#i don't think i'm making it by the end of tomorrow 😭😭😭

[airenyah]

A LOOK AT STYLE'S JOURNEY | Ep 3

(Ep1+2)

I really wanted to drop this before Episode 4, but the thing is I really really really struggled with this episode. The first two episode were very clear to me, so clear even that I managed binge-write my first post within a single night after having spent the previous night rewatching the episodes and taking notes. I kept asking myself the question "Style does this and acts like this, but why?" and quickly found my answers. But looking at episode 3? I really struggled with the "but why".

But let's get into it anyway. Not that I finish this post only when the final episode drops lol.

~~~ Spoiler warning for episode 4 ~~~

To recap: when we last saw Fadel and Style together in episode 2 Fadel ambushed Style in the locker room and basically declared war on Style. Style launched counterattacks. They did not part on the best of terms.

Pronoun situation: In my first meta post I kept up with their pronoun use on a scene by scene basis. This time I won't do that, because they consistently use the rude guu/mueng pronouns for each other throughout the entire episode without any significant pronoun changes.

No. 1: RAWR

The very first sequence at the heavy metal bar is where my first problem already arises: I am undecided on whether Style went there on purpose to find Fadel or if he went there of his own accord to have fun and just happened to run into Fadel completely by chance. Because you could make arguments both FOR and AGAINST Style showing up specifically for Fadel.

AGAINST: Style does look kinda surprised when walks up to Fadel. When they're chatting by the counter Style says he's here all the time (which is something he doesn't say about the running track or the gym – two spots that we know he only went to for Fadel). We also don't get to see Style looking at the notebook like we do before he bugs Fadel at the running track for the first time or later in the episode when he shows up at the support group meeting. What's more, Style doesn't really attempt to stick to Fadel no matter what until Fadel either physically gets rid of him or just walks away. Instead Style leaves of his own accord to have fun with people who aren't Fadel and also seems perfectly content to do so.

FOR: When Kant looks through the notebook in ep2 after Bison hands it to him we can see that the bar is in there. So Style should know this bar is one of Fadel's go-to spots. Style could be feigning surprise when he walks up to Fadel to make it look like a chance meeting and he could also be lying about being there all the time.

Whether or not Style came to the bar in order to seek out Fadel specifically or not, when he walks up to Fadel and sits down next to him it's all in a friendly manner. His behavior has an air of Oh hey there person that I know, let me say hello! to it.

Style is once again trying to involve Fadel in an amiable conversation despite their confrontation last time they saw each other. Or maybe he's trying to involve Fadel in an amiable conversation because of the confrontation last time they saw each other. Style's friendly approach makes it clear that he's not holding any grudges about it. Fadel is not up for a friendly conversation, though. In the scene by the counter he says a total amount of two sentences to Style (or even just one, if you don't count the "no" as a single sentence). Style tries to get Fadel to socialize, to get Fadel to come out of his grumpy shell and go dance with him a little bit, to loosen up and scream a little bit. Fadel won't budge. So Style gives him his space and walks off, but not without inviting Fadel to follow him just in case Fadel miraculously changes his mind. After Style clinks bottles with his (new?) friends he looks back at Fadel and nods at him before getting busy with his friends.

I want to talk about that nod for a quick moment. Because as an introvert who tends to be quiet and shy in a crowd (especially a crowd of strangers or people I don't know well) I have my fair share of experience of being alone in a crowd. And I adore that Style is making contact with Fadel again, even though he already walked away and their conversation is actually over. As I've mentioned in some tags before, some of Style's core personality traits really remind me of a dear old friend of mine. We had a time in our late (ish) teens where we'd hang out at our youth leader's flat every day. My friend and my youth leader would often play Magic: The Gathering, which is something that's really not my thing and so I'd be "left out" that is I'd be chilling next to them doing my own thing or just watching them, not understanding shit. They'd be in the middle of a game and my friend would sometimes randomly look up and nod at me like that or he would pull faces at me or do some other random shit to communicate with me for a second before focusing back on the game. These small gestures were something I always really appreciated because they made me feel included, even though I had no interest in the game and couldn't really be part of it. The way Style nods at Fadel reminds me of that. He's making contact with Fadel across the room, involving him, including him. It's a nod kind of like Hey, I see you. And yeah, Fadel doesn't really want to be seen, except deep down maybe he does.

Which brings me to the choking scene. Style is having fun with his friends (or random people he just met??). He spots Fadel, excuses himself and walks over. Almost as if he saw Fadel standing there all on his own and decided to talk to him because "You're supposed to have fun with your friends at a place like this". As if he doesn't want Fadel be all alone. So he walks up to him and starts another conversation. We get another confirmation that Style isn't holding any grudges about their confrontation in the locker room, because he actively teases Fadel about it. I'm not even sure Style is purposefully being flirty here, I think he really is going more for a playful callback to the locker room confrontation, mixed with a challenge of "So? Are you gonna go rough on me again? I dare you to do it again!"

What's more, I think at this point his brain is set to I must hit on him, so I must drop flirty shit whenever possible. So when he says Fadel looks sexy, while there sure is some truth to it and he certainly finds Fadel sexy in general, I don't think he really 100% means it in that specific moment. It's almost more as if he's saying it out of habit, just for the sake of dropping flirty shit and compliments at any given opportunity.

All in all, that night at the bar Style isn't really being annoying or flirting with Fadel on purpose. He spends the night trying to make friends with Fadel again, trying to make amiable conversation, trying to involve him in friendly banter, trying to genuinely connect with him. As if to get Fadel to open up and come out of the shell that he has deeply buried himself in. And I think what this interaction also shows is that Style is starting to have positive feelings towards Fadel. It's the beginning of Style genuinely liking Fadel more than he dislikes him. Style is slowly starting to worry and to care about him.

No. 2: The Best Way to Burn Calories

Now for this scene we know for a fact Style is here for Fadel specifically. Once again, Style blurts out flirty shit and once again it doesn't sound entirely genuine as if he actually means what he says. Kant has sent him on a mission to hit on Fadel, but Style still hasn't quite figured out how to get through to him. Fadel continuously ignores or even blocks Style's attempts to make friends with him or to genuinely connect to him and the flirting also doesn't seem to be working. (Oh, Style. If only you knew just how well your genuine flirting at the gym worked on Fadel 🤭)

Style knows very well that Fadel is annoyed by him (Fadel even explicitly tells him that it's a bad morning if he sees Style). And I think at this point Style has decided that if he can't be a positive presence in Fadel's life he'll simply just be a negative presence then. Since that will still bring him closer to his goal than being no presence in Fadel's life at all would bring him. So he just shows up, bugs Fadel to remind him of Style's existence and also drops flirty shit at any given opportunity while he's at it regardless of whether he genuinely means what he says in that moment or not. And while I'm sure there is some truth behind Style's words, I think a lot of the flirting really is more of a routine now, a habit. Since that is what he was hired to do after all.

Side quest: Body and Heart

One thing this scene touches on is that Style definitely isn't in it just for sex alone but that he desires an emotional component as well: he explicitly says he wants Fadel's body AND his heart. As I said, I don't think Style really meant the flirting here, but I do think there is some truth to his words, namely his desire to not just have meaningless sex but to also be in love.

I think, unlike Kant, Style actually isn't too big on casual one-night stands. I think he enjoys flirting around, because Style is an attention hoe, but if I had to guess I would say most of the time he doesn't end up actually sleeping with anyone. Style is charming and I think he has a lot of fun with flirty banter. And he definitely loves the attention: in episode 1 he clearly enjoys it when the girls are admiring his waist that he proudly shows off at the bowling alley, in episode 2 he gives Fadel permission to look at his naked body, and then later in episode 3 he also looks very happy and satisfied after those girls call him "hot" when he's dropping of the car keys at the host club.

Style loves the attention, he enjoys the flirty banter, but I think sleeping around no strings attached isn't truly his kind of thing. We get another hint of this in episode 1 when Kant claims "[Y]ou’re in no position to call me out when you’ve been playing around just the same". Style replies "I don’t know what you’re talking about" in a disapproving tone and with a skeptical face.

In fact, in Thai he says:

อะไรของมึงว่ะ [àrai - kŏng - mueng - wâ] what - of - you - [rude particle]

I haven't checked this phrase back with a native speaker yet, but I've often heard it in the sense of Wtf is your problem? or Wtf is up with you? or Wtf are you talking about? To me, the English subs sound almost more like Style is deflecting Kant's statement while in Thai to me it feels like Style is actively disagreeing with Kant's words (feel free to correct me on this if I'm wrong @happypotato48 🙏).

Like, Style clearly doesn't approve of Kant's accusations and immediately goes attention seeking to highlight that that is what he's all about:

Going with the crop top shot specifically because I'm SURE some of you will really appreciate it lol

The literal translation of what he says here is actually more like "I'm just checking my rating":

กูก็แค่เช็คเรตติ้งกูเฉยๆว่ะวะ [guu - gôr kâe - chék - ret-dting - guu - chŏiie chŏiie - wâ wá] I - only - check - rating - I/my - just - [rude particle]

Style wants eyes on him, not hands, and he wants to be rated the hottest person in town by everyone who takes just one single look at him, thank you very much.

What's more, right before this exchange he also tells Kant to quit his one-night stands and get a real lover, so we know Style is very much team "having a boyfriend is a good thing". Style not being too big on meaningless one-night stands will also be reflected later in episode 3 when Style tells Fadel " What kind of man do you take me for? I might look like I play around, but I’m damn devoted to love. I want to date*" when he complains about Fadel ditching him right after their hook-up as well as in episode 4 when Style tells him "I'm not just anyone. I need clarity" when Fadel points out "Some people [have sex] countless times and never called it anything" after Style asks what their relationship is now that they've hooked up twice. We see it also in the way how enraged and genuinely hurt Style is in episode 4 after the stunt Fadel pulls in the kitchen. For Style, sex isn't just sex and I think as impulsive as he can be he still makes very deliberate decisions about who he actually sleeps with.

Kant may claim Style plays around just like Kant does, but the thing is that night at the bowling alley? It's Kant who finds himself someone to spend a fun night with while we see Style leaving the bowling alley all by himself without his own hook-up. You could even make arguments about how Style doesn't actually like doing the pursuing and much rather prefers to be pursued. But more on that later.

*(Actually, literally he doesn't say "I want to date" but "I want a faen" -> confirming once again Style is Team Steady Boyfriend)

No. 3: Sweet Meat

Just like in the scene at the sports field right beforehand, Style continues to be an annoying presence in Fadel's life, if he can't manage to be a positive presence. For this scene he even turns up his annoyingness level a little more than at the running track. What's very interesting here compared to the meat stall scene from episode 2 is that here in episode 3? Style doesn't give a shit that Fadel turns away and walks off without buying anything. In episode 2 he was very quick to yield in order to keep Fadel from running away, but this time Style doesn't care that Fadel just ditches him. When Fadel has gone, Style immediately hurries after him. He's already got his next move planned.

No. 4: Burger Burger Burger Burger

I think Style tries out a different strategy here: maybe if he helps Fadel, Fadel will finally soften up to him. What's also interesting is that every word out of Style's mouth suddenly sounds a lot more genuine now compared to what he was spouting at the running track or at the market earlier that day. And I think it's because he (thinks he) is helping Fadel.

Style likes to help. We see this in the way he agrees to help his best friend by hitting on some weirdo guy (yes, of course he's also getting a car out of this deal, but I think part of the reason why he agrees to the deal is also because he genuinely wants to help Kant find love), we see this in the way he immediately takes orders from customers no questions asked in episode 2 right before he meets Bison, and we'll see this even later this episode when he throws himself into the fight despite having no fighting skills whatsoever, just because he thinks three against one is unfair and wants to help.

And if we go back to the thought that maybe, just maybe, Style actually doesn't like to pursue others then it's no surprise that his words here suddenly sound a lot more genuine now that he (thinks he) is helping Fadel compared to his half-assed attempts at flirting earlier that day on the sports field and at the market. Helping people is Style's thing. He's back in his comfort zone which means now he can be much more sincere in his words and his actions again, because there is less of a need to pretend to be a type of person that he just simply is not.

Which also results in Style being much more playful again rather than annoying. For example, when he calls Fadel a "good-looking chef" and shoves him with his his gigantic burger bun. Or when he teases Fadel about being shy. Or when he asks Fadel "You hungry?" after they end up on the ground. This time I actually believe Style's words. Where the flirting at the running track and the teasing at the market felt more like a task where Style was mostly just saying words to get the job done, now that he's back in his comfort zone it sounds like he actually means everything he says again.

There is also some sort of sincerity to Style's desire to help. Fadel, however, does not want Style's help and tries to send him away. Style reminds him that Fadel should probably be making burgers instead of wasting time arguing with him and also points out that Fadel's own brother, who is supposed to be here helping him, is nowhere to be found and that he, Style, is in fact right here by Fadel's side helping him, supporting him. I think Style is being a little overly dramatic when he says "All I ask from you is a little decency" in order to get Fadel to soften up at least a little bit and to get him to accept Style's help, but I also think Style does genuinely desire at least some form of recognition for his support as well. But Fadel won't budge and once again just abandons him.

No. 5: This Is A... kitchen

Trouble arises at the diner and once again we see that Style likes being helpful, because he rushes into the kitchen, immediately ready to help serve the customers. And this time his desire to help is real. It might also stem a little from his desire to fix things, because it is his own fault that the restaurant is overrun and so part of him might want to make up for that, too. What matters, though, is that it's not just another attempt at getting close to Fadel like earlier when he was promoting the restaurant. Fadel blocks him once again, but Style insists. And I think he really hits the nail on the head with this:

I haven't yet looked at Fadel as closely as I have at Style (oh how I wish I had the time, though *cries in university student*) but I do think that this is ultimately something Fadel will be forced to learn over the course of the series.

Anyway, Fadel tries to send Style away again, but Style refuses to go and lists a number of arguments as to why he should in fact go serve tables instead of going home. He ends his arguments by telling Fadel to learn to accept help and then then determinedly tells him that he'll go wait the tables himself. Once those words are out of his mouth he looks at Fadel almost with a bit of a defiant expression on his face as if he's waiting for Fadel to object again.

But this time Fadel says "Fine, you can wait the tables" and Style nods and raises an eyebrow in surprise and happiness, like Wait?? I can?? For real?? You're actually letting me?? I don't have to fight you some more?? You're not throwing me out again??

When Style goes to change into the uniform right there in the kitchen, I don't think he's doing it to be flirty or anything like that at first. I think in the heat of the moment he genuinely forgot that changing rooms (or in this case, bathrooms) exist. I think he wanted to follow Fadel's order as quickly as possible so that he could start helping as quickly as possible. That is, until Fadel tells him off and sends him to the bathroom. Style responds by playfully teasing Fadel about being shy. Style is in an excellent mood now because it's one of those rare occasions where Fadel accepts Style's presence rather than trying to get rid of him. And while I do think Style changes in the kitchen anyway in order to tease Fadel, I don't think he's necessarily doing it to tease Fadel for sexy reasons but rather for playfully petty reasons. Because Fadel keeps scolding him and yelling at him and when Fadel tells him off for changing clothes in the kitchen, Style does it out of spite. Like Oh, you don't want me to change in the kitchen? Well, in this case i DEFINITELY have to change in the kitchen, then. I will say, though, that there is definitely a little bit of an Oh, you're NOT shy? Well, prove it, then! in there as well. But I don't think that this thought is Style's main focus here, because apart from this one look that Style throws Fadel right after he's pulled his shirt over his head...

...from what the camera shows us he seems more focused on the clothes and the action of changing them rather than on Fadel's reaction to him getting naked:

We, the audience, were shown Fadel's reactions to Style getting undressed and I think if Style had taken note of these reactions, the series would have made a point in showing us that Style notices Fadel's crisis. And our chatty cat here would have 100000% teased Fadel about it. What's more, Style has no idea just how much of an effect his naked body had on Fadel back at the sauna. Style has absolutely no idea that Fadel went and fantasized about him afterwards. So Style does not (yet) know that his naked body is one of the strongest weapons he currently has in the fight for Fadel. So Style does not (yet) realize that he could be using his body in a much more deliberate manner. And I don't think he realized it in this scene either, because as I said we would have been shown his discovery. So Style leaves the scene none the wiser, but eager to help and absolutely stoked that Fadel actually lets him for once.

No. 6: Death by Spatula?

Unexpectedly, Fadel drops lore of himself and I think that piques Style's interest because Fadel almost NEVER drops lore of himself. Pretty much all the things Style knows about Fadel are things he got from other people (like all the information in the notebook) or things he found out by himself (either because he's picked up on them in all their interactions so far or because he actively did some research like when he looked up Fadel's name). There are only two other instances where Fadel himself revealed something about himself to Style:

When Style finds him at the gym, Fadel drops that he doesn't like it when it's crowded and that this is why he likes going to the gym at night.

When Fadel tells Style that he runs a burger joint in the "sensitive nipples" scene and also mentions that he does everything by himself. Although this incident barely counts, because Fadel didn't really give this information voluntarily but was instead kind of forced to since Style had found the pin of his restaurant.

Usually, Fadel refuses to reveal anything about himself. But now Fadel is overwhelmed by the many customers and in his stress he lets slip that he doesn't need money and that he only runs the restaurant for fun. When Fadel then also claims not to be rich, Style immediately finds it sus. Lucky for him, though, he won't make the right guess until later in the episode and so he manages to escape being prematurely murdered with a spatula. But Style doesn't know that.

Instead, Style just got a lot more intrigued by Fadel. This is one of those incidents that make Style want to get to know Fadel out of his own curiosity and not because he wants to help his friend and is getting his dream car as a reward. Style is starting to take a genuine interest in Fadel as a person and his positive feelings towards Fadel grow.

No. 7: First Bites

When Fadel wordlessly hands Style the burger it's the first time that Fadel is actively reaching out to him. Reaching out to him in a friendly manner that is, not to ambush him in a dark locker room and start a fight. And Style is absolutely delighted that Fadel is finally taking a step towards him instead of walking away from him like he usually does. And Style being Style, he of course has to immediately make a big deal out of it: "Are you finally folding? Was it because of how hard working I am? You like me now, don’t you?"

Actually, I wanna take a little detour to the language side of things again. The English translation has a question tag only on the last sentence, but in Thai Style actually uses question words that give a sense of "right?" or "isn't that so?" at the end of every single one of these questions.

นี่มึงเปิดใจให้กูแล้วใช่ป่ะ [nêe - mueng - bpèrt - jai - hâi - guu - láew - châi bpà] [interjection] - you - open - heart, mind - to, for - I/me - already - right?

I actually really like the expression he uses in Thai: he says เปิดใจ [bpèrt jai] which consists of the words "(to) open" (เปิด) and "heart, mind" (ใจ). To me, that gives me the feeling of Style not just asking Did I manage to win you over? but more of a feeling of You are finally opening (your heart) up to me, right? You are finally letting me in? which I think is a much nicer image in regard to Fadel's character and Fadel and Style's relationship.

มึงเห็นความขยันความตั้งใจกูแล้วใช่ไหมล่ะ [mueng - hĕn - kwaam kà-yăn - kwaam dtâng jai - guu - láew - châi măi - lâ] you - see - diligence - intention, determination - I/my - already - right? - [particle]

I don't know if others feel the same way, but in the English translation the "hard working" part mostly makes me think of Style working hard with helping at the restaurant before this conversation. A more literal translation of what he says in Thai would be "You've seen my diligence and determination, haven't you?" and I'm sure he's actually more referring to his determination and relentless efforts in getting close to Fadel.

I just really like the way Style phrases all his questions here in Thai. Fadel has enclosed his heart deep within him in very thick and high walls and no one gets access to it. And Style's task isn't that he has to get Fadel to simply just fold to him, surrender to him, but what he actually needs to do is to search for a way to reach Fadel's heart. His options are either to tear down Fadel's walls by sheer force or to somehow get Fadel to trust him so much that Fadel will willingly unlock and open up the doors leading to the depths of his heart. And it's like Style is asking You're finally letting me in, right? You're finally recognizing my diligent efforts to reach you, right? You no longer hate me, right? You like me now, don't you?

And I don't think Style is necessarily flirting here and means to ask if Fadel likes him romantically. On the surface, yes, he is definitely also asking if the flirting (attempts) have worked and if Fadel is starting to fall for him. But I think a lot of this is also about how he has on multiple occasion now tried to form a genuine connection with Fadel. Just in this episode alone we can see it in the way he asks Fadel if he likes heavy metal at the heavy metal bar and then tries to get him to socialize, tries to include him. We can see it the entire time at the restaurant just now where he's voluntarily helping because he genuinely cares. There are even more instances in the first two episodes, which I talk about in my first meta post of this meta series. Style has tried to bond with Fadel multiple times now but Fadel has always blocked his attempts and I think a big part of Style also wants to know if Fadel is finally starting to have at least friendly feelings towards Style. That Style is finally going from being an annoying presence in Fadel's life to being a pleasant presence in his life.

But Fadel shoots him down. "Don't get your hopes up. This is your wage." (Fun fact: in Thai Fadel actually tells Style not to เวอร์ [wer], which is a slang word coming from the English word "over" and, if I remember my Thai friend's explanation from a month ago correctly, is used to indicate that what someone is doing/saying is "too much", so what Fadel says here could be taken as "don't exaggerate" or "don't be so overly dramatic" or "don't be so hyped")

Style immediately complains that the burger is too little of a wage, but also won't let Fadel take it away from him again, insisting on eating it anyway. It might not be much of a wage, but that burger is important to Style. When Fadel sends him home, Style dramatically laments being exploited and thrown away. I think this is yet another one of Style's attempt to get some friendly banter out of Fadel. But Fadel isn't having it. Fadel makes it clear that he wants Style gone asap and Style is annoyed that Fadel keeps making him leave. I think Style is genuinely enjoying hanging out with Fadel at the burger joint and also genuinely wants to stay. His positive feelings continue to develop.

Special shout-out also to the way Style loudly goes "Mmh! Mmmh!!" while chomping down on the burger to make sure Fadel knows exactly how much he's enjoying Fadel's food. Which isn't just food in this instance, no, the burger also stands for an unspoken thank you for helping me and symbolizes the first time Fadel has actively reached out to Style on his own and done a nice thing for him. Style is making sure Fadel won't miss just how much he appreciates this gesture.

No. 8: A Fly on the Wall

Oh, how desperately I wish we knew at which point of the conversation between the brothers Style came in exactly! This is going to drive me insane, because I have no idea just how much of the conversation Style overheard, which unfortunately is important information for the interpretation of his interactions with Fadel from this point on. Most of all I really NEED to know if Style happened to hear this specific line:

Fun fact: in Thai he doesn't actually say "you wanted to rely on" but he says (ที่)มึงจะไปอยู่ด้วย [(thêe) - mueng - jà - bpai - yòo - dûuay] which should translate to something like "(that) you were gonna be with" or "were gonna live with" (disclaimer: I didn't double-check this with a native speaker) which sounds much more like a serious relationship to me rather than when phrased as "dude you wanted to rely on". And we'll get the confirmation of an ex-boyfriend later in the episode.

Now the question is: DOES STYLE KNOW ABOUT THE EX-BOYFRIEND NOW?? DOES HE KNOW FADEL WAS IN LOVE BEFORE?? PLEASEEE I NEED TO KNOW 😭😭😭

In my quest to find an answer to these questions I did come across a strange background noise that comes right after this line, though. A background noise that could very well be interpreted as Style sliding open the door. So for the sake of my own sanity I'll go with Style only having heard this part of the conversation for sure:

F: Why did you bring this up? K: I just want you to tell your brother how pipe dreams always end. In this line of profession, no one waits for you.

This is yet another incident that gets Style genuinely curious about Fadel, about who he is exactly. Style will certainly be wondering about what that profession is from now on. And he will certainly be wondering about what that profession could be after he watches Fadel beat up three grown men like it's nothing. And he won't know that he will have hit jackpot with his guess.

No. 9: Private Show

Where the masturbation scene from episode 2 confirms that Fadel feels genuine physical/sexual attraction to Style, this scene confirms that the feeling is mutual on Style's side of things as well. Style, too, finds Fadel's body hot. What's more, he never stops looking at Fadel. And not just at his body, but throughout his fantasy, Style is always searching for Fadel's eyes. In fact, he rarely takes his own eyes off of Fadel's face, and when Style does direct his eyes somewhere else it's always only for a very short moment. I think this once again shows that Style desires an emotional connection next to a physical one as well. Sex isn't just sex to Style, he wants more with it.

It is said that eyes are the windows to the soul, so another reason for the intense eye contact could be that Style also wants to stare deep into Fadel's soul to get to know him better in a quest to find answers to who this mysterious person really is. Because by now Style is genuinely curious. He has genuinely started to care.

Remember how I mentioned that arguments could be made for Style actually liking being pursued more than doing the pursuing and that I would get into this later? Later is now.

At this point I want to plug @clemelntine's extremely interesting perspective on the two sexual fantasies that we've gotten so far and what that means for the storage room hook-up. I'm not gonna reiterate everything, but I do want to pick up on what she says about Style specifically:

No matter how much he annoys Fadel in the day to day and how much he seems to take the upperhand in those interactions, when it comes to sex he likes in the idea of letting Fadel do what he does/wants.

In Style's own fantasy, Style is sitting back, he's letting Fadel take the reins, do the work. This is also in line with @secriden's excellent meta on Style's true desire being to be pursued, which I also really encourage you to read. Again, I won't repeat the entire post, but she highlights how Style will downright create opportunities for Fadel to lay his hands on him and how "every single time Fadel even shows a HINT of wanting Style, he immediately falls pliant, like he can't wait to let Fadel take the reins" (quoted from @secriden). And we see this desire in the fantasy too. Style imagines Fadel being the active one while Style gets to sit there and enjoy. Our little attention hoe here likes it when people are actively after him.

I was struggling to really make sense of Style this episode. In the first two episodes, whenever Style was being annoying there would be some sort of trigger for it. I was confused especially in the beginning of this episode, because I didn't understand how and why Style would go from trying to genuinely bond with Fadel at the heavy metal bar to being annoying at the running track and at the market when nothing seemed to have triggered it. I could tell Style was being annoying on the sports field and at the market, but I really couldn't figure out the "but why?" of it all. But if we look at his behavior through the lens of "Style actually prefers being pursued over doing the pursuing", I think it makes more sense. Style prefers for others to put in the effort of pursuing and now that he's forced to do the pursuing himself he doesn't really know how to go about it, especially when the person he's trying to woo has walls high up to the sky and continuously shoots him down. Style shows up and drops flirty lines but he doesn't even really mean them because he doesn't actually want to do the pursuing. The inauthenticity in his insistent approach is what makes him annoying in those scenes. And it's also not what works on Fadel – it's when Style is being genuine that he actually reaches Fadel, like when he was helping him wait tables (which Fadel recognizes by rewarding him with a burger) or when Style was being playfully flirty in the sauna (which results in Fadel fantasizing about him at night).

