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aesthetically-dying101 · 2 days ago

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Trainwreck

A/N: *sighs* can you guys guess who i wrote for? yes its nanami

warnings: innapropriate workplace behavior (this is all so unrealistic pls), thats mostly it, maybe a bit OOC? idk obsessive behavior, lowkey creepy

Nanami Kento prides himself on being a man of structure. He clocks in at 8:00 AM sharp, organizes his desk with ruthless efficiency, and approaches every task with a quiet, burning determination. But recently—recently, you’ve ruined him.

Completely, utterly ruined him.

You’re not even his boss. No, you’re her secretary. Just the secretary, really.

A pleasant smile in the hallway, the click of heels passing by his office door. You’re always polite, professional. Efficient. And yet, you’ve utterly dismantled every ounce of his composure.

He notices everything about you.

He notices too much.

The way you tuck your hair behind your ear when you're focused, the faint scent of your perfume (something floral but not cloying, clean and perfect). The way you laugh softly with the receptionist when you think no one is listening.

God, you never wear a wedding band.

He’s looked.

He’s ashamed of how often he’s looked.

He hates himself for it—hates the way his chest tightens when he hears your voice. Hates the way his thoughts stray in the quiet moments of the day, imagining what it would be like if you looked at him the way he looks at you.

But you barely notice him.

At least, that’s what he tells himself. Why would you? He’s just another cog in the machine, another suit with no significance beyond his output.

Nanami lets out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. He’s supposed to be working, but instead, he’s replaying that moment from earlier today: the way you’d popped into the breakroom, looking fresh and radiant in that blouse that he’s now convinced was designed to torment him.

“Oh, hi, Nanami,” you’d said, smiling at him as you poured yourself a cup of coffee. It had been such a simple, innocent thing. And yet, his brain had short-circuited.

“Morning,” he’d managed, stiff and awkward, and he’s sure you noticed. God, why did his voice sound so clipped?

“You doing okay? You looked a little stressed in the meeting earlier.”

And that had really done it. Your concern—casual, effortless—had hit him like a freight train. He could barely stammer out a reply before you were gone, leaving him standing there, coffee untouched, his heart doing somersaults in his chest.

He wants to believe he’s subtle about it, but he knows better. He’s not subtle. Not when he hangs back in the breakroom just to hear you chatting with someone, filing away every detail like the pathetic little moth he is, hopelessly drawn to your flame.

“Yeah, no, I’m just focusing on work right now,” you’d said once, when someone asked if you had any plans for the weekend. No mention of a boyfriend. No hint of anyone waiting for you at home.

It shouldn’t matter, and yet it feels like the cruelest kind of hope, igniting in his chest despite himself.

Nanami leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. He’s disgusting. Obsessed. You’re probably not even aware of his existence beyond the bare minimum. Why would you be? You’re smart, funny, stunning—and he’s just him. Dull. Predictable. The kind of guy women settle for when they’re tired of the fireworks.

But oh, if you ever gave him the chance. If you so much as glanced in his direction with anything resembling interest, he’d fall to his knees. Worship you. Do anything to make you happy.

It’s humiliating. The longing, the yearning, the ache.

And yet he can’t stop.

His thoughts spiral as the hours drag on, oscillating between bitterness and hope. He tells himself to stop—orders himself to focus—but his mind keeps circling back to you.

Always you.

The end of the day finally comes, and as he’s gathering his things, he hears the soft sound of your voice drifting from the hallway.

“Night, Nanami!”

You wave as you pass, the gesture casual but bright enough to light up the entire goddamn floor.

“Goodnight,” he replies, quieter than he means to. His hand tightens on his briefcase.

You disappear around the corner, and Nanami stays frozen for a moment, staring at the space where you’d been.

*-*

It’s Christmas in the office.

The annual “holiday celebration,” a thinly veiled excuse for everyone to slack off in the name of festivity. Nanami hates it—or at least he wants to hate it. Forced camaraderie, cheap decorations, music that grates on his nerves. It’s the kind of chaos he typically avoids.

But then you walk in, and every ounce of self-discipline he’s built over the years shatters into irreparable pieces.

The pencil skirt.

The goddamn Christmas-colored pencil skirt. It’s shorter than usual, clinging to your hips in a way that feels engineered to destroy him. The matching blouse, festive but just tight enough to drive him completely fucking insane.

It’s not fair.

You’re smiling as you step into the breakroom, chatting with a coworker, utterly oblivious to the wreckage you’re leaving in your wake.

Nanami’s pulse spikes. His gaze darts away, but the image of you is already seared into his brain, lingering like a bad habit.

He adjusts his tie, swallowing hard. Don’t be a creep. Don’t be a fucking creep. But then his eyes flick back, just for a second, and—oh no. Oh no, no, no.

His pants feel too tight.

He grits his teeth, clenching his jaw as he fumbles with a stack of papers on his desk. His hands tremble slightly. He’s mortified, but there’s no stopping it. Not when his traitorous brain is already spinning, conjuring images he really shouldn’t be entertaining in the middle of the office.

Images of you. That skirt riding up higher, your thighs bare beneath his hands. The sound of your laughter softening into breathless gasps. The way your lips would feel against his skin—

Nanami bolts.

He mutters something vague about needing a minute to no one in particular and beelines for the bathroom. The fluorescent lights are harsh as he leans against the sink, gripping the porcelain edge like it’s the only thing tethering him to sanity.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he hisses to his reflection. His tie feels like a noose around his neck.

He splashes cold water on his face, but it doesn’t help. Not when every time he blinks, he sees you. The soft curve of your waist, the way your hair catches the light.

Pathetic. He’s fucking pathetic. You’re just trying to celebrate the holidays like everyone else, and here he is, locked in the bathroom, wrestling with his own shameless thoughts.

The worst part—the absolute worst part—is that it’s not just the dirty shit. Oh, no. His brain is crueler than that.

He imagines quiet mornings with you. You in his kitchen, wearing one of his shirts, smiling at him over a mug of coffee. Your hand brushing his as you pass him a plate, the warmth of your touch lingering long after.

It’s insidious. It’s relentless. It’s everything he doesn’t deserve, and yet he wants it so badly he feels like he might choke on it.

Nanami drags a hand down his face, letting out a groan that echoes in the empty bathroom.

She doesn’t even notice you, idiot.

He stays there longer than he should, collecting himself—or trying to. Eventually, he straightens his tie, squares his shoulders, and forces himself to return to his desk.

But when he passes by the breakroom again, you’re laughing, radiant, and he knows this torture is far from over.

*-*

Nanami doesn’t mean to eavesdrop.

Really, he doesn’t.

But it’s impossible not to overhear you when you’re in the breakroom, talking to someone about the bouquet on the receptionist’s desk.

“Oh, these are lovely,” you say, your voice light and cheerful. “But if I had to pick, I’ve always been more into bold flowers. Red dahlias, spider lilies, roses—things like that. Dark, dramatic colors. They’re so beautiful.”

Nanami freezes in the hallway, a stack of files in his hands. His heart does this stupid little stutter, the same one it always does when he hears your voice. But now it’s worse because his mind is spinning with the image of you holding a bouquet like the one you’ve just described.

Red dahlias, spider lilies. The thought of you cradling those flowers, smiling at them, smiling because of him—he has to physically shake his head to clear it.

He’s pathetic.

He knows he’s pathetic. He clenches the files tighter, willing himself to keep walking, but the image won’t leave him.

Over the next few days, he thinks about it more than he wants to admit. He imagines walking into a flower shop, carefully selecting each bloom, making sure they’re perfect. He imagines handing the bouquet to you, watching your face light up—

And then he imagines the aftermath. You smiling politely, awkwardly thanking him, wondering why the hell one of your coworkers is giving you flowers.

No.

He can’t do it. It’s wildly inappropriate. He’s already teetering on the edge of unprofessionalism just by thinking about you like this.

But then, one quiet afternoon in the office, he hears you mention your birthday in passing.

“Oh, it’s in a month or so,” you say, laughing softly. “I don’t usually do much for it, though. Just a quiet day, you know?”

Nanami marks the date down the second he gets back to his desk. He feels like a creep for it, but the thought of letting the day pass without acknowledgment feels unbearable.

He’s spent weeks overthinking this, debating whether or not he should go through with it. But as he stands outside the florist that morning, the door handle cold in his hand, he decides he can’t let it go.

He picks each flower carefully: crimson dahlias with velvety petals, a few spider lilies that curl dramatically, and deep red roses. It’s a small bouquet—not too extravagant, just enough to feel thoughtful.

By the time he gets to the office, his palms are clammy, and he feels like he might actually pass out.

He doesn’t give it to you right away. He waits until the middle of the day, when the office is quieter and most people are out at lunch. He finds you at your desk, bent over some papers, your hair falling slightly into your face.

“Excuse me,” he says, his voice more formal than he intended.

You look up, blinking in surprise, and when your eyes land on the bouquet in his hands, they widen slightly.

“I, uh—” He clears his throat, trying not to fumble. “I overheard that it was your birthday today. Happy birthday.”

You take the bouquet slowly, your expression shifting from surprise to something softer—something warmer.

“Oh my gosh, Nanami, these are gorgeous,” you say, holding the flowers close to your chest. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“It’s nothing,” he replies quickly, shoving his hands into his pockets to hide how much they’re trembling. “Just… thought you’d like them.”

“I love them.” Your smile is radiant, and for the first time, he feels like he might actually be able to breathe again.

“Thank you,” you say, your voice sincere.

He nods, forcing himself to meet your gaze for just a moment.

“You’re welcome,” he murmurs, before quickly retreating to the safety of his desk.

But that's what happens in his mind, in his fantasy... in reality, he simply left those at your desk while you were in a meeting, though he did hear you gasp when you saw them.

As he sits at his desk, his heart pounding, he allows himself a small, private smile. For once, his yearning doesn’t feel quite so pathetic.

*-*

Nanami doesn’t mean to eavesdrop. Again. But it’s impossible not to hear you when your voice floats down the hallway like that, soft and full of joy.

The bouquet sits proudly on your desk, vibrant reds catching the fluorescent light, and you’re standing nearby, talking to another employee.

“I still can’t believe it,” you’re saying, your tone carrying this sweet mix of wonder and delight. “No one’s ever done something like this for me before. It’s just… so thoughtful, you know?”

Nanami, passing by with his usual quiet efficiency, freezes mid-step. His breath hitches in his throat.

“I mean, look at them,” you continue, gesturing to the flowers. “They’re perfect. Whoever picked these out really put a lot of thought into it.” You laugh softly, a sound that makes his chest ache. “I’m not even sure how they knew these are my favorites.”

He stands there, rooted to the spot, his pulse roaring in his ears.

She’s talking about me. She’s talking about me.

He feels ridiculous for the way his stomach twists, for the heat creeping up his neck. A grown man shouldn’t feel this way, shouldn’t feel this weak, over a few kind words. But goddammit, he can’t help it.

The idea that you’re gushing about something he did, that he made you happy, even for a moment—it’s enough to undo him completely.

“Whoever it was,” you add, your voice softening, “it’s just… it really made my day. Probably my whole week, honestly.”

Nanami swallows hard, clutching his briefcase like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. His emotions are a mess—a chaotic tangle of pride, relief, and something deeper, something that makes his throat feel tight.

He knows he should walk away. He shouldn’t linger here, shouldn’t keep listening like some lovesick fool. But he’s stuck, trapped by the sound of your voice and the warmth in your words.

When he finally moves, it’s with a heaviness in his chest that he can’t quite define. He makes his way back to his desk, sitting down and staring blankly at his computer screen.

*-*

Weeks bleed together in the monotony of office life, except for the moments where Nanami lets himself carve out little spaces of joy—tiny gestures that go unnoticed by most but feel monumental to him.

It starts with a single chocolate, placed carefully on the corner of your desk one morning before you arrive. Just a small thing, barely bigger than his thumb, wrapped in shiny foil. He doesn’t linger to see your reaction. He couldn’t stomach it, not when he knows he’d fold in on himself if you so much as tilted your head in confusion.

But the next day, you’re chatting with the receptionist, that same soft laugh spilling from your lips.

“It’s so weird,” you’re saying, holding the empty wrapper in your fingers. “I found this little chocolate on my desk yesterday. I don’t know who left it, but it was sweet. Made my morning, honestly.”

Nanami ducks his head, pretending to be engrossed in the stack of reports he’s holding, but inside, he’s practically vibrating. She noticed. She noticed.

He tells himself to stop, to leave it there, but he doesn’t. He can’t. The yearning is too big, too loud, and it demands an outlet, however small.

After a grueling conference one afternoon, he slips a bottle of chilled water onto your desk when you step away. Nothing extravagant—just a quiet act of care. You’re gone for no more than a minute, but when you return, you blink down at the bottle, tilting your head in that way he finds unfairly adorable.

“Huh,” you murmur, glancing around. “Did someone leave this?”

You shrug, unscrewing the cap and taking a sip, and Nanami has to fight the urge to look away too quickly, lest anyone catch the faint pink blooming across his cheeks.

It’s pathetic.

The way he lives for these small moments, like a man stranded in a desert, savoring droplets of water. Every tiny gesture, every unnoticed offering, feels like a prayer he’s too afraid to voice aloud.

He notices everything about you. How you seem to perk up on Friday afternoons, your shoulders relaxing as you chat about weekend plans. How you wrinkle your nose just slightly when you’re concentrating. How you hum under your breath when you think no one’s listening—a soft, tuneless sound that drives him to distraction.

He doesn’t need grand gestures. He doesn’t want them. He just wants to make your days a little brighter, even if you never know it’s him.

And god, does he yearn.

He daydreams when he shouldn’t, his thoughts slipping away from spreadsheets and into fantasies that make his chest ache. He imagines brushing your hair back from your face, the softness of your skin beneath his fingertips. He imagines quiet evenings, your laughter filling the silence of his apartment. He imagines the weight of your head on his shoulder as you drift off to sleep.

And sometimes—sometimes, when he’s alone, when the ache feels unbearable—he lets himself imagine things he shouldn’t. Things that make his heart race and his breath catch and leave him staring at his own reflection in shame after.

But he never acts on it. Never says a word. Instead, he keeps leaving his little tokens: a coffee cup placed carefully on your desk when he overhears you complain about a late night, a pack of your favorite pens after you mention running out.

You smile every time, and though you never suspect him, that’s enough. It has to be enough.

At least, that’s what he tells himself.

*-*

You’re not an idiot.

No, you may be a little dense sometimes, but you’re not stupid. Someone has been leaving you small, thoughtful little gifts over the past few weeks.

And you have absolutely no idea who it is.

It started innocently enough—chocolate on your desk one morning. You didn’t think much of it at first, but then it kept happening. A bottle of water after a long conference, a cup of coffee after a particularly brutal meeting. At first, you thought maybe it was just a mistake, someone leaving things around and not realizing it was yours. But no, they were always right where you’d find them. Right when you needed them.

It’s sweet. Really sweet. But it's also starting to annoy the ever-living shit out of you because, for the life of you, you can’t figure out who’s doing it.

You’ve spent the past few days trying to narrow it down, your brain doing mental gymnastics over every damn interaction you’ve had at work. And frankly? You’re getting tired of it.

“Alright, let’s break this shit down,” you mutter to yourself as you sip your second cup of coffee of the day, pretending to focus on an email.

Option one: Your boss.

Ha. Right. She’s too busy scheduling her hair appointments to think about leaving chocolates on anyone’s desk. Plus, she’s got the whole “I don’t care if you live or die” attitude, so yeah, not her.

Option two: Kevin from accounting.

Kevin’s an idiot. A well-meaning idiot, but still. He’s the type to forget the coffee in the breakroom and then call it “the best thing ever” for two hours, as though anyone cares about his “discovery.” You’re not buying that.

Option three: That one guy from marketing, Tom.

You nearly burst into laughter just thinking about it. Tom’s an over-caffeinated golden retriever in a human’s body. He’s the type of guy who thinks sending a “Hey, just wanted to check in!” email twice a day is “checking in” on people. He probably couldn’t even remember to get a chocolate from a store, let alone leave it at your desk.

Option four: Nanami.

You pause mid-sip, blinking rapidly. Nanami? The quiet guy from finance? The one who barely says more than a handful of words in a meeting?

Now that’s an intriguing thought. He’s always… there. Always around, like a quiet shadow, observing. Sure, he’s not exactly filling the room with energy, but there’s something there, right? Something beneath that perfectly structured exterior.

You sigh, rubbing your temples. No way. That’s ridiculous.

But then you think about it. Nanami’s the type of guy who doesn’t get distracted by office chaos. He’s methodical. Focused. The guy who lives on routine. He’d be the one to sneakily notice when someone’s overworked and needs a small pick-me-up. He’s just... quiet about it.

But then again, who leaves water bottles, chocolates, and coffee? It’s not like he’s ever said anything about it. Not a single “hey, I thought you might like this,” or anything remotely close to an acknowledgment. Hell, he doesn’t even smile much.

God, he’s so damn mysterious it makes your head spin.

You glance over at his desk. There he is—quiet, as usual. Focused, pretending the world isn’t falling apart around him.

It could be him.

But no. You shake your head, dismissing the thought immediately. He’s not the type. Right?

It’s just… weird. And you’re not even sure why it feels so weird. Maybe it’s just the fact that you’ve got a secret admirer at work, which is fucking hilarious because it sounds like something out of a shitty rom-com you wouldn’t even watch if someone paid you.

"God, I’m going insane," you mutter under your breath, checking your watch. "Seriously. Who the hell is doing this?"

*-*

It took weeks.

Weeks of small gestures.

You’ve figured it out.

It took some careful observation, a bit of deduction, and honestly, a lot of staring at Nanami when he wasn’t looking. But there’s no doubt in your mind now. The quiet, stoic, almost painfully composed man from finance—the one who always has his tie perfectly in place and whose voice could melt butter—he’s your secret admirer.

And oh, it’s delicious.

At first, you weren’t sure. Nanami wasn’t exactly the type to scream “hopeless romantic” or even “mildly interested.” But the more you watched him, the more obvious it became. The way his eyes linger on you just a second too long, the way he tenses when you get too close, the way he seems to disappear right after you find something thoughtful left at your desk.

You caught him once, hovering near the break room as you raved to a coworker about the flowers. He didn’t say a word, but the way he froze mid-step, his jaw tightening ever so slightly? Yeah. That was all the confirmation you needed.

And honestly? You’re thrilled.

Nanami’s hot. Not just conventionally attractive, but smart-hot, the kind of guy who could ruin you with a PowerPoint presentation and a sharp comment about fiscal responsibility. He’s also maddeningly composed, which makes you want to poke at him, see what’s underneath that calm, collected exterior.

So, naturally, you decide to fuck with him.

Just a little.

You can feel the tension building in the air as you move through your day, the little comments, the subtle glances. Nanami’s still trying to play it cool, but it’s clear. He’s a mess. You can see it in the way his eyes dart away when they linger on you a second too long. You can hear it in his voice when he answers you—a little too stiff, a little too forced.

So, you decide to push him.

You start small. Little things. Nothing too obvious, just a few well-placed gestures to see how far you can take him before he finally snaps.

You walk past his desk, and you’re definitely not trying to make sure your skirt hugs your hips just right. You bend over just so to grab a file from your bag, letting him get a full, uninterrupted view of your cleavage.

You’re certain he’s trying not to look—hell, you can practically feel him forcing his eyes up to the ceiling, but you know. You know he’s been watching.

When you straighten up, you glance at him out of the corner of your eye. He’s gripping his pen like it’s a lifeline, his knuckles pale, and his jaw is tight. You smirk, leaning in just a little closer.

“Need something, Nanami?” you ask, the words dripping with an edge of playful mischief.

He swallows, clearly doing everything in his power to maintain his usual stoic expression. “No,” he replies, too quickly, voice clipped. “I’m fine.”

You laugh lightly, keeping the tension alive as you pull away. You can practically feel the heat radiating off him. Oh, this is too good.

You don’t stop there, though. No, you want to see how much he can handle.

The next day, you make sure to wear a skirt that’s just a little tighter, just a little shorter than usual. The fabric clings to you in all the right ways, and when you walk past Nanami’s desk, you make sure to let your hip brush against the edge of his desk, just lightly enough to catch his attention.

As you bend down to grab a report from the printer, you give him the tiniest, most casual look over your shoulder. You’re sure you catch the way his eyes flicker down to your legs before he quickly looks away. Gotcha.

You straighten up, tossing your hair over your shoulder as you walk back past him, barely stopping yourself from humming in satisfaction when you feel his gaze linger on the curve of your back.

It’s all too easy.

And now? Now it’s time to turn it up a notch.

You’ve been toying with him for days now, watching as he stiffens every time you get a little too close, testing how much he can take before his composure cracks. You see the way his breath catches when you “accidentally” brush your arm against his as you pass by. He doesn’t say a word, but you know. You can see it in the way his eyes flash with something darker, something needy, before he shifts uncomfortably in his chair.

You know what you’re doing to him.

And you’re fucking loving it.

*-*

For two weeks, you’ve been shamelessly pushing Nanami to his limits.

You flirt, you linger, you brush your hand against his arm just a little too long, your skirts are shorter, tighter—designed to test the boundaries of his sanity.

And he notices.

Oh, he notices.

But what you don’t see is what’s going on beneath that perfectly calm, stoic exterior.

Because Nanami is losing his fucking mind.

Every look, every casual touch, every time you lean just a little too close—it’s like pouring gasoline on the fire inside him. He’s never been this affected by anyone, and now it feels like he’s constantly teetering on the edge of a cliff.

He tries—he really does—to keep his composure. He’s a professional, damn it. A man of control and discipline. But you? You’re unraveling him piece by piece.

*-*

She knows. Oh, God, she fucking knows. Why is she looking at me like that? Is she doing this on purpose? She’s doing this on purpose. That skirt—did it get shorter? That’s not appropriate for the office, right? Should I say something? No. No, shut up, you idiot. Just focus on your work. She’s walking toward you. Act normal. Act—

“Hey, Nanami, could you help me with something?” you ask, your voice sweet, with just the faintest hint of teasing.

His throat goes dry. He looks up, forcing his expression to remain neutral, professional. “Of course. What do you need?”

You lean closer, your hand brushing his shoulder as you point to your tablet. “I can’t figure out this formula. Can you show me?”

He doesn’t miss the way your perfume lingers in the air, soft and floral, and it’s driving him mad.

“Sure,” he says, his voice even, betraying nothing of the way his heart is hammering in his chest.

But inside? He’s screaming.

*-*

This is a problem. She’s doing it on purpose. She has to be. That look she gave me this morning? That wasn’t casual. No, that was calculated. She’s testing me, trying to see how far I’ll go. Does she know how much I—

He can’t even finish the thought. Because the truth is, his daydreams are becoming increasingly inappropriate, increasingly desperate.

He imagines you sitting on his lap in his office chair, your arms draped around his neck as you laugh at something he said. He imagines kissing you—soft at first, then deeper, more passionate, until he’s completely lost in you. He imagines everything he wants to do to you, and it’s enough to make him clench his fists under his desk, trying to hold himself together.

*-*

One afternoon, you’re standing next to his desk, going on about some report, and he can’t take it anymore. You’re wearing a dress that hugs you in all the right places, and the way you’re looking at him, with that mischievous little glint in your eye—it’s too much.

“Enough,” he says, his voice low, controlled.

You blink, taken aback. “What?”

He stands, towering over you, his jaw tight, his eyes fixed on yours. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“Do what?” you ask, feigning innocence, though the slight curve of your lips betrays you.

“This,” he says, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. “The teasing. The looks. The... whatever this is. If you’re trying to drive me insane, congratulations. You’ve succeeded.”

You grin, your eyes sparkling. “Oh? And what are you going to do about it?”

He hesitates for a fraction of a second, then takes a step closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “I’m going to ask you on a date.”

Your grin widens, and you cross your arms, leaning in just slightly. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” he says firmly, his confidence unwavering now. “Saturday. Seven o’clock. I’ll pick you up.”

You laugh, the sound light and genuine, and he feels his chest tighten all over again.

“Okay, Nanami. You’ve got yourself a date.”

*-*

The date is perfect.

Nanami shows up at your door precisely at seven, looking sharp in a navy suit and holding a small bouquet of red dahlias—your favorite. Dinner is a mix of light conversation and laughter, the two of you falling into an easy rhythm that feels like you’ve known each other forever.

When he walks you back to your apartment, the air between you is warm, charged with something unspoken.

“Want to come up?” you ask, your voice soft, your eyes searching his.

He hesitates for half a second before nodding. “Yes.”

*-*

Your apartment is cozy, filled with little touches that are unmistakably you. Nanami takes it all in—your bookshelves, your mismatched throw pillows, the faint scent of vanilla in the air.

But then you’re there, standing close to him, your eyes meeting his, and everything else fades away.

The first kiss is tentative, a soft meeting of lips that quickly deepens as he pulls you closer, his hands resting on your waist. You sigh against him, your fingers threading through his hair, and he groans softly, losing himself in the warmth of you.

“Nanami,” you murmur, pulling back just enough to catch your breath.

“I hate you,” he says, his voice low, a teasing smile playing at his lips.

You laugh, your forehead resting against his. “Do you?”

“Yes,” he whispers, pressing another kiss to your lips. “I hate the way you consume my thoughts. I hate the way you make me feel so... so...”

“Alive?” you offer, grinning.

“Exactly,” he murmurs, kissing you again, slower this time, like he’s savoring the moment.

Before things can go further, your cat jumps onto the couch, meowing loudly, and you both break apart, laughing.

“Excuse me,” Nanami says, his voice soft but firm as he picks up the cat and carries it to another room. “We need privacy.”

When he returns, you’re still laughing, but he silences you with another kiss, his hands cradling your face.

Between kisses, he whispers things that make your heart ache in the best way.

“You drive me crazy... but I don’t want it to stop. You’re everything I didn’t know I needed.”

By the time the night ends, you’re both a mess of tangled limbs and whispered confessions, and for the first time in weeks, Nanami feels like he’s exactly where he’s meant to be.

A/N: sorryyy, this might be ooc for him? im unsure...

Masterlist.

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euthymiya · 2 days ago

Text

greens — ft. wriothesley

includes: hints at wrio’s past and his mother that he reflects on ; established relationship ; gender neutral reader ; reader force feeds him veggies because i hc he hates them ; based kind of on this post

“Wriothesley,” you warn. He pauses, glancing at you cautiously at your tone.

“You sound…not happy,” he points out.

You raise a brow, unimpressed and unamused as you say, “Very astute observation.”

“What’d I do this time?” He pouts, slumping in his chair as he tries to sift through his brain for what he’s possibly done. He doesn’t have to think for too long, though—you answer for him instantly.

He almost wishes you never did.

“Finish your vegetables, Wriothesley,” you scold firmly, “you’re not leaving this table until you finish your greens—they’re good for you.”

Finish your vegetables, Wriothesley.

They’re good for you.

You’re not leaving this table until you finish.

There’s something eerily familiar about the words. He thinks he may have swallowed his vision—a chill seeps along his esophagus as he swallows thickly, the frost mixing with his blood as it runs cold and makes him stiffen. There’s ice in his veins. Frigid, harsh, cruel, and sharp.

He plays with his fork, not meeting your stare as he moves the leftover on dinner his plate around with a dazed look.

“Not hungry,” he mutters. “I’m full.”

“You never finish your vegetables,” you huff, “honestly, Wrio, you’re an adult, you know. Don’t be difficult about eating healthy.”

Everything you say sounds devastatingly familiar. His mother’s words take shape in your voice, molding in your throat and waltzing past your lips to haunt him. It’s your voice, sure, but they’re her words. Something about it makes him feel young again—but it’s not rooted in nostalgia. Not fond memories or amusing moments he can look back at and smile.

They taunt him, he thinks. The sweet smile and kind eyes, the firm tone and gentle strictness. His mother’s love was easy to believe. So painfully simple, it felt like she did it just as she breathed. Inhaling his presence and exhaling her care for him in a steady rhythm between expansion and contraction in her lungs.

Eat your vegetables, Wriothesley, she’d tell him. If you want to grow big and strong, you have to eat them.

He wonders now, as he stares at the remnants of dinner, if she’d ever cared for his growth because she cherished his wellbeing. If the thought of him being older, stronger, and maybe even wiser was something she was proud of. (He knows the answer. Deep, in the gaping hole of his chest, the knife twists into the raw edges of a still-healing wound.

