#sometimes it feels like I made him up sometimes it feels like I found him alone in an ancient crumbling building and took him home wit me

[whytheylosttheirminds]

Don't Call Me Kid - Chapter 8 (part two)

(Rafe Cameron x Reader series, 6.2k words)

series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.

tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder

series content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues

⇢ series masterlist

A blood curdling shriek rang through the house, jolting Carter from her restless dreams.

She sat straight up in bed, heart racing as she looked around the dark room, head so heavy she could barely remember where she was or how she got there.

In her hungover mental fog, she pieced it together slowly. She was at the beach house, in her room, it was early, she drank so much last night and Topper said -

“OH MY GOD!” 

Another sharp scream came from downstairs, and her heart rate spiked all over again. She pulled the fluffy comforter around her shoulders and hurried out of the room, quiet on the stairs as she nervously approached the source of all the commotion.

When she saw what was inducing Sabrina’s shock, she doubled back, hiding around the corner so they couldn’t see her. Her stomach churned with bitter loathing, and something else even more nauseating…

She dropped the blanket and rushed to the half-bath off the house’s entryway, doubled over the toilet bowl as last night’s poor choices continued to haunt her.

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Rafe drove faster than he had before your interrupted rendezvous, seeming not to want to drag this adventure out anymore. You eyed him nervously from the passenger seat, searching for words that weren’t coming to you. 

Tongue tied and exhausted was not how you wanted to begin this…whatever this was between you. Rafe had given you words, so many of them, back on the beach and all he asked in return was a simple yes or no.

Are you my girl?

No four words had ever felt so heavy. The shitty part was, you wanted to say yes. At the sound of his breathless question every cell in your body was screaming yes! I’m your girl! I’ve always been your girl! 

But then there was that pesky piece of self preservation that cemented itself in your heart all those years ago and didn’t plan to give up any time soon. 

He looked so disappointed when you couldn’t give him a quick and easy answer, his chest now deflated and shoulders sunken as he drove the rest of the route home. Despite your lingering hesitation, you felt like you needed to give him something, needed to lift the frown that was settled on the lips you had tasted so many times this morning.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled.

“For what?” He asked.

“I’m…slow,” you began, “it takes me a while, y’know? To find the words. I’m not like you, I don’t know how you came up with that speech in less than a minute.”

Rafe laughed, confusing you.

“What?”

“You think I came up with that speech in a minute?” He chuckled, “I’ve been practicing it every day since senior year of high school.”

Your heart clenched at the endearing thought of him in front of the mirror, driving to class, taking a shower all while rehearsing what he’d say if you ever gave him the chance.

“Oh,” you tucked your hair behind your ear.

It was infuriating, your complete inability to get a grip on your own thoughts and feelings around him. It had always been this way. You were well-spoken and sound-minded, until this one person was in your atmosphere, his presence your own personal kryptonite.

To be fair to yourself, it wasn’t just your own weakness for him that had caused you to build such high walls. When you were kids, he sometimes made you feel this way on purpose. He used to have fun watching you get flustered, just the right amount of flirting to send you into a tizzy, only to leave you spinning like a top with no one to stop you.

You truly tried to leave the past behind, burying it somewhere back in the sand on the beach. You reminded yourself that the Rafe of your memories was not the one sitting next to you right now. But that might just be the problem, because at least you knew that Rafe, you knew exactly what he would do next.

If he grabbed your hand, you knew he was about to drop it. If he said something sweet, you knew he was about to say something passive aggressive. If he acted like he loved you, you knew he was about to act like he’d never met you a day in his life.

But this Rafe, this new one, was completely unpredictable. Wild and dangerous in his apparent affection for you. How were you supposed to know what he did next wasn’t going to hurt? He was right about what he said on the jet ski - you won’t know until you give him the chance. Easier said than done.

“You don’t have to say anything right now,” he offered after you’d been quiet for a long time.

“This week has just been…” trying to come up with one word to describe it felt like a futile task.

“Overwhelming?” Rafe tried to help.

“Surprising,” you countered. “I’ve never been good with surprises.”

“You like to know what’s coming next,” he nodded, once again displaying a deep knowledge of you that you never knew he possessed.

Like he could read your mind, his arm stretched across the small divide and his palm, warm and soft, settled on your thigh, a single soothing stroke to let you know he’s still here, he’s still yours. The feeling of his skin touching yours was like aloe vera directly on the burn.

With a grateful smile, you leaned back in the seat and took a deep breath as he steered you home.

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Carter padded down the hall, stopping three separate times, trying to decide if she should just go back to her own room. But the sight of her frantic texts to you still saying “delivered” and not “read” was too concerning to ignore.

She opened Topper’s door without knocking.

He was sitting up against his headboard, typing feverishly on his phone. At the sight of her, he clutched his duvet cover, pulling it up higher over his nearly naked body.

“Have you ever heard of knocking?” 

“Please, like I haven’t seen it all before. Like I didn’t see it yesterday,” she rolled her eyes.

“Oh okay, so you do remember. Based on the way you were acting last night I thought maybe you’d forgotten we’d ever been together,” he snipped at her.

“I don’t want to talk about last night,” she waved him off, dismissing his complaints flippantly, “are you aware of what’s happening downstairs right now? Of who is happening downstairs right now?”

“Yes, I saw her pull up,” he returned his attention to his phone and his frenzied typing.

Outside his cracked open door, Carter heard Kelce, Tom, and a few others come barreling up the stairs, chatting about the recent arrival.

“Be so fucking for real, did you invite her?” Carter said, attempting to lower her voice.

“I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you this but you do this thing where you think you’re whispering and you’re actually not,” Topper informed her.

“Topper…”

“No, I didn’t invite her.,” he answered. “Actually I was about to ask if you did.”

“Why the fuck would I do that? I hate her.”

“Wow alright, hate's a strong word, Carter, maybe calm down a little.”

Ever since their knock-down-drag-out at the club last night, the arguing that was usually playful and lighthearted had an edge of actual bitterness to it.

“First of all, if you ever tell me to ‘calm down’ again, I’m going full Lorena Bobbitt on your ass. Second of all, you need to go down there and tell her to leave,” she flicked her hair behind her shoulder and held her chin up as she bossed him around. He hated that despite how mad at her he was, he fucking loved it.

“How does that job possibly fall on me?” He scoffed.

“Aren’t you Mr. Team Rafe-and-my-sister? Don’t you want to get rid of the reason they stopped talking in the first place?” She reasoned.

“I’m not gonna tell her she can’t be here,” he shut her down. “It’s not my house, and it’s really none of my business. Or yours.”

Her eyes narrowed at him, “oh yeah? Then who are you texting so much over there?”

“I’m just giving him a head’s up,” he shrugged. “She should probably know too.”

“And you’re just assuming they’re together?” She snarled.

“Puh-lease,” he rolled his eyes, “did you see them at the club last night? There’s no way they didn’t hook up.”

She wouldn’t accept it, couldn’t, even though she knew somewhere deep in her gut that he was probably right. 

When Rafe still didn’t answer any of his texts, Topper sighed heavily, “fuck it, I don’t care if I’m cockblocking, I’m calling him.”

Before he could dial, the house shook with the slam of the front door. Carter and Topper hurried out to the hall and hesitated at the top of the steps. Your lone voice carried up to them, talking to no one in particular as you muttered, “un-fucking-belivable.”

Carter actually did whisper this time, “I think it might be too late for that…”

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The feeling of Rafe’s hand, warm and steady on your thigh, as he drove the rest of the route home was so nice and comforting, you let yourself slip into the possibility that this could actually be it. Maybe you really could just leave the past behind you, maybe you really had finally found each other and it could just be simple like this.

But your fantasy didn’t last long.

Rafe parked in the spot across the street that you had taken Carter’s car from a few hours ago. Even when he turned the key and cut the engine, he didn’t remove his hand from your leg. 

“You ready?” He sighed.

“For what?” You questioned, eyeing him curiously, his face serious as he looked down at the site of his hand on your skin.

He shook his head like he didn’t know the answer himself, “reality, I guess.”

You placed your hand over his, smirking at the sight of your fingers encompassing each other’s, wanting so much more from these hands and truly believing you’d have all the time in the world to enjoy them. 

“Bring it on,” you gave him a small smile.

“He leaned across the center console and dropped a deep kiss to your lips, causing you to sigh into his mouth. All the times you imagined kissing him, you never thought such a rough-around-the-edges guy would have such soft lips. You felt like you might be able to spend forever with them on your skin.

When he finally pulled away, you reached for the handle of your door, beginning to open it, but Rafe reached across your body and pulled it shut again.

“What are you doing?” You asked in surprise.

He smiled that perfect, dimpled grin of his, “extra credit.”

You giggled as he hurried to climb out of the driver’s side, hurrying around to your door and opening it with a chivalrous flair.

“Wow,” you beamed, accepting his hand as he helped you down from the tall vehicle. “You weren’t kidding about trying to be a gentleman.”

“For you, I’ll be anything,” he flirted.

Despite your best efforts not to, you blushed, the red hue on your cheeks deepening when Rafe kept your hand in his, intertwining his fingers with yours as you walked back to the house. It was the first time he’d held your hand out in the open like this, where anyone could look out from the windows of the beach house and see the two of you together. It was foreign to you, his public display of affection, and yet it felt so right. You couldn’t help but wish it hadn’t taken this long.

“Can I ask you something?” You said quietly.

“Anything,” he squeezed your hand assuringly. 

“Why didn’t we do this a long time ago?” 

Rafe’s face fell slightly, watching his feet as they made less and less forward progress on the sidewalk, until he came to a full stop. The question was mostly meant to be lighthearted, a tease really, but his solemn reaction made your stomach twist with concern.

“I…” he started, voice unsteady, not meeting your eyeline, “I don’t know if I should tell you this but -”

You never knew what he wasn’t supposed to tell you, because before he could, a sickeningly familiar voice called out from the front porch.

“Hey guys!”

Head snapping toward the sound, you looked up, and there she was, as stunning as ever in that same signature everything-you’re-not-ness. 

Cassie Bryant.

Her face was adorned with a glistening smile, yours was noticeably not. Everything in you sunk, including the corners of your lips, completely unable to hide the way your heart dropped six feet under the ground at the sight of her.

She was somehow even more golden and glowing now than she was back then. Glossy blonde hair flowing down her back like a waterfall of silk. Her perfect, blemish free skin glowed in the early morning light. Her big, round Disney Princess eyes quickly found Rafe and flicked over your joined hands, clocking the way they were folded together in unmistakable intimacy.

It happened so quickly, and yet it felt like years worth of hurt and heartache compacted into one small moment. 

At the sight of Cassie on the porch, Rafe dropped your hand.

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Surely, any minute now, a camera crew would pop out from the bushes and announce that you were being Punk’d.

Or maybe it’d be the Mythbusters:

The myth? That you can actually heal from your childhood trauma with just four years of painstaking hard work. Well, we’re about to prove that all of that can be unraveled in the span of 72 hours! Also, we will be using your heart as our crash test dummy. Myth busted!

You didn’t look over at Rafe, couldn’t bear to watch the way he pulled his body away from yours, ever-so-slightly, almost imperceptibly. But you could feel it all the same, and you were sure she could too. 

Before Cassie could say anything else, the front door opened behind her, Sabrina stepping out of the house and taking in the unfolding scene on the lawn.

“Oh shit,” she laughed, “this is awkward!”

It’s like her main goal in life was to find new and creative ways to make your bad moments worse.

“Is it?” Cassie asked, seemingly unaware of the cause of Sabrina’s laughter. “We were just saying hi.”

She caught your eye as she said it, a polite but knowing smile on her lips. You realized with shock that she absolutely knew what was happening and was trying to make you feel better about it. You should just be grateful for the unexpected kindness, but something in you was suspicious. The Cassie you knew would’ve jumped at the chance to embarrass you, and she would’ve loved the way Rafe was treating you like you had the plague.

Plus, her taking pity on you, acknowledging the way Rafe had just hurt you, was somehow worse than her just being mean to you. You’d rather she go back to that.

“Y’all having a good trip?” She asked you and Rafe when the silence had lasted just a little too long.

You looked to Rafe, waiting for him to answer, begging him silently to say something that indicated that you were in fact having a good trip…together.

But he just said, “it’s been cool. Weather’s shit, though.”

“Yeah that’s what Sab told me, but I got a few days off my internship so I thought I’d come hang with y’all,” she said, eyes on you as she spoke, like she owed you an explanation.

“Well, welcome, then,” you smiled a polite smile that didn’t meet your eyes.

“You ready?” Sabrina asked, linking arms with Cassie, thick as thieves. 

“We’re going into town for some brunch if you guys want to join,” Cassie offered.

“That’s okay, I need to check on Carter,” you declined, all eyes turning to Rafe for his response.

“Uh yeah, I’m good here, th-thanks,” he stuttered, so awkward and shaky, a completely different person from the guy who was delivering monologues and sweeping you off your feet just a few hours ago.

Cassie just smiled politely once more as Sabrina pulled her into the car. As they drove off, you stood wordlessly with Rafe on the front walk, your chest completely hollow. You mustered some nerve and finally looked at him, head tilted, a completely unamused smile tugging your lips.

“Weather’s shit?” You repeated his words back to him.

“Look…” he began but didn’t finish the thought.

You just laughed humorlessly, shaking your head at him as you stormed off toward the house. Rafe stood frozen for a moment, kicking himself mentally and begging his brain to catch up with the moment, finally rushing off after you, but not able to before you slammed the door in his face.

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Carter and Topper exchanged nervous glances at the sound of you stomping into the house. 

They slowly and quietly settled on the top step, sitting forward to listen in as the front door opened and closed again, Rafe’s voice echoing through the house.

“Wait…” he said, following after you as you marched further into the house toward the kitchen.

You didn’t stop, “No, go ahead, you should go to brunch with her. Don’t let me keep you from a good time.”

“Wait, let’s just talk,” he pleaded.

“I’m too tired, Rafe,” you rejected him. “I can’t do this right now.”

“So you’re not even gonna let me explain?”

At the top of the steps, Carter and Topper simultaneously held their breath as they listened, both jumping as Kelce’s voice startled them, “what are we listening to?”

“Shhh,” Carter waved her hand at him, motioning for him to shut up.

Kelce plopped himself between them on the top step, shuffling a bit so they’d make room for him. He listened in, picking up your and Rafe’s raised voices quickly.

“Oh shit,” he barely whispered, “trouble in paradise already?”

“Dude shut up,” Topper cut him off.

Soon, Maddie, Tom and Jack joined the little huddle on the top step, each cluing in on the source of the entertainment in their own disruptive way before being shushed by the group and eventually sitting. You continued your argument with Rafe, completely unaware you were performing in front of a live studio audience.

“You don’t need to explain,” you told him, trudging down the front hall toward the kitchen. “I know exactly what just happened because it’s happened a thousand times before. What I don’t know is why I’m even surprised.”