No. 10: Mark Style Down As Scared AND Horny

We will later learn that Style doesn't believe Fadel about needing more money for the restaurant and was just acting stupid to gain Fadel's trust, but when I first sat down to take notes for my meta I wasn't sure if Style was being entirely accurate/truthful when he said this, since he witnessed Fadel taking on three grown men only after that whole conversation about the restaurant. So why would he feel a need to gain Fadel's trust before that? At first I thought that maybe Style did believe Fadel for a moment there, especially also because he presented Fadel with an excuse as to why he was working there right away and then also sounded a bit too sincere when he offered support to Fadel. However, on second thought I'm now thinking that maybe he really does distrust Fadel's claims from the start.

Outside the host club Style approaches Fadel and I don't think it's with the motivation to flirt with him but rather to find out why exactly Fadel would be here stripping for some ladies. It's a bit odd that he immediately offers Fadel an out of "You need the money for your restaurant, right?" when he's trying to get answers, but maybe this clumsy approach at digging for answer is already part of Style playing dumb on purpose to gain Fadel's trust. But why would he need to gain Fadel's trust when he hasn't even seen yet what Fadel is really capable of?

While it is true that up until the "why are you working as a stripper" conversation Style hasn't witnessed the real danger that Fadel poses, there've still been enough incidents to make him suspicious of Fadel. It already starts right during their first meeting when Fadel won't let Style get near his car. That's weird, Style finds it weird. Next thing Style knows is that Fadel also doesn't have any papers for said car which is very odd again. In episode 2 Style gets a little hint of Fadel's dangerous side when Fadel ambushes him in the locker room. In episode 3 he learns that Fadel opened the burger place just for fun rather than to earn money and that apparently Fadel isn't rich and yet somehow still has the resources and the time to run a whole restaurant for fun. Shortly after that he (likely) overhears something about a "profession" which clearly can't refer to the profession of being a burger joint owner. Style has enough reasons to be suspicious of Fadel, even before he witnesses Fadel's badass fighting skills. Style has reasons to gain Fadel's trust and to stay on his good side, especially since Style himself is hiding ulterior motives and can't risk Fadel getting suspicious of his own true intentions. So Style plays dumb, offers Fadel an out, and when Fadel takes that out Style raises his eyebrows and hesitates for a moment like Oh, okay. We're going with the lie, then, before he offers Fadel support.

The conversation gets interrupted by those three men looking for a fight and for the first time Style gets to see just how dangerous Fadel can get when he wants to. This is where Style truly realizes that something really is very, very OFF about Fadel. It's no longer a joke or a gut feeling, no, this is confirmation that something here is incredibly shady. And Style wants to get to the bottom of it.

No. 11: Hit by Apollo's Ball of Prophecy

There've been a few incidents that got Style curious about who Fadel really is behind his thick walls and his tough exterior, a few incidents that got Style curious about Fadel's lore. But watching Fadel take on three grown man without any major problems and having them run away in fear was the last straw. Style's motivations officially change. Getting Kant's car is less important now than finding out the truth about Fadel. Style definitely exaggerates a bit when he says that Fadel must be some kind of hitman, is being dramatic as usual. It won't be much longer until Style finds out that Apollo has actually hit him with the gift of prophecy.

No. 12: Rise Up

Style is determined to find out more about Fadel's life and promptly shows up at yet another location he knows Fadel will be at. I'm not sure Style was aware this meeting was gonna be about grief and loss before he arrived and saw the sign. At least from the notebook it's hard to tell because the drawing only shows a group of people sitting in a circle of chairs with the caption "rise up". That could really be about anything. For me personally, my first association (especially in combination with the words "rise up") would be a Christian bible study group, although I doubt that Style, having been raised in a predominantly Buddhist country, would necessarily have this specific association with that image and those words, too. Point still stands that nothing about this image strictly points to loss specifically. (Technically we could say that since there's no address in the notebook, Style might have googled "rise up" in order to figure out where to go and seen on the website that it was a meeting for grief and loss. However, as we didn't actually get to see Style do any research and find this information, I'm just gonna run on the assumption that he genuinely didn't know and that maybe he got the address via Bison or something. Or maybe he actively stalked and followed Fadel, idk.)

Style stops in front of the sign, double-checks that he's at the right place, and then nods in determination, kinda like alright, let's do this, then, before he enters.

Another reason why I don't think Style was aware what this group meeting was gonna be about before he arrived is the way he's kinda confused when the group leader asks him to tell his story. The group leader elaborates ("Something you’ve lost, or the changing point in your life.") and Style, who was looking at the group leader while listening to his explanation, turns his head to look at Fadel right after the group leader says the word จุดเปลี่ยน [jùt bplìian] (= changing point). He stares at Fadel as if he's wondering Did he lose something? Was there a changing point in his life?

Style can't dwell on it for too long, though, because he has just been asked a question and now needs to come up with a cover story.

And this is where Style really starts to get out of line. He dishes out a story about some dog, which I don't really want to get into right now since at the point of me writing this we're only 4 episodes into the series and who knows, something might as well happen later down the line that could recontextualize Style's story (looking at you, Boonterm mention! 👀), but I think it's safe to say that Style isn't too involved in his story emotionally. When he cries, the crying is cringe and it's NOT because Dunk is a bad actor (far from it!!) but rather it's because Style the character isn't taking himself seriously here. This is also highlighted in the smug look and nod he shoots Fadel in the middle of his crying performance:

His behavior is very disrespectful, but I don't think he's being disrespectful on purpose. I think this is another one of his idiot boy moments where he is just really fucking stupid. Style is impulsive and doesn't think things through a lot and I think in this scene he is also so absorbed in his goal of getting to the bottom of Fadel and his mysteries that his tunnel vision on his goal prevents him from realizing the effect his actions can have on those around him, the consequences his behavior could bring. We saw it before that Style sometimes doesn't see things as much of a big deal as they actually are when he doesn't think much of texting while driving (as elaborated in my ep1 meta). Besides, his behavior has worked out pretty well for him all episode, with the worst consequence being Fadel simply just walking away from him, and Style even got to celebrate small victories like when Fadel made him a burger. So why would Style be changing his behavior now? There is no reason for Style to act differently, and so he continues to bug Fadel as usual and it genuinely doesn't occur to him that his behavior could be disrespectful or out of line.

Maybe if Style had had more time to dwell on the thought of Is Fadel here because he's lost someone? he might have realized that the situation was a lot more serious than he had originally thought and that his words/actions were gonna be out of line and that he shouldn't have been doing this, but alas that is not what happened. He didn't have the time and so he immediately gets distracted fabricating an elaborate story to answer the group leader's question and doesn't spend a single one of his brain cells thinking about his behavior and its consequences. He will soon learn about the consequences, though, because Fadel is seriously pissed now.

No. 13: Giving You What You Want (But Is It?)

Fadel is pissed and goes to confront Style in the privacy of a random storage room. Style is obviously lying to Fadel through his teeth. I do think there's some truth to it when Style says "I have my own problems. You’re not the only one" but whatever problems in life Style currently has (especially if there's anything connected to loss and grief), these problem's really aren't at the forefront of his mind right now. We know for a fact that Style is lying when he explains that he found the support group via the internet, that meeting Fadel was a coincidence and Fadel doesn't buy it either. What we, the audience, also know but what Fadel doesn't necessarily guess is that Style is also lying about how he is hitting on Fadel because he likes him and because he wants him. "Nothing more than that" he says, but as the audience we know that this is also bullshit because we know he was specifically sent by Kant and that a car is waiting for Style when he succeeds. What we also know, though, is that Style is definitely physically/sexually attracted to Fadel, so when Fadel offers to hook up with him, who is Style to say no?

I think this nc scene surprised a lot of us because it didn't go the way most of us were expecting it to go. As has already been pointed out in various posts by various people, Style is surprisingly passive during the entire act (at least, that we get to see). They have next to no eye contact, Style doesn't initiate a single kiss and barely touches Fadel except to hold him and to run his hand through Fadel's hair. But why is that?

Many a thing has already been said about this scene and about the characters' motivations and I don't think there is one specific interpretation that is the One Truth. I think many truths exist in this scene at the same time and there are many factors as to why the characters were acting the way they were acting. Emotions are complicated and sometimes you can have many of them simultaneously.

An interpretation that I haven't seen floating around yet is that part of Style's passiveness could also stem from the fact that he was caught off-guard. I don't think he was expecting Fadel to go Alright fine, have me, then. In fact, I think when Style told Fadel "I like you" and "I want you" those were mainly empty words again. Because this time he didn't seek out one of Fadel's usual places in order to to hit on him, but because he wants to find out the truth about Fadel, wants to figure out the reason why Fadel is so shady. But then he ended up pissing Fadel off who then promptly started a fight with him and Style needed to cover up his own intentions when he threw those words into Fadel's face. Style says "I want you", but he doesn't actually mean it in that moment and his actions do not reflect the I want to bang you sentiment at all either. We've all seen the sauna scene, we know how Style behaves when he actually wants to get into Fadel's towel pants. And this isn't it. So when Fadel suddenly and uncharacteristically does let Style get into his pants gets into Style's pants, I think that throws Style off and he momentarily doesn't know how to respond to the situation.

Plus, as @nnnn99999 writes in her meta, there is also the emotional disconnect. At this point of the story, neither of them is in love with the other just yet. Yes, there is mutual physical attraction and yes, by now Style has taken an interest in Fadel beyond the car, has started to develop positive feelings for Fadel and has at times actively enjoyed interacting with Fadel, but they still have their own motives and intentions and emotionally they simply just aren't quite on the same page yet. Style desires both body and heart, but both of their hearts simply aren't properly in it just yet. I don't think Style minds hooking up, he's definitely consenting to it and also enjoying it, but it's just not quite what Style dreams of, not like this. In a way, yes, it actually is what Style has dreamed of because his fantasies of Fadel doing things to him rather than him doing things to Fadel are now becoming reality, as @clemelntine beautifully explained in her meta, but in the real situation there's one important detail missing from Style's fantasy: the intense eye contact. In addition to Fadel's body, Style also wants that emotional connection. We've seen this times and times again whenever Style has tried to make friends as well as to genuinely bond with Fadel, and this desire extends also to the sex.

And lastly I want to leave you with @braceletofteeth's excellent tags on this post, which is something that I think also factors into why Style goes from being proactive to being passive in the blink of an eye:

#Fadel said he would give himself to Style #and Style let him do that #he barely touched Fadel except to hold him and caress his hair #he reciprocated the kisses but did not initiate them #he didn't try to take any more of Fadel than what Fadel willingly gave him #[head in hands]

During the entire nc part I kind of get the sense like Style is waiting. Waiting to see with a certain curiosity what Fadel will be doing next, what Fadel wants to do next, ready to happily take up whatever Fadel offers. Style is letting Fadel control the situation completely and doesn't push him once.

No. 14: Kiss or Slap?

Once again we see that Style isn't too much of a fan of casual hook-ups. And while I do think part of his motivations for saying the things he says and for trying to stop Fadel from abandoning him again is because making Fadel his boyfriend specifically rather than just hooking up with him is his goal here after all, but I do think that Style isn't lying this time. He's just a bit too annoyed when he asks "What kind of man do you take me for?" for it to be an act. I think he is genuinely offended that Fadel would think of him this way. And I think he's genuinely a little upset and hurt that Fadel is perfectly happy to sleep with him and to ditch him immediately after. We get foreshadowing to Style being very much Team Anti Hit-and-Run in episode 1 when he tells Fadel "It ain’t like me to hit and run" in the context of an actual car crash and earlier this episode when he laments "Oh, the nature of man. He will exploit you and then throw you away". Style is very much not happy with this turn of events and it's not purely because he hasn't yet completed the mission Kant has sent him on. We also get another hint of Style looking for a connection in his hook-ups in the way Style is looking at Fadel when they're getting dressed while in contrast Fadel has turned his back to Style completely, avoiding eye contact and avoiding any interaction:

Another thing that I want to point out is that Fadel says "I gave you what you wanted" and "We agreed on it" when Style tries to stop him from leaving. However, they didn't exactly agree on anything? Fadel started kissing Style before they could even come up with any terms and conditions and the thing is when Style said he wanted Fadel, he never said he wanted Fadel only once. And he also never said he wanted Fadel to run away immediately afterwards.

So Style puts up a fight. He firmly stands between Fadel and the door, blocking Fadel's way. Fadel threatens to punch Style if he doesn't move but Style refuses to stand down even though he knows very well from personally witnessing it that Fadel is perfectly capable of punching him if he wished to. Despite that, Style is not scared of Fadel. I think Style takes Fadel's sudden willingness to sleep with him as a sign that Fadel has finally developed some sort of positive feelings towards Style after all, too. And Style is confident enough about it that he trusts that Fadel wouldn't hurt him. When Style says "You like me" I don't think he necessarily means it in the sense of you're in love with me or you're crushing on me. I think he's calling out Fadel's change of heart (that is negative feelings turning into positive feelings) and is making it very clear just how confident he is about Fadel not hurting him. I'm not scared of you. I've become a positive presence in your life now. You wouldn't dare to injure me. It's a counterattack to Fadel's threat. But Fadel's trauma runs deep. And so he punches Style because giving him a bit of a beating is still better than risking to face the consequences of what might happen if he lets anyone get behind those thick high walls. And he punches Style also a little bit to put him in line for his cockiness.

And also, I may be a Style apologist and a Style enabler, but after that shit Style pulled at the group meeting that punch was totally deserved.

Please don't expect me to write a proper conclusion bc my brain is absolutely fried now bye <3

[moonsun2010]

Man seeing the CEO's reaction to Black Myth not winning GOTY, saying they came to the awards for nothing (they won Player's Choice), that he wrote the acceptance speech 2 years ago, and all that shit about feminists and wanting to assault the female members of the team, make me glad they lost. Despite me playing the game way more than the rest.

Wait what post had the thing about feminists and assaulting female members? If you mean the Weibo post CEO Yocar wrote on 14 Dec 2024, I don't find any mention of the sort there. If you've any citations/links to the Chinese non-translated posts or screenshots that would be good.

If you want to read an actual good translation/paraphrasing of Yocar's post, I recommend this article.

1) "saying they came to the awards for nothing" you mean "今年入围的游戏都很出色，可我真没搞明白这次年度游戏的评选标准是啥，我特么白来了！" which basically states that "the shortlisted works are all outstanding, but I really don't understand what's the selection standards". The last part is like similar to "goddamn waste of my time" but not exactly, like waste of his attendance?? Like "The competition was strong but I didn't understand the rules, so why the heck did I attend for no reason! (exasperated tone towards ownself)".

Additionally, is writing an acceptance speech 2 years ago something negative...? Are creators not allowed to be proud of their work? This is the portion of Yocar's post that the "acceptance speech 2 years ago" came from:

"从昨天到现在，我也从很多玩家的言论中看到了强烈的不满情绪，看到了不甘与不爽——大多用了幽默与解构的方式表达，笑死。

我完全能理解这些不甘，同感这些不爽，因为我知道这些情绪的背后，不是痛苦与恶意，而是自尊与自信。

如此自信却没得到他人的认可，有点脾气，很正常。

我其实……比你们更自信（参考我在知乎的第一个回答），年度游戏登台的演讲词两年前就写好了，居然没用上😭😭😭" meaning:

"From yesterday till today, I've seen a lot of severly dissatisfied reactions from my conversations with (Black Myth Wukong) players, discontent and irritated—most of who expressed themselves in humourous and yet structured ways, which I found hilarious.

I understand entirely the feelings of those who are dissatisfied and frustrated, because I know that these feelings are backed not by harmful or evil intent, but a sense of self-confidence and self-esteem.

If one were to have pride in themselves, only to fail to gain the same recognition from others, it's quite normal to feel slighted.

Actually I'm... even more confident than y'all (see my first answer on 知乎*), so much so that I wrote my Game of the Year acceptance speech 2 years ago, which I ended up not using 😭😭😭"

*知乎 is another forume-sque platform that's kinda like Quora for asking and answering questions.

It's at worst a display of arrogance that in fact, seems to be used in a self-denigrating manner in the post. I don't have the exact same emoji, but surely one doesn't need to speak Chinese to understand what its use there means right? All I see is a pretty normal statement from a game dev empathising with the fanbase's disappointment over not getting GOTY, and soothing those pains by being self-deprecating about this own confidence in his creation.

In fact the rest of that 2nd paragraph (post is split into 7 paragraphs) makes the fact that he's focusing on the fact that he just has pride in his game even clearer:

"在这款游戏的研发过程中，很多同事没有我这么乐观。他们可能因为玩过了太多的中间版本，难免觉得这个游戏还有太多的瑕疵，也不大可能按时上线。

我在公司的一个主要工作，就是不断安慰他们我们已经做得很好了，产品一直在进步。

是的，你不能只在已经赢的时候才自信。

那不是自信，是对结果的复读。

今天输了，明天还可能会输，可那又如何？

影响结果的因子太复杂，所以结果必然是不确定的。我们唯一能确定的是选择自己在做什么——

做具体的事，做困难的事，做相信的事。

在做这些，当然应该自信。" meaning:

"In the process of developing this game, many colleagues weren't as optimistic as me. Maybe they'd replayed the WIPs too many times, such that they'd inevitably think it had too many flaws and wouldn't be finished in time.

In this company I have a very important role: to continuously reassure staff that we've already done a very good job, and that the game is continuously improving.

Indeed, you cannot have self-confidence in yourself only when you win.

That is not confidence, but preparation for/repetition of the end.

You lose today, and you can lose again tomorrow—and so what?

The end is never certain, as after all, the factors involved in determining are too complicated. The only thing we can be certain of is our own actions—to do things with purpose, difficult things, things we believe in/confident actions.

To do these, of course we must believe in ourselves."

The other paragraphs continue in the same encouraging spirit—generalised summary:

3 talks about how Game Science persevered in developing BMW because they trust in their game to deliver a quality story rooted in Chinese culture

4 talks about how Yocar thinks a common proverb few know is from Journey to the West "世上无难事，只怕有心人。/Nothing is impossible to a willing heart" does not mean that overcoming difficulties is simply a matter of mental fortitude, but that he thinks "因为难，才好玩" aka its fun because its difficult but also alluding to a common sentiment in fanbases that form around a love for difficult games... like BMW (and yknow the whole genre of Souls-like and Bullet hells and games that you love because they are so painful).

5 talks about the origin of Game Science's name, 6 about how they're fortunate to even be able to work on games, 7 a lovely, lovely conclusion that I think deserves to be translated in full:

"最后，希望黑神话的这个故事，能够给到某些还在迷茫中的人一点勇气，让更多在还在黑暗中摸索的人看到了一点光亮，然后以平常心继续前行。

希望大家都能继续怀着自信与雄心，保持勇敢、诚实与善良，踏实做好每一件具体的小事，坦然接受不确定的结果，一直走在取经的路上，直到生命的最后一刻。

就像海明威说的那样：这个世界很美好，值得为之战斗。" meaning:

"In conclusion, I hope that the story of BMW (both the game and the story of the game's development?) can give those who are still lost some courage, give more of those still searching in the darkness some light, and progress with a peace of mind.

I hope everyone will continue to embrace confidence and ambition, to be brave, sincere and kind, to properly do everything with purpose, until life reaches its final end.

Just like what Hemingway said: "The world is a fine place and worth fighting for."

It's honestly a very earnest and sweet post?? If you can read Mandarin Chinese its way more poetic and kind of tear-inducing—even more so if you're a creative of any kind, or just someone who's ever put high expectations on themselves to produce good results, only to seemingly ""fail"" by not achieving the unrealistically fantastical ideal you've built in your head.

Anon, I'm glad that you've played the game, but I don't think your interpretation of Yocar's post is fair at all. Creators are allowed to have high expectations about their own work, and to be disappointed when they aren't met. The post he's made is just that—a joking expression of disappointment, yet determination to carry on producing more games he can be proud of, and will bring happiness to others. Nowhere in this is the unhinged bashing of TGA that Yocar is supposedly to have done. If this sort of encouraging statement is considered inflammatory, I... genuinely don't know what to say.

[kyouka-supremacy]

Mmmhhh

[seventh-district]

7am, eating cold leftover teriyaki stir-fry for breakfast and crying over blorbos

[meownotgood]

I'm almost done!!! prince aki will return!!! just need to do a bit more editing on the final part and then proofread, I'll work very hard to get this chapter posted sometime tomorrow 🫡

[kuwupikaa]

THE END OF THE HAPPY YEARS EXCUSE ME??? SORRY???

[giannaln4]

I'm Sorry

lando norris x fem reader

summary: A moment of frustration made Lando react the way you never thought he would, and boy, would he regret it.  (1.6k words)

warnings: angst, swearing, argument, mean lando,  fluffy ending

a/n: ok so for this, i decided to go back to Baku and put the quali result in a totally different perspective than my last fic. i guess i kinda like it but i'm not very good at describing arguments 😭 anyway pls let me know what you think!!

ALSO i have an announcement to make and i'm really excited for it :)

check out the original request here!

↺ back to navigation — send me a request!

The qualifying this weekend was an absolute mess, to say the least. Lando was hard on himself no matter the result he got. Even if it was good, he would always find something to criticise himself, but P17? Everyone was in for a treat, you thought.

The worst part is that it wasn’t even his fault; it was a stupid mistake by the marshals, and he was not to blame for it. A yellow flag interrupted his lap, and he was immediately kicked out in Q1. 

Seeing the first qualifying session being over with his name in red was not something anyone wanted to see, especially not him, and now that every point was essential, you knew it crushed him.

He came back to the garage to see the rest of the qualifying with his team, and as soon as he got out of the car, you saw how frustrated he was. You understood him, of course, it sucked that this is how the weekend was going, but you would be there for him no matter what.

Once Lando took off his helmet, he headed straight to his driver’s room, and he didn’t even look at you when he walked past. That meant he wanted to be alone, but oh silly you, you decided to follow him.

He let out a loud sight when he heard the door open and close behind him, not really in the mood to hear what you had to say. He knew for a fact you were going to tell him he did well and it wasn’t his fault, which he greatly appreciated, but right now, he just wanted to suffer in peace.

“Baby?” You called him out, just testing the waters, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he hummed in annoyance. “I know you don’t want to hear this right now, but-”

“You are right, I don’t want to hear it,” he interrupted you, not even turning around to face you. He placed his hands on the desk and leaned into it, taking a deep breath. 

That should have been your cue to leave the small room and leave him alone, but for some reason you didn’t. “Lando, don't beat yourself up over this. It wasn’t your fault, and I’m sure things will be better tomorrow. We all know what you can do and you still have the race-“

“This is MY job, Y/N. I probably know better than you do,” he snapped, raising his voice and finally turning around. “This is what I’m fighting for, we all are. Do you know what’s at stake here? I finally have the chance to compete for a championship, and I just blew it.”

To say you were astonished was an understatement; this was the first time he ever snapped at you that way and you didn’t know how to react. “I’m sorry, I just-”

“Every point counts, and not even starting in the top 10 tomorrow- fuck, not even top 15, there is not much I can do.” Now, he looked more mad at you than frustrated at himself, and that crushed you. “I came here to be alone for a bit, I was hoping you would at least respect that." You stayed silent, knowing a single sound would make you cry, and you didn’t want to piss him off more than he already was. “I know you are trying to help, but you are not, you can’t.”

You just stared at him, tears threatening to leave your eyes; he had never raised his voice at you in a heated moment, and it hurt like hell. You definitely should have stayed outside. 

He walked towards the door and stepped out of the room without uttering another word, leaving you alone to deal with your own feelings. 

As soon as the door was closed, you started crying. It was your own fault, really; you could always read him like a book, even today, and you knew better than to disturb him when you weren’t supposed to, but today for some reason you just couldn't keep your mouth shut. Idiot.

You tried to calm yourself down; the last thing Lando needed was to see you cry on top of his result, but it was harder than you expected. This being the first time an argument got so out of hand made you feel absolutely terrible, especially because it was your fault. Deep down, you knew he didn’t mean it, you knew it was his feelings talking, but that didn’t make it any less painful.

A few minutes went by and you could still hear the cars out on track, the mumbling of the team, and people constantly working out there, so you tried to use that as a distraction. Anything to take your mind off what just happened. 

Unfortunately, it didn’t help, but at least you ran out of tears, and now you were just staring at a blank wall, thinking how you could begin to apologise for earlier, if he would even give you the chance to. 

Truth is, you weren’t sure if bringing it up again would be a good idea; you wanted to apologise for disrupting his cooldown moment, but what if hearing that made him mad again? Or worse, what if you didn’t apologise and made the situation even bigger? Your spiralling made you lose track of time, and a knock on the door pulled you out of your thoughts. 

“The car is about to leave, Y/N, they are waiting for you,” you heard someone say on the other side of the door. You were at least hoping Lando would come and get you once it was time to go back to the hotel, but he didn’t.

“Thanks, I will be there in a minute,” you replied, grabbing your things and Lando’s before sprinting outside. 

The car ride was hell. Lando didn’t look at you the entire time; he was just staring at his phone, texting who knows who, his face as neutral as ever. It felt longer than it actually was, and when you finally got there, he just stepped out of the car and didn’t look back. You let out a sigh and followed him, leaving a prudent distance between the two of you. 

Once you were in the hotel room, you both started to get ready for bed, like you usually did, except this time, you didn’t acknowledge each other. 

That was until you were already on your side of the bed and he came out of the bathroom, taking the spot next to you and burying his face on his phone again. The entire time you were building up the courage to say something, anything, now that you decided that apologising was the right thing to do.

“Lando?” You called for him, but again, he just hummed in response. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You were right, I shouldn’t have said anything, and I should have respected that you just wanted to be alone.”

That’s when it hit him. How could he get so mad at you for trying to make him feel better? 

He dropped his phone and turned to face you, and noticing your sad expression and teary eyes broke him. His eyes softened as guilt washed over him. Why were you apologising when he was the one who reacted like that? But as soon as you looked down at your hands to avoid eye contact and tears started falling down your face again, he felt even worse. 

“Y/N… Baby, I’m so sorry.” He got closer to you, softly taking your cheeks in his hands to get you to look at him. “Please don’t cry, I’m sorry I acted like a dick and raised my voice at you,” he stared, wiping your tears away, carefully thinking about what else he could say. 

