#starting to think he might be onto something

[hitomisuzuya]

Aventurine x fem! reader. Soft smut. Riding. Praise. Creampie.

Spoiling Aventurine. Because he deserves it. So SO much❤️

You barely even saw the the papers scattered around on Aventurine's bed. You were admiring him instead, your chin cupped in your hand and your elbow on your knee as you watched him finish up some last minute preparations for a job.

He is beautiful, intelligent, and flashy. Kind, smart, very cunning, and perceptive. Brilliant. He shined so bright that sometimes it hurt to look at him. Your body moved on it's own before telling it to do so. He looked up at you in question as you got up, and gently plucked his pen out from between his elegant, ringed fingers.

Without a word, your lips are on his. It was a soft kiss at first, deepening quickly as the all the passionate feelings and attraction you felt for him welled up inside of your heart all at once. So much so that it felt like your heart might burst.

Aventurine fast got lost in how soft and warm your lips felt against his. How genuine your kisses always feel. He moaned softly as your tongue asked for entrance into his mouth, putting one hand on your cheek, the other on your hip to guide you back onto the bed.

His tongue slowly curled and glided around yours as clothes were discarded and tossed on top of scattered paperwork. The heated urgency of your kiss alone was making his cock harden.

"Sweetheart, not that I am complaining," He said shakily as you straddled him. "What do I owe the pleasure?" He put a hand on your cheek as you moved your lips to hover over his.

"I have something that I need to tell you," You said, rolling your hips down on his cock so that it rested between your wet folds. Looping your arms around his neck, you rested your forehead against his, slowly grinding your pussy on his pulsing cock.

"I am almost finished with work," It sounded like a stupid him for him to say, however, the feeling of your pussy soaking against his cock was making it hard to even think. His hand found your hip, helping you grind on his cock.

"No," You said, letting out a soft moan as his cock grazed and rubbed against your clit. "It couldn't wait, I need to tell you now," You kissed him again, your body instinctively conveying your lust and passion for him as you grinded and pressed your body up against his.

Your soft whimpers of pleasure into his mouth as his fingers rubbed your clit made him shiver. Aventurine loves those particular whimpers because it always conveyed how much you need his cock inside of you.

That you want him with every fiber of your being.

He had to give you, his precious secretary, what you wanted. Your need was liable to build up so much that your little body wouldn't be able to handle it. You beat him to the punch, however.

No sooner had both his hands found your hips to guide your dripping entrance to hover over his cock, you were already urging t towards your entrance. "You deserve the world, Aventurine," You ran your hands through his hair, slowly lowering yourself down on his cock.

His cheeks flushed hearing the loud moan that escaped him as your tight warmth enveloped his cock. The way your pussy always stretched, tight and perfect to accommodate him always sent him reeling. His cock pulsed feeling you tense your thigh muscles to add more friction as you started to bounce on his cock.

You look so breathtaking to him, your lips parted as soft moans of pleasure that rose in octave. Your breasts bouncing as you rode his cock, your back arching as his fingers on your clit sent strong jolts of pleasure through your body. "You deserve it all. Me, my body, comfort, love, passion," You kissed him in between your words, running your fingers through his soft hair.

"Go on," Aventurine's moans were a little pitched. Your words coupled with your wet pussy squelching on his cock was almost too much for him to bear. "Please go on," His finger tips pressed into your hip, like if he didn't grasp onto you somehow you would fade away like something too good to be true.

"It's the world that doesn't deserve you," You continued, taking great care in making sure his cock pumped as deep inside of you as it could go. Aventurine's hand tightened on your hip as something gave way within him.

His hand tightened on your hip, his fingers increasing in an urgent pace over your throbbing clit. He relished in the extra twitches of pleasure that jolted through your body. You are pouring such love and passion on him that he had to return your gracious passion.

Like he always did.

Aventurine's fingers reluctantly left your clit, his mouth swallowing your moan of protest as you urged his cockhead to kiss your sweet spot. He guided your pace on his cock, compelled to make you fall apart in the same way you were making him fall.

"Let me do the work now," He said, kissing you as gently laid you on the bed without pulling out of you. You gasped in pleasure as he thrust slow and firm inside of you, your hips jerking up into his. His cock kissing into your spongy spot making you see stars.

The sounds of your moans mingled with his as he fucked into you, heated passion burning in every thrust. Words normally would've failed you, lost behind the pleasure of his cock stretching you apart, fucking into you slow and thoroughly.

However, you had one more thing to say to him. "I love you, I love you so much," Your hips rocked up into his, urging him to let go and enjoy himself. Aventurine let out a sob of pleasure, his head dropping into your neck.

He cried out, nuzzling your neck as cum ribboned inside of you. "Say it again, please," He held you still as he chased his high, his body trembling with need to feel you cum as hard as he did.

"I love you so much. With my whole heart," The knot of your orgasm broke apart, making a wanton moan sound from him feeling your pussy tighten as your cum flooded onto his cock. You always doted on him, even with your pussy. Your cum providing him ample lubrication to fuck his cum up inside of you.

[typing-catastrophe]

I have been so cooked for this man lately that I need to talk about him— I genuinely think that with a ADHD/autism/AuDHD partner Ford takes notes on your stims and quirks, even before any serious relationship. Just little things like “waves hands when excited :)” and “prefers baggy sweaters” just like a little way of understanding you better 🥺💖

yesss definitely! as an AuDHDer who stims a lot myself, this is everything!! jfskhfshsk

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"Aaaahhhhh oh myy-" the rest of what you were saying was incomprehensible because the words slurred together in an excited squeal. A gleeful expression upon your face, you waved and shook your hands in front of your body, then pressed them over your mouth, to stifle another squeal.

Ford smiled to himself as he watched you from the other side of the room, where he propped his notebook open to scribble something down.

"Heeyyyyy Grunkle Ford, watcha got there?" Mabel's voice rang out right beside him.

He snapped the book shut and whipped his head around.

"Mabel!"

"Waves hands when excited." she cited what she had just read, "Were you talking about-"

"No, I was certainly not!" Ford said, while his cheeks started to turn a deep red colour.

"Are you suuuure? Because to me it looks like you diiiid." she said, a cheeky grin on her face and dragging some of the vowels.

"You are mistaken, dear child. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got work to do." he excused himself and stood up, holding the notebook close to him.

Without letting her get another word in, he moved past her and made his way into his study.

There, he propped open the notebook to the page he'd just added a new note onto.

- likes to hum when no one is around - seems to prefer more loose fitting clothes. possibly because the don't restrict movement as much - will unconsciously play and fidget with any jewellery they're wearing - sorts and eats their food in a particular order - would rather not eat at all than something not appealing - skin irritating clothing causes great discomfort. remove tags!! - wants to talk but holds back. encouraging them has positive effect - avoids eye contact but will look at faces when the person isn't looking at them - do not touch without warning and do not force contact! expressed great discomfort to me after being forced to physical contact by someone else - repeating phrases and noises (quite endearing) - easily startled by sudden and loud noises, as well as irritated by high pitched ones, almost too quite to hear - shows behaviours similar to felines. has stated that they would be delighted to posses the ability to purr (he would be delighted too)

Ford smiled as he looked up and leaned back. He really hoped Mabel hadn't seen too much, otherwise she might figure out how interested in you he really was. And we wasn't sure if he was ready for that.

For now he would be very much content continuing to dreamily gaze over at you and notice all the little things, so he could understand you better.

Maybe one day he could work up the courage to ask you out.

-------------------------------------------------- thank you for reading <3 reblogs are appreciated

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Can I get yandere toby, jeff and ej separately coming home and seeing their s/o hurt? They got hurt bc of someone else or they had an accident it's up to you!

I do think it's a lil amusing to me that the three creeps you chose are the three in my Yan AU that intentionally hurt their Darlings the most :p

CW for direct mentions of previous physical abuse from the boys.

Toby:

You're surprised, really, at how upset he is that you got hurt. The same man who has broken your ankles more times than you can count, who takes intimate pleasure in biting you, forcing you to bleed and scream from the force of his teeth, the man who thrives on bringing you pain because, at the very least, if you're in pain it means you're feeling something because of him, even if it's not love. Despite that, he stands before you, choked up on sobs as you stare at him in confusion, your hand on your head where blood seeps freely. You'd fallen, as it's hard to navigate on damaged ankles, and slammed your head onto the corner of the counter. You luckily didn't suffer a concussion, and were just unable to get to the bathroom to clean up, before Toby stumbled in and started screaming and sobbing, falling to his knees in front of you with his hands constantly wiping his tears. He pulls you into his arms with a gentleness you're not used to, and lifts you, carrying you to the bathroom. He never stops crying, not when he's cleaning the wound, not when he's bandaging you, not when he's locking you back inside the very room he'd just finally permitted you some freedom from. He yells at you it's for your protection, that he can't allow you to get hurt anymore, that he could have lost you. It's hard to take him seriously with the dramatics of his tears and his history of pain, but the sight of you being harmed by something natural, something unintentional, is one of the scariest things he can feel. He'll just have to keep you chained up again, that way he knows you'll be kept completely safe for him, so he can take even better care of you. He cuddles you close to his chest as you lay there, staring off into space, peace, and serenity finding him as you are overwhelmed by the fear that one day, if you fall again, he might get the idea to permanently take away your ability to walk, so it can never happen again.

Jeff:

For once, Jeff doesn't know what to feel. He's always feeling something around you, whether it be from his anger issues, his obsessive "love" for you, or his desire to claim you and make you only his, but as he stands before you, taking deep breaths, staring down at you where you sit before him, new bruises all over one side of your body. Bruises he doesn't recall leaving, as he always remembers the ones he gives you, bruises that are clearly fresh. You can't even look at him, terrified of him either screaming at you and giving you a few more of those bruises, or waiting for him to just simply leave you there and walk away, but he doesn't. He just stands, his twisted mind unsure of what conclusion to come to. He eventually asks you, in a gruffly choked up voice, what the hell happened. Your body is always so weak, so tired in this home, and you'd slipped going down the stairs, your body slamming into it and leaving a trail of bruises from your face to your legs. They were raw and sore, and he could tell that from just looking at them. His eyebrows quirked in pity instead of rage, and you swallowed to yourself, willing to barter if you could take advantage of that, and so you weakly held up your arms with less energy than you actually have, and begged him to hold you, to comfort you. Tugging at his heartstrings, pressing the button in his mind that softened him, could often work in your favor in this hell you live in, and today it worked. He picked you up gently, laying on the couch and holding you close, pressing kisses to your face as he apologized, and promised to take care of you. You didn't know how long this would last until the next bruises that would come from him would end up on your body, so you planned to take advantage of this while it lasted, curling up on top of him and finally getting some sleep. He holds you gently, affectionately nuzzling into you, content in his delusion that you must finally be falling for and trusting in him.

EJ:

The second he enters the house where he keeps you, the first thing he notices is the overwhelming smell of blood, blood he's quite familiar with tasting, and should be the only one causing. He tracks you down easily in the house, finding you huddled in one of the bathrooms as you attempt to clean yourself up. The second you hear him coming, the scent of blood becomes mingled with the smell of fear, fear from you that he's going to be angry, that he's going to be extremely upset with you. Contrary to that belief, he bends down and gently grasps your hand that's still bleeding, where you were attempting fast and shoddy work at bandaging it. Your hand trembles in his grasp and he sighs, only asking you what happened, and he warns that you should tell the truth, and so you do. You were simply trying to put up the dishes, and you'd dropped a glass plate, shattering it and cutting your hand quite badly on it trying to clean up. He sighs again, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head, and he tells you to be more careful next time and use a broom instead of your hands. He's eerily calm, usually getting more fired up when you hurt yourself, but as he disinfects and bandages your cuts (in the same methodical way he does after causing bites and cuts to you himself) he's completely quiet. He just doesn't want you to know his calmness is because he's so panicked on the inside, scared that you had been so injured he might have lost you. One might find that sentiment romantic, but it's not as romantic when someone is just scared they've lost their dinner. His dinner and his eternal prisoner to what he claims is his "affection" and "love", the twisted, painful affection he forces on you by biting into your flesh, by devouring your body and soul with every day you were made to spend trapped in here with him. You barely noticed when he lifted you into his arms, carrying you to bed and tucking you in, your mind wondering just what it was that made you deserve this eternal hell.

[kayhi808]

Idk if I sent this already so please feel free to ignore buuuuuutttttt…..

For first crush:

Abby’s daycare hosts all these different events and one of them happens to be a daddy/daughter dance 🥺🥺🥺…. Guess who she wants to invite? She makes the invitation special by drawing Bucky a letter and maybe having her mama make cookies or something. When Abby’s going to ask Bucky she’s nervous!!!!!

Thank you @crazyunsexycool for such a sweet ask! This will actually tie in perfectly with an ask from @ozwriterchick

Bucky just returned from a 3 week mission. It's the longest you've been apart since you started dating 8 months ago. Bucky made an effort to call and check-in when he could. He returned today, and wanted to pick up Abby with you. "She's going to be so excited!"

Bucky pulls you in for a kiss & gives you a smile. He's just as excited to see Abby, too.

As you walk up to the playground, Abby's teacher waves at you and goes to gather Abby's backpack. "Look who's here, Abby."

"Mama?" She puts her toys away and runs to the pick-up gate. She notices you aren't alone, 'Bucky!!" She screams and runs to Bucky, only to have him scoop her up and throw her up in the air and catching her in a hug. She giggles so hard. "You're home!"