“Come on,” he caught up to you, stopping you in your tracks as his large frame rounded you. “It is not the same as it used to be.”

“It’s exactly the same,” you side-stepped him, walking into the kitchen and dropping Carter’s keys on the counter. “I mean jesus Rafe, it’s the same fucking person! I can’t believe I’m here again, it’s like I’m having a nightmare where I’m back in high school. Next thing you know I’m gonna walk into homeroom and I realize I’m completely naked.”

“Sounds more like a dream to me,” he smirked, trying to flirt.

You just blinked back at him, your sharp eyes cutting straight through his head.

“Do you think this is funny?”

His smirk dropped, snatched right off his lips by your ice cold tone. Good. You’d been waiting years to wipe that shit eating grin off his face. 

Something new was rising in your chest, knocking out the embarrassment and sadness with a closed fist, a fury long buried coming back with a vengeance.

“I thought all that shit was behind us, over and done.” Rafe reached out towards you but you stopped him with your own rough grip, lowering his hand away from you and dropping it like he’d dropped yours.

“Oh, it’s fucking done alright, so fucking done,” you spat.

 “You’re really gonna let ten stupid seconds ruin everything that’s happened between us? You’re not even gonna give me the benefit of the doubt. You really think that little of me?”

“It’s literally only been two hours, and you’ve already lied to me once and pushed me away the second someone saw us. And you wonder why I'm having a hard time saying yes to being with you? It’s because I fucking can’t trust you, Rafe!”

“I don’t know what else I can do to show you I’m different,” he threw his hands up in exasperation. “This is so fucking unfair.”

“Are you being fucking serious right now?” You stepped towards him as you snapped at him. “You’re actually pissed at me?”

“Yeah, I am!” 

“Why?”

“Because I lost my best friend!”

Everyone on the top of the stairs winced, air sucked from the room when Rafe raised his voice at you. For all his flaws and mistreatment, he had never raised his voice at you before.

“Oh shit,” Kelce whispered.

“Shhh!” Carter and Maddie hushed him in unison, everyone leaning in a little closer to hear how you’d react. But you said nothing. They couldn’t see the widening of your eyes, jaw locked tight as you gave him space to follow up on his outburst.

“Do you really think it didn’t hurt me when you just up and stopped talking to me back then?” He took the space you gave him and slowly unpacked the hurt feelings he’d buried for years. “I know I was a dick, I shouldn’t have taken advantage of how you felt about me, I shouldn’t have strung you along. But when that shit went down senior year and you just ghosted me, I wanted to talk to you and make it right. I tried, but you blocked me out, you went from talking to me every day to radio silence without giving me a single explanation. That fucking hurt. And you’re doing the exact same thing now, not even giving me a chance to explain things. So yeah, I am a little pissed. I’m pissed that you’re just gonna throw it all away again over nothing.”

He waited for your response with baited breath, prepared for you to yell, or cry, or do something. But you gave him nothing, mouth closed in a tight line as you turned on your heel and walked further into the kitchen, lifting the coffee pot from its home and filling it in the sink.

He watched your back as you scooped the grounds into the filter and turned on the machine. Minutes passed and you remained silent, hands on the counter, looking out the big window towards the ocean while the coffee brewed one drop at a time.

Finally, after eight cups had dripped into the pot, you spoke.

“How was prom, by the way?” You turned to face him, the edge of the marble countertop digging into your waist as you leaned back against it, hands crossed in hostility over your chest. “I never asked.”

Rafe’s gaze fell from you almost instantly. He didn’t have to ask why you were bringing this up, the ‘hell hath no fury’ look on your face dragging the memory forth from its carefully hidden spot in the back of his brain. Nothing made him feel like a jackass quite like that memory, and based on the mocking curve at the corner of your lips, you knew it.

The memory used to keep you up at night. 

For a full year after it happened, it was like a fire poker bent into the shape of regret and shame was branding your heart over and over. 

Now, the burn was healed over, still calloused and red at the edges, but you’d done your best to cover the scar tissue in the healing balms of self-love and lots and lots of therapy. Still, it was the moment in your life you were the least proud of.

You’d thought it was gonna be you. Really, earnestly, completely delusionally, you believed when he asked for your help with his grand prom-posal that it was all a playful ruse to ask you to be his date. You stayed up all night, decorating three different poster boards with glitter glue so he could pick the one he liked best. You bought out all the battery-powered candles at Michael’s - he said he’d pay you back, he never did. You waited with him in the park until the sun set, giddy with the hope that he’d drop the ruse and pop the question any minute.

“What will you do if ‘she’ says no?” You attempted to flirt.

“I guess I’d just have to take you.”

Every muscle in his body flinched at the memory and the white hot regret he felt every time it replayed in his head.

The kid who said those words was such an asshole. Standing here in the kitchen, looking down at you, the love of his goddamn life, and facing the possibility that he might lose you for good, he wanted to ring the idiot’s neck.

Because he hadn’t asked you. He made you watch while he asked her. And he didn’t even give you a ride home from the park.

Fuck, he wouldn’t forgive himself if he was you, either.

Rafe felt about two feet tall, looking back at you with absolutely nothing to say. He was relieved for a second when you opened your mouth to speak first, until he heard the words.

“You don’t understand. The voice in the back of my head, the one I’ve spent years trying to silence, the one that tells me I’m not enough, that I’ll never be enough…it’s your voice, Rafe.”

He grasped desperately for a reply, but there were no words in the English language that made that statement any less devastating.

“Maybe that’s not fair,” you continued before he could come up with anything, “but I don’t think I have control over that. I don’t know how to undo it, if it can be undone. So those ten seconds that just happened out there? They’re  not nothing to me. When you dropped my hand at the sight of her, I felt like I was that stupid teenage girl again, giving my whole heart to the one person who knows how to break it. Blind and foolish and desperate for you to notice her. I don’t like that girl.”

You made it through the whole speech with a steady voice, up until the last sentence. Your voice cracked on those words, your heart doing the same as you pictured your younger self. The one who would sit on her bed for hours, rereading the texts she sent him and praying he’d reply.

Thinking about that version of yourself, you weren’t sure if you wanted to hug her or slap her. Surely, she’d hit you right back if she saw what you were doing now, potentially pushing away the boy she loved more than anything, finally having him within your grasp and letting him slip right through.

At the top of the stairs, unbeknownst to you, Carter was picturing that girl, too. She would roll her eyes at you back then, using sarcastic comments like “are you sure Rafe even knows how to read?” to mask her truer concern; that he could but he wouldn’t, and the heart you wore on your sleeve would end up crushed again. Even now, she couldn’t protect it, couldn’t save it from reaching out to this boy who did nothing but break it.

Frustration welled inside her, the absolute powerlessness to put an end to this cycle that hurts you feeling like a dark cloud over her head. The anger manifested into hot, watery tears gathering on her lash line. Without permission, one slipped through, rolling down her cheek slowly.

Topper caught the whole thing, and despite their fight and his resolve to freeze her out until she apologized, he couldn’t stop his hand from reaching out and stroking her cheek softly, wiping the tear away with a gentle swipe of his thumb.

They shared a look so full of unspoken words and tender emotions that they almost forgot about the conversation in the kitchen, until Rafe’s voice cut through the moment and pulled them from their silent reconciliation.

“Are you okay?” He asked you after you’d been silent for nearly a minute, trying desperately to compose yourself.

“Yes, that's all just a lot. I’m processing,” you sniffled.

“Take your time,” he said, pulling out one of the high back stools from the counter and motioning for you to sit in it.

Your body was so exhausted, even your stubborn anger at him couldn’t stop you from accepting the offer. You slumped on the plush stool, folding your arms on the counter and resting your chin on them.

“How do you like your eggs?” Rafe asked.

“Is that a pick-up line?” 

“Nope, just a question,” he said as he opened the high cupboard and pulled out a frying pan.

You tried to remind yourself you should reject his offer to feed you, you should storm out, you should tell him where he can put his frying pan…but you were hungry. And so tired.

“Sunny side up,” you answered.

He nodded and got to work cooking you breakfast, eggs and bacon sizzling on the stove, Rafe close by with a spatula in hand, silent as he stirred and flipped. You rested your head on your folded arms, eyes half-closed and brain sleepy, watching him. 

If you blocked out the last twenty minutes, you could pretend this morning was your real life, could let yourself imagine it really was all this simple and pleasant and sweet; he’d cook you breakfast, you’d make him coffee, and you’d kiss until the sun rose.

At the top of the stairs, Kelce stood and started descending, before Carter reached up and grabbed his arm.

“What are you doing?” She whispered.

“I’m hungry!” He whined.

“You can’t go down there,” Maddie scolded him, “give them some space.”

“Are we just gonna stay up here all day?” Tom complained as he and Jack stood to join Kelce’s crusade into the kitchen.

“Everybody sit down!” Topper whisper-yelled. “Give them five fucking minutes, you’ll all survive. You can fuck off back to your rooms if you want but no one’s going down there.”

Carter couldn’t help the heart eyes she made at him, surprised and delighted by his show of aggression in your defense.

Kelce groaned as he backed back down, Tom rolling his eyes and throwing his hands up as he trudged down the hall back to his room, Jack following with a huff.

“Kelce, I have a granola bar in my purse, c’mon,” Maddie offered, leading him towards her own door.

Alone again, Topper and Carter looked at each other for a long, quiet moment.

“I’m sorry,” she mouthed.

“I know,” he mouthed back.

She scooted towards him, nuzzling into his side as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, kissing her temple.

Downstairs, Rafe was done with your meal, scooping it onto a plate and sliding it to you across the counter.

“Thank you,” you sat up and began nibbling at a slice of bacon.

Rafe took the stool next to you with his own plate of food. You sat in silence for a while, only the sound of forks scraping against porcelain and the occasional “can you pass the salt?” between you.

Between bites, you rested your head on your arm again, nearly falling asleep.

“I’m so tired,” you mumbled sleepily.

“It’s been a long twenty-four hours,” Rafe agreed, taking a sip of his coffee.

“That’s an understatement,” you snorted, sitting up again and finishing the last bite of your eggs.

“What about…the next twenty-four hours?” He asked quietly.

You took a deep breath, the smile falling from your face as you considered the question underneath his question. You didn’t answer him right away, hopping down from the stool and collecting your plate and his, carrying them to the sink. Rafe was quick behind you, arm reaching around and pulling the dishes from your hands to lay them in the sink. His hand rested on your waist, turning you to face him, pulling you in. Reluctantly, and without returned tenderness, you let him.

“Rafe, I can’t…” you said sadly.

“Please just talk to me,” he pleaded, hands running up your arms and resting on your shoulders. You shook your head, blinking away fresh tears as you pulled away from him.

“It hurts too much, Rafe,” your voice cracked. “As great as the last few days have been, you can’t see that being close to you hurts me. I worked so hard to get over you. So this isn’t me throwing it all away, this is me protecting myself. Protecting what I’ve spent years rebuilding.”

“So what, that's it then? You’re just gonna go back to school and pretend this never happened?” The pain in his voice was palpable, and you cursed the part of you that wanted to reach out and make him feel better.

“I don’t know, Rafe,” a small tear slipped through, gliding slowly down your cheek.

“You’re just gonna stop talking to me, stop thinking about me?” He continued desperately.

You looked up at him finally, searching his face, nodding sadly.

“I’ve done it before.”

Hurt flashed in his crystal blue eyes, flinching like your words had burned him. “You didn’t…you don’t…think about me?”

“No,” you told him honestly, another tear joining the one before it. “Never. Because if I let myself think about you, I would’ve fallen apart. I’m not strong enough, I would’ve run to you, and every time I did that before, you’d let me down.”

“What about yesterday? What about this morning? Just think about the beach, everything was so good, it can be that way now…”

He reached out and cupped the side of your face, thumb brushing over the tears as he pulled you in toward him, kissing you out of sheer desperation. Like maybe if you tasted his lips, it’d transport you both back in time, back to the beach, back when he’d done and said everything right. 

You allowed him to take you there for just a second, before the incident on the front walk flashed in your mind again, the pain of rejection like a knife to your gut. You pulled away from him quickly, side stepping him and moving to the other side of the kitchen, creating as much distance between you as possible.

“No, no, you can’t just kiss me and act like what just happened with Cassie didn’t happen,” you shook your head rapidly, wiping your tear stained streaks with the backs of your hands. “I can’t do this right now, I need some time to think.”

It required fighting every impulse he had, but he didn’t push, didn’t close the space between you, didn’t try to regain the control he was so used to having. He just sighed deeply and nodded, eyes low.

“Okay, well let me know when you’re done…thinking.”

With one last longing look at you, he stepped away to the basement steps, stopping at the top and turning halfway toward you.

“Oh and that girl? The one who gave me her heart? For what it’s worth, I like her. Always have.”

With that, he was gone, the door clicking softly behind him.

Carter and Topper could hear you approach the bottom of the steps. Carter stood first, fully ready to greet you and grill you on everything that had happened since you last spoke. Topper could see all her questions and comments written on her face. He grabbed her hand and squeezed gently, stopping her before she marched down the stairs towards you. She looked at him in surprise but understood quickly as he gave her a slight shake of his head, whispering, “give her some space.”

Reluctantly, she nodded, allowing him to lead her quietly down the hall and into his room.

Your footsteps were heavy on the stairs, body aching. Your brain was so fried you couldn’t even pick one thing from the morning to focus on, like the part of your brain that processes events was temporarily out of order. So you stopped trying to think and just let your feet carry you to your bed, crawling under the covers in your clothes, falling quickly into a restless slumber.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

In your dreams, you were back in the kitchen with him, shoulder to shoulder in comfortable silence as you did the dishes together. Rafe washed and you dried. 

Only, it wasn’t the beach house kitchen, it was one you’d never been in before. And in that dream-state way of knowing something you don’t actually know, you were sure it was a kitchen the two of you shared, sometime in the distant, unwritten future.

(to be continued)

a/n: I'm so sorry, I had to do it.......also the prom thing may or may not be based on a true story and I may or may not have cried writing it....

also I’m sick and tired so I didn’t edit much sorry for typos!

please note: the taglist for this series is closed. For updates when I post, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs <3

friendly reminder that writers live off of reblogs, don’t forget to feed your faves! 💘

[loonylupinblack3]

Wife?

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Reader

Summary: Oscar accidently slips up in an interview and calls you something you're not.... yet

Warnings: none :)

Word count: 1.2k

A/N: how is this man my favourite driver and i haven't written about him yet?

You were in the Mclaren garage, earmuffs firmly in place as your eyes followed the bright orange car on track. The remnants of the crash between Sainz and Perez could still be seen, your heart giving a nervous squeeze whenever your gaze slid to it. 

You could feel cameras watching you, people’s eyes darting to you every now and then, wanting to see your reaction whenever something happened involving Oscar. For the most part you composed yourself well when watching your boyfriend race, keeping your panic, fear, and nausea to yourself. You were well practised in the art of keeping a steady facade, what with being an actress and having people stare at you wherever you went.