You, on the other hand, didn’t know how to react. Your plan was to apologise and hopefully move on, but now that he was apologising, you didn’t know what to say; you didn’t want him to feel guilty, even though it was his fault you were in that position right now. If only he took a different approach. 

“It wasn’t your fault, okay? You were just trying to help, and I should have appreciated that, you know that I do, I just... I don’t know, there is no excuse for what I did.” But you were still silent and trying to avoid eye contact. “Baby, say something.” 

“Lando, you yelled at me.” You finally replied, your voice a bit muffled by your tears.

“I know, I shouldn’t have done that, and I promise I’ll never do it again.”

After a minute of silence, you just nodded, which made him let out a sigh of relief. “Okay.”

“Okay? I’m sorry, my love.” He pulled you into a hug, your head on his chest as he placed a soft kiss on your head. “I know I was a dick, and I really wish I was nicer about it.”

“It’s okay, I get it; you were frustrated with your result, and I should’ve known better than to interfere with what you were feeling.”

“No, it’s not okay. I was frustrated, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.” Lando was rubbing your back softly, trying to bring you the comfort you tried to give him earlier. “I love you, and I can’t describe how much I appreciate everything you do for me; I know having to deal with my shit is not easy, so thank you.”

“It’s fine, I mean it.” You looked up at him, locking eyes finally in the entire day. “Just... don’t push me away, okay? And if you do need to be alone, just say it, and I promise I will listen next time.”

“Okay, sounds good.”

He gently placed a hand on your check, rubbing small circles before leaning in for a kiss, one both of you much needed. And with one final ‘I love you’, you feel asleep in his arms.

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

Hi sweet angel, I have to admit that I'm new to your profile, but my obsession with your writing is almost as great as my obsession with snow, I have a request that changes the story a little bit.

Coryo is completely obsessed with the reader, but she thinks he is just an affectionate friend, both become mentors and instead of snow falling in love with lucy, it is the reader who falls in love with her tribute, and begins to move away from Snow, he can not accept this and manipulates the games, Not for lucy to win, but rather, to get rid of the reader's tribute. (Sorry for any mistake, English is not my mother tongue, so I use Google translator)

Slipping Through My Fingers || Young!Coriolanus Snow x reader

GIF by i forgot sorry :( divided by @firefly-graphics

A/n: this took me forever to finish idk why 😭 also this has to be the longest fic i've written so far.

Warnings: mention of blood, possessive coryo, mentions of death

Wc: 2,975

Coriolanus Snow Masterlist

"Can I see you tomorrow morning?" Coriolanus looks down at you with hope in his eyes, you open your mouth but close it before sighing. "I can't, sorry. My parents want me to be home when my grandparents are there," You lie through your teeth as he hums, nodding.

"That's fine, tomorrow afternoon then?" His hand touches your waist as you smile up at the boy. "Of course Coryo, I'll see you then?" You touch his hand that was at your waist as he nods. You give him one final smile before disappearing around the corner.

You felt bad for lying to him but you didn't know how he would take it if he found out that you were actually going to meet your tribute first thing when his train from the districts arrived in Panem. Your tribute, Dean, from district 8 intrigued you. You couldn't keep your eyes of the screen when he appeared. He caught your eye immediately.

Coryo couldn’t stop complaining all day about his tribute from district 12, Lucy Gray. Saying that she would not last a second in the game. Unlike him, you had faith in your tribute.

So here you were, standing on the platform waiting for the train to come to a halt as you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. A smile on your face, dimples on display as the doors open revealing Dean. He was taller than you imagined, but nonetheless, he looked surreal. There was no denying that Dean was good looking, incredibly good looking which you would imagine would play a role in the amount of donations he would have.

"Dean. Y/n Y/l/n. I'll be your mentor." You extend your hand out in front of him as he looks you up and down before shaking your hand. His shake was firm, his fingers calloused. An indication that he was a hard worker.

"Are you supposed to be here? I don't see other people like you around here," He says as he looks around the train station. You notice Coriolanus' tribute, Lucy Gray walking by and staring at the two of you questioningly. You make eye contact with her before clearing your throat and looking back at Dean who hadn't kept his eyes off of you.

"No. I'm not supposed to be here." You confess, your hands fidgeting with the ends of your skirt as Dean raises an eyebrow at you. "Then.... what are you doing here?" You pause. What were you doing here? You could have waited like the others for tomorrow to meet him.

"I uh- I wanted to welcome you to the Capitol." You offer him a smile. Silence. "Can I be blunt with you Dean?" Your head slightly tilts, a habit of yours when you ask questions. "Sure," He shrugs. "I see potential in you," You hold his hands in between yours as he glances down at your intertwined hands with an expression you couldn't quite figure out.

"You can win this hunger games. And I will do everything in my power to make sure that you do. Such potential like you for a bright future shouldn't be wasted," You solemnly smile at him. Dean stays quiet for awhile, his hand still in yours before a peacekeeper roughly pulls him away from you.

"Hey!" You shout as you follow the two. "It's time for them to go Miss." The peacekeeper says as he throws Dean into the back of a van. Just as he walks away from your view to close the door, you jump into the van along with the rest of the tributes. "What are you doing!" Dean whispers yells at you as you stay hidden behind him.

You let out a sigh of relief once the doors close. "What's this? Is this your mentor, Dean?" A girl you recognised to be Carol asks with a sinister smile. You push past Dean and extend your hand out for her to shake. She looks at your face then your hand and lets out a laugh.

"Why would I shake hands with someone like you." She spat as a few others laugh alongside her. You notice Lucy Gray once more, sitting there silently. "Why do you get special treatment Dean, huh?" Carol pushes you backwards catching you off balance as Dean catches you.

"I could kill her right now," Carol chuckles like a maniac. Dean moves you behind him, "Leave her alone," He voices out, his tone screaming authority. Before Carol could respond, the van shook violently as you all lose your balance. You let out a groan as you felt your body slam against the van door before it flies open, causing you all to roll out onto hard rocks.

You let out a groan as you slowly lift up your head, squinting your eyes at your surrounding before you hear Dean's voice. "Y/n! Are you alright?" He asks worriedly as his grips your bicep, aiding you to stand up as you realise where you were. You were at the zoo cage.

You place a hand on your head as you let out a low groan. "Excuse me! Hello! Over there! Can they not hear me in there?" You hear a familiar voice belonging to Lucretius Flickerman. Dean takes a hold of your forearm, helping you keep balance as he whispers to you, "Own it." You look up at him with a small smile. He offers his arm to you as you link arms and walk towards the iron bars.

"Y/n Y/l/n, one of the mentors for the 10th hunger games." Lucretius says to the camera as he then directs his gaze towards you. "The game makers did tell you to jump into the cage with them," His tone was skeptical. Dean looks down at you as you glance at him before looking at Lucky.

"They didn't tell me not to. They just said it was a mentor's job to introduce our tributes to the citizens of Panem, and I thought well if Dean is brave enough to be here, then why shouldn't I be too?" You say with confidence, "For the record, I didn't have a choice," Dean butts in.

"What is Y/n doing there?" Arachne gasps as she ctaches the attention of Snow and the others as they look to the screen. There you were, linked arms with a tribute, looking awfully comfortable with him to add. Snow furrows his eyebrows at disbelief that you were there.

You told him that you were to be at home, but clearly not. Coriolanus watches with intent as you look at Dean when he spoke. His fists bawl up as Clemensia makes a comment. "You alright Coryo? You look.... bothered," Her hands rest on Snow's upper arm as he pries her touch off of him.

"I'm fine," He snaps as he leans forward on his seat. He was bothered. Very bothered seeing you so close with a tribute. "He's obviously not fine, he's bothered seeing Y/n so touchy with her tribute, isn't that right Snow?" Arachne teases as he slams his hand on the table causing her to shut up. "Shut it, Crane." Coriolanus says through gritted teeth as Arachne puts her hands up in surrender.

"They look really close. Can't blame Y/n honestly, she got a good looking one," He hears Clemensia quietly say before he had enough and stood up, storming off.

~

"Coryo," You call out as you catch up to him, adjusting your bag on your shoulder as you offer him a smile. He says nothing, his face stern as he continues to walk, not bothering to look at you. "Hey listen, I'm sorry I stood you yesterday, I just got super busy-" "Yeah I saw, busy with your tribute right?" He gives you a sarcastic smile as you scrunch your eyebrows.

You were all making your way to the enclosed cage to talk to your tributes. "What?" Snow rolls his eyes at you, finally stopping. "I saw your interview with Flickerman. Looked awfully close to your tribute," You let out small chuckle as his face shows no sign of amusement.

"Coryo, I was just introducing myself to him and getting to know him that's all. I have faith in him that he will win and I wanted him to know that. Wouldn't you do the same with your tribute if you had faith in her?" You touch his arm as he looks at your hand.

"Right?" You try and get a response from him as he sighs, "I guess," Is all he says before intertwining his hands with yours. You look down at your hands, a sweet gesture from him. When you both get closer to the tributes, you unclasp your hands with Snow and walk towards Dean who has already seen you and was making his way closer to you.

"Hey," You greet Dean as you look through your bag and find the half of your sandwich and cookie which you put away for him. You hand it to him as he thanks you, immediately taking bites as you watch him. He could feel your stares as you look away. Your eyes land on Coriolanus and Lucy.

He was talking to her about something as Lucy looks towards you and Dean. Snow finally looks at you, his expression cold as you gulp and look at Dean who was already looking at you. "He your boyfriend or something?" He asks as he takes another bite of the cookie. Your eyes widen. "Who? Coryo? No." You laugh as Dean stares at you.

"He's just a close friend of mine." You say as he nods, unbothered. "Do you? Do you- uh- have a-" "No." He deadpans as you slowly nod. From afar, Snow was watching the two of you interact the entire time. "Do you want to win Lucy Gray?" He turns his attention from you to his tribute.

"Do you think I can win?" She asks him as he thinks. "Honestly? no." He admits as Lucy scoffs. "But if you listen to what I say and do what I tell you to do, you will." His tone was stern as Lucy nods, her eyes following his eyeline which led to you and Dean. "That your girlfriend? That girl who was with us yesterday in the van."

"Her and Dean seem to be close, don't you think?" Lucy watches Coriolanus' face, his jaw clenching at the mention of the two. "They're not close, she just knows how to play the game," Coriolanus snaps before standing up and backing away from Lucy Gray.

~

You hadn't spoken much to Coriolanus the past couple of days. You were with Dean quite a lot, making up strategies and scenarios for when the games started. "I care about you, Dean. A lot." You take his hands in yours, the sound of his iron shackles making you cringe as you look him the eyes. Dean looks around the room before caressing your hand.

You and Dean have gotten very close over the past days. You both had faith in each other, trusted one another. Coriolanus narrows his eyes at the two of you, 2 desks away from him before his gaze settles on your touching hands.

He lets out a quiet scoff as Lucy Gray looks over to you and Dean. "Do you know him?" Snow asks her as he cocks his head towards Dean. Lucy shakes her head. "You want to win, don't you?" He leans in close to her.

Lucy hesitantly nods her head, "Yes. Yes you do Lucy." He answered for her, his gaze hard on her as she squirmed under his stare. "You need to kill Dean first. You need to before he kills you. He's a strong competitor, I can tell, that's why you need him out first. Then, it will be a piece of cake." He smirks as he leans back on his chair. "What do I need to do?"

~

“Y/n,” Coriolanus calls out as you turn your head to his direction, a small smile on his face as you beam at him. You run to him, throwing your arms around him as you hug him tightly. Coryo was caught off guard but eventually hugs you back.

“Good luck,” You say, although it was slightly muffled against his shirt. “You too,” He says back, his hand rubbing your back as you pull back, giving him your pearly white grin that only a few were able to see. Coriolanus felt a pull at his heart for he knew what was going to happen would break you.

Your other classmates arrive as you get settled for the 10th hunger games to start. Your eyes were trained on the screen as you watch Dean kill 2 people. You bite your fingernails as you continue to watch it play out infront of your eyes. Coriolanus offers his hand as you take it, squeezing it as you watch Dean.

A couple hours pass by and everyone sits up when they watch Coryo's tribute, Lucy Gray being corned by a few of the others, Dean included. In the corner of your eye, you watch Coryo come up to his screen and rapidly click.

Your eyes flicker back to the screen as drones of water come flying at the tributes, knocking them out as the room erupts in gasps. "These drones are not very good," Flickerman comments. "Hey! What are you doing?" Vipsania shouts as she stands up.

"You can't attack the tributes Coryo!" You snap at him. "I'm just sending water," He coolly says as you shake your head and scoff. Dean managed to dodge them luckily. You watch as Lucy Gray runs, Dean chasing after her as your leg bounces.

She manages to hide in one of the vent holes as you notice Snow let out a sigh of relief. Dean punches the vent in anger as he eventually leaves her. A few more hours pass by as you fell asleep, the sound of banging wakes you up. Coryo was nowhere to be found.

Your eyes focus on the screen as Dean and Coral stand underneath a vent pipe. Coral's pitchfork was reportingly stabbing at the vents above. Dean follows the noises, his gaze on the vent. "Coral. Coral she's right here," He whispers to her as she continues stabbing at the vent. Coriolanus then runs in, "Lucy Gray, is she okay?" He says out of breath.

"She wont be for long," Festus comments as everyone's eyes are trained on the screen. All of a sudden, Dean touches his nose as he looks confused. You immediately stand up on your feet, "Wait, what's wrong with Dean?" You move closer as he falls on his knee making your heart race.

"Did Coral do something to Dean?" You panic as Dean starts spazzing out on the floor. Coryo glances at you. Lucy Gray did what he told her to do. He had snuck her rat poison to use, if a small amount was to be inhaled, it would be deadly.

You cover your mouth as your eyes widen. Dean was laying on the ground, not moving at all. You flinch at the sound of a buzzer going off, indicating that he was in fact dead. Dean was dead. And you didn't even know how it happened. You storm out but before you could, Coryo grips your arm, "I'm sorry," He says as you furrow your eyebrows at what he meant before snatching your arm from his grip. "Dean is down. Good afternoon Miss Y/l/n," Flickerman calls out.

You storm out with rage. Dean was supposed to win. He was supposed to make it out alive. You even promised him he would come out alive and go back to his family. One moment he was perfectly fine, and then the next, he's on the floor spazzing out and then dead. Your mind drifts back to Coriolanus' words, I'm sorry. What did that even mean? You assumed he was just apologising that your tribute was dead.

~

Lucy Gray had managed to win. You were happy for Coryo of course. But Dean’s recent death still plagued your mind. “Y/n,” Coryo breathed out the moment you opened your door to him; he reached out for you, pulling you against his chest.

It caught you by slight surprise before you hugged him back. The pent up emotions finally releasing the moment he rubs your back affectionately. “Shh” He softly shushed you as waterfalls fall down your cheeks. Everything was chasing up to you.

“I-I don’t even know what happened to him,” You sob in his embrace as he traces shapes on your arm. You continued to rant to him as he brought you to your living room.

You rested your head against his chest as he listened, sometimes he would bite his tongue at the things you were saying about Dean. "He was just a tribute y/n-" "He was not just a tribute." You snapped, lifting your head up as you stared at his blue irises.

Coriolanus rolls his eyes the minute you turn your head back around. "He's human, just like you and I. He had dreams, he had a family to go back to Coryo, do not just sit there and tell me he was just a tribute. He's more than a tribute," Coriolanus listened to every single word that came out of your mouth.

He did not agree with most of the things you said but for the sake of it, he said nothing. When you spoke about Dean, it grew on Coriolanus that you infact liked him, alot. Perhaps even more than like. And that was why he felt the need to kill him. You were his, only his. And after all, he couldn't have some lowly district boy taking over your body and soul.

[maxtermind]

please i'm begging you (please don't feel pressured if your life is busy 💕) we need pt 2 to the angst i can't handle this 😭 my heart 💔 the writing is too good that i'm feeling things 😓

was i stupid to love you?

★ : summary :: when he downplays your feelings ★ : feat :: max verstappen, lewis hamilton, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris ★ : genre :: angst; hurt/comfort ★ : word count :: 4.6k ★ : a/n :: open ending, don't forget to vote after so i can get a bit of feedback :3 kinda rushed so might contain lots of typos sorryyyy!!

( part 1 )

Charles Leclerc

The house party buzzed with music and laughter, a cacophony that drowned your thoughts as you stormed through the crowded rooms. Your heart raced with a mix of anger and hurt, knowing Charles was right on your tail, determined to catch you before you could reach Arthur.

Your boyfriend’s hand wrapped around yours just as his brother turned around to look at you guys. You stomped your feet as you shook your head to dismiss Arthur and follow your boyfriend who quietly kissed your head in gratitude before you could step away.

”What is going on with you?!” Your voice trembled with barely contained fury as you confronted Charles in a quieter corner.

Charles sighed, his brow furrowing in frustration. ”I don’t know, baby. I’m so sorry—”

”You told me off when you should know that I’m right!” Your voice rose involuntarily. ”She fucking leaned in thinking that you were gonna choose her.”

”Y/N, please listen to me,” Charles said earnestly, stepping closer to you. ”I messed up. I know. But I would, never in a hundred years, choose anyone let alone her over you.”

You looked into Charles' eyes, seeing the sincerity and pain reflected in them. Your anger began to melt, replaced by a swirl of conflicting emotions.

”You’re just saying what I want to hear and I don't like it,” you said, your voice softer now, searching for clarity.

”It’s the truth,” Charles declared, his voice tinged with regret. ”I know I’ve hurt you baby and I'm sorry for that but I can’t— I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I watched you leave with my brother. Let me drop you home, okay?”

Tears welled up in your eyes, frustration and hurt mixing with the love you still felt for him. Charles gently took your hands in his, his touch warm and comforting.

”Y/N, please,” Charles pleaded, his voice raw with emotion. ”I never want to make you feel like you need to run away from me. I want to talk this out, please give me a chance to make things right.”

You hesitated, feeling torn between wanting to forgive him and the pain of betrayal still fresh in your heart.

”Okay,” you finally whispered, feeling emotionally drained. ”Let's go.”

Charles nodded, relief washing over his face. He led you out of the noisy party, his grip on your hand tight and reassuring. The cool night air outside provided a stark contrast to the heated emotions inside.

As Charles drove you home, neither of you spoke. The silence was filled with unspoken words and the weight of what had just transpired. But Charles kept stealing glances at you, his eyes full of regret and love.

When you arrived at your shared apartment, Charles parked the car but made no move to get out. He turned to you, his expression soft and vulnerable.

”I'll leave if you want me to,” Charles said quietly, his voice tinged with sorrow. ”But please, Y/N, give us a chance to talk tomorrow. I'll do whatever it takes to make this right.”

You looked at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes and the love that still lingered despite everything. Tears fell down your cheeks as you nodded slowly.

”I need time,” you admitted softly, your voice barely audible. ”Time to sort through this.”

Charles nodded understandingly, reaching out to gently wipe away your tears. ”Take all the time you need,” he said softly, his thumb caressing your cheek. ”I'll be here, whenever you're ready.”

”Where will you go?” You asked, not wanting to leave just yet.

”To your brother’s house,” he joked and smiled cheekily when you let out a small laugh.

”I love you,” Charles continued and seemed satisfied when you saw your tinted cheeks, giving into the temptation to kiss your hand. ”I’ll stay at Arthur's for the night.”

With that, you stepped out of the car, your heart heavy with conflicting emotions. You watched Charles drive away, feeling the distance between you both but knowing that perhaps, with time, you could find a way back to each other.

Lando Norris

You sat in the break room at work, your lunch untouched in front of you. The memories of last night’s events still stung, the image of her hand on Lando’s thigh and the lipstick on his collar replaying in your mind.

Just as you were about to take a sip of water, the door swung open, and there he was, your— ex? —boyfriend, looking desperate and determined. You knew there was a possibility he’d try to catch you at work given that you’d taken away all other means.

”Y/N, can I please?” he said, his voice pleading as he pointed towards the hallway.

You nodded reluctantly and led him to an empty hall, away from prying eyes. The silence was deafening as you stood there, waiting for him to speak.

You nodded reluctantly and led him to an empty conference room, away from prying eyes. The silence was deafening as you stood there, waiting for him to speak.

”Y/N, please,” he started, his voice trembling slightly. ”I’m so sorry about last night.”

You crossed your arms, leaning against the table. ”Bet you had a good time, huh?”

”No, I didn't,” Lando said in disbelief before he took a deep breath, trying to keep his composure. ”Nothing that happened there was intentional. We were all drinking, and she... she got too close. I should have pushed her away. I’m sorry.”

You scoffed, anger bubbling up again, finally fired up enough to speak your mind. ”Her hand was on your fucking thigh, Lando. And your collar— her lipstick was all over it. How do you explain that?”

He winced, clearly pained by the memory. ”I know it looks bad, but it wasn’t what it seemed. She leaned in close to talk to me, and I didn’t realize she had left a mark. It was a— just a stupid mistake, and I should have been more aware.”

”More aware?” you echoed, your voice rising. ”You should have cared about how it would make me feel! Instead, you shrugged it off like it was nothing.”

”I didn’t mean to shrug it off,” he said, stepping closer. ”I was wrong. I should have reassured you, should have shown you that you’re the only one that matters to me. Baby, please just let me—”

You looked away, the pain still fresh. ”It’s not just about the lipstick or her hand. It’s about how you made me feel like I was overreacting, like my feelings didn’t matter.”

”They do matter,” he said, his voice breaking. ”More than anything. I was an idiot. I should have pushed her away immediately. I should have come to you and told you everything before you saw it for yourself.”

”You know I only want you,” he added softly, his eyes pleading with you.

You shook your head, trying to hold back tears. ”That’s the thing, Lando. I don’t know that. I actually believe that y— you don’t at all.”

Lando’s eyes filled with tears as a broken whisper of your name left his mouth. ”I h.. have never, I never will. Ever.” He stressed. ”Want anyone— need anyone the way I want you.”

You kept quiet as you looked at him trying to catch himself. Lending him your hand that he squeezed in return.

”I can’t believe you would ever believe that but I understand and, I promise… I’ll be more mindful, more respectful. I’ll make sure everyone knows I’m taken, that I’m yours. Please, give me a chance to make it right.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, and you let out a slow breath, trying to not have a breakdown at your workplace. ”It’s going to take time, Lando. Trust isn’t rebuilt overnight.”

”I know,” he said, relief washing over his features. ”And I’m willing to do whatever it takes. I’ll prove to you that I’m worthy of your trust.”

”Okay,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. ”I’ll give it a thought, Lando. But if you hurt me again, we’re done.”

”I understand,” he said, his voice filled with determination. ”Thank you, Y/N. I won’t let you down.”

Max Verstappen

The streets were bustling with late-night revelers, their laughter and chatter a stark contrast to the storm brewing inside you. The restaurant's neon sign flickered as you stepped out into the cool night air, your phone clenched tightly in your hand.

Three hours. You had waited for three hours, hoping Max would show up for your anniversary dinner, only to find out from the story of your mutual friend that he was out with her again.

On your anniversary.

You made your way through the crowded streets, not caring where you ended up. You just needed to get away, to think, to process the hurt and betrayal. Your phone buzzed incessantly in your pocket, but you ignored it. Max's calls and messages could wait. Right now, you needed space.

After wandering aimlessly for a while, you found yourself at the edge of the city, near the river. The quiet contrast of the flowing water was a welcome change from the city's noise. You sat on a bench, pulling your jacket tighter around you as a light drizzle began to fall. The soft patter of rain on the water's surface was soothing, but it didn’t dull the ache in your heart.

Minutes turned into an hour, and the rain intensified. Your phone buzzed again, and this time you glanced at it. Last message from Max was a minute ago

Max: Y/N, please. Where are you? Let me explain. I’m looking for you.

You sighed, wiping away the raindrops mixed with your tears. Your fingers hovered over the screen before you finally typed a reply.

You: By the river. Near the old bridge.

You didn’t know why you told him, but some part of you wanted to hear him out. To understand why he kept doing this. Why would he even waste time with you if he was already in love with someone else?

God. Even the thought of that brought up a real pain in your chest. The rain fell harder, and you huddled under the small awning of a nearby building, trying to stay somewhat dry.

After what felt like an eternity, you saw a figure running towards you through the rain. It was Max, drenched and breathless. He slowed as he approached, his eyes filled with worry and regret. HIs clothes were all over the place, untucked and wrinkled and you only drew the worst conclusion.

”Y/N,” he gasped, stopping a few feet away. ”Thank God, you're okay.”

You stood up, arms crossed defensively. ”You’ve got five minutes, Max. Make it count.”

He nodded, taking a step closer. ”I’m so sorry, Y/N. I know I’ve let you down. I was with her tonight because she’s going through a really rough time. She had no one else to turn to.”

You narrowed your eyes, the skepticism clear. ”On our anniversary? How convenient.”

He flinched at your tone but didn’t back down. ”I know it’s no excuse. I should have told you. I thought I could help her quickly and still make it to dinner. I didn’t realize it would take so long.”

You shook your head, the anger bubbling up again. ”This isn’t the first time, Max. How many times have I had to wonder if she’s really just a friend? How many times have you put her before me?”

Max stepped closer, his eyes pleading. ”I’ve been blind, Y/N. I didn’t see how much I was hurting you. There’s nothing romantic between us. She’s just a friend, and she needed my help. But I see now that I’ve been unfair to you.”

Tears mixed with the rain on your cheeks. ”I don’t know if I can keep doing this, Max. The constant worry, the feeling like I’m not enough. It’s tearing me apart.”

He reached out, tentatively taking your hand. ”You are more than enough, Y/N. I’ve been an idiot, and I’m so sorry. I love you, and I don’t want to lose you.”

You looked into his eyes, searching for any sign of deception. All you saw was sincerity and regret. ”How can I trust you again, Max? What did she even need help with?”

He squeezed your hand gently. ” She saw her ex at the club and he was being an asshole. I just went over for five to put him in his place when one of her friends posted the story. I’m sorry for the delay, baby. I know I should've been more transparent about everything. Just please, give me a chance to make things right.”

”Is she okay?” You took a shaky breath, your heart aching with the desire to believe him and he exhaled when you pulled him under the shit excuse of shelter you had from the rain.

”She’s okay. I promise I won't ever embarrass you this way again, baby. You won’t ever have to sit and wonder if I'm bailing because I found someone else or not.” Max took another deep breath. ”I never will, baby, you are the only one I want. I will never find anyone.”

You closed your eyes, the tears spilling over as you hugged him. ”I wanna go home.”