He knows. Better than anyone, he knows she never cared. Not for anything other than growing him big and desirable so she could sell him off, offer him up like she saw him as though he was marketable. Like an animal, maybe. An item. A luxury, even.

But not a child. He was never a child in her eyes—simply always just a person who wasn’t grown yet.)

“Hey,” you snap your fingers in front of his face, pulling him out of his daze. Something in your face is softer now, flooded with concern, dripping with anxiety. “You okay?”

“Sorry,” he blinks, staring past your head and at the wall. His voice is soft and barely-there as he all but whispers, “just haven’t heard that in a while. I guess some things never change, huh? I was a handful then, and now, too.”

It’s a poor attempt at a joke. You see right through it—you always do. Some form of recognition and realization and maybe even heartbreak flashes in your eyes, and he hates it. Hates that he can never escape something as mundane as dinner being tainted with demons that make everything unholy. Past demons that shape shift into his present. His future.

His everything.

They reach to grab him, to drag him back into that dark, unforgiving hole in his mind where he can’t climb out. Can’t reach for any sort of leverage to pull himself out and find the light. But just before they can reach out and touch him, you get to him first—one hand grabbing his across the table as you smile softly.

“Well, there’s only one way to handle a stubborn child who doesn’t eat his vegetables.”

“What? Punish me?” He raises a brow. You pretend you don’t hear the underlying bitterness in his tone.

Instead, you reach your fork across the table and onto his plate, stabbing at the broccoli head left untouched before bringing it up to his lips and waving the fork in circular motions.

He scrunches his brows in distaste. You smile and fight back a giggle as you sing, “here comes the plane! Ready for landing in three, two, one…”

“Are you serious?” He snorts, equal parts amused and equal parts in disbelief.

You huff, glaring. “The plan is waiting to land, y’know.”

“Fine,” he sighs in defeat, letting you push the broccoli past his lips and into his mouth. He grumbles, chewing against his will as you watch him intently. “This is gross.”

“Well, one day, when you’re big and strong, you’ll thank me.”

“I’m already big and strong,” he insists, looking a little dramatically wounded.

“Bigger and stronger,” you correct. “You’ll thank me eventually.”

He already has plenty to thank you for, he thinks, eyes trained on you as the light casts over your features like heaven resides in your skin. But adding one more thing to the list is more than okay.

Better than okay, in fact.

So umm….idk. I’m sad about him :( also it’s 2 am and I’m sleepy and this is not proof read I’m sorry. It could be written better but I’m tiredddf

#—rivistyping!#wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x you #wriothesley fluff #wriothesley angst #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin fluff #genshin angst #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact angst

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meazalykov · 2 days ago

Text

play for the crowd

lauren james x english!influencer!reader : social media + fic

summary: a fake relationship never ends well.. or does it?

warnings: angst, very long chapter

for @pinkyqily + @jackiesunshines

“welcome back to ‘call her daddy,’ babes,” alex starts with her signature grin, leaning closer to the mic.

“today, we’ve got the it-girl of england sitting across from me. she’s hilarious, she’s fashionable, she’s friends with basically everyone worth knowing—please give it up for y/n!!”

you laugh softly, adjusting your seating in the red fancy chair.

“oh, stop it. you’re hyping me up too much.”

“listen, i only speak the truth on this podcast,” alex replies dramatically, hands gesturing like she’s addressing an audience of thousands.

“so, let’s just jump right in. your fashion—people are obsessed. i mean, half the girls listening are probably taking notes on your outfit right now as we speak.”

you smile, settling into your seat.

“i feel like my style is a bit all over the place, to be honest. one day i’ll be in baggy streetwear, the next i’m in a full-on luxury brand look, then i’m in some scandi-inspired minimalism, and before you know it, i’m frolicking in a meadow in a cottagecore dress. i just wear whatever’s cute.”

“so, you’re telling me your closet must look insane.” alex leans forward, clearly intrigued.

“oh, it’s a disaster,” you admit with a laugh.

“you know when people say, ‘if you can’t see it, you won’t wear it’? yeah, my clothes are in piles. i try to organize, but then i get new stuff, and it’s chaos all over again.”

“and yet you always look put together. how does that even work?”

“magic,” you joke, adjusting your oversized blazer.

“or maybe just panic dressing.”

alex grins.

“fair enough. okay, now—this is a call her daddy episode where i am the nosey host, so we have to get into your social life. you’ve got so many famous friends. who’s in your circle? who’s in the inner circle?”

you raise an eyebrow.

“you’re really trying to get the tea, huh?”

“always,” alex says without hesitation.

“give us something.”

you smirk.

“well, i’ve got a mix of people, you know? like, models, footballers, actors... it’s a weird little melting pot. i vibe with people who are chill and don’t take life too seriously.”

“what about jude bellingham?” alex’s grin widens, mischief sparkling in her eyes.

“you’ve been seen with him quite a bit. are we finally getting confirmation here?”

your laugh is immediate, and you shake your head as you roll your eyes playfully.

“oh my god, no no no absolutely not. jude is not my type at all.”

alex gasps theatrically.

“wait, hold on. you’re telling me jude bellingham, literal dreamboat that maybe has a million edits of himself, is not your type? do you know how many women would kill for that chance?”

“i’m sure they would,” you reply, still laughing.

“but, yeah, jude and i are just friends. strictly platonic. in fact, he’s hilarious.”

alex’s eyes narrow in mock suspicion.

“so, what is your type, then?”

you pause for a moment, knowing the question is loaded. you take a breath, then grin.

“well, just know that i don’t swing jude’s way.”

alex’s face lights up.

“ohhh, so you’re into women?” her excitement is palpable.

“yeah,” you say, nodding firmly.

“i mean, people have speculated for years, so… there you go. confirmed. i like women.”

“iconic,” alex replies, clapping her hands.

��this is huge!!!! so, do you have a partner? because i feel like everyone’s going to be dying to know now.”

a weight sinks in your chest, but you plaster on a smile. you hate lying, but this is part of the game.

“i do,” you say carefully, keeping your voice light.

“but i’m not spilling anything just yet.”

“oh, come on,” alex pleads.

“not even a little hint?”

you shake your head, laughing softly.

“nope. but trust me, everyone will know who she is eventually.”

alex groans in mock defeat, throwing her head back.

“you’re killing me, y/n. absolutely killing me.”

“i gotta keep some mystery, alex,” you tease.

“otherwise, what’s the fun?”

y/n.l/n

{tagged: yourbsf}

liked by lj10, samanthakerr20, and 101,927 others

y/n.l/n hello 2025

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y/nl/nluvr5 SO CUTE

yourbsf ily

ashley_lawrence10 pretty! 🤩

wosofan2719 why are all of the chelsea girls in her likes?? 🫣

user6282 I thought I was the only one who peeped

random12938 after her podcast with alex on friday, I am convinced y/n's girlfriend is known to the public already. you might be onto something since she is already close with english footballers

madelineargy 😍

~view all 2,039 comments~

you’re sitting cross-legged on your plush beige couch, the soft hum of a charli xcx playlist filling the quiet of your london apartment.

a steaming mug of tea sits on the coffee table, untouched, as you absently scroll through your phone. your eyes flick to the clock—just past noon. you’re waiting on lauren to send over the ticket details for tonight’s chelsea vs. arsenal match, the anticipated london derby.

your stomach twists slightly at the thought. not because of the game—you actually enjoy football. it’s the situation you’ve been thrown into that makes you uneasy.

a fake relationship. a pr stunt. your team’s bright idea to boost both your profiles. it’s not like you haven’t heard the horror stories: influencer friends venting about staged dates, awkward photoshoots, and scripted chemistry with people they couldn’t stand and hated.

you swore you’d never do something so fake, yet here you are.

your phone buzzes, snapping you out of your thoughts. it’s a message from lauren.

lauren: hey, just sent your name to the list—tickets will be at will call under 'guest of lj.' fancy title, right?

you smile faintly, typing back.

you: wow, i feel so important.

you joke. a reply comes almost instantly.

lauren: absolutely. “fake girlfriend to chelsea star.” major clout.

you laugh under your breath, appreciating her humor despite the absurdity of the situation.

you: i can’t lie.. this is all so ridiculous. have you done this kind of thing before?

lauren: nope. first time for me too. i feel like i should apologize in advance if i make this awkward.

you: i was just about to say the same to you. we’ll both be awkward… it’ll balance out.

lauren’s next text takes a second longer to come through.

lauren: for what it’s worth, i know this isn’t ideal. but i promise i’m not a complete nightmare in person like the media can paint me out to be.

you pause, rereading her message. there’s something about her tone—genuine, almost reassuring. however, you frown at the last part of her message. you have seen the tweets and post that have villainized her about certain situations that have happened between her and other players. you don’t play football, but you understand how intense things can be.

lauren’s genuine personality makes you think that this won’t be as terrible as you’ve been building it up to be.

you: well, if you’re not a nightmare, i guess i can survive one football match. or how ever many as i will need to go to for us. as long as i don’t get smacked with a football in front of your everyone or something.

lauren: if you do, we’ll just blame it on the opposing team.

you laugh again softly, shaking your head. her dry wit feels disarming, and you find yourself a little more curious about meeting her in person. maybe, just maybe, lauren will surprise you.

the cool london air nips at your cheeks as you step out of the car, pulling your brown puffer coat tighter around yourself. the excitement hums through the blue and red crowds gathered outside the chelsea stadium.

you glance up at the familiar facade, the blue and white banners waving proudly in the breeze. you’ve been here before, more times than you can count, but tonight feels… different.

you make your way through the gates, clutching the ticket lauren organized for you. your name’s on the guest list, which feels oddly official, even though you know it’s all just for show. navigating the stadium is second nature by now—you’ve been here for england matches, screaming alongside the fans, but you’ve never been here for chelsea.

the thought feels strange, almost disloyal, considering most of your friends are manchester (city and united) fans through and through.

their reactions flash through your mind, the way they nearly lost it when you casually mentioned you were going on a "date" with a chelsea player.

"you’re joking, right? chelsea? you can’t be serious," one had said, barely hiding their disbelief.

"wait, who is it?" another pressed, practically bouncing in their seat.

"don’t tell me it’s lucy bronze—no, wait, she just transferred here so i don’t think it's her."

you’d shrugged them off, offering nothing but a sly smile. “you’ll find out soon enough,” you’d teased, leaving them to spiral into speculation. you didn’t have the heart—or the nerve—to explain the truth yet.

not until you’d met lauren in person, not until you knew how this whole fake relationship would pan out.

as you approach the friends and family section, a subtle wave of nervousness rolls over you. this is it—the start of whatever chaotic media circus your teams have orchestrated. you take a deep breath, smoothing the invisible wrinkles on your coat, and step inside.

you wonder if people will question your presence in that section, why you were here by yourself with none of your friends to accompany you. however, you decide to take the next 90 minutes to collect your thoughts while lauren plays her match.

taking your seat, directly where you can see the middle of the pitch, the noise of the crowd fills your ears as you settle. your focus is razor-sharp. your eyes stay locked on lauren as she moves across the pitch with ease, weaving through arsenal's defense like it’s second nature.

the game already started three minutes ago.. and she’s good…really good. you knew that already, of course, seeing her play live is something else entirely.

you shift in your seat, trying to keep your expression neutral. the plan is simple: be here, watch the match, and appear supportive. it’s harder than you thought to ignore the weight of the cameras that occasionally pan away from the game and land on you instead.

you know what the headlines will say. you can already picture the tweets that are posting on twitter as your eye move along lauren’s body.

the speculation is what you’re here for. you tap your fingers against the armrest of your seat, trying to drown out the chatter in your head. this is all part of the plan, you remind yourself.

still, the questions buzzing online are ones you’re not ready to answer. not yet. this isn’t even real after all.

your eyes dart back to lauren. she’s on the ball again, making a sharp run from a sharp pass from lucy that sets up a near-perfect chance. the crowd erupts, and you find yourself caught between genuine admiration for her skill and the uncomfortable reality of why you’re here. with the cameras on you, though, you know better than to let anything too much slip.

you lean forward slightly, keeping your attention locked on lauren, as though she’s the only thing that matters in the moment.

the game ends with a 2-1 win for chelsea. you stand awkwardly by the fruit stand in the lounge room area, pretending to be invested in the arrangement of grapes and orange slices. the truth is, you feel out of place.

this isn’t your scene, and it shows. the other friends and family members seem at ease, chatting and laughing like they belong here. you, however, can’t shake the anxiety in your chest. of course, people recognize you—this is england, after all. your face is plastered on magazine covers and social media feeds. here, in this context, you feel more exposed than ever.

you shift your weight from foot to foot, glancing at the clock on the wall. lauren’s team has just wrapped up their post-match debrief, and any minute now, she’ll walk in. the thought doesn’t help your nerves; if anything, it makes them worse.

you haven’t even met her in person before, yet the entire world will soon think that she’s your girlfriend. the absurdity of it all threatens to make you laugh, but the knot in your stomach keeps you grounded.

you’re about to reach for a piece of pineapple when you feel a light touch on your shoulder. the sensation startles you, and you turn around quickly, almost dropping the toothpick you’re holding.

“i didn’t know you could be so shy, y/n,” lauren says, her tone teasing but warm. she’s standing there, freshly showered, her hair damp and swept back. the post-match attitude has faded, leaving her looking relaxed, but there’s a spark of curiosity in her eyes as she takes you in.

you smile nervously, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your blazer.

“well, i’m usually not,” you reply, your voice quieter than you intended.

“but this is… a little out of my comfort zone.”

lauren’s brows raise slightly, and she steps closer, her presence somehow steadying.

“really? you, out of your comfort zone? that’s hard to believe.”

you glance down, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.

“it’s different when it’s not my crowd. football people, you know? i’m more used to influencer events or fashion shows, not… this.”

lauren chuckles softly.

“well, for what it’s worth, you look like you fit right in. maybe too well. people are already whispering about you.”

“great,” you mutter, trying to keep the sarcasm light but unable to mask your discomfort.

“exactly what i wanted.”

she tilts her head, studying you for a moment.

“it’ll die down eventually,” she says, her tone more serious now.

“but i get it. it’s weird, isn’t it? pretending like this? its going to be worse once we have to tell the media.”

you let out a small laugh, more out of relief that she said it than anything else.

“weird doesn’t even begin to cover it,” you admit.

“i mean, we haven’t even met before today, and now the world will think that we’re madly in love. it’s ridiculous.”

lauren nods, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

“yeah, it is. but hey, we’re in this together, right?.”

you meet her gaze. she’s genuine, at least, and that’s something. “you’re right,” you say softly, your smile more genuine now.

“i guess we’ll figure it out.”

she grins, and the moment feels strangely natural despite the layers of pretense surrounding it. then she gestures toward the lounge area where the other players’ families are gathered.

“come on. let’s get you out of the corner. they’re going to think i’m a terrible girlfriend if i leave you standing here alone.”

you laugh, following her lead, the tension still present but slightly eased by her presence. it’s strange, walking beside her, knowing that the world will see something entirely different from what you feel inside.

for now, you push that thought aside and focus on surviving the night.

lj10

{tagged: y/n.l/n}

liked by y/n.l/n, lucybronze, and 131,216 others

lj10 recent

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random28383 IS THAT WHO I THINK IT ISSS??????

y/nl8vr MY BABY ON THE THIRD SLIDE

chelseafcwfan7 I KNEW IT WAS LAUREN THAT WAS DATING Y/N

❤️ *liked by author*

y/n.l/n 😘😘

user91010 oh that's not..

meazalykov ??

user91010 @/meazalykov i did not expect lauren and y/n no shade..

meazalykov well too bad..

lucybronze hard launch era

catarina_macario 😍😍

~view all 10,378 comments~

the days throughout the next few weeks blur together in a haze of carefully curated social media posts and staged interactions. every picture, every story, every comment feels like a chess move, calculated for the public eye.

by now, the world has accepted the narrative—lauren james and y/n l/n, england’s newest power couple.

behind the scenes, it’s a different story entirely. you and lauren barely talk, only exchanging the occasional text when coordinating your next “public moment.” it’s efficient, professional even, but cold.

you can’t help but feel the growing weight of the disconnect between the facade you show the world and the reality of your relationship. or lack thereof.

yet, something about lauren lingers in your mind. she’s kind in the brief moments you’ve interacted—genuine, with a subtle humor that catches you off guard. you’ve noticed how her quiet demeanor shifts when she’s irritated, her sharp gaze and tense shoulders mirroring your own tells when you’re frustrated.

it’s a trait that feels too familiar, like looking into a mirror.

sitting on your couch late one evening, your phone in hand, you scroll mindlessly through instagram. you pause looking at the instagram story you posted with lauren, staring at the image, at the way lauren’s hand rests casually on your back in the mirror picture. you’d both laughed during that shoot. the memory stirs something in your chest—a quiet ache you can’t quite place.

she’s fascinating in a way you didn’t expect. it’s not just her talent on the pitch or her rising fame; it’s the little things. the way her smile softens when she’s genuinely amused. the thoughtful pauses she takes before she speaks. the way she seems to carry a quiet confidence, even in the chaos of the public’s attention.

you shake your head, exhaling sharply. this is ridiculous, you tell yourself. the truth is, you want to know her… the real her, not the polished version you’ve pieced together through brief interactions and online impressions.

you open your messages, your thumb hovering over her name. for a moment, you consider texting her something—anything—to start a conversation. however, the thought of overstepping, of complicating an already convoluted situation, keeps you frozen.

with a sigh, you lock your phone and toss it onto the couch beside you.

whatever this is, whatever it could be, will have to wait. for now, you’ll stick to the plan, no matter how much your thoughts keep drifting back to lauren.

y/n.l/n

{tagged: lj10}

liked by lj10, lucybronze, and 211,746 others

y/n.l/n good evening

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❤️ *liked by author*

lj10 good evening 😍😍

lucybronze its 11:09am..

y/n.l/n again, good evening lucy bronze

lucybronze good evening ig 😒

catarina_macario 🤩

random2728 lj and y/n having a private but not secret relationship 🥰

user72929 LOVE

random2728 there's something off about this..

random10989 wym?

leahwilliamsonn 😍

~view all 4,290 comments~

the bar is calming, music thrumming in the background as laughter and chatter fill the air. the dim lighting casts a warm glow over the group, everyone mingling and sipping on their drinks.

you’re perched on a stool near the bar, glancing occasionally at lauren, who’s leaning against the counter, chatting easily with one of her teammates, millie. she looks relaxed, her posture casual, but there’s something about the way her eyes flick to you every so often that has your stomach in knots.

“another drink?” her voice cuts through the noise, her tone light but carrying just enough warmth to catch your attention.

you look up at her, a slight smile tugging at your lips.

“are you trying to get me drunk, lauren?”

she smirks, handing you the glass.

“maybe. or maybe i just want to make sure you’re having a good time.”

you take a sip, feeling the burn of the alcohol mixed with something sweeter—the way she’s looking at you.

“thanks,” you murmur.

“but i can return the favor. what are you drinking?”

“water,” she says simply, holding up her glass.

“staying hydrated.”

you tilt your head, studying her.

“water? not even one drink? you’re playing it too safe.”

she shrugs, a playful glint in her eyes.

“someone has to keep an eye on you.”

you laugh, the sound escaping before you can stop it.

“oh, so now you’re my babysitter?”

“if that’s what you need,” she fires back smoothly, her grin widening.

there’s a moment, a charged pause, where the noise of the bar seems to fade into the background. lauren’s gaze lingers on you, and you feel your cheeks heat under the intensity of it.

you lean in slightly, emboldened by the drinks and the energy between you.

“careful,” you tease, your voice dropping just enough to match the tension.

“someone might think you actually care.”

“and what if i do?” she counters, her tone light but her eyes unreadable.

you blink, caught off guard. the banter feels easy, natural, but there’s something underneath it that feels heavier—real. you search her face for a clue, but she keeps her expression steady, a flicker of amusement playing at the corners of her mouth.

“then i’d say you’re doing a great job convincing everyone here,” you say finally, trying to match her confidence, even as your heart races.

her lips curve into a smirk.

“convincing you, too?”

your breath catches, and for a split second, you don’t know what to say. she watches you, her expression calm but undeniably smug, as though she knows exactly the effect she’s having on you.

“maybe,” you admit, keeping your voice steady despite the way your pulse thunders in your ears.

she chuckles softly, the sound low and intimate, and it leaves you feeling both flustered and unmoored. then, as if sensing the moment tipping into something too real, she pulls back slightly, raising her glass of water in a mock toast.

“to good acting,” she says, her voice light but her eyes holding yours a beat too long.

you clink your glass against hers, your stomach twisting as you try to discern whether she’s teasing or deflecting.

as the night wears on, you can’t shake the way her words, her gaze, her presence—all of it—lingers in the back of your mind. was it an act? or was there something more beneath the surface? you don’t know, and the uncertainty gets at you in a way you didn’t expect.

your drink—something sweet and forgettable—sits untouched in front of you, the condensation pooling around the glass on the counter. the room feels alive as you watch your surroundings again, as lauren’s teammates and your friends fill the dance floor, laughing, swaying to the music, completely at ease.

you, however, feel like a misplaced puzzle piece.

you’re here for a purpose, after all—not to let loose, but to be seen. you and lauren were both instructed to attend, to sit in proximity long enough for someone to notice, snap a photo, and post it online. the public needed to see the happy “couple” out and about, living their seemingly charmed lives.

that was the plan. it always is. however, something about tonight feels off.. or maybe it’s you that feels off.

your eyes drift to lauren, who’s sitting a few stools away at this point, talking to sjoeke. lauren’s body language is relaxed, her posture casual, and she exudes that effortless charm you’ve come to associate with her. her laugh carries over the music, soft but genuine, and it’s disarming.

you’ve seen her in a dozen different settings by now—on the pitch, in interviews, even in those staged photoshoots your teams made you do together—but she always carries the same quiet confidence.

“why do i care so much about her flirting earlier?” the thought hits you suddenly, and you blink, startled by your own realization. you know you shouldn’t care. it’s not like there’s anything real between you two. this is business, nothing more.

you’re about to take a sip of your drink when movement catches your eye. a brunette woman, her steps uneven and her smile a little too wide, weaves her way through the crowd and makes a beeline for lauren.

she stops next to her, leaning on the counter for balance before sliding onto the stool beside her.

at first, you think nothing of it. people approach lauren all the time; it comes with the territory of her being a footballer.. then you notice the way the woman leans in, her body language screaming flirtation.

even over the music, you catch snippets of her words.

“i’ve been watching you all night,” the brunette says, her voice slurred but still clear enough to make your chest tighten.

you force yourself to look away, focusing instead on the condensation trailing down your glass. but your attention snaps back when you hear lauren laugh—a soft, polite chuckle that quickly morphs into something warmer. she’s flirting back.

it’s subtle, nothing overt, but it’s enough to make your stomach churn.

you grip the edge of your stool, willing yourself to stay calm. this doesn’t matter, you tell yourself. this isn’t real. lauren is a footballer—a brilliant, talented, and undeniably attractive one. of course people are drawn to her. of course she’s going to flirt back.

you remind yourself that you’re just the one her pr team picked for this charade. nothing more.

the tightness in your chest refuses to go away. watching lauren lean in closer to the brunette, her smile softening, feels like a punch to the gut and worse, it makes you question things you don’t want to question.

like why you even care in the first place.

the noise of the bar feels suffocating, and before you know it, you’re sliding off the stool and heading toward the bathroom. the music dulls as you push through the door, and the quieter space is a welcome reprieve.

then, your eyes land on zion and amber.

your two friends are tucked into a corner of the bathroom, lost in their own world. amber’s hands are tangled in zion’s hair, and zion’s lips are pressed firmly against amber’s. they don’t even notice you until the door clicks shut behind you.

zion pulls back first, her face flushed. “y/n?” she asks, stepping forward.

“you okay?”

you hesitate, the weight of the night pressing heavily on your chest. you don’t want to talk about it, but the lump in your throat makes it clear that you need to.

“not really,” you admit, your voice quieter than you intended.

amber straightens, exchanging a quick glance with zion before walking over to you.

“what’s going on?” she asks, concern evident in her tone.

just like that, everything comes pouring out. the fake relationship, the constant public scrutiny, the pressure to perform for an audience you didn’t ask for. you tell them about the brunette at the bar, how lauren flirted back, and how much it hurt even though it shouldn’t have. when you’re done, you feel a little lighter, but the knot in your chest remains.

zion crosses her arms, her brow furrowed in thought.

“y/n,” she says carefully, “are you… catching feelings for lauren?”

the question hangs in the air, heavy and uncomfortable. your first instinct is to deny it, to brush it off as ridiculous. but the truth gnaws at you, undeniable and unrelenting. you don’t say anything, which is answer enough.

amber steps closer, placing a hand on your arm. “look,” she says gently, “you need to figure this out. either you tell her how you feel and end this whole fake thing, or you set some serious boundaries before you get hurt.”

you nod slowly, the reality of her words settling over you like a weight. “yeah,” you murmur.

“you’re right.”

as you stand there, staring at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, the question lingers in your mind.

how did i even let this happen?

the days pass in a haze of avoidance and overthinking.

you bury yourself in work, content for tiktok, and anything else that keeps you busy enough to ignore the fluttering in your chest every time you think of lauren. it’s not hard to avoid her; after all, your only real interactions have been the orchestrated ones... lunches, coffee dates, the occasional walk in the park, all designed to feed the narrative.

without the need for those, you manage to keep your distance.

your phone buzzes occasionally with texts from lauren. nothing accusatory or probing, just polite questions about when your next outing is or casual jokes about how your pr teams must be getting impatient about when the next outing will be.

each message makes your stomach twist, the guilt poking at you. she doesn’t deserve to be avoided, but you can’t bring yourself to face her right now.

the bathroom conversation at the bar replays in your head on a loop. amber’s words, “set boundaries or tell her how you feel,” echo louder with each passing day. it feels like you’ve done neither, stuck somewhere in limbo, unsure of what to do.

all you know is that seeing lauren flirt with someone else hurt more than it should have. and now, it’s painfully clear why.

you caught feelings.

the realization had hit you like a train that night, leaving you panicked. you’ve spent years building walls around yourself, keeping relationships at arm’s length, unwilling to let anyone in after your last heartbreak. yet here you are, feelings growing for someone who isn’t even truly yours.

lauren’s face lingers in your mind far more often than you’d like. the chelsea player’s quiet humor, her thoughtfulness, the way her smile lights up when she’s genuinely happy.. it’s all etched into your brain, no matter how much you try to push it away.

the worst part? you know this is going nowhere. fake relationships don’t magically become real, and even if they did, there’s no guarantee lauren feels the same.

you sit on your couch, scrolling absentmindedly through your phone. the notifications pile up—comments on your latest post, messages from friends, an email from your team about your next public appearance.

you can’t bring yourself to focus on any of it. all you can think about is how scared you are that you’ve made a mistake, one that’s far too late to undo.

hours later.. around midnight.. you’re curled up on your couch, a soft blanket draped over your legs as you dig into a bowl of rice and chicken. the dim glow of the tv lights up the room, the suspenseful soundtrack of squid game filling the air.

it’s the perfect distraction, engrossing enough to keep your thoughts at bay, even if just for a little while.

then, a faint knock interrupts the quiet. at first, you assume it’s coming from the show, but when it happens again, you freeze. your eyes flick to the door. you weren’t expecting anyone, and frankly, you’ve been avoiding everyone for the last few days.

the knocking persists, steady and deliberate, until you reluctantly pause the show and get up.

your heart races as you peek through the peephole. the sight of lauren standing there, hands shoved into the pockets of her hoodie, sends your mind spiraling.

what is she doing here? how did she get my address?

you open the door slowly, your confusion evident.

“lauren?” you ask, your voice wary.

“what are you doing here? how did you even know where i live?”

she offers a small smile, almost sheepish.

“hey. i asked madeline. hope that’s okay.”

you step aside, letting her in despite your confusion at why she would go so far to ask your mutual friend what your address was. lauren looks around, her eyes landing on the paused screen of squid game.

“season two?” she asks, nodding toward the tv.

“is it any good? haven’t had the chance to watch it yet because of training.”

“so far, yeah,” you reply, your tone cautious.

“like the first season. but… why are you here?”

she turns to face you, her expression soft but serious.

“i came to talk to you. you’ve been avoiding everyone.. me included.. and it’s not like you. i just want to make sure you’re okay.”

you try to brush it off, waving a hand dismissively.