Still, you couldn’t help the little gasps that escaped you each time they passed turn 20 and Charles got dangerously close in the space between turn 20 and turn 1. Each time Charles got closer and closer to overtaking Oscar, and each time you were watching with bated breath wondering if this was the time he’d finally take your boyfriend’s position.

Yet he never did, and you watched with an overwhelming joy as Oscar finished the Azerbaijan Grand Prix first, the black and white chequered flag telling the world of your boyfriend's achievement. You laughed, clapping your hands, beaming at the screen in front of you. Cheers rose up from the people around you, guests and workers alike celebrating the success of the team.

You hurried out of the garage, walking the now familiar path to the crowd waiting underneath the podium, where you’d stay to watch Oscar retrieve his trophy. You’d known his last win hadn’t been perfect, and your celebrations together had been dampened slightly. Today though, you knew you’d be celebrating. You could already see your boyfriend’s telltale smile as he walked onto the first place podium, a restrained smile that looked polite to anyone else but to you confessed his excitement and pride.

You cheered with everyone else as he received his trophy, throwing his arm in the air triumphantly as his gaze searched the crowd. When he found you his smile widened just a tad. Still polite as ever but softer. His eyes were also telling you everything the distance between you wouldn’t allow. That he loved you. That he was so happy. That he felt like he meant something, which of course he did.

The next few hours were very busy for your boyfriend. He was the man of the hour, the person everyone wanted to talk to and congratulate. You’d had a passing kiss and hug, murmuring how proud you were of him before he was whisked away again, but you didn’t mind. You let these people have their precious few hours with him because after that he was all yours.

Oscar, on the other hand, wasn’t happy with it. He’d just made an incredible achievement in his life, something he’d been working for since he was a kid, and he wanted to celebrate with you, not reporters and interviewers.

So when he spotted you walking with Alex, Charles’ girlfriend, he took his chance, grabbing your hand and dragging you over with him. You gave him a confused smile. “What’re you doing?”

He shrugged. “Wanted to be with you. If I have to do this I want you to do it with me too.”

The reporter in front of him cooed, as did the surrounding people listening in. You gave him a smile, not minding one bit. Your boyfriend had such a soft, loving side the media didn’t get to see much, so you were glad they were finally discovering what a sweetheart Oscar was.

And that’s how you found yourself attending race briefings and interviews with your boyfriend. You had to admit, it was a little boring, and sometimes you couldn’t keep up with the conversation, your limited Formula One knowledge failing you during speedy discussions on cars and strategies. Still, you could see how happier Oscar was with you there, his hand resting comfortably on your waist, which was why you pasted on a smile and endured it.

It was nearing the end of the briefings, freedom so close you could almost taste it, as Oscar finished up with the last couple of interviews. You were both ready to leave, the sky having turned dark long ago, and tiredness made way to a faulty filter in Oscar’s case.

“And you’ve got your girlfriend here,” the interviewer said, a young girl around your age, 23 or 24. “I bet she’s proud of you.”

Oscar turned to look at you, raising his eyebrows in question and you let a giddy smile cross your face. “‘Course I am. Couldn’t be prouder.”

Oscar, preening at your compliments, snuck a quick kiss on your cheek, much to the entertainment of the interviewer, talking of how wonderful you seemed together.

“Yeah, she’s amazing,” Oscar agreed. One thing you knew he loved nearly as much as racing was talking about you. “I’m incredibly lucky to her have her as my wife- uh, I mean-”

Your eyes went wide, as did the interviewer’s, her mouth dropping slightly. “Wife? Did we miss something?”

“Did I miss something?” you murmured to him, though you were not at all upset. Quite the contrary, actually, fighting the large smile threatening to spread across your face.

“No, no, I didn’t mean—uh, she’s not, not yet—uh, let’s move on—” Oscar was stumbling over his words, a rare sight, and you were biting your lip hard because you felt grinning like a maniac would not help him at the moment.

But he was going to receive many words later.

You received applause as you entered the stage, waving your hand at the audience as you sat down in the lush armchair, facing Jimmy Fallon behind his desk. You always loved going on his show, good friends with Jimmy on screen and off.

He gave you a warm welcome, speaking of your new movie that released a couple months ago and the launching of your new perfume, which you were quite excited about and more than happy to talk with Jimmy about. 

“And, I’m sorry, I just have to bring this up,” Jimmy started, a mischievous glint in his eye. “We all saw Oscar accidentally call you his wife on live TV after that big win. Did he get a talking-to for that slip-up?”

The audience laughed and you with them, remembering Oscar’s flushed face when you got back to the hotel room, his rambled explanation and apology. You also remembered what had followed, which is what spurred you to give a sly smile to Jimmy – “There was definitely some talking” – and take out your left hand you’d been sitting on and flash it to the audience.

More specifically, the jewel sitting on your ring finger.

The crowd gasped and applauded, the noise in the room reaching the limit, as Jimmy covered his mouth in shock before clapping along, congratulating you. You were full on grinning now, drinking in everyone’s happiness that only elevated your own.

“So next time Oscar refers to you as his wife it won’t be a slip-up, huh?” Jimmy asked brightly.

You grinned, nodding. “Next time he calls me his wife it’ll be because I am.”

[fantasybuff3186]

So I did a thing because i was bored. What do you think?

“Hey Delilah.” Todd suddenly asked, breaking the peaceful silence he found himself in with his girlfriend. “Yes Todd?” she was quick to answer as she looked up smiling from the book she was reading as Todd sighed contentedly, he’d always liked how attentive she could be to him. It didnt matter what she was doing or where they were, she always responded whenever she was close by. He counted himself extremely lucky to have such a beautiful and kind girlfriend and he tried to remind her of this everyday with small gestures like gifting her pink chrysanthemums(her favourite flowers) from the garden he specifically grew for her or by making her favourite dishes which he had specifically learnt to make for her. All Todd really wanted was to make sure his princess, his everything lived the most comfortable and the happiest life she could.

“Um Todd, you wanted to say something.” his girlfriend interrupted his thoughts. “Oh yes sorry, I just wanted to ask what you’re reading.” he said on being brought back to reality. “Oh I’m reading Hamlet.”

She answers immediately causing him to frown. “All over again?” he enquired to which she nodded her head enthusiastically, making him smile, he always enjoyed her enthusiasm and even more when she spoke with the same enthusiasm like she was right now.

She said, “its just such an interesting story and I really like Hamlet’s character in the story! Hes the only character I find interesting….” Todd couldn't hear the rest as he got lost in listening to her voice, so sweet, so beautiful and so kind.It was only when she tapped on his shoulder that he was jolted from his thoughts.

Once she was sure she got his attention she asked hesitantly, “D- did I bore you?” the hesitation and fear on her face made his heart wrench as he immediately touched her cheek and reassured her, “Hey hey nothing like that, I just got distracted, I love to hear you talk and sometimes your voice is the only thing I can focus on.”

On hearing that she smiled, flattered by his compliments as she shyly returned the compliment, “I like listening to you speak too.” Now it was Todd’s turn to blush at the compliment.

“Oh um..” he trailed off as she continued to speak, “But you know what I like the most?”. He looked at her curiously and raised his eyebrows quizzically as she asked, “What is it?”

Delilah spoke sincerely, “I like it when you smile, that sweet, sincere smile because when you smile like that all my fears, my worries seem to drift away. I like it when you smile but I love it even more when you laugh, that rich, comforting laugh. The laugh that fills my entire being with pleasure, that laughter that feels like the warm sun, that which sounds sweeter than music, sweeter than the ripest mango. So tell me Todd, why aren't you laughing?”

She said as her skin became bone,her face frozen in an expression of pain as she leaned against a tree, his hand still touching what was her cheek.

Write a happy story without conflict. Then with the last sentence, turn it into a horror story.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I wanna see what’s Ace’s family’s reaction when they found out Ace is dating reader Heheheh

I decided to have only Ace's brother present, since Mr. and Mrs. Trappola have yet to receive strong characterization.

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

The Trappola brothers sat across from one another upon red velvet chairs, and you, between them. They were both intently focused on building a house of playing cards—a task that Ace had warned took “serious patience, coordination, and a gentle touch.” (You had rolled your eyes and responded, “Great. You let me know when you’ve found someone that has all that.”)

Ace carefully laid a Two of Spades down, formed a triangle with a Three of Clubs and a Four of Diamonds. His hand slowly retreated, and the triangle stayed. He expelled a sigh, directed away from the cards so as to not disturb them.

You would have clapped for him, but Ace had discouraged you before the game had even started. So instead, you tapped your index and middle fingers together. Still giving applause, but not nearly enough to rattle the house of cards.

“Your move.”

“Huh, you’ve gotten better at this,” his brother mused. He toyed with an Ace of Hearts, expertly twirling it between dexterous fingers. “Too bad. I was really looking forward to smoking you in front of your new friend.”

“In your dreams,” Ace sneered, passing you a glance. “The last thing I’d want is to look uncool in front of my partner.”

His brother drew himself up in his seat. The card in his hand, stilling. “Your partner? Since when were you two a thing?”

“Oh, you know… since a while ago,” Ace casually replied. “And honestly, I can’t really blame’m. Who wouldn’t fall for my dashing good looks and roguish charm? I’m a catch!”

His brother regarded you with an almost pitying look. “It’s not too late to change your mind,” he advised.

You burst into laughter. "I think I'm good. Ace is an idiot, but he's at least my idiot."

He raised an eyebrow. "So you've got a sense of humor. You'll need that if you're going to put up with Ace all of the time. Congrats, you passed the first test."

"Whaddya mean 'put up with' me?!" Ace protested, puffing up his cheeks. A pout--adorable, you think.

"I mean it exactly how I said it. It's practically a full-time job dealing with you," his brother replied cheekily. "You gotta prepare people for it, or else they won't know what they've signed up for."

"Oh, come on! You're making me sound way worse than I actually am."

"This, coming from the guy who ghosted his ex?" He smirked, and you could see the family resemblance in it. The slight narrowing of the eyes, the way his mouth angled. "I dunno, I was half expecting you to stay single forever after that royal screw-up, lil' bro. You're lucky you found someone willing to take you~"

Pink exploded onto Ace's cheeks. "H-Hey...!" he hissed, leaning toward his brother. "Did you seriously have to bring that up?! Have a little more tact, will ya?!"

The older Trappola grinned. "Gotcha."

You realized why.

Ace's sudden movement had sent a slight breeze against the card house. It wobbled from top to bottom--then the structure collapsed in on itself, the cards all folding into one another. Within seconds, the house was a pile on the coffee table.

Ace fell to his knees with a pathetic wail, scrambling to salvage his hard work. His brother looked on, chuckling. A card, still in his hand.

"I didn't place mine yet," he declared triumphantly, "and since you made the house fall, it's technically my win!"

"Y-You sneaky...! You taunted me on purpose!!"

"Yeah, and it worked like a charm." He flicked Ace on the forehead. "You were too busy trying to flex in front of your S/O. It was easy to take advantage of that. You always were a cocky, predictable brat."

"Grrrrr..!!"

"Ace, it's fine," you soothed him, a hand on his arm. "You did your best. It doesn't change how I feel about you."

"Tch, there you go being all sappy again... You're so lame sometimes," Ace grumbled--but he covered your hand with his. A small gesture, but a reassuring one.

"Hahah, look at you two lovebirds," his brother teased, wagging a finger at you. Then he reached out and roughly ruffled Ace's hair, despite his complaints and attempts to swat him away. "Happy for you though, lil' bro! You gotta tell me how this love story started--"

[roosterforme]

Geriatric Millennial | Rooster x Reader

Bradley loves all things '90s. You don't completely understand it, but you appreciate his spirit.

1000 words

Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

There were certain scenarios that became normal over time when you were in a relationship with a man more then ten years your elder. Sometimes you didn't understand certain movie references. Slang words and jokes occasionally went over your head. He and his friends would often reminisce about trends you'd never witnessed. But Bradley never made you feel bad about it, and you never called him an old-timer unless you were joking.

You were used to these things, but nothing quite prepared you for what you saw when you got home from work. Bradley was relaxing on the couch in something that looked like a bright blue, full body straitjacket with some random vintage headphones on his head.

"What the fuck?" you muttered, inching closer when you realized he was listening to music and hasn't spotted you yet. You glanced around the room, trying to locate the source of disturbing chattering sound that just started, and you tripped over a hard, black ball.

Bradley looked up at you with a smile. "Hey, you're home early." He quickly stood in his weird, fleece outfit and leaned in to give you a kiss, but you leaned away.

"What on earth is happening here?" you asked, standing frozen as he pulled his headphones off.

"What are you talking about?" He looked puzzled by your words but not by all of the weird things in the living room. 

"I'm talking about what you're wearing. And the robotic voice!"

"Oh," he laughed. "This is just my Snuggie."

"Your what?"

He glanced down at himself. "My Snuggie? I found it in a box of my stuff from highschool."

You were still so confused. "What's a Snuggie? And what is that weird sound?"

When his gaze fell to something fuzzy and brown on the couch, you jerked back in shock. "You mean my Furby?"

You glared at the critter and it's enormous, evil eyes. "Is that one of those things from that '80s Gremlins movie you're obsessed with?"

He barked out a laugh like you'd just said the funniest thing he'd ever heard in his life. "Baby, no. It's not a Gremlin. It's just a Furby. But imagine if Furby manufactured replica Gremlins... Would have been fascinating." It was starting to sound like he was speaking a foreign language. "I was just listening to Chumbawamba on my Discman and playing with my pogs and my Tomagachi. I literally forgot the Furby was even here."

You were sure you were gaping at him like he had two heads as you reached up to run your palm across his forehead. "Do you have a fever?"

"Huh? No, but I did eat a Kudos bar I found in the box, so I might potentially have an upset stomach later. But it was worth it."

After you pinched the bridge of your nose, you asked, "I'm sorry, but what did you say you were listening to?"

"Tubthumping. By Chumbawamba. You know it, don't you? Pissing the night away, pissing the night away. I get knocked down...." He looked at you in wide eyed shock. "You don't know that song? How is that possible?"

You didn't want to tell him that Chumba whatever wasn't a word. And neither was Snuggie. Not when he looked so adorably baffled. You stroked your fingers across his forehead and down his cheek as you shook your head.

"No, I don't know that song, because I'm not forty like you are. And you look kind of alarming in this thing." You pinched the fleece fabric and pulled it away from his body.

"It's my Snuggie," he muttered. "It was from an Infomercial."

"I don't know what that means." He gasped and you started laughing. "But I would love to sit down with you while you explain it to me. As long as you don't make me eat something from the late 1900s."

He took your hand in his bigger one and and led you toward the couch and the demonic looking Furby. "Okay, but first, you need to listen to this CD. Because Jake told me Chumbawamba is a guilty pleasure, but it's actually really good."