”Okay let’s go home, baby.” Max gently cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away your tears. ”But I need you to know. You are my priority, Y/N. I’ll never let you feel otherwise again. I love you more than anything, and I’ll spend every day proving it to you.”

You leaned into his touch, feeling a flicker of hope amidst the pain as you hugged him.

He sighed again, closing his eyes to soak in this. ”Happy anniversary, baby. I love you”

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him with a tired smile.

Carlos Sainz

Carlos's pleas had grown quieter, the urgency in his voice replaced with a softness that seemed to seep through the crack under the door.

You could hear his breath hitching, a clear sign that he was on the verge of breaking down himself. But you couldn’t get yourself to stand up as you sat on the bed, knees drawn to your chest, tears still streaming down your face as you tried to block out the sound.

”Y/N, please,” he choked out, and you could hear the tears in his voice now. ”I'm so sorry. I... I don't know what else to say. I can't lose you.”

The sincerity and raw emotion in his voice cut through you in a vicious manner, and against your better judgment, you found yourself getting up. You hesitated for a moment, your hand hovering over the doorknob, before finally opening the door just a crack.

Carlos was standing there, his eyes red and swollen from crying. When he saw you, a look of profound relief washed over his face. ”Thank you,” he whispered.

You stepped back, letting him in. He walked in slowly, as if afraid to invade your space, and you closed the door behind him. The silence was heavy, each second stretching into an eternity.

”I'm so sorry,” Carlos said again, his voice trembling. ”I swear, I didn't know she was going to kiss me. If I had known, I would have never invited her. I would never do anything to hurt you intentionally.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your own shaking voice. ”But you did invite her, Carlos. And I told you to cut her off so many times. Why didn't you listen?”

He ran a hand through his hair, looking utterly defeated. ”I thought... I thought we were just friends. I didn't realize she felt that way about me. And when she kissed me, I was so shocked. I— I froze. I'm an idiot. I should have pushed her away immediately.”

”You should have,” you echoed, your voice breaking as you recalled that scene and it felt like someone was physically stabbing you. ”Do you have any idea how much it hurt to see that?”

Carlos stepped closer, his eyes pleading. ”I know, and I'm so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. I love you, Y/N. You're the only one I want to be with.”

You looked down, tears falling onto the floor. ”How do I know that, Carlos? How do I know you won't let this happen again?”

He gently took your hands in his, his touch warm and reassuring. ”Because I can’t ever go through this again. I don’t want to know what it feels like to almost lose you. I'll cut her off completely. I promise you, baby, just, anything— it will never happen again.”

You pulled your hands away, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively. ”It's not just about cutting her off, Carlos. I can never get that image out of my brain now. What if you just wake up tomorrow that you didn’t get rid of her because yo— you…?”

You trailed off but Carlos understood and immediately shook his head. ”No,” he said firmly. ”I will never wake up with anyone other than you in my heart. You’re the one I love, the one I am going to live my life with.”

He didn’t let you speak as he carried on,”I understand. Trust is earned, not given. And I'll do whatever it takes to earn it back. I'll prove to you that you can trust me.”

You sighed, feeling the weight of his words. ”I want to believe you. But it's going to take time. A lot of time.”

”I know,” he said softly. ”And I'm willing to wait. I'll wait as long as it takes for you to trust me again. Just please, don't shut me out. Let me be there for you.”

You looked into his eyes, seeing the genuine remorse and love in them. Despite everything, a part of you still loved him deeply. ”Okay,” you whispered. ”But you have to understand, it's going to be hard. I'm still hurt, and it's going to take a while for me to heal.”

Carlos nodded, a flicker of hope in his eyes. ”I'll be patient. I'll be here for you, no matter what. And I'll do everything I can to make it right.”

”Alright.” You nodded, feeling a glimmer of hope yourself. ”Just... don't make me regret it.”

”I won't,” Carlos stepped closer, tentatively reaching out to wipe a tear from your cheek. ”I love you, Y/N. More than anything.”

You gave him a small as you leaned into his touch, feeling a mix of emotions, ”I love you too, Carlos. That's why this hurts so much.”

He pulled you into a gentle hug, holding you as if you were the most precious thing in the world. ”We'll get through this. Together.”

Lewis Hamilton

You paced around your apartment, the anger and hurt from the argument still fresh. The silence after the exchange with Lewis was deafening. You couldn’t believe he said those things. Your phone buzzed on the couch, but you ignored it, needing space to process.

A knock on your door interrupted your thoughts. It was loud and persistent. You hesitated, hoping it wasn’t who you thought it was.

”Y/N, please open up. I need to talk to you,” Lewis’s voice came through the door, sounding desperate.

You took a deep breath and opened the door. Your boyfriend stood there, looking remorseful.

”What do you want, Lewis?” you asked, your voice cold.

”Can I come in? Please, we need to talk,” he pleaded.

You stepped aside reluctantly, letting him in. He walked into the living room, turning to face you with regret etched on his face.

”I’m sorry, Y/N,” he started, his voice soft as he ran a hand over his face. ”I didn’t mean what I said. I was frustrated— but that’s no excuse.”

”You really hurt me,” you said, crossing your arms defensively knowing you had to support yourself before you start crying again. ”And you were so fucking cruel about it!”

”I know, and I hate that I did that to you,” he replied, his eyes sincere. ”I’ve been spending too much time with her, and I’ve been blind to how it’s been affecting you— us. Affecting us.”

”Why do you keep seeing her then? If she’s just a friend, why does it feel like she’s more important than me?” you demanded, your voice shaking.

”She’s not more important than you,” he said quickly. ”I’ve let the boundaries blur, and I didn’t realize how much it was hurting you. I’m sorry.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you blinked them away. This was not what you expected. You were ready for a fight, sure that Lewis would come with his own weapons out but this was undoing you.

”It’s not just about her, Lewis. It’s about us. You’ve been distant, and I feel like I’m losing you.”

Lewis nodded, looking pained and sick. ”You’re not losing me, Y/N. I’ve been an idiot, and I’ve taken you for granted. I want to fix this.”

”How?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. Desperately clinging onto him to make amends because you couldn’t see any in hindsight.

”By being more present, by setting boundaries, and by showing you every day how much you mean to me,” he said, taking your hands in his. ”Please give me a chance to make this right.”

”Words aren’t enough anymore,” you said, looking down at your joined hands.

”I know,” he nodded. ”But I'm willing to go through any lengths, I’ll prove to you that you’re my priority.”

You searched his eyes, seeing the determination and regret. ”I want to trust you,” as your voice cracked, the very first tear fell down your face and Lewis immediately grabbed you as he pulled you to lay your head on his chest.

”I can’t though— I wish I could but I can't get hurt again.”

”I understand and I promise you can shoot me if I hurt you again” he said. ”I love you, Y/N. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right.”

You leaned into his embrace, feeling a flicker of hope amidst the pain. ”I love you too.” You felt him take a sigh as he held you tight against his warm body.

”And I need you to understand that my feelings are valid,” you continued as you soaked his shirt with your tears. ”When I tell you something bothers me, I need you to listen and not dismiss it.”

”I promise I’ll listen,” he said, his voice full of sincerity. ”I’ll do better because losing you would end me.”

You took a deep breath, feeling a weight lift slightly. As you stood there in your boyfriend’s arms, you realized that healing would take time but there was no one else you would rather heal with. Though only time could tell what the future held for you.

Oscar Piastri

You closed your eyes as you heard the door of your best friend's apartment being knocked on again. Your mind was a whirlwind of emotions—anger, betrayal, sadness.

You replayed the messages over and over in your head, each one cutting deeper than the last as you contemplated whether letting Oscar in would be a good decision. You finally made the decision when you heard the neighbor’s lock moving.

You pulled him in before they could open their door or call the cops and finally took a look at him. He looked disheveled. His eyes were red from holding unshed tears as they glossed over once he finally took you in.

”Y/N,” Oscar started, moving towards you with open arms. ”Thanks for letting me in.”

”I almost didn't.” You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to keep your voice steady as you stepped away from his open arms. ”But you were waking up the whole damn building.”

Oscar nodded, looking down at the ground. ”I deserve that.” You took a deep breath, desperate to get this over with.

”Why, Oscar? Why did you lie to me?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. ”I... I was scared you'd get upset. I thought if I told you the truth, you'd leave me.”

”And now?” you scoffed, your voice rising. ”You think I'm not upset now? You think lying to me makes it any better?”

He stepped closer, his eyes pleading. ”Y/N, I made a mistake. A huge mistake. But nothing happened between me and her, I swear. We were drunk, and she sat on my lap for a picture. It was stupid and irresponsible, but that's all it was.”

You shook your head, tears welling up in your eyes. ”Do you have any idea how that made me feel? Seeing her on your lap after you told me she wasn't even going to be there?”

Oscar reached out to touch your arm, but you stepped back once again and his eyes brimmed with tears. ”Y/N, please. I love you. I was an idiot, but I love you. I need you to believe that.”

You wiped your eyes, trying to compose yourself. ”How can I believe you, Oscar? When I don't even know if you really want me?”

He swallowed hard, his tears finally falling out of his eyes. Oscar looked defeated as if he was fighting a battle already lost.

”Please don’t say that. You’re the only person I want. I'll do whatever it takes to earn your trust back. I'll never lie to you again. I'll be completely honest, even if it's something I think will hurt you. Just... please give me a chance to make it right.”

You looked at him, searching his face for any sign of deception. You saw only earnest regret and a desperate longing for forgiveness. You wanted to believe him, but the hurt was still so raw.

”I don't know if I can,” you whispered. ”You've broken my trust, Oscar. And that's not something you can just fix with words.”

He nodded slowly. ”I know. But I'm willing to do whatever it takes. I'll go to counseling, I'll give you access to my phone, my social media, anything you need to feel secure. Just please, don’t give up on us.”

You stood in silence for a moment, the weight of the situation heavy in the air. You looked around the dimly lit apartment, as you took a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts.

”Okay,” you said finally. ”I’m willing to discuss this in the morning. But if you lie to me again, if you hurt me again, we're done. Do you understand?”

Oscar's face lit up with a mixture of relief and determination as his chest heaved. ”I understand. I promise you, Y/N, I'll never give you a reason to doubt me again.”

You nodded, as your lips quivered. ”I hope so. Because I don't think I can go through this again.”

He stepped closer, cautiously taking your hand. You allowed it, feeling the warmth of his touch. ”Thank you,” he said softly. ”I won't let you down.”

You stood together, still holding hands. The silence between you was different now—tentative, but with a flicker of understanding. You had a long way to go, but for the first time since those fateful messages, you felt like maybe, just maybe, not all was lost.

( writing masterlist \ main masterlist \ drop a request ) ©maxtermind // do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

[thinkinonsense]

i just listened to sabrina's new album and oh my god the song slim pickins is such a song that was written from daydreaming about lumberjack!logan, oh and the recent fic that you reblogged was just so yummy and perfect for that song especially the lyrics "a boy who's jacked and nice" like god having to settle down for less because nobody can be him 😭😭😭 need him expeditiously im afraid

it's slim pickins

lumberjack!logan howlett x fem!reader

cw: yearning!! fluff, tiny nsfw conversation (nothing graphic)

a/n: this request couldn't have come in at a better time because i'm seeing sabrina on opening night of her tour tomorrow night!! <3

masterlist

"am i just destined to be alone forever?"

another friday night in the hole in the wall bar outside of town. another date gone horribly wrong. your question hangs heavy in the air as you gossip to your best friend who's bartending tonight.

"you keep picking douche bags." she answers without missing a beat.

"well, that's fuckin' rude." you slur slightly, sipping on your third fruity drink tonight.

"well, it's fuckin' true." she smiles, looking over your shoulder at a group of men that walked in. "why don't you go talk to one of them? they look hot."

you spin around in your stool to see a group of lumberjack workers. these were the men that you worked with, you can't flirt with them.

"i work with those guys!" you hiss.

"sooo...?" she smirks.

both of you quickly end the conversation with the five guys approach the bar. the last thing you needed was for these guys to see the desperate and pathetic look on your face. quickly, you rummage through your purse for some cash to put down.

"what are you doing here, doll face?" a familiar voice asks.

you look up and see the most handsome of the men, in front of you; logan. twice your size, buff, toned, tan... god, you had such a crush on him. never in a million years would you go after him though, he's too good to want a girl like you. you were just a friend. he make small talk with you, laughed at your jokes, calls you little nicknames, and refills the coffee pot for you but thats what friends do, right?

"oh... um, i'm just-"

"she's been sitting here moaning and bitching to me all night about her horrible date." your best friend smiles then introduces herself to logan with a handshake.

"thanks asshole." you mumble under your breath at her, making logan chuckle.

"tough night?" he asks, looking down at you in a way that makes heat rises up your face.

"kinda, but i'll save you all the gory details." you admit, sliding off the tall stool a little ungracefully. "have a good night, logan."

"wait, doll face." he says, grabbing your arm to balance you. "wanna talk about it? i'm sure your friend here is busy."

the alcohol let him take you to one of the booths. all the other men noticed logan and you sitting together, definitely making mental notes to tease you both on monday.

"so, what's on your mind?" logan asks, taking a swig of his beer.

"it's nothing really..." your mouth says one thing but your phone says another; practically buzzing off the table.

"you sure?" he raises a brow.

"uh... yeah?" you sound confused as you peak at the notification. an annoyed groan falls from your lips as you slam the phone back down and sink into the booth. "why? why? why?"

"why what?" he squints.

"be honest, do i have dumbass written on my forehead?" you sigh, hazily looking over at logan. the question threw him off guard; unsure if you're joking or not.

"no." he answers.

" well, i sure feel like one. every guy i've gone out with is either the most obnoxious asshole i've ever met who's still hung up on his ex or he's absolutely perfect but he's just not ready for a commitment right now? what the fuck does that even mean?"

all of your drunk rambling surprised logan. at work, he's only seen your shy personality as you scribble down numbers and log them into spreadsheets. this was a completely different side of you.

"i know what you're thinking, 'why not just try dating a woman?'. well, i fucking would if this town wasn't stuck in the 50's, except the men aren't going to war in order to get away from you, instead they just run back in between their ex's thighs and pull that 'it's not you, it's me' bullshit."

it was getting harder for logan not to crack at your silly yet, adorable expressions as you rant.

"and the worst part is that they can't even get a woman to orgasm." you say a little quieter. logan stores that quote in his pocket for another time. "a few weeks ago, i literally had a man in my bed who didn't know the difference between their, there, and they're! i don't know who's stupider, him for not knowing or me for letting him give me the worst head in my life."

if you were even a little sober, this would be mortifying. sitting in front of your work crush and spilling pathetic details of your love life to him. if you were even a little sober, you would have notice his eyes turn dark and lustful under the dim bar lighting. logan couldn’t fathom that you were having trouble in your love life.

"sounds like it's slim pickins out there."

"you have no idea." you sigh.

"if it makes you feel any better, i don't think that you're stupid."

"you're just saying that to be polite. trust me, everyone thinks i'm an idiot for taking these guys back every time. im just like my mom, my sisters, my friends, and every other girl i know. we make up excuses for their shitty behavior because we are afraid to be alone."

logan could see tears forming in your waterline, about to roll down your cheek. it hurt him to see you so heartbroken over these losers. everyday at work, you came in like a ray of fucking sunshine. you didn't deserve to be treated like this.

"it's not your fault that those asshole don't know how to treat a woman." he sighs, leaning forward in an attempt to comfort you.

"i know, i know..." your voice was cracking and you didn't want logan to see you so vulnerable. suddenly, you rise from the booth. "thanks for listening, logan."

"where do you think you're going, doll face?" he asks, following you out the door.

"should head home." you mumble, pulling up the number of a car service about twenty minutes out.

"let me give you a ride home." he offers. "you've been drinking too much."

it's late, you're exhausted and heartbroken so, you let him help you into his truck. it's kinda old but full of character, like logan.

"what's going on in that pretty head of yours?" logan asks, breaking the silence in the car. "still sad?"

you shrug. "think i'm just going to become a nun."

he tried, he really did, but he had to laugh.

"sweetheart, there's no need to become a nun."

"well, i'm never going to find the man i'm looking for so, might as well join the sisterhood."

"what are you looking for in this dream man?"

logan's question has your eyes wondering over to where his left hand sets on the wheel and his right on thigh. the images of what his hands could do flood your fuzzy mind.

"j-just a good guy who's um, who's kind, jacked... respectful, good with his hands...."

it was shameless, your staring that is. logan worried you might get drool on the car seat, not that he would mind.

"hm... those seem like simple requirements there."

"apparently not." you giggle. "it's fine, though. i'm sure the nuns will be friendly."

"still thinking about joining the 'sisterhood'?" he asks, pulling up to your drive way.

"maybe... i'll give it twenty-four hours and if he doesn't come knocking on my door, i'll just buy a chasity belt and go off the grid with the nuns." your smile warmed his cold bitter heart. "thanks for the ride, lo. i'll see you monday."

as logan watches you fumble with your keys and make your way inside, he fights an internal battle over his feelings. he has had a crush on you since the day the two of you first met. by the end of the week, you had baked him some cupcakes, babbling about how you do this for all the new employees, which was far from the truth he later learned.

you captured his heart. even when he tried to burry his feelings for you, when logan looked at you, his world stood still for a moment. he looked forward to all your silly jokes in the break room or the ridiculous gossip you would tell him when he lingered outside of your office door. he couldn't let you slip away into the arms of another asshole who didn't deserve you.

before logan could comprehend what he was doing, his feet lead him up to your door, knocking twice. the wooden door opened and he knew he made the right decision.

there you were in your light blue and grey plaid pajamas with a cupcake in your hand and vanilla frosting on your bottom lip. logan had never seen you look prettier.

"hey? did i leave something in the–"

in the blink of an eye, logan’s hands reach up to caress your jaw, leaning in until his mouth engulfs yours. the taste of vanilla and alcohol surrounded both of you. forgetting the cupcake in your hand, dropping it to reach up and pull logan closer. kissing him was like drinking a glass of wine after a long day. no more stress or anxiety over anyone else’s bullshit. the two of you gasp against each others lips, catching your breath.

“i could be the good guy, you know?” logan pants, now forever addicted to your taste. “i could be the good guy for you.”

your heart fluttered as you stared up at his pretty hazel eyes, twirling a piece of his hair around your finger. this had to be a very realistic dream, thats the only answer to this.

“you would do that for me, logan?” your delicate voice could bring him to his knees, worshiping the ground you walk on.

“i would do anything for you, honey.” he whispers, leaning back in to kiss you again. maybe your dream guy wasn't as far away as you thought?

[thedovahqueen]

I ran out of tags again 😭 I feel like it would be more surprising if I HADN'T waffled

Phantasmagoria (Part II)

Tell Me to Stop (Sanemi’s Version)

Sanemi x F!Reader • Modern AU • NSFW

A/N: read the fucking warnings before you report.

Massive TW: grief • loss of a parent • canon character death • drug and alcohol abuse • panic attacks • implied attempted sexual assault (not described, happens off-page • non-consensual photos being texted around (very briefly described, and then it’s just a mention of a bite mark) • violence between characters • brief description of Douma getting his face pounded in (deserved)

CW: 14k words. MDNI. explicit sexual content ahead (opens mid-fuck) • creampies • oral (f! and m!receiving) • rough oral • throat fucking • cum eating • ass-smacking • hate(?)fucking • toxic ass FWB • swearing • angst

I promise Part III will have angst BUT also lots of fluff/intimacy/care.

Without further ado!

Three weeks had passed since Sanemi first brought her home with him when Y/N realized she was utterly fucked.

Sure, at that moment, the platinum-haired man had her bent over his kitchen table, arms pinned behind her back as he pounded mercilessly into her, but she realized that she was also fucked because nothing had ever or would ever compare to the way Sanemi made her feel.

It had started only as an occurrence whenever they were out at night, with Y/N tugging Sanemi into Kizuki’s seedy bathroom to bounce against his lap. Sanemi had been forced to muffle his groans by sucking harshly on her breast as he fucked her against the bathroom wall, only for her to succinctly pull off him the moment he finished to return to her friends, Shinobu discretely handing her a napkin to wipe the remnants of his pleasure as it dripped down her thighs.

Then, she started letting him bring her back to his apartment from the various clubs and bars their groups visited. She grew content to let him lay her over the side of his bed to swirl that sinful tongue around her needy, demanding clit as his thick fingers steadily pumped in and out of her aching cunt while he fucked her mouth, his seed spilling down her throat with a force that threatened to obliterate any dwindling part of her that had not been utterly consumed by him.

But that still had not been enough for Y/N — or for Sanemi, apparently.

Because their late-night trysts had quickly evolved into near-daily rendezvouses, both stone-cold sober and texting each other in the middle of the day, in desperate need to feel the other’s body pressed flush against their own. And as wrong as it was, Y/N loved it; she craved it more than any pretty Wisteria pill or sticky fruity drink.

Because all it took was one taste for Y/N to end up right back in the scarred palm of Sanemi Shinazugawa’s hand, begging him to fuck her back to life.

And fuck her he did. The top of her sundress had been pulled down to her waist, and the wooden grain of his kitchen table bit into her bare breasts as Sanemi’s hips slapped roughly against her ass. Y/N was close to sobbing because god, it felt fucking good when he got rough with her like that, when he made her feel anything other than the crippling numbness that seemed to spread through her with each passing day.

He released her arms to lean forward and ghost his lips up her spine, all the way to the back of her neck, and Y/N came hard, just like she did every time they came together because Sanemi knew how to set every nerve in her body on fire with his addicting touch and addicting kiss.

One rough hand made its way under her jaw to twist her head back so he could claim her lips with his, coming as he did so, his groan of pleasure muffled by Y/N sliding her tongue into his mouth.

She hated how much she loved him.

—————————————————————————

They’d been sleeping together for nearly a month when Sanemi decided to test her patience.

“So, are we gonna talk about it?” Y/N cringed, because no, she most certainly did not want to talk about it; not then, not ever, and especially not with him.

“Why would we?” She responded flippantly, twirling the straw in the dregs of her drink. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Bullshit,” Sanemi snapped at her. “You’ve spent the last two years running away from us, and you think there’s nothing to talk about?”

Y/N met his stare hard, her own returning glare cold. “Running implies effort.”

“D’you really think I didn’t try to find you?” Sanemi grabbed her wrist, keeping her from getting up and leaving the bar. “But god forbid you be vulnerable, huh?”

————————————————————————-

“Oh, God forbid you be vulnerable, ‘Nemi,” Y/N gave him an exaggerated eye roll as she leaned her head against Kyojuro’s shoulder.

“You’re sayin’ you would let yourself get that…close with someone?” Sanemi argued, and with a sigh, Kyojuro paused the movie.

They weren’t supposed to be watching a movie with such steamy scenes, but Y/N’s mother had stepped out to cover a shift for a friend, and the trio of teenagers had been left without supervision.

Really, the movie hadn’t been that bad; but the film’s shining sex scene had been several minutes long, each of the teenagers shifting uncomfortably on the couch as the sound of moans filled the basement where they’d gathered to watch.

The scene had passed, but Y/N’s and Sanemi’s argument over a particular detail had not.

“If you’re already having sex, why does it matter what position it’s in?” Y/N half shrieked with laughter as both boys turned scarlet. “Isn’t intimacy the whole point?”

Sanemi turned his face away, embarrassed. “All I’m sayin’ is I don’t think I’d ever let a woman have that much power over me.” Sanemi was referring to the way the female character had climbed atop the love interest and began riding him, her head tipped back as loud, lascivious moans fell from her lips.

It was Kyo’s turn to laugh. “You’d have to get a woman in that position, to begin with, Shinazugawa.”

Sanemi made a disgruntled sound. “Bro code says you’re supposed to be on my side, Rengoku,”

Beneath where her cheek lay, Kyojuro vibrated as he laughed heartily. “I’m not saying I’m not! Just that you’ve got a few steps to take before you have to worry about it.”

“Worry about being too vulnerable,” Y/N screwed her eyes up and stuck her tongue out on the last word as she teased him, settling back in against the couch as she grabbed the remote from Kyo’s hand and re-started the movie.

—————————————————————————

“You would know all about that, wouldn’t you?” Y/N said frostily, stomping away from the bar and from him.

She didn’t know why she tried to run away from him, not when it was so pointless. Because an hour later, Y/N found herself on the edge of Sanemi’s bed, as he hooked her legs over his muscled shoulders. Face buried deep in her cunt, he lifted her off the mattress, suspending her mid-air and upside down as he ravished her while she sobbed for him to do more, to give her more until she could not possibly take anything else from him.

Perhaps he was punishing her; maybe she deserved it. All Y/N knew, as Sanemi finally tore his mouth away from her weeping core and flipped her onto her knees before slamming her back on his steely length, was that if this was her punishment for loving Sanemi Shinazugawa, she would gladly take it.   

The last thing she thought, as Sanemi spilled into her for the second time that evening, thumb swirling her clit and his teeth buried in her neck, was that she was grateful to be on birth control.

—————————————————————————

“Do you like doing that?” Kyojuro’s voice was hesitant over the vibration of the music and laughter of drunken revelers gathered to let loose on the Kizuki dancefloor, and Y/N had to lean closer to hear him at all.

Y/N frowned slightly as she pushed her dissolving Wisteria to her cheek. “It’s just a recreational thing, while we’re out, y’know?”

She didn’t know why she was explaining herself to him, or why she felt like she had to, but Kyojuro had always been one of the few people who could pull the truth out of her with little effort, and in the back of her mind, she knew that made him dangerous. After all, he might get her to confess that she’d missed his smile or missed the blazing heat of Sanemi’s stare whenever she spoke.

Kyojuro reached out and brushed a lock of her hair that had fallen loose from one of her space buns behind her ear. “You were always so straight-edge. I guess I’m just surprised.”

Y/N wanted to smack his hand away but found herself leaning into the steadying warmth of his touch. “Things change, I suppose.”

Kyojuro winced, and his eyes filled with a sadness that was too out of place here in this den of debauchery. “Where did it all go wrong, Y/N? What happened?”

It all went wrong when Sanemi and Genya’s parents were killed in that car crash, making the boys wards of the state who were then bounced around from foster home to foster home. It all went wrong when Genya defended another boy in a fight that wasn’t his to begin with and ended up dead on a sidewalk. It all went wrong when Sanemi lashed out at her and condemned her with a few choice words that seemed grossly disproportionate to what she’d actually said. It all went wrong when Kyojuro decided that being there for Sanemi meant he had to abandon her, too, and then they’d both forgotten about her while she’d lost everything.