“i’m fine. just needed some space, that’s all.”

lauren doesn’t budge. she crosses her arms, tilting her head slightly.

“come on, y/n. i know something’s wrong. you can’t just disappear like that and expect no one to notice.”

you let out a dry laugh, shaking your head.

“what does it matter? you probably have a real date to get to or something.”

she frowns, her brows knitting together.

“what are you talking about? i don’t have a real date. why would you say that?”

your heart pounds in your chest, but you push forward, your voice tinged with frustration.

“do you have a real partner, lauren? someone you’re seeing while we’re doing this… this fake thing?”

lauren’s confusion deepens.

“what? no. where is this even coming from?”

the tension boils over, and before you can stop yourself, the words spill out.

“because it’s driving me insane, lauren! this whole fake relationship thing.. it’s messing with my head. i can’t stop thinking about you, and it’s not just for the cameras or the public or whatever. i caught feelings, okay? within these few months of pretending to be your girlfriend, i somehow…. god, i don’t even know. i like you and i know that’s not part of the plan, so if this makes things too complicated, we can stop. i get it.”

the room goes quiet, your words hanging heavily in the air. lauren’s eyes widen, and for a moment, you brace yourself for rejection. but then her expression shifts… softening into something that looks like relief.

“wait,” she says, stepping closer.

“are you serious?”

you nod, your heart in your throat.

“yeah. and if that’s too much, just say the word, and we can call this off. i’ll tell the pr team about the situation myself.”

lauren shakes her head quickly. “no, no. you’re not calling anything off.” her voice is steady, her gaze locked onto yours.

“if we’re going to stop the fake relationship, it’s only because we’re starting a real one.”

your brows knit together, confusion washing over you.

“what are you saying?”

she takes a breath, her lips curving into a small, genuine smile.

“i’m saying that i’ve caught feelings too. you’re kind, funny, and beautiful.. completely yourself no matter the situation. you’re the kind of person who i love spending my time with, even for something as ridiculous as a fake relationship, this has been the best part of my year.”

you stare at her, your brain struggling to catch up.

“you… like me?”

“yeah,” she says, her smile widening.

“i like you, y/n. for real, nothing fake.”

the tension in your chest finally loosens, replaced by something warm and overwhelming.

“so, what do we do now?”

lauren grins, her expression brighter than you’ve ever seen it.

“first, i’m calling the pr team and telling them we’re done with this fake stuff. after that, we’ll figure it out. together.”

you let out a breathy laugh, relief washing over you.

“okay. yeah. let’s do that.”

she glances at the tv, her grin turning playful.

“before that, can we watch the rest of this? i’ve been meaning to start season two.”

you laugh, gesturing to the couch.

“sure, but you’re sharing my blanket.”

lauren plops down beside you, pulling the blanket over her legs as the two of you settle in. for the first time in weeks, everything feels right.

also real..

masterlist

happy very early birthday aj 😆

#lauren james #lauren james x reader #woso fanfics #woso community #woso x reader #chelsea fcw #engwnt #lucy bronze

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viasdiary · 2 days ago

Note

luigi’s always taking advantage of us in bed but when do we take advantage of him?? #usehim

love this prompt i definitely need to write more sub luigi fics

☆ please (luigi mangione x reader)

☆ warnings: rough sex, overstim, crying, begging, corruption, noncon if you squint?

☆ reader takes luigi's virginity and rides him until he's crying and begging

you’re sprawled out on the couch, half-watching tv, but your attention keeps drifting to luigi. he’s sitting beside you, one leg casually tucked under him, his broad shoulders filling out his black t-shirt. the shirt fits him just right—snug across his shoulders, stretching slightly over his chest and arms. it’s simple, but it’s working. the gray sweats he’s wearing hang low on his hips, letting the band of his boxers peek out. his posture's stiff as he nervously fiddles with his phone. the two of you have hung out plenty of times before, but tonight feels different, there's some tension in the air, some feeling you can’t quite shake.

you’ve noticed it for a while now: how he looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention, how his smile lingers a little longer than it should. you know he's into you. and honestly? the fact that he's a little clueless about what to do with that attraction just makes it more fun.

"so," you begin, glancing over at him with a smirk, "you ever hooked up with anyone at one of your little frat parties?"

he pauses, clearly not expecting you to ask that, then chuckles nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

“uh, i mean… yeah, i’ve... hooked up with people, just not, like... that much, y'know?” he looks down at his phone, like maybe he can escape the conversation if he stares hard enough.

you let the silence hang for a moment, taking a calculated breath before leaning in slightly, watching the way his body tenses. "really? i find that hard to believe, especially for a guy as handsome as you," you say, your voice low.

he glances at you quickly, his eyes darting away when they meet yours. it’s cute—his usual cocky frat boy act falling apart under your attention.

“i mean, i’ve just been busy with school, that's all. not like i’m... avoiding it,” he mutters, but you can tell by the way he avoids your gaze that there’s more to it than just being "busy."

you smile knowingly, then shift just a little closer on the couch, your knee brushing his. it's subtle, but you notice the way he freezes at the contact. "y'know," you say casually, your voice low, "if you haven't had a real hookup, maybe i should, like, show you what you’re missing."

luigi's eyes widen, his gaze snapping to yours. for a moment, he seems frozen, processing your words. his brows press together a little. "and what exactly would that entail?"

you lean in closer, your lips nearly brushing his ear. "well," you murmur, "i could start by showing you how to properly kiss someone." your hand slides onto his thigh, feeling the warmth of his skin through the thin material of his sweats. "then maybe we could explore a few... other things."

luigi swallows hard, his breath catching. you can feel the tension in his body, the way he's holding himself back.

"i, uh... i think i'd like that," he manages to say, his voice barely above a whisper.

you pull back slightly, meeting his eyes. there's a mix of desire and nervousness in his gaze that sends a thrill through you. you decide to take charge, knowing he needs a little push.

"come here," you say softly, cupping his face with your free hand. you guide him closer, feeling his warm breath against your lips. pausing just a tiny bit away from his face, you let the anticipation build for a moment before closing the distance.

the kiss starts gentle, almost tentative. luigi's lips are soft, and you can taste a hint of the beer he'd been drinking earlier. as you deepen the kiss, you feel him relax into it, his hand coming up to rest on your waist.

you break away briefly, watching his face. his eyes are closed, lips slightly parted, a flush spreading across his cheeks. when his eyes flutter open, they're dark with want. "how was that?” you ask, grinning "so good." luigi's voice comes out barely a whisper. his eyes are still locked on yours, filled with a mixture of awe and growing desire. you can't help but feel a surge of satisfaction at his reaction. "oh, we're just getting started," you murmur, running your fingers through his soft curls. he leans into your touch.

"show me more," he breathes, and the vulnerability in his voice sends a shiver down your spine.

you shift, swinging one leg over to straddle his lap. his hands instinctively move to your hips, gripping tightly as if to steady himself. you can feel the heat radiating from his body, the slight tremor in his fingers.

"you’re so shaky," you whisper, placing your hands on his chest. you can feel his heart racing beneath your palms. as you sit in his lap you can feel him hardening beneath you.

“are you already fucking hard?” you scoff, a smug grin playing on your lips. he can’t even look you in the eyes. “sorry,” he mutters. you look down at him,

"that’s right." you say, your voice husky. you grind down against him slightly, eliciting a soft gasp.

luigi's grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging into your skin. you can see the internal struggle playing out on his face—the desire to let go warring with his nervousness.

you lean in, trailing kisses along his jaw. "relax," you murmur against his skin. "just feel."

his head falls back, exposing the column of his throat. you take the opportunity to nip and suck at the sensitive skin there, leaving a mark that will be visible tomorrow. the thought of everyone seeing it, knowing what you did, sends a thrill through you.

luigi lets out a low moan, his hips bucking up involuntarily. "god," he breathes.

“i've never done this before, i'm sorry” he says, looking up at you with his wide brown eyes. he says it so desperately, and you know in that moment, you need to fucking ruin him.

"shh," you soothe, cupping his face in your hands. "i'm gonna take care of that."

his eyes search yours, vulnerability and trust shining in them. you lean in, capturing his lips in a deep, passionate kiss. as you explore his mouth with your tongue, you feel some of the tension leave his body.

your hands slide down his chest, feeling the defined muscles beneath his shirt. when you reach the hem, you break the kiss just long enough to murmur, "can i take this off?"

luigi nods eagerly, lifting his arms to help you remove the shirt. as it comes off, you can't help but admire his toned physique. your fingers trace the lines of his abs, feeling him shiver beneath your touch.

"you're fuckin’ perfect," you breathe, leaning in to press kisses along his collarbone. he's unbearably hard beneath you and you can feel his erection pressing into your inner thigh. you grind down against him again, relishing the way his breath hitches.

"please," luigi whimpers, his hips jerking up to meet yours.

"please what?" you tease, nipping at his earlobe. "use your words, lu." he swallows hard, his cheeks flushing an even deeper shade of red.

"i... i need..." he trails off, struggling to articulate his desires. you decide to take pity on him.

"you want me to touch you?" you ask, your hand hovering just above the waistband of his sweats.

luigi nods frantically. "yes, god yes." he breathes.

slowly, torturously, you slide your hand beneath the fabric. when your fingers wrap around his length, luigi lets out a strangled moan, his head falling back against the couch. he's already dripping precum you stroke him slowly, savoring the way he trembles beneath you.

his cock is hot and heavy in your hand, pulsing with each movement. you use his precum to slick your motions, making each stroke smoother.

"fuck," luigi gasps, his hips bucking into your touch. his eyes are squeezed shut, lips parted as he pants heavily.

you lean in, pressing open-mouthed kisses along his neck.

"does that feel good, baby?" you murmur against his skin.

he nods, unable to form words. his hands grip your hips tighter, fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks.

you speed up your strokes, twisting your wrist on the upstroke in a way that makes him cry out. "you're so responsive," you mutter, nipping at his earlobe. "i love it."

“i'm close,” he whines.you stop abruptly, pushing off his chest to look down at him. he’s looking up at you, wide eyed and needy.

“why'd you stop?” he practically begs.

“did i say you could fucking finish?” you chuckle cruelly.

“please,” he whines, his voice shaky.

“please let me finish,” he groans.

"anything you want, luigi" you coo, sliding down his lap and kneeling on the floor in front on the couch, both your hands planted on his thighs. you drag his sweatpants and boxers down to his ankles, letting his erection spring free, his tip pink and swollen, glistening with precum.

"i'll let you finish," you say, taking his length in your hand before guiding the tip into your mouth. he's completely overwhelmed by the sight of you stroking him, taking him in your mouth and sucking softly.

"fuck," he breathes, his head falling back against the couch. his hands grasp at your hair as you slide your mouth down around his cock. you let him hit the back of your throat as you look up at him. you move up and down, the sound of you gagging on his thick cock fills the room.

he's lost in the sensation, his hips thrusting forward into your mouth, trying desperately to chase his release. he's so close, his entire body tense.

"fuck, please," he pleads, his voice strained. "let me cum, please." you pull off him, stroking him hard and fast. "beg for it," you tease, a smirk playing on your lips.

"please," luigi begs, his voice cracking. "i need to cum, please let me cum." you continue to stroke him, feeling his cock throb in your hand.

"let go, baby" you murmur, leaning forward to swirl your tongue around his tip.

"oh, fuck" he moans, his hips jerking erratically as his orgasm hits him.

you swallow down every drop of his cum, continuing to stroke him through his climax. he's gasping and shuddering, his fingers tangled in your hair.

when he's finally spent, you sit back, wiping the corner of your mouth with your thumb.

"you felt so fucking good," he pants, a smile spreading across his face.

"oh, you thought we were done?" you stifle a laugh.

"i'm nowhere near fuckin' finished with you." you say, his smile fading as you pull down your skirt and panties before climbing back onto his lap.

"but i just finished-" he says softly before you cut him off.

"you didn't think i was done with you did you? i haven't even come yet, luigi" you say, guiding his hand between your legs.

"just touch me," you command, pressing his hand firmly against your dripping cunt. he can feel how wet you are, how much you want him. he has no idea what to do, his fingers fumbling around between your thighs, his hand shaky.

"god, you're fucking useless." you mutter, gripping his cock firmly, slowly guiding him towards your entrance.

"you have no idea how much i've thought about this." you whisper, almost to yourself, slowly lowering yourself down on him, inch by inch.

you let out a low moan as you sink down fully, taking him all the way inside of you. he lets out a sharp gasp, his hips bucking up involuntarily. he looks up at you with those sweet brown eyes, his lips slightly puffy from being kissed.

"god, you're fucking perfect" you moan, your head tilting back in pleasure as you start to move. he's still overwhelmed by the new sensations, his eyes squeezing shut as you ride him.

"god, it's too much" he gasps, his fingers digging into you. you're lost in the feeling of him inside you, filling you up.

"i know, baby, i know." you mutter, moving more roughly. he moans with every movement, his hips thrusting up to meet yours. he's completely under your spell, his body responding to yours.

"fuck, i'm close" he moans, his fingers digging into your hips.

"not yet," you order, grabbing a fistful of his hair and yanking his head back.

"i can't take it," he whines, looking up at you once again, his eyes glassy, tears hanging from his dark eyelashes.

"shut the fuck up and take it." you groan, picking up the pace. he cries out as you ride him harder and faster, the sound of your bodies colliding echoing through the room.

"god, you feel so good," you moan, leaning down to kiss him deeply. you break the kiss, staring at his pretty face. he's all fucked out and crying,

"you're being so rough," he sobs.

"cum for me," you murmur, feeling your own orgasm approaching.

"god, i'm close" he manages to say, his voice strained and shaky.

"cum." you respond harshly, riding him harder.

he lets out a loud groan as he cums inside you, his cock twitching inside you. the feeling of him spilling inside you pushes you over the edge, and you cry out, your walls clenching around him.

as you both come down from your highs, the realization of what just happened starts to sink in. luigi's gaze falls away from yours, and he lets his head rest against the couch.

"you okay?" you ask, a little out of breath.

"yeah, just... a lot." he sniffles.

#luigi mangione #luigi mangione smut #luigi mangione x reader #luigi mangione x yn #luigi mangione fanfic #real person fiction #luigi mangione imagine #luigi mangione fanfiction

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mofongomuncher · 3 days ago

Text

𝙏𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 [!𝙎𝙈𝙐𝙏¡]

(Ekko X Reader)

❥ cast : ! Ekko and Reader ¡

Ekko stood at the far end of his room, his back to you, arms resting on the edge of his table. He was awfully quiet, his chest rising and falling with unspoken thoughts.

You watched him from a far, leaning against the doorway. His shoulders were tense, muscles coiled as if he were carrying more than he'd ever admit. But that was Ekko, wasn't it?

"You're brooding again..." you said, your voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

He turned his head slightly, a small smirk tugged at his lips. "And you're lurking again..Guess we're both predictable."

You stepped into the room, your boots scuffing softly against the floor. The air between you two felt electric, like it always did—charged with tension that neither of you could name, let alone tame.

"Still working on that time device?" you asked, gesturing to the intricate gears and wires scattered across the bench.

He turned fully to face you, leaning back against the table. His eyes—sharp, brown, trailed over you for a moment longer than necessary. "Nah.." he said, his voice low, steady. "That's on pause for today. Had other things on my mind."

You raised an eyebrow. "Hm, Like what?"

His smirk deepened, but it wasn't playful this time. "You. Of course.."

The single word hung in the air, heavy and deliberate. It sent a rush through you, but you didn't flinch. You never did—not in front of Ekko.

Instead, you took another step closer.

"Huh, I don't remember giving you permission to think about me?" you teased, crossing your arms.

Ekko tilted his head, his expression softening. "I didn't think I needed permission"

Your breath hitched, but you masked it with a quiet laugh. "Is that so?"

"Yeah," he said, pushing off the table and closing the distance between you in two slow, deliberate steps. "And you know what? I think you like it don't you!The way you show up, act like you're just here to check on me...But it's more than that, isn't it?"

His words were careful, measured. You felt the heat rise in your chest, spreading through your body like wildfire. He was too close now, the earthy scent of his was now filling your senses.

"You've got a big ego for someone who spends most of his time hiding in here." you shot back.

He chuckled, the sound low and rough. "Yeah maybe...But I'm not wrong, am I?"

Your silence was answered enough, and he knew it. His hand came up, his rough fingers brushing lightly against your jaw. The touch was barely there, but it sent a shiver down your spine. You didn't pull away.

You couldn't.

"You make it hard to stay focused, you know that right? " he murmured, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Every time you walk in, it's like... nothing else even matters anymore."

The weight of his confession settled over you, heavy and intoxicating. You searched his face, looking for any hint of deception, but there was none.

Ekko never played games—not like this.

"You really are trouble aren't you Ekko.." you said softly, the words more for yourself than him.

He smiled, a real one this time, warm and genuine. "So are you huh.."

His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer until there was nothing but the sound of your breaths mingling, the heat of his body against yours. When his lips finally met yours, it wasn't gentle. It was raw, a clash of need and want and months of unspoken tension.

You melted into him, your hands finding their way to his chest, his arms, gripping the fabric of his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you grounded. He deepened the kiss, his other hand finding your waist, pulling you even closer.

When you two finally broke apart, gasping for air, his eyes focused on yours, his breath warm against your skin.

"Tell me you don't feel it Y/N.." he whispered, his voice almost desperate.

You swallowed hard, your hands still pressed against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palms.

"I can't" you admitted, your voice barely audible.

His grip on you tightened, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your knees weak. "Then don't push me away."

"I'm not," you said, shaking your head. "But I'm hoping you can handle all of this."

He smiled at your comment, that same reckless, confident grin that made your heart race.

Before you could say anything about his silence, his hands slid lower, gripping your waist. His eyes searched yours, waiting for the moment you might pull away. But you didn't. You leaned into him instead, giving him silent permission to keep going.

"I feel like you're testing me now.." he murmured, his voice low and rough as his lips brushed the shell of your ear. "Like you want to see just how far I'll go."

Your breath hitched as his hands tightened, pulling you flush against him. You felt the tension radiating off his body, the restraint he was barely holding onto. You could feel it too—an ache building in the pit of your stomach, something you'd ignored for too long.

"how far will you go, Ekko?" you whispered.

He exhaled a soft laugh, the sound laced with both amusement and desire. "Far enough to make you forget how much you like to act all tough." he said, tilting your chin up with a single finger. "You talk all big, but you and I both know you've been waiting for this."

You didn't answer—not with words. Instead, you grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down to you, crashing your lips against his. He groaned against your mouth, the sound deep and primal as his hands roamed your body, exploring every curve like he'd been imagining this for months.

The kiss grew heated, messy. He guided you back until your hips hit the edge of the workbench, and in one swift motion, he lifted you onto it. His hands moved to your thighs, spreading them apart as he stepped between them, pressing himself against you in a way that made your head spin.

"You drive me crazy, you know that?" he said against your lips, his voice rough with restraint as his fingers brushed the bare skin of your legs.

"Good.." you whispered, your nails digging into his shoulders as you pulled him closer. "Now you know how I feel."

He chuckled, his lips trailing down your neck, leaving a path of open-mouthed kisses that made your breath hitch. His teeth grazed your skin, just enough to send a shiver down your spine.

His hands moved with purpose, gripping your thighs and pulling you further into him. The heat between you was so overwhelming, as his lips returned to yours—capturing you in a kiss. You were his now, and he was going to make sure you knew it.

With a low growl, Ekko pulled away just long enough to guide you back, his hands never leaving your body as he laid you gently on his bed. The room felt smaller, the air thick with tension, every heartbeat quickening. His eyes never left yours as he hovered above you. His hands brushed the strand of hair from your face, his lips grazing your cheek before pressing a soft kiss.

"And I thought you were all talk.." he muttered, his voice rough, but a faint smirk played on his lips. "Guess I was wrong, hm."

You raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile curling on your lips. "You think I'm just talk?" you whispered, your fingers trailing down his chest, moving deliberately slow. "Maybe, I'm just making you work for it."

You watched as his confidence didn't sway, but there was something in his eyes—something more—that told you this game wasn't as easy for him as he was letting on. Smirking, you slid your hands down his chest to his waist, and with a deliberate movement, you pushed him back onto the bed. He didn't resist, and as he fell back, you crawled over him, straddling him with a mischievous grin.

"Wow, would you look at that?" you teased, your fingers lightly brushing over his chest as you leaned down, your lips hovering just above his. "Who's all tough now, hm?"

His breath hitched slightly, but his gaze remained focused. "You really think laying me down means you've got control here?" he asked, his voice smooth, but there was an edge to it that let you know he wasn't entirely sure about where this was going.

"Mmm, Maybe." you purred, leaning in just enough to brush your lips against his.

You lowered yourself, your lips trailing down his neck as you ground your hips against him, teasing him just enough to make his restraint snap. His hands gripped the sheets beneath him, and you could feel the tension building again, both of you barely keeping control.

"What are you trying to do here doll.." he muttered, but you could hear the hint of amusement in his voice.

You pulled away, hovering over him with a wicked grin. "Mmmm" you hummed, your voice soft but full of challenge "I'm just trying to see how you'll react to me.."

The words hung in the space between you, charged and deliberate, and you watched as his throat tried working to swallow whatever response he thought might be appropriate. But there wasn't one.

Not now.

Not when you could see the flicker of tension in his eyes, the way they darted from your lips to yours, searching for permission, for confirmation, for something—anything. But you weren't giving him answers.

You were giving him a challenge.

His hands finally moved, as they found their place on your hips, his touch firm. You felt the heat of his palms through the thin fabric of your clothes, and it sent a shiver racing up your spine. Still, you didn't move. Not yet. You wanted him to squirm a little longer, to feel the weight of your patience pressing down on him, reminding him just how much control you had in this moment.

When you finally leaned in, it wasn't sudden or rushed. It was deliberate, calculated, your lips brushing against his in a slow, teasing kiss that left him gasping for more. His grip tightened on your hips, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you, no room for hesitation. He kissed you back with a desperation that surprised even himself, his mouth moving greedily against yours as if he couldn't get enough.

It was exactly what you wanted.

You pulled back slightly, breaking the kiss just long enough to catch your breath, and grinned down at him. "Wow, took you long enough." you murmured, your voice thick with satisfaction.

He let out a shaky laugh, his hands sliding up your sides until they reached the hem of your shirt. "You really are something else, you know that?" he said, his tone equal parts exasperation and awe.

"And yet..." you trailed off, arching an eyebrow as you shifted your weight, grinding against him just enough to make him groan.

"You can't seem to resist me hm?."

That did it. His hands were under your shirt in an instant, pushing the fabric up and over your head in one swift motion. The cool air hit your skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat of his gaze, taking in every inch of exposed flesh. You didn't give him time to linger, though. Leaning down, you captured his lips again, your tongue sliding against his in a way that left no doubt about what you wanted—what you needed.

His hands were everywhere all at once, exploring your body with a hunger that matched your own. You could feel his cock pressing against you, hard and insistent, and it only fueled the fire burning in your veins. Shifting your hips, you grind against him again, earning another desperate moan that vibrated against your lips.

Breaking the kiss, you sat back just enough to take in the sight of his boner beneath you—his cheeks flushed, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his eyes dark with need. "You look so good like this Ekko" you said, trailing a finger down the center of his chest.

"Helpless. And Desperate."

He chuckled weakly, shaking his head.

"You're enjoying this way too much."

"Oh, I so am" you agreed without hesitation, your grin widening as you leaned down to nip at his neck.

"Don't act like you aren't too."

His breath hitched as your teeth grazed his skin, his hands tightening on your waist. "I am..." he managed, his voice strangled.

You smirked against his neck, kissing the spot you'd just bitten before sitting up again. Your hands went to the button of his jeans, and you made quick work of it, tugging them down his legs along with his boxers. He hissed as the cool air hit his sensitive skin, but the sound turned into a groan when your hand wrapped around his thick cock, stroking him slowly, teasingly.

"F-Fuck.." he muttered, his hips jerking up into your touch.

"Patience Ekko.." you scolded, squeezing lightly just to watch him squirm.

He groaned again, but he didn't argue. Instead, his hands found their way to your thighs, gripping them tightly as if he needed something to anchor him. You took your time, exploring every inch of him with your hands, your lips, your tongue, until he was trembling beneath you, his body taut with restraint.

Finally, when you couldn't take the anticipation any longer, you lifted yourself up, removing your pants, tossing it across the room—and positioning yourself over him. His eyes locked onto yours, filled with a mixture of longing and disbelief, and you smiled softly. "Ready?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded wordlessly, his hands moving to your hips to guide you. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, you lowered yourself onto him, feeling every inch of him stretch and fill you. It was so overwhelming, the sensation so intense that it nearly stole your breath away. By the time you were fully seated, your thighs pressed against his, you were both panting.

For a moment, neither of you moved. You simply stayed there, enjoying in the connection, the closeness, the way he seemed to fit perfectly inside you. Then, with a soft exhale, you began to move.

It started slow, a gentle rocking of your hips that drew a low moan from him, his fingers digging into your skin. But it didn't stay slow for long. The pace quickened, your movements becoming more urgent, more desperate, as the pleasure built within you. His hips met yours with every thrust, driving him deeper, harder—until the room was filled with the sounds of your mingled gasps and moans.

You could feel it building, that coil of heat tightening in your belly, threatening to snap with every movement. Overwhelmed by the sensation, you dropped your forehead to his, your breath coming in short, ragged pants. "Don't stop baby" you pleaded, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heartbeat.

His hands gripped you tighter as he drove into you with renewed fervor

His hands roamed over your body, tracing the curve of your spine, gripping your hips, sliding up to cup your breasts. His thumbs brushed over your nipples, sending jolts of pleasure through you, and you arched into his touch, a moan escaping your lips.

"Look at you.." he murmured, his voice rough. His words sent a flush of heat through you, and you increased your pace, your hips rocking faster, harder, chasing that delicious tension building low in your belly. His hands moved to your hips, guiding you, helping you find that perfect rhythm that had both of you gasping for air.

The room was filled with the sounds of your breathing, the slap of skin against skin, the low, guttural noises neither of you could hold back. His eyes never left yours, the connection between you as intense as the physical pleasure coursing through your bodies. You could feel yourself tightening around him, the coil of pleasure winding tighter and tighter, threatening to snap.

"Fu—fuck d-don't stop..." you gasped, your nails digging into his chest as you rode him harder, faster, chasing that sweet oblivion. He obliged, his thrusts meeting yours, each one driving you closer to the edge. And then, with a cry, you shattered—cumming all over his warm dick, your body convulsing around him. He followed seconds later, his own release triggering another spike of ecstasy that left you both trembling, clinging to each other as the aftershocks rippled through your bodies.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. You simply stayed there, breathing in sync, basking in the glow of what you'd just shared. Then, with a soft laugh, you leaned down to press a kiss to his lips, slow and tender.

"Let's go again." you hummed, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heartbeat.

"....Guess you can't get enough of me, huh?" he murmured, voice low as he tried to catch his breath, yet the tension in his tone made it clear he was just as eager as you.

Jeezussssss

Check out my Ekko one shots on Wattpad for more stories!! :3

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urmum-lovesme · 16 hours ago

Text

Angel Baby - Rafe Cameron x Kook!reader P10

pairing: Best Friend!Rafe Cameron x Kook!Best-Friend!reader

summary: Rafe and Reader have known each other since kindergarten, always side by side, the king and princess of Figure 8. So why now does he start feeling different towards her, when all she's ever been is his best friend?

a/n: I know the last chapter was pretty bad, but um, it gets worse. I'm sorry but it can only get worse before it gets better and I needed a way to give our man his redemption (it's not like a real redemption though). This is a pretty intense chpt and I won't lie but it took me a while because I didn't really know how to lay it out... but it's here noowwww. It's Halloween and Y/n my baby you look so cute in your outfit but I'm sorry I had to do it for the plot of the series :(

!!! TW THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SA AND NON-CON !!!

please don't read it if that triggers you.

warnings: ANGST dark content, alcohol, smoking, partying, extreme violence, non-con, sa, injury.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Princess : I don’t know, Top.

T-man : C’monnnnn you haven’t been to a party in forever.

T-man : People are talking that the kook princess is losing her game.

Princess : Fuck people.

T-man : Alright, alright, but you could still get dressed up in that cute outfit what was it again

Princess : A dog?

Princess : A deer you asshole.