Making your way back to the apartment, Bucky gives her a shoulder ride home. "How's my favorite girl?"

"I's good!"

"Listening to your Mama?"

"Mmmhmmm," she looks at you, "I's good girl, right? I no tricks you at all."

You laugh, "Yes, she:s been very good." Abby blooms under your praise and does her happy wiggle.

******

After dinner, Abby is noticably antsy. "Cans I be done?"

"May I be excused?"

Giggles, "Yea, can I be 'scuse?"

"Yes you may." Abby gives Bucky a side-eye look and runs to her bedroom.'

He brings your hand up to his lips, "What is she up to?" You shrug as Abby runs back out with a sheet of paper.

"Um...Bucky? I's draw you...um a letter." She hops up an down by his side.

"Did you?" He lifts her onto his lap as she puts the paper down in front of them. "What have we got here?"

You quickly scan her drawing and you know where this is going. "Baby, Bucky just got home. I didn't get a chance to discuss this with him. Maybe we can do this in the morning." You give Bucky a worried glance.

You both can see her wringing her fingers together in her lap, "Discuss what?" Bucky unclenches her little fists in his hands, holding them gently.

Abby leans forward, "My scoon, has um..a big party." She traces the balloons in her drawing. "My Daddy went to heaven, so um..." She traces the stick figure of Bucky with his black and gold arm. "I don't has a dates."

Bucky's fingers goes to the smaller stick figure in a rainbow triangle skirt & a crown. "Oh, wow!" Bucky is speechless.

"Abby? Baby?"

"But I want Buckys as my date, Mama." Turning in Bucky's lap, "I hads an Uncle now," she shrugs her little shoulders and plays with the collar of Bucky's shirt. "But I wants you!" She squeezes Bucky's face between the palms of her hands and giggles.

"Honey, I think Bucky needs to check his schedule. He might have a mission and not be in town." You offer Bucky and 'out' if he needs it.

Silently shaking his head, "I can be there." Abby gasps and squeals, throwing her arms around his neck.

Cautiously, "Buck."

He gives you a proud smile, "Your Mama can give me the date and time and I'll be honored to take my Cinderella to her ball."

"Oh, tank you, Bucky! I loves you so much!" Giving him a loud kiss on the cheek.

Of course she loves him.

@waywardhunter95 @wintrsoldrluvr @rebeccapineapple @ordelixx @onceithough @thezombieprostitute @ilovetaquitosmmmm @julvrs @unaxv @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @winterslove1917 @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @mrsnikstan @hisredheadedgoddess28 @itsteambarnes @otterlycanadian @purplecolordeer @samsgirl93 @buckitostan @blackbirdwitch22 @littleredwolff @mcucatlady @silas-aeiou @hzdhrtss @florie1 @thecubanator2 @enchantedbarnes @selella @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @cjand10 @pancake-05

[chiscaralight]

Can u do mean dom xiao x reader? Any gender is fine. I always see him as a soft dom there hasn’t been a mean dom xiao post since like 2021 😩

nsfw xiao x reader idk if i can write mean dom anyone, I tried my best... don't hate me anons

Regardless of the situation, xiao doesn't talk too much. Because of that, you tend to act out a lot. he's not going to say anything anyway, so why not tease him just a bit?

bad idea on your part, because he'll always get back at you. he might tease you back in the privacy of your own, or he just might deny your orgasm for so long that you can't even remember your own name. even if you whine out how sorry you are from the moment you step into the bedroom, he’s not shaken.

“maybe you should’ve thought of that before you started playing in my face. don’t stop until i tell you to.”

and honestly, you want to do this. to prove to him that he doesn't have as much power over you as he thinks. so you sink down onto his length, fingers holding tight onto his shoulders as you start to bounce. it’s not long before you start crying though, legs shaking and so out of breath as you use the last of your power to tell him you cant go on anymore.

so he rolls his eyes, mumbling something about how weak you are. it hasn’t even been that long! he’d think you’d do better than that. whatever, anyways, because his hand is heavy as he pushes your face into the bed, fingers digging into the fat of your hips as he starts to pound into you stupidly hard. you’re gasping and whining at each thrust, every hit having you feeling more sensitive than the last. and your mumbles start to get more drawn out, proclamations of your impending orgasm spilling into the sheets of the bed. he’s fistinf your hair to pull your head up, and the only words that leave him are breaking your heart.

“don’t you dare.”

and you’re whining in protest, overstimulated and in dire need of release. you don’t even know when you come! vision blacking out and body twitching as his hips still. you realize your mistake though when you find yourself on tour back, his strong gaze connecting with your full of fear one as he pins your wrists down to the bed. all he gave you was one instruction, and you can’t even obey that. you want to cum so bad? he’ll make sure you do, as many times as he wants. you won’t even remember his name by the time he’s done with you.

[noobsoconfusing]

‘fill the void’_ hamzahthefantastic

summary: hamzah has been busy with the channel and misses you so much, so when you finally have time together, you kinda make it up to him.

warning: sub!hamzah, guided masturbation, lowkey cum eating, kinda gross, fluff and praise.

>_<

hamzah’s right leg bounces up and down in a desperate manner, erratic and anxious.

brown eyes shaky and glossy as he anticipates your company, your mere existence next to his. he bites his lip hard enough to wince but not that hard to draw blood.

as the elevator is taking way too long for his liking, he rolls his eyes and practically sprints up the stairs.

bad idea, oh god. –he thinks to himself, slowing down his pace as he gets to the third floor. two more floors to reach your shared flat.

the anticipation grows inside his belly, excitement even, to finally see you after such a long day. fuck, he misses you. badly. so badly.

as he fumbles with the keys, a groan escapes his lips when his hands start shaking. open, open, please just open. he mentally begs.

fucking finally, the door opens and hamzah shuts it closed as he enters, looking for you desperately, like a lost puppy looking for its owner.

“y/n! i am home!” he announces.

red and blue quickly make their way out of their shared bed, snuggling up onto hamzah’s legs, showing how much they missed their cat dad. no response from you, whatsoever.

“hey little guys, where’s mom, huh?” knowing he wont get an answer back, hamzah pets his cats and continues looking for you.

as he gets into your shared room, he sighs in relief. there you are.

though you can’t see him, as you quickly type something on the keyboard, sitting on the desk that faces the wall. you’re wearing his headphones, and he then thinks you might be doing college work or just being functional.

he sneaks behind you, and pauses for a moment. waiting to see if you can feel his presence. but as you’re too carried away by whatever the fuck you’re doing, you don’t.

“woah!” you whine when hamzah snatches the headphones off your head. quickly, you turn around on the chair to face your boyfriend. a big smile forms on your face. “hello!” you say.

hamzah pouts, “thought you weren’t home.” he says, pulling your body effortlessly off the chair so you can stand in front of him. “i missed you so fuckin’ much you have no idea.” he admitted

“hey, i missed you too.” you murmur as his body melts with yours in a tight hug.

you can feel how he inhales your scent, his hands slide to your waist too, gripping so hard you think it might bruise. he groans into the hug, a desperate sound erupting from his throat. and then you know whats up.

“you okay, love?” you ask, trying to pull away to face him but he grips tighter, audibly protesting for you to just stay there with him.

“need you. that’s all.” his voice sounds soft, still low and deep per usual. but you get to hear the smallness of his words, the warm sound of need.

“it’s fine, need you too…” you quietly admit, not breaking the hug still.

and the scene is just weird. how you two stand in the middle of the room, embracing each other and balancing as you try not to lose yourself and fall on the floor from how hard he hugs you

“bed, please?” he asks after a moment.

you nod. “yeah, bed.”

for the first time, he breaks the hug but only to quickly get rid of his shoes, he takes off the beanie he was wearing and pulls your hand so you can lay on the bed with him.

“you’re very warm, you feel good?” you ask, a tone of worry sliding out of your question.

his cheeks are flushed and eyes teary, he looks so stupidly good though, something about his needy image invites you, attracts you even more.

“i feel good now that i’m with you.” hamzah holds your hand in his, bringing it up to his face and just keeping it there.

“love you so much, yeah?” you say, caressing his features and letting him lean into your touch.

cozy. very cozy.

“get closer, please.” he pleaded, and when you didn’t move as fast as he would’ve liked, he took matters into his own hands. his hands gripped your hips, pulling them towards his own body, the space between you both nonexistent.

he kissed your neck desperately, hungrily, almost like he was starving.

“so fuckin’ pretty, ma.” he breathed out, a whine catching up inside your throat. that pet name always made you fuzzy inside.

“are you sure you’re okay, hamzah?” you were worried by how he was behaving. not worried in a bad manner, but surprised.

it seemed that now, the words had vanished from his brain, he acted completely out of impulse.

“mmhm, yeah.” he shifted on the bed, placing his leg over yours. “just… really fuckin’ need you right now… always do.” he kissed your shoulder and you shivered at the feeling of his lips on your body.

each time felt like the first time.

“tell me, hamzah.” your voice came out like a whisper, but it was fine.

his eyes opened and stared at you, the vague lighting of the room felt almost painful as it hit his sight.

“what?” big hazy eyes penetrating your figure, he almost wanted to swallow your image, engrave it onto his brain.

you gulped. closeness feeling way too intense now. you liked it.

“tell me what you need me to do.” he groaned at your words, licking his lips almost instinctively.

he was nervous all of sudden.

“i- i don’t know.” hamzah felt so small, so braindead.

every single time he was with you, he felt as if some switch inside his brain turned off, leaving you all the thinking work.

“i think you do know, yeah.” your hand traveled to his cheek, all the way down to his neck, and you let it rest there.

you felt him swallow, his adam’s apple bobbed up and down.

“can you- uh, …please?” so fucked, that’s how he felt. you had barely done anything more than just exist, and yet he was fucked. how pathetic.

“hey, hey, words.” you tighten the grip on his neck, not enough to choke, just enough to feel his blood flowing through the veins.

he whined just so beautifully.

“y/n… p-please…” his lower lip trembled and you knew what he wanted. still, you waited for him to tell you. “can i kiss you?” please please say yes.

a smile appeared on your face and you nodded slowly. so tempting.

“sure.” finally, you thought.

he wasted no time, cupping your face with his big hands, and getting to taste your lips after what felt like ages.

oh how soft, how delicate. he melted right then and there, some part of his mind became mush, and all he could do was keep kissing you, it was messy, so desperate.

however, you started feeling needy too. a feeling so complex to understand. a feeling only hamzah could fill.

like an emptiness inside that you knew only he could fill up.

hamzah’s tongue pressed between your lips and you parted them, allowing him in. you couldn’t help but giggle at the feeling, at how he was practically desperately grinding his hips onto you without shame.

this man, you swore, couldn’t kiss you without getting his dick hard, and that was just the effect you had on him.

“oww, f-fuck, ‘s good” he breathed out, a whine almost. “you’re so pretty, i could eat you.” he said, his hands moved up and down your torso, feeling you up in such a hungry manner.

“damn…” you said quite surprised at his words.

as you were starting to feel not enough contact, you shifted on the bed, breaking the kiss for a moment, hamzah’s eyes stared at you worried, afraid he might’ve done something you didn’t like.

“wha-?”

“hold on, don’t be desperate.” you giggled, kindly pushing hamzah back on the pillows and straddling him.

“can’t help it, sorry…”

he groaned when you sat on his lap, your body perfectly pressing his.

“love you so much, y’know that? love every single thing about you, pretty boy.” your hands found support on his shoulders, he enjoyed this position so much, he got to see your face and at the same time found a nice good friction.

“god i love you, i love you, love you so m-much.” his hands gripped your hips once again, and he thrusted up to feel you. the hardness inside his sweats was painful, and only you could help him out with it. he closed his eyes when you grinded down too, your core pressing with him oh so perfectly.

“open.” you said, soft voice made him melt.

hamzah opened his mouth, eyes closed still, his cheeks so red and tongue wetting his lower lip.

you shook your head with a smile, letting an airy laugh slip past your lips. god he was so fucking cute like this.

“your eyes, silly, i meant open your eyes.”

“oh…” he giggled nervously, a new side of him you didn’t quite know about he had just showed. “sorry, baby…” he pulled up to kiss your lips once again, a peck this time.

“it’s okay, you’re pretty.”

fuck, hamzah could dry hump you for eternity. his hips were kinda tired, he wanted you to do the work for him, however, he couldn’t let you, he didn’t wanna be a bother. though, he wasn’t.

“wanna make you cum..” you said breaking the comfortable silence. not very much of a silence, since his moans would constantly be adorning the space surrounding you.

“j-just… do it- please, please i’ll do anything, i promise…” hamzah pleaded once again. it was weird. so cute though, you loved when he did that. that thing with his eyes, the lust, the love.

his hips began to stutter, was he close from just humping?

“gonna take these off, okay?” you said, asking for an already given permission.

he nodded so fucking fast you thought his head was gonna fall off his neck.

hamzah admired your actions, how you got off his lap to pull his sweats off, and he just let you do it. he felt like putty, like something maleable for you to play with. he liked feeling that way.

“pretty. very pretty.” you praised his bulge, taking your time to take his briefs off. almost like you wanted to tease him.

“s-stop…” he felt nervous. even if you had seen him plenty of times, still got nervous when you praised him.

“want me to stop?” you asked, attentively. your eyes scanned his figure, looking for any discomfort. you found any.

“no! no! please j-just keep going!” you took that as a cue to start. “fuck!” a high pitched moan left his soul.

his eyes rolled back when your flat hand placed over his clothed boner, and an idea popped into your head.