But Y/N couldn’t unload all of that right then. “Things change, Kyojuro.” She repeated, though her voice was slightly weaker than it had been, wobbling slightly in a way that Y/N knew meant she would cry if given long enough.

“But you’re our friend, Y/N-” Kyojuro pled, but it was the wrong thing to say, and he cringed as he watched her clam up almost instantly.

—————————————————————————

“She’s our friend!” Kyojuro said hotly, though, with his missing front tooth, it was hard to see him as anything but adorable, even as he glowered at the sneering girl, as he helped Y/N stand up from where she’d been knocked over.

“What a weirdo!” Ume, the small, white-haired girl who always looked like she smelled something unpleasant, reached to yank one of Y/N’s pigtails harshly, causing her to cry out in pain. “And you’re ugly, too!”

Y/N had only been trying to join in on Ume’s tea party that she held with the other girls in their class. But when she’d boldly tried to sit down amongst them, the cruel little girl had shoved her harshly out of the circle they’d formed on the blacktop,

Kyojuro smacked the beastly little girl’s hand away. “Hit her again, and I’ll make you sorry!” He threatened, and for once, the girl had the wits to look slightly intimidated at the blonde who towered over her.

“If you hit me, I’ll tell my brother on you!” The troll hissed, but it did little to cow Kyojuro, who shouldered past her as he steered the softly crying Y/N away from the horrid little group of girls.

“Y/N, are you okay?” The blonde asked worriedly after they were out of sight of Ume, turning her around to look her over.

“I-I just w-wanted to be t-their friend!” Y/N hiccupped, her tears flowing freely down her cheeks. “But they were s-so mean!”

Kyojuro pat her head, just like he did with his baby brother. “You don’t want to be their friend, Y/N,” he said kindly. “Not when they’re so mean. Stick with me and Sanemi! We’ll always look after you!”

Y/N wiped her eyes and tugged at her loose pigtail, all messed from Ume’s harsh grip. “Do you promise?”

Kyojuro smiled as brightly as the sun. “I promise! I will always be here to watch after you – whenever you need me! I’ll be there!”

—————————————————————————

Y/N patted the warm brawn of Kyojuro’s shoulder sympathetically. “I was, Kyo,” her use of his nickname somehow made him hurt more, his mouth wobbling somewhat as his eyes mirrored the resignation in hers. “But it’s just as I said,”

Y/N reached for Mitsuri’s discarded drink on the counter and tipped it back, draining the last dregs of alcohol. “Things change.”

—————————————————————————

Y/N was leaning against the counter of the bar, nursing her beer as she watched her pink friend giggle and murmur sweetly to the black-haired boy dancing with her, the latter’s hands hesitantly gripping her friend’s waist.

“You don’t approve?” A familiar voice rose over the pounding bass of the club music from her side. Y/N didn’t have to turn her head to know who’d sidled up next to her – she would know his blistering heat anywhere.

She tapped her fingers against the sweaty side of her glass. “I just don’t know why he won’t make a move,” Y/N said after a long moment, a frown pulling at the corners of her red-painted lips.

Sanemi followed her line of sight and his mouth pressed into a hard line. “Maybe he wants to, but he thinks it’ll just make things worse.” He said after a moment, voice quiet.

Y/N hummed in disagreement. “He’s making it worse by not doing anything at all – he’s made her think it’s her fault things aren’t working out between them.”

“He doesn’t mean to,” Sanemi offered. “He does care about her. More than she realizes.” He watched as Obanai delicately brushed a strand of Mitsuri’s pink hair from her eyes.

Y/N finally rolled her head to the side to look at him, and idly she wondered if her eyes looked as numb as she felt. “If he did, he wouldn’t keep hurting her; wouldn’t have hurt her to begin with.”

Sanemi stared back at her, and it made her heart squeeze to see the faintest trace of pain in his gaze, even in spite of his small smile. “’S not that simple, though.”

She looked away. “It could’ve been,” Y/N took a long sip of her drink, part of her hoping that he couldn’t catch the jaded edge that crept into her voice. “And now all they know how to do is use one another.”

Sanemi’s gaze upon her was uncomfortable, and not just because it felt like he was stripping down every carefully crafted wall she’d erected around herself during their estrangement. The genuine flash of hurt in his eyes made her feel slick, oily, and so very wrong.

The pair watched as the mismatched couple on the dancefloor swayed together, Obanai’s eyes wide the whole time, as though he could not believe he had the good fortune of holding the beautiful, colorful girl in his arms. Y/N tried to feel happy for her friend, but it was difficult, especially when he knew that the night would inevitably end with Mitsuri in tears, lamenting that her dark-haired lover had yet again insisted he was not good enough for her, and he would leave Y/N to pick up the pieces of her friend’s broken heart.

“They should let themselves try,” Sanemi murmured, bringing Y/N’s attention back to him.

In one smooth gulp, Y/N polished off the rest of her drink, the warm buzz of alcohol loosening her tongue. “Trying is for those who haven’t lost hope.” Y/N squared her shoulders and steeled herself to return to the dancefloor once more. “And Mitsuri is about to learn that lesson.”

Later, just as Y/N predicted, Obanai left but Mitsuri did not go with him. As she wrapped an arm around her crying best friend to steer her out of the club, Y/N looked back to Sanemi, still at the bar, and hoped he could see the I told you so in her eyes.

————————————————————————-

It was July, and Sanemi was getting on her last nerves.

“Y/N, you need to stop,” Sanemi’s voice was gruff as his hand closed over her wrist, restraining her from raising the little violet pill to her lips — her second of the night.

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him. “I didn’t realize you were my father,” she tried to turn away from him, but he caught her shoulder, wrenching her back around and swatting at the hand clutching her key to euphoria.

“Cut the shit, Y/N.” He ignored the way she glared at him, as she watched her pill bounced to the floor and disappeared. “You’re destroying yourself; you know that?”

Y/N’s blood turned to ice in her veins. “It’s none of your business, Shinazugawa,” and he flinched at her use of his surname. “Why do you even care?”

Sanemi almost looked menacing as he stares at her under the flashing strobes of the Kizuki. “You’re my friend.”

————————————————————————-

“Because Sanemi,” Y/N sniffed, “You’re my friend.”

Though Sanemi’s bandages covered most of his face, he could just make out the teary sincerity in the young girl’s eyes as she squeezed his good hand where it lay against his hospital bed.

At that moment, Sanemi had felt guilty for snapping at his long-time best friend. He’d known that she hadn’t meant any harm when she asked him if the multitude of lacerations that now covered the right side of his body were permanent. But Sanemi had woken up to the news that he and Genya were now all alone in the world, and he couldn’t help but feel sorry for himself; he couldn’t help his need to wallow in the sadness and misery that threatened to suffocate him.

And so, he’d lashed out.

“Tch, who’d wanna be friends with a scarred freak like me?” He snapped back, though the sourness in his gut intensified as the tears slipped faster down Y/N’s cheeks.

“I do,” she insisted. “We’ve been best friends since we were babies.” Amidst the sniffling desperation in her eyes, the first inklings of anger began to shine through. “You can’t just decide to quit being friends! That’s not fair!”

“I don’t care if you have scars!” Y/N’s voice grew more shrill over the slow, steady beeps of the various machines to which Sanemi found himself attached. “I’ve always thought you were…were… pretty!” She sputtered.

For once, Sanemi had been stumped into silence. The young boy found himself suddenly grateful that most of his face was indeed covered by several layers of thick medical gauze, given the way he felt his cheeks heat at Y/N’s furious declaration.

“And I will always want to be your friend!” Y/N finished dramatically, crossing her arms, and flinging herself back in the plastic chair she’d dragged over by his hospital bed.

“All right,” Sanemi murmured, grateful that he could blame the crack in his voice on his impending puberty. “All right. We’re friends.”

“Best friends,” Y/N corrected, though the sparkle had returned to her eyes.

—————————————————————————

Y/N laughed without humor. “You think, because we fuck when we’re high or drunk, that makes us friends?”

Y/N laughed again, and Sanemi’s grip around her wrist tightened. “As I recall, Shinazugawa, it was you who ended our friendship, well before we ever started—” Y/N grimaced. “Whatever this is that we’re doing.”

“We hook up when we’re under the influence. Nothing more.” She finished, coldly.

A flash of hurt flit across his features, almost obscured by the pulsing lights of the club. “I’ve been sober for the last month, Y/N.”

Sanemi’s answer landed harder than she’d anticipated, in no short part because she hadn’t noticed he’d stopped taking Shinobu’s Wisteria, much less stopped drinking while they were all out together. As he said it, however, Y/N recalled the way it had been more than a month since they’d last hooked up at night, with Sanemi responding to her texts only in the morning or early enough in the evening before she’d had the chance to fall under the Wisteria’s magic spell.

In the back of her mind, Y/N knew she should be concerned with the way the Wisteria was beginning to dull her perception and her memory, but she couldn’t find it within her to care at that moment. She only wanted to make the man before her hurt, hurt the way he’d made her hurt for all these months.

But she couldn’t. There were a million insults on her tongue, waiting to be used, and she knew that he could take whatever it was she threw at him, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

“The sentiment is the same, drunk or sober,” Y/N said, half-heartedly. “We’re not friends. We haven’t been for a long time.”

The pain in Sanemi’s eyes was overshadowed by his own anger, a sure match to her own. “No? So, I’m just a stranger to you, hm?” He took a step closer to her and reached out his hand, gliding it teasingly up her bare arm. “A stranger whom you call and text every day to come and fuck you the way you like it, huh?”

He pulled her close to him, and Y/N let him because he was right, damn him. She craved his touch, his body, more than any tiny purple pill or acidic drink she could spend her money on. She craved him just as surely as she craved air.

But she could not admit that to him, not then, not there. So, Y/N merely breathed, “Yes,” as Sanemi’s hand wrapped under her jaw, his other one tangling in her hair to pull her head back and meet his eyes directly.

Sanemi kissed her, softly, before pulling away to smile ruefully at her. “Then have your pills, Y/N. But you can’t have me, too.”

He released her, and Y/N stepped back, thankful for the dim lighting of the club that concealed her blush. “I don’t need you,” she whispered, though she knew it was a lie. From the look that Sanemi gave her in response, as he retreated towards the bar, she could see he knew it, too.

Y/N sought out Shinobu for another one of her magic pills, but even before she’d allowed it to dissolve on her tongue, Y/N knew something was off. No longer was her world a vibrant array of colors beckoning her to the kaleidoscopic paradise she’d come to love. Instead, the Wisteria crumbled bitterly in her mouth, and no amount of stinging alcohol could chase away its acerbic aftertaste.

She tried to lose herself on the dance floor as she so often did, but it only worsened the sludge that pulsed through her veins.

Beneath the throb of multicolored lights, Y/N felt as though she was suffocating.

Y/N pushed and elbowed her way dizzily through the crush of people on the dance floor, lungs constricting to the point of pain as she struggled to take a breath, her limbs trembling. Her eyes landed on a pair of lilac irises studying her from across the club, and distantly, Y/N noticed how he straightened, his focus lasering in on her as she stumbled towards him.

She couldn’t deny the irony that she was so used to fleeing from him into the sparkling, sweaty array of club-goers, only to find herself desperate to run to him, for safety and comfort, away from the revelers who were suddenly too loud and too close.

He met her halfway, having moved from his place against the bar counter after noticing her distress. With more relief than Y/N knew she should feel, she collapsed against him, grateful for the steely warmth of his arms as they closed protectively around her. In his embrace, she found that she didn’t even mind the way his lips pressed against her damp forehead as he asked whether she was okay.

She wasn’t, and that was his fault to begin with, but he was there, holding her as if she mattered, and Y/N let herself melt.

—————————————————————————

An hour later, she was back in Sanemi’s apartment, crouched over his toilet while the cold tile of his bathroom floor bit into her knees as she heaved up her guts. Sanemi was there, too, seated behind her on the ground while he held her hair in his gentle grip, his free hand rubbing soothing circles into her back.

Between the spasms in her stomach, Y/N wondered if he could see the black sludge of her love for him mixed in with the bile courtesy of Shinobu’s bad Wisteria pill.

————————————————————————-

The next morning, he was yelling at her.

Y/N was confused as to why, exactly, his voice was raised at her, given how gentle he’d been with her the night before; it wasn’t as if she’d been trying to do anything different when he awoke.

She’d just been gathering her things to leave, as she always did. She never stayed after they’d finished, and he knew that — so it wasn’t her fault that he’d woken up and caught her trying to sneak out of his apartment.

“This has gotten out of hand, Y/N. You’re out of control,” Sanemi was blocking his front door, his face hard. If Y/N hadn’t known better, she would’ve thought she saw a hint of concern intermingled with the anger that filled his eyes.

“You were lucky last night that you only had a bad trip — but what if it had been mixed with something? What if Kocho’d made a bad batch?”

Y/N’s head was pounding, and the aftereffects from her the previous night were still echoing through her, twisting her world into something dark.

Sanemi’s raised voice wasn’t helping; not in the slightest.

Y/N felt her hands drift to her head as she covered her ears, her breath quickening as her lungs squeezed and spasmed in her chest.

“Stop,” Y/N pled, but her voice was weak and distant, and utterly drowned out by him.

“You’re killing yourself, don’t you see that?” Sanemi continued hotly. “D’you know how gaunt you look? How frail? This shit is killing you, Y/N.”

“For someone who constantly needs to be in control, you’ve completely lost it.”

“Stop, please, stop,”

“What would your mother think?”

“Stop.” Y/N repeated, and she said it again and again until she was half-screaming it, sobbing as she fell back against the hallway wall of Sanemi’s apartment. Distantly, Y/N recognized she was having a panic attack, and she knew it wasn’t really his fault, but his words had stung nonetheless.

Warm, gentle hands closed around her wrists as Sanemi lowered her hands from her ears and pulled her against his chest.

“Breathe,” he said, hoarsely. “Breathe, Y/N.”

It was too difficult to get a breath down as she gasped against him, his chest bare under the shirt he’d thrown on and failed to button in his haste to stop her before she could run. Beneath the warm skin under her cheek, Sanemi’s heart beat strong and sturdy, a lullaby that soothed the roar in her ears.

“Breathe with me,” Sanemi coaxed, peeling back from her, his hands coming to rest on either side of her head as he pressed his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. He inhaled, deep, for three counts before exhaling, and Y/N found herself falling into sync with him as her erratic heart slowed.

But as the jittery panic beneath her skin eased, a fire ignited in her blood, and suddenly, Y/N found herself boiling with anger.

“How dare you?” She shoved him away harshly, her eyes wild. “Who the fuck gave you the right to bring my mother into this? Don’t act like you suddenly give a shit about her memory.”

Sanemi stumbled back under her push, and he looked remorseful, more guilty than Y/N had ever known him to seem. “Y/N, I –“

“No, shut the fuck up,” She snapped. “I don’t believe you for a second, Sanemi. Not for one fucking second do I believe you care about me or about her at all.”

Y/N paced in front of Sanemi, still situated in front of the only entrance to and exit from his apartment. Fine, if he wanted to keep her in there with him, then he could deal with her rage.

“Not one fucking call,” Y/N began. “Not once did you or Kyojuro bother to check-in. ‘Hey, sorry we haven’t spoken in nine months, but we heard your mom got cancer, and she used to feed us when our parents wouldn’t, so we thought we’d check in and see how she was doing.’” She mimicked, cruelly. “Do you see how fucking simple that could have been?”

Sanemi only stared at her, his eyes an unfathomable mixture of sadness, remorse, and pain.

“But you didn’t,” Y/N said coldly. “You two fucked off and continued your merry little friendship together, so spare me the bullshit.”

“Y/N – Kyojuro cares. I care –“ Sanemi tried, but Y/N cut him off once more.

“Shut the fuck up!” She exploded, her hands flailing in front of her as she tried to push him away from her once more. “You don’t care, you never did! I’m just a warm body for you to fuck and that’s it.”

Y/N finally shoved past him, hand reaching for the door. “Don’t you dare pretend like I mean any more to you than that,” She spat.

She flung his door open, but Sanemi’s hand shot past her, slamming it shut once more. Y/N stood there, facing the door, chest heaving as she struggled to control her anger. “Let me go, Sanemi.” She said stiffly, refusing to turn around, to face him.

Sanemi’s hand found her shoulder and turned her around instead, and before she could blink, his mouth slammed down angrily over hers, his hands gripping her waist tight as his teeth nipped her bottom lip, demanding entry that Y/N couldn’t help but give him.

He was her weakness; always had been, always would be.

Sanemi pressed her against his doorway, a strangled groan tearing from his throat as Y/N palmed him through the sweatpants he’d haphazardly thrown on.

“Y/N,” he groaned as she increased the pressure of her hand slightly, her lips moving to his neck as she licked one of the small scars that lay near his jaw.

“I need you, Sanemi,” She murmured, and Sanemi’s eyes blew wide as he growled, arms locking around her middle as he heaved her up against his door.

Their lips met in a fiery exchange of tongue and teeth, biting, and sucking at the other possessively as they tore each other’s clothes from their body. Y/N ground down against Sanemi’s thick, bare length as it bounced against the underside of her thigh, the slick wet of her heat grazing him and causing him to moan in her ear.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Sanemi growled as he spun them away from the door, guiding them towards his kitchen as he laid her out over his counter, an arm only leaving its position at her waist to clear the assorted mail and spare keys he’d had organized there, letting it all fall to the linoleum floor.

Sanemi’s fingers worked their way between her legs as his lips wrapped around the peak of her breast and sucked, causing Y/N’s back to arch gracefully off the surface of his counter. His thumb stroked her aching bundle of nerves as his index finger swirled around her entrance, teasingly gathering her wetness around the calloused digit, before he sunk it into her, curling it so that he brushed against that sensitive spot on her front wall.

“Sanemi – ah,” she panted as he added yet another finger, her eyes nearly crossing at the sensation of his hand scissoring in and out of her, while his thumb continued to play with her clit. “I can’t wait – please,”

He hesitated for a moment, no doubt fighting every urge to sheathe himself within her heat in a single stroke, but he withdrew his fingers, nodding. With a surprising softness, Sanemi flipped Y/N over, pressing her down against the cool top of his kitchen counter, and used his knee to knock her thighs apart. One hand braced on her hip, the other gripped him at his base as he nudged her opening from behind, Y/N nearly drooled as she felt the hot, flared tip of his cock pressing flush against her entrance, and she rapaciously ground against him, eager to feel him inside of her.

Sanemi gradually eased himself into her wet, aching heat, no doubt taking his time because she’d demanded he take her before properly preparing her. Y/N whimpered at the stretch of her walls around him, as Sanemi groaned, loud and unrestrained, as he sank into her warmth, his chest heaving behind her.

One broad hand slid down the side of her leg, lifting it up to rest on the counter. With one long draw of his hips backwards, nearly withdrawing from her waiting cunt, Sanemi slammed back into her with a force that had her choking for her breath.

Sanemi began to fuck her, and she swore she saw the gates of Heaven.

With every sharp push and pull of his steely length, Y/N felt her eyes roll further back into her skull, as a stream of cries and whimpers poured from her mouth. She was helpless to do anything but push herself back against him as he pounded into her, slamming her back onto his cock over and over, as he moaned and cursed under his breath.  

“Fuck,” Sanemi panted in her ear. “Y/N – just stay. With me. Please.”

But Y/N did not answer him; could not, due to the incessant roll of his hips into hers, as Sanemi increased the force with which he thrust into her with every passing second, threatening to snatch every sane thought from her head.

Sanemi pushed her leg further up on his kitchen counter, a hand coming to rest against a cupboard to steady himself as he thrust deeper into her velvet heat.

His lips danced down the back of her neck, biting and sucking. The drive of his hips forced hers to bounce against the counter, the cheap plywood and plaster biting into her hipbones with every impassioned thrust of Sanemi’s cock as he withdrew from her glistening core, only to slam himself back into her.

“Ngh, Sanemi,” Y/N moaned, pushing herself back against him, needing him to go faster, harder, to make her forget all the ways he’d made her feel lonely and unwanted.

He bit down on her shoulder blade as his thrusts grew sloppy. “God, you feel so fuckin’ good for me, baby.”

Y/N was too enthralled by the hurried drag of Sanemi’s length in and out of her desperate cunt to care that he’d referred to her as “baby.” He could call her anything, anything at all, as long as he kept fucking her the way he was, against his kitchen counter.

Sanemi angled his hips and began hammering at the spot deep inside her that had her vision nearly whitening out.

“Fuck, S-Sanemi,” She whined. “I’m gonna cum—.” The ache in her belly flared the way it always did whenever Sanemi brought her close to her end.

“Not yet,” Sanemi groaned, though he found it difficult to keep holding himself back. “Stay with me a little longer, sweetheart.” One hand left its bruising grip on her hip in favor of reaching around her to squeeze at her breasts, as he rolled one of her nipples between his expert fingers.

“I can’t,” Y/N cried, begging. “Sanemi, please, oh please-,”

Sanemi removed his arms from her and brought them to the front of her knees, straightening her legs so they stuck out behind her, one braced on either side of his hips as he increased his rhythm, the loud clap of Y/N’s skin against the counter as he pounded harder into her threatening to drown out her moans.

Once he was sure she would not lower her legs, Sanemi’s hand came down against her backside, smacking her as he bounced her against him.

Y/N cried out in pleasure, beseeching Sanemi to do it again, and he obliged, bringing his hand down against her other cheek as she sobbed. Sanemi hissed as he felt the eager walls of her cunt squeeze him to the point of pain, keeping his bruising length locked within her as he chased his release.

The slight sting of his hand against the sensitive skin of her ass was too much for her to bear; with a keening howl, Y/N shattered around him, Sanemi following suit as his cum shot into her with a force that made him see white, her name the only mantra on his lips.

She was still in the thick of her orgasm when Sanemi abruptly pulled out, his cum dripping from her spasming core and onto the floor beneath them. She didn’t have time to protest, however, as Sanemi dropped to his knees behind her, where she was still spread wide for him, and began to feast upon her, his teeth and lips wrapping around her clit and sucking so hard, she nearly levitated off the counter, her thighs clamping tight around his head.

Y/N could not find it within herself to feel sorry for his neighbors as she screamed his name, her throat burning with the effort as Sanemi hauled her back to her peak and sent her tumbling over it once more, this time stronger than she’d ever felt.

He did not stop; he continued to suck at her through the prolonged waves of her climax, his warm fingers coming to slide into her opening and massage his cum into her quivering walls, making her see stars as his fingertips brushed the spongy part of her innermost wall, her legs spasming around him.

A gush of fluid sprang forth from her, thoroughly coating Sanemi’s face and he groaned with satisfaction, pressing his mouth even harder against her, as though the mixture of his cum with hers was the most intoxicating elixir ever to pass his lips.

Y/N’s pleasure-delirious sobs were muffled against the counter as the aftershock of her successive orgasms wracked through her, her body quivering from the exertion. As the spasms in her cunt subsided, Sanemi finally stepped away, pressing featherlight kisses against her spine, so gentle in contrast with the delightfully brutal way he’d just reminded her that she’d never be able to run away from this – from him.

Sanemi rocked back on his heels, hands braced against the counter as he caught his breath. “Let me clean you up,” he said after a moment, his voice hoarse.

Y/N’s limbs had been reduced to liquid, so she did not complain as he scooped her up into his arms and carried her to his bathroom.

He sat her gently on the edge of his tub and moved behind her to turn the water on, holding his fingers under the steady stream until it was hot – just the way he knew she liked it.

“I don’t want to take a fucking bath here,” Y/N snapped, turning to glare at him. “Just give me a towel and be done with it.”

Sanemi recoiled slightly, and it made her chest hurt. “Was – was that okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Only in every way a person could be hurt, but not through his actions in the kitchen. She wanted nothing more than to take his face in her hands and kiss him, to assure him that, at the very least, she’d loved every second of the way he’d spread her across his counter. But the love in Y/N’s heart had turned it into a black, decaying lump, and so, her response only matched her rotten core.

“It was fine – we’re not a fucking couple,” She snatched a washcloth from his hand and shoved it under the faucet, dampening it and then moving to wipe it between her legs. “So, stop trying to act like we are.”

Sanemi stood back, his arms folding across his chest and his expression unreadable. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled after a moment. “Just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

It was the gentleness with which he spoke to her that enraged her even more, even though she knew she was being irrational. “It’s whatever,” she muttered, folding the used washcloth back up and laying it neatly over the edge of the bathtub. “I’ve gotta go.”

Sanemi nodded and left the bathroom, still naked himself, and returned with her discarded clothes and underwear. Once he’d passed them to her, he retreated back to his room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Y/N tried to ignore the guilt in her stomach when he did not emerge to say goodbye, as she opened his front door and disappeared into the mid-day sun.

—————————————————————————

All of her friends were traitors.

Not one of them was in the mood to venture out with her, not even Mitsuri, who was newly in a relationship with Obanai, the moody, awkward boy having finally plucked up the courage to confess his feelings for the bubbly pinkette.

Thus, Mitsuri no longer needed Wisteria or sticky drinks to feel high; she had love.

Y/N was happy for her – really; but she wasn’t happy to lose her reliable going-out friend.

So Y/N was on her own at the Kizuki lounge, though she didn’t really mind all that much. She’d become such a regular in that dark den of iniquity that a few other lost souls recognized her as their own and were only happy to dance with her. Unfortunately, however, Shinobu was nowhere in sight, and thus, Y/N was left utterly without the comforting lull of her friend’s Wisteria.  

As Y/N pounded back another round of shots, wincing at the burn of the green apple liquor which slid down her throat, a sultry voice spoke.

“Well, it’s rare to see such a beautiful thing like you alone in a place like this,” Y/N turned and saw a familiar yet unnerving pair of eyes – the same she’d seen a few weeks earlier at the club, the first night she’d danced with Sanemi – blinking at her.

He was familiar – she’d seen him around on campus and knew him to be relatively involved with student life. Y/N scoured her brain, trying to place a name on the white-haired man smiling at her like she was something to be devoured.  

“Douma, right?” Y/N recalled, and the man nodded, his smile widening revealing a set of too-sharp canines.

“I’m flattered you know my name,” his voice was almost flirty, if not for the sickeningly sweet edge in it that set the hair on her arms standing. “Though, I only know you as Shinobu’s friend,” he pouted.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “You know Shinobu?”