T-man : Right

T-man : So you coming or not

Princess : Who else is going

T-man : Me

Princess : …

Princess : Obviously

T-man : Okay diva

Princess : Stop that’s my thing :(

T-man : Okay me kelce cooper maybe sarah and her pogues amelie you like her don't you

Princess : Yh she's sweet

T-man : Some more of your gfs or whatever

T-man : Some of the guys from the country club

Princess : Maybe i’ll come

T-man : Rafe’s coming

Princess : I in fact will not be coming

T-man : Y/n

T-man : Can you please talk it out

Princess : What is there to talk about topper?

T-man : He's been so miserable

T-man : Like a kicked puppy

Princess : I don't care topper

Princess : I really don't

T-man : You and I both know you can’t just walk away from him like that

Princess : Well you clearly don't know me then?

T-man : I’m just asking you to come

T-man : For me.

Princess : For you?

T-man : Yes???

T-man : Let’s just have a normal night you don’t even have to talk to him if you don’t want to.

T-man : Just come and enjoy yourself.

Princess : Fine I'll think about it

T-man : Great

T-man : Can't wait to see your dog costume

Princess : *deer

T-man : Yes ma’am

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two months had passed since their argument and Y/n hadn't talked to Rafe ever since the night at the party. She refused to, she didn’t even know what to say to him.

She had no words left for him.

No apologies, no explanations.

Nothing.

After all, how do you even begin to talk to someone who can so easily say what he did? It had been easier, she’d realized, to just avoid him entirely. Leave his messages delivered, let his calls go to voicemail. She put up walls and pretended like it didn’t hurt.

But it did.

Every day.

And no amount of pretending could stop that gnawing feeling in her chest. Still, she stayed away because there was no way she could face him and pick up the pieces, not yet.

It was Halloween night, and the girl stood in front of her mirror, finishing the last details of her costume. Her lacy white tights were pulled up neatly, hugging her legs, and she adjusted the tiny bow sitting just above her ear, a delicate touch that completed the look. She had carefully painted a little deer nose on her face, a soft line of black across the tip of her nose. Her eyes were doe-like, accentuated with white on her waterline and a hint of soft brown eyeshadow, shimmering when it caught the light. Her lashes fluttered as she applied the blush against her cheeks. A pair of fluffy brown deer ears and antlers were perched atop her head.

Her white and brown lacy dress clung to her, its fabric light and airy that gave it a playful, yet delicate charm. The skirt flared out slightly, ending just above her upper thigh, giving her an ethereal, almost fairy-like quality. Fuzzy, cream coloured leg warmers wrapped snugly around her calves, adding a cozy yet whimsical touch, while her chunky Mary Jane heels, a shade of soft brown, clicked as she shifted her weight, completing the ensemble.

She stepped back from the mirror, as she admired her reflection.

Recently, Y/n had found herself spending more and more time with Cooper. Ever since her… fallout with Rafe, Cooper had been a consistent presence, and the two had grown closer in a way she hadn’t expected. Tonight, they were going to the Halloween party together, and they had decided to match outfits, it was the boys suggestion.

A Hunter and a Deer.

The girl had been skeptical at first, she thought it was a little odd but at the same time she did really want to be a deer so she couldn't argue. When she climbed into his car, the interior of his vehicle was filled with the soft hum of music and the faint scent of cologne.

Cooper was wearing his outfit, a rugged, green jacket hung loosely on his shoulders, a fur collar suggestive of his hobby, his dark camo cargos were accompanied by sturdy brown boots. To top it off, he wore a black cap with the words, ‘I like big racks’ and deer antlers embroidered underneath. She giggled as she saw the hat shaking her head.

Classic

Cooper caught her gaze, his eyes sparkling with mischief, and a soft chuckle escaped his lips.

“I like your cap,” she said, teasing but fond, her eyes flickering to the playful embroidery before meeting his eyes. “It’s... very you.”

He tilted his head back and smiled wide, his laughter filling the car. “Thanks,” he replied with a shrug, his voice playful yet sincere.

“I wore it for you.”

She raised an eyebrow, fighting off a grin. “Of course you did.” Her voice clearly captured a hint of amusement in her words. His gaze softened as he reached over, giving her hand a soft kiss. His lips brushed lightly against her skin, and he murmured under his breath,

“You look amazing tonight... couldn’t ask for a better costume partner.”

The simple gesture sent a warmth through her chest, the closeness they shared these past few weeks making it all feel more genuine. She smiled genuinely,

“Thanks Coop, I think we’re gonna make the best team tonight.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cooper and Y/n arrived at the party, the bass thumping through the walls, echoing the excitement of the people inside. They stepped through the door, and as they made their way through the sea of costumes, Cooper’s hand slid naturally to the small of her back. He let it rest there, his touch gentle but firm, as they walked toward the kitchen, he couldn’t help but glance down at her, his lips curling into a smile. She looked cute as a doe—her soft lace clothes, the little deer ears perched atop her head, and the delicate painted nose on her face. It suited her in a way that surprised him. His hand trailed down her back, skimming over the soft lace of her outfit, feeling the delicate fabric under his fingers. It was a touch that was possessive yet tender, an acknowledgment of how good it felt to have her close. Just as they turned a corner to the kitchen, they bumped into Kelce and Topper, both of them dressed in their Halloween costumes. Topper's eyes lit up when he saw her, and before she could even say a word, he was pulling her into a big, bear hug.

"Looky, looky who it is!"

Topper grinned, his voice warm as he squeezed her tightly. "It’s good to see you Princess," he said, his voice genuinely happy to see her. The girl chuckled as she pulled away, brushing her hair behind her ear.

"You too, Top."

She replied, smiling up at him, trying to ignore the familiar warmth in her chest. She turned to Kelce next, her eyes scanning his costume with a smirk.

"And what are you wearing, Kels?"

She asked, amusement lacing her voice. Kelce stood there for a moment, looking a little sheepish. He scratched the back of his neck, trying to look casual, but there was a clear hesitation.

"Sto—"

He started, but she cut him off, already laughing, he rolled his eyes, holding up his hands in mock surrender the blue scrubs moving with his bicep,

"I’m a dentist," he said, grinning. "Don't make fun of me."

Y/n burst into laughter, the sound bubbling up from her chest. "What?" she gasped between giggles. "A dentist?" She was shaking her head, her hands clutching her sides as she tried to stop laughing. Kelce seemed to take it all in stride though, his grin never faltering,

"C'mon, cut it out," Kelce said, feigning annoyance. "My girl's the tooth fairy."

Y/n’s eyes widened, her attention suddenly caught by a girl in the background, prancing around in a cute, sparkly fairy costume, clearly already tipsy she had little chocolate coins, offering them to people with a wide smile.

"Aww, you know what? That’s cute," she said, shaking her head but smiling. "I take it back, Kels you’re off the hook."

Kelce shot her a mock glare, though his smile never left. "Yeah, yeah. Just wait until I start handing out lollipops and toothbrushes," he teased, but the lightheartedness in his voice was clear. The girl shook her head humoured by his words and her eyes landed on Topper, who was standing off to the side in an extremely minimalistic devil costume, his red horns poking out from under his tousled hair. He looked up at her, noticing her gaze, and she couldn’t help but smirk.

“Sexy. I like it” she teased, her tone playful.

Topper grinned at her response, clearly enjoying the attention. “Thanks,” he said, his voice laced with amusement.

Cooper, standing just behind her, handed her a drink. She took it from him, her fingers brushing against his as she sipped gratefully, savoring the burn of the alcohol.

“Good choice”

She muttered, turning to Topper again, a teasing glint in her eyes. Topper raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“I like your costume, by the way,” he joked, his eyes flicking over to her deer outfit. “Looks like you're part of the canine family.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, a dramatic sigh escaping her lips. “It’s a deer, asshole,” she corrected him, shaking her head. Topper chuckled, his gaze flicking between her and Cooper. He asked, the tone of his voice teasing, as if trying to get a rise out of her.

“Couples costume, huh?”

“-not a couple.”

She blurted out a little too quickly and froze, her hand tightening around her drink as her mind raced. The words came out harsher than she intended, and she immediately regretted them.

Well shit

Her heart skipped a beat as she looked over at Cooper, praying he didn’t pick up on the sudden awkwardness that had settled between them. He simply glanced over at her for a brief moment, his expression unreadable, before turning his attention back to the conversation, not letting on that he’d noticed anything off. She let out a nervous laugh, her fingers tapping lightly on the rim of her cup,

“Just a duo, you know?” she added, trying to downplay her words.

Topper raised an eyebrow, clearly sensing the tension but not quite knowing what to make of it. He nodded slowly, his expression shifting to something more casual as he tried to smooth over the moment.

“Yeah, yeah. Me and Rafe are a duo too, had to bribe him though...”

He said, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. The mention of Rafe’s name was like a cold bucket of water being poured over her. Her throat tightened, and she could feel the sudden chill in the air, the weight of his name hanging between them. Her pulse quickened as the awkwardness seemed to settle even deeper. Cooper noticed the change in her posture immediately. He looked over at her, but his face remained neutral, giving nothing away. She cleared her throat, trying to shake off the uncomfortable feeling that had crept over her.

“Right. Uh, what's he wearing?” she asked, her voice slightly strained as she forced the question out. Topper didn’t seem to notice her discomfort.

“He’s an angel.”

He said, casually shrugging his shoulders. Y/n nodded, forcing a smile as the conversation shifted away from her. Y/N heard laughter and a playful 'Catch you later' the sound of footsteps mixed with the music heavily thumping and before she could turn to look, she felt a subtle shift in the atmosphere. A hand clapped onto Toppers back, the sound sent a jolt through her, she looked up, and her breath caught.

Rafe

He stood by the boy with small horns on his head. He was dressed in a white wife-beater that clung to his toned body, his muscular arms exposed out to the warm air in the kitchen. His dark jeans hung low on his hips with a belt that had a cross-shaped buckle rested around his waist, adding to his costume. But it was the white, feathery fake angel wings strapped to his back that really caught her eye. The wings fluttered slightly as he moved, adding an almost ethereal quality to his presence.

My Angel Baby

Y/N froze, the last time she had seen him was... well, it didn’t matter. Rafe turned around as he made his way into the kitchen, his eyes scanning the room and landing on her almost instantly and for a moment, it felt as though time stopped.

Y/n

It was as if the world had shrunk down to just the two of them, with that heavy, suffocating silence closing in between them. Her heart did something strange in her chest as she tried to steady herself, trying to make sense of the feeling that suddenly rose within her. Rafe’s lips curled into a slow small, hesitant smile.

"Princess"

His words hung heavy, like a weight he’d thrown at her and now expected her to catch. Her throat tightened.

Princess? Is he for real right now…

The nickname left his mouth quietly, like he was testing it, unsure if it still belonged to her. It didn’t land the way it used to—it wasn’t warm, it wasn't teasing. It felt foreign, strange, like it didn’t fit anymore. She forced herself to meet his gaze,

"Rafe," she replied with a hint of frost in her voice.

Rafe shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his posture awkward, his usual confidence visibly faltering. His eyes swept over her, lingering briefly on her doe costume before flicking back up to her face. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then stopped, his jaw tightening.

Cooper and Topper, who had been standing beside her, seemed to sense the change in the air immediately. Cooper’s body subtly shifted closer to hers, a protective gesture, but she didn’t know if it was for her sake or his own. “Rafe,” he greeted him coolly, trying to steer the conversation. Topper cleared his throat;

“Looking angelic, man.”

Rafe’s eyes flicked over to Cooper, but he didn’t let his attention stray for long. He nodded at him briefly, the charm still evident in his tone. “Thanks.” The boy's hesitated before delving into their own conversation in attempt to fill the awkward silence. Rafe's gaze returned to Y/N, his eyes softening just a fraction, but that only made things worse. It made Y/N ache, wanting so badly to ignore the pull he still had on her, the familiarity she didn’t want to feel.

"It’s uh- been a while… how’s everything been?"

Rafe asked, his voice almost too casual, like they weren’t standing in the middle of a room full of people, pretending they didn’t both wish the ground would swallow them up.

A while? Are you serious right now? Oh I don't know I’ve been pretty fucking good ever since you shamed me in front of almost the whole islan-

“Been great.”

She replied, her voice cool, detached. It was the best she could muster, though it sounded more brittle than she intended. He spoke out to her again,

“I didn’t think I’d see you here,”

Seriously? That's the best you've got

Y/N glanced at him, her fingers tightening around her drink. She could feel the heat of his gaze, steady and unrelenting, and it only made her grip harder.

“I wasn’t planning on coming,” she replied, the words slipping out sharper than she intended.

Her tone cut through the air, but Rafe didn’t flinch. He stood there, unmovable, though the slight twitch in his jaw betrayed him. She took a slow sip of her drink, the cool liquid doing little to soothe the bitterness that curled in her chest. She lowered the cup and glanced at him again, her expression carefully guarded. “But here we are,” she added, her voice tinged with something she couldn’t quite name- resignation, maybe. She cleared her throat, breaking eye contact as she took another sip, but it didn’t help. The tension coiled tight in her chest, making it hard to breathe.

“Enjoying the party?” she asked, her tone light, almost dismissive.

He hesitated, his gaze still fixed on her, and for a moment, she thought he might let the question slide. But then he nodded.

“It’s fine,” he said simply.

Fine?

The word hung there, bland and empty. She hated how it felt, how the silence after it stretched and frayed at her nerves.

“You?” he asked after a moment, his voice quieter now. “Are you… enjoying yourself?”

She huffed out a short laugh, bitter and sharp. “Sure,” she said, the word biting, cutting.

“What’s not to enjoy?”

Rafe shifted, his hands sliding into his pockets as he looked down briefly, breaking the tension of his stare. His jaw tightened, and she could see him debating something, though he didn’t speak right away. When he finally looked up, his expression was unreadable, his voice steady but quieter than before.

“I didn’t mean to…” He stopped himself, exhaling through his nose as if searching for the right words. “I just—”

“You just what?” she interrupted, her tone flat.

Rafe’s mouth pressed into a thin line, his composure slipping for just a moment. His shoulders stiffened, and when he spoke again, his voice was tighter. “I didn’t mean for things to… happen the way they did.”

The words hit her like a punch, stealing the breath from her lungs. She stared at him, her heart pounding, but her face remained carefully blank. “Didn’t mean to?” she echoed, her voice low and incredulous.

Rafe stepped closer, his presence overwhelming, but she stood her ground, refusing to shrink under his gaze. “Y/N—”

“Don’t,” she said sharply, cutting him off. She straightened her spine, the cup in her hand trembling slightly despite her best efforts.

“I don’t want to do this. Not here. Not now.”

Her words seemed to hit him harder than she expected. He stopped in his tracks, his expression faltering. “Okay,” he said softly, shoving his hand's deeper into his pockets, but she could see the tremble in them. “Okay.... yeah.”

Fuck what do I say

Say something

Shit

“You look…” he started, but the words seemed to stick in his throat. He exhaled sharply through his nose, glancing away for a second before continuing,

“You look nice.”

Nice?

Y/N let out a bitter laugh, short and cutting, the sound making his shoulders stiffen. She tilted her head, her lips curling into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Rafe’s eyes darted to hers, and for a moment, he looked as though he wanted to take the words back, to swallow them whole. But he didn’t get the chance.

“Funny,” she continued, her voice low as she looked down at the cup in her hand, trembling slightly, though she tried to mask it.

“You sure I don’t look like a slut?”

…

Her words hit like a bullet, and she watched as Rafe’s face fell, the tension in his jaw softening into something that almost resembled regret. His eyes flickered, searching hers, but she didn’t give him the chance to answer.

“Y/N—” he started, his voice quiet, almost pleading but she wasn’t about to let him finish.

“Excuse me,” she said sharply, brushing past him before he could say another word.

Her heart was pounding as she walked away, each step feeling heavier than the last. The kitchen felt stifling, the air too thick, too suffocating. She needed to get away—to breathe.

She didn’t dare look back, but she could feel his gaze on her, heavy and unrelenting, as though he was willing her to stop, to turn around. But she wouldn’t.

Couldn’t.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The world felt like it had slipped loose from its hinges, the room around her swayed in slow, nauseating waves, the walls bending and tilting as if they were trying to close in on her. Lights blurred into streaks of color, their sharp edges softened by the haze clouding her vision. Every sound- the music, the chatter, the occasional burst of laughter- felt distant and muffled, as though she were underwater. Her body felt heavy and weightless all at once, her limbs sluggish, uncooperative. She stumbled slightly, catching herself on the edge of the table in the living room, the cold surface grounding her for a brief moment before the spinning started again. Her thoughts were jumbled, fragmented. Every time she tried to focus on one, it slipped away, dissolving into a mess of fleeting emotions.

Forget. Just forget.

The alcohol coursing through her veins was doing its job, dulling the sharp ache in her chest, blurring the edges of her pain. But it wasn’t enough. Rafe’s face still flickered in her mind like a cruel, persistent ghost, and no matter how much she drank, she couldn’t drown it out completely. She tilted her head back and took another sip, no it was more like a gulp, of whatever was in her cup. She didn’t know what it was, and she didn’t care. It burned on the way down, but the warmth spread through her like a blanket, smothering her thoughts for a moment, but the spinning wouldn’t stop. It grew worse when she closed her eyes, the sensation of falling endless and disorienting. She blinked them open again, gripping the counter harder as a wave of dizziness washed over her.

“Y/N?”

Someone said, their voice distant, almost unintelligible. She turned her head too quickly, the movement making her stomach lurch. He stepped closer, his brows knit with concern as he took in her state.

“You okay? I think you’ve had enough to drink for one night.”

“Mmhmm”

She mumbled, nodding sluggishly, though her grip on the counter said otherwise. She tried to steady herself, but the ground beneath her felt like it was tilting, swaying, threatening to pull her under.

“I just…” She trailed off, her words slurring slightly. “-need the bathroom.”

Cooper hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line as he glanced around the room. “Alright,” he said finally, his voice soft but firm. “C’mon, let’s get you upstairs.”

He reached for her arm, his hand warm and steady as it wrapped around her elbow, but it felt unknown, not like the one she was used to, the one which would always lead her home at the end of the night.

Stop thinking about him

She stumbled slightly as she tried to move, her legs feeling like jelly beneath her. Cooper tightened his grip, his other hand moving to her lower back to steady her.

“Easy,” he murmured, guiding her through the crowded room. They reached the stairs, and Cooper paused, glancing down at her.

“Can you make it up, or…?”

She nodded, though the action made her head swim. “Yeah… yeah, I’m good,” she muttered, though her wobbling steps told a different story.

“Alright, I’ve got you,” Cooper said, as he kept a firm hold on her as they climbed the stairs, her hand gripping the banister tightly while his arm stayed steady around her. She hummed out as she walked through the door the boy had opened for her, her feet wobbly as she looked around. In front of her laid a bed, a bedside table, doors leading into an en suite and doors to a balcony.

Bedroom?

“This is a bedroom.”

She slurred, her words tumbling out as she glanced back at Cooper, who had just shut the door behind them. Her glassy eyes darted around the room, struggling to focus on its elegant decor. Cooper smiled, his expression amused but tinged with something else as he took her in. The top of her dress had slipped slightly, the loose ties revealing more than she probably realized in her current state. He stepped closer, steadying her as she swayed unsteadily on her feet. His hand found hers, firm yet careful.

“Yeah, it’s a bedroom,” he replied smoothly, his voice low. “One of the guest rooms, I think.” His chest brushed lightly against hers as he shifted closer, his grip tightening ever so slightly to keep her upright.

“Need to pee…” she mumbled, attempting to turn toward the en-suite bathroom but stumbling into him instead. Cooper chuckled softly, the sound warm.

“Careful princess,” he murmured, his arms circling her waist to steady her as her body pressed against his. He could feel the warmth radiating from her skin, the faint scent of her perfume clinging to the air between them.

“Let me help you,” he added, guiding her gently toward the bathroom. His touch was steady, a contrast to her wavering steps, as he led her to the en-suite. Reaching the doorway, she leaned heavily against the frame, her head still spinning from the alcohol. “Give me a minute,” she slurred, trying to wave him off as she stumbled inside.

Cooper didn’t move far. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, watching her with a faint smirk. “You sure you’re gonna be okay in there?” he teased, his voice carrying an edge of amusement.

“You seem a little… unsteady.”

“I’m fine,” she muttered, though her voice was far from convincing. Shutting the door behind her, she leaned her forehead against the cool wood, letting out a deep breath as she tried to ground herself. She gripped the counter, her reflection in the mirror blurry and unfamiliar. A wave of dizziness hit her, and she shut her eyes, trying to steady herself.

This is weird.

She’d never felt like this after drinking.

With a shaky hand, she turned the faucet on, splashing cold water onto her neck in an attempt to sober up. It didn’t help much. Her head was still swimming, her body heavy and uncooperative. Outside, Cooper waited, his eyes fixed on the door. He could hear the faint sounds of her fumbling around, the occasional clink of glass or the creak of the counter as she leaned on it. A small smile tugged at his lips as he listened. Her shaky breaths filtered through the door, and something about the sound made his expression shift, his gaze darkening. He leaned his head back against the frame, his thoughts clouded, though his posture remained calm and composed.

Y/N pressed her hands flat against the counter, willing the spinning to stop.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The back patio was quieter than the rest of the house, the thrum of bass from inside muffled by the sliding glass door. Rafe sat slouched in one of the chairs, a half-empty beer bottle dangling from his fingers. Kelce leaned against the railing, a joint pinched between his fingers, exhaling smoke lazily into the crisp night air. Topper stood nearby, sipping from a red Solo cup, his gaze flicking between the two of them. Rafe’s eyes were distant, scanning the groups of people inside as if he were looking for something- or someone. Topper sighed, breaking the silence.

“You tried, man.”

“I don’t know what to do”

Rafe’s gaze didn’t shift. He barely even blinked. Kelce snorted, the sound almost derisive.

“You fucked up so bad you’re gonna need… you’re gonna need a miracle—ha!”

He gestured lazily at Rafe with his joint, smirking at his own joke, clearly amused by the irony of the boy’s costume. Rafe shot him a look, his jaw tightening, Topper rolled his eyes at Kelce, clearly unimpressed. “Real helpful bro.” Kelce shrugged, taking another drag,

“I’m just saying. You can’t just say sorry for what you said and expect her to forgive you. That’s not how it works. You said some pretty fucked up shit”

I know

Rafe rubbed a hand over his face, letting out a frustrated sigh. The weight of the past two months pressed down on him like a physical thing. Every day without her felt wrong, like a part of him was missing. He’d thought the fight would blow over, that she’d come around eventually- but she hadn’t.

I miss her so much

“I just…” Rafe trailed off, shaking his head. “I can’t keep doing this.” He pushed himself up, setting his beer down on the table. “I’m going to find her.”

Kelce raised an eyebrow, flicking ash from his joint. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, man.”

Topper glanced at Rafe, hesitating. “She’s had a lot to drink. Like, a lot,” he said, emphasizing the last word with a pointed look. Rafe’s brows furrowed, his eyes narrowing,

“What do you mean? How much is a lot?”

Topper scratched the back of his neck, looking slightly uncomfortable. “Like, I had to make sure Matty banned her from the kitchen because she kept going back for more. She’s seriously drunk, Rafe.” Rafe’s expression changed, a flicker of worry crossing his features, heartbeat quickening slightly.

“Where is she? Who’s she with?”

Topper hesitated for a beat too long, glancing at Kelce. “She’s with Cooper,” Kelce finally said, his tone nonchalant. “Relax, dude. He’s keeping an eye on her. She’s fine.”

Are you fucking seriou-

Rafe’s jaw clenched, his unease growing. “And you’re okay with that?” he asked, his voice low, an edge creeping into it.

Kelce raised an eyebrow at him. “Okay with what?”

“You’re okay with her being alone with some guy we don’t even know?” Rafe snapped, his frustration boiling over.

Topper exchanged a glance with Kelce, his brow furrowing. “We know him pretty well, don’t we?”

Kelce let out a dry laugh. “Seems like she’s gotten to know him pretty well, if you ask me.”

Rafe stiffened, his hand tightening on the armrest of his seat. He didn’t say anything, but the tension radiating from him was palpable. Kelce smirked, leaning in slightly.

“Who do you think she’s been with while you’ve been gone, Rafe?”

The words hit like a slap, and Rafe’s jaw ticked as he ground his teeth together. He didn’t respond, but his knuckles whitened where they gripped the table. Before he could do anything, someone appeared at the edge of the patio holding a tray of shots. “Hey, boys! Shots on me!” the newcomer announced, grinning wide. Kelce perked up immediately, stepping forward to claim one. “Now that’s what I’m talking about!” Topper clapped Rafe on the shoulder, pulling him back toward the group.

“Come on, man. One shot won’t kill you. You need to loosen up.”

Rafe hesitated, glancing toward the house one last time and reluctantly, he let Topper guide him back to the table, though his mind was still somewhere else.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The door creaked as Y/N pulled it open, her hazy vision landing on Cooper seated on the edge of the bed. He leaned forward slightly, forearms resting on his thighs, his gaze lifting to meet hers. The soft glow filtering in from the balcony doors illuminated his figure, casting dark shadows across his face.

Y/N let out a soft hum, almost to herself, as she stepped out of the ensuite, her movements unsteady and slow. She switched off the light behind her, plunging the room further into the warm, muted darkness. The gentle glow from outside danced across the room, Cooper’s eyes didn’t leave her, watching as she stumbled slightly, the alcohol clearly taking its toll. He straightened as she approached, his expression unreadable but his gaze heavy, lingering. His hands fidgeted in his lap for a moment before he stood, his tall frame now looming over hers as she swayed slightly.

“Careful,” he murmured, his voice low, almost a whisper.

Before she could respond, his hand found its way to her waist, the touch firm and steadying. Her breath hitched at the contact, and she instinctively placed her hands on his shoulders to steady herself, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

“You okay?” he asked, his head tilting slightly as he looked at her.

“Mm-hmm,” she mumbled, her sound slow and barely coherent.

His other hand came up, brushing against her arm as if to guide her closer. The proximity made her heart race- or was that the alcohol? She wasn’t sure anymore. Cooper’s touch was steady, grounding in contrast to the room spinning around her.

“You sure?” he asked again, his voice a little firmer this time, his brows furrowing slightly as he studied her face.

“Yeah,” she whispered, but even to her own ears, the word sounded weak.

She tried to focus on his face, the way the soft light carved out the sharp line of his jaw and highlighted the intensity in his eyes. Her head was still spinning, her body feeling both weightless and heavy at the same time. She shifted her weight slightly, leaning into him without realising it. Cooper’s grip on her waist tightened as he steadied her.

“You’re really drunk, Y/N.”

He said, his tone laced with something between concern and… desire?

Her lips parted as if to say something, but the words didn’t come. Instead, she blinked at him, her expression dazed, caught between wanting to push him away and being too exhausted to do anything but let him hold her up.

“I don’t know what’s wro-”

She was cut off as the boy pressed his lips against hers. She wasn’t expecting it but her hands now went to his chest trying to stabilise herself as she wobbled. Cooper deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping into her mouth, tasting and exploring, his hands moved from her waist to her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh. She could feel his need for her, the desperation in his touch as he pressed her closer against him.

“Taste so good princess” he mumbled against her lips, his voice hoarse with desire.

“Cooper-”

She breathed out barely audible as he pressed his lips against hers once more. His hands slid down her body grabbing at her ass harshly as he manoeuvred her around, pushing her down onto the bed, his body hovering over her as he looked down at her through hooded eyes. His hands moved to the tops of her legs, his fingers trailing up and down the soft lace material of her costume, his lips found the sensitive skin of her neck, his kisses hot and possessive as he moved down her body.

What is he doing

“Cooper-”

She tried to push against his chest but he continued working his lips against her neck. She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding in. Her limbs felt so heavy, she felt life she was being weighed down, as though everything was moving in slow motion. The boy ignored her weak attempts to push him away, his lips continuing to trail down her neck and across her shoulder, his breath hot against her skin, hands moving across her body.

“Just let me take care of you” he mumbled against her skin, his voice heavy with need.

“-wait…”

Stop

She tried to slur out but the boy's lips were back on hers, his hands working on the ribbons of her dress, his hands moving down the material, easily undoing it, exposing her bare skin to the cool air.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The shot glass hit the table with a clink, but Rafe barely noticed. His leg was bouncing under the table, a nervous rhythm that matched the tapping of his fingers against the wood. The others were laughing, chatting, completely unaware of the storm brewing inside him. Each second felt heavier than the last, his unease growing into something tangible, pressing against his chest.

