed as if she had wanted him to say the word he had almost said in mistake, as if she were hanging upon his words. With a cough, Alicent came to her brother's aid to change the subject and the three continued to converse as usual. Something had shifted in the air, however, and it was felt by all three.

Gwayne could feel this shift as he escorted his sister and lady to their seats above the jousting yard, almost as if a veil had been lifted and his feelings for her no longer needed to be contained within him like a secret. He dared to hope that Y/N's tighter clutch on his arm that morning was a sign of her growing affection for him, though this did not stop him from teasing her.

More than able to meet his teasing with her own sharp retorts, Y/N playfully knocked her shoulder against his, her lips upturned in a mischievous smile. "I think I have cautioned you against arrogance before, Gwayne. We wouldn't want your head to grow too large and for you to overbalance with the weight of it."

Alicent laughed in assent, "I have told you as much more times than I can count, Gwayne."

Gwayne's smile grew at his lady's wit and his sister's laughter, this not being the first time she had bested him in their verbal sparring. Far from being offended by her frequent jests at his expense, he viewed it as an encouraging sign of her trust in him and her confidence around him. He adopted a look of mock contrition, nodding in assent at her rebuke.

"Right you are, my Lady. I am assured, however, that your pretty wit will be able to shrink my head back down to size, should I grow too over-confident." As she broke out into laughter, he once again felt sure that he would never grow tired of the sound. It was the sweetest sound in the world to him; yet another reason why he was only too glad to be the target of her jests, if only to elicit that sound from her again.

Leading his sister and lady to their seats on the King's balcony, overlooking the jousting, he kissed both of their hands, retaining hold of Y/N's longer than was strictly necessary, as he held her gaze intently. Reluctantly releasing his hold on her hand, he returned to the jousting yard, lowering his helm over his face.

As the day wore on and the light of the retreating afternoon sun became hazy, Gwayne had won several victories to his name, having just unhorsed the same Lannister who had distressed his sister and lady only two evenings before. He could not but think the lickspittle had it coming to him and Gwayne was only too glad to have been given the opportunity of returning his offence to his sister and lady in kind. Raising his helm, following his victory, Gwayne looked up at his sister and lady, first nodding his head in the direction of the Lannister knight's crumpled form on the ground, before smirking and winking at them. He could not repress his own chuckle as he saw them break into laughter at his antics.

His mirth was sharply cut short, however, when Prince Daemon Targaryen announced his challenge to Gwayne, and was instead replaced with nerves. Daemon was more than twice his age and experienced in real battle. Gwayne had little hope of winning against him in the joust, but he determined to try, not wishing to alarm his sister or his lady if he were to fall. Looking up at his father for the first time since the tourney began, Otto Hightower merely nodded at him and redirected his gaze away. Gwayne well knew that Daemon had no love for his father and that it was his enmity towards Otto Hightower which had, no doubt, been his reason for selecting Gwayne as an opponent. Gwayne looked to his sister, distressed to see her look so alarmed and he tried to smile at her reassuringly, before lowering his helm and leading his horse into position. Time seemed to slow as Gwayne watched Daemon line up into position, his heart thundering in his chest. Nevertheless, he raised his lance with all the confidence he could muster and charged at Daemon with a level of determination Daemon had little been expecting from a knight of but ten and seven years.

Gwayne was met with uproarious applause when his lance knocked Daemon so forcefully in the shoulder as to nearly unseat him from his horse. Breathing a brief sigh of relief, Gwayne cantered his horse to the other end of the field, preparing to charge at his opponent, once again. A feeling of dread settled in his chest, his heart still beating frantically, as he prepared to meet Daemon's horse. He raised his lance, once again, aiming for Daemon's helmet as their horses ran to meet one another, only realizing at the last moment that Daemon had lowered his lance to take Gwayne's horse's legs out from under him. There was a brief feeling of falling as Gwayne was unseated from his horse, his helmet flying from his head with the impact. He hit the ground hard, his face skidding across the hard gravel, and he struggled for breath, winded by the fall. Taking deep breaths, he rolled onto his back and waited for the world to realign in his vision, still dizzy from the impact of his fall. His vision had refocused and his hearing returned, as he began to recover his senses, when he heard the sound of a high shriek and the sound of someone crying as if in great pain. Looking up to locate the source of the sound, he was horrified to see that it was his lady, his love that was crying into his sister's shoulder, struggling for breath herself. He promptly struggled to his feet, though he stumbled a few times in his attempt to get up in such haste. This did not stop him from running up to the balcony and calling to her, ignoring the outraged expression of his father at the display.

"Y/N, my Lady, I am well. Do not distress yourself"

She quickly looked back at him, her eyes flitting across his form to assess the damage. Gaining her attention, he held her gaze as he held his gloved hand to where his heart would be under his breastplate.

"I am well, I assure you." He nodded in assurance both to Y/N, who he was relieved to see was beginning to calm, and to Alicent, who looked equally distressed.

Gwayne stumbled to stand just below where the King was seated, bowing in acknowledgement of his defeat, before briskly walking away from the yard to rejoin his sister and his lady. Whilst her distress at his fall filled him with grateful affection at her concern for him, he was too focused on remedying both her and Alicent's distress to dwell on it. Whilst he revelled in the support of his sister and beloved at the training yard, he did not wish them to see violence which would give them cause for alarm. He was grateful, therefore, that Daemon's defeat of him had not been worse and that his injuries were only superficial. He barely gave them a second thought as he hurried to assure both his sister and his lady that he was well and that they should not distress themselves any further on his account. In his haste to run to the entrance of the steps leading to the Royal balcony, barely able to see as blood from a wound to his head trickled down into his eyes, he was startled to bump into the very lady he was trying so hard to get to. He held his arms out to hold her elbows and steady her, as she brought her hands up to his shoulders, brushing her hands over them, his arms and his chest, her eyes frantically assessing him for any injuries. Lost in the feeling of her touch, even if only over his armour, he was momentarily speechless.

"How badly are you hurt, Gwayne?" she frantically asked of him, in a tremulous voice which had him wishing to pull her into his chest and hold her to him.

He squeezed her forearms comfortingly, lowering his head to meet her eyes.

"I am perfectly well, my Lady. Please do not distress yourself any further. It looked much worse to you than it was. I barely felt the fall."

She looked up at him uncertainly, seemingly not convinced by his assurances. He stopped breathing for a moment when she raised a hand to gently brush his forehead with her knuckles.

"You're bleeding Gwayne. Come, I will tend to it."

The tender concern he heard in her voice left him feeling dazed, as if he had stepped into a dream, and he found himself leaning into her touch. As she retracted her hand, he wished she would touch his face again, feeling sure it would heal him of any malady. He rallied himself, however, reminding himself that it was his responsibility to assure her. He was mindful of her aversion to touch and would not exploit her concern for him in order to feel her touch again.

"I thank you for your gentle concern, my Lady, but there is no need. I will see to it forthwith, please rejoin Alicent and do not worry yourself any further. I shall be with you as soon as I can." He was surprised when she gripped onto his elbows to prevent him from leaving her side, and he remained where he stood, waiting with bated breath for her to speak.

She met his gaze with a look of determination, her voice firm. "I will tend to them, Gwayne. It is no mere flesh wound." With that, she took his hand in hers, and began to lead him to the medical station behind the training grounds. By the time they had reached the tent and Y/N was gently pushing Gwayne's shoulders to help him sit down, he really was feeling quite faint from the force of the blow to his head and his subsequent exertions to reassure his lady before he had fully recovered from it. As his vision began to swim, he leant forward, closing his eyes tightly. To his surprise, he felt Y/N wrap an arm around his shoulders and tug hin towards her so that his head fell onto her shoulders.

"Just take slow, deep breaths Gwayne," She softly urged.

Following her instructions, he quickly regained his vision and began to feel better, although he was reluctant to remove his head from her shoulder. Just as he was resolving to do so, however, not wishing to exploit her tender caress for him, he was arrested in his movements by the unexpected pleasure of her caressing his head, pushing back hair that had become stuck to his face with blood. Placing her palm on his cheek, she looked into his eyes intently as she enquired, "Are you beginning to feel better, Gwayne? I need to clean the wound to your head."

at him before she gently raised his head from her shoulder and pushed his shoulders back to lean him against a pillar. Gwayne lamented the loss of Y/N's touch, have felt sure that that would be enough to heal any injury he incurred, but she quickly returned to sit beside him eith a basin and cloth in hand. Raising her palm to his cheek once again, causing Gwayne's beast beat to accelerate, she dampened the cloth and began to dab gently at the wound on his head. Her eyes were fixed on his wound in intense concentration, as Gwayne looked at her in awe and adoration at her kindness and care for him. A pained expression overtaking her features, at what Gwayne assumed to be either her dislike of physical touch or the sight of the wound, he sought to remove any sense of obligation to assist him.

"You needn't do that, my Lady, if it distresses you. I know you do not care for physical touch."

He reached up to take the cloth from her hand but was pleasantly surprised when his lady took his hand in hers instead.

She fixed her eyes on his with an intensity and determination he had not expected, as she spoke in a measured tone.

"I do not mind when it is with you."

She met his gaze with a look of determination, her voice firm. "I will tend to them, Gwayne. It is no mere flesh wound." With that, she took his hand in hers, and began to lead him to the medical station behind the training grounds. By the time they had reached the tent and Y/N was gently pushing Gwayne's shoulders to help him sit down, he really was feeling quite faint from the force of the blow to his head and his subsequent exertions to reassure his lady before he had fully recovered from it. As his vision began to swim, he leant forward, closing his eyes tightly. To his surprise, he felt Y/N wrap an arm around his shoulders and tug him towards her so that his head fell onto her shoulders.

"Just take slow, deep breaths Gwayne," She softly urged.

Becoming lost in her beautiful eyes and her tender touch, it was a few moments before Gwayne, uncharacteristically, stuttered out a response. "I am, my Lady, thanks to your kind ministrations." She smiled tenderly at him before she gently raised his head from her shoulder and pushed his shoulders back to lean him against a pillar. Gwayne lamented the loss of Y/N's touch, having felt sure that it would be enough to heal any injury he incurred, but she quickly returned to sit beside him with a basin and cloth in hand. Raising her palm to his cheek once again, causing Gwayne's heart beat to accelerate, she dampened the cloth and began to dab gently at the wound on his head. Her eyes were fixed on his wound in intense concentration, as Gwayne looked at her in awe at her kindness and care for him. A pained expression overtaking her features, at what Gwayne assumed to be either her dislike of physical touch or the sight of the wound, he sought to remove any sense of obligation to assist him further.

"You needn't do that, my Lady, if it distresses you." He spoke softly so that she would know he only meant to be considerate, rather than to judge her for her aversion to physical touch.

He reached up to take the cloth from her hand but was pleasantly surprised when his lady took his hand in hers instead.

She fixed her eyes on his with an intensity and determination he had not expected, as she spoke in a measured tone.

"I do not mind when it is with you."