The man with the jewel-colored eyes nodded, smiling dreamily. “Shinobu and I are old friends – business partners, even. And me and her sister go way back.” Douma reached out and toyed with a loose strand of Y/N’s hair, and she fought the urge to shudder. “Tell me your name, gorgeous? I’ve seen you around, though Shinobu always barks before I ever have the chance to talk to you.”

Y/N laughed, softly. “Shinobu’s bark is always worse than her bite, I wouldn’t worry too much.”

Douma leaned in close, and his cologne was strong and sensual in a way that made Y/N’s head feel fogged. “And what about your bite? Surely, someone who hangs around with Shinobu is bound to pack a bit of a punch.”

He knew how to flatter, she’d give him that. “I’m afraid I’m all bark, Douma.” And, because she felt lonely, and because she felt a little desperate, she added, “Though I might be inclined to bite if given the right incentive.”

Douma tipped his head back and laughed, deeply, and it made Y/N’s heart flutter. “You are something, aren’t you, Y/N? I can’t believe your friends would let you wander out by yourself.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, and helped herself to the smiling man’s drink, his grin only widening as she polished off its contents. “I need no babysitter, unfortunately for them.”

“No you do not,” Douma purred. “Well, since you’re a free agent tonight, how about you come by my place? My roommate and I are throwing a huge party – I’d bet nearly half the campus is there already.”

Y/N didn’t doubt it; Douma’s parties were something of a campus legend.

“And, I believe I have something that might make it worth your while,” Douma smirked, pulling a small plastic baggie from his pocket. Within it, sat three of those coveted lilac pills, and Y/N’s mouth watered.

“I think that’s exactly the kind of incentive a girl looks for,” Y/N teased, standing with Douma to leave the Kizuki, the latter’s hand coming to rest on the small of her back. Y/N and Douma chatted animatedly as he led her to his car, and Y/N could almost ignore the unease tugging incessantly in her stomach.

She shook off the feeling. After all, if she squinted hard enough, Douma could almost pass as Sanemi.

—————————————————————————

Kyojuro answered his phone with a noncommittal grunt.

“Akaza?” He said, surprise coloring his features. Sanemi perked up at the name of the boy from their hometown but was filled with unease at the way Kyojuro’s face darkened.

“We’re on our way.” Kyojuro clicked his phone off and met Sanemi’s questioning look.

“You know that party on 52nd? We need to go — now.” Kyojuro was already rising, his wallet and keys in hand.

Sanemi didn’t question his best friend, but his phone dinged in time with Kyojuro’s, and both paled at the text image they’d received from an unknown number, sent to each person in their friend group.

It was an image of Y/N, though only half her face was visible �� but it was clear she was crying and she looked fucking terrified. Mascara streaked down her cheeks as she held her arms up protectively in front of her. But those too-thin arms could not obscure the blooded, crescent-shaped bite mark just above her breast.

Shinobuuuu your friend is lovely! The message below the image read.

A second, follow-up message dinged. Next time, fucking pay me, hm?

Kyojuro looked back in horror at his best friend but broke into a cold sweat as he beheld the murderous rage that caused his friend to tremble.

“Let’s go.” It was all the white-haired man said as the pair slammed Kyojuro’s apartment door behind them and head for his car.

—————————————————————————

“There you go, Y/N – you should be safe here until we can get you out, yeah?” The pink-haired man opened a door to a hidden closet behind the stairwell in his private room, one he knew with certainty that Douma knew nothing about. “I called you a ride already.”

Y/N sniffled, wiping at her cheeks as she brushed by the man to sit on a trunk sitting in the closet. “Thank you, Hakuji. I owe you one.”

Akaza smiled and shook his head. He’d always liked Y/N – she was always kind to him growing up, and she was one of the few people to call him by his actual name, rather than that abhorrent nickname that he couldn’t seem to shake.

“Nah, I can’t stand that fucker,” Akaza grimaced, checking behind him to ensure no one had snuck in and found them hiding. “Douma always takes things too far. I try to help when I can, but I don’t have eyes everywhere.” He frowned as he considered her. “I’m just glad I saw him bring you in.”

Y/N didn’t say anything, instead only nodding. Akaza sighed. “I’d better get back to the party. Douma’ll go snooping if he can’t find me and I really don’t want to risk him finding you again.” He began to push the door shut. “This locks from the inside. Don’t open it for anyone else – I’ll come get you when your ride is here.”

Y/N nodded. “Thanks again, Hakuji. Say hi to Koyuki for me the next time you see her.”

Akaza smiled warmly and closed the closet door, sealing Y/N safely within.

————————————————————————-

For Y/N, sitting alone in that cramped, dark closet, it felt like hours had passed since Hakuji had locked her away, out of sight from Douma’s unnerving eyes. Y/N was getting antsy, until the sound of gasps and screams from below set her stomach twisting with panic. She began to hyperventilate when she heard footsteps – two pairs, one heavier than the other – rapidly approaching the closet door as the knob began to twist.

Tears were leaking down her face, hot and fast, as a knock sounded against the door.

“Y/N!” Someone hissed. “It’s me – open the door.” It was not Akaza on the other side, but a much warmer, much more familiar voice that had her nearly sobbing with relief.

With a shaking hand, Y/N flipped the lock and the door swung open, revealing the most comforting presence she’d ever known.

Kyojuro stared at her, a mess on the floor of Hakuji’s closet, his expression unreadable. Leaning towards her, he closed a warm hand gently around her wrist and hauled her to her feet, his eyes running over her as those scanning for injury. His nostrils flared at the small dab of blood that had dried on her shirt, concealing the bruising bite mark below.

Kyojuro’s burning grip remained on her as he led her out of Hakuji’s room – the pink-haired man nodding reassuringly at her as she passed him by. Kyojuro halted at the top of the small staircase to the main floor, an eerie silence interrupted only by an occasional gasp below.

He turned back to Y/N, his face stony. “Don’t look,” he warned. “Keep your eyes forward until we get out of here, no matter what.”

A lump formed in Y/N’s throat as the pair descended the stairs, slowly. They almost made it to the front door, where Y/N could see Kyojuro’s car pulled half-onto the lawn outside, still running, when a strange wet thump snapped Y/N’s attention to the adjacent room where party attendees had been dancing only moments before.

Y/N froze as she took in the crowd, gathered, and parted around two men, hunched on the floor, as they all looked on in stunned horror.

It was Sanemi, with Douma pinned beneath his knees, as he mercilessly pounded his fist into her would-be assailant’s face.

Douma was covered in scarlet, and the swollen features of his face were nearly unrecognizable as Sanemi slammed his knuckles into him, over and over. Douma only wheezed out a laugh, apparently egging Sanemi on.

Y/N parted her mouth in horror, ready to call out for Sanemi to stop, but Kyojuro tugged her sharply through the front door and away from the grisly scene.

“Don’t,” he said, softly. “Let him get it out.”

Kyojuro hauled her to his car, pausing only to open his passenger door before gently pushing her to sit down in the worn seat. Y/N didn’t challenge him as he reached over her and buckled her seatbelt, noting the fire raging in his eyes.

Her friend rejoined her on the driver’s side and pulled roughly out of the yard of Douma’s party house, speeding off down the street. Y/N opened her mouth to speak – to say anything, when Kyojuro held up his hand as his other pulled his phone free from his pocket. He read something on the screen, before clicking it off, returning his eyes to the road.

“It’s Tengen – cops have been called.” He explained, his voice low and face hard.

Y/N swallowed thickly. “Sanemi’s going to get arrested.”

Kyojuro snorted. “If Tengen shows up first, Sanemi will be fine. The cops have been looking to bust Douma for months.” Kyojuro slowed at a stoplight and cut his eyes over to where Y/N sat, curled on his seat, looking so small and so vulnerable.

“Y/N,” his voice possessed a gentleness she didn’t deserve, and it only made her mash her lips together in an effort to keep the tears in her eyes. “Do you need to go to the hospital?”

She flinched, folding her arms tight across her chest, the spot where Douma bit her aching. Slowly, the memory of a phone camera flashing in her face, mere seconds before Hakuji had exploded into the room, cursing up a storm at Douma as he’d covered her with a blanket, blitzed out of her mind.

“The photos,” she whispered, hands covering her mouth in horror. “Oh, god –,”

Kyojuro’s hands tightened on his steering wheel, his knuckles white. “Y/N,” his voice cracked, just like her heart. “If you’d rather me call one of the girls, I will --,”

Y/N shook her head, urgently. “No, no, Kyo, he didn’t – he only bit me.”

Kyojuro’s grip on the steering wheel relaxed, though only marginally so. “Only bit you,” he repeated, shaking his head in disgust, that cold rage still pulling at his face, contorting the face she loved into something brutal, violent, and unforgiving.

He looked back at her as she trembled in his passenger seat. “What do you need, Y/N?”

Y/N fought to keep her voice steady. “Can – can you just drive, Kyo? Please?”

He nodded, and the two drove in silence for an hour, her friend randomly getting off and on the interstate as the sights of the city passed them aimlessly by.

Kyojuro abruptly pulled his car over to the side of the road, coming to a stop and slamming it into park, before turning to look at her.

“Y/N,” the sound of his voice was so strangled, so pained, that Y/N couldn’t stop the tears from falling down her face, and into her lap. “What the fuck?”

“I don’t know,” Y/N sobbed quietly into her hands. “I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know, Kyo.” Her vision was completely obscured by the saltwater that would not stop, her breath becoming panicked.

“I don’t even remember fucking it all up. All I know is I was so fucking angry with you two, and now -,” Y/N cut herself off with a hiccup.

“It’s all so fucked,” her breath was choppy as her tears increased, her hands rising to clutch at her chest. “You – you and Sanemi --,”

Kyojuro got out of his car and walked around to her side, opening the door to tug her out of the passenger seat and into his arms, crushing her against his chest.

“Y-you left me,” Y/N sobbed into the thin fabric of his tee shirt. “I needed my friend, and you left me,”

“I know,” Kyojuro’s tears dampened her hair. “I know, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“H-how could you do that, to your best friend?” She cried, clutching his shirt in her hands until her knuckles turned white. “You were my brother, Kyojuro.”

“You promised things would be okay, and then they weren’t. And you didn’t even try.” Y/N pushed away from him then, anger burning through the tears in her eyes. “Friends don’t do that; family doesn’t do that.”

Kyojuro looked as broken as she felt. “I broke every promise I made to you, I know,” he said hoarsely. “I swore I wouldn’t let you get too far away --,”

Y/N exploded.

“Get too far away?” She swore at him, hands angrily wiping the salt from her cheeks. “You abandoned me, you left me hung out to dry!”

Y/N’s hands balled to fists at her side, as she shook. “Sanemi at least arguably had an excuse. You had none. Nothing about what I did — what I said — meant I deserved that,” her eyes, angry and broken, met his own teary gaze once more. “I didn’t deserve that.”

“Y/N,” Kyojuro started, but the furious girl cut him off.

“Shut up, Kyojuro,” she snapped, and for once, the flame-haired man looked lost for words. “Do you have any idea what it was like? To watch you and him carry on as though nothing happened – as though I didn’t fucking exist?”

“And when my mom got sick? She used to feed you and your brother, you – you – selfish asshole,” Y/N was nearly hyperventilating in her ire, as twenty-two months of heartache, pain, and rage boiled out of her all at once. “And you couldn’t even check in?”

“I tried,” Kyojuro cut her off, somewhat forcefully, at her last accusation. “I tried to check in, Y/N. During the summer – I saw the ambulance leaving your house, but I couldn’t leave Senjuro by himself.”

“I came by the first thing the next morning, but no one answered. You --,” Kyojuro hesitated. “You must’ve still been at the hospital. I should’ve checked.”

Y/N laughed without humor. “Visiting doesn’t matter. You had a phone. You know how to use it, and you couldn’t send a fucking text.”

The blonde exhaled, and the tiredness on his face softened some part inside of her, made her want to hug him because deep down, she hated that Kyojuro could ever look so worn down.

“Nothing I say is going to make up for it. I know that.” He whispered. “If I could turn back time, I would, Y/N. Please believe me when I say I would.”

Kyojuro dragged a tired hand down his face, smearing the tears across his cheeks as he did so, and he looked toward his old friend, brokenly. “But I’m here now,” He said, pleadingly. “I’m sorry if that’s still not enough; I understand if it isn’t. But please, let me be here for you, now. Even if that means you hate me.”

Y/N did not expect to break so suddenly, but the sight of Kyojuro openly weeping before her, combined with the bruising sincerity of his words, whittled away all of the hardness she’d built up and struck her right in her heart.

“Oh Kyo,” Y/N shuddered a sob, her shoulders shaking under the weight of her tears as Kyojuro stepped forward once more and enveloped her in his arms. “I could never hate you,”

For the first time in nearly two years, Y/N returned Kyojuro’s hug with the same ferocity she once had, and part of her hoped, oh so timidly, that the force with which he embraced her would slowly work to put her back together again – to make her whole.

The two almost siblings melted into one another, each one muttering a litany of I’m sorrys, and I love you‘s. For a long while, the pair stood there, on the side of the road, swaddled in the other’s embrace as they sobbed together, for both the children they once were, and the adults the world had forced them to become.

Eventually, the pair found themselves back in Kyojuro’s car, still driving with no real destination in mind; only this time, the two blasted music from their high school days and loudly sang off-key together, laughing carefree as their broken hearts mended, song by song. They drove until Y/N yawned, and Kyojuro sternly, but teasingly, noted it was well past her bedtime.

“You scare the shit out of him, you know,” Kyojuro said after a long while, eyes still fixed resolutely on the road leading to Y/N’s apartment.

Y/N, who’d been watching the blur of stars in the night sky as they sped down the highway, rolled her head toward him to look at him, her face skeptical. “Sanemi? Sanemi Shinazugawa, scared of me?” She scoffed, turning her attention back to the night sky as it whizzed past her window.

Kyojuro reached for her hand, and Y/N could have cried at how warm and comforting it felt. “He thinks he’s lost you for good. He does regret how things went down, you know; he did from the get-go.”

“I think he’s afraid he’s going to wake up one day and find you’ll just be gone entirely. Completely unreachable.”

Y/N stretched her fingers to play with the series of necklaces Kyojuro had dangling from his rearview mirror, admiring the way they twinkled under the passing streetlights. “He would have to care to be afraid, Kyo, and you and I both know that he doesn’t care about me.” She chewed on her lip. “Not in that way.”

Kyojuro finally pulled to a stop in front of her apartment. He took his time putting his car in park and shutting it off, before turning back to her, his face solemn. “If you can’t see how crazy he is about you, then I don’t know what else I can say.”

The fire in his stare was scorching, and Y/N fidgeted under the intensity of both his gaze and his words. “He barely knows me, Kyo. He doesn’t know what he wants.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Kyojuro said, though not too harshly. “You might want to believe you’re a different person now, but you’re still you. I promise you, you’re still the Y/N we both know – and love.”

Y/N’s tear fell down her cheeks anew, as she’d not realized how badly she needed to hear that she was still herself – that she wasn’t just a shell of the person she once was, never fully present and never fully worth giving a damn about.

“I think you want to believe he doesn’t care because it makes it easier on you to pretend like you’re just using him.” Kyojuro’s words cut through her like a knife.

Y/N winced and opened her mouth to respond, but Kyojuro raised a hand, silencing her.

“I’m not saying you mean to,” Kyojuro’s words stung, but they were earnest. “And I don’t necessarily think you are – but I think you’re running from him, because you are frightened.”

“What would you have me do, Kyo?” Y/N asked, slightly exasperated as her head thudded back against the worn fabric of his car seat.

“Are you still in love with him?” Kyojuro asked, and it took great effort for Y/N not to roll her eyes at him. “Then you must let him in, Y/N. He wants your love – very much so – of that, I’m certain.”

“He has always wanted my love,” Y/N snorted. “He’s like a jealous, possessive dragon that way. The problem is with him returning it.”

Kyojuro sighed, before getting out of his car and rounding to her side, opening her door for her. “As I said before,” he reached a warm hand to muss her hair as she stood, stretching her stiff limbs from the hours they’d spent driving around the city. “If you can’t see how crazy Sanemi is about you, then I can’t help you.”

Kyojuro’s lips pressed against her forehead, warm and steady, and it felt like home. “Give him a chance, Y/N. Let him into your heart, and he will gladly give you his.”

—————————————————————————

After ensuring Y/N was safely inside her apartment, Kyojuro continued to drive for another hour.

The emotions of the night weighed too heavily on his shoulders, and Kyojuro knew going back to his apartment would end in nothing but him tossing for hours in bed, replaying the last conversation with Y/N in his head, over and over.

—————————————————————————

 One year earlier

“Where’s your date, Shinazugawa?” Kyojuro chuckled, reaching for a beer. He was disheartened to see that only one was left, Sanemi having finished at least three since arriving at his place.

“Called off,” Sanemi said thickly, his words slightly garbled as he tried to fake his own sobriety – the surest sign he was already drunk off his ass.

Kyojuro clapped his shoulder sympathetically. “You or her?”

Sanemi took another swig of his drink. “Me.” He looked up at his best friend and Kyojuro was shocked to see how forlorn and sad the hothead looked. “None of ‘em are her.”

It was rare that Sanemi brought her up, especially in the wake of everything that had happened after Genya’s death. But Kyojuro hadn’t been foolish enough to think that a substantial part of the chip on Sanemi’s shoulder hadn’t stemmed from his complicated feelings about her – Y/N.

Their best friend, at least, once upon a time.

Though as Kyojuro supposed, it wasn’t as if Sanemi’s feelings about their friend were really all that complicated. He’d known the abrasive loudmouth had longed for the trio’s only girl since any of them had understood what it meant to long for someone.

Kyojuro had seen his friend’s feelings on display countless times since they were teenagers. He saw it in the way Sanemi’s eyes softened every time she smiled at him, or the way Sanemi seemed to always lean into her touch whenever she brushed something from his hair.

Then, there had been that time after Y/N had her braces put in – they’d been around thirteen or so – and she’d refused to smile with her teeth, until Sanemi had snapped at her and said she’d looked constipated.

Y/N’s eyes had filled with tears, and her cheeks had burned with her embarrassment until he’d squatted down in front of her.

“Why’d’ya wanna hide your smile anyways – it’s too pretty.” He’d said, very matter-of-factly, leaning in close to her face as he always did when he teased her. “C’mon, show me! I wanna see your smile!”

Shyly, Y/N had smiled at him, braces and all, and Sanemi had grinned back, nodding in satisfaction. “See? What’d I tell ya? Pretty as a picture.”

Then, there had been their senior prom, when Sanemi had gotten wind of another boy’s plan to ask her to be his date. Though the big dance had still more than six months away, Sanemi had stormed into the cafeteria, plopped down from her as she ate with the Koyuki girl, and demanded she attend with him.

When the night of their prom arrived, Kyojuro thought Sanemi was going to pass out the moment he saw Y/N descend the stars at her mother’s house, dressed in that floor-length emerald dress. Throughout the whole night, Sanemi had treated their best friend as though she were made of glass, his hands for once hesitant and uncertain as he’d found her waist during a slow dance. Kyojuro had truly thought his friends would finally, finally kiss and admit their poorly concealed feelings for one another. But Sanemi had returned Y/N to her mother, the latter only parting with a soft kiss against the flustered boy’s cheek before disappearing inside.

How could they have known that night, just how far they’d all fall? How could they know how Genya’s death would shatter more than his brother, but indelibly fracture their life-long bond and transform them into total strangers?

————————————————————————

 Ten months earlier

Kyojuro didn’t mind working for the enrollment center at Ubaya-U.

Sure, the work was a little tedious, if not monotonous, especially at the start of a new semester, but at least that meant his shift passed him by quickly.

That particular day, Kyojuro had been tasked with finalizing the class registers for his year – the juniors – as the add/drop period had finally passed, and thus, schedules were to be finalized for the semester.

He’d spent hours tabbing through page after page of student schedules, entering data and clicking the small arrow at the bottom of his screen to move onto the next student ID number, over and over, until the figures on his computer blurred together. But Kyojuro had finally entered the schedule for the last student, and he was eager to hit “ENTER,” and get the fuck home.

His back aching and wrist cramping, Kyojuro hit the command key that promised release.

ERROR. The screen read. ONE OR MORE ENTRIES MISSING.

“Fuck,” Kyojuro muttered, and he hit the “ENTER” key once more, in hopes that the system had merely hiccupped after having been in use for so long.

The same ERROR message flashed across his screen once more.

Kyojuro exhaled, pinching his nose as his eyes screwed shut in frustration, the beginnings of a headache creeping in around his temples. Shoving himself away from his desk, Kyojuro stood and stalked over to his supervisor, who was just as numbly tabbing through a spreadsheet.

“Murata,” Kyojuro said, trying to keep his growing anger in check. It was a Friday night and he just wanted to go home and do stupid college things, dammit.

The tired shift supervisor grunted in answer, turning in his swivel seat towards the fuming college junior.

“I entered all of the student schedules, but the system is flagging some sort of error.” Kyojuro produced a printed-out spreadsheet of every student ID number and handed it to his manager, who took note of the neat, precise little checkmarks next to every line that signaled Kyojuro had finalized the correlating schedule. “Can you take a look?”

“Sure thing,” even though Kyojuro often thought Murata was, at times, a little inept at his own job, he couldn’t deny the college senior was helpful. Murata pulled up the school’s informatics system and entered his log-in, clicking through various prompts until his screen resembled Kyo’s.

Murata tried to submit the same data that Kyojuro had tried, and the same error message dinged on his screen.

“Huh, that’s odd,” the manager said, unhelpfully. “Let me see if I can use my admin key and find out if there’s anyone you missed.”

Kyojuro resisted the urge to point at his spreadsheet once more; Kyojuro, simply put, never missed an entry when it came to plugging in numbers and codes for work. The same could not be said for Murata.

“Ah, there it is,” to Kyojuro’s surprise, a student profile popped up on Murata’s screen in red, though his supervisor’s head blocked the name. “Number ending in 0851. Let me just –” Murata clicked around the screen and quickly tabbed in a couple of course codes, and hit enter, but the screen erred once more.

“What the – ohhh, I know this number,” Murata said, sitting back in his seat. “Yeah. Okay. You need my code to bypass this one. She got special permission from the university to not finalize her schedule until next week.”

Kyojuro sighed. At least the error hadn’t been on his end.

“Got a pen? You’ll need her name to enter it once the screen prompts you. In the explanation box, just type “special permission/family emergency.”

Kyojuro shook his head. “I’ll remember it. What’s the name?”

“Y/L/N. Y/N.” Murata answered flippantly, though Kyojuro’s stomach lurched. “Yeah, I got an email about her a few weeks ago because she hadn’t returned to campus. The Dean said her mom was in the hospital, and she was the sole caretaker, so her professors all agreed to let her attend online until things mellowed out.”

“Never seen that happen before, she must be one helluva student,” Murata commented as he turned back to Kyojuro. “Hey, in the entry box, put her date of return – I think I remember the email saying it was sometime next month, but let me check.” The supervisor turned back to his screen, blissfully unaware of Kyojuro’s wide eyes or his pounding heart.

“There it is – hm, there’s an update,” Murata remarked, though more to himself than to the pale Junior standing behind him. “Oh my, that’s a shame. Looks like her mom passed away last week, so she’s returning after the funeral, which was --,” Murata squinted. “Yesterday.”

“Yup, seems like she’s due back next week instead. Just put down Monday’s date.” Murata turned back to Kyojuro with a kind smile, but it quickly slipped when he saw the sweat that had broken out across the burly blonde’s forehead and noted the way he shook.

“Rengoku, you good, man?” Murata asked worriedly, though Kyojuro barely heard him over the roaring in his head and the sound of his heart-shattering.

“Y-yeah,” Kyojuro’s voice cracked. “Murata, would you mind entering that information for me? I feel like I’m going to be sick.” Kyojuro did not wait for his supervisor’s answer as he grabbed his backpack and stumbled out of the Student Affairs office, as he fought to keep down the bile that rose in his throat.

Kyojuro did not remember the walk back to his apartment; he remembered only the rush of grief, and crushing sadness, as he recalled the kind woman who’d shown him such love and affection after his own mother died, that he’d thought of her as a second mother.

He thought of Y/N – oh god, Y/N, who now lived in a world in which she had no family left. No home to go back to.

Alone.

He hadn’t known; Sanemi hadn’t known.

Kyojuro stumbled through the front door of his apartment, vaguely noting that Sanemi had already let himself in, and helped himself to whatever was in Kyojuro’s well-stocked refrigerator.

“Man, I’ve had a fuckin day,” Sanemi’s gravelly voice rang over the muted sounds of his television as he chowed down on a helping of sweet potatoes Kyojuro had meal prepped a few days earlier.

“Sanemi,” Kyojuro tried weakly, though Sanemi seemed not to hear him over his own, loud complaining.

“-and four papers, and we’re barely a month into school. I can’t wait to fuckin’ graduate and get the hell out of this place --,”

“Sanemi,” Kyojuro said again, more forcefully that time, cutting his friend’s impassioned rambling off. At the serious, monotonous tone in his best friend’s voice, Sanemi fell silent. “It’s Y/N, she – h-her…”

Kyojuro’s voice wobbled. Sanemi dropped his fork into the plastic container that contained Kyojuro’s food and stared at him, eyes wide, as he sucked his breath through his teeth. Whatever news his friend had to deliver, it would not be good.

“Is – is Y/N okay?” Sanemi asked tentatively, his voice shaking slightly. He felt the color drain from his cheeks as Kyojuro slowly shook his head. As childish as it seemed, Kyojuro wanted to run, because if he did not speak those awful words, then perhaps they would not be real.

“It’s Mrs. Y/L/N – she…she died. Last week. The funeral was yesterday.”

————————————————————————-

Nine months earlier

Sanemi barged into his apartment without knocking, nearly toppling over the coatrack Kyojuro kept in the entryway.

“Shinazugawa,” he’d started to chastise, but fell silent at the look on his best friend’s face, a strange mixture of nausea and despair etched into his features.

“I saw her, Kyo,” Sanemi croaked, pale and shaking as he ripped open Kyojuro’s fridge and grabbed a beer, not bothering to ask as he wrenched the bottle cap off and took a healthy swig.

“Y/N?” Kyojuro’s eyebrows furrowed, as he followed his friend into his sparsely decorated living room, Sanemi shakily sitting on the small sofa, head braced between his hands.

“Did you talk to her? How was she?” Kyojuro pressed, but Sanemi refused to lift his head to meet his eyes.

“I saw her,” Sanemi repeated, his voice trembling almost as badly as his hands. “And I didn’t know it was her.”