“do it yourself.” you bluntly said.

his eyes opened wide, looking worried and confused. he opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out.

“i want you to do it, hamzah. please yourself, come on.” you explained better.

“b-but…”

“shh, i know you can do it, yeah? you’re such a good boy, aren’t you? so pretty for me, so sweet, so obedient… c’mon.”

he groaned again, his cock twitching inside his briefs as you praised him once again. he nodded slowly, feeling dizzy all of sudden.

shaky hands took over, hamzah slipped his dick out of his underwear and shakily touched the leaking tip. fuck, he felt so stupid, almost like all his self-pleasing knowledge had been forgotten all of sudden.

“mmhmm, shit..” he cursed under his breath when it twitched again, leaking this ridiculous amount of precum just at the thought of you watching him jerk off.

he could feel your sight on him, so expectant.

“go ahead, love.” you encouraged him, sitting closer to him, your hand on his thigh. he shivered at the touch.

“o-okay, gonna start now..” he felt as if he needed your permission, which you had given him already.

his hand wrapped around his shaft, it felt slippery and wet from all the stimulation that kissing and humping you had given him. he moaned, satisfied. his thumb circled around the head, sliding easily, and then, when his hand tightened, he stroked all the way down.

“oh god, god, oh f-fuck, y/n?” it felt so surreal. he had jerked off infinite times before this, why was he so fucking sensitive now?

your hand caressed his thigh. “yeah?”

“n-nothing.”

“keep going, you’re doing very good.” you moved closer to kiss his temple, lovingly and gently.

hamzah stroked up, and then down again. he was going at a very steady pace, trying his best not to cum quickly, since he wanted you to know how much he could handle.

not much.

“gonna tell me what has you so needy?” you asked all of sudden. and then, hamzah thought it was rather interesting to have a conversation while he was pounding it.

“uh…i- i think it’s just w-work,” he managed to reply. “been away all week..” he added after a groan, slowing down his movements.

“don’t stop.” you warned, moving your hand to engulf his own, as you helped him jerk off, steadying his shaky moves. “missed me, huh?”

“fuck yeah, a lot.” mhmm. “missed y-your voice a-and you… and your touch and, and this…” his eyebrows knitted together, he opened his mouth to moan but it was silent when you made his hand stop. “p-please, keep going…” he begged.

“you do it, love.” you said, letting his own hand move and the other hand gripped the sheets so hard you thought he was gonna rip them apart.

the wet sounds of hamzah’s skin, the lewd sounds of his hand sliding up and down his dick filled the room. it made you unbelievably worked up seeing him so desperate. it was very pretty.

he was starting to jerk off quicker, the speed alarming you. short moans came out of his throat, curses too.

“ah, ah, ah- shit! wanna cum… gonna-, c-can i?” his movements erratic and inconsistent, the glistening clear fluid coating his hand entirely from how messy he had been.

he had been so good, waiting all week for you. even if he was away filming and you were busy with college. he had been patient and waited until you both could get intimate. so good.

“cum, hamzah, be good for me, okay?” you squeezed his thigh again, giving him reassurance.

he moaned loudly, his breathing stopped, it caught up on his throat.

“wanna fill you up, god, wanna fill you up so bad, s-so bad..” he rambled slurring his words.

inside his mind, the image of him filling you up with his warm cum. it always helped him reach a decent, more than good orgasm.

your thighs pressed together and your eyes widen at his words. you bit your lower lip, anticipating his release. a small, needy whine escaped from your lips.

hamzah’s free hand looked blindly for yours, awaiting to hold onto something while he let himself go. you linked your hands and he then, only felt like he could cum.

“o-oh fuck! y/n, y/n!” there we go, his low voice carried out a cry, so pathetic. he kept stroking, wanting to let out all the built up cum he had been accumulating all damn week. “owww…” he sobbed.

hamzah’s shaky hands let go of his shaft and he opened his eyes slowly. he looked down at the mess he had made. a puddle of cum settled on his tummy, part of the sheets and his hands.

you giggled, snapping him out of his trance. hamzah looked at you with droopy eyes, tired and sleepy. he smiled lazily. silently thanking you for everything you did for him.

“y/n, i love you.” he said after a while of just trying to catch his breath.

you took his hand, the one that had cum all over, and held it up. he looked at you anticipating, those big brown eyes staring directly at your soul.

then, you did it. you licked his fingers, tasting him in your mouth. his eyes widened, the sight of you practically eating his cum made him warm all over. the knot inside his tummy started to tighten once again.

“oww… you’re gross.” he playfully said scrunching up his nose. blatantly lying. he found it hot.

“nah, you are gross, look at this mess!” you pointed at the messy sheets. hamzah rolled his eyes and sighed, tired.

“your fault.” he giggled.

kinda your fault for how fucking adorable you were. your fault for making hamzah so stupidly horny. your fault for making him love you so much.

“need to clean you up, though.” you were going to get up and look for wipes but he held your hand, dragging you back in the bed with him.

“stay with me.” he said, looking at you with those eyes he knew you loved. persuading you into just laying there. next to him.

you couldn’t say no to him, not ever. so you gave in. you threw yourself on the pillows and held his hand. your breathing synced with hamzah’s.

realisation hit you then. you leaned up to peek and held a laugh when you saw the image in front of you. hamzah’s hand gripped yours as he felt you moving. you blinked.

“your dick is still out.”

post nut clarity hit hamzah too, however he was too calm and comfy to do anything about it.

“yeah, i know..”

“okay.” you smiled, leaning your head on his shoulder. he leaned his on yours too, “i love you”

“mhmm, love ya’ so fuckin’ much too, ma, so much, you don’t even imagine…” hamzah snuggled closer to you, the warmth comfiness of your body next to his calmed his nerves.

comfortable silence filled the room, as your tender love filled the void.

>_<

sorry this took so long and sorry this sucks but i smoked some weed and kinda just vomited words and this came out bye

[ghouldtime]

Neighbor! König Part 2

Part One

Part Three

After you expressed interest in his miniature collection, he actually actively OFFICIALLY invited you over one evening (and inside!)

It may not sound like much to most to be invited into someone's house but for him, it's the ultimate trust. His house is his private space, his sanctuary, where he goes to be without other people

He doesn't ever invite anyone inside unless necessary or they've truly gained his trust and being invited INTO his house, and actually into a shared space of one of the hobbies that matter the most to him?? Yeah, that's how he says he likes you

He's been working on his models and dioramas for so so long he's incredibly proud and can't help but to want to actually show them off to someone who wants to see

Usually most people don't care :( or think it's weird

But you've embraced it! You're so excited and he's over the moon, he's having the best day ever, if you do research and bring him gifts or show him some new ideas

He has exquisite attention to detail and INSISTS on everything being exactly the way he envisions it. And you notice! You actually notice. Which means you care about his hobbies, the work he puts in, and therefore him

It might be a bit early to say the L word but he's feeling certain ways

He may be a big dude but that doesn't mean he lacks fine motor skills. He's laying those tiny pieces of moss onto the cobble stones like a PRO

Miniatures allow him control over the environment, even if it's on a smaller scale, and offer a way to keep his hands and mind busy so he often throws himself into it

It also helps him relive happier memories. He's afraid of forgetting them and when he's stressing, it's his happy place because he can look at them and simply remember the things in life that matter

He'll ask you about a story you like or a favorite show or book or movie. That's his next miniature planned (in secret. Can't ruin the surprise, he needs to have it all perfect. He will either read the book, watch the movie, will study EVERY detail)

He will start to invite you over when he's having a painting night or is working on them. You don't have to follow his rules or do what he wants! He's just happy you're there and appreciating it

He will always have your favorite snacks and drinks in stock too. Need to make it fun and can't have you going hungry

If you want, he'll put on background noise! He's happy to make it immersive and to light a candle or put something in a diffuser to really set the scene you're going for. But he's perfectly happy to hangout with you as is

You'll finally get to hear him laugh and hear his really, really bad jokes. He has a dry sense of humor and most of what he says isn't even close to funny, he's awkward like that

But if you laugh? That's it, he's sold.

Time flies so fast when you're over, you don't even realize it's 3am

You don't need to go home! I know it's right across the street but he has a guest room and it saves you the trip in the morning. You have a whole nother round of characters to paint :)

Okay maybe it was an excuse so you could see the curtains he'd made and the pillows and he decorated the guest room with! Like actually tried decorating. They're made with love, that's what counts right?

Did he spray the pillows with his cologne before you came over? Maybe, but he won't ever admit to it

You can't complain. Not when he insists it's no trouble at all, you should stay over, and he does everything he can to make you comfortable.

And you're certainly not complaining when you wake up to breakfast in bed

He's so happy to finally have someone to share his life with, even if it's nothing official. He might not say it because words are hard, but he'll always show it in every way that he can 💚

If you look closely at the replica he made of his childhood home, you'll notice two figures in the kitchen who just so happen to look like you and him

Proud believer of König being just a guy! A guy with hobbies! A guy with a calm domestic life! Just because he's a private military contractor doesn't mean he's a constantly violent dude or a guy who lacks an immense amount of respect for boundaries. Sure, he gets really into his job when he does it, but that's his realm! That's his zone. That's why he's confident and having fun, he knows he's good

Outside of work, he's just a guy with a troubled childhood making the best of life and trying to find his own sense of belonging, happiness, and peace

Justice for König, he's not an insane perv or some freakytron or some stalker :(

[starkeysprincess]

I just know it doesn’t take long for stepbro!rafe to turn you into his perfect little slut, so much so that you start enjoying his punishments a little too much. One day after he finds you doing something naughty and he’s dragging you to his room and pushing you to your knees, you start blabbering, “Rafey wait-“ He pauses. “You got about five seconds to tell me what you want before I don’t let you have any control and I fuck your throat.” You gulp and mumble out “ ‘want spankies” another pause. “ ‘f you feel like you still deserve that after you’re done blowin’ me, I’m not complainin.’”

Once he’s shot his load down your throat and has you over his lap, you can’t help but giggle as he slips your panties down your legs. “The fuck you laughing for, huh?” That’s when you feel the first harsh smack to your ass, and not even near the top of your thighs where it feels good. “Owww. What are you doing?” “Thought this is what you wanted?” “No! Like you did last time.” You pout and that’s when he realizes you’re referring to the harsh little slaps he gives to your pussy, sending vibrations right to your clit and making you squirm just right. He smirks, “ohhh so that’s why you wanted extra punishment, looks like my baby sis is turning into a dirty girl. Well, since you like it so much, that wouldn’t be a very good punishment, would it, doll?” He sneers as his big palm comes down to land the next smack.

Ugh. 3am thoughts.🙄

it definitely wouldn’t take him long especially when he knows how much you look up to him cause he uses that to his advantage and all you wanna do is make him happy but he didn’t realize the possibility of how much you might like certain punishments until one day he finds you sprawled on your bed, fingers stuffed deep in your cunt and you don’t realize he walked in until he’s practically dragging you off the bed and into his room, harshly forcing you onto your knees

he’s already unbuttoning his pants to free his cock when you stop him, “you have five seconds to tell me what you want before I shove my cock down your throat and make you choke on it”

the next words that slip out of your mouth take him by surprise, “want you to spank me” you mumble. he can’t help but chuckle, squeezing your cheeks and pushing his thick dick into your mouth the tip hitting the back of your throat. “if you think you still deserve it after i use this pretty throat, im not gonna complain”

the second you swallow his thick load, he’s yanking you onto your feet, pulling you across his lap as he settles on the edge of his bed. you giggle when he pulls your panties down, letting them sit around your mid thigh before you yelp when his hand made contact with your ass, “the fuck is so funny, huh?”

he lands another harsh smack to your ass, “what are you doing? that hurts” you whine and rafe snorts, “this is what you wanted”. you turn your head to look over your shoulder at him, “no, wanted you to do it like you did last time” you pouted and that’s when he realized you were talking about the way he’d spank your cunt whenever his thick digits were pumping in and out of your cunt or when you wouldn’t stop squirming as his face is buried between your legs

“so that’s why you’ve been acting like a fuckin’ brat, huh? just wanted your pretty little pussy spanked. look at you, turning into nothing but a dirty little slut”

you squeak when his hand comes down on your plump ass again, “s’too bad you like it so much, just means i gotta find another way to punish you”

[rafecameroninterlude]

hiii i was just reminded of this song & thought it was v angsty rafe coded so if you’re still accepting requests for your 5k celebration (congrats sm again btw!!!) may i req a 🍪 with sober by elita?

₊˚⊹ᰔ 𝐬𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫

pairing: dark!rafe x bambi!reader

summary: ❝when i'm with you i float on a cloud, but you cover my mouth and leave my legs bound. i'm scared that i gave you all of the control. i can't get up, i've dug myself into a hole.❞ — a back and forth match about rafe’s sobriety ends with him between your thighs.

warnings: dark themes, drug use, mentions of addiction and sobriety, arguing, yelling, rafe drugs you, dubcon (?), rough sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, slapping, choking, crying, dacryphilia, no aftercare whatsoever :(

word count: 1.2k

a/n: this is out of the norm for me to write, pls read warnings carefully and don’t read any further if you’re not comfortable <3 participate in this poll if you’d like!