Stunned by her words, hope blooming within his heart, as he met her focused gaze, he once again found himself at a loss for words. At his silence and under his intense gaze, Y/N began to blush and to look timid, before she continued her ministrations. A look of concern settled onto Gwayne's features as he realised that his silence at his lady's brave profession may have made her feel awkward. He raised his own hand to enclose hers, which was dabbing the blood from his face, in his.

He spoke gently and reverentially as he chased her eyes with his. "It gladdens my heart to hear you say so. I am honoured by your trust in me."

She smiled up at him, affectionately patting his jaw with her other hand. "I thought you were going to tease me for being so bold or say something untoward." Her tone was teasing but he detected a degree of real insecurity behind it.

He looked at her seriously as he said his next words, so that she could be assured of his sincerity. "I would not tease you about something so important. Your trust is something I consider to be sacred to me." She looked at him carefully, as of trying to gage his sincerity before seeming to find what she was looking for in his eyes and smiling at him. Seeing her look of concern as he was unable to conceal his wince of pain as she pressed on his wound, he sought to distract her.

"I knew it! You were being too well behaved. Remember, Ser, you are not so injured that I will take pity on you if do not behave."

Holding his hands up placatingly, unable to repress his smile at her scolding, he adopted a contrite tone. "My apologies, my Lady. I assure you of my full cooperation and good behaviour from this point forward." He lowered his head towards her in contrition and was pleased when his lady mussed up his hair before she continued her ministrations. As he watched her, an adorable look of concentration on her face, he soon forgot about his injuries, lost in the feeling of elation at being so close to his love.

Hours later, Gwayne, Alicent and Y/N were sitting companionably by the fire in Alicent's apartments, having congregated there so that they could head down to the tourney's closing banquet together. The fate of the Queen and the heir had yet to be announced and the King had departed half way through the tourney, but the banquet was still set to go ahead in his absence. When Gwayne had recovered enough to return to his chambers and change for the evening's festivities, Y/N had changed in Alicent's rooms into another deep forest green gown. As she moved, the silk folds of her gown rustled like the faint sound of leaves falling in a forest, and Gwayne found himself once again mesmerized by her enchanting beauty. Following her friends' glowing reaction to her matching their House colours at the first banquet, Y/N had slowly started to incorporate more green into her dress.

At first it was a green velvet ribbon in her hair, which Gwayne was quick to notice. Upon taking his arm when he met her at her apartments the day after the first banquet, She watched as his mouth upturned in a smile as he spotted the ribbon. She expected him to tease her, and was already preparing her own witty retorts, but he only lowered his head to meet her gaze, a soft expression she could not quite place in his eyes, as he said quietly, "You must allow me to tell you how becoming your hair looks today, my Lady". The tenderness she detected in his tone and the warmth of his gaze made her sure that there was a reason why green was her favoured colour. Her preference for the colour had begun with the affinity she felt with Alicent, the sister of her heart, who had kindly given her some of her own ribbons, delighting at her friend's wish to match her. As Y/N found herself falling in love with Gwayne, her preference for the colour only increased, and his gift of a Hightower heirloom made her sure that he encouraged her affinity with his House. Her heart warmed at the thought and she began to smile at Gwayne's compliment before her face fell and she turned away from him to stare directly ahead of her, a look of resignation on her face.

A look of confusion settled onto Gwayne's countenance at the sudden fall in his lady's expression, concerned that his comment on her sweet gesture, in wearing Alicent's ribbon in her hair, was the cause. He was a fool to have commented on it, perhaps he had embarrassed her, he rebuked himself. He could not know that the reason for his lady's sudden change in mood was her own self disparagement. Every time she found herself losing herself in fantasies of Gwayne professing his love for her and taking her to live with him and Alicent in Oldtown, she was brought back to reality by the thought that she could never accept such a proposal. She had convinced herself, after years of hearing her father's injunction that her only purpose was to marry and rear children, that marriage was a prison. Falling in love with Gwayne had convinced her that the opposite could be the case; she could imagine no greater happiness, no greater freedom from the viper's nest that was King's Landing, than marrying the man she loved. Nevertheless, a different problem presented itself. Her aversion to physical touch was still an insurmountable obstacle to marriage.

Whilst she now welcomed Gwayne's touch, her heart skipping a beat every time he took hold of her hand, or brushed his knee or shoulder with hers when they sat side by side, she would never be comfortable with the physical intimacy expected of a wife to a husband. The thought continued to make her feel physically uncomfortable to the point of distress, and she knew that this would not change, even if she loved Gwayne. Gwayne's respect of her physical boundaries and the gentleness of his manner towards her had made her tentatively hopeful that he might not mind such an absence of intimacy. They seemed to share an intimacy between their souls, as if an invisible string tethered their hearts together, surmounting any physical intimacy. Years of her insecurities being cultivated by the men around her like a poisonous plant, coiling itself around her heart, meant that she would quickly reject such an idea. She resolved that she could not ask Gwayne to make such a sacrifice: to content himself with a wife who's idea of intimacy could never go beyond a kiss; to embrace the impossibility of his ever having an heir. No, she could not ask it of him. And yet she could not force herself to remove herself from his presence, feeling a need to be close to him, his presence like a warm ray of sunlight to her.

Whilst Y/N puzzled over her conflicting feelings, Gwayne struggled to think of a way to show his lady that, far from mocking her, he encouraged her wearing his House colours. A look of determination crossed his own features as he spoke in what he hoped was a nonchalant tone. "Alicent has asked for me to send for some Hightower silks for her from Oldtown. I hope you do not think me too presumptuous, my lady, when I tell you that I asked for enough silk for two dresses to be sent to King's Landing." He hesitated, his own nerves getting the better of him, before he took a deep breath and continued hurriedly, 'I had hoped that, given your preference for the colour green, you would not object to the second dress being made for you. I know my sister did so enjoy seeing you match our House colours at the banquet...as did I." He said the last part in a soft, hazy voice as he became lost staring into her eyes, which looked back up at him in confusion.

A moment of silence passed, as his lady continued to look at him, several emotions flickering behind her eyes, as he feared he had gone too far in revealing his regard for her. Just as he was about to frantically apologise for his presumption, she said in a soft, hesitant voice, 'you mean for me to have the other dress?" At her tentative questioning, he smiled indulgently at her, assuming a teasing tone, "well it is most certainly not for me, although I am sure I would look good in it." He rejoiced as she broke into laughter at this, gripping tighter onto his arm to steady herself. "I don't know why you should laugh, my Lady. I am perfectly serious." At this, she only laughed harder and playfully jabbed her index finger to his chest. "Can you never be serious, Gwayne?" she laughed, her eyes sparkling. Gwayne's expression softened, as he met her gaze, "I assure you I can be most serious, when I care about something or someone." She stopped laughing at the emphasis he placed on that final word, meeting his gaze. "I am serious when I say that it is my most earnest wish that you should accept the dress. I do so love to see you wearing the colours of my House." Gwayne held his breath, awaiting her answer, feeling that he had gone further than he had previously dared in expressing his feelings for his love. His heartbeat began to soar when she placed her palm to his chest, where he was sure she could feel his heartbeat erratically. Looking up at him, she spoke in a soft voice to say, 'thank you, Gwayne." He sensed that there was more contained in her words, an understanding of what he meant by his gesture, and he struggled to contain his elation at the thought that she was beginning to entertain his suit for her love.

So it was that Y/N came to be wearing a gown made from silks in the colour of House Hightower, sent directly from Oldtown, as she and Alicent fawned over Gwayne's injuries from the tourney that day. From the smirk on his face, as Alicent held his hand and Y/N held a cold compress to his head, which, truth be told, had ceased to throb, it was clear that Gwayne was thoroughly enjoying their attentions. "Prince Daemon was a coward to challenge you, Gwayne. What quarrel did he have with you?" Alicent questioned through gritted teeth. Gwayne turned to his sister with a comforting gaze, "the quarrel was not with me, dear Sister. Do not take it so much to heart, although I am grateful to have such a fierce protector."

He smiled as Alicent laughed, before continuing in a more serious tone, "Daemon's quarrel is with our Lord, father. I was merely a means to an end." Alicent's eyes darkened at his words. "Our father is the coward then, to let you fight his battles for him. He does not care for us at all, only for his relentless scheming." Not wishing to turn Alicent against their father, since he was her only family in King's Landing, he patted her hand affectionately and said in a coaxing tone, "he does his best. I am sure he does all for the good of the family". Y/N spoke up now, unable to repress her anger. "If that is true, then why are you the one left injured and not your father, Gwayne? I saw your father watch on as you bravely met Daemon's challenge, a knight twice your age. It was cowardly for your father to urge you to accept his challenge." Gwayne was momentarily stunned at his lady's passionate defence of him, when he had watched his own father merely nod at him as he had rode forth to a fight he knew he could not win. Her care for his wellbeing had his heart swelling in affection for her.

Unable to contain it, he took her hand in his and raised it to his lips to press a kiss upon it, gazing adoringly into her eyes as he did so. "Thank you for your concern, my Lady." Not wishing to completely alter the hitherto light tone of the three's conversation, he playfully added, "at least I am assured that my two favourite ladies would avenge me were I to fall in battle. I am sure that two more formidable assailants could not be found. Daemon shall have to watch his steps when you two are abroad." Both ladies pushed him playfully in the shoulders at this and he fell back onto the seat as they all broke out into laughter.

When the three had entered the banquet hall, Y/N had walked arm in arm with Gwayne, allowing him to lead her to the Hightower table, when a rough hand grabbed her free elbow. She whipped round to face her father who was glowering at her and Gwayne. "Thank you for escorting my daughter, Ser Gwayne. I will take her off your hands now." Gwayne's expression darkened and she could see him open his mouth to protest, when her father rudely wrapped his hand around her elbow and pulled her away from Gwayne. Her father rarely took an interest in her daily movements, almost viewing her in the same manner as household furniture, and he had not protested when she had sat with the Hightowers before, so had expected no opposition this time. She looked over her shoulder to see Gwayne looking back at her, his expression full of concern as he made to follow her, before Alicent placed a hand on his chest to prevent him and shook her head at him. Y/N attempted to smile encouragingly at him to reassure him that she was fine, before quickly turning away from him.

Throughout the duration of the banquet, Y/N snatched fleeting glances at the Hightower every few minutes and would meet Gwayne's waiting eyes, each time. He seemed to be trying to communicate to her with his eyes his concern and his willingness to rescue her, if she were only to give a sign. Not wishing to spoil his and Alicent's evening and embarrassed that the Court should be whispering about her closeness to the Hightowers, she resolved to direct her gaze to the floor for the rest of the evening. She was startled from her thoughts by the unwelcome sound of Tyland Lannister's voice addressing her father: "Good evening, my Lord. May I have your permission to lead your daughter to the dance floor." Y/N's anger at being treated as if she were merely a part of the furniture, with no will of her own, as Tyland avoided her furious glare, was promptly replaced by panic as she took in his proposition. She inwardly prayed that her father would reject Tyland's offer, but her heart plummeted when he quickly acquiesced. "Well met, Ser Tyland. Of course. Y/N would be delighted, I am sure." She looked to her father in panic, "I would rather not, if you please, father. I am tired and do not wish to dance." Her father only glared at her in response, "do not offend Ser Tyland, foolish girl. You are not yet too tired to dance." Saying this, he roughly pulled her from her seat by the elbow, and pushed her towards Ser Tyland, who took her hand in his and practically pulled her towards the dance floor.