About twenty minutes later, you were wrapped up in the Snuggie, enveloped in softness and Bradley's lingering body warmth. "I love this thing," you told him, burying your face in the fleece. "And yes, Chumbawamba is good, but I like Hoobastank better. And I'm really sorry I accidentally kicked your Magic 8 ball across the floor."

He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and kissed your cheek as you skipped a track on his Discman. "That's okay. Hey, do you want to learn how to play pogs? The best part is, I'm not sure there are actually any rules at all."

"Sure," you said with a shrug. "Why the hell not? As long as you lock that Furby away and never let it out ever again."

"Heard."

[faithshouseofchaos]

Franco x driver reader- She is a rookie who started before him and the others on the grid are protective of her since she has no one with her (her family never goes to see her or supports her). They start talking and the other drivers act like older brothers.

A/n— Hi 👋 @alex-wotton I went with the last one because it really stood out to me because I realized last night that if I was a f1 driver traveling to races would be pretty lonely as my mom has lupus and is in pain all the time and my siblings are still in school while my dad works out on the road. I will also be doing the others to.

Oh one more thing this is just a little look into the big fic around this request I’ll be doing later… depending on how well this does.

"They mean well" — Franco Colapinto x fem! rookie diver! Reader

Fluff slightly angsty

Word count—1122

Summary — Franco befriend's the female Alpine rookie the only problem is that he now has to deal with her guard dogs.

The first few weeks on the grid were a whirlwind, especially since you were a rookie in a sport where every second counts, and every move you make is scrutinized. It was hard, almost overwhelming, and though you knew the other drivers were competitive, you quickly realized that there was a quieter, more supportive side to them. You couldn’t deny how much it helped to have the older drivers looking out for you.

Lando had taken to teasing you right away. His cheeky humor and constant lighthearted comments were always enough to make you laugh, even on the toughest days. “You’re doing better than most of the vets, you know,” he’d say after a particularly good lap, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Next time, you’ll have to give me some pointers!”

Max, who often seemed aloof to others, was surprisingly attentive. He noticed when you were on your own, after long days when you would simply wander the paddock, minding your own business. Without a word, he would sidle up next to you, hands shoved deep into his pockets, and talk about the most mundane things—anything to take your mind off the pressure. “Have you ever tried the coffee from the new stand near the paddock? Best one in town,” he’d comment, knowing full well it was an excuse to pull you into a conversation that wasn’t about racing for once.

Charles, ever the older brother type, was the one who would make sure you didn’t slip into your head too much. He could tell when the weight of everything was starting to build up on your shoulders. “Hey,” he’d say, voice gentle but firm. “You’re doing fine. Don’t let the stress get to you. You have a team behind you.”

And then there was Franco. He was quieter than the others, but his presence was undeniable. He’d only just joined the grid, and the others were quick to embrace him, but it was clear that his personality was different—calmer, more reserved. You found that, over time, you felt a quiet connection with him. It wasn’t an in-your-face, loud support, but a steady, reassuring presence.

One evening, after another intense qualifying session, you found yourself walking alone by the garages, replaying every corner of the track in your head. You were exhausted, physically and mentally, but you didn’t want to be a burden to the others, so you walked it off in silence. Franco noticed you from across the paddock and, with a knowing look, excused himself from a conversation he was having with Lando.

When he reached you, there was no fanfare, just a casual ease that made you relax almost immediately.

“Hey, everything okay?” Franco asked, his voice soft yet direct.

You smiled, a little weary, but grateful. “Just thinking about the session. Could’ve done better.”

He shook his head, his lips curling into a small smile. “You did fine. We all have those moments, don’t overthink it.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. “It’s just… hard sometimes. Being the rookie and feeling like you’re always falling short.”

Franco tilted his head slightly, studying you for a moment before replying. “I get it. I’m still the new guy here too, remember? But honestly, the others are looking out for you. They’ve got your back.”

The way he said it was simple, but there was a sincerity behind it that made something inside you relax. Franco wasn’t offering empty words—he meant it.

And it wasn’t just him. The next time you walked into the paddock and bumped into Max, he clapped you on the shoulder with a grin. “You looked a bit off yesterday. If you need a break, you know where to find me.”

Lando, catching wind of the exchange, chimed in from a few feet away. “Yeah, don’t make us have to drag you into our fun. We’re here for more than just the racing.”

The protectiveness came in waves. Sometimes it was subtle—Charles, pulling you aside to offer advice on staying focused during the race, or Lando, joking around to make you laugh when the stress of the weekend was beginning to get to you. But sometimes, it was a little more overt.

The first time you really felt the weight of their protectiveness was after a particularly tough race, where you finished outside the points. The media was relentless, questions flying about whether you were cut out for the sport, and you could feel the eyes of the paddock on you.

As you were heading back to your garage, head down, trying to shut out the noise, you suddenly felt a hand on your shoulder. It was Max.

“You don’t let them get to you,” he said quietly, looking you in the eyes. “It’s one race. And you’ll get them next time.”

Before you could respond, Lando appeared, his usual grin plastered across his face. “Max is right, of course. And if they keep giving you trouble, just let me know. I’m pretty good at handling the media.”

Charles joined them, his voice more serious than usual. “We’ve all been there. Don’t let them make you doubt yourself. We’re all in this together.”

That was when it hit you—this wasn’t just about the competition on the track. They truly cared about you, and despite the pressures of racing, they weren’t about to let you face it alone.

Franco appeared just as they were finishing up, walking over to the group with a quiet smile. “Everyone’s right,” he added, offering a knowing look. “And if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m always around. No need to fight your battles alone.”

From that moment on, you felt the weight of their protectiveness more than ever. It wasn’t just about them looking out for a rookie; it was about them making sure you knew that no matter what happened, you weren’t alone on the grid.

The bond between you and Franco deepened as the weeks went on. In between races, the two of you shared quiet conversations in the back of the garage, or while waiting for your cars to be prepped. You spoke about everything—racing, family, the weird quirks of the Formula 1 lifestyle, and even the things you’d been avoiding thinking about. Franco’s steady support and dry humor became something you could rely on, and the way he listened without judgment made him one of the few you truly felt comfortable with.

In a world that often felt like a competition to survive, you finally understood: you had people here, and they weren’t just teammates or rivals—they were your family.

And Franco, despite being new to the grid himself, was starting to feel more like a brother than just a teammate.

[poisonsage808]

Ma Meilleure Ennemie

Steb x Reader

warnings: set before and in season 2, language, angst, violence, police brutality

Judgement was a hard thing to shake. Topsiders were wealthy in their demeaning ideas of how the undercity worked. Fortunately, it often would work in your favor. They could say what they wanted about Zaunites, you took care of your own. Rumors and lies didn’t spread half as fast as a warning.

“Enforcers!”

Promises sacred down here too. Deals? Made to be broken, everyone knew that. Anyone could make a deal knowing full well that double crossings were a daily occurrence. Promises were special, though. Friends hooked their pinkies together in sincerity, a vow to uphold; while lovers whispered sacred oaths coated in devotion. A promise is a promise.

You should’ve known a topsider wouldn’t keep one.

Fuck, your lungs burned and itched like they were turning to cinders. You were on fire from the inside out, set ablaze when you couldn’t outrun the giant, moving, grey cloud that chased you. You could barely breathe inside of it, choking on the ashes of your lungs while your body tried to force them out.

You were staggering blindly on your hands and knees just trying to make it out of the death cloud alive. Another cough racked your body, desperate for air. Through your closed eyes you were blinded by white light. You fought against the hands that gripped you.

Swearing with a scratchy throat, you growled out, “Leave us alone!”

You heard your name, felt an obscenely gentle palm at your cheek and instantly knew who it belonged to. Behind that soulless mask was—

“Steb?” You croaked, peaking out of one bloodshot eye to no avail.

It couldn’t be. He wouldn’t do something like this.

Not-Steb ripped off his mask and pressed it to your face. The hissing noise made you wince and pull away but the enforcer held it firm against you. Air— real air; not the poorly filtered kind that you were used to— rushed to your lungs. It was frightening, addictive. Something topsiders took for granted every waking day.

Barely clear headed, thoughts and questions began battling in your mind. Weakly, you wrapped your hand around Not-Steb’s wrist. The grey smoke was lingering in the distance but you’d been dragged just far enough that you could breathe again. Suddenly, you shoved the hand and mask away. You kicked back, hitting a wall that you used to get back on your feet. Blinking away the sting, you shook your head until your vision focused.

Your heart sunk.

“You’re…” Your brows stitched together in confusion and rising anger. “What’re you doing?”

Steb, the Steb that you loved and trusted, straightens at your accusatory tone. He blinks carefully, eyes darting all around as he tries to come up with an answer.

“I thought when you wanted to become a fucking bucket head, it was to help.”

You never minded that he was quiet, never made him talk when he didn’t want to. The two of you could sit in silence for hours. Sometimes the conversation would go on and on with only your voice filling the gaps, sometimes he felt like contributing more and you’d tease that he was being too chatty. He’d laugh, a sound you loved, and find a way to get back at you.

You and Steb found a way to communicate without words.

“How is this helping, Steb?”

However you needed a fucking answer for this.

Hurried footsteps rush towards you just when his lips part. A smaller enforcer, but an enforcer all the same. Orange whisps peak out from under the barrette and you can feel their glare underneath those haunting goggles. They point their gun at your nose, voice distorted from the mask.

“You got one!” They say, rather cheerfully, to Steb. To you, “Do you have information on the fugitive Jinx?”

You spat at their boots.

Steb’s eyes widen slightly, his brows tilting up. He’d never seen this side of you before. He’s never had to.

The enforcer turns their weapon and the butt of their gun comes crashing, aimed for your shoulder. You didn’t flinch, so you didn’t miss Steb throw his arm out to stop his colleague. There’s a moment of confusion, a struggle as he grabs their weapon and wrenches it away.

“What the hell, Riba!?”

“Yeah, what the hell.” You mock.

“That’s enough, Nolen!” Steb’s deep voice holds a bizarre sense of authority. You’re not used to seeing him this way either.

You’re almost jealous of the silent argument he shares with the enforcer, Nolen, until he pushes their gun into their chest. You smirk, feeling mildly satisfied at their walk of shame back into the grey but it falls the minute you find yourself back in Steb’s gaze.

“So that’s how it is, huh? Gas and beat the answers out of us?”

He reached for you quickly, desperate to tell you that wasn’t what was happening; it wasn’t what you thought it was; this was important. Something along those lines you were sure. Enforcers were predictable that way. And you knew if he managed to get ahold of you again, that you would melt into his touch and believe him because you so very badly wanted to.

“Why d’ya wanna be a bucket head anyways?”

Hopping off the last stone, you made it over the stream only to slip backwards. A hand shot out immediately and locked on your arm, yanking you to the rocky shore. You laughed but your friend didn’t. Steb’s vicious side eye was halfhearted but serious all the same.

“Yeah, yeah, you wanna help people. I didn’t forget! Jus’ think it’s stupid s’all. Never met one enforcer that wanted to help.”

Your heart constricts so tightly it brings tears to your eyes. Anger turns to mourning before you can stop it.

“We pretended as long as we could Stubby, but we can’t ignore it anymore.”

A familiar warmth encased your wrist, smaller sliding down until a smaller digit curled around your pinky. Your shoulder slumped upon contact. You knew when you turned around his ears would be flattened and his big, blue, crystal eyes, soft and pleading.

“Please,” he manages. His mouth open and shuts but he can’t summon any other words.

“Riba!”

You can see his ears flattening at the sound of returning footsteps, and more. Locking eyes with him, you make sure he knows what you can’t bring yourself to say. Steb winces as his name is shouted again, unable to tear his eyes from you. He’s scanning you like he’s trying to commit your face to memory, something he’s done in adoration and longing when you’re forced to part. This time it’s fear. His boot shuffles back, body angled to leave but he refuses to move, torn between duty and love.

“Go do what you have to.” You said as sweetly as you could in hopes it would cover the venom of your words.

“I didn’t forget, Stubby,” you tilted your head, wearing a lopsided smile. Intertwining all your fingers, you held his hand firmly and continued tugging him down the path, “You promised to be the first.”

You made the choice for him and took off running.

~

comment jinxer or firelight to help me decide part 2

firelight 3 _ jinxer 0

come talk about arcane (and more!) with us on [discord]!

[stellamarielu]

sweetheart

declan o'hara x female reader

summary: working late with your boss (who you have a massively embarrassing crush on) was a normal occurrence for you. not a normal occurrence? him finding your favorite smutty romance novel and asking too many questions about it.

content: mutual pining, nsfw themes, age gap i guess, not actual smut but there are implications, teasing, some dirty talk (bc let's be real it's "how would you have liked him to touch you" declan)

author's note: so this is the first writing i've posted on here because this man and his hairy chest have me in a chokehold. the internet deserves more rivals fics!

——————————————————————

It was the third Thursday in a row you found yourself still at work after everyone else had gone home. You were sat across from your boss, the only thing separating you was an office desk. The piece of furniture was obnoxiously oversized, but you were thanking the universe for it because if Declan was sat even an inch closer, he would probably be able to hear your heart pounding. You had such a ridiculous crush on him. You knew it was inappropriate, but you couldn’t seem to care less. So here you were working overtime just to sit and gawk at him. Pathetic.

Sometimes you swore there was some sort of tension between the two of you. The accidental stares that lingered a little too long. The careful touch of his hand on your lower back when he passed behind you. Sure, you were probably reading too far into it, but in the back of your mind you hoped that he saw you as more than a young naïve coworker. 

Your delusions were further fueled by Declan’s constant invitations to join him in his office on Thursday nights. You couldn’t help but wonder if he knew that you would stay late every single night if he asked you to. 

But of course, he knew. 

He knew you thought he was attractive. He knew that his presence made you nervous. He knew that you had an embarrassing schoolgirl crush on him, and he liked it. 

Not only did he like the idea of you wanting him, but Declan reciprocated it. He spent most days with his gaze trained on the work laid out in front of him to avoid eye contact with you. He knew the second your eyes met he wouldn’t be able to control the small smile that tugged at his lips. He would never admit it, but he lived for making you giggle. The sound of your laugh was irresistible. He would crack little jokes throughout the day just to hear it.

Your voice alone was like music to his ears- christ, even the way you said his name drove him insane. He could feel warmth spreading through his chest just thinking about it.

The thoughts he had about you were unbecoming. Thoughts a boss shouldn’t have about their employee let alone an employee that was almost half their age. 

So, he tried his best to suppress his feelings and treat you as he would any other coworker. But it sure as hell didn’t help when you were always so quick to stay late and help him with his work. Granted he knew by asking you to assist him after hours he was just digging himself deeper into this newfound obsession. But he couldn’t help it, he longed to be in your presence even if it was just an extra hour or two once a week. 

These nights were mostly filled with silence but the occasional banter about office drama or a Keats work that you both admired was enough to have him wrapped around your finger day after day.