Kyojuro shook his head in confusion. “I don’t know what you mean -,”

“I didn’t recognize her, Kyojuro. Not at first,” Sanemi finally looked up and Kyojuro’s stomach twisted at the tears pooling in his friend’s eyes. “How could I not recognize our best friend?”

Kyojuro threw an arm around Sanemi’s shoulders. “It’s been a while,” he said, gruffly, “It’s just been a while since we saw her –.”

“You don’t get it,” Sanemi said, wide-eyed and haunted. “Y/N looks different – she’s so fucking thin, Kyojuro, that I couldn’t recognize her.”

————————————————————————

One month earlier

“So you – you and Y/N,” Kyojuro began, and Sanemi nodded, dragging a hand over his face.

“I am never touching that Wisteria shit again,” the lavender-eyed man vowed, darkly. “I fucking lost control.”

Kyojuro frowned, his stomach shifting uncomfortably. “What do you mean?”

Sanemi flung himself back against the cushion of his sofa, arm draped over his eyes in an attempt to stifle the tears that gathered there. “I fuckin’ hurt her, man.”

The blonde sighed, settling back against the sofa with his friend, thumbs twiddling with a loose string on his shirt. “You didn’t mean to, you know. Sometimes that just – it just happens.”

Trust Sanemi to be this dramatic being Y/N’s first – the man had practically screamed into the phone at him when he’d discovered the small speckle of blood on his sheets and realized that Y/N was nowhere to be found.

Though, Kyojuro never imagined Sanemi would be this frantic about the ordeal.  

Sanemi lowered his arm to stare at his best friend, bewildered. “It doesn’t fucking matter,” he ran an anxious hand through his hair. “I can’t fucking trust myself on that shit, and I’ll be damned if I hurt her again.”

“I’m done with it all, Kyojuro,” Sanemi swore once more. “For her, I’m fuckin’ done with it.”

————————————————————————-

Two weeks earlier

Kyojuro jogged to where his friend stood, smoking a cigarette as his eyes scanned over the various food trucks that had gathered on the street near his apartment, considering the wide variety of choices.

“You’re the only person I know who could make that look somewhat appealing,” Kyojuro grumbled as Sanemi took another drag, grinning. Sanemi had quit both alcohol and Wisteria cold turkey but had become such an irritable bitch as he went through withdrawal that Kyojuro had practically begged him to find something to help him take the edge off.

So, Sanemi had traded one vice for another and had taken to smoking, though he could tell his friend hated it. Sanemi hoped that his shakes would soon subside, and he could kick the nasty habit before it became another problem for him to deal with.

“What are you in the mood for?” Sanemi asked as the pair began to leisurely stroll around the crowded plaza. “And don’t say sweet potatoes – we’ve been eating healthy all goddamn week; I need something greasy.”

Kyojuro chuckled. “I’m quite in the mood for a burger if you’re up for it.” He offered and Sanemi nodded in agreement. The pair joined the relatively lengthy queue outside a food truck grill, the scent of charcoal and meat promising to feed their empty bellies.

The pair made small talk as they waited, Sanemi nearly finishing his cigarette in the time it took them to reach the front of the line. Just before they were set to order, Sanemi’s phone dinged in his pocket, and the white-haired man pulled it free, puffing on the last of his cigarette as he did so.

“Ah, shit,” Sanemi sighed, though he did not look particularly crestfallen as he glanced back to his friend. “Sorry, man – duty calls.”

Kyojuro scoffed at his choice of words. “Duty,” he shook his head. “You mean Y/N?”

“You’d feel that way too if you slept around –”

“Yeah, but it’s not just ‘sleeping around’ to you, is it?” Kyojuro asked pointedly, and Sanemi fell silent. “You don’t sleep with anyone else. Does she?”

His friend shook his head. “Nah, we made an agreement – we’re – well, we don’t use condoms,” at the horrified look on Kyojuro’s face, Sanemi blushed. “She’s on birth control! ‘Sides,” Sanemi swallowed, awkwardly. “With all the weight she’s lost, and all the shit she’s been taking, I don’t think it’s likely she could – well, get pregnant.”

Kyojuro pinched his brow between his fingers. “Pregnancy isn’t the only reason to use condoms, you dolt,”

Sanemi harrumphed at him. “Look, I used protection with the other two girls, and I got tested not long after,” Sanemi quickly drew his cigarette back to his mouth, a sure sign of his growing discomfort with the conversation. “And, as Mitsuri so tactfully pointed out, I was her first, so I know she’s clean.”

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” Sanemi snapped at the reproachful look in his friend’s owlish gaze. “It feels better, y’know.”

Kyojuro only shook his head. “Why are you doing this to yourself, Sanemi?”

Sanemi looked away from him, shifting awkwardly back and forth on his feet. “You know why, man,” he said quietly, and Kyojuro’s heart clenched.

“Look, I love and worry after Y/N too, but she’s using you --,”

“So what if she is?” Sanemi croaked, taking a harsh drag of his cigarette. “She can use me as much as she wants. I don’t mind.”

Kyojuro’s eyes softened. “Sanemi –”

“At least it means I can keep an eye on her.” Sanemi flicked the dying butt to the ground, crushing it beneath the toe of his boot as he sauntered away, holding his hand up over his shoulder in farewell as he set off back across the lively street.

—————————————————————————

(Y/N’s POV)

Y/N dragged herself up the stairs of the apartment she shared with Mitsuri and Shinobu, a tiredness she’d not felt in a long while settling into her weary bones. Her head ached from the strain of the evening, and she knew her eyes were likely red and puffy from the hours of her crying.

Shakily, she slid her key through the lock and opened her front door, quietly relieved at the darkened silence of her apartment, which meant both of her roommates were out.

Closing the door behind her, Y/N slid to the floor in the entryway, and did not move; for a long while, she stared blankly at the dark kitchen before her, her mind replaying her conversation with Kyojuro on a loop, though the mark on her breast, with its pulsing ache, demanded her attention.

With a sigh, Y/N heaved herself up off the kitchen floor and shuffled her way to her room, silently thanking her luck that she’d managed to pull the bedroom with the in-suite bathroom, which meant she could curl up on the floor of her shower for as long as she wanted, without the fear of either of her friends needing the toilet.

Once she’d stripped herself of the evening’s outfit, Y/N inspected the wound on her chest.

It felt worse than it looked. There was a small bit of dried blood around where Douma’s teeth had broken her skin, and the mouth-shaped mark was angry, red, and already a little purple, but from her cursory examination of it, it seemed like the wound was likely to only bruise, and not scar.

It was the unseen wound that concerned her more; the scar that was assuredly left on her heart.

She’d fucked up – badly.

Granted, she knew it wasn’t her fault that Douma had decided to try and do whatever it was he wanted to do with her – she wasn’t going to blame herself for that.

What was her fault was how badly she’d let things spiral out of control; how badly her use of the Wisteria had become. She wasn’t a medical student by any means, but she knew the tell-tale signs of an abuse problem. Y/N would not venture to say she was addicted, but she feared she was well on her way to that path – unless she did something about it right then.

She braced her hands against the cool porcelain of her sink and looked at her reflection, jolting slightly at the face that stared back at her.

She still looked like herself, granted, but there was an unfamiliar hollowness in her cheeks, a vacancy in her slightly over-large eyes that made her uncomfortable. She stretched and winced at the ease with which she could just make out the number of ribs laying beneath her skin.  

Sanemi had been right – she’d let things go too far.

As she yanked on the shower nozzle to summon the water to chase away Douma’s sickening touch from her skin, Y/N resolved, right there, that she was done with Wisteria. She thought she should be done with alcohol as well, but she feared the symptoms of withdrawal – especially with how great her dependency on the two substances had grown over the last few months.

So, Y/N decided that she would never again allow those toxic little purple pills pass her lips, and slowly – but surely – wean herself off alcohol. She would not go back to the Kizuki, would not let herself give in to the temptations which flashed underneath the colorful strobe lights of the dance floor.

Her life, it appeared, depended upon it.

[rueclfer]

Reverse comfort reader taking care of Touya plsplsplsplspls 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

I just had the amazing thought of it he's being overly cocky during winter "I don't need a scarf I have a fire quirk!" And the next days he's curled in bed with a fever and sore throat and there's a ton of I told you so's

Not even a fic if u don't feel like it maybe a smau but I think it'd be super funny 😭

🫐 Anon

sick touya supreme bc he can just lay there, be cute n not speak <3

sweat it out // touya todoroki

"What the hell are you wearing?" You exclaim after opening your front door.

"What?" He looks down at his attire. "What happened to hi, hello? A 'thank you for bringing me my package that I stupidly got delivered to your apartment?' Why don't we start there?" He huffs, stepping into your apartment, setting your package down on your kitchen counter.

It had been nothing but near freezing temperatures for the past few weeks- so cold that you had to layer up inside your own apartment to prevent your electric bill from skyrocketing.

"Hi hello, my sweet boyfriend." You roll your eyes. "Do you seriously need me to mommy you right now and scold you for not wearing a fucking jacket out in this weather? Are we not grown adults?" You drops the blanket draped over your shoulders and go over to rub his arms for the thermal friction. "Like you're seriously just wearing this long sleeve? It's freezing if you haven't noticed."

He raises his hand up to your face and snaps a flame into place in between his index and thumb. "You forget I run warm."

"Yeah okay, Mister. I-have-a-fire-quirk. How is that going to help you if it starts raining?"

He pulls you into his chest, letting his body heat transfer into your own, instantly warming you and most importantly for him, shutting you up.

You release a deep exhale in content. "Idiot. You just should stay. For the Winter. Just live here with me for a few months and never leave." You rub your face into his chest, savoring the warmth.

"I think we'd end up killing each other before Spring comes." He chuckles into your hair.

"I'll just chain you to the bed and duct tape your mouth close." You smirk up at him. "Everyone's happy."

"Don't threaten me with a good time, sweetheart." He pulls back, reaching out to tousle your hair. "But I gotta run. Told Shigs I'd be quick."

"Wait! Let me find you a sweater and an umbrella." You frantically look around your living room for any piece of clothing that you had previously stolen from him.

"No need." He bends down and quickly press his lips against yours, letting them linger for a few seconds before pulling away. "I have to go. I checked earlier and it's not going to rain and I'm not cold either. You on the other hand, worry about staying warm."

"It definitely is going to rain, Touya. I can smell it." You huff. "You'll get sick."

"What, is that a new quirk development or something? Weirdo." He lightly pinches your cheeks before slipping his shoes back on. "Also, I have a strong immune system."

"Seriously, let me find you an umbrella at the very least." You rummage around the coat rack for something that could fit him or a spare umbrella.

"Nope, no time. See you tomorrow, yeah?" He calls out.

"I guess." You mutter in defeat as you watch him slip out your door.

"Idiot." You sigh under your breath once the door clicks close.

-

"I'm here!" You call out after stepping into Touya's apartment, using the spare he lent you after locking himself out multiple times.

You kick off your shoes and shed off some layers, draping your jacket, and scarf over his couch before making your way to his bedroom.

"Knock knock." You say as you gently crack the door open, revealing near pitch darkness with sliver of natural light peeking in from the blinds.

You make your way over to the dark lump of mass of blankets on the bed, kicking aside used tissue paper that were thrown onto the ground before kneeling down next to the bed.

"Hello, my sweet stupid boy." You coo, slowly stroking the tuft of dark hair peeking out from the comforter.

"Don't be mean to me." The nasally voice muffled from under the covers. "Princess treatment today, got it?"

Touya finally pokes his head out from under the covers. It may have been dark, but you could still make out his puffy bloodshot eyes, dry cracked lips and flushed cheeks.

"I'll say it this one time then and then I'll give you the best princess treatment, okay?" You lean in close, letting your lips lightly graze the shell of his ear. "I fucking told you so." You whisper.

He groans, retreating back under the covers.

"Did you hear me? Okay maybe one more time." You giggle, trying to rip the covers off from over his head. "I told you so. It rained and it rained hard. Not ideal for that fire quirk of yours, huh? I fucking told you so."

"Fuck off." He groans once more. "One more time and I'm kicking your ass out."

"As if." You successfully tug the covers down to his chin, placing the back of your hand on his forehead. "You don't even have to energy to, you poor thing."

"Am I gonna make it?" He gazes up at you with his tired bloodshot eyes.

"Looks like you got a fever." You push away the sweaty stray hairs sticking to his forehead. "But I think you'll survive."

"Damn." He wheeze out. "That's unfortunate."

"It is, but maybe next time you don't listen to me, you'll get lucky and it kills you."

"Let's hope for it, then." He smirks, bringing his hand up to rub his eyes. "Can I have a kiss?"

"Nope. I'm not trying to get sick, Touya." You smile at the neediness in his voice.

You move over to the blinds and slightly twist them open, letting in some of the dim daylight before tossing the haphazardly thrown stray tissues into the trash bin nearby.

"I don't give a fuck. I want a kiss."

"Too bad." You pay no mind to his piercing stare as you wander around his room, tidying the space as well as clearing off an area on his desk to set up the cough syrups and fever reducers that you brought over from your own medicine cabinet.

You come over to him with the stray glass on water sitting on his desk and a couple Tylenols in your palm.

"Sit up." You order, kneeling next to his bed again, holding out your palm.

"Pop a perc then I black out..." Touya mumbles to himself as he sits up, grabbing the pills from your palm and popping them in his mouth, following it with a large gulp of water.

In this moment, you couldn't help but notice how precious he looked with his old flannel pajama pants, dingy stretched out band tee, disheveled hair and tired eyes- a spitting image of his everyday look when you two were teenagers.

"...Fuckin' I'm blowing her back out." He continues, leaning over to press a kiss on your forehead. "Don't look at me like that unless you're trying to help me sweat out this fever."

Your own face heats up. "The fuck were you saying earlier?" You chuckle, brushing off the insinuating comment and setting the empty glass on his nightstand.

"I don't know. Nothing." He coughs, laying back down, pulling the covers up to his chin. "I think the fever dream-hallucination is hitting hard. You should get in and cuddle before the sickness takes over and kills me."

You roll your eyes at the dramatics, nudging him to scoot over before climbing in under the covers with him, which felt like you had just stepped into a furnace.

He groans in content, wrapping his arms around your body and pulling you in as close as he could.

"Can't cuddle for too long okay? I'm going to have to leave and make you some food soon." You mutter into his chest, letting your hand run up and down his back.

"No." He whines. "Just stay like this and I'll get better. I promise."

"That's not how that works." You mutter.

"Maybe if you give me a kiss instead? I think that'll 100 percent make me feel better." He pulls away, inching down towards you with puckered lips.

You stuck your hand out against his mouth, pushing it away. "I can't get sick, Touya. I know your ass will not know how to take care of me."

"You love hurting my feelings." He huffs.

"Well? Who put themselves in this situation. I told you, didn't I?"

"Shush." He mumbles, letting himself close his eyes and rest his chin on top of your head. "You didn't tell me shit."

You let out a sigh and let yourself close your eyes for a moment as well, letting your deep inhale and exhales sync in unison. Maybe having this every night wouldn't be too bad. Sure you two would tear each other apart if you had to spend every waking moment together in the same home, but for moments like these, you wouldn't mind it. Your eyes pop open the moment you feel the deep vibrations of his snores again your body, now realizing that you couldn't dare move from this position, risking waking him.

Just an hour. You'll only give yourself an hour.

-

touya tag: @moonchild701

[zepskies]

Hey could I please request headcanons for how Dean would react to reader texting him "she's busy" as a joke, yk kind of like

Dean: Hey baby

Reader: She's busy

I really hope this makes sense and isn't so confusing 😭😭

Ooh I think I know what you mean. 😏

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F. Reader Word Count: 850

Imagine: Texting Dean when he's on a hunt.

Once again, Dean sighed while he waited on his brother.

They were stopped at a 7-Eleven gas station after a hunt, but Dean had long ago filled up Baby's tank. Sam was inside, grabbing a few snacks for the road tomorrow. Supposedly.

Dean fished out his phone from his pocket and texted him.

Hey, Driving Miss Daisy. You good in there?

A couple of minutes later, Sam responded.

Yeah, just getting a few things.

Dean rolled his eyes. Right.

For half an hour? What, you taking a shit or something?

Sam's response was testy, just as Dean predicted.

Dean, give me a minute. Jesus.

Dean sighed, with a roll of his eyes. He scrolled back into his texts and found your name. He was a couple of states over from Lebanon, but still within the same timezone. You should still be awake back at the bunker.

He decided he wanted to hear your voice, let you know that he and Sam were going to catch one more night of rest here at the motel before they made the long drive back home.

But...you didn't answer when he called.

Weird. You were typically a night owl, either watching something or plugging away at your laptop. He tried texting you instead.

Hey, baby. You up?

He eventually saw the three gray dots pop up. You were typing...

She's busy.

Dean frowned. What the hell?

Had you invited someone over? Like Jody or Donna?

But neither of them would've replied like that...so he texted back.

Stop messing around.

Dean tried calling you again, but it went directly to voicemail this time. In came another text from "you."

She'll call you back, dude.

Dean's jaw ticked with annoyance. And despite himself, unease began to creep in and churn his stomach.

What the fuck is this?

She's in the shower. I'll tell her to call you back, no worries.

All right. WHO is this?

Ooh, are you the boyfriend? Yikes lol.

A deep, slow breath made it through Dean's nose. He closed his eyes, counted to ten, reminded himself that he did, in fact, love you.

Then he responded.

Babe, if you don't call me in the next 30 seconds, there's gonna be hell to pay when I get home.

Dean checked his watch and actually counted. About ten seconds passed before his phone rang with an incoming call...from you. He answered.

"Promise?" came your teasing voice. When it ended on a giggle, Dean rolled his eyes and rested his head back on the seat. He blew out a frustrated breath.

"Oh, trust and believe. You're gonna fuckin' get it this time," he said, though his lips curved on a reluctant smirk. You full on laughed at him then.

"You make it too easy," you replied.

He knew this. It wasn't the first time you'd teased him, and he knew it wouldn't be the last.

Still, he couldn't help being a bit irritated this time.

"You know, how would you like it if I did that to you?" he asked. "Wouldn't be so fucking funny then, would it?"

"...Okay. You're right. I'm sorry, baby," came your more contrite voice. But he could still hear your smile. Could imagine the way you might soothe a hand along his arm, if you were here.

"How about I make it up to you?" you offered.

That worked a slow smirk onto his face. "Yeah? What did you have in mind?"

For the next few minutes, you purred into his ear about all the things you'd been thinking of while he was gone. Daydreaming about the talents of his hands, lips, and tongue.

In particular, you reminded him about a certain birthday wish that he still hadn't claimed from a couple weeks ago, when he and Sam got wind of this hunt.

Two weeks really was too damn long, in your opinion. (He agreed with you.)

Now with a half-straining bulge in his jeans, Dean licked his lips and tightened his hand on the leather wheel of the car.

"All right. Sounds like a plan to me, sweetheart," he said, deceptively breezy. As if you'd just told him you planned to make tacos for dinner.

"When are you getting home?" you asked.

He heard the tone of your voice, like black silk. It sent a tendril of heat down his spine, raising the hairs on his forearms.

"Tonight," Dean said. Deeper, a note of gravel in his words. "I'll see you tonight."

"Good." Once again, he heard the smile in your voice. "I love you."

He sighed, and raised a hand to card through his hair.

"Love you too...even though you play too fucking much," he muttered the latter bit.

Your laughter once again reached his ears, reluctantly making him smile.

He hung up with you just before Sam finally opened the passenger seat door and climbed in with two hefty grocery bags. Did he do a whole damn shopping spree in there?

...Whatever. Dean shook his head and started the car.

"Change of plan," he said. "We're heading home."

"What? Thought we were gonna catch a few hours of sleep. It's a long drive, Dean," Sam said, earning his brother's gaze.

"Yeah, well, you'll live," Dean snarked. A more devious grin spread across his face. "I've got a date."

And she's about to get punished.

The Impala's tires screeched as Dean pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main road.

AN: Ha! This one was fun. 😘 Thanks for the prompt!

Dean Winchester Imagines

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Dean W. Tag List:

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

[binniesbooks]

• DO FRIENDS KNOW HOW YOU TASTE?

YJ 999 .F25 2024

wc 3.8k

pairings bff!Yeonjun x cheater!reader (little bit of bf!Soobin x reader)

warnings explicit cheating, slight choking, oral sex (m receiving), unprotected sex, public fingering, creampie (+ if I forgot anything)

faye's note This is a product of my very own extreme Yeonjun brain rot as a Soobrangdan! Help! I kept on saying I'd cheat on Soobin with Yeonjun, BUT FOR FUCK'S SAKE, DO NOT DARE CHEAT IF YOU'RE IN A RELATIONSHIP. WE DO NOT TOLERATE CHEATING! 🚫 PLUS IF YOU HAVE FRIENDS , DO NOT GO OVERBOARD, UNLESS YOU TWO ARE DATING, GOODNESS! that's all, thank you cheaters 😂 (it's supposed to be a joke, cheater!reader 😭)

You and Soobin started dating not too long ago. You two met at the library, he had helped you out, reaching for a book that was too high for your reach. You two instantly clicked. After hanging out with him from time to time, you realized you had started to catch feelings.

On study days, you would be with him at the library. Coffee dates, picnics. You know the common ways of falling in love.

You love Soobin. You really do. He knows it. Everyone around you knows it. Even your friend -- Yeonjun.

Yeonjun has been your friend since high school. You met him way before meeting Soobin, obviously. And of course, Yeonjun was not an ordinary friend. He liked being close to you. He liked holding you. Sometimes you choose not to be with them at the same time because Yeonjun would practically hog you to himself.

But Soobin never said a thing. He keeps in mind, that you knew Yeonjun better than him. You met Yeonjun way before you dated him. He also promised himself not to get in your way. He didn't want to hurt the girl he loved most. That's how much Soobin loves you. Pure. Innocent. Modest.

He never allowed anything to develop between the two of you beyond a bit of physical contact. He preferred to handle things on his own rather than do anything he thought you might disapprove of. He was satisfied with just a kiss on the forehead or even a kiss on the cheek. Sometimes he would give kisses on the hand, but rarely on your lips. A few hugs would suffice.

He believes that you are still too innocent to take your relationship to the next level.

But of course, Soobin couldn't stay silent throughout his life. He felt the need to speak up too. "Y/n," Soobin holds your hand, brushing his thumb on top of your hand. "I know Yeonjun holds a special space in your heart." He was staring at you, eyes full of guilt and sadness. "But I'm feeling a little bit jealous. I'm sorry, I can't help it," Soobin confessed when the three of you were at a cafe.

Yeonjun was the one ordering. And that gave Soobin the chance to tell you what he felt."I'm sorry, Binnie. Don't get me wrong, okay? He's just a dear friend of mine. I have no one else besides you and him." Soobin leans into your hand as you cup his face, sighing as he closes his eyes.

However, the silence between you two broke when Yeonjun cleared his throat. He placed the tray on the table as he flopped down beside you, casually draping his arm around your shoulder.

Soobin averted his gaze. Quietly reaching for his drink. Sometimes he thinks he's not your boyfriend anymore, despite telling himself not to say a thing about this issue.

"Soobin, have you already reviewed for our exam tomorrow?" Yeonjun asked, acting as oblivious as ever.

"Well, yeah... I kinda browsed through it last night."

Yeonjun ran both of his hands on his face and said, "I did too. But it's math. And it's making me frustrated.”

"We can just share the table amongst the three of us tomorrow," you chimed, knowing well that the other two couldn't excel in math like you. Both of the males nodded at your suggestion.

The three of you ended up sharing one table on your test. Your teacher didn't pay much attention to the seating position, so it gave you the chance to change seats. Plus, he didn't check on his students while the test was happening, allowing the two males to peek openly at your paper.

Saturday came, and you got a call from Soobin, asking if you were free today and if you were down for a date.

"Y/n, are you busy? Do you wanna go with me to the amusement park that just opened?" he asked."Sure, Bin! I'm down! Let me just get ready!" You really wanted to make it up to him. "Okay, I'll pick you up. I love you."

"I love you too, Soobin."

Soobin never raises his voice toward you. He's so soft-spoken and gentle. You almost couldn't find a flaw in him.

Soobin came shortly, in his usual tee and jeans. A bright, dimpled smile flashed across his face when he saw you.

"Let's go?"

"Let's go!"

You enjoyed the date with him. In fact, you really love going out with him because he knows what to do, gets everything planned, and is always prepared for a plan B. You love Soobin. You love your boyfriend. So why, of all people, are you kissing Yeonjun at your front door?

"I'm glad you enjoyed our date. I'm really sorry for being jealous y/n. I promise not to say unnecessary things about your friendship with him." You were in Soobin's embrace the whole time while he was saying all of these.

"No, Binnie, I should be the one saying sorry," you admitted. Soobin only shook his head, "No, it's all good. Maybe I wasn't in my right mind at that time. I should've known better."

"Plus, I know you love me. You love me, right?" he added.

"Of course, you silly boy. I love you!" You pinched his cheeks and planted soft kisses on them. You stepped back a bit, cupped his face, and gave him a soft kiss on his lips. Soobin was stunned.

"Just one!" You giggled as his eyes grew wider. "Now go, you don't have to escort me all the way upstairs. It's getting late now."

Soobin nods, mind-hazy, and walks away like he was a hypnotized man. You chuckled at him before you marched upstairs to your unit.

You froze when you saw Yeonjun sitting beside your door. He stood up when he saw you, smiling from ear to ear, his eyes droopy.

"Were you out?" He asked when you approached him.

"I was. Why are you here, Jjunie--Holy cow! You're drunk!" You exclaimed when you stepped closer to him, the smell of liquor shooting through your nostrils.

"Just a few shots, not that much," his voice slurred. "Missed you so bad, baby..." he whispered, holding your face. "L-let's go inside, people will see--" You were cut off when his soft and trembling lips pressed onto yours as he pushed your back against the wall.

He pulled away, leaning his forehead against yours. “I fucking missed you so much, pretty," Yeonjun whispered again before diving in for another kiss, biting down on your lower lip. Slotting his thigh between your legs. He pulled away again, rubbing his thigh on your clothed cunt, the tiny dress allowing him to move his thigh freely.

"Y-yeonjun..." you whimpered as you looked up at him. "I-inside... Let's go inside... B-bedroom..." Yeonjun snatched the key from your hand as he rushed to open the door of your unit, shutting it closed once he pulled you inside.