“what are you doing?” you froze, eyes puffy and red from crying. rafe looked up from the small bag of blow between his fingers, his eyebrows knitting in irritation. “what the fuck does it look like?” he sneered, his knee bouncing as he itched for his next bump. you watched him take the white powder on his finger, wasting no time in rubbing the substance on his gums. your heart broke for him. “you said you were going to stop..” you stepped closer to him, the tears flowing once again.

“yeah? well, what else can i do?” he pushed you back, your hands catching onto his arm. “you promised me, rafe! you said it!” you cried, your boyfriend getting up before slamming you down on your shared bed. you released a breath, his manic eyes burning into yours. “look at you.” you whispered, his hand wrapped tightly around your throat. “how did we get here?” you croaked, panic settling in the pit of your stomach. rafe gritted his teeth, squeezing you tighter.

you started struggling against him, only being able to get out of his grip when you raked your nails down his chest. “you did this to yourself!” he shouted, punching the wall. “you choose to stay here, so i don’t ‘wanna hear shit.” rafe spat, turning around to shoot daggers at your crying form. “i just want you to be healthy. ‘n not high all the time.” you whispered the last part, your heart dropping when he narrowed his eyes at you. “what did you just say?” rafe stalked towards you.

“you know it’s true.” you scooted further up the bed, your heart hammering in your chest when he started laughing. “your eyes get so big, you scare me.” you flinched when he gripped the bedsheets, pulling them so he could get you close. “i scare you?” he laughed harder, “i’ll really give you something to be scared about.” you attempted to run, but he ultimately had the upper hand in caging you between his arms. “where the fuck do you think you’re going, huh?”

you shook your head, cupping his face. he looked like he was on the verge of going off the deep end. “no where! no where..” you were panting, afraid of what he might do. you had to be careful and watch your every move when rafe wasn’t in his right mind. any slip of tongue or the wrong movement would send him spiraling. “you trying to leave me?” his voice dropped a few octaves, his fingers shaking against your skin. “no. i could never leave you, remember?”

the fear in your eyes were as clear as day, and rafe knew you were lying out of instinct to stay on his good side. that only pissed him off more. swallowing thickly, rafe sat back on his heels, taking the small bag out of his pocket. “i didn’t want to do this to you, baby..” he took the tip of his finger and dipped it in. “but i promise you’ll feel so good.” with the powdery drug on his index finger, you started thrashing against him as he forced his digit inside of your mouth.

“no!” you screamed, but it was too late. rafe wore a wicked smile, popping the same finger in his mouth to get off the residue that didn’t smear against your tongue and gums. you stayed frozen underneath him, looking up at the ceiling as rafe got up from on top of you. not knowing where he went, or what he went to do, you laid there until you found it impossible to be still. getting up from the bed, you walked into the bathroom where you stared at your reflection.

your pupils were absolutely blown, a pang of hurt pulling at your heartstrings. you had given rafe so much control, that he did the unthinkable to you. speaking of the devil, you looked up at him as he emerged from behind the door, his eyes meeting your matching ones. he wore a smug look on his face, like he was proud of himself for corrupting you. “feel like you could run a marathon?” you were breathing fast, a thin sheen of sweat adorning your skin.

“how could you?” you turned around, his hands planting themselves on your hips. he felt hot, like his flesh was on fire. “don’t worry, bambi, you’ll be fine.” he kissed you, his taste just as intoxicating. if it wasn’t for the endorphins running through your veins at a million miles per minute, you would’ve pushed rafe away. instead, you felt like you needed to move, and fast. you kissed him back, the fervor between the two of you growing until he picked you up and carried you to your room.

nipping your bottom lip, you whimpered, the stinging sensation only making you cling onto rafe with more desperation. “gonna fuck you so good, baby. ‘have you coming down from that high around my cock.” he pinned you to the mattress, forcing your legs open as he slipped his shirt off in one swift movement. you gasped when he held both of your ankles in one hand, pushing down so your knees met your chest.

the sound of rafe’s zipper was the last thing you heard before he thrusted into you without warning, eliciting a piercing scream from your lips. he hadn’t got you ‘ready’ for him the way he normally did, your walls fluttering around the intrusion that was his throbbing cock. your back arched off of the sheets, your eyes watering as rafe merely used you to get himself off. he worked with precision, having no regard for you as he relentlessly slammed his hips into your own.

your nails dug into your skin, forming crescents as you cried underneath him. “rafe!” you tapped on his arm, which only agitated him. “shut the fuck up.” he said through gritted teeth, landing a slap to your cheek. holding your face, rafe looked down and groaned. he knew it was wrong to get off on you crying, but with lust and blow running through his system, he didn’t care. “you’re so mean.” you whined, your muscles aching as he started toying with your clit.

“i’m not mean. i’m the one who fuckin’ takes care of you,” he pressed a kiss to your calf, “so just lay there and take what i give you.” your eyes rolled back, your thighs trembling when his thrusts became sloppy. you hated yourself for falling into his ministrations, your orgasm ripping through you as rafe collapsed on top of you with a moan. “oh, shit.” he spilled inside of you, the thick ropes of his cum coating your velvety walls. he wiped your eyes before kissing your cheek.

you were coming down from both highs when he left you, the sound of the shower turning on in the nearby bathroom. you felt scared, not knowing what to think of your reaction to the drug you grew to hate so much. when rafe got out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist, he didn’t spare you a glance before changing and plopping down on the edge of the bed. “you make me lose my temper when you wanna argue about shit like that. keep your mouth shut next time.”

[that-house]

December 3rd, 2031 – Sixty degrees, clear skies, and a nice southeasterly breeze. It was a beautiful day to lay siege to Dallas. It was a good thing the weather was nice, because everything else about the operation looked rough. Marian couldn’t wait.

Dallas was a classic Texan fortress-city, two rings of forty foot tall concrete walls with a killing field in between, bristling with anti-aircraft cannon. The ground-facing defenses were a little less thorough, but a few machine guns would make quick work of any infantry charge and Dallas had more than a few machine guns.

“We aren’t being paid enough,” Suzy griped. She was crouching in the shade, alternatingly blowing a bubble of gum and taking swigs out of a bottle whose contents were hidden by a paper bag.

“We’re mercenaries. Get used to it.” Marian hoisted her gun onto her shoulder. “Besides, they don’t exactly expect us to succeed.”

“Oh, are we leading a suicide charge? I wasn’t paying attention to the Duke.” Suzy was never paying attention, but the benefits of having her around outweighed the drawbacks. Most days, at least.

“Pretty much.”

“Did the guys we’re with know this was a suicide charge?”

Marion looked around at the Jeep the Duke of Austin had hastily assigned the duo to. The soldiers suddenly all looked a bit green around the gills. “I’m guessing not. Chin up, boys! Auntie Marian won’t let any harm come to you.”

One of the men, a lieutenant, managed to find his voice. “Why are we here?”

“The Duke hopes that we’ll die loud enough that Dallas won’t notice his bombers taking out the emplaced guns. Doesn’t strike me as very sound tactics, but hey, he’s got manpower to make up for what he lacks in brains.”

Silence in the back of the Jeep.

Marian continued, mostly to fuck with them. “And don’t think the tanks’ll be any help. See those big fancy guns up on the wall? Those are lonestar guns. You boys seen lonestar guns?”

“Yeah.”

“So you get the idea. But hey, cheer up! It’s not every day you get to storm the best-defended city in the state!”

The man slowly came to a revelation a long time coming. “You’re insane,” he said.

“Insane was my father’s name. Please, call me Marian Typhoon.”

Suzy cackled. “That was terrible.”

The soldiers looked between the two women, now realizing they were both mad. “How are you two so calm?”

Marian didn’t answer for a moment, looking out at the slowly-approaching walls of Dallas. The lonestar guns’ targeting algorithms would start flagging the vehicles soon. “Suzy, how far out are we?”

“About a mile and a half.” Suzy busied herself checking over her rifle.

“Now, boys, I’m gonna explain two concepts very quickly, so you’d best pay attention. The KL-90 fully automatic sniper rifle, sometimes called “Le Papillon,” was something of a failure, because for some reason those glorious Frenchmen decided to make it fire 1200 rounds per minute, giving it a tendency to dump the entire mag into one poor fucker. Only six were ever made, and nowadays they’re just museum pieces. In 2026, the American military plunged into the deep end of bioweaponry and concocted a little something known as the ‘vampire virus,’ which proved pretty damn lethal in 99.99% of cases. The 0.01% that survived were problematic enough that the program shut down, and all information about it was expunged from the record.”

Marion patted Suzy affectionately on the head. “Now you might be wondering how those two disparate pieces of information might happen to overlap, and if you boys just sit pretty for a moment I reckon you’ll be able to connect the dots. Suzy?”

The last surviving vampire, Suzy Nines, slotted the magazine into her KL-90 fully automatic sniper rifle, and squinted out at the Dallas walls. She squeezed the trigger, the barrel swinging into a wild blur of motion as the sound of gunfire filled the air. “Machine gunners down. Reloading.”

Marian patted the hapless lieutenant on the shoulder. “Come along, boys. Auntie Marian’s got a city to take.”

[kaces-graham-crackers]

Stirring the Quiet - Hidden Verses

Jenna Ortega x Female Reader

Summary: Y/N's weekend spirals into something more after a simple Instagram follow sparks nonstop texting with Jenna. As a poetry night unfolds, hidden emotions and lingering looks stir beneath the surface, leaving Y/N wondering if there’s more to Jenna’s words than she realizes.

Word Count: 2.8k

I lay sprawled out on my bed, staring at the crumpled receipt with Jenna's Instagram handle scribbled at the bottom. "Jenna has neat handwriting." Mr. Noodles had busied himself with the loose string from my hoodie, batting it around like it was the most exciting thing in the world. I couldn't help but stare at the note beneath it.

"Thanks for the coffee and conversation again, Slick."

I huffed, running a hand through my hair. It was the weekend, and The Daily Grind was closed, but my mind hadn't stopped buzzing since yesterday. I wasn't sure if it was because I spent the entire night tossing and turning or if the note and handle staring back at me were messing with my head.

Mr. Noodles rolled over next to me, biting the loose string of my hoodie. I chuckled, tugging the string away only for Mr. Noodles to pounce on it again. "You're supposed to be giving me advice, Sir," I muttered to the cat.

"Should I follow her?" I muttered aloud, glancing down at Mr. Noodles as if the cat would magically start talking. Instead, he batted the string again, completely uninterested in my words. Sighing, I pulled out my phone. "Okay, maybe I'll just look at her profile... just a quick peek."

I typed in Jenna's handle, my fingers shaking just a little as her profile popped up. Her feed included behind-the-scenes shots from sets, goofy pictures with friends, and the occasional aesthetically curated post. It was everything I expected and more, yet somehow, seeing it all made Jenna feel both distant and approachable.

I glanced at the Instagram handle again, thumb hovering over the 'follow' button. My heart thumped loudly in my ears. "Do I follow her now? Is that weird?" A nervous flutter filled my chest.

I looked at Mr. Noodles, hoping for some sort of divine intervention. I sighed and turned the phone screen toward the cat, leaning in as if he might actually give me the needed advice.

"What do you think? Follow or not?" I asked, thumb still frozen in place.

Mr. Noodles tilted his head for a moment, and before I could stop him, his paw shot out, landing directly on the screen—pressing the follow button.

My eyes widened. “Oh no… no, no, no, no! Noodles! Why—" I yelped, sitting upright, heart jumping out of my chest. I stared at the phone silently as if it might explode. Great. She's going to think I'm creepy, I panicked.

Mr. Noodles showed no remorse. Unfazed by my mini-crisis, he merely stretched out his paw, pressed it on my chest, meowed, and held it there as if to say, "Chill, human, it's just Instagram."

I laughed softly, scratching behind his ears. "I guess I did ask for your advice, boss; maybe it's not the end of the world," I replied, setting the phone down and falling back onto the pillow. The nerves from before slowly faded as Mr. Noodles curled up closer, purring contentedly.

A few minutes later, a buzz from my phone broke the silence. My heart stopped for a second as I grabbed the phone. It was Jenna.

Jenna: "I see you found my Instagram, Slick."

I sat up again, staring at the screen. Slick. That nickname was going to stick, wasn't it?

My heart was still pounding. What am I supposed to say to that? I bit my lip, staring at the screen, trying to find the perfect way to respond without sounding like I was fangirling.

Y/N: "Haha, yeah, I might have had a little nudge from Mr. Noodles. He has a knack for pressing buttons."

Jenna's response came quickly.

Jenna: "I knew Mr. Noodles had good taste. Should I be worried he's the mastermind behind everything?"

I chuckled, panic subsiding. Maybe this wouldn't be as bad as I thought.

Y/N: "Definitely. He's secretly running my life from behind the scenes."

Jenna: "Well, tell him he's doing a great job."

The conversation flowed easily after that. Jenna texted about how she was shopping with her mom and sister. I found myself smiling as I read Jenna's updates about their day. We talked about each other's Instagram pages, with Jenna casually mentioning how "quiet" my account was. She commented on some of them—photos of The Daily Grind, a bunch of funny pictures of Mr. Noodles, and random snapshots of L.A. life.

Jenna: "I didn't know you were into photography."

Y/N: "Just something I dabble in, nothing serious."

Jenna: "Well, you've got an eye for it."

Reading Jenna's message, I bit my tongue, stifling a snicker.

Y/N: "You've got an eye for a lot of things, don't you? Bet you could spot a diamond in the rough without even trying."