“What was that article you were tellin’ me about?” His question breaks the silence that had been occupying the room for the last fifteen minutes. 

You look up from your busy work only to be met with his kind eyes. For a man that had no problem showing his angry side, you felt lucky that you so often got to experience a version of Declan that was calm and light-hearted. You sometimes thought he had a sweet spot for you, although you came to terms with it probably being because you reminded him of his daughter who was just a few years younger than you.  

“Oh. Yeah. I forgot about that. Hold on I think I have it in here.” You began the search for an article you had mentioned to him that morning. It was an old gossip piece that you thought would be good for him to use on the show tomorrow night. 

You began taking things out of your bag one by one trying your best to find the paper in your giant unorganized tote. Notepads, books, a handful of pens, and your favorite lipstick that you thought you lost months ago are now strewn across Declan’s desk as you continue digging through your belongings. 

A small chuckle escapes Declan making you stop your search for a split second. Your head snaps up expecting to see him looking at you in irritation for creating such a mess, instead you notice his attention on one of the books you had taken out of your bag. Looking down you realize your copy of Lizzie Vereker’s novel was sat on his desk. A novel that was well known for its extremely erotic contents… and your copy was so worn the spine was barely intact. 

Before you could try to say something to make the situation less mortifying Declan spoke, 

“I see you’ve read Lizzie’s book then.” 

There was no questioning his amusement. He seemed to be enjoying how awkward this was for you. 

“That Lizzie is a quirky gal, but a truly great author.” He finished and picked up the book thumbing through the pages. 

“She gave me a copy after the garden party last month. When she mentioned to me that she was a writer, this-” you said motioning to the book, “wasn’t exactly what I had in mind”

You giggled as you spoke and the second the sound left your lips Declan’s eyes met yours. There was something about his stare now that you couldn’t place. 

“So I take it you’ve read it then?” You asked him, needing to say something to keep yourself from full on passing out in embarrassment. You wish you had asked something else because you desperately needed to change the subject from the smutty pages Declan held in his hands. 

“My-“ He paused, “Maud read it years ago. I remember readin’ a bit of it myself. Absolute filth.” 

He was looking back down at the book while his hands found the worn spine, a smirk plastered on his face. 

Okay, so now he knew you were so miserably horny that you not only read the book, but you enjoyed it so much that you must’ve re-read it multiple times- hence the condition of the novel. 

“You certainly seem to be a fan of her work.”

With this comment your humiliation began turning into irritation. Was he trying to further embarrass you by implying that you’ve clearly enjoyed the book? Can a woman not read exceptionally horny literature in peace? Now you’re becoming annoyed by the whole conversation. Afterall, it’s really none of Declan’s business what you do in your free time.  

“Yeah, well I spend a lot of nights alone in my apartment Declan.” You deadpan. “I’ve found the dating pool in this town to be quite depressing and I’m 99% sure the men in that book are much better than anyone I would meet here anyway.” 

You haven’t been living here long, it’s been maybe three months since you got the job to be a production assistant on Declan’s show. You’ve been working so much that you haven’t had much time to scope out the town’s most eligible bachelors, but from what you’ve seen you’re not interested. Not to mention the inconveniently debilitating crush that you had on your boss keeping you from noticing anyone else at all. 

“Oh and why’s that?” He challenges. This time looking you straight in the eyes, a smirk still playing on his lips.

Alright, he wanted to keep this up so why not. Two could play at this game. 

“For starters, these men” You steal the book out of his hands, “are written by women. Meaning they have empathy, they’re emotionally expressive and socially aware. Seemingly simple character traits but you would be shocked by how many men I’ve met in the last few months who lack the basic complexity of a fictional character.”

His smirk has turned into a full-blown smile making your body feel warm. 

“Not to mention the men in this book are capable of making a woman cum not just once but multiple times in a row. Which seems to be an impossible task for every man I’ve been with.” You continue your rant. Declan’s eyes fixed on you.

“These guys are getting off on a woman’s pleasure” you tap your book, “truly enjoying making their partner feel good. Meanwhile in reality, most men don’t even care if you finish as long as they get theirs.”  The second the words leave your mouth you realize you’re talking about orgasms with your unbelievably handsome boss staring right at you and immediately feel the need to hide underneath the desk in front of you. 

You look at Declan and notice his expression has gone from playful to something more serious. His lips show no evidence of a smile, instead they’re now relaxed and somewhat parted. His deep brown eyes are slightly hooded, and you could’ve sworn you noticed his chest rising and falling at a rather quick pace. He waits a few moments before standing from his chair and slowly making his way to your side of the desk.

“Well sweetheart,” 

Your mouth gapes open at the words. He’s never called you that. But hearing the pet name fall from his lips in such a deep raspy tone sends shivers down your spine. 

“I’ll have you know the kind of men you’re talkin’ about from your book do indeed exist.”

No longer separated by the desk he now stood right next to you, close enough that you could smell his cologne and the cigarette smoke that lingered on his suede blazer. 

“Some men relish in their partner’s pleasure. They can’t get enough of the way their body reacts to their touch. The way they look so needy and desperate for release.” 

He stops for a brief second. His eyes slowly drop to your feet and take their sweet time coming back up to meet your eyes, steadily drinking in the sight of your body underneath him as you sit still in your chair.

“The pretty noises they make as they come undone.”

His Irish accent sounds heavier than normal, and his voice is hushed. Your body is frozen in place and the room suddenly feels ten degrees hotter. His words are stirring something thick and foggy in your head and you can’t think straight. You’re all too aware of how close you are to him. Your face a mere foot away from his crotch. You’re able to make out the intricately braided patterns in his belt and you try to stop yourself from letting your eyes sink lower to what’s beneath it. 

Declan watches your gaze fall, and his mind starts to race. Knowing any second now his attraction to you will be evident by the strain of his pants. He gently takes your chin in his fingertips and pulls your gaze upward so you’re now looking up at him through your lashes. 

Fuck- that sight alone is enough to make him finish in his pants like a teenage boy.

You looking up at him with innocent eyes, your lips parted just inches away from his hips- he thinks he may die right there on the spot. The effect you have on him is intoxicating, clouding his thoughts and almost making him see stars. What he says next comes from a place of carnal desire surprising even him, 

“Unbelievable that the men who’ve had the privilege of bein’ with you don’t even know how to fuck you properly. If I had you in my bed I would take my sweet time makin’ you cum over and over again until you’re beggin’ me to stop.”

As he speaks the hand that was resting underneath your chin gradually makes its way down, his fingertips now ghosting your jawline. 

“You deserve somebody who knows how to make you feel good sweetheart.”

There he goes with that nickname again. This time he says it and you can’t deny the warmth that pools between your thighs.  

Just as you open your mouth to respond, Declan’s phone starts to ring. Your eyes remain locked on one another as the incessant ringing continues. You were beginning to think Declan would ignore the call so he could continue dirty talking you into a puddle, but he stood up straight from his position at the desk and began walking to the other side of the room. Answering the phone, he gazed back at you running a hand through his curls, nothing but lust in his eyes.

You sat up in your chair, blinking slowly and trying to gather your scattered thoughts. You weren’t sure what had just happened, but you did know one thing. 

The next time you found yourself that close to Declan O’hara’s belt you would be undoing it. 

[hanniebaeee]

Midnight Whispers

Demon! Hyunjin x fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT MDNI

Genre: supernatural au!, slight angst, smut

Summary: You suffer from insomnia, and on a sleepless night, you tune into a midnight radio show...and the voice that you hear captivates you and consumes you completely.

It was close to midnight again. You tossed and turned in your bed, pulling the blanket closer in a feeble attempt to catch some sleep. You groaned as you thought about your early shift tomorrow.

But insomnia had become your companion. You desperately wanted to sleep. To just get some rest. But here you were, wide awake and terribly fatigued. The room was dark, except for the faint glow of the little alarm clock on your bedside table.

You sighed and turned around, your eyes falling on the clock, and then on the old radio you had bought on a whim from an antique shop near your workplace. It was surprising that it still worked, despite the fact that it looked ancient.

You tuned in to a familiar station, but the static made it nearly impossible to hear anything clearly. With a frustrated sigh, you twisted the dial a bit further when suddenly, the static faded, replaced by the smoothest, most captivating voice you’d ever heard.

“Hello, night owls. Welcome back to another midnight hour with me… Hyunjin.”

You froze.

The voice. It was rich and smooth, sending shivers skittering down your spine. Your fingers paused on the dial as you leaned in closer, the tiny hairs on the back of your neck standing on end.

“If you’re awake right now, it’s probably because you can’t sleep. Or maybe…” he paused, “you’re waiting for me.”

Your lips parted, as you stared at the old radio wide eyed.

“I’ll be your company tonight,” Hyunjin purred, his voice dropping lower. “Let’s make this hour ours.”

You didn’t sleep that night.

It became a ritual. You realize that the station was all white noise all through the day. But at midnight, you heard his voice again. Every night, Hyunjin spoke like he knew you. Like he was speaking only to you.

“Another long day, hmm? I can feel your exhaustion, love. But don’t worry… I’m here now.” His voice dripped with warmth, and maybe a tinge of teasing?

You found yourself smiling despite knowing that he's talking to hundreds of listeners. You should have been afraid of how addicted you were getting. And about how accurately he described your day, or even randomly throwing in the little details.

Like the little daily earrings you wore. Or the worn out old sweater that you wore. A simple baby pink one.

“You look good in that color,” Hyunjin whispered. “So beautiful...”

Your breath hitched, eyes darting to your reflection in the mirror. How could he possibly know? You shook your head, cheeks burning.

This was ridiculous. A mere coincidence. And yet, you couldn’t stop listening. Or stop craving him.

And the days? They became unbearable. You were completely consumed by thoughts of him. His voice looped in your mind like a song you couldn’t forget. You flinched whenever someone spoke too loudly. You did your job almost mechanically and every second leading up to midnight felt like torture.

By the time the clock struck twelve, you were already perched on the edge of your bed, fingers gripping the edge of the radio as if it were a lifeline. And when his voice came through - you were done for.

“My favorite listener… waiting for me again, aren’t you?”

“Maybe,” you whispered, though he couldn’t hear you.

“I like that you need me.” His chuckle was low, intimate. “You make my nights worthwhile too.”

Your breath hitched. Every word he spoke felt like a caress, like his fingers sliding over your skin and settling deep within you. He talked about everything and nothing. You didn't understand his world or his poetic words sometimes, but each passing day, you were caught in his seductive web - a little tighter.

His voice was darker, a bit softer, like the brush of satin against bare skin.

“Do you know what you do to me? Knowing you’re out there, listening? It’s…intoxicating.”

Your pulse quickened and goosebumps covered your skin.

“I think about you, even when I shouldn’t. About how you might sound saying my name.”

“Hyunjin,” you whispered, your voice shaky.

The static crackled, and then he laughed darkly.

“Good girl.” he cooed, and the words hit you like lightning. Your hands gripped the edge of your bed as his voice continued to seep into you.

You let out a shaky breath and you heard him exhale as well.

“You’re so good for me,” Hyunjin purred, his voice dipping lower, like the stroke of a hand over your neck. “So obedient. I can imagine you, on your bed, holding on to my voice like it’s the only thing tethering you to the world. Are you trembling for me, baby?”

“Yes,” you breathed, your head tilting back, knees pulling tighter against your chest as heat bloomed between your thighs.

“I wish I could see you. Touch you.” His words were laced with a longing that mirrored your own. “Do you think about it too? My hands on you, my lips whispering all the little things I want to do to you?”

“Yes,” you gasped again, your nails digging into your palms. The image was too vivid, his voice too close.

“I’d be so gentle at first,” Hyunjin said, his voice dropping, dragging over your senses. “Tracing your skin, feeling every inch of you shiver under my fingertips. But then…”

He paused, a wicked laugh crackling through the speaker.

“Then I’d ruin you, just the way you want me to,”

Your entire body was burning. You pressed your forehead to your knees, a strangled sound escaping your lips.

“Hyunjin,” you whispered his name, broken and raw, and the static seemed to stutter in response.

“That’s it, love,” he crooned. “Say my name. Let me hear you. Let me feel you.”

You shivered, a desperate moan catching in your throat as your head fell back against the headboard.

Every day, you floated through your routine like a ghost, restless and jittery. You waited for Hyunjin’s voice to unravel you piece by piece. You were disconnecting from your world, your loneliness only fueling the need to be with Hyunjin more and more. You knew this was unhealthy.

But the worst part was you didn’t want it to stop. You craved him, and each night, his words pulled you deeper into the spiral.

“You’ve been so patient, my love,” Hyunjin’s voice was softer than usual. “I can feel how much you want me.”

You closed your eyes, feeling his words wrapping around you like a lover’s embrace.

“Tell me, sweetheart. Do you dream about me? Do you wish to feel me beside you?”

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice trembling. ‘Please, yes-”

“I want it too,” he admitted, his voice rougher now. “I want you so bad…I think about you all the time…alone in your bed, aching for me.”

Your heart stuttered and your entire body shivered.

“One day, sweetheart,” he promised, his voice a dark caress. “One day, I’ll find you. And when I do, you won’t have to imagine anymore. I’ll make you feel everything you’ve been craving. Until then… keep waiting for me. Keep needing me. I’ll always be here, just for you.”

The radio went silent, and you collapsed against your bed, gasping for air as his words echoed in your mind.

You were spiraling. You knew it.

But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered, except him.

For three nights, your world had been silent.

The radio sat where it always did, the faint hum of static mocking you. Because Hyunjin wasn’t there. His voice wasn’t there.

You’d tried to convince yourself it was just a glitch. Maybe the old radio was finally dying. That he’d never abandon you.

And now, as the third sleepless night bled into day, your body was failing you. You hadn’t eaten in days. You hadn’t even moved off your bed. It felt pointless without him. Everything felt pointless.

You were scared. The loneliness, and all the insecurities that you'd buried away, everything that Hyunjin was able to cure… slowly crept back. The emptiness clawed at your chest, dragging you down into a darkness that felt deeper than the night.

A part of you whispered that this was it - that you were dying. And right now, it didn't seem like such a bad idea.

But then, the air in the room shifted. Everything dulled around you, leaving only a heavy, charged silence. You felt it before you saw it - a presence, so dark and powerful.

Hyunjin.

He stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the faint moonlight streaming through the window. His dark hair fell in soft waves around his face, his features sharp and so achingly beautiful. He looked otherworldly - too perfect to be of your world.

But his eyes… they burned. Deep and crimson, glowing faintly in the darkness, they raked over you with hunger.

You wanted to speak, but your voice wouldn’t come. You sat up on your bed, your eyes taking him in. You weren't sure if you were dreaming.

“You shouldn’t look at me like that,” he murmured, stepping inside. His voice floated over to you, and you shuddered.

He was here. He was really here.

“Hyunjin,” you croaked, the sound barely audible.