“Dude, you good?” Topper asked, raising a brow as he noticed Rafe’s agitation.

Rafe ignored him, his jaw tightening. The urge to find Y/N was gnawing at him, sharper now than it had been minutes ago. He could feel it in his bones.

I always take her home at the end of the night, I'm always with her when she's drunk this is wron-

He couldn’t take it anymore. The chair scraped loudly against the floor as he shoved it back and stood abruptly.

“I’m going to find Y/N,” he said, his tone clipped and leaving no room for argument.

“Rafe, come on, man,” Kelce called after him, his voice carrying an edge of protest. “She’s fine!”

“Rafe!” Topper added, but he didn’t stop.

The party felt like a maze, the dim lighting and loud music making it harder to focus. He weaved through the crowd, his eyes scanning every face he passed. Most were unfamiliar, laughing and shouting over the music. His irritation mounted as he asked a couple of people, letting out a groan at every dead end,

“Have you seen Y/N?”

“Nah man my bad.”

“She was dressed as a deer right-?”

“Uhhhh no?”

“Oh she was so cute!”

"Sorry, I haven’t”

Fucking useless

“She’s with Cooper, I think,”

A girl answered, her tone casual, like it wasn’t a big deal. Rafe’s jaw clenched as he muttered a tense “Thanks” and moved on. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. Each answer only added to the tight coil of worry in his chest. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. Then he spotted Sarah, standing near the stairs, chatting with a group of girls. Relief surged through him as he strode over.

“Sarah-” he called, his voice cutting through the noise.

She turned, eyebrows shooting up in surprise at his tone. “Rafe?”

“Have you seen Y/N?” he asked. Her brows furrowed, a mixture of curiosity and skepticism crossing her face.

“Why? I thought you guys weren’t talking. Besides I don’t think that she’s going to want to talk to you-”

“Sarah!”

Please just tell me

“Listen I’m just saying, as her friend, that you really pissed her-"

“Sarah, don’t play with me right now. Where is she?” His voice dropped, laced with urgency.

“This is serious. She’s drunk, Sarah. She could get hurt.”

The shift in his tone made Sarah pause, her expression softening as realization dawned. “She went upstairs- to the bathroom or something.”

Rafe’s shoulders sagged slightly in relief before tensing again at her next words.

“I think she’s with Cooper,” she added, watching her brother’s face. He let out a flat, acknowledging hum, his lips pressing into a thin line as he turned toward the stairs. As he reached the top landing eyes looking over the busy hallway, he pulled his phone from his pocket, dialling her number. The ringing in his ear was deafening against the muffled thump of the music below, he was gripping the phone tightly as it rang.

Come on…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The faint hum of Y/N’s phone vibrated against the hardwood floor, the screen lighting up briefly before dimming again. It buzzed insistently, the sound barely audible over the girl's heavy breaths as she turned her head away from the boy above her. She weakly pressed against his shoulders, but he nudged her arms aside, capturing her wrists and pinning them to the bed once more. He groaned, flipping her onto her stomach, her cheek now pressed into the soft sheets beneath her which were anything but welcoming.

“C’mon Y/n, I’ve been so nice to you in the past two months. Don’t you think I deserve a reward?”

He said again, his voice softer yet his actions rough as his hands trailed down her sides, his touch both careful and controlled as he adjusted her beneath him. Her mind raced, the sharp sound of fabric being ripped snapping her out of the haze- her heart jumped in her chest.

Fuck

“No-”

She spoke louder now, the situation sobering her up, hands shakily pushing herself up only to be forced back down again by the boy, his hand clamping down over her mouth causing her eyes to widen.

“Shut up”

He grumbled out annoyed, the sound of his belt unbuckling causing her eyes to widen, her instincts screaming at her, making her lash out, arm coming back to elbow him in the stomach the boy letting out a groan, his hands releasing her wrists as he clutched at the spot where she had hit him. She shoved herself back, stumbling to the floor, her head hitting against the side of the bedside table causing her to let out a whimper.

Her vision was fuzzy as she tried to crawl over to the door, the light from underneath spilling out only for a hand on her ankle to stop her. The boy caught her, his grip strong and firm, preventing her from moving any further, his forehead wrinkled with irritation,

"Where do you think you're going, princess?"

“Get off of me-”

She croaked out, her hand coming up to her head as she touched it feeling a wet liquid where she’d touched it, her vision was hazy but she could make out the red on her fingertips. She kicked her foot out trying to get his grip off her as her hands reached out for the door.

“You want to do it on the floor like a dirty bitch? That’s fine-”

Please don't do this-

She was yanked back sharply by his grip, her breath hitching as panic clawed its way up her throat. The weight of his body pressed down on hers, suffocating and relentless. Her chest heaved with shallow, desperate gasps, the edges of her vision blurring with tears.

Her eyes darted to the soft glow of light spilling from beneath the door, shadows shifting behind it—a fleeting, fragile hope. Her body trembled violently as a choked cry escaped her lips, raw and broken. She managed to sob out a scream, her voice cracking with terror, but it was cut short as his hand clamped firmly over her mouth. Her muffled wails echoed in her ears, her struggles growing frantic as Cooper aggressively lifted her hips up to meet his.

Fabric ripping once more.

She shuddered as she felt his hands moving roughly along her inner thighs.

Quiet sobs racked her body as he moved, whimpers slipping past her lips as his hand pushed her hair away from her shoulder, his lips moving against her skin once more, the sounds she made only served to anger him further. He leaned down, pressing his body harder against hers,

“Please-”

Her eyes noticed the shadows under the door.

“HE-”

His hand lifted wrapping around her neck tightly causing her to gasp out her hand coming up to grip at his wrist, words caught in her throat as Cooper growled in irritation. He hissed into her ear,

"Just stop- …this will be a lot easier for both of us if you just be quiet."

Her eyes closed momentarily in acceptance.

Maybe if she didn’t fight it, the suffocating weight of it all would fade, the throbbing in her head, the pain between her thighs, and she could slip away into the numbness she craved. She tried to still her racing heartbeat, forcing herself to steady her breath as the reality of her helplessness settled over her like a heavy, suffocating blanket.

Maybe if I play along it will be over faster-

The sound of the door handle rattling caused her eyes to open immediately.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rafe’s patience was wearing thin, his fist collided with the bathroom door, a rapid, irritated pounding that echoed through the hall, causing people to turn their heads. He rattled the doorknob, a voice came from behind the door, deep and slurred, as a guy stumbled out, nearly knocking Rafe over.

“Yo, what the hell, man?”

Rafe clenched his jaw, trying to keep his cool. “Sorry, thought you were someone else,” he muttered before brushing past him, irritation flooding his veins. The hallway ahead was full of noise, bodies stumbling past him, the house buzzing with laughter and chaos. He moved past one door, trying the handle.

Locked

“Occupied!” came a giggling voice from within. Rafe groaned, frustration building, but he didn’t let it stop him. His fingers tapped the phone in his hand, waiting for the girl to pick up as he moved further down the hallway. His heart was hammering in his chest as the seconds ticked by. At the end of the hallway, the noise died down. It was quieter here, the last stretch of the floor empty. He approached the two doors at the end of the hall, both wide open, he stepped into one room, his eyes scanning it quickly.

Where is she

His hands gripped the edge of the desk near him, frustration bubbling up again. His breath was coming fast, chest tight as he stepped further into the room. And then, in a fit of rage, he grabbed the nearest vase, smashing it to the ground with a force that made the room reverberate.

“FUCK!”

He yelled, his voice raw with anger. He ran his hand over his face, gripping the bridge of his nose to steady himself, trying to regain control. The heavy breathing echoed in his ears as his mind raced, and that’s when he heard it. A faint sound in the distance, too soft to place at first.

The sound of crying.

His head snapped up, eyes darting around the room. Panic surged through him as his body moved before he could think. He stormed toward the ensuite, slamming the door open with a force that rattled the frame.

Empty

He stood still for a moment, his mind screaming, trying to make sense of everything that was happening. His fingers tapped against the screen of his phone again, the ringing breaking through the silence. He lifted it to his ear with shaky hands, the tension in his shoulders building with each passing second.

But then he heard it—vibrations, the faint buzz a phone ringing.

It was coming from somewhere else. His breath caught in his throat as he whipped his head around, eyes scanning the dark room, but there was nothing. No one. And that’s when it hit him.

It was coming from above him.

His body was already reacting before his mind could fully process. He clenched his fists and rushed for the stairs taking two at a time, leaving the room before the phone could stop ringing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cooper heard the sound of the door handle rattling and looked up, his eyes wide with panic. His grip on Y/N tightened, but as he glanced down at her, he saw the flicker of hope in her eyes as she looked toward the door. His jaw clenched, and he let out a low, frustrated growl. Her breath hitched against the boy's hand, which was now firmly pressed over her mouth. The weight of his body above hers felt suffocating, his other hand now rougher as it gripped her hip. She shivered under him, her body trembling in fear and desperation.

“Y/n?”

Rafe?

The door handle rattled again, louder this time.

Rafe’s voice rang out from the other side, cutting through the thick air. Y/N’s heart lurched at the sound, a tear rolling down her cheek in response.

“Y/N?!”

She sobbed out, but the sound was muffled, stifled by Cooper’s hand still firmly pressed against her mouth. Panic surged within her as she struggled against him, her eyes pleading. Cooper cursed under his breath, the realisation hitting him. He whispered harshly in her ear, his hand pressing harder over her mouth, his grip tightening on her hip.

“Stay quiet,”

The door rattled once more, but the lock prevented it from moving, leaving a silence that suffocated the room. Y/N let out a soft, muffled sob, her whole body aching for freedom.

This is my chance.

The thought screamed through her mind like a lifeline. In one swift motion, she threw her head back, slamming it into Cooper’s face. He fell backward, a grunt escaping his lips as he lost his balance and fell away from her, his hand slipping from her mouth. His name escaping her lips like a desperate prayer,

"RAF-"

The girl's voice was strangled in her throat, choked off by the sheer force as the boy’s hand slammed her head into the hard floor. The world blurred around her, and the sharp pain from the impact made everything go black for a second. Cooper swore under his breath, watching her head hit the floor with a sickening thud. The impact stopped her screams instantly, her body going limp beneath him as her mind tried to catch up to the chaos. Blood began to trickle from her nose, staining her lips and chin, but she couldn’t move, could barely breathe through the pain.

"Wrong move princess"

Cooper growled, his hands gripping her wrists tightly, holding her in place as she tried to slip away. He could feel her trembling beneath him, but it wasn’t fear now. She was just… too hurt to fight back. Outside the door, Rafe’s voice rang out, loud and frantic.

“Y/N please I know I fucked up please just- just open the door baby please”

Her heart seized at the sound of his voice, but all she could do was cry silently. She felt the blood drip from her nose, her hand shaking as it came up to touch it, her fingers slick with red. The pain was dizzying, but through it, she still heard the echo of a loud bang against the door. The sound reverberated through the room, making her heart pound. Cooper swore, his anger flaring as he hastily pulled up his trousers. His movements were rushed, irritated, and the loud bang against the door made him freeze. The force of it rattled the whole room, making him grit his teeth as he glanced down at the girl with disdain.

“You just had to make this difficult, didn’t you?”

Y/N lay on the floor, unable to move, her head pounding, the heat between her thighs burning uncomfortably. She could hear the banging on the door again, louder this time, before it suddenly stopped. Cooper stood behind her, a malicious glint in his eyes as silence filled the room. He straightened, brushing himself off as though nothing had happened.

The stillness was broken when the door swung open violently, Rafe rushing in with anger etched into every line of his face. His eyes scanned the scene, flickering between Y/N’s crumpled figure on the floor and Cooper standing next other hand on her arm the other on her back. Cooper tensed, forcing a fake calm as Rafe’s gaze lingered on the blood on her face and the tears streaking her cheeks.

“Oh princess- here let me help you up, that was a nasty fall wasn't it?”

Liar

Cooper said, attempting to feigned concern, though his voice betrayed a hint of unease. Her voice was barely a whisper, weak and trembling as she tried to speak through the haze of pain.

“Rafe-”

Rafe’s brows narrowed as he heard her. His gaze immediately shifted to her again, taking in every detail- her tear-streaked face, the blood dripping from her nose, and the trembling of her fragile frame.

“Y/n”

He began, stepping toward her instinctively, only for Cooper to step in his path, bumping into the boy blocking his way. The boy spoke, his tone sharp as his stance shifted to block Rafe completely.

“This doesn’t concern you Cameron,”

“Get out of my way before I fucking move you myself.”

Rafe snapped, his voice laced with venom as he squared his shoulders.

“I’m not moving anywhere,”

Behind them, Y/N shakily moved her arms, trying to push herself upright despite the pain. Blood from her nose dripped onto the floor, mixing with her tears. She winced as she leaned back, gasping audibly when the sharp, searing pain between her thighs flared. Her weak cry drew Rafe’s attention, his anger spiking as he noticed her efforts to sit up. His jaw clenched as he took in her disheveled state. Her hand reached up to wipe the blood beneath her nose, but the gesture only made it more apparent to Rafe what had happened.

Topless, her hair tangled, her tights ripped, her thighs marked with angry handprints.

Liar

Something in the boy snapped, and the sickening crack of his fist colliding with Cooper’s face echoed through the room. Cooper stumbled back, clutching his nose as blood poured between his fingers, his eyes wide with shock and pain.

“What the fuck?!”

He choked out, glaring up at Rafe through watering eyes. His attempt to stand was cut short as Rafe surged forward, grabbing him by the collar and slamming him back against the nearest wall.

“What the fuck did you do huh?”

Rafe snarled, his voice trembling with barely-contained fury. His fist connected with Cooper’s face again, the impact sending a fresh spray of blood down his chin. Cooper groaned, his legs giving way as Rafe shoved him harder against the wall.

“Rafe-”

Y/N’s frail voice cracked as she tried to get his attention, her trembling arms weakly reaching out. Her body screamed in protest, every movement amplifying the pain radiating through her but Rafe didn’t stop. Her words barely registered in his ears, drowned out by the sound of his ragged breathing and Cooper’s groans of pain. Cooper’s arms flailed, trying in vain to push Rafe off him. His words were a garbled mess, punctuated by coughs and gasps as Rafe’s fists repeatedly found their target. The thuds of bone against flesh echoed in the room, each hit fueled by a deeper, darker rage.

He threw Cooper to the floor with a force that rattled the furniture, the boy crumpling in a heap at his feet. Cooper groaned, trying to crawl away, but Rafe was on him again in an instant. He grabbed him by the shirt, hauling him up just enough to land another punishing blow to his jaw.

He's going to kill him

I'm going to kill him

“Rafe, please!”

Y/N cried out, tears streaming down her face. Her voice finally broke through to him, but only for a moment. He paused, looking over his shoulder at her, his chest heaving as his eyes flickered over her frame, eyes taking notice of her ripped tights. His fists clenched tighter, his knuckles white as he turned back to Cooper. He wailed out in agony, blood dripping past his lips,

“Stop-”

“Did you?”

He growled, his voice quieter now but no less dangerous as he held the boy up to look in his eye as he spoke.

“Did you stop? ”

“I didn’t- she-”

Cooper coughed, spitting blood onto the floor but Rafe didn’t let him finish. His hand came down wrapping around Cooper’s neck, pinning him to the ground as he leaned in close, the boy’s eyes widened in fear, his hands weakly clawing at Rafe's skin.

Y/N’s sobs filled the room, her broken cries pulling at Rafe’s fraying control. His hand loosened slightly trembling as he looked back at her. She was slumped against the bed, her arms wrapped around her chest as if trying to shield herself from the world. The sight of her- so vulnerable- made something inside him snap again, but this time it wasn’t rage.

It was guilt.

Guilt that clawed at his chest, threatening to crush him under its weight. He had been so blinded by his own pride, his own anger, the words he’d spat out at her in their argument echoing in his ears like a haunting refrain.

“You’re just a fucking slut.”

That was the reason she was here now, the reason she was stuck in this situation. If he hadn’t said those things to her, maybe they would be in his car, driving her home, maybe stopping to get ice-cream from that spot near the beach she loves so much.

The girl in front of him- was the consequence of his actions.

Of his words.

She should have never been in this position, he should’ve made it right before it ever came to this.

Her cries fell on deaf ears now. Rafe’s fists were slick with Cooper’s blood as he kept going, his knuckles slamming into flesh and bone. Y/N’s vision blurred as her sobs grew louder, her voice breaking as she begged him to stop.

“Rafe! You’re going to kill him!”

The commotion in the room had drawn a crowd. People gathered in the doorway and spilled into the hall, pushing against each other to see what was happening in the room, their whispers and gasps growing louder with each passing second. Someone muttered, “We need to call the police,” and Y/N’s heart clenched in panic, shaking her head weakly as tears streamed down her face.

No- no police

Suddenly, a pair of strong arms wrapped around Rafe’s chest, pulling him off Cooper. It was Topper, who struggled to drag the boy back as he thrashed against him.

“Rafe- RAFE! That’s enough man-” Topper grunted, his arms straining to hold him. “You’re gonna kill him!”

Kelce rushed in, grabbing Rafe’s arm to help Topper haul him away from Cooper’s lifeless form on the floor. Cooper lay unconscious, blood pooling beneath his head as his chest rose and fell shallowly.

"I'm gonna kill you- did you hear me? I'm going to fucking kill you-YOU ASSHOLE!"

Sarah burst into the room, her eyes immediately landed on Y/N, and she froze, her face paling as she let out a quiet gasp, John B following after her, realising what was going on and quickly walking over and crouching down near the unconscious boy on the floor.

“Oh my God-”

Sarah gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. She looked back at Rafe, her voice trembling with shock.

“-what did you do, Rafe?”

Sarah turned back to Y/n, her heart breaking at the sight of the girl’s tear-streaked face. She knelt down beside her, grabbing the blanket off the bed and placing it over her shoulders to cover her bare frame, her voice soft and soothing despite her own panic,

“Hey, Hey it’s okay-”

But Y/N couldn’t stop crying, her hands clutching the blanket tighter as she shook under the girl's touch. Rafe finally stopped struggling, his chest heaving as he watched Y/n. Topper and Kelce let go of him cautiously, their hands still hovering near his shoulders in case he snapped again, Rafe moved toward her slowly, his bloodied hands trembling as he knelt in front of her.

“Y/N…”

His voice was low, as he reached out hesitantly. She flinched at his touch, the boy pulling his hand away from her shoulder. Y/N’s shook slightly, watching as the boy walked back to Topper and Kelce, John B standing up to look at the brunette, they mumbled something that she couldn't hear, her ears still ringing. John B nodded as he walked over to the door, the Pogue put his hands up standing in the door way as he spoke shutting out the flashlights of the videos being recorded,

"Okay party's over guys get out of the hallway-"

His voice muffled in Y/n's ears as she looked at Rafe through watery eyes, her lips trembling as she whispered,

"Don’t leave”

The boy turned around at the sound of her voice, hesitating as he looked to the girl then back at John B, the Pogue gave him a nod before slipping past the door ushering people away.

Rafe walked back towards the girl crouching down next to her, his hand trembled as it brushed a strand of hair away from Y/N’s face, his eyes scanning her battered form. His gaze dropped to the cut on her forehead and the blood still dripped from her nose, her chest rising and falling in shaky breaths as she trembled against him.

“Sarah,” Rafe said quietly, his voice wavering as he turned to his sister, “- you need to call an ambulance.”

Sarah hesitated for just a moment, looking between her brother and Y/N, her hands hovering over the phone as if unsure what to do, but she nodded and quickly dialled the emergency number.

“Yeah, we need an ambulance,” Sarah spoke into the phone, her voice quiet but firm. “There’s a girl�� She’s badly hurt-”

Y/N’s hand trembled as it gripped his shirt causing the boy's head to turn to her not expecting the touch, her gaze flickering up at him, but she shook her head weakly, her breath hitching as she winced in pain.

“No… no ambulance.”

Her voice was barely a whisper, hoarse and broken from the sobbing that had wracked her body earlier,

“I don’t need one… I’ll be fine.”

Rafe’s heart clenched as he looked at her, feeling the weight of her words. He could see the panic in her eyes, the terror that held her back from accepting help.

“Please,” he said, his voice soft but full of desperation, “You need help- don’t do this to yourself.”

Y/n’s hand gripped his shirt tighter as she shakes her head.

“I can’t… I can’t… I don’t want them to- know what happened.”

Rafe felt his chest tighten at her words. It wasn’t just the physical pain she was enduring; it was the emotional weight, the shame, the fear of having to confront what she had been through, but Rafe couldn’t let her keep suffering.

Please

Please don't be scared- I'm right here

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice low and filled with compassion, “I understand but you’re in pain. But you’re hurt. Please let them help you.”

She didn’t respond, just clung to him tighter, shaking her head again but Rafe was too stubborn to let go. Before he could say anything else, he heard Sarah’s voice behind him,

“Please, just let them come,” her voice now softer but still resolute, “They’ll help you”

Y/N’s eyes shot up to Sarah, and she opened her mouth to protest, but no words came out. She could feel her body weakening, the pain between her legs, the aching in her head, and the nauseating dizziness threatening to overwhelm her. She wanted to resist, but her strength was slipping away faster than she could fight it. Y/N’s eyes blurred with more tears as she looked back at Rafe, her hands coming up to wipe them away, wincing as she hit her nose.

“I don’t want them to know… I can’t…”

“Shh, it’s okay,”

Rafe said gently, Sarah, despite Y/N’s protests, remained firm. The sound of the ambulance operator’s voice came through the phone, confirming that there was an ambulance dispatched and already on the way. Sarah hung up, setting the phone down. Y/N finally nodded weakly, her eyes closing for a moment as she tried to steady her breathing. Rafe’s hand hesitantly pressed against her back waiting for her reaction but nothing came, so he started rubbing soothing circles as he whispered comforting words in her ear.

He couldn’t tear his gaze away from the girl.

The boy could hear Topper and Kelce talking behind him, but their words felt distant. He didn’t care about Cooper right now- not when Y/N was in this state. The last time he’d seen her like this-

When her brother died...

If Topper and Kelce hadn’t pulled him off, he would’ve killed Cooper, he was sure of it. However it didn't worry him, the thought didn't repulse him either. The boy's voice broke through his thoughts, his tone low as he looked at Cooper’s unconscious body.

“Man, you really fucked him up”

Kelce muttered, his eyes lingering on Cooper’s bloody face. Topper, kneeling beside Cooper, was checking his pulse with his brow furrowed in concern.

“He’s still breathing…” Topper said.

Rafe didn’t respond, his attention still completely focused on Y/N. He kept replaying what had happened in his head- how he’d snapped, how he’d lost control… how he could’ve seriously hurt her too.

Her soft, labored breaths were the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.

He couldn’t look at Cooper, he didn't want to.

The image of the boy kneeled next to Y/n replayed in his mind and it made his stomach churn.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The wailing sound of sirens cut through the tension in the room.

Police.

Someone from the party had called, Y/N’s eyes snapped open at the sound of the sirens, her heart racing in fear. Panic surged through her, breath quickening as she realised what that meant.

They’re going to arrest Rafe for what he’s done to Cooper.

“No…”

Y/N whispered frantically, her voice barely audible through her panicked breaths. She tried to push herself off the floor, her body trembling with exhaustion and pain, but the effort was too much. Her head spun, and she let out a small, pained sob as a sharp ache shot through her body.

“Princess, don’t move,” Rafe he spoke softly, his hand gripping her shoulder to steady her.

Don’t call me that don't call me that don’t-

“Rafe, you have to leave-”

Her body trembled violently as the pressure of the movement became too much, her knees buckling slightly as she tried to stand.

“Y/N, stop—”

Rafe’s voice was more desperate now, but his hands were still gentle as he kept her from falling.

“I’m not leaving”

Y/N sniffled, her entire body shaking as she finally gave in and let Rafe pull her back against him. Yet the fear of Rafe being arrested made her chest constrict. She didn’t want him to go to jail. She couldn’t bear the thought of it.

“Please,” she whimpered weakly, tears rolling down her face, “I don’t want you to get arrested. You can’t… you can’t go to jail because of me, Ward would be so mad an-”

Rafe’s heart broke at her words, but he was willing to do anything for her. His touch on her back stayed firm as he sat on the floor next to her

“I’ll take care of it okay?” he whispered, his voice filled with certainty, though his mind was racing.

Rafe’s hand moved cautiously and was now resting on top of hers. She’d calmed a little since the sirens, but the weight of the situation was far from gone, her breath was shaky, uneven, her chest rising and falling in panicked gasps as she tried to steady herself. Every sound felt too loud. The distant sirens still echoed in her ears, a reminder that it wasn’t over yet and now, she could hear the unmistakable sound of heavy boots on the stairs, getting closer with every passing second. Her heart hammered in her chest.

Please please please please-

“Rafe, please…” she whispered under her breath, her voice barely audible as her body tensed again, the fear settling deep into her bones.

He didn’t need to ask. He could feel the change in her instantly- the way her body stiffened, the way her breath hitched with a renewed urgency. Her panic was coming back, sharper now, harder to suppress. He shuffled slightly closer, still careful not to overstep any boundaries which would trigger the girl, as he whispered her name trying to keep her grounded, but it wasn’t working. She was hyperventilating now, her chest constricting as she struggled to breathe through the overwhelming anxiety and fear. Her vision blurred at the edges, and she felt dizzy, detached from everything except the sharp, overwhelming pain that coursed through her and the thought that everything was falling apart around her.

“Y/N, hey, look at me,” Rafe said, his voice soft but firm as he tried to catch her eyes “Breathe. Come on, you need to breathe, princess. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Please stop calling me that

Her breath came in rapid, shallow bursts, and her hands were shaking as they gripped her thighs, her nails digging into her skin. She could feel the pressure in her chest, the tightness that wouldn’t release, as the sound of those boots grew louder, closer. Shoupe walked in, making the floorboards creak beneath him as he stepped inside. His eyes immediately locked on the scene before him: Cooper, unconscious on the floor.

Y/N felt her entire body go cold at the sight of the sheriff. She couldn’t look at him. She didn’t want to look at anyone, she felt ashamed. She was so tired- she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force the tears away, but it was useless. The panic was too much, and she could hear herself sobbing, the sound raw and desperate.

“What in the hell happened here?”

Shoupe's voice called out, his tone a mix of confusion and frustration as he looked at the scene before him. Rafe’s expression hardened, his jaw clenching as he turned toward the sheriff, he could feel Y/N’s cries seeping through him.

“I didn’t do this,” Rafe muttered, his voice low and defensive as he met the sheriff’s gaze.

“Cooper he…”

He trailed off, his eyes flicking to Y/N, he wasn’t sure what he was doing...

What the fuck am I supposed to say?

Don’t say it

Shoupe looked between Cooper and Y/N, the blood and the bruises on her face, the visible signs of trauma. His eyes flickered back to Rafe, then to Sarah, who was standing in the doorway, her face a picture of concern.

It was clear that no one had a good answer to what had happened.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The room was quiet now, the chaos of moments before replaced with the steady, measured voices of the paramedics as they worked on Y/N. She sat still, her body sore and exhausted, her mind still spinning with the memories of everything that had just happened. The paramedics were gentle with her, trying to assess her injuries without causing further pain, they’d already cleaned up the blood from her face and checked for any other signs of trauma, their movements swift and practiced as they worked efficiently.

Rafe sat next to her, his hand resting on her arm, offering what little comfort he could. His eyes were focused on her, but his attention also flickered toward the corner where Shoupe, Topper, Kelce, and Sarah were talking quietly. He could hear snippets of their conversation, the low hum of murmurs drifting through the air. Every so often, one of them would sigh or shake their head, this whole situation being something none of them wanted to face.

Sarah stood a little apart from the group, arms crossed, looking at the ground as she processed the gravity of what had just happened. Her eyes flickered to Y/N for a moment, but she quickly looked away, clearly uncomfortable with the sight of her, even more so with the knowledge of how much pain she was in.

Shoupe’s voice followed, a tone of regret in his words. He sounded almost apologetic, but his authority still carried the weight of someone who had seen too much and wasn’t quite used to witnessing this level of violence from people he knew personally.

“I don’t want to do this, but… I have to.”

Y/N’s eyes were closed now, her face emotionless, she could hear the conversations, the occasional sighs of disbelief, but it felt distant. Her head ached, her body ached, and she was exhausted in a way she had never known before. She nodded slowly when one of the paramedics asked her something, her body so heavy it felt like she could barely move. Her breath came in shallow measured intervals, her voice barely above a whisper as she responded to their questions.