There was a moment of silence, a break in the rapid-fire messaging, and my brain immediately went into panic mode. As I reread my last message, my heart raced as I questioned every word. Was that flirting? Oh god, did it sound like I was flirting? Groaning internally, I debated whether to follow up or leave it alone, replaying the words repeatedly, hoping I hadn't crossed any lines.

Meanwhile, across town, Jenna stood in a boutique with her mom and sister, holding a pair of shoes, when her phone buzzed again. She glanced down at my message, a small, amused smile playing on her lips as she read it. Was that... flirting? she wondered, feeling a spark of something she couldn't quite place.

Aliyah, her younger sister, nudged her with a teasing grin. "You've been glued to that phone all day. What's up with that?"

Jenna shrugged, trying to play it off. "Nothing, just texting."

"Texting who?" Aliyah leaned in, trying to peek over Jenna's shoulder. "Come on, spill the tea! You haven't been this distracted since... ever."

Jenna quickly pulled her phone closer, shooting her sister a look. "It's not a big deal."

Aliyah raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. "Uh-huh, sure. You're not fooling me. Who is it?"

Jenna smirked and shook her head. "None of your business, Aliyah."

Aliyah laughed. "Fine, keep your secrets. But I'm watching you," she teased, throwing a playful smirk as they walked away. Jenna's thoughts lingered on my message, the teasing fading into the background as she mentally filed away the moment for later.

Panicking a little, I started typing out an explanation. "I was just saying, you know, your Instagram feed is super polished. That post you did at the premiere? It definitely looks professional. Like, you've got an eye for these things."

I hit send, biting my lip as the message went through. Crisis averted, right?

But her reply came in almost immediately: "Are you flirting with me, Slick?"

My face immediately heated up. Was I? I hadn't thought so, but now… maybe? My heart raced as I stared at the words on my screen.

Frantically, I started typing again, trying to come up with something that didn't make me sound like a complete fool. My fingers danced over the keyboard as I finally typed, "Only if it's working."

I winced immediately. Did I seriously just say that? But I didn't have time to take it back because Jenna's reply popped up almost instantly: "Maybe it is ;)"

My brain short-circuited as I reread the message, swallowing hard. I needed to keep it together.

The rest of the day flew by. We texted back and forth, sometimes in rapid bursts and other times falling into a comfortable silence. I hadn't even noticed how much time we had spent texting. After cooking, I sent Jenna a quick message.

Y/N: "About to eat. What about you?"

But before I could wait for a response, Mr. Noodles let out a long, dramatic meow, reminding me of his presence—and his empty food bowl.

"Don't worry, I didn't forget about you," I muttered, hopping up to feed him.

Y/N: "Feeding Mr. Noodles before he stages a protest."

Jenna: "A well-fed Noodles is a happy Noodles."

I laughed and grabbed the little tray, setting Noodles' plate on it. "I even got the tray this time, Noodles." Noodles never ate his meals unless they were on his special tray. The cat had his dignity, after all. I took a quick selfie with Noodles eating his food in the foreground, my hoodie-clad self sitting beside him with a content smile.

Y/N: [Pic] "Noodles approves of dinner."

Jenna: "Noodles is adorable. Oh yeah, you're there too."

Gasping playfully, I put my hand on my chest and shook my head.

After dinner, I tossed my phone on the bed and stretched. Then, I stared at my reflection in the mirror, tugging at my hoodie strings.

"We've been texting all day… like we're—" The thought was abruptly halted by a text from Jenna.

Jenna: Oh, are you going to that poetry event?"

I paused. I had almost forgotten about the poetry night, but now the idea of Jenna showing up made me excited and nervous.

Y/N: "Yeah, I'll be there, "I can't get out of work that easily, sadly."

Jenna: Lol, good, because I was thinking about stopping by.

I smiled at my phone, feeling a strange excitement bubbling inside me. I mentioned the event casually, not thinking Jenna would actually show up. But here she was, considering it.

Y/N: "Yeah, come drop by! It's going to be tons of fun."

Jenna: "Fun's one way to put it…I was thinking about reading something."

I froze. Jenna Ortega, reading poetry?

Y/N: "Wait, you're gonna read something? Now I have to see this."

Jenna: "Guess you'll have something to look forward to then."

Y/N: "I guess we’ll see then. I'm heading to bed. I'll talk to you later. Goodnight!"

Jenna: "All right, get some rest. Goodnight!"

I flopped back onto my bed, my phone still in hand. Mr. Noodles, completely unbothered, was fast asleep, the very cause of my earlier crisis now resting peacefully. I gave him a light scratch on the head. "This is going to be an interesting poetry night, buddy."

A few days later, the poetry event was in full swing at The Daily Grind. The café's warm glow set the perfect stage for the poets to approach the mic. Customers sat scattered around tables, sipping lattes and nibbling on pastries, but tonight, there was no usual chatter. The air buzzed with something more—a soft, attentive silence layered with the energy of excitement and nerves.

I stood behind the counter, half-listening to the poems as I washed some dishes. My mind kept drifting back to Jenna, who'd arrived not too long ago. She was sitting in the middle of the café now, flipping through her journal, occasionally looking up when someone delivered a line that caught her interest.

I tried to focus on the cappuccino cup I was washing, but my stomach kept twisting with this weird mix of excitement and nerves. I'd never really imagined Jenna as the poetry type, but seeing her here, confident, made the idea of her reading even more intriguing. Jenna, reading poetry. Damn.

I’d finished the last of my batch of dishes when I heard the soft creak of a chair. Glancing up, I saw Jenna standing, journal in hand, making her way toward the small stage. Her steps were steady but confident, sending my heart into overdrive.

I leaned against the counter, gripping the edge as I watched her take her place at the mic. The background hum of conversation faded to nothing, and I could feel the energy shift as Jenna tapped her journal against the mic stand.

"Hi, for those who don't know me, my name is Jenna." The crowd softly erupted into a few snaps and cheers.

"This is something I've been working on for a while," Jenna started, her voice steady but carrying this vulnerable edge. "I don't usually share my poetry, but… here goes nothing."

My breath caught in my chest. The café was silent now, except for the faint hiss of the espresso machine in the background. My attention was fixed on Jenna.

She flipped open her journal, her fingers gently brushing over the worn pages. She took a deep breath and began to read:

"There's a space between silence and sound, Where words get caught, Lingering like an echo that never fades, A warmth that lingers in the coldest moments. It’s like a whisper I can't quite grasp, But somehow, it stays with me."

Her voice was soft but sure, each word hanging in the air like it belonged there. I couldn’t take my eyes off her, feeling my chest tighten as her words seemed to reach out and pull me in. The room felt smaller, more intimate, like it was just the two of us.

"There's a light that breaks through the quiet, A glow that touches everything in its path. And when it touches me, I feel—"

She paused, glancing up from her journal, and her eyes landed on me. For a heartbeat, we locked eyes, and I swear my heart stuttered.

"I feel like I could stay in that light forever," she finished, her voice dropping into something softer, almost like it was just for me.

The room stayed quiet for a beat, the kind of quiet that follows something that just hits everyone right where it counts. Soft applause and snaps slowly filled the space, but I barely registered it. I was too busy trying to breathe, trying to shake the feeling that maybe—just maybe—that line had been meant for me.

Jenna closed her journal with a soft thud, her eyes scanning the room as she smiled nervously. I joined in the clapping, my hands slightly trembling. That line—"I could stay in that light forever." Damn, she had me more shaken than I wanted to admit.

Jenna stepped off the stage, her face still flushed as she sat at the counter where I stood. I didn’t even realize I was holding my breath until I let out a shaky laugh.

"Not bad for a movie star," I managed to say, my voice betraying me.

Jenna looked up at me, a smile tugging at her lips. "You didn’t think I had it in me, huh?"

I chuckled, rubbing the back of my neck. "No, I just… didn’t expect it. But yeah, you really had something there."

Jenna raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by how flustered I was. "Thanks, Slick. Maybe one day I’ll share the rest with you."

My throat tightened. I shook my head, laughing nervously. "Only if you want to! No rush or pressure."

She leaned in a little, her smile still teasing. "Yeah, I don’t mind. I guess I’m full of surprises."

Before I could reply, our hands brushed as I reached for a stray napkin left by a patron. That small touch sent a spark through me, my heart racing. Jenna’s fingers lingered just a second longer than necessary before her face grew redder, and she reached into her bag, pulling out a small, leather-bound journal.

"This," Jenna said, "is what I’ve been working on."

My eyes widened. "That’s amazing. Looks like a real book already."

Jenna smiled, running her fingers over the cover. "I’ve been working on a collection of affirmations and positive vibes. Something people can read to start their day off right."

I lit up. "That’s incredible! You should write a poem about The Daily Grind. You know, as an ode to caffeine and good vibes."

Jenna froze for a second, her blush deepening. "I—um—yeah, I could do that," she stammered.

I tilted my head, a little concerned. "You all right? You don’t have to if you're not up for it. I just thought you really enjoyed the café. It always seems to relax you."

Jenna let out a nervous laugh as she fidgeted with her journal. "Just a few after-butterflies. The crowd can be overwhelming sometimes... even for a big movie star," she said, her voice quieter than usual, clearly nervous.

I smiled, trying to ease the tension. "Come on, I know just the spot where you can get some air."

I led Jenna out to the back patio, the view of the city spreading out before us. The twinkling lights of L.A. cast a soft glow over the horizon, making everything feel a little more magical. It was quieter here, away from the usual hum of the café, just the two of us. The noise of the poetry event faded, leaving behind the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze.

Jenna leaned back in her chair, staring out at the view, her journal resting on her lap. She seemed more at ease now, her earlier nervousness gone. I couldn’t help but watch her, still in awe of how someone like her could feel so grounded, sitting next to me like this.

I started humming softly, letting the cool night air relax me. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Jenna turn her head slightly, listening. Her eyes softened.

“You’ve got a beautiful voice, Y/N,” Jenna said, her voice gentle.

I glanced down at my hands, caught off guard. “Thanks. I didn’t even realize I was doing it.”

“You should sing more,” Jenna added. “It suits you.”

I smiled but didn’t respond immediately. Instead, I leaned back, closing my eyes for a moment, letting the peaceful atmosphere sink in. The night wrapped around us, soft and still. The only sound was the breeze weaving through the trees, and our quiet breathing.

Eventually, Jenna broke the silence. “I used to take acting classes as a kid. I thought it was fun, but it was also a lot of work. Everyone thinks it’s all glam, but it’s really not.”

I opened my eyes and looked over at her. “Yeah? I remember wanting to be a star when I was younger. My parents got me singing lessons, but I ended up with a lazy talent agent who only got me background roles in a few plays and on the occasional TV or movie set.”

Jenna chuckled lightly, her smile a little mischievous. “Hey, that’s how it starts. You’ve got to work your way up. Hollywood isn’t like the movies—there’s no fairy tale moment where someone discovers you walking down the street.”

I laughed with her. “Guess I’ll stick to making lattes.”

Jenna grinned, her eyes sparkling in the dim light. “You’re good at that, too.”

As we continued talking, it felt like the world outside the patio didn’t exist anymore. It was just me and Jenna, the stars above us, and the quiet stillness of the night. We traded stories—nothing deep or profound, but it was effortless. Like we’d known each other longer than we actually had.

There was something calming about being with Jenna, something that made me feel like I didn’t have to rush or worry. Just being in the moment was enough.

Jenna took a deep breath, breaking the quiet. “I guess that’s what I love about acting… it lets me escape for a while, but it’s not always what people think.”

I tilted my head, listening carefully. “Yeah? What do people get wrong about it?”

She paused, her fingers tracing the edges of her journal absentmindedly. “They only see the glam, the red carpets, and the premieres. But they don’t see the long hours, the rejection, or how hard you have to work just to land a role. It can get exhausting.”

I nodded. "I feel you. Sometimes, everyone only sees the end result and forgets all the effort it took to get there."

Jenna smiled, a little softer this time. “Exactly. I think that’s why I like moments like this… when everything’s quiet, and I can just be myself. No cameras, no expectations.”

My chest tightened a little at her words. There was a vulnerability there, a side of Jenna I hadn’t seen before. I nodded, feeling the weight of the conversation settle between us. “Yeah… moments like this are pretty rare.”

She looked at me then, her eyes lingering just a little longer than usual, like she was trying to figure me out. It was quiet again, but this time, the silence felt different—deeper.

Eventually, I spoke up, trying to lighten the mood. “You know, you really should write that poem about The Daily Grind. You’ve got to immortalize this place in poetry.”

Jenna laughed, the sound soft but full of warmth. “Okay, okay, I’ll think about it.”

We both sat there for a little while longer, the city lights twinkling around us like stars had spilled onto the ground. It was one of those rare moments where everything just felt… right. I didn’t want it to end, but as the night deepened, I knew we’d have to head back soon.

But for now, I was content to just sit there, with Jenna beside me, the world quiet around us.

[nadvs]

push and pull (part two) (end)

pairing twin!rafe x female reader x twin!zach

summary life felt complicated enough when you started falling for zach. then you meet rafe. he’s the complete opposite of his twin brother, but he captures your attention just the same.

content warnings alcohol use, mental illness, mentions of parental abandonment

» intro post | part one

» masterlist

When Zach wakes up the next morning, he fully understands the term hangxiety.

His temples pound as he stares at his ceiling. At some point last night, he slipped from tipsy into drunk.

Thankfully, he didn’t get so wasted that he’s forgetting anything. But then again, that means every time he made an ass of himself is a memory etched into his brain.