His name on your lips made him falter. Guilt flickered across his face, but it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by something darker. Something primal.

“You’re not dreaming, my love.” His voice was a low rasp, heavy with emotion.

If this wasn’t a dream…

“Why did you leave me?” The question tore from your throat, raw and broken, a sob catching on the edges of your words.

Hyunjin flinched, his jaw tightening. He looked almost… pained.

“I had to,” he said softly, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I stayed too long. I took too much. I thought… if I left, you’d be free of me.”

“Free of you?” You let out a bitter laugh. “There’s nothing left to free.”

Your words hung heavy in the air, and he crossed the room in a single step, kneeling beside your bed. His hand hovered over your cheek, but he didn’t touch you.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he murmured, his voice cracking. “You were supposed to be like the others - a fleeting moment of pleasure…to sustain me. But you…”

“You’re different…I don’t want to destroy you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, his crimson eyes meeting yours. “But I can’t let you go, either.”

All you could do was stare at him.

“You’ve been feeding on me,” you said slowly, the realization sinking in. “All this time.”

Hyunjin didn’t deny it.

“I feed on emotions - desire, love…lust. It’s how I survive. And you…” His voice softened, his gaze turning tender. “You’ve been a feast.”

His words should have scared you. They should have made you scream and fight. But you were too far gone for that.

All you felt was relief.

“You didn’t have to leave,” you said, your voice trembling. “I would’ve given you everything. I still will.”

Hyunjin’s eyes darkened, the glow intensifying as his hunger bled through.

“Don’t say that,” he growled, his hand dropping and fisting at his side. “You don’t understand -.”

“I do,” you said firmly. “I don’t care what you are, Hyunjin. I just need you.”

With a groan that sounded almost like a curse, he gave in, his hand finally brushing against your cheek. The touch sent a jolt through your weak, shaking body. You closed your eyes as his thumb ran over your lips. He leaned closer, his breath warm against your skin.

“Look at me,” He said, and you obey, to find his crimson eyes searching yours.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he murmured, his voice low and possessive.

“Yes,” you whispered, tears slipping down your cheeks. “I’m yours.”

Hyunjin’s lips brushed against yours, soft and hesitant. But you pressed closer, desperately, clinging to him with what little strength you had left.

And then the kiss deepened. It was raw - his hunger bleeding into every movement, every touch. His hands roamed over your body, careful yet possessive, as though trying to memorize every inch of you.

But there was something else in his touch. Something tender. Something that felt dangerously close to love.

“If I stay,” he said softly. “I can’t promise I won’t hurt you.”

“I don’t care,” you replied, tears still streaming down your face. “Just don’t leave me again.”

Hyunjin closed his eyes, as he whispered, “Never.”

Surrendering to Hyunjin wasn't as terrifying as you thought. It felt like the most intoxicating freedom you had ever known. You were completely in awe of him - his power, his elegance, the way he moved so gracefully, dripping with sensuality and control.

His fingers grazed over the soft curve of your jaw. The touch was light and teasing, and you craved for more.

Hyunjin’s gaze was fixed on you as his fingers danced down your neck, then to your shoulder, brushing the strap of your nightgown. Your breath hitched as he pulled it down, slowly, teasingly, exposing your skin to him.

He left soft open mouthed kisses down your shoulder, your chest…down to your breast, which he cupped gently. You felt a faint chill in your body. Like it was swirling within you.

You looked into Hyunjin’s crimson eyes as he squeezed your soft flesh.

"Do you feel it?" His voice was low, full of wonder, as he gazed at you. "The power you're drawing from me?"

You didn’t answer immediately, because you were trying not to faint at the way his touch was burning you. You felt… alive.

"Yes," you finally managed to say, your voice thick with lust and something that felt like a spark of something. "I can feel it."

Hyunjin paused, his expression darkening with both awe and confusion. He had never seen this before. His victims had always withered under his touch, drained and broken by the connection. But you?

You were thriving.

“You should be nothing but an empty shell when I touch you." He said, and you can hear the confusion in his voice.

But you felt your body glow, the heat of his touch making your skin shimmer with a radiance you couldn’t explain. His hands went lower, sliding beneath your nightgown, his fingers brushing against your thighs. Hyunjin leans in to press a kiss on your nipple, before sucking it into his mouth.

You gasped, your fingers finding its place in his hair. And you felt stronger.

"Why?" Hyunjin’s voice was ragged now, his words soaked with need. He suckled on you, his hands working quickly to get rid of your clothes. He had to feel you. He had to taste you.

When he straightened, to capture your lips in a searing kiss, you felt empowered - you were drawing his essence, his dark energy from him, that had once been his weapon. But now, it was slipping through his fingers.

Hyunjin couldn't take it anymore. He sat up to discard his clothes as you watched…your body desperate to be filled.

He was on you in a minute, his lips attaching to your neck as he sucked and nipped at the soft skin roughly. You knew his grip would bruise you, but you were literally trembling with the power coursing through you.

"You feel it, don’t you?" he growled, his voice a low rasp.

You arched your back, feeling the need for him. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, pulling him down, wanting him, but more than that, you wanted to give him what he needed.

Hyunjin nails scraped against the skin of your thighs as he parted them and quickly ran a finger through your dripping folds. You were so wet.

He couldn't help it as he lowered himself, his tongue finding your folds. He licked into you, moaning as your sweet nectar coated his tongue. You gasped as you felt his tongue prodding deeper into your hole, and Hyunjin couldn't hold back anymore. He was up, his lips and chin glistening with your juices, and your eyes on his length as he pumped it a couple of times.

And then, in the blink of an eye, Hyunjin was inside you. You moaned at the stretch, but it was the most delicious sting ever.

He could see the faint swirl of light in your eyes.

"How is this possible?" He breathed, his own body drawing strength from everything you were feeling.

Your eyes twinkled, the golden glow of your skin reflecting the new, strange energy that flowed between you, your soul now entwined with his.

His thrusts grew frantic, his grip on your hips tightening. You reached up, cupping his face with your hand.

"Don't fight it, Hyunjin. Let me feel you. Let me have you, just as you have me." You whispered.

And if Hyunjin had any more doubt within him, it was all gone. Hyunjin moved harder, both of you reveling in the bond, an eternal link that neither of you could sever.

"Hyun-," you breathed, your voice desperate, pleading. "Please, don’t stop."

His lips curved into a wicked smile, his eyes glinting with a dark promise. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss so deep, so sensual, you felt it all the way to your core. And your orgasm came crashing down.

You shuddered and your body shook as you came down from your high, clenching desperately around him. And this had Hyunjin crashing, spilling deep inside you. He collapsed against you, breathing heavily, his body pressing against yours, hot and solid.

“Do you know what you’re doing to me?” Hyunjin whispered, his voice sending shivers down your spine. “I’ve never felt way before.”

His words, so raw, so vulnerable, struck a chord deep within you. The bond was no longer just physical. Your souls were connected, intertwined - you had become a part of him.

And it didn’t scare you. You were his, and he was yours, and nothing, no force, could ever change that. You were immortal, you were powerful. Together.

a/n: Demon Hyunjin - a concept I'll never get tired of🙏

[thetadispatcher]

Strasky glanced at Rook then back to Peter, they were nearly the same person if not for a few minor differences. Strasky knew he couldn't do the same type of work Peter was, nor would he be comfortable with it, but he had a feeling that was just due to his personal experiences. "Sometimes it feels more like I attract troublesome things, but I can live with that." He felt nothing would ever live up to what he'd experienced on PATHOS-II, so he was fine with whatever mess he found himself in. "And there's nothing wrong with being friendly, that's the best way to meet very interesting people." Or in Peter's case it was androids mainly if the home's residents were anything to go by.

But neither Strasky nor Peter felt like speaking on the subject with each other as they both still found it odd and a little unsettling to think they were practically the same person. And Peter had made it clear to Strasky he wasn't ready to approach the subject with how quickly he'd brushed it off and found something to busy himself, something he recognized as a tactic to prevent any possible thoughts on the subject by means of a distraction that took most of his attention.

"Shouldn't be too hard to reformat them so they can operate on an android's brain. I'd just have to see the one first." Peter paused as he noticed Strasky react to what he'd said, something which he felt was a little concerning but he wasn't going to comment on it yet, not until he had more information.

"But I have worked on enough custom and limited release androids to say that building one from scratch wouldn't be an issue." He had managed to get his hands on the equipment necessary to build custom parts for androids, so thankfully he wouldn't have to rely on any outside help from any former Cyberlife employees for the parts.

Dan and Peter both turned to look at Nines when Willow mentioned the authorities, the RK900 glanced at them before his LED turned yellow and his eyes took on a far away look. The LED returned to a calm blue after a moment as he refocused on the two looking at him. "I have found no law that prohibits what is being requested. So the work would be perfectly legal." Nines responded to the unasked question, knowing that was the reason they'd turned to look at him.

"Even if it wasn't, it probably wouldn't be the worst illegal thing I've done." Peter giggled as he turned his attention back to Dan who gave him a knowing look. "Tricking a Cyberlife employee and buying an android at fourteen is probably way more illegal then sticking a digital brain into an android." He smiled at Dan as he hugged the PL600's head, the android gently patting his arm in response.

"He really means a lot... How come?" Strasky asked, he decided it was time he asked as the relationship between the two was clearly familial, but he couldn't figure out just what role Dan fit into in Peter's mind.

"Well, I may call the androids here my friends, I only call two my brothers. Dan is one of them, basically the older brother I didn't know I wanted." Peter answered happily, showing he really didn't have an issue with putting an android into such a special role as most humans would. "Sure, Dan's only four years old, but he's way more of an older brother then a younger one."

Strasky nodded, he knew there was more to the story of how and why Dan was acquired, he just wasn't sure if anyone else cared to know so he decided not to press further. But after all he had seen with the relationship between androids and humans, he was happy to see one where both felt like they were equals.

"Cyberlife has already done something kinda like what you're probably thinking anyways. GV200 looks exactly like Kamski's half brother Gavin, his entire existence was basically being made in the hopes of Gavin running into him and getting upset about it. Which never happened before the company that owned him had him junked, turns out Gavin doesn't travel by plane like Kamiski thought. But I fixed him up, with Kamski's help as the parts were custom and that was my first time dealing with that." Peter sneered at the mention of working with Kamski, Dan had a similar reaction which made it clear the man hadn't made a very good impression with them.

"Getting accused of being the one to make him was not fun... Thankfully, Gavin believed me when I told him who had actually done it so he's only gone off on me for it the one time. Guess I should've known something was up when Kamski showed up after I placed the parts order, but it's hard to tell what the face of an android with no skin looks like until you turn them on." Nines smirked a bit at Peter's mention of Gavin's behavior, showing he had some level of experience with it.

Well, it was good to know they were going to meet even more androids by just being in Peter's immediate vicinity. At least so far only one seemed fine attacking strangers on sight, even though Bishop wasn't too keen on trusting Nines' either after the poor state he showed up in.

And knowing there was another nearly identical more deranged android around they hadn't met yet didn't please Bishop either. So he stood back with his arms crossed, keeping an eye out in case somebody else felt like joining them.

"It's funny, isn't it? You meet a whole new guy, but it's still you!" Rook said while giving Strasky an encouraging pat on the shoulder, "It looks like you guys have a thing for getting in trouble. But it's clear you're good at making friends too."

"Rook is something of an expert on the topic. However, we have more pressing matters to tend to." Willow chimed in, "To answer your question, it will indeed be custom work, but fortunately time isn't a concern."

"Yeah. We just want to know if you can put a construct into an android so they won't be stuck being formless entities anymore." Rook said with a shrug, "Those guys could really use having bodies again."

"You would be paid accordingly, both for the work itself and for the risk of taking part in such a project." A possibly illegal one, though Willow simply glanced at Dan instead of mentioning it out loud, "And we'd be thankful if none of this was mentioned to the authorities, or to Cyberlife, lest they start having more ideas they would come to regret later on."

[bugboi01]

Little Bird

touch starved! reader x yandere batfam (Bruce focused)

(A/N, thank you all so much for the support! Feel free to drop a request or ask me to tag you whenever I post something new!)

TW: Mentioned depression/neglect, manipulation, kidnapping

It took you a while to get used to the Waynes. At first, you were resistant. Anyone would be after being kidnapped by some random rich family, but you eventually began to lower your guard. While the circumstances weren't... ideal, the Waynes had been nothing but respectful since you were kidnapped.

Three months had passed before anyone touched you. You were half asleep in your bed, the chill of the room making you want to stay bundled up for as long as possible. There was a gentle knock at your door, and in walked Bruce with a gentle smile.

"Good morning, birdie," he cooed, sitting down on your bed and caressing your cheek. He found it adorable how you buried yourself under the blankets but made a note to get a heater for your room. You couldn't help but lean into the warm touch, craving the affection and heat. Bruce's smile widened at the sight.

"M-morning..." you murmured, still unsure how to address the man who had taken you away from everything you had known. Bruce had made it clear he wanted you to call him Dad or at least think of him as a father figure. Not that you had much experience with those. Both your mother and father had worked constantly in order to pay rent, which wasn't their fault, but it still left you feeling lonely.

This whole thing was making your emotions all weird. Sometimes, you would hate them. Other times, you would crave their reassurance. They all just made it so easy to talk to them. And now Bruce was giving you affection like you were one of his kids. If it was wrong, why did it feel so nice? You couldn't help the little whine you let out when Bruce tried to pull his hand away, face flushing with embarrassment at his chuckle.

"Shhh, birdie. I'm not going anywhere," Bruce whispered sweetly, carefully pulling you into his lap along with a blanket so you don't get cold. He held you close, gently rocking you like a baby until your eyes began to flutter closed once more. You fall back asleep to the sound of his gentle humming.

[writerfromshikahr]

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Lath’halani - Lucanis X Rook Fanfic

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Lucanis knelt, examining the small flowers scattered across the ground. Their vibrant pink petals caught his eye, delicate and striking.

“Whatcha found?” Bellara asked, her curiosity piqued.

“These flowers, they’re beautiful.” Lucanis’s gloved fingers brushed the petals with care.

Bellara leaned over his shoulder, her eyes lighting up. “Oh! I know what they are. In Dalish they are called "Lath’halani", it loosely translates into "Love's Healing". The story goes, if you give them to someone special, they’ll always take care of your heart, and you.”

“A flower can do all that?”

“Well, not literally,” Bellara admitted. “It’s just a myth—but a romantic one! And sometimes, we all need a little more tenderness in our lives, right?”

Lucanis stood, levelling her with a look. “I’m a Crow, Bellara. What part of my work screams ‘romantic’ to you?”

She grinned impishly. “Which is exactly why you should pick some and give them to—” She stopped abruptly, her mouth snapping shut.

“Give them to who?” He frowned, waiting.

“Well,” she began, shifting awkwardly, “Look, you didn’t hear this from me because I don’t like to gossip—”

“Could have fooled me,” he interrupted dryly. “Go on.”