Her attempts to pull away from his grip proved ineffectual, and she began to really verge on panic when he pulled her into his embrace, wrapping an arm around her waist. She thought she heard a chair abrasively screech against flagstone across the hall, but was too concerned with removing herself from Ser Tyland's grip to care enough to see the source. Not caring what anyone else thought of her, she attempted to remove herself from his grip by pushing against his chest. He tightened his grip on her to a painful extent as he leered in her ear, "not so brave now, are you, without your Hightower protectors." Relief flooded Y/N as she heard the welcome sound of Gwayne's voice, even if it was shaking with anger, "she is not without her Hightower protector, you coward." Y/N whipped her head to the side to see Gwayne stood at her side, trembling in his anger towards the bastard he had seen manhandle his lady.

As soon as Gwayne had seen Ser Tyland begin pulling his love to the dance floor, he had risen from his seat in fury. Telling Alicent to return to her chambers, not wishing her to see his anger, he strode across the hall to defend his lady. Could her father and Ser Tyland not see the distress they were causing her, or did they simply not care? Either way, the sight of his love so frightened and ill-used filled him with irrepressible rage and concern, as he came to her defence. Gwayne promptly grabbed Ser Tyland by the collar and pulled him aggressively from Y/N, forcing him to release his hold on her. "How dare you touch a lady without her consent," Gwayne spoke through gritted teeth, as he assumed a protective stance between his lady and Ser Tyland. Tyland responded in a nonchalant drawl, "her consent matters little to me if her father agrees to it." Y/N looked up to see Gwayne's expression darken, before he turned to her and gently took hold of her elbow to move her back a few paces, "pardon me, my lady." Y/N wondered what he meant by his actions, before he whipped round and struck Ser Tyland with such force he hit the floor. Y/N watched in shock as Gwayne withdrew his sword, pointing it towards Ser Tyland's chest, as he continued to lie on the floor.

She could hear the shocked gasps of the guests around the room at Gwayne's actions, but he seemed heedless to them, as he spoke low and dangerously to Tyland: "Say anything so ungallant of my Lady again, Ser, and I shall cut you from nose to navel." As he said this, he indicated with his sword the line which he threatened to cut, as Ser Tyland looked up at him in fear. When Tyland did not respond, and made no move to stand, Gwayne sheathed his sword and gently took hold of his lady's arm, leading her towards the door. With a feather light touch, he led her from the hall, not stopping until they were far from the banquet hall.

When he was sure that he had brought them far enough away from the hall, he stopped at the bottom of a staircase. He removed his hand from his lady's elbow, instead hovered his hands underneath her elbows, as if he wanted to hold her but didn't know if it would be welcomed. "I am sorry to have had to resort to such violence in your presence, my Lady. Are you well?" His heart constricted painfully in his chest as he saw his love attempt to nod in affirmation, before her lip wobbled and her eyes filled with tears. He hesitated, not knowing how to comfort her, when she leant her head forward to place it against his chest. He stood, frozen in place, unsure of how to respond, as to whether his touch would be welcomed, given what she had just experienced. He could no longer restrain himself from holding her, however, when he heard her begin to cry quietly into his chest. He tentatively placed his arms around her in a light embrace, ready to remove them if his actions only caused her further alarm. When his lady brought her hands up to curl them around the fabric of his shirt, he wrapped his arms more securely around her, softly stroking her hair as he whispered soft assurances. "It's alright, you are safe now. No one will touch you without your consent again, I promise you that."

He forced himself to repress his anger at her father for allowing such a brute to insult his daughter in such a manner, not wishing for his already frightened lady to be further distressed by his anger or believe herself to be the cause. His focus now was entirely on comforting her, as he continued to hold her in his arms until her sniffling faded. He heard her speak against his chest, though her voice was muffled by the fabric of his tunic: "thank you for protecting me Gwayne." Placing his head lightly upon hers, he spoke quietly and determinedly, "you can always be assured of my protection, my Lady." Trying to amuse her, he added in a light tone, "just point to the offensive individual and I will dispatch them forthwith." She laughed quietly into his chest but it still sounded more like a sob, and he stroked her hair gently. "May I walk you back to your chambers, my Lady, or would you prefer to wait for Alicent to join us. I am sure she would be only too pleased if you would spend the night in her room."

He waited for his lady to decide, inwardly hoping that she would decide on the latter course, unwilling to return her to the man who had been the cause of her distress. At least if she was with Alicent, he would be close by, should either of them need him. She would know that Gwayne would protect them both and he hoped it would make her feel safe and give her comfort. After a brief moment of hesitation, his lady spoke in a tremulous voice, which pulled at his heart strings, "I would prefer to wait for Alicent and spend the night with her, if it is not too much trouble." He smiled encouragingly at her, lightly brushing her arm with his hand, "it is no trouble at all. We shall rejoin Alicent and return to her chambers forthwith." Saying this, he held his arm up for her to take, and they began to make their way towards the Hightower apartments, where Gwayne knew Alicent had headed to, as soon as he had asked her to. A sense of relief flooded him, as he walked with his lady's hand placed on his arm, to know that he would not have to place her in harm's way again that evening. At the same time, he was filled with a renewed sense of determination to win her heart to him as his lady wife, and as quickly as possible. He could not rest if he knew she was still living under the authority of a man who was so careless of her comfort, even if he was her father. He well knew how little care his own father had for either himself or his sister, who he was equally anxious to remove from King's Landing. He resolved that he would find a way to protect both his love and his sister from the vipers both within the Court and their own families.

#gwayne hightower x reader #😭😭 in gwayne we trust

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nakylvr · 11 hours ago

Text

— SÃO PAULO

daniela avanzini (katseye) x fem!reader

summary: going to a rave in the middle of the summer wasn't exactly on your to-do list. but when your best friend dani offers to take you to one, you have a hard time saying no

warnings/tags: language, nsfw content, rave setting, drug usage (acid & molly), switch!daniela, switch!reader, semi-public sex(bathroom), oral, fingering, praise

wc: 2,5 k

now playing: são paulo by the weeknd & anitta

minors do not interact

this is pure fiction for fun, do not come at me 🫵 but it is accurate descriptions of the drugs so pls don't do drugs cause i wrote this, i aint responsible for what u do🙏

for the past week, you had been dealing with your best friend, daniela’s, attempts at trying to get you to go out to a party. well, not exactly a party, but a rave. you have no idea how she found out about this, but you didn't care at the same time. you didn't bother asking how she found out that there was a rave on saturday night, knowing she would counter it by saying “so you're interested?”

so here you are now, sitting in your car in front of the big warehouse, mentally preparing yourself. unfortunately, you ended up giving in to dani’s consistently annoying manner of asking you every day if you were going to go. you couldn't lie and say these environments weren't your thing, because they really weren't. you only came along because you wanted to make sure dani would be okay. but, you didn't say that. with a sigh, you turn off your car and get out, walking up to the door and pushing it open. you're immediately met with bright strobing lights and booming loud music, and your nose scrunches up in discomfort at the sight. this was going to be a long night.

you swerve through the sweaty bodies, thankful you were wearing a short crop top and shorts with how hot it was already growing in there. your eyes wander around the place, trying to find daniela when you suddenly feel arms wrap around you, causing you to jump.

“calm down, ‘ts just me,”

you can barely hear her voice over the music, but you know it's daniela by the way her arms subtly curl around you and pull you closer to her. her words are slurring, and you can smell the alcohol on her.

“‘m glad you came,” she murmurs into your ear.

“how drunk are you, dani?” you question, trying to ignore her words, but not being able to meet her glossed over eyes.

“only a little,” she answers, but she’s swaying from side to side, giving a different answer. “c’mon, you need to have some fun, yn,” she pouts at you. “you want something?”

“excuse me?” your eyebrow arches, looking at her now. “dani, i’m not going to drink-”

“hold your tongue out.”

“what?” you look at her with even more confusion. “dani-” you glance down at what she's holding in her hand, two small pills and two tiny pieces of paper. “oh my god, what else are you on right now?” you hiss out, almost angry.

“it's just half a tab of acid and the smallest dose of molly possible,” daniela ignores your question about her, telling you what's in her hand. “everyone here is on this shit, you’ll be okay, trust me. ‘s long as you stay with me. ‘m taking it too.”

your first thoughts are being angry at the fact she was obviously on what “everyone” was on, but the way she's talking to you, saying that you’ll be fine as long as you're with her, the anger fades away. “okay, fine,” you sigh.

dani smiles at you, taking the pill from her hand and handing it over to you. you take it from her and quickly swallow it before she holds the paper near you.

“hold your tongue out,” she tells you. “it's gonna taste weird, but keep it in your mouth for as long as you can, then swallow it. you’ll feel it within the hour.”

you comply, holding your tongue out and letting her place the small paper on it. you aren't really listening to what she's saying, too busy trying not to stare at her, your heart racing at the sight of her. you feel the paper touch your tongue as she pulls her hand away, closing your mouth by your jaw, her thumb grazing over your lips.

“let's have some fun, yeah?” she grins at you, quickly taking both the pill and tab for herself.

all you can do is nod your head, not trusting your voice to respond. she grabs your hand and pulls you through the bodies, stopping in the middle of the warehouse and smiling at you.