I'm so tired

Rafe offered the occasional smile or reassuring nod when the paramedics addressed her, trying to keep her grounded in the moment. She didn’t speak much more, not even when the paramedic asked her about the pain. She simply shook her head. There were too many emotions swirling inside of her- too many things she wasn’t ready to voice.

“We’re going to take care of you, okay?” One of the paramedics said gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. “We’re going to take you to the hospital, get you checked out.”

Y/N nodded weakly, her eyes fluttering open briefly before closing again, the coolness of the paramedic’s hand against her skin felt soothing, but it didn’t stop the constant, nagging thought in the back of her mind- the reminder that things weren’t going to go back to normal.

From the corner, Rafe could hear more murmurs from the group. Topper, Kelce, and Sarah were still talking, their voices a little more animated now, though there was a sense of heaviness in the air. Rafe could sense the tension between them, the way they all seemed to know what had happened, but no one knew what to say next. No one could quite wrap their heads around the situation that had unfolded.

“Rafe, man, if you didn't kill him after what he did then I…” Kelce started, but he trailed off, glancing toward the paramedics who were still working on Y/N. There was no easy way to finish that sentence. They all knew what had happened, but it wasn’t something anyone wanted to openly discuss.

Not now, not in front of her

Sarah’s gaze was still fixed on the floor, but she glanced up at Rafe, her eyes filled with something close to sadness.

“Is she going to be okay?”

Topper’s voice cut through the quiet, his tone serious but there was a tone of hesitance under the facade, the girl was like his sister and he didn’t know how to react. His eyes weren’t on the Y/n, but on the paramedics, trying to gauge how dire the situation really was. The paramedic replied, her voice professional but with a hint of concern.

“She needs to be seen by a doctor. There’s some... - trauma, and we need to make sure she’s stable.”

The paramedics and Rafe helped Y/N slowly to her feet, the movement slow and careful as they supported her fragile form. She could barely hold herself up, her body shaking, a low wince escaping her lips as the pain between her thighs flared up. She didn’t want to show it, but the agony was almost too much to bear, and her breath hitched in the process. She bit her lip to keep from crying out, trying to push through the pain. The paramedics exchanged a glance, a subtle shift in their eyes that Y/N didn’t catch, but Rafe did. One of them spoke quietly, though not loudly enough for her to hear.

“We’ll give her a minute,” the paramedic murmured, her voice low but firm. They moved away from Y/N and Rafe, walking toward Shoupe, speaking in hushed voices. Y/N could barely focus on what they were saying, her head still spinning from the overwhelming pain and fear. She leaned heavily against Rafe, her body shaking slightly, trying to steady herself. He looked down at her, concern flashing in his eyes as he gently cupped her shoulder, holding her steady.

“You okay?”

Obviously she's not idiot

He asked softly, his voice a little rough, though gentle. The sound of it grounded her for a second, giving her something to hold onto in the chaos of her mind. Y/N sniffled softly, her eyes glossy with unshed tears as she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. Her voice was barely a whisper, a tremor lacing her words.

“Hurts.”

She managed to say, her voice cracking slightly, her body was so weak, she couldn’t seem to find the strength to do anything more than breathe, and even that felt like a struggle. Rafe nodded, a simple, wordless acknowledgment of her pain. His gaze softened as he stayed by her side, letting her lean against him, offering his steady presence.

Her body felt like it was made of lead, and she could barely keep her eyes open as Rafe guided her toward the stairs. As they reached the door, the house was eerily quiet. The loud music and laughter from the party were long gone, replaced by an uncomfortable silence. The lights were dim, the place now abandoned.

The cool night air hit her, and she winced, feeling her body react to the change in temperature. The ambulance was parked right outside the house, its lights flashing in a rhythmic pattern, casting eerie shadows over the driveway. Rafe led Y/N to the open doors of the ambulance, and with careful precision, he helped her inside. She barely reacted, her mind too numb to feel anything beyond the persistent ache in her body, she whimpered as she sat down, causing the boy to grit his teeth.

Rafe sat beside Y/N, his body leaning slightly toward hers but not touching her, trying to provide the comfort she so desperately needed. She was quiet now, her breathing slow as the two of them were left in an uncomfortable silence. Her body trembled, her mind still reeling from the night. Rafe watched her closely, his hand gently moving over to try and rest on hers, fingers hovering but not quite touching. She met his gaze, he could feel her anxiety pulsing through the air,

“You’re gonna be okay”

He whispered, his voice low and soothing, trying to calm her down. He could see the way she stiffened, she didn’t respond, but after a moment, she moved her hand towards his which was resting on the bed. Her fingers trembled, but she intertwined them between his cautiously. Rafe froze slightly in surprise of her actions but he squeezed her fingers between his softly, offering her a sense of stability.

I love you, I'm sorry

For the first time in what felt like hours, Y/N managed the smallest of smiles, so faint it was almost imperceptible, but Rafe saw it, and it made something in his chest tighten. They sat there in silence, their eyes locked for a moment. It was strange, comforting even, just to be there together, without words but before either of them could say anything more, the silence was broken by someone clearing their throat.

They both looked over and saw Shoupe standing there, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. His expression wasn’t one of anger, but it was far from calm. He stood, his sheriff’s hat in his hands, rubbing a hand over his face in frustration.

“Listen, I really don’t want to do this, alright?” Shoupe began, his voice deep and weary, though there was a tone of regret in his words.

“But I gotta follow the regulations.”

Y/N’s heart began to race, and confusion flashed across her face as she looked between Rafe and the sheriff. She couldn’t make sense of what was happening. Rafe bit the inside of his mouth, the weight of what was coming slowly sinking in. He didn’t want to look at Y/N, not now- not when he saw the panic beginning to build in her eyes.

Rafe knew what he was about to say. “Rafe, son…” Shoupe’s voice softened just a bit.

“You’re going to have to come with me.”

What?

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, her pulse quickening as the realization hit her like a cold wave. Her eyes widened as panic spread through her body. Her fingers tightened around Rafe’s hand, her grip desperate.

“What?” her voice was trembling. “No… you can’t do that—”

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” Shoupe said, his tone not unkind, but firm. “But the law’s the law. I’m just doing my job.”

Sarah, having noticed the change in Y/N’s demeanor, rushed over and she gently placed a hand on her shoulder, trying to calm her down, “it’s okay.” she said, her voice soft but reassuring.

Shoupe sighed heavily, his expression sympathetic as he looked down at Y/N.

“Look, if he did the right thing, you’ve got nothing to worry about. He’ll be out soon, alright? He won’t be gone long.”

But Y/N didn’t seem to hear him. She was shaking her head, tears threatening to spill as she looked up at Rafe, her eyes wide with panic.

“No, please don’t leave-” she whispered, her voice breaking, “Please I-” the words got caught in her throat.

I can’t do this without you

Rafe looked down at her, his jaw tight as he fought to keep his emotions in check. He didn’t want to leave but he had no choice, he had to face the consequences. His gaze softened as he spoke,

“I’ll come see you at the hospital, yeah?” he promised, his voice steady, though there was a quiet sadness behind the words because he knew it was a lie. He'd be lucky if his dad could even find a was to bribe him out of this.

“You’ve got Sarah, she’ll be with you the whole time.”

Y/N nodded, but the fear in her eyes didn’t dissipate. She reached for his hand again properly this time, gripping it with everything she had left. Rafe paused for a moment, then raised their conjoined hands, pressing a soft kiss to the back of her hand.

He reluctantly let her hand go, and as he stood, he met Shoupe’s gaze. The sheriff gave a small, nod, and Rafe turned to leave, casting one last glance at Y/N as he was escorted away, the lights of the police car flickering against his face.

The door to the ambulance closed, and Y/N felt the weight of everything crash down on her all over again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

taglist: @evermorx89 @bellaed1t @user381953 @lovemanheim @loves0phelia @yourcrackleflame @kundaquarius @matthewswifeyy @pillowprincess4him @lilithblackkk @sunny1616 @slut-4-gojo @louxmcl @stelleduarte @p0gue420

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silent-stories · 2 days ago

Text

𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐃 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 - 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader

Series summary: When Noah was left alone to take care of his daughter about two years ago, he never thought he would find someone else he would trust enough to include in his little family. But things can change.

Series masterlist

"Okay, recap moment," you began, sitting at a table in the café with Rick, Folio, and Grace, the sun beginning to set outside and filling the room with hues of red and orange.

"Ever since Jason came back to town, he’s wanted to win you back," Rick explained again after taking a slow sip from his coffee, his voice tinged with guilt. "And he asked for my help, because apparently I’m his only friend."

"So, the psycho has been trying to get your attention all this time," Folio interjected, "and when Noah left for a couple of days, he thought it was the perfect opportunity to do something that would drive a wedge between you two."

"So, he had you leave him," you pointed to Rick, "in front of Noah’s house after he got drunk, knowing that the next morning, Noah would find him there and think I'd cheated on him."

Rick lowered his eyes, unable to meet your gaze. "Yeah... that was exactly what he was hoping for. He knew Noah would be hurt, and he knew that would push him away from you."

"Noah didn’t want to listen to what you had to say because he thought what happened with Hannah was about to happen again. And now, he feels awful because he thinks it's his fault—like he can’t keep someone who loves him around," Folio continued.

"And you feel guilty because if you had realized Jason’s intentions sooner, maybe you could have stopped this from happening," Rick added, concluding the chain of events.

"Wow," Grace remarked. "I still have so many questions."

"Yeah, me too," Rick agreed. "Like, why are you even still here? You had nothing to do with any of this."

"Hey! I work here too, okay?" Grace shot back. "I have every right to stay as long as I want."

“So,” you turned to Folio, disregarding the bickering between the punk guy and your friend, or whoever Grace was to you, “what do you think I should do?”

"Go to him," Folio urged. "Talk things through. Please. I can’t keep watching him like this. I don’t think he’s showered in two weeks."

Grace wrinkled her nose.

"I'm sorry," Rick apologized. "If I hadn’t helped Jason, maybe none of this would have happened."

"Well, that’s how things played out," you replied. "And there’s no turning back."

"But things can still be fixed if you both put aside your fears and have a real conversation," Grace encouraged.

Folio leaned back in his chair, his gaze softening. "Exactly. It might not be easy, but if you want to fix things, this is where it starts."

"I’m not sure he wants to talk to me," you said, your voice uncertain as you stared down at the table, trying to sort through your swirling thoughts.

Grace looked at you, her expression a mix of frustration and concern. "Oh, please!" she exclaimed, leaning forward onto the table. "We know he loves you, and you love him. And it’s so obvious you both are suffering now! If you go to him and tell him everything was part of Jason’s plan, and that his weird friend here explained how things really went down, he’ll listen. I promise you!"

Rick shook his head, smirking but with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "Hey, weird friend to who, Barbie with black hair?"

Grace just rolled her eyes.

Folio sighed, but his voice grew more serious. "Look, trust me. Go to him, tomorrow. It’s been two weeks, and he’s starting to realize he let you go just because he was too scared. You can’t just sit around waiting for him to make the first move because he won't. He's in a depressive mood right now."

A silence fell for a moment as you thought about their words. Folio's eyes were sincere, and for a brief second, it felt like there was still a chance to fix things. You took a deep breath, the weight of the decision settling over you.

Finally, you nodded. "Okay," you said softly, "I’ll do it."

After Grace and Folio left, you and Rick stood outside the café, the cool evening air pressing against you as the sunset faded into the night. The streets were quieter now, the hum of the city barely reaching you.

Rick shifted uncomfortably, his hands in his pockets as he avoided your gaze. "I… I’m sorry," he said finally, his voice low. "I know you probably hate me right now for helping Jason, for being his friend. I know what I did was wrong. But he was the only friend I ever had, you know? And I just... I always did what he asked, because I didn’t want to lose him. I thought if I kept helping him, I’d prove I was a good friend. But looking at it now, I see I was just blinded by that need to belong. I'm so fucking stupid."

You were silent for a moment, taking in what he said. It didn’t make you angry. Instead, a sense of understanding washed over you. You shook your head gently. "I’m not mad at you, Rick," you said softly. "I don’t think you’re a bad person. You just... you need better friends. Friends who aren’t going to pull you into things like this. Friends who won’t take advantage of your loyalty."

Rick’s shoulders slumped as if a weight had been lifted, but there was still a trace of guilt on his face. "I don’t deserve your forgiveness," he muttered.

"You don’t have to deserve it," you replied with a small smile. "People make mistakes. What matters is what we do after." You paused for a moment, thinking carefully about the next words you wanted to say. "You can come see me, us, at the café anytime. If you ever need to talk, or just... hang out. I'm sure Noah would like you too, you know? You punched Jason, after all."

He looked up at you, his eyes slightly wide, as if your words were a relief he hadn’t expected. "Thanks. Really. I know I messed up, but I’m done following Jason. I’ve made my choice."

You nodded. "I’m glad to hear that."

Rick smiled, though it was a little uncertain at first. "I’ll come by sometime."

As you both turned to leave, you gave Rick one last look. "Thanks again, Rick. Take care."

And with that, you parted ways, but not with the same weight on your shoulders you had carried earlier. Things could get better—for both of you.

Noah sat on the couch, his legs stretched out in front of him, trying his best to smile as he tickled Luna, her giggles filling the air. It was a soft sound, the kind of laughter that once brought him a sense of peace, but now it felt like a distant memory.

He tried to focus on her, on her innocent joy, but the weight of everything pressing on him still felt unbearable. He could hardly summon the energy to keep up with her playful energy.

"Daddy! Knights don’t tickle princesses!” she said, holding up a finger as if to emphasize her point as she laughed.

"Oh really? So why am I doing that now?"

"Because you are a bad knight, daddy!"

Noah let go and finally dropped his hands to his sides, letting the kid breathe.

Luna, her tiny hands gripping his arm as she attempted to climb onto his lap, paused for a moment and looked at him with her big, innocent eyes. She tilted her head to one side, sensing that something was off. "Daddy," she said in her small, soft voice, "will Y/N come today?"

The question hit Noah like a punch to the stomach. He froze for a second, trying to think, his chest tightening as his mind raced for an answer. How could he explain this to her? How could he possibly tell his three-year-old daughter that the woman who had been a constant presence in their lives, the woman he had loved, was gone and might never return?

He forced a smile as he moved some strands of hair from her little chubby face, but it felt hollow. "No, sweetie," he said softly, trying to keep the sadness from his voice. "Y/N won't be coming here for a while."

Luna’s face fell for a moment, and Noah’s heart twisted at the sight. She didn’t understand, not fully. But she could already feel the absence. She blinked and then asked, her voice so innocent and hopeful, "Oh, is she on vacation?"

Noah nodded slowly, trying to hold it together. He swallowed hard, not knowing what else to say. "Yeah," he replied quietly. "She’s on vacation."

Luna seemed to accept that answer, her small face brightening again, and Noah couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. Was he lying to her? He didn’t know. But he couldn’t tell her the truth. Not yet. Not when he was still trying to figure it all out himself.

“Oh,” Luna said, her voice soft and wistful. “I wish I could go with her. I want to see the mountains with Y/N.”

Noah’s heart broke a little more as she spoke, the simple, innocent wish from his daughter ringing in his ears.

He looked down at her, her eyes filled with that pure, untainted hope, and he could feel the weight of the world on his shoulders. He wished things were different, wished he could turn back time and make the mess he had created disappear. But all he could do now was nod, his voice filled with emotion as he replied, “Yeah… me too.”

His gaze fell on the beaded bracelet on his wrist, the bracelet Luna had made with you. She seemed so happy when she gave it to him, saying that you and she had one similar too that Noah couldn't say no. He wondered where you put yours. If it was lying forgotten at the bottom of a trash can or if he was on your wrist too and if you were thinking about him like he was thinking about you looking at it.

The pink was an extreme contrast to his tattoos in a way that made him smile and made his skin burn at the same time.

Luna didn’t seem to sense the weight of his words. Instead, she smiled brightly, her small hands gripping his shirt as she pulled herself closer to him. “Maybe when Y/N comes back, we can all go to the mountains together, Daddy. And see bears.”

Noah’s throat tightened, and he could barely choke out a laugh. "Maybe," he said quietly, his voice breaking just a little. “Maybe we can.”

That late evening, you were at home, the wind outside picking up, howling against the windows.

But then, through the noise, you heard something else—faint, almost drowned out by the gusts of wind. It was a soft whimpering sound. You froze, wondering if you’d imagined it. Another sound followed, louder this time, and it was unmistakable.

You quickly made your way to the door, heart racing. Was someone out there? You opened the door cautiously. The wind whipped around you, but you could make out something small huddling near the porch steps.

A tiny, scruffy ball of fur, sat there looking up at you. You bent down, your breath catching in your throat. A small puppy—probably only a few months old—was staring up at you with big, wide eyes, the color of dark amber. The fur on its body was matted and dirty, but you could tell that, despite its appearance, it wasn’t in horrible condition. It was skinny, too, ribs showing a bit too much through its dirty fur but it didn’t seem too malnourished.

You crouched down, reaching out cautiously, speaking in a soft voice, “Hey there, little one… where did you come from?” The puppy didn’t flinch, but tilted its head at you, studying you curiously, its little tail flicking.

“Do you have a home?” you asked again, more gently this time, hoping it could understand. It just stared at you, unblinking, before it started to shuffle forward, its paws making soft noises on the porch.

“Well, I guess you don’t have a place to go, do you?” you sighed, your heart already melting at the sight of the poor thing. The puppy continued its advance, slowly squeezing between your legs and making its way into the house. You blinked, surprised, but then a soft laugh escaped you.

“Okay, I guess you've already decided where you're going to stay,” you said with a smile, closing the door behind you. You watched the little creature wander inside.

You paused for a moment, your mind spinning with what to do next. You glanced around the small space, eyes landing on the kitchen. Your fridge. Maybe there was something you could feed it.

Opening the fridge, you found some leftover chicken, cooked and ready to go. Without hesitation, you grabbed it, placing it down on a plate for the pup. You watched as the little dog immediately pounced on the food, devouring it in a matter of seconds, the sound of its chewing filling in the silence of the house.

As the dog finished, you crouched down beside it, rubbing its back, and you finally understood the puppy was a male. “What now, little one? You just going to stay here with me?” you asked, your voice soft.

The dog responded with a loud, excited bark, his tail wagging furiously as he jumped up in front of you, as if to say “Yes, please!”

You chuckled lightly. “Guess that’s a yes,” you smiled, patting the puppy’s head.

“Alright then, you can stay with me for now.”

Without thinking twice, you picked the little thing up, holding him carefully in your arms as you carried him toward the bathroom.

You turned on the tap, filling the bathtub with warm water, and carefully set the puppy down.

You took your time, softly scrubbing the dirt out of his brown and black fur.

Just as you were finishing up, the puppy suddenly shook his body, spraying water everywhere. You couldn’t help but laugh at the sight, the tiny creature soaking your clothes and the bathroom floor, but you didn’t mind. The laugh felt good, like a release, like a bit of normalcy in the chaos that had surrounded you lately.

“You really know how to make a mess, huh?” you said, wiping your face with the back of your hand as the dog looked up at you, his fur dripping wet and his expression utterly adorable.

After a few more moments, you helped the puppy out of the tub and wrapped it in a towel, rubbing it gently to dry it off. He seemed to enjoy the attention, snuggling into the towel as if it had finally found a safe place. You sat on the floor with him for some moments.

Then, you looked down at the tiny creature, now dry and warm, curled up on the towel beside you, his little eyes closing in contentment. “You're a good boy,” you said softly, smiling as the puppy let out a quiet yawn.

That night, he whined until you picked him up and let him sleep in the bed with you, his body pressed close to yours, keeping you almost as warm as Noah's had.

The next morning, before going to the café, you left enough food and water around for the dog before heading out, promising to think of a suitable name for him.

When you were at work, it had started raining, and when you stepped out of the coffee shop during the afternoon, it hadn't stopped yet.

The cold rain immediately soaked through your clothes as you reached your car.

The city streets were slick with water, and the dull hum of distant thunder echoed in the sky, but you barely noticed. Your mind was consumed with the need to reach Noah. You had to. You had already waited too much.

You got in, slammed the door, and turned the key. Nothing. You tried again. And again. The engine sputtered but refused to start, the engine light flashing mockingly at you in the dark interior. Your heart sank. You cursed under your breath and tried once more, but the car just refused to cooperate. It was as if the universe itself had decided that this was not the night for you to see Noah, that fate was conspiring against you, and all the progress you'd just made would come crashing down.

"This is ridiculous," you muttered, staring helplessly at the wheel. Frustration surged inside you, and you felt a lump rise in your throat. The rain was pouring harder now, and everything felt like it was falling apart.

But then, in that moment of frustration, something shifted inside you. You wiped your damp face with the back of your hand and exhaled, steadying yourself. This wasn’t the end, not yet. You weren’t going to give up this easily.

Noah was waiting for you. Even if maybe he didn’t know that. You couldn’t afford to let something as trivial as a car breaking down stop you.

"Fine," you whispered to yourself, the determination in your voice solidifying. "I’ll walk."

Without another thought, you opened the door, slammed it shut, and stepped back out into the pouring rain. The streets blurred with each step you took, your soaked clothes clinging to you as you began your journey toward Noah, your mind set on one thing: You needed to see him.

The rain was hitting the ground in heavy, unrelenting sheets, turning the streets into rivers when you reached Noah's house. The sound of it pounded against your ears, drowning out everything else. You stood there, drenched to the bone, the cold water soaking through your coat and clothes, your hair was wet, dripping down and sending a chill through your neck, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except getting to Noah.

Nothing mattered except Noah.

The cold air pressed against your skin, your heart pounded in your chest, thoughts spinning.

You reached the front door, the familiar house looming before you, but it wasn’t the same. It didn’t feel like home anymore. Not when everything had been shattered, and the quiet that hung between you two was almost suffocating.

Finally, you pressed the doorbell, the sound of it echoing louder in the still night than you had anticipated. The seconds felt like hours, and then, the door creaked open.

There he was, standing in the doorway, but he wasn’t the same Noah. His eyes were tired, bloodshot from lack of sleep, and his face was drawn. The person you had known—the one who laughed with you late at night, the one who made you feel safe—felt distant now, a ghost of the man you had loved.

He looked at you, and for a moment, there was nothing but silence as the rain kept pouring all around you. He didn’t say a word. Didn’t even move. You couldn't read him, it was like he was trying to keep you at arm’s length, afraid that if you got too close, you might shatter him further.

You opened your mouth to speak, but the words felt like they were stuck in your throat. What could you even say? How could you explain what had happened, explain how everything had fallen apart because of one man's manipulation? You knew this was your fault, too.

“Noah,” you said, voice shaky as you finally met his gaze. “I... I need to talk to you. Please.”

His expression remained overall hard, a wall that you couldn’t break through, not yet. He looked down for a moment, his jaw tightening, as if he was fighting the urge to turn away from you.

But when he looked at you, his eyes were soft, as if despite everything he couldn't look at you with anger.

"What?" he muttered, his voice strained, as if a single word was causing him physical pain.

You took a deep breath.

"Ever since Jason came back to town, I—I didn’t see it. I didn’t want to see it. I thought that chapter was closed, that he was a thing of the past, that I was done with him. And I was. Because I love you and I'll always love you and only you. But he wasn’t done with me. I should’ve known. And I... I was too fucking stupid to realize he never wanted to let me go. Not really. He wanted to win me back, to tear us apart, and I was blind to it."

He just stared at you, so you kept talking. Seeing him like that was absolutely breaking you.

"He asked Rick for help, a friend of his that understood he was doing something wrong and talked to me. And Rick, he... he just wanted to be a good friend. He didn’t understand. But Jason—he used Rick, manipulated him, got him to leave him drunk in front of your house, knowing that I would let him in because I am too fucking srupid and too fucking nice. He knew that you’d think I cheated on you. Knowing that you’d be hurt, that you'd doubt me, that it would rip us apart. He had everything planned. And I—I let it happen. I didn’t even see it coming. I didn’t realize what was happening until it was too late, until I saw the way you looked at me like I let you down like your ex. And I've never wanted that.

And now... now I’m standing here, soaked to the skin because I always forget to bring an umbrella with me and because I care about you, trying to find the right words, but there’s no easy way to explain this. No way to take back the pain I caused you. No way to undo what Jason did. But I need you to know this... I love you. More than anything. More than I ever thought I could love someone.

And I’m so fucking sorry for the mess I’ve made and for letting Jason ruin everything. I’m so sorry I didn’t see what Jason was doing. I’m sorry I didn’t realize sooner that I was losing you, that I was pushing you away when all I’ve ever wanted is to be with you.

I love you more than I ever knew how to say. I love you more than anything. And I need you to know that, to believe that, because it’s the truth. You’re the only thing that matters to me and I miss you. And I miss Luna. And I miss the family we built. The three of us. And if you can find it in your heart to forgive me... I swear, I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right. But please, Noah, don’t let me lose you. Not like this. Not because of an asshole who thought he had power on someone else's love."

After you finished confessing, Noah looked at you with a mix of confusion and concern for a moment, his brow furrowing as his gaze flickered over your drenched form. "Why are you completely soaked?"

You couldn't help but smile softly, a little amusement tugging at the corner of your lips, despite the moment. "My car wouldn’t start," you replied, trying to sound lighthearted, almost as if it was a silly inconvenience. "So I walked."

Before you could say anything more, Noah’s expression softened even more, and without another word, he stepped forward in the rain. His lips found yours with a sudden intensity, and it was like everything else melted away. You smiled against his mouth, the taste of him so sweet, so right, that it felt like you could stay in this moment forever.

You had longed for the sensation of his lips on yours, the warmth of his tongue dancing with yours, and the comfort of his arms wrapped around you for days.

His hair clung to his forehead as the rain soaked him through, and without thinking, you reached up to brush it aside, your fingers grazing the damp strands as you continued to kiss him, your hearts racing in sync. It was perfect. It was real. The kiss lingered, deepening, as if neither of you wanted it to end, until the air between you both ran out and you both pulled back, gasping for breath.

Noah’s hands were still on your hips, pushing you close to him.

His voice was low and vulnerable as he whispered against your lips, "I’ve dreamed of this moment for fifteen nights. I thought you hated me..I'm sorry I told you to leave. I was scared to lose you and so fucking jealous. I've never wanted you to leave. I love you.

I loved you from the first moment I walked into the café with Luna barely able to speak, when she raised her little hand to say hi. She didn't do it with anyone. But she did it with you. Maybe she also understood at that moment that you were going to be the most important person in both our lives."

You couldn’t help but smile, the warmth flooding back into your chest at the sound of his words. "I’ve walked in the rain for forty minutes for you," you murmured, your voice soft but full of certainty. "I’d say I don’t hate you at all."

He chuckled, the sound of it wrapping around you like a warm blanket. God, you'd missed that sound so bad. "I’d say I don’t hate you at all either," he replied, a grin tugging at his lips, and then he kissed you again, softer this time, as if savoring every second, every drop of rain falling around you both.

Tags: @anything-more-than-human @ladyveronikawrites @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @fadingangelwisp @xmads-omensx @iwasntstable @thisbicc @pathion @flowery-mess @into-the-grey @lacy1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @stardustsirenmelody @thewrstinme @hurricanesfollowyou @ichoosetenderomens @chey-h @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @missduffsblog

TBAF Tags: @klutzy-kay24 @mrscevans @concreteangel92 @iconic-taurus @niicoleleigh @cheyyyyr @supersquirrel1996 @respectfulrebel @clickmedead @whenyouwannafindlove @kenjipepsi1

#noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian x oc #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian #bad omens #bad omens fanfiction #dad!noah sebastian #dad noah sebastian x reader #tbaf #to build a family

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thefemmefatalexo · 1 day ago

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Toji SMAU - When love was always there

Chapter 13 - What comes after

Summary: You see him again on your first day of college. Fuck. Toji Zenin has been the bane of your existence since your first day of kindergarten. Over the 15 years you’ve had the “pleasure” of knowing him, he’s made it his personal mission to make your life a living hell. From chopping off your hair in kindergarten to pushing you into a pond on your first day of high school, Toji has done it all. You’d always thought he would choose a college far away from you, but as it has always been, fate came to kick your ass. Hard.

warnings: cursing, sexual language, mentions of bullying

an: sigh… i love him idc. SMOOCHES 💋💋💋

{chapter 12} ; {next}

taglist: @jinxiewritings @actuallyvalerie @clp-84

࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

The drive to the location Toji sent you feels longer than it should. Maybe it’s because your mind is racing, or maybe it’s the late hour amplifying the stillness of the world outside. You pull into the dimly lit park, heart pounding, and spot him immediately—slouched on a bench, an empty whiskey bottle dangling precariously from his fingers. He looks utterly defeated, the sharp edges of his usual confidence dulled by whatever demons have led him here.