He pushed you against the door once more, kissing you down to your neck.

"A-are you in a rush, Jjunie?" You chuckled, tangling your fingers on his black locks. Yeonjun pants and shakes his head. "It's just that. I miss how you taste... It's been a week..."

"So eager, love. So eager, I like that." You smiled at him. "Let me wash up first," you added as you kissed his nose. He then pulled away and hugged you as you wobbled your way to the restroom because of his weight.

Just as you bent down to the sink, about to wash your face, Yeonjun lifted the hem of your dress, pressing his hard-on on your ass as he held your face to make you stare at you and his image reflecting in the mirror, his other hand resting on your waist.

He slowly grinds on you, biting his lip, and stares at you, looking into your eyes through the mirror. You propped both your hands on the sink to keep your balance, letting Yeonjun rut in you.

Yeonjun stopped, gently massaging your waist. "Have you two kissed?" he asked. You slightly nod your head and say, "J-just a peck." Yeonjun's face darkened, and his hand that once held your face moved down to your neck, giving it a little squeeze. "I'm still your favorite friend, right?"

"Y-you will always be, Jjunie."

"Now, move," he commanded, tightening his hand on your neck. You gasped for air, as you slowly rubbed your ass on him. Yeonjun removes your panties, pulling them down to your thighs.

He slid his cock out of his boxers as he rubbed it on your wet folds.

"Poor Soobin. So oblivious to what's going on," Yeonjun smirked as he slowly pushed inside of you.

You felt the familiar stretch down there, causing you to falter and chant his name. Both of his hands are gripping your waist.

"You know my name very well, don't you? Given that I'm just your dear friend," Yeonjun started thrusting, as he picked up his pace. "How come you're still so tight for -fuck,- for me?" he added.

"T-too big, Jjunie! Ahh!" You felt yourself lose your remaining strength. So you had no choice but to lean your forehead against the sink.

"Shit, I'm close, baby, fuck!" His movement stuttered for a while before he stilled inside you. Then he moves again to let you cum.

Your whole body was trembling, and your legs wobbled when he pulled out. "Fuck, I came so much; will you be okay?" Yeonjun pulled you to face him, cupping your face. "I'm f-fine, Jjunie. T-thank you so much." You bit your lower lip, nodding your head as he hugs you.

You can still feel his cum dribbling down your thighs. “Let’s get you cleaned up." Yeonjun planted a soft kiss on your forehead before he lifted you up, carrying you to the tub.

"I'll go get your clothes; you start washing up."

You found yourself cozy in Yeonjun's arms once again on that cool night. You two were tucked in your bed as Yeonjun ran his fingers through your hair. You felt drowsy, surrendering your body to Yeonjun's embrace as you fell asleep.

When you woke up the next day, Yeonjun had already left your place. Maybe he did at dawn; he always does this; but you were used to it.

And the cycle went on. You and Soobin go out for a date, and Yeonjun waits for you at your front door -- may or may not be drunk. Something happens between you two; he leaves at dawn. Soobin was still as oblivious as ever. Yeonjun enjoys it. He knows you'll keep him around, cheat on Soobin over and over again, and let him fuck you no matter what day it is.

It's been a few months since this type of setup started, not to mention the fact that even before you met Soobin, your friend, Yeonjun, has been doing things with you.

"Y/n, it's my birthday tomorrow; can you do this friend a favor?" You could see his smug look over the phone call. "Do you mind joining me at my birthday party at the club? I know you don't wanna go to those kinds of places, but could you please reconsider?" He decided to invite you to a club, no, persuade you to join him.

You had no other choice. Since he rarely asks for requests, you complied. "Fine, fine, I'll go with you. Just this once, okay?" His chuckle resonates as he replies with a hum.

You asked for permission from Soobin to go, and of course, as your loving and considerate boyfriend, he gave you permission. "Only if you let me pick you up after," Soobin said over the phone.

"I'm fine Bin sweetie. It's not far from here. I can take care of myself," you assured him. He sighed in defeat, "Call me if anything happens."

"To the corner." Yeonjun was holding your waist, admiring how the dress you wore hugged your every curve.

"It's too dark," you groaned as you plopped on the corner couch.

The place was not too big but could accommodate at least a hundred people. "I'm gonna go blind before we get out of here, Jjun," you complained, the blinking colored lights making you dizzy and making you squint your eyes.

A bucket of beer was placed on the table in front of you, along with some expensive-looking bottles of liquor. You pour some into the glass, which you guessed was whiskey. Yeonjun was intently watching your moves. You handed him the glass. "Happy birthday, Jjun." You smiled at him.

A smirk was plastered on his face as he got the glass from you, swirling the liquid inside the glass.

The clubbing went well, to your surprise. Yeonjun was quiet most of the time. Aside from his constant compliments, nothing came out of his mouth.

"You're drunk. Let's get you home." Yeonjun sighed as he stood, trying to pull you. "It's y-your birthday Jjun! L-let's get wasted!" You slurred back.

He groaned as he ran his hands against his face. "You're borderline wasted, baby; get up." You shook your head until someone approached you.

"Hey! Y/n! Is that you?" The girl called out to you. You rubbed your eyes as you stared at the girl in front of you.

"It's me, Ria, Soobin's cousin. Remember?" Yeonjun's gaze shifted from you and the girl who approached you.

"Ah! I remember now!" You exclaimed.

"Where's Soobin? And who's this guy you're with?" She asked.

"A close friend of mine, it's his birthday; we're just celebrating." You tried your very best to speak straight, and it's safe to say you did succeed.

"Happy birthday," she glanced at Yeonjun, to which Yeonjun replied with a small smile, "I'm gonna call Soobin to pick you up, okay? It's getting late; it's not safe outside."

"I'm fine; you don't have to. Besides, I'm with my friend."

"Friend..." You can tell her eyes were judging Yeonjun at this point. From the way, Yeonjun was holding your hand.

"He's really just a friend; you don't have to worry. Besides, I even asked Soobin for permission and they even know each other too." Ria nodded, sighing as she got up and bid goodbye. Even though her phone was already pressed against her ear.

"Friends...Do friends know how you taste?" Yeonjun chimed as he sat beside you once again, his face resting on his palm above the table.

"Y-yeonjun, keep your mouth shut..."Yeonjun gently slid his hand onto your thighs, down to your core.

"Jun... J-junnie, not h-here... Ahh.." his fingers traced your clothed fold.

"You saying something? Can't hear you; it's too loud in here," he asked as if he was not doing something...his fingers slowly thrusting inside your cunt.

He pushed his two digits inside, pushing and pressing. You held on to his arm tightly. Whimpers and whines are escaping your mouth.

"More?" Yeonjun taunts, "you need more?" You nod frantically as you watch his lips curl up to a smirk.

A few more minutes of his languid strokes, and you can feel yourself nearing your high.

Your eyes widened when you saw Soobin from the entrance door, his tall figure letting you know he was there.

"Y-yeonjun, your hand. H-he's here... S-soobin is here... ohh...please.. shit... M-more..." You clutched on his dress shirt, moving your hips unconsciously, begging for more, even though you could see Soobin looking for you.

"Please, baby, I need you... I need you so much..." You whimpered with a shaky voice.

A sly smirk played on Yeonjun's face. "What should we do then? Your boyfriend's here already. You need to go home." He chuckled at your trembling and drooling figure as you kept on moving your hips.

"Where is she?" Soobin asked her cousin, Ria.

"At the corner table, she's with someone whom she says is a friend." Soobin nodded as he headed towards the table at the corner, Ria following along.

"What the... I swear they were just here." Ria was confused, you were nowhere to be found. Soobin tried calling you. After six times, someone picked up the call.

"She's with me. Don't worry, she's fine. I'll take care of her." The voice over the line was Yeonjun. Soobin didn't know if he should be angry, jealous, or thankful. Nevertheless, he trusted you, and hence he just headed home. At least he knew you were safe.

Yeonjun threw the phone in the backseat of his car. "Fuck, at least wait till we are home, baby... Shit ahh!" He gripped tightly on the steering wheel as he bucked his hips up, hitting your throat.

"Wait til we're home, and you're done for, you-- fuck!" His lips are red and swollen from the biting as you bob your head on his cock.

Lucky for him, the traffic wasn't that bad. He decided to head to his place instead of yours. He was thinking Soobin might come to your place. Just to be safe. Besides, Soobin didn't know where he lived.

If there was a competition about holding back, Yeonjun could've won. He managed not to cum inside your mouth. He wanted you in his bed, not in the car. You were too pretty for public sex.

His front door burst open as he dragged you upstairs. His steps were heavy and rushed.

Without further ado, he quickly got rid of your flimsy dress, pushing you onto the bed. He did not waste any time, slipping out of his clothes, eyes full of lust. the moment he saw you lying on the bed.

The bed dipped under his weight. "How come you're so shy now, hm?" He taunts. "Show me your daring side; you just sucked me off in my car, and now you're covering your pretty little face?" Yeonjun chuckled as he pried your hands off your face.

"I hate to say this, but you're acting like a slut. My bratty slut." You whimpered at his words. You're not used to him calling you names, yet it stirred something in you.

Yeonjun hovers above you as he plays with your nipple, watching you squirm.

"My, my. Look at you. What a good, beautiful slut. A cheater, indeed." You might tear his sheets by how tightly you were clutching them."Y-yeon... J-junnie..." Your eyes rolled to the back of your head when his tongue swirled on your nipples.

He started planting wet and open-mouthed kisses on your chest. Leaving splotchy red marks in the process. Then his lips claimed yours in a searing kiss. But it wasn't aggressive; instead, it was a passionate one. A kiss that clearly says he doesn't only want you, but he also loves you dearly.

"I love you... I love you y/n. I can't do this anymore; I can't watch you with Soobin anymore. Please, I want you to myself."

You never thought that Yeonjun actually liked you to this extent. You thought it was just a normal thing to be friends with benefits.

"S-should I break up with him?" You asked as you held his face closer to you. "Do you promise to take care of me just like how we are now?" Yeonjun nodded, kissing your forehead.

You were caught off guard when he rubbed his tip on your wet cunt. "Stay away from him; you're mine. You were mine from the start." As he kept on teasing you with his cock.

"G-give it to me, Jjun, please... Ohhh.." You were moving your hips with him, hugging him, wanting him closer to your body.

The stretch was familiar. It felt so good that you pulled his hair unconsciously.

"P-please keep pulling my hair, fuck, I love it. Holy shit." Yeonjun was into hair-pulling? You smiled; you never knew this side of him. He started thrusting, his warm flesh dragging over your mushy walls.

"D-did Soobin g-get to feel you like this?" his voice shaky as he slowly pulls out and slams back into you. Eliciting a yelp and a moan from you.

"N-no! Only y-you... O-only you, Jjunie..." His grin grew wider after knowing Soobin didn't even have the chance to split you and see this side of you.

"You're a bad girl y/n, you know that?" He played with your clit as he stopped thrusting for a while. You shook your head in disagreement. "I-i'm a good g-girl!"

"Do good girls cheat? Hm?" You bit your lip as you melted into his gaze. "Greedy too. You have a boyfriend, yet you're fucking your best friend. Such a whore."

"Yeonjun..." you whined, tears escaping your pretty eyes.

"Why are you crying, my pretty whore? Am I not making you feel good?" He pulled out fully, teasing his tip once again on your folds.

"P-please say i-i'm a good g-girl.." You pleaded, tears still flowing from your eyes. "You're my good little whore, baby. You're not bad for cheating on Soobin with me, you deserve this good cock." He cooed at you with a wide grin, slamming back again inside you.

"Now be my good baby and pull on my hair again, will you?"

You tangled your fingers through his dark locks, pulling them every time he thrusts inside. He can't let you see his red cheeks, deciding to hide into your neck the entire time, busying himself with planting hickeys on your porcelain smooth skin. His thrusts were so strong that you came two times in a row already.

"It feels so fucking good... Shit." He couldn't stop telling you how amazing he felt every time you pulled on his hair. "It feels too good; I think I'm gonna cum," he groaned on your neck, his thrusts growing sloppy.

You nodded frantically, wanting him to cum inside you again and again. Filling you up to the brim. To let his cum overflow inside your pussy.

It only took him a few more thrusts before he spilled inside, painting your walls white. His cock pulsated inside your cum-filled pussy. He pulled out gently, not wanting to spill his cum, pushing his cum more inside of you with his two fingers. You felt so sensitive that you started to whimper underneath him.

"I hope you don't forget what you've said, because you're drunk," he sighed as he lay beside you, pulling you into a hug. Your arms reached over his waist, hugging him back. "I won't. I'm already sober."

"Don't joke around. I almost dragged you out of the club because you seemed borderline drunk, baby." He pouted. "I swear, I'm sober, Yeonjun. I started being sober when your cock reached my throat earlier." You chuckled, giving his chest a few kisses. A blush crept up his cheeks as he buried his face on the top of your head.

"Just tell me when you're ready to go again, hm? I want more," he whispered. "Five minutes. Let's continue after five minutes," you chimed as you littered his neck with hickeys.

@binniesbooks 2024

[gh0stsp1d3r]

Ok but hear me out bestie:

I think a fix with Luke and reader (established couple) and they have a pregnancy scare (totally false alarm) would be so funny

Their reactions and maybe some fluff in the end would be cute too

i love this sm omg 😭 😭 he’d be terrified

𝒫𝓇ℯ𝑔𝓃𝒶𝓃𝒸𝓎 𝓈𝒸𝒶𝓇ℯ

masterlist

You woke up in the middle of the night, suddenly feeling the urge to throw up. You were nauseous as you stood up, stumbling towards the bathroom.

You breathed heavily, a hand over your face, leaning against the wall. You put the back of your hand onto your forehead, furrowing your eyebrows. You didn’t feel hot.

You were confused, and that’s when the thought popped into your head. You were late, and you felt sick. No way. You originally thought, shaking it away.

Your heart and mind raced with the thought throughout the rest of the day, and it was when you were training with Luke when he noticed. You were off the whole day. He disarmed you, your sword falling to the ground. He smiled, getting ready to tease you when he saw your face.

"You good?" he asked you, smile faltering when he looked back up at you. His expression turned into one of concern as he stared at your features, trying to figure out what was wrong in his head.

"I... have something to tell you."

He furrowed an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side and looking at you in confusion.

"Y/n?"

"Sit down." You told him. Okay, now he was really concerned. He sat down with you on a nearby rock, holding your hand in his to bring comfort.

"Luke... I think I'm pregnant."

His mouth flew open, eyebrows creasing, trying to tell if you were joking or not.

"What? Are you serious?" he asked you with a nervous laugh, gripping your hand a bit tighter.

"I don't know, really, I have to take a test, but I needed you to know."

"What makes you think that your pregnant?"

"I woke up this morning feeling super sick, and I threw up... And I'm a week late!"

He swallowed the lump in his throat, nodding slowly to your words. "We should... take a test, right?"

"Yeah, but where the hell would I even get one? Not too sure that's something they keep in a camp."

"I know they have some in the big house. I can go sneak in and steal one or two." he shrugged.

You furrowed an eyebrow, wondering how he knew that, but ignored it for now. You just nodded, and he grabbed your sword, helping you off the rock. You both walked silently to your cabins.

"I'll get them tonight, and see you tomorrow morning." He told you, both of you standing in front of your cabin.

"Okay." you sighed out. He leaned in, putting his lips on yours. "See you tomorrow," You spoke when he pulled away. He nodded, waiting until you were inside to walk to the Hermes cabin.

He let out a sigh, running a hand over his face, glancing over at the big house and back at his cabin.

He knocked on the window next to your bed, you sat up quicker than the flash, opening it as quickly as you could.

"Jesus, did you even sleep?" he whispered to you, looking around your space. You shook your head. "I couldn't."

"Here." He handed you two boxes. "Thank you." You whispered, going into the bathroom while he sat on your bed, anxiously waiting for you, his leg bouncing up and down while he bit his nail.

It had felt like hours until you came out, holding both tests in front of you, both negative. He let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding in.

"Thank Gods." He muttered, sighing and getting into the bed next to you. You put your head on his chest, wrapping your arms around his figure.

"I don't know, would kids be that bad?" you asked him, looking up at him.

"I mean, I'm not against us having kids in the future. Right now, In camp? Recipe for disaster."

You nodded in agreement, looking back ahead, and shutting your eyes.

"Believe me, soon as we're outta camp, I'll give you all the kids you want." He told you with a smile, kissing the crown of your head while you giggled.

[sanguineterrain]

hi sanne!!! my mind has been rotting with assistant!reader x dick, and i literally can’t get it out 😭. i'm in love with your writing and reblog everything! thank you so much, have a great day!!

cute idea! I gave it a little twist ;) hope u enjoy!

dick grayson x gn!assistant!reader. flirting, secret identities, sparring.

****

Bruce Wayne is evasive on a good day and downright invisible on a bad one.

So when you see him down the hallway from his office, attempting to escape without being caught, you nearly trip on your feet trying to catch him.

"Mr. Wayne!"

His shoulders rise with tension. You pity the guy, you really do. Being a gazillionaire is tough.

"Mr. Wayne! Mr. Wayne, Sharon has been hounding me about the charity dinner. Please, if you could just go to this one dinner... you haven't been to an event all month."

And you're getting the brunt of it from all of WE's clients.

Bruce turns, his smile looking more like a grimace. "Hn. Hello. A dinner? I was sure I had a shareholder meeting that day—"

"All month? B, what happened to the two event minimum? That's your rule."

The new voice comes from behind you. Dick Grayson walks down the hallway, wearing jeans that probably cost as much as your monthly rent.

"Mr. Grayson," you say, nodding primly. "How are you?"

You shift the files in your hands as they start to slip. Dick is quick to catch them, balancing the stack.

"We've been through this," he says with a smile. "You know you can call me Dick."

Yes, you've been through this. Every time Dick shows up to Wayne Enterprises, he tells you to call him by his first name. And every time after that, you call him Mr. Grayson.

"Right..." you say, taking back the files. You turn to Bruce. "Mr. Wayne, if you would just consider the dinner..."

Dick gives Bruce a severe look. "B, this is ridiculous. You're such a stickler for rules and yet—"

"Oh, look at the time." Bruce scoots past you and Dick. "I've got that meeting with Lucius. Where does the day go? Please tell Sharon I'll get back to her."

You can't understand how a guy whose biggest exertion is made by playing tennis at the country club can slip through your fingers so fast. He's around the corner before you can blink. You sigh.

"Don't worry," Dick says. "I'll get him to go. And I'll get one of my siblings to tag along to make sure he doesn't duck out early."

You smile briefly. "I'd appreciate that, Mr. Grayson."

"Dick. So!" He trails behind you as you make your way back to your office. "Do you have any plans for tonight?"

"Working."

"O-kay..." Dick jogs ahead to hold the door open for you. You push through, trying not to frown. "What about tomorrow night?"

You toss your scarf on the hook. It ends up on the floor. You ignore it.

"Still working."

"How 'bout I ask B to give you the day off then?"

Now it's your turn to give a severe look. "If you're implying that I'd be obligated to go out with you in return for a day off, you've completely misjudged my character, Mr. Grayson."

"Whoa, okay." He holds up his hands. "You're right, that didn't come out right. How about I get him to give you a day off, no strings attached?"

You dump your files and sit at your desk. "That's at your discretion."

"Hey." Dick leans on your desk, puppy eyes at full power. "Maybe we've gotten off on the wrong foot. Did I do something that put you off? I'd like you to tell me if I have. I hope the fact that I'm Bruce's son isn't stopping you from being honest."

You put down your pen and look at him. "Look. You seem like a nice guy, and you're handsome with a rich dad to boot. But I'm just not available, okay? You're looking for someone to go to Tahiti with. I respect that. But I'm not that person. I'm just not interested in that."

"You think I'm handsome?"

You sigh and open your laptop.

"Right! Sorry. Not the point." Dick sinks into a crouch next to you. He pulls the oddest poses sometimes, like he's made of rubber bands. "Okay. You're not looking for a trip to Tahiti. Got it. I don't take many vacations anyway. So how about having a friend?"

"And why would you want to be my friend? I'm just some assistant."

"Well, I..." Dick scratches his neck. "I like you. Is that so hard to believe?"

Very. But okay. You can throw him a bone.

"I guess not," you say.

Dick frowns. "You don't believe me."

How does he do that?

"Can I please get back to work?" you ask, only a little worried about being rude. "I'm sorry, I'm just very busy."

His face falls briefly before he stands and nods.

"Of course. No problem. I'll see you around? And I'll get B to go to that dinner."

"Thank you."

You don't notice his lingering looks, or the fact that he picks up your scarf and places it on the hook on his way out.

****

3...17...64.

The safe clicks. You smirk. Easy peasy. The hotshots always use their own birthdays for combinations. Predictable. You bet Bruce Wayne does the same.

It's a blessing that you were able to duck out early today. Bruce gave you the rest of the afternoon off. You suspect that was due to some outside meddling.

You take out the files from D.A. Colson's safe. You always say that if crooked district attorneys don't want their documents stolen, they shouldn't put them where anybody can find them.

...Maybe you were too harsh with Dick. He's sweet, no doubt. It was nice of him to get you off early. But you kind of feel like he'd take issue with the fact that you spend your weeknights breaking and entering.

"You know, cracking safes is already Catwoman's shtick," a voice says behind you. "You might wanna find a new gimmick."

A thrill shoots through you. You toss your head as you turn, leaning against the open safe.

"Catwoman steals diamonds." You hold up the documents. "I just steal files. And make a few edits."

"That's extremely illegal. Those files belong to the district attorney," Nightwing says, crossing his arms.

"The dirty district attorney," you correct.

"I'm supposed to let you off on a technicality?" He sounds amused.

Your shrug one shoulder, a little coy. "You could. I hear you're the nice one."

He laughs. Nightwing has a pretty smile. It's the first thing you'd noticed about him.

"Oh, yeah? Anything else you've heard?"

"Plenty. But I'm in a bit of a hurry tonight, Wing. As much as I enjoy our little chats..."

You dart to the window. Nightwing easily blocks your exit.

You're not quite sure what overtakes you when you run into Nightwing. Ignoring the fact that he manages to be the one to chase you almost every time (and what a chase it is), there's a tension between you. Or maybe it's just one-sided on your part. It certainly doesn't help that he's got a nice smile and bouncy hair.

"You know I can't let you go," he says, hands on his hips. "Put it down."

And he's extremely good at what he does.

"Make me," you say.

He never uses his escrima sticks, which you know is a courtesy to you. But that doesn't mean you can't hold your own.

"Alright," Nightwing says, smirking slightly.

He takes three steps, blocks your immediate kick, and takes the documents.

Something swoops in your belly. You kind of get why Catwoman exclusively fights Batman. Once you go bat, you never go back.

"Got them," he says cheerily. "Now what?"

You throw a glass bird tchotchke at him from Colson's desk. He catches it with his free hand, but it's enough of a distraction for you to slide into his legs. Nightwing stumbles less than you would like, but you push him down against the desk.

He grunts as he hits the wood, then rolls you over in the next breath, hands catching your wrists.

"Stealing... makes you no better... than Colson," he says, hair falling over his mask. All of him is pretty, really. It's too bad he's so firmly on the blind side of justice. You're trying to help the little people. Batman and his merry band of do-gooders have always been too focused on the big picture.

"If these documents are buried, Colson will win his case and hide his own crimes in the process. Is that what you want? Another crook in court?" you ask.

Nightwing frowns. "You know that's not fair. We can't falsify evidence for the sake of putting Colson behind bars. IF we pick and choose whose lives to play with, what gives us the right to carry out justice?"

"I dunno, Wing," you say, a little breathless. Nightwing's hips are politely shifted off of yours, chest to yours. "Seeing you go rogue would be kind of exciting."

You can tell he's glaring at you. "Not in your dreams."

"Been in my dreams, have you?"

You gain enough leverage to push Nightwing off of you. He's back on you immediately, trapping you against the wall.

"How is doing something like this not crooked?" he asks.

You scoff. "It's for charity. I'm donating residents to the county jail."

You twist in Nightwing's hold and land a kick. In the three seconds he's distracted, you grab the documents. No sooner do you do that does Nightwing tackle you. The documents slip out of your hand.

"I can do this all night," he says, knee wedged between your legs. "Might as well yield."

"Yield? You're not even playing at your full strength, hotshot."

He smiles. "No, I'm playing nice."

You roll your eyes. "Well, play fair."

And then you jump out of the window.

Your tuck and roll isn't the worst but it's not the best. Especially when Nightwing neatly lands a few feet away without a wince.

"Showoff," you say.

"Give me the documents," he says. "I want to put Colson away, too. But this isn't how to do it. He's still a civilian, and his clients' lives matter."

You get up and wobble on a loose brick on the edge. Stupid historical buildings.

You're desperate. If he keeps this up, you're bound to land yourself a night in the police station and lose the documents.

So you dust yourself off. And you stop. Right at the edge of the roof.

"Okay," you say.

Nightwing takes a careful step forward. "Okay?"

You toss the documents to him. He catches them in surprise.

"You're surrendering?" he asks.

You shrug. "Like you said: you can do this all night. And I guess there are better ways to catch Colson. More permanent ways."

He tilts his head. "You're not gonna kill him, are you?"

"No! Jesus, man. Ye of little faith."

"I'm just trying to understand why you surrendered."

You sigh. "Because you always win anyway. You're a better fighter than me. And I'm cornered. I just feel like cutting my losses early. You're a lot more convincing than Batman."

"Is that so?"

"Oh, yeah. I much prefer you chasing me."

"Uh-huh." He nods towards the building. "Come on, then."

"Okay, sure."

You take a step. And you fall.

The brick is loose under your foot. It doesn't take much for you to keep going.

Panic surges through you, but that only solidifies your acting.

"Wing!" you cry, toppling over the edge.

"Shit!"

Nightwing lunges and grabs you by your waist, then uses momentum to haul you both to safety. His cheek against yours for a moment, body pressed to yours. It really is a damn shame he's such a Boy Scout.

You knock him in the stomach and snatch the documents, then separate from his grip. You watch his face contort in realization as you land and bolt.

"That wasn't playing nice or fair!" he yells, landing on the opposite side.

You're already gone, laughter echoing.