“you look really good,” she tells you, her eyes shamelessly eyeing you up and down.

your cheeks grow hot at her gaze on you, averting your eyes from hers. she grabs both your hands, starting to sway around which causes you to do it also, and you're doing your best to not feel like you're gonna panic within the next hour when it kicks in. you know dani has done these things before, seeing as you've had to help her the morning after when she would call you in the early hours saying she was having a bad trip and needed someone. one too many times have you drove over to where she was to pick her up and bring her back to your apartment with her almost nonverbal as she stares wide eyed at every light she sees. yet, here you were, not being the one helping her, but doing it with her. you trust her more than anyone, and you know she wouldn't give you anything that could possibly hurt you, which is enough for you to let your anxieties fade away.

within a few minutes you find yourself enjoying this. the edm music isn't terrible, and the colorful lights distract you from the crowded environment that you're in. daniela’s eyes haven't left you for one second, and she's asking you every now and then if you're okay, which you just nod, smiling and continuing to dance.

time flies by quickly, and you can start feeling the weird effects of what you assume is the drugs you were given. your body feels hot, and the lights feel 10x brighter than they were earlier, almost blinding you as you sway around. your back is facing daniela, who is eyeing you with hungry eyes while watching you let go and finally enjoy yourself. she can hardly think with the mixture of alcohol and drugs in her, but all she knows is that she wants you. she's known it for a while now, but didn't want to fuck anything up with you and lose you. she's surprised she hasn't accidentally blurted it out yet on the many times you've taken care of her while she was high.

her arms snake around your waist from behind, pulling you so close that you're pressed against her. she stares at you as you sway to the hyper music, your eyes closed relishing in the feeling of everything. she wants to kiss you so badly, her eyes flickering to your lips every other second when you suddenly turn your head and open your eyes to look at her.

you smile at her, your arm hooking around her neck, hand grasping her nape as you pull her in to kiss you. dani’s eyes go wide when you kiss her, but she instantly kisses back, her arms tightening around you. your lips feel soft against hers, and she can taste the lipgloss you put on before arriving. you practically melt into the kiss, moaning softly when she manages to pull you even closer. all you can think about is how good her lips feel pressing on yours, and you're desperate for more. you part from the kiss, panting as you rest your forehead on hers, staring into her eyes.

daniela can barely process what's happening before she realizes you’ve dragged her into the dimly lit bathroom. you close the stall door and push her against it, leaning in and kissing her deeply. she can't stop the little noise that comes from her throat as you do so, a bit embarrassed by her own reaction with her cheeks flushing bright red. she doesn't know what to do, her hands shaking before finding your waist and grabbing you to hopefully ground herself some bit. your hands trail up and down her body, fingers grazing against her skin under the shirt she was wearing, your touch feeling like a burning sensation with the mix of the drugs.

dani gasps into the kiss, her eyes closing when she feels your hand dip into her jeans and start circling her clit with two fingers, gripping your waist tighter. her head leans back and hits the door with a quiet thud when you pull away from the kiss, her mouth falling open as quiet whimpers come from her.

“f-fuck, yn,” she whines your name. “more, please,”

you don't respond, instead taking your hand out of her jeans and unbuttoning them, tugging them down her legs onto the floor. you drop to your knees, pushing her legs apart with your face inches away from her dripping core. you stare up at her as you lick up her folds, hearing her gasp and grab your hair. your hands hold her thighs as you slowly push your tongue inside of her and quickly start thrusting in and out of her, moaning at the taste.

“o-oh my god,” daniela moans, pushing your head further into her. she whines loudly when you switch to suck on her throbbing clit, tugging on your hair. “keep d-doing that- f-fuck!”

you move one of your hands from her legs, lining two fingers up to her entrance before slipping them into her, causing a loud moan to come from her at the action. her hips start rocking against your fingers as you build a quick pace, long whines and moans falling past her lips as her head leans back against the door. your eyes remain looking up at her, watching the way her face contorts with every movement you make, her eyebrows scrunched together and her eyes squeezed closed.

dani can barely think about anything at this point, except the fact that it feels so good with you finally touching her like this. she’d been craving it for so long, and it was almost overwhelming with the amount of pleasure she was feeling. her chest heaves up and down, breathing heavily as she feels the knot building in the pit of her stomach while grinding against your hand. she isn't even trying to be quiet, her moans echoing in the room without any care. it was feeling too good for her to be quiet, her noises becoming more whiny as she feels herself growing closer to the edge. “fuck, you're gonna make me cum!” she whines. “don-don’t stop- shit- please,”

you don't say anything, speeding up your fingers and curling them inside her leading her to let out more higher pitched moans at the feeling of you hitting her g-spot. she finally opens her eyes and looks down at you, whimpering at the dark look in your eyes as you watch her come undone before you. her eyes lock with yours, and you curl your fingers again, making her let out a long whine as her eyes roll to the back of her head, cumming on your fingers.

you slow your fingers to a stop, leaving little licks on her clit before standing up again. you bring your fingers to her lips, which she parts instantly as you put them in her mouth. she moans around your fingers at the taste of herself, gagging lightly when you prod them further into her mouth, her hand grabbing your wrist. you pull them out of her mouth, a string of saliva connecting when she suddenly spins you around and presses you against the door, kissing you roughly. you let out a noise of surprise at the sudden action, kissing back as you feel her hands roam up and down your body.

dani’s hands move under your shirt, fondling one of your tits and smiling at the moan you let out into the kiss. she parts from the kiss, panting through her words. “you're s’ fucking hot,” she mumbles. “be mine, please,” her voice almost sounds pleading as she says this. “please, i’ve been wanting you for s’ long. just-”

your hands cup her face, causing her to stop talking as you smile at her. “of course, dani,” you reply. “i’m all yours.”

she smiles back at you, kissing you again as her hand trails down your body to under the waistband of the shorts you were wearing. she dips her hand in, pushing your panties to the side and dragging her fingers up and down your wet folds, collecting your wetness on them. “you're so wet,” she murmurs against your lips. without another word, she slides two fingers in you, your walls swallowing around them.

a moan escapes your lips at the feeling, your arms wrapping around her neck and pulling her close to you. parting from the kiss, you put your face in the crook of her neck, moaning into her skin as your hips subconsciously roll against her hand. “fuck, d-dani,” you whimper pathetically.

“keep makin’ those noises, you sound s’ pretty, mi amor,” daniela mumbles into your ear, thrusting her fingers in you at a steady pace.

you can't help but whine at her words, clenching around her fingers at the petname she calls you. she slips a third finger in you, stretching you out as you bite down on her neck while moaning. “oh m-my god, dani,”

dani hisses quietly when you bite into her neck, but doesn't stop or even slow down her fingers one bit, her unoccupied hand around your waist holding you against her. she smiles at the way you moan her name, and she wants to hear it more. she needs to hear it more. she didn't think you’d sound this pretty while she makes you feel like you were on cloud nine. “you're so tight around my fingers, fuck,” she breathes out. “mi hermosa niña,” she mumbles affectionately.

you feel like your head is spinning with the mix of everything you’re feeling. her body feels hot pressed against yours, her touch electrifying as she draws circles on your lower back, her affectionate voice as she talks, her long fingers curling their way inside of you as your mouth is agape with loud noises coming from you. you can't think anymore, the only thing on your mind being how good you’re feeling at the moment. you know someone could come in at any moment, and dani knows it too, which is why she speeds up the pace of her fingers, leaving you whining loudly into her neck. “f-fuck, ‘m gonna cum!”

hearing your whine, daniela curls her fingers in you again, hitting your g-spot with you rocking your hips with more desperation. “cum for me, mi buena niña,” she whispers into your ear, using her thumb to rub your clit quickly.

your eyes squeeze shut as a scream-like moan leaves your mouth when you cum on her fingers, clenching around her tightly and pulling on her hair. you whimper quietly as she pulls her fingers out of you slowly, not moving your head from her neck as you pant heavily.

“are you okay?” dani asks you softly, glancing down at you.

“yeah,” you answer in a mumble. “can we go home?”

��yeah,” she nods. “i’ll get us an uber or something. i’ll pick up your car here tomorrow.”

“okay,” you say quietly. “i love you,” you whisper.

“i love you too,” daniela replies in a second. “let's get out of here, yeah?”

“yeah.”

#katseye x reader #katseye imagines #katseye scenarios #daniela avanzini x reader #daniela x reader #daniela imagine #daniela scenarios #nsfw.

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candyeager · 12 hours ago

Text

𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍'𝐒 𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎

— sanzu haruchiyo x fem!reader

PART TWO 10.1k words

short summary. in which your heartbreak over Mikey pulls you into the dangerous and irresistible orbit of Bonten's Number Two, Haruchiyo Sanzu. warnings. sanzu haruchiyo is his own warning, graphic violence, substance abuse, toxic/manipulative relationships, explicit sexual content, depression & self-destructive behaviour, strong language. tags. female reader insert, bonten au, tsundere!sanzu, ex-boyfriend!mikey, angst with a happy ending, slow burn, heavy pining/yearning.

masterlist

Manjiro Sano never hurts you—not physically, at least—though the emotional havoc he's wreaked has left you unraveling. But what you face now is something entirely different.

Haruchiyo Sanzu's grip is iron-clad, dragging you away from Mikey's door with no regard for your protests. His fingers dig into your wrist like vices, the pressure biting deep into your skin until the pain is sharp and throbbing. It radiates up your arm, but even that ache is dull compared to the hollow devastation gnawing at your chest. The image of Mikey with her—so close, so intimate—burns behind your eyelids every time you blink.

It's as though the world around you has ceased to exist. You can't even register the hallways passing by as Sanzu hauls you through them, his erratic pace nearly causing you to stumble. You feel like a ragdoll in his grasp, powerless, your heart beating out of sync with reality.

Kakucho's voice filters through the numbness. "Sanzu... what are you doing?"

There's concern in his tone, but he stays planted where he is, as if crossing that line would be dangerous.

Sanzu doesn't slow, doesn't even glance at him. His lips curl into a sneer as cold as the concrete walls.

"Taking care of a stray," he bites, yanking you closer as though you might slip from his grip.

The words sting, but not as much as what follows.

Kakucho's frown deepens, but he's hesitant. "You sure you wanna do that? She's—"

Sanzu cuts him off, sharp and merciless. "She's nothing. A nobody. Mikey made that pretty fucking clear, didn't he?"

Nothing. A nobody.

Each word hits you with the force of a physical blow. Whatever you were to Mikey, whatever you thought you had—it's been ripped away, stripped down to these ugly truths.

You're nothing now.

Kakucho's gaze flickers to you, sympathy and uncertainty mingling in his dark eyes. But you can't meet them. You drop your head, staring at the floor as though it holds all the answers you need. Maybe if you don't look, you won't have to acknowledge what Sanzu just said. Maybe you can pretend you didn't hear it.

Mikey doesn't want you anymore.

"Stop this," Kakucho urges, stepping forward now, his movements careful, deliberate. "You're high. This isn't going to end well, you know that."

Sanzu's eyes snap up, wild and feral, like a predator guarding its kill. "Exactly." His voice drops to a venomous whisper. "So back the fuck off before I kill you too."

The tension between them is palpable, but Kakucho eventually steps back, his jaw tight with barely suppressed anger. He's seen what Sanzu is capable of when he's in this state. They all have.

"Just don't go too far," Kakucho mutters, his voice tight, his eyes flicking to you one last time before he steps aside. His reluctance lingers, but in the end, he's still letting you be dragged away.

Ran, sprawled lazily on the couch, barely lifts his head as he calls after Sanzu. "Mission's at nine. Try not to be dead before then."

Sanzu pays no mind to either of them. His grip tightens, and you're dragged deeper into Bonten's labyrinthine corridors, every step taking you further from any hope of intervention.

He pulls you into a small room, slamming the door behind him with enough force to rattle your bones. A click follows—the lock sliding into place—and you're alone. Alone with him.

The room is stark, clinical, a conference table dominating the space with its polished wood surface and neatly lined chairs. But there's nothing neat about what's happening now. The moment Sanzu shoves you against the table, hard enough that the edge bites into your lower back, the sterile, formal atmosphere of the room is obliterated.