You step out of the car and approach cautiously. His head tilts slightly at the sound of your footsteps, but he doesn’t fully acknowledge you. Instead, he mumbles something incoherent, his words slurred.

“Toji.” Your voice is firm, sharper than you intended. “Get up. You’re coming with me. Your parents can‘t see you like this.“

He looks up at you with bleary eyes, his face flushed from alcohol. “Y-you came,” he slurs, his words tumbling over each other. “Missed you… swear I missed you. I’m sorry, okay? For everything. Just… I’m sorry.”

You don’t reply, don’t give him the satisfaction of even a hint of forgiveness right now. Instead, you focus on getting him upright, looping one of his heavy arms over your shoulders and guiding him to the car. His steps are unsteady, his weight pressing into you as he leans more than he should.

The entire drive back, he’s rambling. “You… you don’t get it,” he slurs, his head lolling back against the seat. “You think I’m just some… some asshole, huh? You hate me. I can’t… I hate me too, okay?” His words are fragmented but raw, the emotions behind them impossible to ignore.

You grip the steering wheel tighter, keeping your focus on the road. He keeps going, his voice breaking every now and then. “I never wanted to hurt you… never wanted to… God, you probably think I’m a piece of shit.”

You don’t respond. You just drive, his drunken words filling the silence.

When you finally reach your apartment, you manage to drag him inside. He’s heavier than he looks, and he isn’t exactly helping. As soon as you guide him into your room, he collapses onto your bed, sprawling across it like he owns the place.

“Toji, get up,” you say, exasperated.

“Nah,” he mutters, burying his face into your pillow. “This is… I’m good here.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real malice behind it. Instead, you sigh and kneel down, tugging his shoes off one by one. When you straighten up, his eyes are on you, glassy but sincere.

“You’re… too good,” he murmurs. “Too good for me. Always have been. Don’t deserve you… don’t deserve this.”

“Toji, just sleep,” you say, voice softer than before, despite your frustration.

He doesn’t listen. “I’m sorry,” he continues, his voice breaking. “For everything I said. For… all of it. You… you didn’t deserve that. Not you.”

Your chest tightens at his words, but you don’t respond. Instead, you awkwardly climb into bed beside him, keeping as much distance as possible.

“I mean it,” he mumbles, his voice barely above a whisper now. “You’re… you’re the only good thing. Always have been. I just… I ruin everything.”

Tears sting at your eyes, but you blink them away. “We’ll talk in the morning, Toji,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

He nods faintly, and before long, his breathing evens out. You lie awake for a while, your mind racing with everything he’s said.

When you wake, the sunlight streaming through the window, you’re wrapped in his arms. His grip is loose but firm enough to hold you in place. You tilt your head slightly, studying his face in the soft morning light. There’s a scar on his lip, jagged and slightly faded. It hits you, a memory he once let slip years ago—that his older brother, Jinichi, gave him that scar during a fight. What had struck you most then was how casually he’d mentioned it, as if it were normal.

The thought churns uneasily in your stomach. His parents never punished Jinichi for it, just like they never seemed to care about all the other ways they neglected him. No wonder he resented his family, always carrying that bitterness like a second skin.

You carefully extract yourself from his hold, slipping out of bed without waking him. After a quick trip to the kitchen, you return with a glass of water, some painkillers, and a simple breakfast.

To your surprise, he’s already awake when you walk in. He sits up slowly, rubbing his eyes, and you wordlessly hand him the plate.

“Thanks,” he mutters, his voice hoarse.

The two of you eat in silence, the tension in the room palpable.

When you finally break the quiet, your voice is steady but firm. “Do you want to talk about last night?”

He glances at you, then looks away, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. “Yeah,” he says, barely audible.

You wait, giving him the space to speak.

“I’m sorry,” he finally says, his voice low. “For… everything. I ain’t good with this… this kinda shit, but… I know I fucked up. A lot.”

“You did,” you say, your voice soft but unyielding. “And I can’t just… pretend like everything’s okay now. You’ve hurt me, Toji. A lot more than you probably realize.”

He nods, still not meeting your eyes. “I know. And I ain’t expectin’ you to just… forgive me like that. But… I’m gonna make it right. However long it takes.”

You study him for a moment before nodding. “We can try… being friends. Maybe.”

His lips twitch into something that almost resembles a smile. “Yeah. Friends.”

Neither of you mentions the way you woke up tangled in each other’s arms.

As you clear the dishes, Toji sits back, lost in thought. In his mind, he recalls waking up in the middle of the night, your face illuminated by the moonlight. He remembers thinking how beautiful you looked, how peaceful.

Your full lips had been slightly parted as you slept, and his hand had rested lightly on your hip, almost as if it belonged there. He’d never noticed the softness of your skin before, but last night it had been impossible to ignore.

It hit him then, like a punch to the gut. You were… everything. Too good, too kind, too beautiful.

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jhyoos · 3 days ago

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REBEL GIRL

Chapter 5: Pose For Me

rockstar!sevika x influencer!reader

summary: caitlyn and sevika tags along with (y/n) for a lingerie shoot.

mentions: sevika being a perv and a asshole, modern au, fame au, swearing, touching, kissing, angst

notes: thank you guys for over 100 followers! also the next five chapters are gonna be so good you guys I promise. this is lowkey a filler.

When you arrived in Las Vegas, you were hit with the dazzling neon lights and the chaotic energy of the city, but all you could think about was crawling into bed and shutting out the world. Unfortunately, rest wasn’t on the agenda.

Your manager, Lauren, had set up a last-minute photoshoot with Skims to promote their newest lingerie line. The shoot was scheduled downtown, right in the heart of the bustling city. Normally, you’d jump at the chance to work with a brand like Skims and maybe even brag a little about being handpicked by Kim Kardashian herself—but not after a grueling seven-hour bus ride.

The ride had been less than ideal. The band, as much as you loved them, had been in full chaos mode. Between Vi’s questionable playlists, Jinx’s random outbursts, and Sevika constantly finding ways to tease you, it was a miracle you hadn’t lost your mind.

And now, with your stomach growling and a headache forming, you had to somehow look flawless in a shoot that demanded nothing less than perfection.

“You okay?” Caitlyn asked as you slumped into one of the hotel lobby chairs while waiting for your room key.

“Yeah, just need a nap before I can even think about being seductive in front of a camera,” you muttered, rubbing your temples.

Caitlyn smirked. “You’ll be fine. You always pull it off.”

Sevika, standing nearby, raised an eyebrow. “Wait—you’re doing a lingerie shoot? In Vegas?” she asked, her tone carrying a hint of intrigue.

“Yes,” you sighed. “And no, you’re not invited to watch.”

Sevika chuckled. “I wasn’t asking to. Just… interesting timing.

“Tell me about it,” you replied, rolling your eyes as the front desk finally handed over your key cards. You made a beeline for the elevator, desperate for even a moment of peace.

When you woke from your nap and dragged yourself out of the hotel room, you were surprised to see Caitlyn and Sevika waiting by the lobby entrance.

“What are you two doing here?” you asked, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

“We’re coming with you,” Caitlyn said, arms crossed. “You’ll need moral support, and I figured it would be nice to see how these shoots work.”

“Sevika doesn’t seem like the type for moral support,” you teased, raising an eyebrow at her.

“She’s just curious,” Caitlyn said, giving Sevika a pointed look.

“Curious about what?” Sevika asked, feigning innocence.

You rolled your eyes but secretly appreciated the company. “Fine. Just don’t distract me.”

The photoshoot location was stunning—a sleek, high-rise building with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the dazzling Las Vegas Strip. The studio was set up with luxurious props: velvet couches, golden lighting, and a team of stylists buzzing around like worker bees.

Lauren greeted you as soon as you walked in. “You’re late,” she said, glancing at her watch.

“I needed a nap. You took a first class flight. I had a 7 hour ride with annoying children that know how to play instruments,” you said unapologetically, pulling off your jacket. “Let’s get this over with.”

You were ushered to the dressing area, where racks of silky, lace-covered lingerie awaited you. The stylists worked their magic, curling your hair into soft waves and giving you a glowy makeup look that felt effortless yet glamorous. You slipped into the first set—a sheer black bralette and matching high-waisted bottoms with delicate floral embroidery. Paired with a silky robe, the look screamed elegance with a hint of edge.

As you stepped out of the dressing room for the Skims shoot, the atmosphere shifted. The sleek black lingerie hugged your figure perfectly, highlighting every curve and giving you an air of effortless confidence. You adjusted the straps slightly before walking onto the set, where Caitlyn and Sevika stood in the corner, watching. Caitlyn gave you a supportive smile, while Sevika leaned against the wall, her arms crossed and her expression unreadable.

The photographer directed you into the first pose, asking you to stand tall with your hands on your hips and your chin tilted slightly upward. The bold stance exuded power, and you felt the lights warm against your skin as the camera clicked. You risked a glance toward Sevika, catching her staring a bit too hard. Her sharp eyes were locked on you, and when she noticed you looking, she didn’t even bother to look away.

You quickly returned your focus to the shoot, deciding to let it slide. The next pose required you to sit on a plush velvet chair, crossing your legs and leaning forward slightly, your hands resting delicately on your thighs. You caught Caitlyn whispering something to Sevika out of the corner of your eye, her expression one of thinly veiled disapproval. Sevika shrugged, muttering something back, but Caitlyn’s brow furrowed even more.

The photographer asked you to stand and turn your back to the camera for the next shot. You glanced over your shoulder, giving a sultry look that would sell the new lingerie line effortlessly. The camera flashed again and again, and with each snap, you felt Sevika’s gaze burning into you. Caitlyn nudged her at one point, whispering something that made Sevika roll her eyes and look away briefly—though not for long.

Finally, the photographer directed you to lay across a chaise lounge, your arm resting above your head while your other hand trailed lazily along your side. The pose was elegant but daring, and you couldn’t help but feel a little self-conscious. The energy in the room felt heavy, especially with Sevika’s lingering presence.

When the shoot wrapped, you thanked the crew and headed back to the dressing room to change. Caitlyn and Sevika stayed behind, but you could hear their hushed voices just outside the door.

“She’s doing her job,” Caitlyn hissed, her voice sharp but quiet. “Don’t make this weird.”

“I’m not making it weird,” Sevika shot back, her tone flat but defensive.

“You’re staring at her like she’s the only thing in the room,” Caitlyn countered. “It’s disrespectful.”

Sevika didn’t respond immediately, and you could imagine her shrugging nonchalantly. “She doesn’t seem to mind.”

You rolled your eyes at their typical behavior. The photoshoot had been beautiful but exhausting. You were more than ready to get out of the lingerie set and back into something comfortable. Shrugging off the silky robe, you reached behind to unclasp the delicate lace bra—only for the door to open.

“Sevika, what the hell?” you exclaimed, quickly clutching the robe to your chest.

She stepped in and shut the door behind her, leaning back against it with that signature smirk. “Relax. I just came to check on you.”

“Check on me? Really?” you asked, arching a brow as she moved closer.

“Fine,” she said, her voice low as she towered over you. “Maybe I just wanted to see you.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop your heart from racing as she reached out to tuck a loose curl behind your ear. Her fingers lingered against your jaw, and before you could process it, her lips were on yours.

The kiss was slow at first, like she was testing the waters. But when you didn’t pull away, Sevika deepened it, tilting your head back to claim your mouth fully. Her hands moved to your waist, gripping you with enough force to make your breath hitch. The kiss was electrifying, full of tension that had been building for far too long.

Her lips left yours, trailing hot kisses along your jawline and down your neck, her hands moving over the silky fabric of the lingerie. “You look so damn good in this,” she murmured against your skin.

You gasped softly, her words sending a shiver down your spine. Her lips returned to yours, hungrier this time, as she pulled you closer, her fingers brushing over the delicate lace of your outfit.

“Sevika…” you managed to whisper between kisses, your hands gripping her jacket as if to steady yourself.

She hummed in response, her lips traveling back to your neck, her teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. One hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you flush against her, while the other ghosted over the strap of your bra.

“Wait,” you said breathlessly, pulling away.

Her grey eyes met yours, full of heat. “What?”

“You’re gonna ruin the lingerie,” you said, trying to catch your breath. “I have to return this… I can’t exactly hand it back with lipstick stains and stretched straps.”

She smirked, leaning in as if to steal another kiss. “You don’t need to return it. You could just keep it. Looks better on you anyway.”

You pressed a hand against her chest, stopping her. “Sevika, I mean it. I can’t… not like this.”

Her smirk faltered slightly, her brows knitting in confusion. “Why not?”

“Because…” You took a deep breath, your voice softening. “I can’t keep doing this—letting things get carried away. I don’t want this to be about… just pleasure. It’s getting too complicated.”

For a moment, she didn’t say anything, her gaze searching yours. Finally, she nodded, stepping back with her hands raised in surrender. “Alright. I’ll behave.”

“Good,” you said, exhaling in relief as you moved toward the mirror to finish undressing.

But when you noticed her still standing there, watching you with an amused grin, you turned back to her, pointing toward the door. “Get out. You’re not seeing anything else, ma’am.”

She chuckled, raising a brow. “You sure about that?”

“Out!” you said, shoving her toward the door.

Sevika opened it, still laughing under her breath as she stepped into the hallway. “You’re fun to tease,” she called over her shoulder.

You slammed the door shut and locked it this time, leaning against it with a groan. “She’s impossible,” you muttered, shaking your head as you finally managed to get changed.

When you emerged from the dressing room in your hoodie and sweatpants, tugging the hem of the oversized top down, Caitlyn was already seated on the lounge chair outside, arms crossed and an unmistakable look of disapproval on her face.

You frowned, running a hand through your hair. “What?” you asked, genuinely confused.

Caitlyn arched a brow and gestured toward the hallway Sevika had disappeared down minutes earlier. “Sevika said she’s gonna take a Uber back. Vi called her to make some last minute changes to the set tonight. Sevika was in there for quite sometime…”

Your eyes widened slightly before narrowing in mock irritation. “Seriously?” you asked, crossing your arms.

Caitlyn didn’t blink. “Well?”

You sighed, sitting down in the chair opposite her. “Fine, yes, I kissed her. But that’s it. Nothing else happened.”

Caitlyn leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees as her expression softened. “And why didn’t it go further?”

You hesitated, staring down at your hands. “Because… I don’t want to keep doing this back-and-forth thing with her. It’s fun in the moment, but I’m starting to feel something real, and I know Sevika isn’t the type for… whatever this is turning into.”

Caitlyn tilted her head, her voice calm. “Have you told her that? Or are you just assuming what she wants?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “I mean… no, I haven’t said anything directly. But I don’t need to. I know Sevika. She’s not a relationship person.”

Caitlyn gave you a pointed look. “People can surprise you, you know. And Sevika might not be as closed off as you think. It wouldn’t hurt to at least talk to her about it.”

You leaned back, pulling the hood over your head with a groan. “Why are you making this sound so simple?”

“Because it is simple,” Caitlyn said. “You’re overthinking it. If you feel something, say something. If she doesn’t feel the same way, at least you know where you stand.”

You peeked out from under the hood, your gaze skeptical. “And what if she just laughs in my face?”

Caitlyn smirked. “Then I’ll let you borrow one of my guitars to bash her over the head with.”

You snorted, finally cracking a small smile. “Thanks for the moral support, I guess.”

Caitlyn stood, brushing off her jeans. “Anytime. Now, are we grabbing food, or are you going to sit here overthinking for the next hour?”

You sighed, pushing yourself up from the chair. “Fine, food. But I’m not promising I’ll do any of that talking stuff you’re suggesting.”

“Baby steps,” Caitlyn said with a grin as she slung an arm around your shoulders.

The two of you headed for the hotel’s restaurant, the conversation lingering in the back of your mind. Talking to Sevika felt impossible, but Caitlyn’s words had planted a seed of doubt. Maybe it wasn’t as complicated as you were making it out to be.

And maybe—just maybe—Sevika wasn’t as unreachable as you thought.

Later that evening, after dinner with Caitlyn, you found yourself lounging in your hotel’s room. Caitlyn had gone back to her room, claiming she wanted an early night, and the others were scattered between the casino floor and their rooms. You were scrolling aimlessly on your phone when Sevika walked in with a spare room key. Her presence was commanding as always, but there was a subtle edge to her expression—something unreadable.

She didn’t say anything at first, just grabbed a beer from the mini-fridge and sat across from you on the couch. The silence between you stretched, thick and heavy.

Finally, she broke it. “So, about earlier,” she said, her tone flat.

You tensed but kept your eyes on your phone. “What about it?”

Sevika leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “You stopped me.”

You hesitated, glancing up at her. “Yeah, I did.”

“Why?”

You sighed, setting your phone down. “Because I didn’t want it to go further.”

Sevika frowned slightly, her dark eyes narrowing. “Why not? Didn’t seem like you wanted to stop at the time.”

“It’s not that I didn’t want to,” you said, your voice softer now. “I just… I can’t keep doing this with you.”

Her brows furrowed deeper, confusion and frustration flickering across her face. “Doing what?”

“This,” you said, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. “Whatever it is we’re doing. Hooking up, fooling around… it’s fun, Sev, but it’s starting to mean something to me. And I don’t think it means the same thing to you.”

Sevika’s expression hardened instantly, her features locking into something cold and unreadable. She leaned back, her jaw tightening.

“Wait a minute,” she said, her voice tinged with incredulity. “You’re catching feelings?”

Your stomach twisted at the way she said it, like it was absurd. “Yeah. I am.”

For a moment, she just stared at you. Then she scoffed, shaking her head. “I thought we were having fun. I didn’t think this was supposed to be anything serious.”

Her words hit like a punch to the gut, and you swallowed hard, fighting the sting in your eyes. “Of course you didn’t,” you said quietly. “Why would you?”

Sevika exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. “Look, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just… not that kind of person. I don’t do the whole ‘serious relationship’ thing. I thought you knew that.”

“Yeah, I do know that,” you said, your voice trembling slightly despite your effort to stay calm. “And that’s exactly why I can’t keep doing this. I’m not built for… whatever this is. I can’t just turn off my feelings, Sevika.”

She stood up abruptly, pacing a few steps away before turning back to face you. “So what, you’re just done? That’s it?”

“What else am I supposed to do?” you shot back, the frustration and hurt spilling out now. “Keep hooking up with you while I pretend I’m fine with it meaning nothing to you? That’s not fair to me.”

Sevika’s jaw clenched, her hands balling into fists at her sides. “I never promised you anything.”

“I know,” you said, standing up too. “And that’s the problem. You didn’t promise me anything, and you don’t want to. So I’m doing the smart thing for once and walking away before I get hurt worse.”

She didn’t respond right away, her gaze fixed on you like she was trying to find the right words. But whatever she wanted to say, she didn’t. Instead, she just nodded stiffly.

“Fine,” she said, her voice colder than you’d ever heard it. “Do what you gotta do.”

And with that, she turned and walked out, leaving you standing there with your chest aching and tears threatening to spill.

You stood frozen for a moment, staring at the spot where Sevika had just been. Her words echoed in your mind—"I thought we were having fun. I didn’t think it was anything serious."

The tears that had been welling up finally spilled over, but you quickly wiped them away, not wanting anyone to walk in and see you like this. You sank back onto the couch, your mind a storm of emotions. Anger. Sadness. Embarrassment.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t seen this coming. You knew Sevika’s reputation. You knew she wasn’t the type to settle down or make commitments. And yet, you let yourself fall anyway.

You didn’t even realize how much time had passed until Caitlyn walked into the lounge, her brows knitting together as she took one look at you.

“Hey, what happened?” she asked, sitting down beside you.

You shook your head, brushing off her concern. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

Caitlyn wasn’t buying it. She crossed her arms and gave you a pointed look. “You look like you’ve been crying. Did something happen with Sevika?”

Her name was enough to make your chest ache all over again. You sighed, leaning back against the couch. “Yeah. I told her how I felt… and she basically told me it’s not mutual.”

Caitlyn winced, her face softening. “I’m sorry. I know that must’ve been hard to hear.”

“It’s my own fault,” you muttered, rubbing your temples. “I knew what I was getting into, Cait. I knew she wasn’t serious about me. But I let myself believe, even for a second, that maybe she could be.”

Caitlyn placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. “It’s not your fault. You can’t help how you feel. And Sevika… she has her own issues. You shouldn’t beat yourself up for wanting more than she can give.”

You looked at her, appreciating the comfort in her words. “Thanks, Cait.”

She gave you a small smile. “Of course. Look, why don’t we get out of here? Clear your head a bit. There’s a café downstairs that makes great coffee, and you could use a break from… all of this.”

You hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, that sounds good. I just need a minute.”

Caitlyn patted your shoulder before standing. “Take your time. I’ll be in the lobby.”

Once she was gone, you took a deep breath and leaned back, staring at the ceiling. You wanted to be mad at Sevika, but deep down, you weren’t. She had been honest about who she was. You were the one who had hoped for more.

Still, it didn’t make the pain any easier to bear.

Later that evening, Caitlyn returned to the room, already dressed for the concert in her sleek, edgy ensemble. She looked at you, still curled up in your hoodie and sweatpants, and frowned.

“I thought you’d be getting ready by now,” she said.

You sighed, pulling your knees up to your chest. “I’m not going tonight. I just… I’m not feeling it.”

Caitlyn stepped closer, concern flickering across her face. “Are you sure? It might be a good distraction.”

You shook your head firmly. “No, I’m sure. I was going to record a vlog or something, but… I don’t even feel like doing that. Would you mind recording it for me? Just some clips from the concert?”

Her expression softened. “Of course. Anything specific you want me to get?”

“Just the usual—crowd shots, the band playing. Maybe a bit of backstage stuff if you can. Here.” You reached over to the desk and grabbed your camera, handing it to her. “I trust you with it.”

Caitlyn took the camera with a small smile. “I’ll make sure it’s perfect. Are you sure you’re okay staying here by yourself?”

You hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Just… bring me something sweet after the show. Chocolate or something.”

She chuckled softly. “Deal.”

As Caitlyn left, the quietness of the room enveloped you. For now, you had to focus on picking up the pieces.

You could deal with Sevika—and your heart—later.

taglist : @moodient @whatlefoop @nonexistentsourcherry @graciebloom @swordfemm4 @m00npjm @sevikasleftarm @fayecreates @artfairyyyyy @mulan-but-gay @inlovewithsevikaandambessa @sapphiellar @fudosl

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allthingsfangirl101 · 2 days ago

Text

*About Damn Time – Jake Seresin

Warnings: public kink, unprotected, teasing, language

I walked in from training, instantly taking my hair out of my tight updo. I ran my fingers through my hair, well aware of the eyes that followed me through the room. I knew all too well who was watching me. That just made it even more fun.

It was no secret - to anyone - that Jake Seresin had a massive crush on me. I found out after about the third time he scared off the hot guy talking to me at the bar. In fact, no one comes near me because of him. Not that I minded. I only wish he would finally tell me how he felt.

"Lieutenant Y/L/N," Jake nodded as I walked into the auditorium.

"Lieutenant Seresin," I nodded. "You look good."

"We're in the same uniform," he stuttered.

"Relax, Hangman," I said, playfully patting his face. "It's just a compliment. You act as if no one has ever told you how handsome you are."

"You think I'm. . ."

"Don't act like you don't know it," I teased him. To send him over the edge – and to give him a hint– I kissed his cheek before heading over to talk to Phoenix.

"He cannot take his eyes off of you," she laughed as soon as I walked over to her. "That poor boy."

"Hey," I said, putting my hands up in defense. "All I'm doing is flirting and teasing him a bit."

"All you're doing is torturing the man," she said.

"It wouldn't be torture if he did something about his feelings," I shrugged. "It's been 13 months of this. You think he'll finally tell me how he feels about me now that we might be put on different ships?"

"I don't know, sweetie," she shrugged. "I hope he does."

"Me too," I sighed. "Maybe I should just tell him how I feel."

"I thought you said the whole reason you haven't told him is because you wanted to let him be the man and confess his feelings for you."

"I thought so," I mumbled. "But I'm getting tired of waiting for him to finally do something about it."

I walked away, heading to check in. Little did I know that Phoenix was running to the others and coming up with a plan.

* * * * *

After graduation, we all changed out of our uniforms and went to the unofficial party. I ended up showing up a little late and by the time I got there, everything was in full swing.

"There you are, Y/L/N," Jake teased me as I walked in late to one of the other trainee's homes. "I thought you ditched us."

"You know I would never," I smiled as I patted him on the arm as I passed. "I got stuck talking to and taking pictures with my family. They finally went back to the hotel after I promised I'd meet them for breakfast."

"Guess that means you can't get batshit drunk," Payback smirked.

"I never said that," I said, looking over at Jake and sending him a wink. "I'll be right back. I gotta get out of this uniform."

"Aren't you going to help her with that, Hangman?" I heard Coyote taunt Jake as I walked into the bathroom down the hall from the kitchen.

I quickly changed out of my uniform and into the light blue silk floor-length gown. I was about to zip it up when I got an idea. I opened the door, instantly seeing Phoenix.

"Hey, girly," she smiled. "Need help with your dress?"

"I do," I smirked. "Any chance you can push Hangman into the hall?"

She looked into the kitchen and laughed. "Honey, he is hovering around the corner, waiting for you to come out. I'll mention something to him."

"Thank you," I said sing-songy as I closed the door.

I heard as Phoenix mentioned me taking a while getting into my dress. Jake cleared his throat before I could hear footsteps. Just then, I peeked my head out of the bathroom.

"Jake!" I whispered loudly.

"Yeah?" His breath got caught in his throat when he turned around and saw me barely dressed. "What's up?"

"Can you help me zip my dress?"

"Sure," he said, his voice dropping. I carefully held my dress to my chest as I walked out of the bathroom and turned around. "Thank you, Jake," I said, sounding like I was relieved. "I was hiding in the bathroom and thought I heard Phoenix."

I looked over my shoulder to see Jake focused on the fact that I wasn't wearing a bra underneath my dress. "Everything okay, Hangman?"

"Yeah," he said a little too quickly. He slowly reached forward and grabbed my zipper. I hid my smirk when he carefully zipped up my dress.

"All good?" I asked.

"All good," he said, his voice catching in his throat. I turned around and didn't hide my smirk when he checked me out.

"Jake," I said, sounding concerned as I gently reached up and felt his forehead and cheek. "Are you feeling okay? You look kind of flushed."

"I'm fine," he stuttered.

"Let's get you a drink." I grabbed his hand and led him into the kitchen.

"Damn, Y/L/N!" Payback laughed when we walked in.

"Jealous?" I smirked.

"I know someone who might be," Coyote mumbled, hiding behind his beer.

A few minutes later, I noticed Jake off to the side, listening to Fanboy, Phoenix, Bob, and Omaha argue about their fantasy football while I was listening to Rooster and Payback argue about who's got a better time on the track.

"I don't know why you boys are debating this," I scoffed. "Everyone knows that I've held the record for the fastest time since I joined your little training group."

"Y/N, can I borrow you for a minute?" Phoenix asked.

"Sure," I shrugged. "Not like I'm missing anything here."

"You are evil."

"How so?" I laughed. She looked into the living room, toward Jake.

"Do me a favor," Phoenix sighed as she looked back at me. "Please put that poor boy out of his misery and just tell him you feel the same. I can't handle him moping around and watching you from across the room with yearning in his eyes."

"I'm still waiting for him to tell me how he feels," I chuckled, sending her a playful wink.

"Well," she giggled, "let's give him a little push."

She grabbed my hand and pulled me back into the other room. "Whatever happened with that guy from your hometown?" She asked a little too loudly.

"What guy?" Rooster asked, glancing at Hangman whose beer was frozen halfway to his lips.

"No one," I pushed off. "He was an old neighbor, growing up. Apparently, he's here doing his residency and looked me up. He wants to get drinks."

"You gonna go?" Coyote asked, no-so-subtly looking at Hangman.

"Not sure," I shrugged. "He's an old friend, but I haven't seen him in a while. Then again, it's not like there's anyone else with a better offer."