Bellara forged ahead, unbothered. “But I’ve noticed... something between you and Rook. The way you two sneak glances at each other—honestly, it’s adorable. Like one of those stories where they don’t kiss until chapter thirty, but the tension is delicious. She’ll probably tell you, one star-filled night in Treviso, that you’re the only person who’s ever made her feel safe. And, in the end, you’ll save each other. Classic.”

“You got all that just from me looking at someone and smiling?” Lucanis muttered.

“Uh-huh.” Bellara’s energy remained as bouncy as ever. “I swear, I’m writing this down later. The Assassin’s Promise—a tale of love, danger, and—”

“Bellara,” he cut her off, his tone sharp. “If you write anything about me, I’ll swap your sugar for salt the next time I cook.”

“Fine, fine,” she relented, though her grin said otherwise. “All I’m saying is maybe you should pick some flowers for Rook. Take them back to the Lighthouse. I think she’d love them.”

Lucanis regarded her for a long moment, then knelt again, plucking a few blooms. He wrapped them carefully in his handkerchief and tucked them into the small pouch he usually reserved for poisons.

“I knew it!” Bellara squeaked, clapping her hands.

Lucanis shot her a look and sighed, “What exactly did you know?” His tone was flat, but a flicker of curiosity lingered.

“That underneath all the grumpiness and doom, you’re just a big softie. A romantic at heart!”

Lucanis rolled his eyes so hard that Bellara feared they might stick.

“I assure you, Bellara, whatever you think you know, you don’t.”

“Mm-hmm. That’s exactly what someone in denial would say.” She clasped her hands behind her back and practically skipped alongside him as they headed back to the Eluvian. “You’re going to give those flowers to Rook, aren’t you? You should. She’d love them. She’d look at you with those big, doe eyes and probably blush to her ears. So sweet.”

“Bellara…” His tone carried a warning, though it lacked bite.

“But I digress,” she continued breezily. “If you’d rather be the brooding type who stares longingly across the room and never acts on his feelings, that’s fine too. Classic slow-burn. Delicious tension. So much angst.”

Lucanis stopped abruptly, fixing her with a flat stare. “Do you ever stop talking?”

“Not when it’s this much fun.” Her grin was unapologetic.

For a moment, Lucanis debated whether or not to toss her into the nearest river. Ultimately, he decided against it, if only because she’d probably swim back with more commentary. Instead, he shook his head, whispered something in Antivan to himself, and resumed walking.

Bellara trailed behind him at a respectable distance—or perhaps a strategic one—but she couldn’t resist one last parting shot. “Just think about it, Lucanis. You, Rook, flowers, romance… a story for the ages!”

Lucanis didn’t dignify her with a response, though his fingers brushed the pouch at his side, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

[verstappenf1lecccc]

“Trust, Love, and Protection”

Warnings-: unwanted advances unwanted touching!

protective and supportive toto with a hint of fluff otherwise this is angst and is based off a serious topic.

The bright lights of the Las Vegas Grand Prix were blinding as they illuminated the night sky. The buzz of excitement filled the air, a constant hum of engines roaring, the thrill of high-speed racing, and the glitter of Hollywood flashing in the distance. It was a weekend of glitz and glamour, and everyone was there — from international celebrities to famous athletes and high-powered figures in the racing world.

But for her, standing on the edge of it all with her husband, Toto Wolff, and their son, Jack, the overwhelming attention was starting to feel more suffocating than exciting.

While Toto had always been protective of her, there was something about the sheer number of admirers at the Las Vegas GP that made her uneasy.

The fact that her husband was such a high-profile figure in the Formula 1 world meant that all eyes were constantly on their family.

That, in itself, wouldn’t have been a problem, but the way some people particularly certain men looked at her made her skin crawl.

As the evening wore on, she found herself growing increasingly uncomfortable.

She was used to the occasional lingering glance, but tonight, it seemed as if every other person was trying to catch her eye.

She could feel the weight of their gazes, like fingers brushing her skin, and it made her want to shrink into herself.

She had been trying to keep it together, to put on a brave face for her husband, who was occupied with the team, the sponsors, and the whirlwind of the weekend.

She wanted to be supportive.

She wanted to enjoy the moment.

But it was hard when so many men were treating her like a trophy on display rather than a person.

Her discomfort reached its peak when an actor a D-list one at that approached her.

He was slurring slightly, clearly tipsy, with an overbearing grin on his face as he leaned too close.

“Hey, you’re Toto’s wife, right? You’re even more hot and slutty up close,” he said, his voice dripping with lust.

She forced a smile, trying to be polite, but his hand brushed against hers.

She instinctively pulled back, but he wasn’t having it.

He leaned in too close, his hand now resting on her waist in a way that felt far too intimate. She stiffened.

“I’ve seen you around,” he continued, oblivious to her growing unease.

Her stomach turned.

She opened her mouth to say something to tell him to back off but just as she did, the crowd around them shifted, and she couldn’t spot Toto anywhere.

“Don’t be shy, darling,” the actor continued, his eyes scanning her in a way that made her want to shrink into herself.

“You know, I always thought you were more beautiful in person. Maybe we should hang out sometime, just the two of us, I’ve got a big hotel room booked if you get what I’m saying”.

Her pulse quickened.

She felt trapped, helpless.

As the actor’s hand slid a little too low on her back, her body tensed with disgust.

She could feel her skin crawling, and all she wanted was for Toto to show up and pull her away from the situation.

“I’m sorry, I think I need to go check on Jack,” she said, her voice a little too tight.

The actor blinked in surprise, momentarily taken aback, but he quickly raised his hands in mock surrender.

“Alright, alright, no harm done.”

The discomfort was still there, the feeling of being objectified, of being looked at as something to be taken, not cherished.

She wished she could just disappear, wished that Toto could take her away from all of this.

She quickly found Jack, who was standing by the barriers, playing with his toy car, quietly observing everything.

He was unusually quiet, which was strange for the usually lively little boy.

He looked up at his mother, his innocent eyes full of concern.

“Mummy, you okay?” Jack looked up at her, sensing something was off.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” she lied, kneeling down beside him, forcing a smile she didn’t feel.

“Just a little tired.”

But Jack wasn’t convinced.

His sharp eyes were always able to tell when something was wrong.

After all he was his father’s son and always knew when something was up with his mother. As she stood up, he grabbed her hand, his little fingers curling around hers.

“You don’t look okay, Mommy,” he said softly, his voice full of concern.

“Are you sad? Did something happen you can trust me mummy I won’t tell I swear” his little voice spoke.

Y/N blinked rapidly, trying to fight back the wave of emotion that suddenly washed over her.

She forced herself to smile at him, but it felt hollow, like the weight of the world had pressed down on her chest.

Jack tilted his head, clearly not buying it.

“Mommy, why do you look like you are going to cry?” he asked, his tiny voice filled with confusion. “Did someone make you sad?”

Toto had been nearby, talking to a few sponsors, but as soon as he heard Jack’s voice and looked between his son and his wife, noticing the subtle shift in her demeanour.

His own heart tightened as Y/N’s smile wavered, the cracks showing through as the tears that had been threatening to fall finally spilled over.

He hurried over to them, his face a mask of concern.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” he asked, his deep voice soft yet filled with urgency.

Before she could answer, Jack spoke up, his innocent words piercing through the air.

“That man, Mommy he made you cry. That actor.”

Toto’s expression darkened immediately.

He looked at her, hurt flashing in his eyes. “What actor?”

Her eyes widened.

She hadn’t meant for Jack to say anything. She’d hoped to shield Toto from what had happened.

“I—” she began, but her voice faltered.

Toto’s gaze never left her, his concern growing more intense. “What happened? Who was it?”

His protective instinct kicked in.

He hadn’t known she’d been dealing with uncomfortable advances all night, and the thought of someone making her feel this way especially in front of their son drove him to the edge of fury.

She looked away, trying to avoid his gaze, but he cupped her face gently, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Tell me, darling. I need to know.”

Jack was still holding her hand, now glancing up at his father, sensing the tension in the air.

“It was that actor… the one who kept touching her, Daddy,” Jack added, voice small but firm.

Toto’s jaw tightened. He turned back to his wife, his voice lower now, softer.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” “Don’t hide from me, darling,” he said softly. “Tell me what happened.”

“I didn’t want to cause a scene, Toto,” she whispered, her voice shaking as the emotions she’d been bottling up came to the surface.

“I didn’t want to start any drama. I just… I wanted to get away from him.”

Toto’s jaw tightened, his protective instincts roaring to life once again.

He gently kissed her forehead before looking down at their son.

“Jack, go with your aunt, okay? I need to talk to Mommy.” Jack, sensing the gravity of the situation, nodded quietly and ran off to join their family friend, not fully understanding but sensing his mother’s distress.

Toto didn’t waste a moment. He pulled Y/N close again, his arms enveloping her tightly as he held her against his chest.

Toto’s heart broke at the vulnerability in her voice.

His hand gently wiped away her tears, his thumb brushing over her cheek.

“Darling,” he said softly, “I trust you, I just don’t trust them. You’re my everything, and no one-no one —should make you feel this way.”

She gave him a small, sad smile, trying to hold back the tears.

Toto stepped forward, pulling her into his arms. “Shh, it’s okay,” he murmured against her hair, rubbing her back in slow, soothing motions.

But the tears didn’t stop. Y/N’s sobs were quiet but heavy, the kind that you couldn’t hold back anymore, no matter how hard you tried.

Y/N hiccupped through her tears, trying to compose herself, but the feeling of being violated, of being treated like an object, wouldn’t leave her.

Toto gently cupped her face, tilting her chin so she would look up at him.

“You don’t have to protect anyone but yourself, darling,” Toto said, his voice firm but gentle.

“I’ll make sure we leave this place as soon as you’re ready. You don’t have to be here if it doesn’t feel right.”

She let out a shuddering breath, the weight of the night lifting slightly as she melted into his embrace. Toto was her safe place. His love was her anchor.

“You know that jealousy doesn’t suit you,” she said, voice quiet. Toto chuckled softly, kissing the top of her head. “I like to see you smile more, not cry.”

Y/N sniffled, her heart swelling with love for the man who always knew exactly how to comfort her. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”

Toto let out a breath of frustration, but his expression softened.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Toto replied, his hand gently caressing her back. “I’ll always protect you, Y/N. Always.” “I’m sorry, darling. I should’ve been more attentive. I was too caught up in all of this… all these people… but I should’ve been with you. You should’ve never felt alone.”

He took a deep breath, his voice unwavering.

“I will make sure nothing like that ever happens again. Not on my watch.”

And as the lights of Las Vegas sparkled in the distance, Y/N realized that in Toto’s arms, she was safe.

The world could throw its distractions, its unwanted attention, and its people at her, but as long as she had him and their son by her side, nothing could take away her peace.

Jack tugged at his father’s hand.

“Daddy, Mommy’s really sad. Can we take her home?”

Toto nodded. “Yes, Jack. We’re going home. Right now.”

He pulled his wife close to him, wrapping his arms around her protectively, and he whispered into her ear, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there sooner. But I’m here now, and I will always protect you. Always.”

With a final glance at the chaos of the event around them, Toto guided his family through the crowd, their son Jack happily holding his mother’s hand as they walked to their car.

Toto stayed close to her the entire way, his eyes scanning the surroundings, his hand never leaving hers.

He was determined that from this moment forward, she would never have to feel like that again.

As they climbed into the car, Toto turned to her, his voice soft and sincere. “I love you more than anything. Don’t ever feel like you have to hide things from me. I’m here for you, always.”

She smiled, feeling the weight of the night begin to lift. “I love you too.”

And for the first time that evening, she finally felt safe.

[anon-vester]

Ivan could feel the constant squirming in his butt. He thought that Kysic was done trying to escape from his ass. It was punishment for always taking his stuff without permission.

48 hours ago.........

Ivan had found several things missing again from his room. He knew who had done it. His roommate Kysic had a nasty habit of borrowing his stuff without even asking. Sometimes, he would return them not the way he had taken them. It really pissed him off about that. He often told him not to take anything from his room unless he asked. Yet time and time again Kysic kept doing it over and over. He decided to put a stop to it and teach him a lesson in leaving his things alone.

As Kysic was in the living room watching tv, Ivan brought him an open soda can. "Here, you must be thirsty." He handed him the soda can.

"Thanks roomy, I thought you would be really upset over my nasty habit." Kysic spoke as he drunk the soda. It was so delicious that he guzzled down the whole thing in seconds. "That was tasty and refreshing." He added as he noticed Ivan smiling back at him. "What's with the smile?" He asked.

Ivan looked at him, "You will see. And I also am still upset over your nasty habit. But I decided to put you in a place to break that nasty habit of yours." He spoke as he waited.

Kysic didn't know what exactly he meant by that. Suddenly thought the whole room was spinning all around him. Everything grew in size, even the couch he was sitting on. He looked over at Ivan who was now like a giant to him. "What's happening?!" He exclaimed in a tiny voice as continued to shrink in size.

Ivan laughed this time. "Soon, you will be small enough to fit in my ass. It will be you prison for the next two days at least. This will teach you the value of personal space." He paused. "You will be my personal butt toy." He added.

Kysic soon found himself centimeters tall, and the world around him extremely huge. He saw Ivan lower his shorts and underwear. He realized that his roommate wasn't lying to him. He began to run, but was already too late. Ivan snatched him up and stuffed him in his butt crack towards his hole. He then stuff part of him into his hole for good measure. "Enjoy your new home for the next two days." He heard him say before closing his butt cheeks, leaving him in a total dark and sweaty prison.

The last 48 hours had been a place of torture for Kysic. There wasn't an ounce of light unless Ivan parted his butt cheeks. It was stuffy and sweaty. Him passing gas made his prison almost unbearable to be there. The worst of it was when Ivan workout. It made it extremely sweaty and slippery. He had to work hard not to get swallowed in his hole. At night, Ivan would fart in his sleep, causing him to pass out and wake up frequently in his hole. Ivan was careful to make sure he couldn't escape his ass when he showered. He would plug him in, keeping him from any means of escaping his prison.

Kysic felt like he learned his lesson. He would leave his roommate's things alone for now on. He hoped some squirming would help Ivan realize he wanted out and learned his lesson.

Ivan was enjoying how much Kysic was squirming in his hole. He really did make the perfect butt toy. He had initially planned just a 48 hour stay in his butt but decided to enjoy his tiny prisoner a little longer. He could tell him his plan, but it would be more fun for the little butt toy to found out on his own. That thought really amused him as he continued to work on his computer.

[kpop---scenarios]

Walk All Over Me

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x Reader

Warning: Smut ( Oral, f. receiving & m. receiving, unprotected sex, cream pie.) Angst, Mean reader [18+ ONLY. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.]

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: You and Mingyu are friends with benefits, he wants more but you don't. And even though you're using him, he can't help but fall more in love.