His hand shoots up, fingers wrapping around your throat. The pressure is immediate, your breath catching in your throat as your vision blurs at the edges. You gasp instinctively, hands flying to his wrist, nails scraping against his skin, but he's too strong. His hold tightens further, cutting off more of your air, and panic grips you.

He leans in, his breath hot against your face, laced with the stench of drugs. His expression is wild, unhinged, pupils dilated and blown wide with intoxication. But beneath the drugs, there's something else—an anger, a bitterness that has nothing to do with you, but is aimed at you all the same.

"Now..." His voice is low, almost a growl. "What the fuck do I have to do to make you understand that you don't belong here?"

Your lungs burn, your head spinning as your fingers claw at his hand. I don't belong here? The thought pierces through your fog of fear. Maybe he's right. You're not sure of anything anymore—not after Mikey, not after what you saw.

You can't breathe, and everything is turning dark. Sanzu's face, his mocking grin, is the only thing in focus.

Tears well up, spilling over your lashes. But you're not crying because of the physical pain. It's the emotional torment that's killing you. The crushing realization that you are utterly, completely alone. No one's coming to save you.

Sanzu watches as you choke on your own sobs, and he laughs, low and cold. "Already crying?" he mocks. "I haven't even started yet."

But the tears won't stop. The dam inside you breaks, and you're gasping, sobbing uncontrollably in front of him. You can't take it anymore. Not this. Not after what Mikey's done to you.

"Just..." You choke on the words, your voice broken and hoarse. "Just fucking kill me already."

For a moment, there's silence. Then, his grip on your neck loosens just enough to let you breathe. You gasp, sucking in precious air, coughing as your lungs fight for life. But the relief is short-lived.

Sanzu's face hovers inches from yours, his smirk growing, eyes gleaming with dangerous amusement. "Kill you?" His tone is soft now, condescending. "Nah. That's too easy."

His fingers trace the curve of your jaw, rough, possessive. "I think I'd rather play with you a little longer."

You squeeze your eyes shut, hands pressing against your face as tears continue to spill down your cheeks. This feels so stupid. So, so stupid. Mikey's across the hall with his wife, living his perfect life, while you're stuck here with Sanzu—his insane, drugged-up number two.

What a fucking downgrade.

Suddenly, without warning, Sanzu grabs your face roughly, forcing you to look up at him through your tear-filled eyes.

"You're pathetic," he sneers before crushing his lips against yours.

The kiss is brutal, possessive, and filled with an overwhelming heat that makes your skin crawl. You try to push him away, but his weight presses you into the table, your wrists pinned beneath his hands. It's suffocating, just like his grip on your throat.

And then you taste it. Something bitter and foreign sliding past your lips. Your eyes widen in horror as you realize what he's doing.

He pulls back, his lips brushing yours as he whispers, "Swallow."

You shake your head, panic rising in your chest. No way. You're not going to swallow that. You try to spit it out, but his hand clamps down over your mouth, smothering any attempt to resist.

"Don't make this harder than it has to be," he murmurs, his tone soft but filled with menace. "Be a good girl... and swallow."

His words slither into your ears, so sweet and venomous all at once, poisoning what little willpower you have left. You want to fight him. You want to scream and tear away from him, but you can't. Your body is too sluggish, too weak to resist, and part of you doesn't want to.

It wants him to be right.

It's easier, isn't it? To let him take control. To stop resisting and just give in, let the numbness wash over you. Maybe then the pain of everything—of Mikey, of the betrayal, of this twisted mess—will fade, even just for a moment.

"I said swallow," Sanzu hisses, his patience thinning. "That. Shit."

You finally swallow the pill, the bitterness lingering on your tongue like a promise you'll regret. The drug settles deep inside you, blooming warmth spreading through your chest like wildfire, but there's no comfort in it. It only intensifies the chaos swirling in your mind—the betrayal, the loss, the desire to escape. It all collides in a sickening wave, leaving you gasping, clinging to the edge of the table as your body betrays you.

Sanzu watches you with an intensity that makes your skin crawl, his eyes dark, wide, and hungry. He's waiting. Waiting for the drug to take hold, waiting for you to crumble.

"Good girl," he breathes, and the words slide over your skin, soft and menacing. His gaze lingers, tracing every tremor in your body, every stifled breath.

The drug spreads quickly—too quickly. The next thing you know the room is spinning violently, the floor tipping beneath your feet, and you're stumbling as warmth floods your limbs. You try to steady yourself, but your body feels too light, too hot, like you're floating, disconnected from reality. Your breath quickens, panic swelling in your chest as your senses sharpen, every touch, every sound amplified to unbearable levels.

Sanzu's hands are still on you, his touch electric, sending jolts through your skin. You gasp, your heart racing as the euphoria spreads, tangling with the devastation inside you, turning everything into a dizzying blur of sensation. You can barely breathe, and yet, in the haze of it all, a part of you is aware of his gaze, watching you intently, reveling in your reaction.

"How does it feel? Hmm?" His voice is low, almost a purr, and you can feel his breath against your ear as he leans in closer.

"First time's always the best." He laughs, a quiet, sinister sound that rattles through your bones. "You'll feel good soon... or maybe you'll just cry harder. Who knows?"

You choke on a sob, the tears spilling over as the drug overtakes you, drowning you in heat and haze. Your body feels foreign, your mind too foggy to comprehend anything other than the intensity of it all. You want to fight it, fight him, but there's nothing to hold on to—nothing but him.

And that terrifies you.

"Let go," he murmurs. "Let it take over... Forget about him. Forget everything. Just feel."

Your body acts before your mind can catch up, your hand clutching the front of his shirt, fingers twisting into the fabric. It's an instinctual, desperate motion, driven by something deep inside—a need for warmth, for something to hold on to. You can't explain it, but you crave him now, the heat of his body, the solidity of his presence. You pull him closer, though you don't even understand why, though it feels all wrong.

"Look at you..." Sanzu's chuckle is dark, amused. "Hanging onto me like a lost puppy."

But he leans in anyway, his breath brushing against your neck as he speaks. His proximity feels like a lifeline, shielding you from the blinding lights that seem to intensify with every passing second. The room tilts, but his voice anchors you, even as it weaves dirty, degrading things in your ear—things that make your stomach twist, yet ignite something you don't want to acknowledge.

Your heart races, breath coming in ragged bursts. Everything is too intense—his touch, his words, the sensation of your body betraying you. You don't understand this feeling, this mixture of euphoria and humiliation. It's confusing, overwhelming, and yet, you can't shake the craving. The need for more.

His touch, his heat.

Then, without warning, he steps back.

The sudden absence of him is like a cold slap to the face, leaving you breathless and cold. Your body aches for the warmth he took with him, for the closeness that you didn't even know you craved. You hate it. You hate the emptiness he leaves behind.

He adjusts his waistcoat with a casual smirk, like this was all just a game to him, like your unraveling was just another form of entertainment.

"You're on your own now," he says, his voice detached, distant. "Enjoy the ride."

And just like that, he's gone, the door clicking shut behind him.

You're left sprawled across the table, the world spinning, lights burning into your skull. Your limbs are heavy, useless, and you try to move, to escape the overwhelming heat and dizziness suffocating you, but your body won't cooperate. You tumble to the floor, the carpet catching your fall with a soft thud.

A giggle bubbles up from your throat, though you don't know why. Everything feels distant, like you're floating, detached from reality. The warmth of the drug mingles with the cold ache of abandonment, creating a disorienting swirl of emotions that you can't make sense of.

And so you lie there, lost in the haze, your body sinking deeper into the plush floor as the laughter fades, leaving only the hollow emptiness behind.

Until, finally, the world pulls you into the darkness of sleep.

Manjiro Sano never cheated on you before. You've known him for nine years—nine long years where loyalty was never questioned, not once. He's never strayed, never looked at another woman the way he looks at you. That was the truth you clung to through all the chaos, the violence, the bloodshed. But tonight, the foundation of that truth crumbles before your eyes.

When you catch him with his wife, it's not exactly cheating, is it? Not when she's the one wearing the ring. Not when she's the one he made vows to. And yet, it feels like betrayal. If anything, you're the other woman now. Your position, the one you held so dearly, has shifted, without your consent.

He's the one betraying her, not you. But that logic doesn't make the pain any easier to bear. It still cuts deep, searing through you with what you had just witnessed in Mikey's office. You thought you were strong enough to endure it, thought you could compartmentalize the ache gnawing at your insides. You were wrong. The sight of them together burns itself into your mind like a wound that refuses to heal.

Until Sanzu forced that pill down your throat.

The memory floods back, vivid and suffocating. His twisted grin, the roughness of his hands, the way he made you feel so helpless. But now? Now you feel the strangest relief. The aching wound in your chest—the one Mikey and his wife carved out—fades into a distant blur, replaced by a creeping, unnatural numbness. Your mind is hazy, clouded, but in that haze, you find comfort.

The world felt kinder in that numbness. And for a moment, you were almost grateful for the relief Sanzu gave you. Almost.

When you wake up, the high is gone, leaving behind a pounding headache and a body that feels stiff, heavy, like someone drained the life from you. The floor feels strange under your hands, cold and unfamiliar. You blink, trying to orient yourself, and realize you're not on the floor anymore. Someone moved you—you're sprawled across the couch in the executive lounge, a blanket thrown haphazardly over you like an afterthought.

Your body screams in discomfort, muscles sore, your skin aching where his hands had pressed too hard. But the pain is secondary to the memories—Sanzu. That damn pill. The way he—

"You're awake."

The voice cuts through the fog in your mind, and your head snaps to the side. Mikey sits in a chair not far from you, the dim light casting shadows across his face. He's watching you, his expression unreadable, but his eyes... his eyes are different. Tired.

The night stretches behind him through the window, a dark sky lit by city lights. The office is quiet. Everyone else is gone. Even Sanzu.

It's just you and Mikey now.

You don't answer him. The ache in your chest resurfaces, sharper this time, suffocating as the image of him and his wife flashes in your mind again. It hits harder now, with Mikey sitting right in front of you, looking at you.

You push yourself up, your body swaying under the weight of exhaustion and leftover dizziness. Your throat is sore, bruised, where Sanzu's fingers had pressed too hard, too rough, forcing. You reach up instinctively, wincing at the tenderness, and you catch Mikey's gaze drop to your neck.

His jaw clenches. The air between you shifts—heavy, tense.

"He won't touch you again."

His voice is low, soft, but there's a dangerous edge beneath it, one that sends a chill through your veins. You know that tone. It's the tone he uses before someone dies.

You swallow, the reality sinking in. What has Mikey done? What did he do to Sanzu? The thought twists in your gut, unease settling deep inside you, but part of you pushes the thought away. Sanzu deserves whatever he gets, doesn't he? After what he did?

You swallow hard, trying to find your voice. "Forget about that... He gave me something. A pill."

Mikey's face shifts, unreadable for a moment, then he shrugs. "A pill? X, probably. He does that sometimes. Are you alright?"

That makes sense. No wonder you passed out so quickly. But it doesn't ease the anger boiling inside you, doesn't take away the humiliation of letting Sanzu drag you deeper into his twisted games when you were already at your lowest.