I pretended to see someone trying to get my attention and excused myself. Instead, I hid around the corner and listened to everyone badger poor Jake.

"You good, Hangman?" Rooster laughed.

"Yeah," Payback chuckled. "You look like you're gonna throw up."

"Or kill a man," Coyote mumbled.

"Maybe the guy who's been pestering Y/N to go out with him?" Phoenix teased him.

"You heard her," Rooster smirked. "She'd forget him if she had a better offer. Anyone know of a better offer?"

Part of me did feel bad for teasing him like this. Jake is actually a great guy. He got a bad rap when we first started training. Sure, he's 'Hangman' when we're flying, but he's not actually like that when we're on the ground. He's literally saved me from a drunk creep at the bar on multiple occasions.

I hadn't noticed that they had stopped talking until someone grabbed my wrist and pulled me around the corner. Once they had me against the wall, I saw it was Jake.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I scoffed as I pushed him off of me. "You can't go grabbing people, Seresin."

"I'm sorry," he said, not sounding like himself.

"Are you okay?" I asked, my own tone of voice changing.

"Yeah," he said with a soft smile. "I'm okay. I just needed to talk to you."

"And you thought kidnapping me was the best thing to do?" I taunted him. "There's this thing called a conversation."

My sentence got caught in my throat when he took a step forward, trapping me between him and the wall. I couldn't look away from his eyes as he slowly leaned in. I grabbed his face and closed the gap between us. Our lips instantly started moving roughly in sync as we wrapped our arms around each other.

We both let out moans as he pushed me firmer up against the wall. He broke the kiss and reattached them to my neck. I leaned my head against the wall and closed my eyes as he explored from my collarbone to my ear.

"Shit, Seresin," I moaned.

"You've been driving me crazy, Y/L/N," he moaned against my skin. I gasped when he roughly kissed me again. This time, I broke the kiss and rubbed my hands up and down his chest.

"Follow me," I whispered. I grabbed his hand and led him down to the basement. The second we got to the bottom of the stairs, Jake turned me around. As soon as I was facing him, he leaned in and kissed me. I instantly wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him back.

Without breaking the kiss, Jake picked me up and put me on the counter. He opened my legs and stepped between them. Our lips moved in sync and our tongues danced as we held each other close. I ran my fingers through his hair as he slid his hands up my thighs, bringing my dress with him.

Unable to resist anymore, I roughly pushed him away. I hopped off the counter and landed directly in front of him.

I looked up at him with innocent eyes. "Can you help me with my zipper?"

His pout turned into a smirk when I turned around. He stepped up and dragged his hands up and down my arms. He kissed my neck as he slowly unzipped my dress. I turned around before letting my dress pool at my feet.

"Fuck," Jake moaned. "I knew you were gorgeous under that flight suit."

"You've thought about what I had underneath my flight suit?" I smirked. I reached forward and started unbuttoning his shirt.

"All the time," he moaned as I tore off his shirt.

"Well, good," I said as I grabbed the waistband of his pants and pulled him toward me. "To be honest, I've often thought about what you had underneath your flight suit. Especially when I am alone. . . Late at night. . . Or in the shower."

"Fuck," he moaned again as he crashed his lips onto mine. I wrapped my arms around him as he pulled me into his chest. He backed us up until we collapsed onto the couch. As Jake climbed on top of me. I pulled the waistband of his pants down.

Jake tore his lips away from mine as we finished undressing. His eyes glanced over my bare body before he rolled his body down mine. I arched my back and moaned when his body pressed firmly to mine, smashing all the right parts together.

"Oh Jake," I moaned as he continued to rub his body against mine.

"Fuck, Y/N," he moaned back. "I want you so bad."

"Then take me," I grunted loudly before grabbing his face and bringing his lips down to mine. "Finally take me."

Jake pressed his lips back to mine as we both adjusted. Without breaking the kiss, he grabbed my leg and wrapped it around his waist. I arched my back and moaned against his lips as he pushed himself into me.

"Holy shit," he groaned against my lips.

"Oh baby," I moaned as I bit his bottom lip. He chuckled before focusing back on his hip movements. The more he moved his hips, the weaker mine got. I squeezed my eyes shut as the pressure built.

"Fuck," he swore under his breath. I opened my eyes to see him watching me.

"What's wrong, baby?" I purred.

"Nothing," he stuttered through his grunts. "Just watching your face change as I. . . As I make. . . Seeing the effect I have on you."

I arched my back, bringing my face closer to his. "Just you wait, baby. There's a whole lot more we got to do."

"Fuck!"

I gasped when his movements got deeper and sharper. He kissed my neck as I dragged my hands up and down his bare back.

"I have wanted you for so long."

"And I have wanted you," I gasped, Jake's movements cutting me off.

Our lips reattached as our hips continued to dance. We could hear the party going on upstairs, but neither one of us cared. We only focused on each other; our movements, our lips, our feelings.

"Shit!" I moaned as I reached orgasm.

"Shit," Jake echoed me. He gently pulled out of me but remained hovering over me. "Y/N," he whispered, "there's something I've been dying to say to you since we first met."

"And what's that?" I asked as I snaked my arms around his neck.

"I'm crazy into you," he said, pressing his forehead to mine. "The thought of not being with you literally drove me mad. Now, the idea of someone else getting to have you makes me ready to get kicked out of the Navy."

"Don't do that," I pouted. "Then I'll be all alone."

"I will never let that happen," he whispered.

* * * * *

After going another round, we quickly got dressed and tried to make ourselves look like we didn't just hook up. With matching smirks on our faces, we headed back upstairs.

"And where were you two?" Payback smirked as he folded his arms and studied us.

"Downstairs," Jake smirked, "in the basement."

He grabbed my hand and led me into the kitchen. I winked at Payback and the others.

"Finally," Phoenix chuckled. Rooster laughed as he agreed.

"About time they hooked up."

#glen powell #glen powell fanfic #glen powell imagines #jake “hangman” seresin #jake seresin #top gun maverick #glen powell smut #jake seresin hangman smut

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maypiles · 2 days ago

Text

VERY TOO SCARILY SPECIFIC MESSAGE WANTING TO COME THROUGH 🥀

❗Take what resonates and leave what does not. Please don't try to force the reading this is very too specific message❗

So, today was supposed to be a cute little "pick a pile" day, you know, something simple, but nope, Spirit decided otherwise. I woke up with this weirdly specific download that hit me like a truck, and now here we are. I swear, Spirit is out here writing soap operas, and I’m just the messenger. If this post finds you, it's for you—or someone you know. Maybe it’s a sign, a wake-up call, or that nudge you’ve been ignoring for way too long. Either way, buckle up because this one’s not just a message; it’s a plot twist. Let’s get into it.

All right, buckle up, because Spirit is coming for your life today, and I’m just the messenger. First off, let me tell you, I don’t even listen to Billie Eilish, okay? except for that one TikTok trending line from "NDA": "You hit me so hard, I saw stars, you couldn’t save me, but you can’t let me go." That’s literally the anthem of this message. I woke up with that playing in my head, which means Spirit decided this needed to be channeled urgently. Whoever stumbles upon this post, it’s not just a coincidence. Spirit does not play around, and this message will either hit you right in the feels or make you think of someone who’s in this exact situation.

Let’s talk about what’s going down:

This reading is so tied to Pile 3 from my last post that it might as well be a sequel. If you picked Pile 3, or even if you didn’t but felt drawn here—hello, welcome, Spirit has entered the chat.

What Spirit is screaming at you about:

There’s a divine feminine in the spotlight here—a true Empress, possibly a Taurus (big Earth energy, though she’s got fire placements, don’t @ me). This is a woman who’s spiritual AF, the kind who probably keeps lunar moth symbolism somewhere in her Pinterest boards. Spirit is showing me snow, transformation, and the sun breaking through—a metaphorical rebirth.

This Empress is in a marriage or committed relationship with a fire sign masculine, and Sagittarius is loud here. But let me just say it: this connection is dead. D-E-A-D. It’s like a decaying fruit you keep trying to salvage but deep down, you know it’s only attracting flies. Sis, you’re not satisfied, and you’ve been suspecting him of cheating—maybe you’ve even gone full-blown FBI mode looking for proof. And guess what? You might not find anything in his phone because this isn’t just about infidelity. This is divine orchestration. (Spirit says you're manifesting him to. ArE yUo??)

About him:

(I hear spirit calling him a bitch 🙂)

Your fire-sign masculine (showing up as the King of Wands reversed) isn’t cheating out of malice. It’s not about you. He’s being karmically redirected, facing his own lessons. Spirit says this isn’t your burden to carry anymore. Let him go, let him learn, because you are being called to step up into your Empress energy. This is your moment.

And, oh, honey, let’s talk about the real tea: there’s someone else in your energy—a true Emperor (big Virgo vibes, but there’s a hint of water there too). I’m not saying this is a "right now" situation. This feels like a "right person, wrong time" scenario. You’ve been lowkey denying your feelings, but Spirit is like, "Stop lying to yourself." Dreams? Pay attention to them. That spicy one you had? Yeah, it’s not random. That’s the new person energetically knocking on your door (or could be someone you already know).

The storm before the glow-up:

You’re being asked to walk away, even though it feels like a storm. The Tower is here, loud and proud, because this divorce (or separation) will feel like a loss—but it’s actually your victory. This is your transformation, your cocoon-breaking moment. Yes, it might take time—Spirit says several months to a year and a half—but the delay is working in your favor. Why? So you can fully heal, step into your power, and reunite with your true soulmate at the right time.

Details Spirit won’t let me skip:

Uranus energy: Sudden changes, rebellion, chaos. This might feel overwhelming, but it’s the catalyst you need. Also, Uranus could be strong aspected in your chart or it could be your dominant planet or in your seventh house even. OMG IS IT 7TH HOUSE AQUARIUS?

Age gap: You might be older than your new person (the Emperor), and school or mentorship could be significant.

Health issues: Some of you might be dealing with migraines, anxiety, or even a literal broken bone. Take care of yourself.

Ancestry: Someone here might have Syrian heritage, listening to Syrian songs, travelled to Syrian, or that’s significant in some way.

Spiritual practices: You’re already intuitive AF, but Spirit is asking you to trust that. Your High Priestess energy is peaking, babe.

The cards are screaming:

The Ace of Pentacles and Empress are your starting and ending points. Spirit is giving you the tools to build something solid, something aligned with your true self. But first, you have to let go of what’s not working.

Your fire sign masculine (again, King of Wands reversed) is showing up with the Nine of Swords, Tower, and Five of Cups—he’s bringing chaos, regret, and heartbreak. Meanwhile, your Virgo Emperor (King of Pentacles) is all about stability, love, and real partnership. This is a 10/10 upgrade, sis.

But here’s the thing: Spirit isn’t just handing you this glow-up. The Hanged Man, Hermit, and High Priestess are asking you to do the inner work. Shadow work. Letting go. Closing cycles. And don’t rush the process—this transformation is meant to take time.

The Judgment, World, and Fool cards are here to say: You’ve got this. Close the old chapter, embrace the new beginning, and trust that you’re being divinely guided.

Spirit’s final mic drop:

Your outcome? Ten of Cups, Sun, Ace of Cups, and Emperor energy. You’re stepping into your divine alignment, creating the life you’ve always dreamed of. This isn’t just a glow-up—it’s a full-on cosmic upgrade.

So, sis, stop running in circles. Let go of the fear. The snow is melting, the sun is rising, and your wings are ready to spread. Transformation is here.

P.S. Don’t you dare ignore your dreams. Spirit is spilling the tea while you sleep.

EDIT: THAT BITCH OF SPIRIT ISN'T DONE YET

All right, let me just start this edit by saying Spirit is relentless and will not let me breathe. I was ready to hit post on this whole saga, but nooo, here I am dragging my oracle deck into the chaos because Spirit said, "We’re not done yet. Pick it up."

And guess what? The oracle cards came in guns blazing, like, "Hey, you forgot to mention that the Divine Feminine is basically scripting her entire life right now." Oh, you wanted closure? Nah, here’s a manifested trilogy, complete with cheating, divorce, a second marriage, and that one soulmate who’s been lurking in the shadows of your dreams like a rom-com waiting to happen. You’re welcome.

Let me spell it out for the DF here because Spirit has no chill:

1. Make the effort: That great love you want? It’s on the way, but only if you stop stalling and take the steps you’ve been guided to take.

2. Divorce: It’s not just a breakup; it’s a rite of passage for your soul’s growth.

3. Very soon: Time to get clear. What do you want? (Hint: it’s not what you’re clinging to.)

4. Calling in your soulmate: Prayers, visualizations, affirmations? You’re doing it. That soulmate? They’re clocking in.

5. True love: Spoiler alert: It’s the real deal. But you’ve gotta clear the karmic clutter first.

And can we just talk about this plot twist for a second? The Divine Feminine is over here manifesting the entire package—the cheating, the heartbreak, the rebirth, the glow-up, and the reunion with her Emperor. She’s scripting this life like it’s her magnum opus. Even Spirit’s like, “She’s got the vision, so let’s give her the drama to match.” LET HER COOK.

But don’t get it twisted. This is not just chaos for chaos’s sake. Every step is part of the Divine Master Plan™. Karmic lessons? Check. Shadow work? Oh, absolutely. And that second marriage? Let’s just say it’s not just about love—it’s about stepping into your highest self and finally getting what you deserve.

So, DF, if this reading feels like it’s dragging you, just remember: Spirit’s not being mean. Spirit’s being specific. Now go journal, light some candles, and make peace with the fact that you’re the main character in this cosmic soap opera. Stay alive, and may your karmic lessons lead you straight to your Emperor.

URGH 😩 let me just get this off my chest because I feel personally attacked by Spirit right now. Like, what do you mean "too specific"? Since when is being specific a crime? At this rate, my blog is going to turn into a full-on "channeled therapy hotline" because Spirit just keeps exposing people—and apparently me too, for reasons I do not appreciate. Let me tell you, I woke up with Billie Eilish in my head (again, Spirit, WHY), channeling your entire life story, and now it’s giving "TikTok psychic who accidentally goes viral for saying someone’s cat is named Buttons." Like, do you see how specific this is getting? Lunar moths, snow, Syrian ancestry, migraines? It’s like, Spirit, please chill before I need to call my own hotline for emotional support. At this point, I might as well start a TikTok because these pick-a-pile readings are out here turning into full-blown docuseries. Who even needs to pick a pile anymore when Spirit is like, "No, we’re just going to read you for filth directly and leave no room for ambiguity. DELIVER THE MESSAGE AND SHUT UP." And don’t get me started on the energy of this whole post. I feel like some of y’all are reading this and thinking, "Wow, this sounds like a private consultation." Like, yeah, it does, doesn’t it? Because Spirit doesn’t know how to keep things light. But fine, if this is what we’re doing now, let me just embrace my destiny as the internet’s most oddly specific tarot reader. My TikTok bio would probably say something like: "Tarot? Sure. But also your migraine, that spicy dream, and why your cat is staring at the wall—let’s unpack it." Anyway, to whoever needed this reading: I hope it hit. Because Spirit made sure it would. Now go handle your business, close those cycles, and let me go journal about why I suddenly feel exposed by my own cards. Stay alive. 💋

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rei-ismyname · 2 days ago

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Uncanny X-Men #8 review - Raid on Graymalkin finale

Raid on Graymalkin has been a strange event in a lot of ways. It happened very early after an editorial and creative team change, it's only four issues spread over 2 books, and perhaps most of all, editorial both spoiled the ending and hyped up an ideological divide between Rogue and Cyclops. The big question is 'was the hype paid off?' Sadly, no - Uncanny #8 doesn't so much land the plane as crash it into a mountain. A plane crash can be a spectacle though, let's break it down. At the very least it looks great. This is a long one, so strap in.

We get to know Scurvy a little better.

X-Men #9 ended with both teams in Scurvy/ Philip's psychic thrall and Charles Xavier taking the stage after Kurt and Kwannon freed him. Uncanny #8 opens with his POV of his recent history, showing a 'Not All Mutants' mutant and how he ended up in an abusive relationship with a right wing podcast host. Well, it shows how they met, how his powers work, and how Warden Ellis has used him.

His powers aging him drastically explains why he's reluctant to go all out and perhaps how his powers helped an Infowars knock off to get this job. YMMV on whether this makes him sympathetic; it's certainly a 180 from the plain pathetic he has been portrayed as thus far. We spend a lot of time with him this issue, but it's all so vague I don't feel like we actually know all that much about him. He is portrayed as a victim, though he's also in the process of frying our heroes' brains and enslaving people. On the other hand, we get so little of his motivations and feelings that there's not much there. Villains/antagonists need to be developed to be interesting, and I'm not sure if Scurvy is a victim of Ellis' crusade or a self hating mutant who gave 'everything to a dream' for ... reasons. He's literally killing himself and it'd be good to know why.

Scurvy has been hyped as a Psychic on par with Xavier, something Xavier himself hasn't exactly confirmed but he has admitted Scurvy is an obstacle. They haven't met but Scurvy's been aware of Xavier, presumably because he's world famous and announced Krakoa to everyone on the planet. Scurvy suggests it's more than that - he and Charles are part of a group of five mutants called Avians, one of whom died - Harvey X. Chuck has had an oversized presence in Simone's Uncanny X-Men and another vague mystery about him takes up space that could be used to develop other characters - The Outliers, Jubilee, Nightcrawler. This 'Avian' business feels like The Twelve and other similar half baked plots, and how can Charles have a tumour if he's in a relatively new body? He died last in Inferno AFAIK, but more than that it feels unnecessary. I'm not invested in believing or disbelieving it, though Chuck dying might make X-Manhunt more interesting.

Chuck isn't showing up again until March, and Scurvy ages 10 years during this issue. Why are we spending all this time on these people that aren't main characters? Does Xavier really need to be part of some special unexplained group? He's been a very special and prominent part of the X-Men since 1963 - new old girlfriends and vague hints of specialness feel like mystery box overkill. Maybe Scurvy is lying as part of their psychic battle. Laws of narrative economy suggest otherwise, but either way - what's the point? Also, Avians? Are they birds? Maybe it's a Shi'Ar thing but right now it sounds ridiculous. Avians 🙄

Juggernaut knocks Rogue out of Scurvy's control and she thinks she has time to do the same to one other person. She apologises to Gambit for not choosing him and picks Cyke as the tactical choice, nearly knocking his head off. He snaps out of it too and shit gets bizarre.

For some reason Scott chooses this moment to berate Rogue for 'bringing kids into a war zone' which is a super valid point but I find it difficult to believe he'd bring it up while they're on the back foot and threats are everywhere. Rogue's answer is even more puzzling. I can believe she'd make an appeal to emotion but it's not a real answer. 'At least we don't have Magneto on our team' is not a rebuttal to nearly getting children killed, but it also does not make sense.

Magneto has been reformed for YEARS at this point and was a driving force behind Krakoa. She's saying like he's some irredeemable villain when he's the most heroic he's ever been. He and Rogue had zero interaction on Krakoa, where he was considered a national hero and famously was very tight with her hero Xavier. If she has an issue with the sins that came to light after Inferno, then she wouldn't be so charitable to Chuck, either. Maybe it's Scurvy's influence, but if so then what's the point? This isn't ideology, it's dodging the question at worst or petty bickering at best. Has Rogue forgotten her extensive history with Magneto, or her own start as a villain? What about her husband's involvement in the Mutant Massacre or her parents' unrepentant villainy? When considered in the context of Simone saying that Rogue and Cyclops would occupy the Xavier/Magneto relationship it looks like a missed shot. You'd have to ignore decades of history to make it work. Sigh, this was an unforced error and it really bums me out.

'I'm never going to be you and you're never going to be Professor X' is flat out weird. Cyclops answer of 'good' is consistent with his argument last issue, but it makes it look like they're not having the same conversation. Finally they realise they're in a war zone and only now does Rogue defer to Cyclops. Oookayyy. They say 'Magik and Wolverine' together in a moment that's both cheesy as hell and should underline their commonalities. I'm almost feel bad ragging on this, but it's not executed well. At least Rogue is consistently characterised as a cowboy. That's something.

Magik and Wolverine start freeing people then stop to agree not to kill each other. Deathdream says weird stuff, as usual, and the two make up. Jitter has her second instance of love heart emoji'ing a woman, which is cute but still deniable as actual WLW representation. I hope Simone cashes this cheque.

Queerness should be something that's not notable in a perfect world, just a part of the character. We don't live in a perfect world though, and we don't know a lot about Jitter. We know her powers, that she's Malay Singaporean, that she has a stutter, and that she possibly likes women. It's not enough for issue #8 of the flagship series. The choice was made to heavily focus on Xavier and Sarah Gaunt, and a casualty of that was getting to know main characters. It wouldn't be such a big deal if the payoff was worth it, but what did we actually learn? Instead of giving readers a break from Charles Xavier, he's been a regular presence. His appearance in this event could have been more impactful but I feel like we never had a chance to miss him.

Kwannon and Kurt reveal that Scurvy made them fight, which Rogue is aware of, and she adds that 'we're broken.' I'm not sure what that's supposed to mean, but this undermines the stakes of the ideological conflict. Is it manufactured or isn't it? None of them consider attacking Scurvy while he's fighting Xavier, either. Nobody is acting like they're in danger. It feels unserious, like the characters are just waiting for things to happen to them.

At this point I don't really care who Inmate X is. Uncanny X-Men has been dropping these mystery boxes that readers can only guess at, and like with Harvey X being the one pulling strings, it comes out of nowhere. It's another Avian, which means nothing to us beyond a vague implication of specialness. We know that Ellis considers it a bad thing if he get out of his cell, but that doesn't narrow it down aside from it being a he.

Aw, cripes - popular gen Z saying

Interestingly, Xavier's astral form is that of his Cerebro-helmeted onesie twink. It could reveal that he hasn't changed at all in how he sees himself and his role as shepherd of mutantkind. It's very different from his classic astral battle appearance, and I love it thematically and visually. Scurvy and Chuck as astral giants towering over the schoolprison is striking, though the casualness of their dialogue mutes it somewhat.

Not sure how Ezra or Ellis can tell Scurvy is losing a battle on the astral plane, but she does what she should have done before this and gets a gun. Calico is overjoyed that the Outliers (except Jitter) came for her, but what could be a heartwarming moment is undercut by their dulled expressions. I can buy Deathdream doing this, but Ransom has been emotionally aware prior to this. We have zero details, but aren't these kids tight after months of being on the run together?

It's finally time to stop standing around, as Ellis and guards are here with guns. The X-Men, having already beat up plenty of these dudes, aren't impressed. They stand together (no idea where Chuck and Scurvy got to) and Cyke urges her to stand down, pointing out that they're not as nice as the Avengers. Rogue agrees in the shittiest way possible, thinking 'sometimes visor boy says jus the right thing.' Weird ableist stance from Rogue, but all it does is highlight how shallow their conflict is and remind us that Gail Simone doesn't like Cyclops.

Ellis doesn't blink, telling them her 'brother died because of trash like you.' We knew this already, and I'm wondering if there's anything else to her. She's established as a threat but she's not especially interesting. She helped with Sarah Gaunt out of empathy (?) but here she is flinging the same old slurs. I'm not sure if her dark skin is meant to be noteworthy or say anything. So far it hasn't been a part of her character in any way other than visual, no commentary on how someone who has experienced minority oppression becomes so hell-bent on dealing it out herself. How does a person become willing to enslave and torture, and even (as we'll see) destroy two towns with thousands of humans in them? Her brother died, sure, but that's thin characterisation for a multi-arc villain.

Chuck wallops Scurvy with an uppercut!

Ellis brings out The Trustees again (who the X-Men easily defeated) to have Blob recite 'the pledge.' Very messed up but it shouldn't exactly convince the X-Men to do anything other than smash this place to pieces. She threatens to let Sarah Gaunt loose from her comically large chains that shouldn't stop her for a second.

Cyclops points out that with Scurvy's defeat Ellis' big gun is down. She laughs at that, and for some reason Chuck doesn't immediately take over her brain. Her big gun is more literal - a fucking network of sonic cannon satellites. Who TF gave this lady a Death Star? She has Merle and Haven targeted but Rogue thinks she's bluffing. Logically, you'd think so. Would the US government really accept this maniac destroying towns with a space laser? Not sure how they'd spin that. Also, neither team have any leverage to stop her using it whenever she wants. I feel like she's forcing them to kill her right here and now, lest their strategic position becomes 'able to be killed at any time without effort.' They could even just send her on permanent vacation to Limbo, see how her bullshit flies with Maddie Pryor.

Ellis lets them take the people they came for (why?) but that's not enough for Rogue. Siryn speaks to Rogue personally while crying, indicating she's herself, as much as she can be with all the torture, mind control, and who knows what else? It's only when Xavier intercedes that Rogue listens.

Charles explains why he needs to be in prison (though we know he'll change his mind and escape in March) and they have an emotional exchange. It works, I guess, but Rogue looks super selfish and ignorant. Free Charles for personal reasons when he doesn't want it at the cost of two towns? Doesn't seem like much of a choice (other than knocking Ellis out while she's in your face.) It feels a bit regressive for Rogue, too. She is aware of everything from Fall of X (including Chuck manipulating one of her mothers and trying to permanently kill the other) and hadn't really had or needed a mentor in a long time. Sure, everyone is lost after Krakoa, but WTF is she so attached to Xavier? It's great that he was the first to believe in her but this feels almost infantilising. Rogue is better than this.

Scott has Magik open a big portal before 'she' can stop you. I assume 'she' refers to Rogue, except Rogue is shown willingly walking through it with everyone else. Ellis wasn't interested in stopping them. It's like everyone has the script and realises the event is over so it's time to go. I have difficulty believing any of these characters would just meekly leave, not because of Xavier, but the multiple sonic space cannons that can kill them anytime plus their enslaved comrades. There's eight regular ass humans with guns in the way and this is their shot to do anything about it. How many of these X-Men could take them all out by themselves? Cyke could optic blast them unconscious, Magik has multiple methods, and many of the others could just punch them while ignoring bullets.

Yo, where's Quentin? He arrived with you guys.

Once Rogue has walked through the portal (clearly willingly and without duress) she objects again - 'no. We can't leave him there!' Cyke echoes Charles' own words and promises to get the others out, but Rogue punches him maybe ten feet and not only repudiates Scott's promises (?) but places the blame entirely on him. He blasts her and tells her to grow up (kinda fair) but then their teammates hold them back. Beast tells Scott he won, but this looks like a narrative trick to pretend Cyclops wanted to fight or has any reason to.

Rogue turns to leave with mild venom and her team follows. Hank assures Scott that he had no choice and Scott disagrees but doesn't elaborate. I hate to see X-Men fight but it's even worse when it's over nothing. The post-portal events feel like Simone going 'hmm, didn't really sell that ideological divide or their falling out, fuck it, just have Rogue punch Cyclops.' I think Cyclops was mostly right here, but it's more than Rogue was wrong and the conflict was contrived. I just don't buy the degree of animosity Rogue has and all the reasons given feel out of character. If that's who Rogue is right now I can accept it, but it's not very heroic and she's had multiple egregious failures of leadership. If this is identified as a character flaw that needs working on or a mistake that she regrets it could make for interesting storytelling, but all the information we have suggests that's not the case. Uncanny is frankly a trainwreck, but at least it looks fantastic. The letters page and other media suggests a lot of people are enjoying this book, and I couldn't be happier for them. I just wish I was too. I'll keep reviewing it of course, and I'll be less harsh than this review was. It was hyped and it called shots and didn't deliver. Doing that sets expectations and gives me another metric to judge it by. Hopefully we can get on with learning about the characters who've been neglected.

As for Raid on Graymalkin as an event, it had its ups and downs. Most of the ups were in X-Men and most of the downs were in Uncanny. Ultimately it didn't fulfill the promise it made so I judge it as a failure. We didn't learn a great deal and it boiled down to a cynical excuse for X-Men to punch each other. The mysteries it introduced feel dull to me and I am not especially interested in the Avians or Inmate X. The solicits for X-Manhunt spoiled that Xavier wasn't going anywhere, which left us with forced conflict. I'm far more interested in the aftermath of the event, especially the Alaska team dealing with a visit from the O*N*E. They don't really need much reason to fuck with the X-Men so I'm not crediting the event with that.

Thanks for reading!

#raid on graymalkin #uncanny x men #x men #rogue #cyclops #charles xavier #professor x #magik #wolverine #corina ellis #x comics #marvel #comics #review #scurvy #gail simone

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