He remembers welcoming his date. Having a decent time with her. Walking her downstairs. Her lips on his cheek when she kissed him goodbye. Feeling like something was missing, and then, that something wasn’t missing anymore when you came downstairs to let him in.

And he remembers looking over at you across the party. Wishing he was next to you. Feeling crappy for thinking about you while he was with another girl. Knowing he was idiot for thinking he could ignore his feelings for you and date someone else.

Talking to you in the elevator. Crap.

He buries his head into his pillow. Why did he blabber to you like that? His brother would kill him if he knew what he said. He probably already wants to kill him for loudly proclaiming how much he loves him in the hallway. Rafe’s not one for any sort of PDA.

Zach picks up his phone to text you: Trauma dumping to you was just a dream I had, right? Please tell me it didn’t actually happen.

You reply minutes later: you mean in the elevator? definitely a dream.

Despite his embarrassment, he smiles at his screen.

He replies: Sorry about that.

You send another text: it’s no problem. i’m guessing you have a pretty bad hangover.

He replies: Everything hurts.

You text back: make sure to hydrate and rest ok?

Zach smiles again. He can’t help but daydream about you coming over, taking care of him, cuddling him.

He’s worried about the consequences of things going wrong if he got into a relationship with you. But God, does he want you.

He replies: Ok :)

When he eventually leaves his bedroom, he sees Rafe lounging on the couch, still in his pajamas. Surprisingly, his brother actually tidied up.

It gives him hope that Rafe really is trying to improve himself. He’s had his fair share of meltdowns and Zach’s had a front row seat to all of them, watching his brother break down into tears, spiralling into his toxic, self-hating thoughts.

Once he calms down, every time, Rafe talks about how he knows he’s not a good person, that he wants to be better. But then, he sticks to his bad habits. He never gets the help he needs, even though Zach encourages him to.

Nonetheless, Zach never saw the bad in Rafe that he’s so adamant is there. At his worst, he can be violent, drunkenly throwing punches at parties, but Zach knows it’s a result of his emotional scars.

“Shit,” Rafe chuckles when he sees Zach. “You’re alive.”

“Barely.” Zach sinks onto the other side of the couch, closing his eyes as he tilts his head back. “You cleaned up for once.”

“Did you just say for once? I’m always cleaning up, asshole,” he mutters, making Zach laugh.

“I hope the neighbors don’t hate us,” Zach says. “The party got kinda loud last night.”

“This guy’s thinking about the neighbors,” Rafe says with a scoff. “The girl you were with looked like she was into you. Bet she would’ve stayed the night.”

“Maybe,” Zach says with a shrug, thinking back to his date.

Then, Rafe says he thinks you might be into him, too, considering he caught you staring. And Zach’s pulse picks up.

He loves and hates hearing that. Because if you really do like him back, it’s exciting, but that makes it even more crushing that he can’t pursue anything.

“Maybe,” Zach echoes.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Rafe laughs, thinking about how good you looked last night. “I’d jump on that if I had the chance.”

“But you don’t have the chance,” Zach murmurs. “If you love me, you won’t jump on any of my friends.”

Zach sits up and looks at his brother.

“By the way, you never said you love me back last night. I’m still waiting.”

“Yeah,” Rafe snorts. “You can keep waiting.”

────୨ৎ────

On Monday morning, you finally get a response from a student you found online who’s selling a used textbook you need.

You’d rather not go by yourself, so you text the group chat: i need to go to a stranger’s house to buy a textbook tonight. is anyone down to tag along so i’m not alone?

To your relief, Zach texts the group a minute later: I got you :)

That evening, you’re knocking on his front door. Instead of Zach, though, Rafe answers.

“Hi,” you say. “Is Zach around? He’s supposed to come with me to pick a textbook up.”

“Haven’t heard him since he got home,” he says, turning to look up the stairs. “I’ll get him.”

A minute later, Rafe comes down, keys jingling in his hand.

“He’s sleeping,” he says. “I can take you. I was about to go for a drive anyway.”

“Cool,” you say. “Thanks.”

You watch him lean over to slip on his sneakers, his frame broad and tall. It’s surprising that Zach, who’s usually reliable, forgot about your plans. And that Rafe, who you’ve come to known as hot and cold, is willing to help you.

He locks the door behind him before you make your way down the hallway together.

“He must be tired after practice,” you say, well aware of the team’s training schedule.

“Yeah, when he’s asleep, he’s out.”

You smirk to yourself, imagining Zach adorably bundled up in his bed. You already know he’s going to apologize profusely once he realizes he accidentally bailed on you.

“It’s only ten minutes away,” you tell Rafe. “I just wanted someone with me since it’s some random guy I don’t know selling it.”

“Zach didn’t offer to just buy a new one for you?” he asks.

“No,” you laugh, entering the elevator. “Why would he?”

Rafe doesn’t get Zach sometimes. It’s insane that he’s not into you, that he sleeps through plans with you, that he doesn’t offer to buy you something that probably only costs a few hundred dollars.

“Want me to?” Rafe asks. You have to laugh.

“It’s okay,” you say. “I already set all this up. Do you always offer to buy girls school supplies?”

He bites his tongue. If Zach wasn’t so adamant about m not being allowed to try to hook up with you, he’d flirt and say yes, he buys all kinds of things for beautiful girls.

“Not always,” he settles for.

The elevator doors open. You enter the parking garage and follow Rafe to his car, settling into the cushioned passenger seat. He starts the engine, then offers the cable hooked up his radio to you.

“Already know you have good taste,” Rafe says. You smile, plugging your phone in.

You’re Zach’s friend, but he figures you can be his friend, too. Because he wants to get to know what he can about you, to flatter you and joke with you and talk to you, even though the night won’t be ending with you in his bed. He has fun with you. He’ll take what he can get.

He backs out of his parking spot, putting his hand against the back of your headrest as he looks through the rear window. You gaze up at his profile, taking in just how handsome he is, how nice his cologne smells.

Rafe doesn’t know the song you put on, but he likes it. He turns forward in his seat, driving out of the garage.

You chat about your days and even though it’s small-talk, it doesn’t feel like it. There’s an ease with Rafe that you can’t really compare to with anyone else.

Still, he’s kind of intimidating, but you naturally want to keep challenging this way he makes you feel, cracking the wall he has up.

When you reach the house at the end of a dark street, Rafe parks in the driveway, turns his key and takes it out of ignition.

“You can wait here,” you offer.

“Nah,” he mumbles. He unbuckles his seatbelt. “I’m not letting you go alone.”

With Rafe standing behind you as you knock on the front door, the feeling of him protecting you is intoxicating, making your heart pound harder.

The door swings open and you greet the man you’ve been messaging. He’s holding the textbook you need and when you offer him four twenties, he looks through the bills and shakes his head.

“We said $100,” he says.

“No,” you reply. “$80. You said $80 was good.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I have the texts to prove it,” you laugh in disbelief.

“Really, man?” Rafe mutters. “Just give her the book.”

“$100,” he repeats.

“Forget it,” Rafe says. He steps forward, roughly taking your money out of his hand and pulling you by the waist. “I’ll just get you a new one.”

“No, wait,” the guy calls. “$80’s fine.”

“Get fucked,” Rafe mutters. You follow him to the car, still mentally catching up to what just happened. “Trying to scam you over twenty dollars. What a joke.”

You settle in the car, feeling Rafe’s warm, big hand curl your fingers open so he can give you your money back.

He’s fuming, beyond pissed off that someone would try to trick you like that. He’s glad you didn’t come by yourself to have to deal with this idiot alone. And he’s not sure how Zach would’ve handled it.

“How much is a new book?” he asks.

“Like, $250,” you tell him.

“I got it covered, alright?” he says. “Give me your phone.”

You comply, still a little jarred but appreciating how quickly he swept in to help you. You watch him enter digits, call himself to get your number, then hang up.

He returns your phone and takes his out, taps on your number, and quickly opens up a bank app.

“You really don’t have to,” you say.

“It’s fine.”

Within a minute, he sends you $250. It’s bizarre how he’s acting like that much money is nothing. Like he’s giving you change he owes you.

Rafe exhales slowly, starting his car again, coming down from the daze. This happens a lot. It’s like he blacks out when he gives in to his impulses.

But what can he do? He has a weak spot for you and he hates the idea of someone doing you wrong, of him not helping you when he’s totally capable of it.

He scratches his forehead. Zach’s words resonate in his head, telling him he needs to cool down and think before he does things. Sometimes his temper flares with no warning.

He’s sure he came off way too intense. He doesn’t know how to apologize for it. Before he can speak, you do.

“Can you come with me every time I have to buy something?” you say lightheartedly. It eases some of the tension in his chest.

“Was that too much?” he says, tone low.

You smile to yourself. You wouldn’t call it too much. He seems like he’s an intense, passionate person. Beneath the surface, Rafe feels more than he lets on.

“You didn’t let a guy con me, then you bought me a $250 book,” you reply with a laugh. “Trust me, you’re good. Thank you.”

Your phone buzzes with a text from Zach as you back out of the driveway. Crap I’m so sorry. I don’t even remember falling asleep. Did you come over?

You reply: all good! i figured you were exhausted. rafe went with me.

“Guess who’s awake,” you say, the smile apparent in your tone. Rafe glances over at your profile as you text back.

He hates this about himself, the envy that pushes him to be sure that Zach is so much better than him. That every girl, if given the chance, would pick his brother over him.

“So, you were going to go for a drive?” you say, tucking your phone away. Because of his kind gestures tonight, you’re pretty sure that he likes hanging out with you. “Want company?”

Rafe taps his hand against the steering wheel. Even if this is just platonic, he doesn’t want you to leave his car.

“If I can pick the music,” he says.

“You said I had good taste.”

“Mine’s better.”

You laugh, and because he held your waist just a few minutes ago, you don’t feel apprehensive to touch him. You nudge his shoulder. He smirks.

An hour goes by like a minute. When Rafe and you part, your cheeks hurt from how much you’ve been smiling and laughing with him.

You talked together nonstop, touching on the most random subjects, finding similarities and differences. You have a deep crush on him. There’s no denying it.

When Rafe watches you step out of his car, he realizes that this isn’t just attraction like he’s used to. He feels like he knows you. And he likes you. It’s exciting and scary.

When Rafe makes it home, Zach is in the kitchen, the whole loft smelling like delicious food.

“You actually remembered how to get home?” Zach teases over the sound of ingredients sizzling in a pan.

“Lost track of time,” Rafe says. He settles on a barstool as Zach stands at the range, trying not to burn dinner.

Zach is glad his back is to his brother, because when Rafe tells him that he was with you that entire time, driving around and talking, his eyebrows furrow in anger and jealousy before he can subdue it.

“But before you lose your shit,” Rafe adds, “it was all friendly, okay?”

“Right,” Zach mumbles. He stares down at the pan, trying to breathe through his prickly frustration. He’s unbelievably mad at himself for falling asleep after practice.

You can do whatever you want, he knows that, but he feels that even though it’s just as a friend, you’re his, not Rafe’s. And his brother getting to spend time with you feels painfully unfair.

────୨ৎ────

The bright stadium lights pool over the deep green soccer field. It’s a cool evening, perfect for a match.

Cold seeps in through your jeans as you sit on the metal bench on the sideline. You have your phone at the ready to film the team as they rush the field for a home game.

You’ve grown to love your job. You found great friends, the TikTok account is earning more traction, and you’ve started to genuinely enjoy coming out to games and cheering on your school’s team.

It’s been almost a week since your night with Rafe. You haven’t seen him or Zach since. You welcome the distance. Liking them both is ridiculously confusing.

Minutes pass. The crowd is getting louder. The team still isn’t out on the field. Your dad runs a tight ship, so it’s weird that they’re late.

You head into the stadium tunnel towards the locker room, curiosity nagging you. A group of players are standing outside the door and you approach Chance.

“What’s going on?” you ask.

“Something’s up with Zach,” Chance tells you. Alarm rushes through you and you step into the locker room without a second thought.

Zach’s sitting on the bench by his locker, hunched over, surrounded by your dad, the team’s medic, and a few other players.

“Is everything okay?” you ask.

Zach looks up at you. His eyes are sunken, his lips parted. And then, he loses consciousness.

When his eyelids flutter open, the brightness of the room is so painful that he has to squint.

“He’s up,” he hears. It’s you. He hasn’t heard your voice in a while. He misses it.

He slowly comes to, realizing he’s in a hospital bed. You’re sitting to his left. The team medic is standing at the end of the bed with a doctor. He’s hooked up to an IV.

“What happened?” he rasps.

“You’re dehydrated,” the medic explains, leaning over to hand a plastic cup of water to Zach. “You’re at Trinity Hospital. You’re okay. Drink.”

Zach weakly picks it up, downing the cool water, his throat feeling raw. He rolls his head to look at you again. He knows it’s wrong, but he’s relieved that you look so concerned for him. That you’re here.

The doctor introduces herself, then explains that Zach was unconscious for so long that she’d prefer to keep him overnight to monitor him.

The news makes everything in him twist with worry and frustration. He just wants to go home. He doesn’t want Rafe to spiral.

“Okay,” he says. “I’m alright, though?”

“I’m not worried,” the doctor replies. “I just want to be sure you’re in good shape before I send you home.”

Within a few minutes, the doctor leaves the room. Then, the medic encourages Zach to drink more fluids, calls the coach to update him, and asks if you want to head back together now that you’re sure Zach’s okay.

You politely decline. You’re too worried to leave him alone so fast. And shortly after, it’s just you two in the room, listening to the beeps of Zach’s pulse.