"I'm fine," you bite out, though it feels like a lie.

Fine? You're far from fine.

The words hang in the air, sharp, bitter, and when you look at Mikey, the ache in your chest becomes unbearable. You're not sure if it's anger or heartbreak that makes it so hard to breathe.

"Mikey..." you begin again, your voice cracking slightly, the words lodged in your throat. It's harder than you thought to say it, because once it's out, there's no taking it back.

"We can't just pretend like nothing's changed."

He doesn't look at you at first. He just stares at the floor, his jaw clenched tight, as though he's trying to force himself to say something, but can't. The silence stretches on painfully before he finally speaks, his voice so low you almost don't hear him.

"I know things are different." Each word sounds forced, like it's taking every ounce of strength for him to admit it. "But..."

Your heart clenches, your breath catching in your throat. There's always a 'but' with him, isn't there? Always some excuse, some reason why things can't go back to the way they were.

"But what, Mikey?" you ask, unable to stop yourself. It's not anger that drives you this time, but the desperation clawing at your insides. "You have feelings for her now, don't you?"

You watch him as he exhales slowly, his face still calm, almost detached. You wish he would say something, anything, to ease the ache in your chest. But he doesn't.

"I do," he says, his voice distant. It's a confession that feels like a knife to your heart. "I can't deny that. She's... she's gonna have my kid. It's not simple anymore."

The words hit you like a physical blow. You knew it, deep down, but hearing him say it aloud makes it real in a way you weren't prepared for. The sharp, bitter taste of betrayal lingers in the back of your throat. You swallow hard, trying to keep your emotions from spilling over, but your voice wavers when you speak again.

"And us?"

The question slips out, soft and fragile, but it cuts deeper than anything you've said before. You're asking about more than just your relationship—you're asking about the nine years you gave him, about the promises he made, about the love you once believed was unbreakable.

Mikey's eyes finally meet yours, and for a brief moment, you see the boy you once knew—the boy who swore he'd never leave you, who promised you forever under the stars when you were both too young to understand what that meant. His gaze softens for a second, a flicker of something almost tender, almost apologetic.

"I still care about you," he says, his voice low but steady. There's no hesitation in his tone, no doubt. But it's not the answer you were hoping for. "That hasn't changed."

But it has.

The truth of that slams into you with crushing finality. You shake your head, the weight of his words pressing down on you, suffocating you.

"Oh, it has, Mikey," you whisper, barely able to get the words out. "You know that."

The silence that follows is thick, heavy with everything left unsaid. Mikey doesn't argue, doesn't try to convince you otherwise. He just leans back in his chair, his hands falling limp at his sides, as though he's too exhausted to fight anymore. There's a defeat in his posture that wasn't there before, as if even he knows this is the end.

You want to scream at him, demand why it took him so long to be honest, why he let things fall apart so silently. But the words won't come. All that's left is the ache, the unbearable knowledge that the man you've loved for nearly a decade is slipping further away from you with every passing second.

Mikey looks like he's about to say something, his lips parting slightly, but then he falters, his shoulders sagging under the weight of whatever he's holding back.

"Maybe," he murmurs after a moment, his voice so soft you almost miss it. For the first time, he sounds vulnerable. "But I don't want to lose you. I can't..."

His voice breaks, just a little, and that cracks something inside of you too. Because it sounds like the truth, like the rawness of his feelings is finally breaking through the cold exterior he always wears. Nine years together, and this is where it's come to—a place where even his honesty feels too late. Too hollow. You know it's not enough. It never will be.

You don't want to lose him either. You don't want to believe that all those years meant nothing. But deep down, you know it already has. The moment she became his wife, the moment he chose her, you lost this battle. The war in your heart is over, and all that remains is the wreckage of what once was.

"You're already losing me," you whisper, the finality of it sinking in. Each word feels like a dagger in your own chest. "When you started choosing her, Mikey."

Mikey doesn't move, doesn't say a word. He just sits there, silent and still, like he's frozen in time. Maybe he doesn't have the strength to argue. Maybe, deep down, he knows it's true. He's losing you, and there's nothing left he can do to stop it.

You don't wait for his answer anymore. You've spent too long waiting for him to decide, too long hoping for a future that's already gone. The pain in your body—your aching muscles, the soreness from Sanzu's rough touch—it all fades into the background, drowned out by the unbearable weight of your broken heart.

You push yourself to your feet, your legs shaking slightly under the strain. But you don't let yourself falter. You can't, not now.

"You need to figure this out on your own," you say, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to stay strong. Your words are an ultimatum, a final plea for him to understand what he's done.

"Because I can't keep waiting for you to choose me. I'm not meant to be an option. I'm worth more than that."

There's nothing left to say. The words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of goodbye. Mikey doesn't move, doesn't speak, and that hurts more than anything else. He's letting you walk away.

Without another word, you turn and head toward the elevator. Each step feels like a thousand miles, like you're walking out of his life for good. And maybe you are. Maybe this is the end you've been dreading for so long.

The elevator doors close behind you with a soft click, and in the quiet of the enclosed space, the tears finally come. They fall silently at first, warm trails down your cheeks, but you don't wipe them away.

As the elevator descends, you let the tears flow freely. The weight of the years, the memories, the love you poured into him—it all hits you at once, and you don't stop it. You don't need to hide from the truth anymore.

Manjiro Sano has killed before. The thought of it had once terrified you, the cold certainty in his eyes when he spoke of violence always chilling.

You know this because you asked him, point-blank, one night when the weight of his world became too much to ignore. He didn't tell you directly, but the silence that followed, the coldness in his eyes, was answer enough. In that moment, the boy you knew, the boy you loved, disappeared into the shadows of the man he had become.

Still, you accepted him. Loved him anyway. You convinced yourself it was the only way to keep him—by accepting all of him, even the parts you couldn't bear to understand. You've always found a way to justify it—his actions, his choices, the darkness that clung to him like a second skin. Because loving him was the only thing you knew how to do. It became an instinct, a reflex, something that felt inevitable.

But now, the uncertainty gnaws at you, harder than ever before. Not just the heaviness of knowing who he is, but the gnawing question of what he's capable of—what he's done to the people around him.

What he's done to Sanzu.

Your mind races, replaying every detail of your last conversation with Mikey. The hard edge to his voice, the finality in his words. If Mikey killed him, it's because of you, isn't it? Because of what Sanzu did to you.

If Sanzu's dead, then his blood is on your hands.

That thought lodges itself deep in your chest, a weight too heavy to shake. Even after everything—after the drug, the violence, the way he pushed you to the edge—you can't stomach the idea of Sanzu dying because of you.

Which is why you find yourself here again, standing outside Sanzu's condominium in the middle of the night, your heart pounding so loud you can barely hear your own thoughts.

Mikey's words echo in your mind—his cold, distant voice, the final crack in everything you thought you knew about him. The realization had shattered you in ways you hadn't been prepared for.

It's over.

The words taste bitter on your tongue, but they ring with a truth that you can't deny. The boy you loved, the man you thought you'd stand beside forever—he's gone. And in his place is someone you no longer recognize.

Your feet move almost on their own as you approach Sanzu's door, but a hesitation stops you just before you reach the doorbell. Do you even know what you're doing here? What you want? You aren't sure. But the pull toward him, toward finding out what Mikey's done, is stronger than your doubts.

With a shaky breath, you press the doorbell. The silence that follows is deafening, punctuated only by the racing of your heart. Each second that passes feels like a lifetime, until finally, the shuffle of footsteps inside tells you someone's there.

The door swings open with a creak, and your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him. Relief washes over you—but only for a second. What replaces it is a sharp stab of pity.

Sanzu looks like hell. His one eye is swollen and bruised, a fresh bandage covering the right side of his face. His lips are split and caked with dried blood, a sight that twists something deep in your chest.

His trademark sneer is still there, but it's marred by the pain that's evident in the way he stands, slightly hunched, favoring one side. There's an anger in his eyes, but behind it, you can see the weariness, the vulnerability he would never admit to.

"What the fuck do you want now?" Sanzu snaps, his voice sharp despite the obvious discomfort he's in. He's trying to sound like his usual self, but you can tell the fight has been knocked out of him. He's hurting. Badly.

Your mouth opens to respond, the words on the tip of your tongue, but they die there. Seeing him like this—broken, battered—it's not what you expected. It shakes something loose inside of you. Your eyes scan his injuries, your mind reeling with the knowledge that Mikey did this. The boy you loved did this.

Mikey isn't supposed to be this brutal. Not with his own.

The thought makes your chest tighten painfully, and before you can stop it, the tidal wave of emotion crashes over you. Tears spill from your eyes, hot and unchecked. You thought you'd cried all the tears you had to give tonight, but this time, they come from a place deeper than heartbreak. This time, you're crying for everything—for Mikey, for Sanzu, for the person you've become in all this mess.

Sanzu's sneer fades slightly as he takes in the sight of you, replaced by an annoyed scowl. He's trying to hide his discomfort, but you can see the confusion in his eyes.

"The hell are you crying for? Stop that now!" His words are rough, but there's an edge of bewilderment in them.

He doesn't understand why you're here, why you're crying.

But you can't stop. The sobs come hard and fast, tearing through you in a way that makes it hard to breathe. You're overwhelmed, consumed by the realization that Mikey is no longer the man you fell in love with. When did he start to change? When did the violence become more than just a part of his world, but a part of him?

Sanzu watches you, his irritation growing as your sobs continue. He's never been good with emotions—especially not yours.

"Shit," he mutters under his breath, rubbing a hand across his face and wincing as he touches the bruise. "You're crying over him, huh?"

His words hit you like a slap, and more tears fall, a pitiful, uncontrollable mess. And in that moment, you don't care. You don't care that Sanzu's dangerous, that he's hurt you before, that he's the reason you ended up here in the first place. All you can think about is the fact that Mikey—your Mikey—is gone.

He's no longer the boy who used to hold you late at night, whispering promises of a future that now feels like a distant dream. He's no longer the man who looked at you like you were his entire world.

He's no longer yours.

Sanzu scoffs, the sound harsh in the quiet hallway. "Fuck's sake, stop crying. You're acting like a kid."

But even his sharp words don't reach you.

When you don't respond, don't even acknowledge him, something in Sanzu snaps. He can't stand it anymore—the emotions, the tears, the fact that you're standing here crying over someone else while he's falling apart.

"Goddammit!" he snarls, and before you can blink, he slams the door in your face.

The sound echoes in the empty hallway, a loud, final punctuation to the moment. You're left standing there, your body trembling as the sobs finally start to quiet, though the tears continue to stream down your cheeks. You're alone again, and the weight of that reality hits you harder than anything else.

Mikey is gone. And so is the life you thought you'd have.

Manjiro Sano hated seeing you cry. Every time your tears would spill, it was like the world stopped spinning. His face would twist in pain, even if the tears weren't his fault. He once said that when you cried, it felt like he had failed—like he should have protected you from whatever caused them.