This story was based off this song; Stay For a While by Victor Ray.

“You wanna dance with me?” You whisper into Mingyu's ear, your hand slowly caressing his arm as you stand so close to him. He feels like he's going to faint having you be so close to him. He was so fucking in love with you, he thought he might be going crazy from how badly he wanted just kiss you right then and there. But you had been very clear with him from the beginning that you guys were strictly a secret occasional hook up, nothing more and nothing less.

He accepted it at the time because he figured having you in this way was so much better than not having you at all but as time went on, his feelings were becoming harder and harder to contain. Mingyu smiles slightly at you, shaking his head no. He didn't want to put you in a position where the two of you might be found out by the others, even though that was all he wanted.

“I love this song!” You squeal, moving away from Mingyu, instead grabbing Seungcheol's hand, dragging him to the dance floor as Mingyu stays behind watching as you grind yourself against his leader.

This is what he gets, for being so fucking in love with someone who wasn't ready to settle down.

“So, uh, are you and Y/N together? What's going on between the two of you?” The8 asks, standing next to Mingyu who leaned against the bar, watching you still dance with Seungcheol. Mingyu glances down at the floor before smiling over at The8 and taking a sip of his drink. He was the only one Mingyu had told about you and how you and he had taken things to the next level. He was happy for the two of you at first, but now it seemed to him as if Mingyu was more into you than you were him. He knew The8 worried about it but Mingyu was confident… sort of.

“It's… it's complicated.” He laughs. “We sort of are.”

“I dunno man, from where I'm standing, it doesn't look all that complicated to me. It looks like you're just friends…like the rest of us.” The8 shrugs, walking towards the dance floor. Mingyu watched as you caressed Wonwoo's arm, watching as Seungcheol's hands roamed your body, stopping at your hips, pulling you in closer.

“Mingyu.” Wonwoo says, nudging the spaced out man. “We're heading back to Woozi's, you coming?” He asks. Mingyu sets down his forgotten drink, following behind the group, his eyes never leaving you. Not even when you linked arms with Hoshi, or when your hand intertwined with DK's, or when Seungcheol jokingly squeezed your ass.

Fuck.

Sometimes your loud, easy-going and outgoing personality made it really fucking hard for him to watch you be so friendly with his friends. You didn't ask them to stop or not to do those things, you embraced the attention, you loved it and he could see it on your face. Whereas he just wanted to shout how in love with you he was from the rooftop. All night Mingyu watched you with the others. Laughing and drinking. Glancing at him, giving him a sly wink, being flirtatious from afar. The way he just wanted to rip your clothes off in front of everyone and fuck you while they watched was unhealthy, but fuck did he want you so fucking badly. He would do anything for you, be anything for you and you were very much aware of how he felt.

A while later, Mingyu wandered off to the bathroom, trying to contain himself and calm down. It was getting harder for him to see you flirting with others and he didn't know how much more he was going to be able to take. He walks out of the bathroom, his head down until he stops in his tracks, seeing a familiar pair of shoes in front of him. His eyes trail up, seeing you leaning against the wall, drunkenly looking at him.

“I was wondering where you disappeared too.” You smile, moving closer to him. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his head down to your level. “I don't think you know how much i fucking want you.” You whisper in his ear, nibbling on his earlobe. You move your hand to his chest, slowly running it down, over his abs, gently into caressing his dick.

“Y/N!” You hear from around the corner. “Come take a shot!”

You laugh, quickly pressing a kiss to Mingyu's lips before running off, laughing at the cheers of your return. Mingyu knew something needed to change between the two of you and if he wanted more he was going to have to be the one to bring it up. He heads back to the group, trying to insert himself in conversations and games, doing his best to try to not pay as much attention to you but it didn't last long. He had the worst fucking time trying to peel his eyes away from you, eventually he just gave up and went to bed in one of the spare bedrooms instead. He fell asleep rather quickly, the alcohol having made his head spin a little too much.

Hours later, he's woken up by a light rapid knocking at the door. He rubs his eyes, slipping out of bed, opening the door as his hand runs through his hair.

“Y/N?” He mumbles.

“I need you so bad, baby.” You moan, looking at him with puppy dog eyes. “Don't you need me too?” You whisper.

“Fuck.” He hisses, pulling you inside the room, slamming the door with your body. He pins you against the door, his lips quickly attaching to yours. His kiss is sloppy, so needy as he slides his tongue into your mouth. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer to you. You needed to feel him, all of him. Mingyu wastes no time, pulling away from you. He grabs your wrist, turning you and pushing you down onto the bed. The light from the moon shines into the room, giving the two of you limited lighting but it was just enough. He pushes your dress up, pulling your panties down from your body, throwing them anywhere. He pushes your legs open, diving right into your already wet cunt. You grab the sheets of the bed, moaning loudly as Mingyu licks your pussy, sucking on your clit, making your eyes roll back onto your head.

“Oh… Oh my fucking god.” You cry out, arching your back as you orgasm quickly approaches. “Don't… Fuck… please don't stop.” You whine, grabbing his hair, pulling him in closer. You grind yourself on his face, your orgasm exploding through your body. You scream out as you cum, your juices seeping from your pussy. Mingyu happily laps up everything, before sitting up, licking up all the juices from his face.

“You're so good at that.” You breathe, sitting up, smiling at the sexy man. You push him down onto the bed, pulling his sweats from his body, letting his already hard cock spring free. You lick your lips as you bend down, licking his cock from base all the way up to his tip. You take just his tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it, making him groan. You slowly take more and more of his cock into your mouth, until you can't take anymore. His tip hits the back of your throat, making you gag. Mingyu moans at the sound, grabbing the back of your head and thrusting up a few times before releasing your head, letting you up for air.

“Fuck baby, i love when you take all of my cock.” He groans. He sits up, pushing you down onto the bed on your hands and knees. He moves your dress up once again, exposing your bare ass. He gives you a few hard slaps before he lines himself up with you, pushing his cock inside of you.

“Oh shit.” You groan. You love the way his cock stretches your pussy. “My god.” You cry, as Mingyu pulls out, and slams back inside of you.

“You feel… so fucking good.” He groans, his fingertips digging into your hips as he speeds up his thrusts, ramming his cock inside of you over and over again.

He reaches under you, pulling down the front of your dress, letting your tits fall out of your dress, gently pinching and groping you nipples as he continues to fuck you. You moan loudly, moving your own hand between your legs. Your fingers touch your sensitive clit, making you groan as you rub it while Mingyu fucks you.

“Right there… Oh fuck… yes, fuck.” You cry out, your second orgasm building quickly.

“You take my cock so fucking well… like the dirty little slut you are.” Mingyu moans, fucking you harder and faster. “You wanna fuck everyone else too, don't you?” He groans.

“No baby.” You whimper. “Just you… ah, fuck…”

“Mhmm, that's right… just me.” He breathes, throwing his head back as he quickened his pace again, desperately chasing his own high.

“Cum for me… cum all over my cock, baby.” Mingyu moans, holding you tighter. You rub your clit a little faster, bringing you over the edge again. You cum hard, clenching your cunt around his cock.

“Good fucking girl.” He spits, grabbing your hair, yanking your head back. “That's right.” keeps his pace, his orgasm right there. He keeps going until he finally cums, spilling himself inside of you. He groans loudly as he slowly pumps in and out, making sure to give you everything he has.

He finally pulls out and you both collapse onto the bed. Your chests are heaving, you can't hear anything else but the two of you breathing, except for faint voices of those still awake in the living room.

Mingyu's stomach is in knots as he thinks about bringing up wanting more from you. He knows now probably isn't the best time but it was now or never in his mind. He turns his head to look at you, watching you lay there with your eyes closed, trying to settle down.

Mingyu quickly stands up, putting his clothes back on before he turns on the light. You squeeze your eyes closed harder, not wanting to be blinded yet.

“Y/N…” He breathes, looking down at you. You finally open your eyes, looking towards him smiling.

“Mingyu.” You giggle.

“I want…Fuck.” He breathes. You can see the nervousness plastered on his face. “I want… No, I need more. From you. From this. I want… Well, I want to be your boyfriend.” He breathes. “I'm so in love with you…” He trails off.

“Oh.” You sigh. Mingyu can see the rejection coming plastered all over your face. “You know I'm not looking for anything more than just this. We were just having fun.” You murmur, sitting up in the bed, standing up to find your underwear.

“I want to take you on a date. Just one date. Let me prove I'm the man you should be with.” He sighs. “Tomorrow night.”

“Mingyu… i -.” You pause. “I can't tomorrow. Um, The8 actually asked me on a date earlier tonight. And I said yes.” You whisper.

You didn't realize the depth of his feelings for you. While you liked Mingyu and you liked when the two of you fucked around, you weren't looking for anything else… With him.

“So you wont go on a date with me because you don't want anything serious but you'll go with The8?”

“Yes.” You whisper.

“Why?” He yells, standing up, facing you. “Why the fuck am I not good enough for you?” He yells.

“Woah, where the fuck is this coming from?” You yell back, stepping away from him. “You knew exactly what the fuck you were getting into when we started this.”

“Yeah I did and now I need more from you!” He yells.

“I… I can't give you more, Mingyu.” You whisper.

“Why not?” He asks. “Why can't I have more? Why can't I be your boyfriend? Why can't you just give me a chance? Please Y/N, just one fucking chance!” He says.

He's about to talk again but you cut him off, you're over this conversation already.

“Because you'd make a shitty fucking boyfriend, Mingyu. Your pretty face and amazing dick game can only get you so fucking far in life. And this begging me is a complete turn off. Your person is out there but it sure as fuck isn't me.” You snap, grabbing your panties and storming out of the room, leaving Mingyu standing there feeling even more in love with you than he was before.

[starkeyslibrary]

FALLING OUT OF FRAME | Part 4

pairing: you x drew starkey

authors note: first off, I want to apologize for the delay in getting Part 4 to you. the flu hit me hard, and while I’m feeling better now, I’m still not 100%. Today’s been one of the better days, so I’m happy to finally share this with you! also, for all the new readers joining this series (welcome!), a quick note about the taglist: If you’d like to be added, please send me a message instead of commenting under posts. my notifications can get a little wild sometimes, and I don’t want to miss anyone’s request. Enjoy!

It had been a couple of days since the paparazzi had caught you. The pictures of you crying alone in the street made their rounds through the tabloids. Headlines blared across every news outlet: “Y/N Heartbroken: Tears on the Streets After Split with Drew Starkey”. You couldn’t escape them – everywhere you went, there were reminders of how vulnerable you had been, how much you were hurting. You had tried to fight it, tried to keep up a front. But the pictures, the emotional rawness, had taken a toll.

Your phone buzzed incessantly with notifications, and Drew’s name popped up more than you cared to count. The text messages, the calls, the voicemails – he was reaching out, desperate to fix what he had broken. You could feel the weight of his messages pressing down on you, each one pulling at the strings of your broken heart.

Drew’s text:

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. Please let me see you.”

“I didn’t mean this to happen. I miss you so much.”

“Can we please talk? I hate seeing you like this.”

You stared at the screen, your fingers hovering over the keys, but you couldn't bring yourself to reply. Every time you thought about responding, all you could see was that night – his absence, his lies, the way he had been with Odessa, and the emotional toll it was taking on you. The tears had fallen freely and now, in the cold light of day, they felt like a public spectacle. And that hurt.

Your friends were your saving grace during this time. Madelyn had taken you in the moment she found out about the photos. You spent long nights at her apartment, binge-watching shows and talking about everything and nothing. It was a distraction you needed, but even then, your thoughts kept circling back to Drew.

Madelyn was a good friend, she knew how to give space when you needed it but also to push you when you were being too hard on yourself. “Y/N, you can’t keep torturing yourself like this,” she told you one evening, as you both sat together on her couch, a glass of wine in hand. “I know it’s hard, but you have to stop looking at those pictures and thinking that’s all there is to your story. You deserve so much more than to be defined by what happened with Drew.”

“I know,” you sighed, resting your head against the back of the couch. “But it’s hard, Madelyn. It’s not just about the photos or the press. It’s everything. I thought we were more than that. I thought… I thought it was real.”

Madelyn’s expression softened, and she leaned in, taking your hand. “I know you did. And I think, deep down, Drew did too. But right now, you need to figure out what you want. Not what he wants. Not what the press wants. You need to decide what’s best for you.”

But even as your friends gave their support, you couldn’t escape the pull of Drew’s attempts to contact you. His phone calls became a constant. Every time your phone buzzed, your stomach twisted in knots. You hated that he was the one making you feel like this, that he still had the ability to drag you back into his world with just a message.

Finally, on one particularly sleepless night, the phone rang again. Drew’s name flashed across the screen.

You didn’t answer it.

Minutes later, another text from him:

“Please I can’t stand this. I’ve seen the pictures. I know you’re hurt. But I need you to know, I never wanted to hurt you. Us. I’m sorry for everything. Can we please meet and talk? I love you please don’t forget that.”

You stared at the message, feeling that familiar ache in your chest. Part of you wanted to believe him, wanted to give him the chance to fix this, to explain himself. But another part of you – the stronger, more resilient part – was terrified of falling for the same lies, the same empty promises.

You knew what you had to do. You couldn’t keep letting him pull you back into this mess.

__

The next day, you went to work, keeping your head down, avoiding any attention. But it was impossible to escape the ever-present eyes of the public. Every glance at your phone, every time you stepped outside, you could feel the weight of the scrutiny. The paparazzi had followed you more than once, snapping pictures of you walking alone, trying to find solace in your routine.

But no matter where you went, there was always someone watching. Always someone commenting. The paparazzi caught it all – the lonely moments and the sadness in your eyes. It felt like you were trapped in a never ending cycle of being seen,  but not truly known.

It wasn’t long before Madelyn called you again. Her voice was gentle, but you could hear the concern behind it. “Y/N, Drew wants to meet. He’s asking if you can at least hear him out. He says he’s messed up. He is not asking for forgiveness, just a chance to explain.”

You stood by the window, staring out at the city, the weight of her words sinking in. You had to make a choice. You couldn’t keep going back and forth between holding on and letting go.

But could you trust him again?

The uncertainty gnawed at you, and all you could do was take a deep breath and say “Tell him… I’m not ready. Not yet.”

Madelyn didn’t argue. She knew this was something you had to figure out on your own.

You spent the next few days doing everything you could to put distance between yourself and the mess that had become your relationship with Drew. You kept working, you spent time with friends, and you tried – really tried not to think about him. But you couldn’t escape the feeling that something was missing, that your world felt incomplete without him in it.

But then you realized: You had to be okay without him first. You couldn’t keep trying to piece yourself together with someone who had already shown they weren’t ready to treat you the way you deserved.

And so, you decided that you needed to move on. You deserved better than being stuck in a limbo. You deserved love that was real, not based on a public imagine, not tainted by lies and half-truths.

This was your time to find yourself again. And maybe, just maybe, Drew wasn’t a part of that future.

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