“Dehydrated?” you say playfully, but still worried. “What the hell, Cameron?”

“I know,” he says with a smile. He regrets going hard at the gym today. He’s sure that’s what did it. “Rookie move.”

“I specifically told you to hydrate like, two days ago.”

Zach’s laugh is boyish. He reaches for your hand and squeezes. You remind yourself it’s likely nothing more than a friendly gesture.

“That was hangover advice,” he says. His thumb strokes over the back of your hand.

“It was life advice, actually.” You inhale slowly. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

He lets go of your hand, remembering you can hear his pulse right now and not wanting to risk you witnessing it beat faster.

“It was way more than two days ago, by the way,” he says. He threads his fingers through his hair, suddenly self-conscious of how bad he must look right now. “Where’ve you been?”

You look down at your lap. You’ve been declining all the invitations to hang out in the group chat because the past few days have been so confusing.

Seeing Zach with another girl was painful, and then, you realized just how unimportant you felt to him when he slept through your plans, even though it was by mistake. You need time and space to stop liking him before you can hang out again.

“School’s been kicking my ass,” you lie.

“Do you need help?” he asks. He’d do anything to have you around again.

“Leave it to you to be in a hospital bed asking if you can help,” you mumble. Zach laughs. You try and fail not to fawn over his perfect smile.

“Did I faint in front of everybody?” he says, fixing his hair again.

“Not everybody,” you half-laugh. “But, seriously, everyone was really worried. We all care about you a lot.”

His heart warms. He may be in the hospital, but right now, he’s grateful for having people who care about him. It’s all he ever wanted.

“Thanks for coming with me,” Zach says softly. “And for staying.”

You nod. You were so worried that you told your dad you were going with the paramedics when they arrived, not even considering that you had work to do, that Zach was already taken care of.

“Of course,” you reply. “You said you don’t like being alone, remember? In that dream you had?”

Zach huffs a laugh and looks away, embarrassed as he thinks about that night in the elevator, but still appreciative.

“Did anyone call my brother?” he asks.

“I texted him that I’m with you at the hospital. He hasn’t replied yet.”

Zach nods and thanks you. He tries not to fixate on the fact that you have Rafe’s number. He looks at the clock hanging on the wall to see it’s late in the evening. He figures Rafe’s out with friends or with a girl, not paying attention to his phone.

He wishes he could just talk to him. With every second that passes, he worries more and more about Rafe’s reaction to him being here.

“I should’ve grabbed your phone from the locker room so you could talk to him directly,” you say regretfully. “But I told Chance to get your things for you after the game. Is there anyone else I should contact?”

Admittedly, you’re bracing yourself for him to mention the girl from the other night. Or any girl, really. But he only shakes his head no.

A nurse comes in to remind you that visiting hours are up soon. Zach sits up, visibly on edge, asking her when he can have visitors tomorrow. She tells him 9 a.m.

Knowing he won’t be able to see his brother in person tonight makes him anxious.

After the nurse leaves, Zach frantically asks if he can send a voice-note to Rafe on your phone. You open the conversation and hand your phone to Zach, noticing the nervous way he’s chewing on his lip.

“Hey,” he says into the speaker. “It’s nothing. I passed out from dehydration and I’m at Trinity and they’re keeping me overnight just to be sure I’m good, but the doctor’s not worried.”

His eyes flit to you and he swallows hard.

“This is nothing like the last time, okay? I know your mind’s gonna go there and this is not even close,” he continues. “You can come see me at nine tomorrow. And you better bring me food.”

Zach ends the recording, sends it, and gives you back your phone.

“Thanks,” he breathes. You nod, your eyebrows knitting in confusion and worry.

“Sure,” you say. “Is there anything I can do?”

Zach scratches the back of his neck.

“When he answers, please tell him that you saw for yourself that I’m okay,” he says. “He might be a little freaked out.”

You agree, not wanting to pry, and start to collect your things. There’s no television in the room and you feel bad that Zach’ll be left alone with nothing to entertain him. You want to help.

You tell him you’ll be right back, then rush downstairs at a vending machine you saw when you came in. After, you drop by the gift shop. It’s closed, the flowers and balloons locked up, but you’re still able to pick up a book sitting on a rack.

You leave behind more than enough cash for the book on the counter and go back to Zach’s room.

“Snacks,” you say breathlessly when you enter, dropping the bags of chips and candy and the paperback on the bed, “and a book. Hopefully, this’ll keep you entertained. And don’t tell my dad about the junk food. You know how he is about an athlete’s diet.”

Zach smiles at you, his eyes soft. With everything you’ve done tonight, you could simply be showing what a good friend you are, but what if you feel something for him, too?

The mention of his coach is reminder enough of why he doesn’t pursue this. It could get messy. But maybe he should be more like his brother. Taking risks. Allowing himself to do what he wants to do.

“I should go,” you sigh, looking at the clock. “Feel better, okay? We don’t stand a chance of winning without you.”

He laughs, his eyes lingering on you.

“Thanks,” Zach says. You turn to leave. He stops you with a gentle, “Hey.”

You stop, turning back to look at him. Zach takes you in, how good he feels when you’re around, how there’s still a little bit of worry written into your cute features.

He won’t tell you that he wants to you to be his girlfriend. Not like this, when he’s hooked up to monitors, stuck in a bed. He’ll do it when he’s out of here. He’ll do it when he can hold your face in his hands and tell you how much you mean to him.

“Seriously, thank you,” he tells you. “You’re amazing.” You smile at him again. If only he knew how much his words mean to you.

“You’re welcome,” you say.

You’re pacing through the parking lot when your phone buzzes. It’s Rafe calling you. You answer quickly. He says your name, his voice strained.

“I’m here. Is it too late to see him?”

“Yeah, visiting hours are over. I’m just leaving now,” you say, looking around the dark lot in case you can spot him. “But, honestly, he’s okay.”

“Does he…” Rafe pauses. “I think I see you.”

You approach each other under the starry sky, meeting by a line of parked cars.

His eyes are glossy. He’s been crying. No wonder Zach was so worried. He must have known the effect this would have on his brother. There’s more to this than you realize.

“Hi,” you say softly, ending the call. “It’s okay. He’s acting totally like himself.”

“He doesn’t have his phone?”

“No,” you say. “But I made sure someone’ll pick his stuff up for him.”

“What happened?”

“Before the game tonight, he was in the locker room and he looked really tired,” you explain. “He passed out, but he was already sitting and someone caught him, so he didn’t hit his head or anything. They have him on an IV and drinking lots of fluids.”

“Okay,” he mutters. “Fuck. I was at a bar and I wasn’t checking my phone… I got into a cab as fast as I could.”

“It’s okay,” you console him. “He’s good. He was more worried about you than himself.”

Rafe sighs, hands on his hips as he looks down and paces back and forth, hair hanging over his head. You can hear him panting.

“He was worried about me?”

“Yeah.”

“What’d he say?” Rafe asks the question the same tense way he did the night of the party. He’s so closed off, clearly upset at the thought of you knowing anything he doesn’t want you to know.

“I heard the voice-note he sent you,” you admit, “and he said you might be freaked out, but he didn’t tell me anything else. I didn’t ask. It’s not my business.”

Rafe chews on his lip the same nervous way Zach does. For once, you see a similarity between them.

His breathing gets even shallower. He rests his hands on the rear window of the van parked next to him. His body curls forward. His skin is flushed.

You step a little closer, searching his face in the light of the lamps lining the parking lot. He’s distraught.

“Rafe,” you say quietly.

His stare is on the ground, his chest heaving now. Something bad has been triggered in him.

“Hey,” you say.

“You can go home now,” he mutters breathlessly.

“I’m not leaving you like this,” you say. You take a risk, placing a hand on his back, feeling it rise and fall quickly.

“I think you’re having a panic attack,” you say evenly. “I get that this is scary, but I promise you, everything’s okay. Zach is okay.”

Rafe’s chest is tight. His veins are made of ice. He feels like punching something. He hates this familiar loss of control, this shock of the world crumbling around him with no warning.

Yet while he thought that he’d hate someone touching him like this, that he’d hate being so vulnerable, he actually feels a little better.

You continue to rub his back, sweetly and tenderly. The touches he shares with girls are never like this. They’re always superficial, fuelled by lust. But this feels like real, sincere care.

“You took a cab here?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he rasps.

“Did you talk to the driver?”

“What?”

“Did you?” you say. “What kind of car was it?”

It’s all in an effort to distract him, and while Rafe stammers his way through his answers about the driver and the car and the bar he was at, you notice his breathing start to even out.

Minutes later, his heart isn’t racing as fast. His chest isn’t as tight. He can think clearer.

He’s embarrassed, but relieved you were here to talk him down before he ran into the hospital and demanded to see his brother. He now realizes how bad that could’ve gone.

“I don’t…” he stammers. He doesn’t know how to say that this doesn’t happen all that often, that this is a piece of him he typically buries deep from everyone.

“What?”

“You probably think I’m crazy.” Saying the word out loud hurts more than he expected. It’s what he’s felt all his life, that something isn’t wired right in his brain.

“No. I get it,” you say. You shake your head. “I mean, I don’t know what happened, but… I’m guessing he was in the hospital for something before, right?”

Rafe meets your eyes, straightening.

“I get why you’re freaked out,” you say. “I would be, too. Memories can mess with us.”

The way you just calmed him down, the sympathy in your tone, the alcohol swimming in his system are what push him to actually be honest with someone for once in a long time.

“We almost lost him,” he admits. “A long time ago.”

Your face falls in sorrow, eyes searching his face. He looks down at the ground, too uncomfortable to meet your gaze again.

“I almost lost him,” Rafe mumbles, his voice thin. Because, really, he knows he would’ve felt the loss the hardest. His brother is the most important person in his life. Always has been.

And to lose him, someone so irreplaceable, someone he was with from the moment he was a living thing, would kill him. Zach’s right, even though he’s joking, that Rafe doesn’t tell him he loves him enough.

“I’m so sorry,” you say. “How old were you?”

“Fourteen,” Rafe says.

It was mere months after their mother abandoned them, saying she couldn’t stay with their father anymore, that she did everything she could do as a mom, that she was done.

It left a hole in Rafe that he feels every day. If Zach feels it, he does an incredible job hiding it.

He still doesn’t know what the final straw was. Why fourteen years of her sons’ lives was enough for her. How could a parent decide that they had enough of their kids forever?

She wasn’t the best mom, unpredictable and erratic, but he loved her. There had to be something wrong with her mind for her to act like that. To leave. Something that Rafe is sure skipped Zach and was passed on to him.

“That’s so young,” you say sadly.

“He was really sick for a while.” Rafe’s heart twists thinking about it.

How a freak case of pneumonia had Zach bedridden, his lungs fighting to keep breathing. How mad Rafe was at his brother, as if he did it on purpose. How sure he was that in some twisted way, his mother’s sudden abandonment triggered it.

He still regrets how he acted when Zach was discharged. He couldn’t talk to him for days. He was too angry for scaring him into thinking he was going to lose his best friend, his anchor.

“How long?” you ask.

“Weeks,” Rafe tells you. “And you know Zach. He kept telling everyone he was fine. Even as a kid, he didn’t want people to worry about him.”

“He is like that, isn’t he?” you say with a soft chuckle. Since you met Zach, you quickly learned he dismisses any notion of needing any sort of help. “But I promise, this isn’t one of those cases. I saw for myself. He’s good. I wouldn’t lie about that.”

Rafe nods quickly, finally looking at you.

“You’ll see him tomorrow,” you say with a small smile, sad but touched that he opened up to you like this. “Until then, just try to relax.”

Rafe loves the feeling of your hand on him. He can’t remember the last time he loved someone’s touch. If he ever even did.

He’s keeping his promise to Zach. He won’t hook up with you. Because he wants more than that. He wants to know you and for you to know him. He wants you to stay the night, every night. He wants you to be his.

And he needs to be sure you don’t feel anything for his brother.

“Are you and him…” He swallows hard. “Is there anything there?”

Your forehead crinkles in confusion. Zach had told you that his brother was his best friend. You’re sure he would’ve told him if he felt something for you.

If he has to ask, Zach must not talk about you much at all. You’re nothing but a friend to him. Although you do have feelings for him, you were right to be apprehensive from the start. He doesn’t like you like that.

“No,” you finally say.

Rafe nods. At least there’s no unrequited feelings on either side. He must have been reading into things, imagining you looking at his brother a certain way.

“You wanna grab some food?” Rafe asks impulsively.

You agree. Right now, there’s nothing else you’d rather do.

Rafe’s been on a handful of dates before, but sitting across from you at a quiet late-night diner, sobering up, getting to know you more and more makes him feel like he’s living in a dream.

He’s never felt this way about a girl before. Scared in a good way. Slowly, he opens up little by little, peeling back layers of the wall he’s been hiding behind for years.

He shares what happened with his mom. How Zach was the strong one, while Rafe acted out and made his life hell. You take in every word, seeing just how much guilt and shame and pain he carries around.

You open up, too, sharing things you don’t tell many people. He’s a good listener, and the eyes you thought didn’t have much hope behind them at first aren’t cold at all by the end of the night.

It’s one in the morning when you part ways. Rafe shares a cab with you, making sure you get dropped off first, watching you step through the front door.

Everything in him wants to invite you to his place, but things are going to be different with you. He won’t rush into numbing himself with sex like he always does, because he refuses to be numb or absent or checked out with you in any way.