He always pulled you into his arms when you broke down, his touch so gentle it was almost unreal. He would stroke your hair, whispering that everything was okay, hiding you in the crook of his shoulder so you wouldn't feel so exposed.

But that Mikey? That Mikey is long gone.

Now you're standing outside Sanzu's condo unit, your fingers shaking as you try to dry your tear-streaked face. The cold air bites at your skin, or maybe it's the weight of what's happened tonight that chills you to the bone.

The second time you've cried in front of Sanzu today.

The first time, his hands were around your throat, forcing a pill past your lips, his eyes distant and clouded with drugs. The second time, there was no pill, no high to hide behind—just bruises, pain, and a door slammed in your face.

You shouldn't have come here, but at least you know he's alive. Mikey hadn't killed him, though something in the pit of your stomach told you it could have easily gone that way. You should feel relieved. Instead, the relief is mingled with anger, a deep-seated frustration that makes your heart pound even harder.

Just as you wipe away the last tear, the door swings open again.

Sanzu stands in the doorway, his silhouette stark against the dim light inside. His scowl deepens as his eyes land on you, scanning your face like he's surprised you're still standing there.

Then, without a word, he grabs your wrist and pulls you inside, slamming the door shut behind you. His grip is rough, but it loosens as soon as you're inside, leaving you stunned and blinking in the middle of his condo unit.

He disappears into another room and comes back with a box of tissues, shoving it toward you without a word. You take it, still in shock, as your eyes land on the bandage on his cheek. It's crooked, slapped on without much care, and his busted lip is still untreated, blood crusting around the edges, making him look even more broken than usual. You flinch inwardly at the sight.

"Did you get that wound treated?" Your voice is softer than you intended, concern slipping through the cracks in your resolve.

Sanzu glares at you. "What's it to you?"

You ignore his harshness, stepping closer. "You need to clean it properly," you say as your eyes fall to the faded scars at the corners of his mouth, scars you've always tried not to stare at too long.

"Or it'll leave... a scar."

"Yeah? So what?" he mutters, brushing off your concern as he walks away.

You stare at him, the words catching in your throat. The sight of him—bruised and bandaged sloppily—somehow makes your chest ache in ways you don't fully understand.

"Don't you have any antiseptic?" you ask, turning toward the door. "I'll go buy some if—"

"I have it," he grunts, cutting you off. "Top shelf, next to you. You'd think I wouldn't know how to deal with a damn wound in this line of work?"

You glance at the haphazard bandage on his cheek, clearly not impressed by his self-care. Still, you open the shelf and retrieve a small emergency kit.

"Then why didn't you treat the cut on your lip?" you ask, your voice a little firmer this time as you sit on the edge of his couch. "Surely you know you need to put antiseptic on it."

Sanzu grumbles under his breath, looking away. "Because... it fucking hurts, alright?"

You freeze for a second, blinking at him in surprise. Sanzu—the man who seems to thrive on chaos and pain—can't handle the sting of a simple cut? It's almost absurd, and yet, in that moment, you glimpse a flicker of something real beneath his usual mask. Vulnerability.

"I didn't think you were afraid of pain," you murmur, more to yourself than to him.

"I'm not afraid of it," he snaps, his voice rising defensively. "I just fucking hate it."

There's a childishness in his tone that catches you off guard, like he's throwing a tantrum rather than admitting weakness. The outburst lingers in the air for a moment before you decide to ignore it, reaching for the antiseptic in the first aid kit.

"Let me treat it." Your voice is calm, quiet. An olive branch, if only he'd take it.

Sanzu stares at you, his jaw tight, his eyes narrowing. "Forget it," he mutters, brushing you off. "I don't need you all over my business."

"You're a dick, you know that?" you say, watching him limp slightly as he heads toward the pantry. The guilt sits heavy in your stomach.

He doesn't even glance back as he opens the fridge, retrieving a beer. "And I get paid for it," he replies, voice flat, devoid of his usual smugness.

You roll your eyes as he cracks the can open, lifting it to his lips, his pink hair a mess, like he's been through more than just a fight with Mikey. The black shirt and sweatpants he's wearing make him look almost... domestic. It hits you, suddenly—this familiarity, this strange sense of calm despite everything. It reminds you of Mikey, the way he used to walk around your apartment. The way things used to be.

Your heart twists.

"We broke up," you blurt out, the words spilling from your lips before you can stop them. It's like ripping off a bandage—quick and painful, but it has to be done.

Sanzu pauses mid-sip, his back still turned to you. You watch as he downs the rest of the beer in one long gulp, crushing the can in his hand before tossing it aside.

"'Bout time. I'm surprised it took him this long to figure it out," he mutters, but his words lack bite. There's no usual mockery, no cruelty, just... hollow indifference.

You study him, sensing the weight of his own pain, the bruises left by Mikey—not just on his body but somewhere deeper. You want to ask, to probe at the cracks in his usual defenses, but you don't. Instead, you take a breath and shift the conversation.

"I know, right?" You force a smile that feels thin, brittle. "I'm so heartbroken." The sarcasm coats your words, but it can't hide the tremor in your voice.

"You must be feeling pretty good right now, so why not do me a favor?" You motion for him to sit beside you. "Sit here and let me treat your wounds."

Sanzu turns slowly, his eyes scanning you as if weighing your request. You can tell he's torn, that a part of him wants to accept the help, even if his pride keeps getting in the way.

You sit there, waiting, knowing that if he needed to push you away, he would've already done it. You don't say anything, just hold your ground, offering him something he's clearly not used to—genuine care.

Finally, with a sharp exhale, he mutters, the words almost begrudging, "Fine. But don't expect me to thank you."

You smile softly, shaking your head as you hold out the antiseptic. "I wouldn't dream of it."

He walks toward you, but instead of sitting next to you, he drops down on the opposite couch, legs sprawled out carelessly, almost as if daring you to come to him instead. You raise an eyebrow, the familiar exasperation rising within you.

"You could at least make it easier for me," you grumble, standing up and walking over.

There's a flicker of amusement in his eyes as you sit down in front of him on the coffee table, closer now, the scent of alcohol faint but present on his breath. He watches you carefully, eyes following your movements with that predatory focus he always seems to carry, even in moments like this.

When you peel back the bandage on his cheek, revealing the jagged scrape underneath, he winces, trying but failing to hide it. You smirk despite yourself, dabbing the wound with antiseptic.

"You're such a baby," you tease, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

The reaction is immediate. "Am not," he snaps, his voice cutting through the space between you. "Don't fucking call me that again." There's a sharp edge to his words, but you can hear the vulnerability beneath it, the bruised pride of someone who's used to fighting, not being taken care of.

You ignore his outburst, focusing on his wound. This time, you're more careful, your touch gentler as you apply the ointment. His lips press into a thin line, and you can feel the effort it takes for him to sit still. There's something oddly endearing about it, watching him struggle with the idea of being vulnerable, even for a moment.

He really hates being called a baby, doesn't he?

When you finish with the bandage, you move on to his split lip, focusing on the dried blood caked around the cut. He avoids your gaze, scowling as if pretending this isn't happening.

As your fingers brush against the faded scars at the corners of his mouth, curiosity gnaws at you. Before you can stop yourself, you press a thumb to one of the scars, feeling the jagged line beneath your skin.

Sanzu jerks back, his eyes blazing as he swats your hand away. "What the hell?" he growls, the vulnerability from a moment ago vanishing beneath the weight of his anger.

"Sorry," you murmur, pulling your hand back. "I got distracted."

The air between you shifts again, tense and fragile. You can tell you've touched something he doesn't want to share, a part of him that's still too raw, too guarded. And yet, you can't help but wonder what it would take for him to open up—to let you see more than just the surface.

You watch him stands abruptly in front of you, like he's about to bolt. "But I'm not done yet," you lie, trying to keep him there, keep the moment from slipping away.

He hesitates, glaring at you, but after a second, he sits back down with a grunt. "Whatever, just get it over with. I don't have all night to wait around."

You stay still, your hands resting in your lap as you stare at him, not moving to pick up the first aid kit again. "Can I ask you something?"

Sanzu slouches deeper into the couch, his eyes narrowing at you. "What now?"

You take a breath, steadying yourself. "How did you get those scars?"

The question hangs in the air between you, heavy and loaded with meaning. For a moment, you expect him to laugh it off, to mock you for even asking. But instead, he just stares at you, his gaze cold and distant, like he's weighing whether or not to answer.

When he finally speaks, his voice is low, almost a whisper. "Mikey gave them to me."

The admission hits you like a punch to the gut. Mikey? Mikey did that to him? You feel your heart sink, your stomach twisting in disbelief. Judging by the faded look of the scars, it wasn't recent—this happened years ago. Long before Bonten. So why...?

"Why?" Your voice cracks, betraying the flood of emotions rising inside you.

Sanzu's eyes darken, his expression hardening. "I don't fucking remember," he snaps, his tone sharp, like he's daring you to push further.

But the look in his eyes tells you more than his words ever could. This isn't something he wants to talk about—not with you, not with anyone.

You lower your gaze, staring down at your hands as the weight of everything threatens to crush you again. The urge to cry surfaces, hot tears stinging your eyes. You've cried so much today, and in front of him of all people. It's humiliating at this point.

You stand, trying to escape the overwhelming weight of it all. "It's done. So I'll just... go," you mumble, stepping toward the door.

Before you can make it far, Sanzu's hand wraps around your wrist, his fingers cool against your skin. His grip is light, almost hesitant. You look down at where his fingers hold you, then back up at him.

"What is it?"

You can feel your voice trembling, on the verge of breaking. You're so close to falling apart, and he's just... watching.

"Want this?" he asks suddenly, holding up a bottle filled with colorful pills.

He gives it a small shake, and the pills rattle softly inside. The smirk that spreads across his face now is familiar, predatory. This is the Sanzu you know, the one you hate.

"This shit's the real deal. Remember the other stuff I gave you earlier? That was just a trial run." He laughs, that low, mocking sound that makes your blood boil.

Your chest tightens as you stare at the pills, your mind flashing back to the euphoria from earlier. It had felt so good, so easy, like all the pain had vanished for a while. And yet... you narrow your eyes at him, anger replacing the temptation. How could he think you'd ever take anything from him again after what he did?

Sanzu sees the anger flash across your face, and the smirk fades. He lets go of your wrist and looks away, his expression hardening again. "Forget it. Just leave."

For a moment, you almost do. You almost walk out the door and leave him behind. But something makes you stop. The way his hand had felt around your wrist, the way his voice had softened when he realized what he was offering. You glance back at him, his body tense as he stares ahead, avoiding your gaze. And suddenly, you don't want to leave anymore.

"I want it," you say quietly, turning fully to face him. "Give it to me."

Sanzu's eyes flick back to you, surprise flashing briefly before his usual sneer returns. "Fuck no," he grunts. "You think I'm gonna give you this just to watch you walk out the door?"

There's a pause. His words hang in the air, and for a split second, his eyes widen slightly, like he's just surprised himself with the admission. He hadn't meant to say that, but now it's out there—he doesn't want you to leave. Not yet.

He actually wants your company.

You can't help the bitter smile that tugs at your lips. "What, are you gonna choke me again?" you ask, your voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

His head snaps toward you, confusion etched into his features. "Huh? No. That's—" He stumbles over the words, almost defensive, like he hadn't considered how far he'd gone before.

Without waiting for him to finish, you plop down on the couch beside him, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body. You extend your hand, palm up, eyes fixed on his.

"Fine. Give me that, Sanzu."

For a moment, he doesn't move, his gaze searching your face. Then, slowly, a smirk tugs at his lips again—the same smug, infuriating expression you've come to expect from him.

Manjiro Sano has warned you more than once: avoid Sanzu when he's high. The fact that you were Mikey's girlfriend has always been enough to keep Sanzu from crossing certain lines when he's sober, but when the drugs took over, his already fragile self-control shatters.

The warning always carries weight, like a veiled threat that lingers at the back of your mind, but tonight... tonight, you don't care. You're too numb, too broken, and the reckless part of you craves the release Sanzu offers. The part of you that wants to forget Mikey.

The pill between Sanzu's fingers gleams like forbidden fruit, a dual-colored capsule that promises escape. His grin is lazy, predatory, as if the thrill of watching you self-destruct is part of his form of entertainment. Without a word, you reach for the pill, swallowing it down without hesitation. The bitter taste lingers at the back of your throat, but the anticipation of oblivion drowns out any second thoughts.

Within minutes, the edges of reality begin to blur. The room shifts, the walls breathe, and the floor ripples like water beneath your feet. Colors bleed into each other, swirling in dizzying patterns that make you feel weightless. The cool marble floor presses against your cheek as you lie sprawled on the ground, your limbs heavy yet disconnected from your body.

Above you, like a ghostly shadow, Sanzu lounges on the couch, watching you with an intensity that both unnerves and thrills you. He takes a pill of his own before the next wave hits you—stronger this time, pulling you under completely.

For a fleeting moment, you let everything go—the pain, the heartbreak, the memories of Mikey's distant eyes as you walked away from him. All the weight of your unspoken love, of your shattered heart, evaporates in the fog of euphoria. It's terrifying how easy it is to forget, to lose yourself in the numbness. But somewhere, deep in the pit of your soul, the fear lingers.

What will be left of you when the high wears off?

When you wake the next morning, reality presses you down like a vise. Your head pounds, each throb a reminder of the drug still pulsing through your system. The soft morning light filters through the unfamiliar room's windows. You blink, disoriented, trying to piece together what happened.

Right... Sanzu. You were in his condo last night, and this—this must be his bedroom.

As you shift, the soft rustle of sheets draws your attention, and your heart leaps into your throat. Sanzu lies beside you, his face buried in the pillow, his hair a wild mess of pink strands. He's half-naked, the blanket draped loosely over his hips, and for a moment, panic seizes you.

Your fingers instinctively brush over your clothes—still on, thank God. Relief washes over you, but it's fleeting. The haze of the previous night is still there, muddy and unclear, and you have no idea what happened between the two of you after you'd lost yourself to the high.

Whatever it was, it doesn't seem like you had sex with him. At least... you hope you didn't. Two people who are really high wouldn't bother to put their clothes back on after sex, right?

You sit up carefully, the bed creaking softly beneath you, and that's when you notice them—his scars. Lines of jagged, raw skin crisscross his back like a violent roadmap of his past. Some scars are old, barely visible against his pale skin, while others are fresh, still healing from whatever recent chaos he's endured.

You know that Sanzu lives in violence, that it clings to him like a second skin, but seeing the marks so intimately, so vulnerably laid bare before you—it stirs something inside you. A deep, unsettling pity, but you quickly shove it down, pushing it past the ache in your chest.

Your shift your gaze to the floor, where the bottle of pills lies tipped over, colorful capsules scattered across the marble floor. How many did you take last night? Too many, you're sure. You feel their lingering effects, the way they dull the edges of your thoughts, how they slow your movements.

Shaking off the grogginess, you move toward the door, eyes landing on the katana propped up against the wall. A glint of steel in the early light.

You pause, your hand gripping the door handle. The memory of what Sanzu did before flashes through your mind—the way he choked you, forcing the first pill down your throat. Mikey has punished him for it, but still, you felt guilty enough to treat his wounds. Then, stupidly, you let yourself get high with him again. Willingly.

But the anger still simmers under the surface. All those cruel words over the years, the taunts, the smirks, the way he looks down on you. He's infuriating. And this... this is your chance to get back at him.

Without thinking, you walk over to the katana. The hilt feels cool and foreign in your hand as you lift it, the weight of it surprising you. But you don't hesitate.

As you drag the katana behind you, the metal scraping loudly against the floor, the sound reverberates in the silent hallway. Each step feels like defiance, like a rebellion against everything Sanzu represents—the control, the twisted power he holds over you.

In the basement, you find the garbage bin. Without a second thought, you dump the katana in, the clang of steel against metal echoing in the empty space. It isn't enough to truly hurt him, but it's enough to piss him off, enough to make him notice.

And that's what you want, isn't it? To get under his skin the way he always gets under yours? To make him feel something—anything—that isn't amusement at your suffering?

As you walk away, a small, bitter smile tugs at your lips. You know this won't end well. You're playing with fire, and Sanzu is dangerous when pushed. But the part of you that's still reeling from Mikey, still wounded and desperate, craves this chaos. You want to see what will happen when Sanzu finds the katana, want to watch the fury flash across his face. Because for once, you aren't the one falling apart.

Maybe it's madness, or maybe it's something deeper—a need to reclaim some form of control in a world that's stripped you of it. Either way, you aren't running anymore.

You'll face whatever comes next, even if it destroys you.

Manjiro Sano haunts you everywhere. He's with you in the empty bed, a ghost beside you as you stare at the ceiling, counting the cracks in the dark. When you’re in the kitchen, his voice echoes in your mind, teasing, laughing, pulling you into memories that make your chest tighten with an ache that hasn't dulled. In the mirror, you see him staring back, his familiar, cold gaze mocking you as you brush your teeth, as if daring you to forget the life you shared with him.

It's been weeks since the breakup, but the weight of nine years doesn't just vanish. You were naive to think it would be easy to let go. After all, you didn't just lose Mikey—you lost the future you had envisioned, the dream of always being by his side, no matter what.

You'd never loved anyone else, never felt the safety of another person's arms. You never had a reason to think you'd need to. And when you first learned about the arranged marriage three years ago, you foolishly believed that nothing could ever come between you and Mikey, that love would always win. However, reality had other plans.

Eventually, it all became too much. So, you made a decision. You packed your things and left the apartment you had once shared with him, that place filled with memories—of laughter, of love, of a time when he was truly yours. But now, those memories felt like weights pulling you under, drowning you in a past that you could no longer live in.

So, you found a new place, a smaller apartment far away from that suffocating ghost. You didn't tell anyone from Bonten. Not a soul knew where you were now. It was supposed to be your clean break.

But fate never lets you escape that easily.

Weeks after you've settled into your new life, you find yourself out for a casual walk, basking in the simplicity of a quiet day. An ice cream cone in one hand, a plastic bag of snacks in the other—small, ordinary comforts in an otherwise chaotic life. You're beginning to breathe again, to feel the freedom of being on your own. And then you see him.

Mikey.

He's sitting outside a café, his silver hair catching the sunlight, his posture as calm and unreadable as ever. But next to him is her. His wife. The sight of them together makes your stomach lurch, your heart clenching as if gripped by an iron fist. She's laughing, and though Mikey's face is still as cold and impassive as always, there's something different about him. Softer. He looks at her in a way that sends a sharp pang through your chest.

He's moving on.

Your breath catches, and for a moment, the world feels like it's tilting on its axis. You need to get out of here. Now.

Before you can make your escape, though, you spot them. Ran's lazy, amused expression is the first thing you notice, his sharp eyes locking onto you with that all-too-familiar smirk.

"Well, well. Look who it is," he drawls, his voice dripping with mockery. But it's the presence next to him that makes your blood run cold.

Sanzu.

The moment his gaze lands on you, the air around you thickens. His eyes narrow, his lips curl into a sneer, and you know. He knows. You can almost feel the anger rolling off of him, simmering beneath the surface. You've crossed a line with him, and now, you'll pay for it.

Your heart hammers in your chest, panic seizing your throat. The plastic bag slips from your hand, the ice cream falling, forgotten, as it splatters against the pavement. You don't even care. All that matters now is getting away.

You turn and run.

"Oi!" Sanzu's voice slices through the air, sharp and dangerous. "Stop running!"

Like hell you will.

You know what he's capable of, and you know there's nothing holding him back now—not Mikey, not anyone. Not after what you did. The memory flashes in your mind—the clattering of metal, the weight of his katana in your hands as you threw it into the trash. The reckless satisfaction of it all.

You can hear his footsteps behind you, the sound growing louder with each passing second. He's faster than you remember, and your chest tightens in fear. Sanzu is dangerous even when he's calm, but this?

This is personal.

The crowded street is a blur as you dash through it, weaving past confused onlookers, your heart pounding so hard it feels like it might burst. Dignity is the last thing on your mind right now—you're running for survival. And yet, amidst the chaos, a ridiculous thought crosses your mind: If I die today, I'll die looking like shit. No makeup, no cute clothes, just sweat and terror.

You can feel him gaining on you, the heat of his rage practically burning at your back, and desperation grips you. You need to think fast, or you won't make it. That's when you spot the riverbank up ahead, the water glistening in the distance.

Without a second thought, you sprint toward it, your feet barely touching the ground as you throw yourself into the icy water. The shock of the cold steals your breath, but you don't stop moving. You swim, forcing your body through the water, the chill biting into your skin.

When you finally break the surface, you gasp, a fleeting moment of triumph swelling in your chest. You've escaped.

Or so you think.

Your heart sinks when you see him standing on the riverbank, his figure dark and ominous against the bright sky. Sanzu is already peeling off his blazer, his eyes fixed on you with a predator's focus. There's no hesitation as he tosses it aside and kicks off his shoes. Of course, he's going to follow you. Of course, he's not letting this go.

You should have known better.

Sanzu dives into the water without a second thought, cutting through the current with frightening speed. And that's when it hits you—he isn't just chasing you out of anger. He's chasing you because you've crossed a line you can never uncross. Because Sanzu doesn't follow any rules, doesn't have any boundaries.

And neither of you are sane enough to stop now.

< part two ends >

author's notes. heyy beloved sanzu kinnies <3 i'm so so happy & grateful for all the love you showed to part one of BNT that i decided to bless you guys with twice as long part two hehe :D hope you guys enjoyed it! i've got some fun stuff planned for sanzu and y/n in the next part... so please stay tuned! also, i'd love to hear your thoughts so do leave some notes & comments!! tysm for reading guys! stay awesome ☆(>ᴗ•)

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