────୨ৎ────

“What kind of grown man forgets to drink water?”

Zach looks up from his orange juice to see Rafe walking into his hospital room.

He chuckles, asking Rafe not to give him shit for this because you already did. The mention of your name makes Rafe’s heart feel lighter in this tense moment.

Because of how good it felt to be so open with you last night, expressing just how important Zach is to him, remembering everything they’d gone through together, Rafe doesn’t shy away from leaning over to hug his brother, who stiffens in his bed.

“Uh, good morning to you, too?” Zach laughs. “Is this a hug? What the hell? Who are you?”

“I love you, too,” Rafe mumbles, pulling back and holding up a paper bag of breakfast for him. “And I got you your food, princess.”

“You try eating hospital food,” Zach replies, taking the bag, feeling ravenous.

Rafe settles on the chair, remembering his brother at fourteen, picking apart at the food they served him with a look of disgust, yet telling the nurses ‘it’s good, thank you’ when they asked if he was enjoying his meal.

Rafe urged his dad to bring his brother home-cooked food almost every day of his hospital stay. It was one of the little ways he showed up for Zach, taking care of him instead of the other way around for once.

“What’d the doctor say?” Rafe asks. “Do you feel better?”

“She hasn’t come to see me yet, but I feel totally fine.” Zach digs into his breakfast. “How are you?”

Rafe looks down at his lap, sighing before he speaks.

“I freaked out,” Rafe admits. Zach stills. “She told me you said I would and you were right. But, man… she knew exactly what to do.”

“It happened when you were with her?” Zach knows what Rafe’s breakdowns look like. He has full-blown panic attacks. He’s nearly inconsolable. He wonders how jarring that must have been for you.

“Out in the parking lot,” he says. “It was just too much. All that shit came rushing back.”

Rafe shrugs, defeated. Sometimes, he’s able to give into the fact that he can do nothing but surrender to the chaos in his mind. He felt safe doing it in front of you last night. He felt safe every second he was with you.

“Are you okay now?” Zach asks. He notices the hint of a smile in Rafe’s face. A brightness he hasn’t seen in him in a long time.

“Yeah,” Rafe says. “I gotta ask you something, though.”

“What?”

“Does ‘off limits’ mean I can’t date her?”

“Date her?” Zach repeats, in disbelief. “You want to date her? Like, commit to her? You don’t commit to anyone.”

Rafe breathes a chuckle, pursing his lips.

“Well, now, I want to.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah.”

Rafe looks like he got rid of a ten-ton weight that was sitting on his shoulders. He’s relaxed. He’s content. Zach can’t remember the last time he saw him like this.

Zach became hyperaware of other people’s emotions at a young age. When their parents would argue, he saw what it did to Rafe, who would shut down and lash out. Zach would distract his brother in every way he could.

Then their mom left and it became ten times harder to keep Rafe steady. But Zach did it and he never stopped trying. Because helping others, putting their feelings first, really does make Zach happy.

But right now, he feels really far from happy.

He looks down at his food. He had it all planned out. He’d get in his best clothes, find a nice place to take you, give you a whole speech about how he hasn’t stopped thinking about you for days and how happy you make him and how happy he could make you.

“She feels the same way? Did something happen between you?” Zach asks. His chest is a hole. A pit.

“Nothing happened,” Rafe says, scratching the back of his neck.

It was nearly impossible for Rafe not to give into the impulse to hold your hand in the booth you sat at together last night and tell you how pretty you are and how much fun he has with you.

But he really does want to be a better person. He wants to think before he acts. And that means checking in with Zach that he’s okay with this, considering how tense he is about Rafe getting involved with his friends.

“But I think she might like me, too,” Rafe says. “And I made sure she’s not into you. I guess I was just reading into stuff before.”

That’s the moment Zach’s heart breaks. He licks his lips, his stare low. So, you would’ve just rejected him.

“You really like her?” he asks after a moment.

“Yeah,” Rafe says.

“Why?”

“Don’t make me be corny,” he groans.

Zach’s head is pounding. He wants to be mad at Rafe. But he had so many opportunities to tell him that he likes you, and he was too chicken to admit it. And now, his brother is falling for you. And he looks so happy doing it.

“You’re gonna have to be corny,” Zach says. “I need to be sure you’re not just messing around.”

Rafe sighs. It’s always Zach doing this, gushing over a girl, freaking out over if she hasn’t texted him back, getting all nervous before a date. Rafe used to tease him about it. He gets it now, though.

“You suck,” Rafe scoffs, tensing up. It’s hard for him to talk like this, but he forces the words out. “I don’t know. I like who I am when I’m around her. And it’s… when she’s in the room, everything’s better, you know?”

“Yeah,” Zach says. He knows. He feels the exact same way.

“Is that corny enough for you?” Rafe says with a scoff. “Are you cool with this or no?”

Zach chews his food slowly only to buy time before he has to speak again. He’s trying to act unbothered and it’s working, considering how in the clouds Rafe seems.

He has no idea that Zach is falling for you. Because he’s too busy doing it, too.

He meets his brother’s eyes. He takes a deep breath. And, because Rafe’s happiness has always been more important to him than his own, he gives him his blessing.

“Go for it,” Zach says. “And don’t hurt her.”

He’s never felt so bitter. He hates that he hopes you’ll have a change of heart. He hates that he feels like he’d treat you better. He hates all of this. But he stays silent.

────୨ৎ────

You’re having a late breakfast when Zach replies to your text asking to keep you updated.

Doctor cleared me. I’m home and I got my stuff from Chance. Thanks for everything.

His message is cold compared to how he usually texts. But maybe he’s just tired from the hospital stay.

You gaze out your window, thinking about everything that happened last night. Rafe isn’t as different from Zach as you first thought. Behind his hard exterior, he’s sensitive and gentle and so badly wants to be loved.

He confessed to feeling like something was missing in him since he can remember. The look in his eyes when you told him that to you, he seems perfectly whole, is one you won’t forget.

Being with him for hours was a wonderful haze. You didn’t want to part. He made you feel heard. It’s a joy that you’ve been lacking for a long time.

Minutes later, Rafe texts you asking if he can take you out to dinner tonight. You smile at your screen. You love how you don’t have to wonder about if he wants you.

The restaurant he drives you to is lavish and elegant. Rafe is unbelievably handsome across the table over the candlelight, his dark button-up making his eyes look all the more blue. Your stomach is full of butterflies, yet a sense of calm fills you when you’re with him.

You pick up where you left off, conversation flowing without any effort. He looks at you like you put the stars in the sky. You’re sure you look at him the same way.

When Rafe pulls the car up to your place, in an effort to keep you from leaving right away, he presses his palm against the back of your hand.

“Did you have a good time?” he asks, tone low, adorably nervous.

“Of course. Did you?”

Rafe chuckles at the question. Good doesn’t begin to cover it.

“You’re…” he begins.

“I’m what?” you laugh.

He squeezes your hand gently, turning it so he can lace his fingers with yours. The contact is warm, his ring hard but smooth against your skin. Your heart pounds in your ears as he stares at you.

“Beautiful,” he says. “In every way.”

His tone is sincere and firm. He says it like it’s a fact.

“And I want to keep doing this,” he says. “Seeing you. If you want to keep seeing me, too.”

“I do,” you say. When he leans forward, his kiss is soft but hungry, making your mind spin.

Zach fakes a headache when Rafe gets home. All he needs to hear is that the date went well. He doesn’t want the details.

────୨ৎ────

You’re wrapped in Rafe’s arms, your back flush against his chest, as music and chatter float through the air around you.

You’re settled on his couch, talking with your friends as the party rages. Rafe’s still getting used to what it means to be a boyfriend, tense and quiet around your friends, but he’d get used to anything if it meant making you happy.

You’ve only been dating a few weeks, but he’s sure if this isn’t love, he’s damn close to it. Aside from his brother, you’re his best friend.

You smile when you feel Rafe’s lips press against the side of your neck. He’s ridiculously affectionate, touching you whenever he can, spoiling you, whispering sweet things to you all the time. He’s completely unguarded.

Zach’s in the kitchen, as far away from you as he physically can be. After the hospital, he hasn’t been himself at all. You can tell he’s trying to be, though, forcing smiles around you.

It makes no sense. He called you amazing that night. But, then, he pulled away. It’s like he’s mad at you for dating his brother, but he refuses to admit it.

You’ve asked him multiple times if things are good between you. He reassured you over and over that they are.

Maybe someone else would believe him, but after you pined for him for so long, you can read when he’s trying to hide that he’s upset. At parties, at casual get-togethers, even at work when you’re making content for the team, he’s absent-minded and disinterested.

And whatever’s wrong, he prefers to hold inside.

Nonetheless, while your feelings for Zach have faded, you genuinely hope he’s happy and that you can be friends with him again one day.

The next morning, you wake up in Rafe’s bed. His arm is around your waist, his breath warm against your back. He’s still snoozing when you slip out of bed to get water.

Zach’s sitting at the kitchen island, staring down at his coffee. It’s almost funny how just over three months ago, you were here for the first time, yearning for Zach to give you a hint that he liked you. Now, you’re falling for Rafe.

“Morning,” you say kindly.

Zach looks up from his coffee. His smile doesn’t meet his eyes.

“Hey.”

You open the fridge, the awful feeling he’s been giving you lately sitting heavy on your heart. He makes you feel unwelcome, which is something you never expected from him.

“Just getting some water,” you say, searching through the shelves. “He’s definitely gonna wake up with a headache.”

Zach tenses. You’re doing for Rafe what he daydreamed you doing for him. Sharing a bed with him, nursing his hangover, touching him and smiling at him and giving him what Zach would die for.

You look so pretty in the morning, your bedhead adorable, your pajamas complimenting your figure. Why won’t his heart just catch up with his mind? He keeps telling himself to get over you.

He notices that you have Rafe’s ring on your finger. He used to imagine you wearing his things. He’d love to see you in his team hoodie. But he never will.

In another world, you’re in this kitchen as his girlfriend, talking about last night’s party, sharing kisses and laughs. But not in this world.

“I never asked you,” you say, your back to him, “how was that book I got you?”

You hope it serves as a reminder for how much you did for him and how much you care about him. It hurts, the way he’s been keeping you at a distance.

Late at night, as your mind drifts away from you when you try to fall asleep, you’ve considered the possibility of Zach being upset because he’s jealous of Rafe and wants to be with you.

But Rafe told you he checked with Zach to make sure your relationship was okay with him and he even said he didn’t feel anything for you. Maybe Zach thinks you’re not good enough for his brother and he’s too nice to actually say it out loud.

“Good,” Zach says.

You grab two water bottles and close the fridge door. One word is all he’s willing to say to you.

You can’t do it again. You can’t ask him for the hundredth time if you did something wrong, just for him to say you didn’t and he’s sorry that he made you feel like you did.

You leave him alone in the kitchen, padding up the stairs. Zach looks down at his coffee again. His eyes are starting to burn with tears.

He wants to remind his brother that they agreed they wouldn’t let people overstay. And you being here for even one night feels like overstaying. He can’t have you and every time he’s reminded of that, it hurts.

He can’t stop thinking about that night in the elevator and wishing that instead of drunkenly rambling about his brother, he rambled about his feelings for you. At least then, everything would have been out in the open long before you really got to know Rafe.

The girl he met through the video messaged him last night, asking if he was up to hang out again. She’s cute and nice. But she’s not you. And it’d be wrong to pursue someone just to numb the pain of not having you.

That’s all he wants. You. And because he was such a coward, he’ll never have you. Maybe at some point, he had a chance. Maybe you would have grown feelings for him if he was honest with you.

But you seem happy. So does Rafe, who actually wants hold you and kiss you in public. He was never like that with any other girl.

Zach realizes that while he was always so sure he coped with everything that life hurled at them better than Rafe, he wasn’t paying attention to how destructive he is to himself. His martyrdom was never a virtue.

He’s too late. He self-sabotaged. He has nobody to blame for his aching loneliness but himself. That’s the most heartbreaking part of this whole thing.

Rafe’s hair is tousled, his smile lazy when you come back to bed.

“Thought you left me,” he murmurs tiredly into your hair, pulling you tight against his warm body. You smile, your cheek pressed against his chest, breathing in his comforting scent.

Rafe’s sure you can feel his pulse on your cheek. He feels like you own every beat of his heart.

“I wouldn’t leave you,” you tell him.

The tension from what happened downstairs leaves your system. You swallow down the tears that threatened to fall when you left the kitchen.

You plant a kiss on Rafe’s chest. You know where you’re wanted. And you’re happiest staying there.

(the end)

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[ducktoo]

Syncing Dream [Aespa x M!Reader]

11. Gym-selle life

Note: Enjoy the fluff!

It was a rare, calm afternoon at SM’s gym, and Y/n found himself with some unexpected free time. After that incident, he decided that his small frame wasn't cut it for this line of work. So, he started hitting the gym.

And it was always best to do a workout on a free day.

No schedules, no urgent texts from the group, and no chaotic last-minute changes—just peace. But peace didn’t seem to last long, not with Giselle around.

“Hey, boss baby,” Giselle’s voice rang out as she walked into the gym, a sly grin plastered on her face. She was dressed in her workout gear, hair tied up in a messy bun. “I heard you were looking for someone to train with.”

Y/n, who had been lazily scrolling through his phone while sitting on a bench, raised an eyebrow. “…Was I?”

“Well, you are now,” she declared, grabbing a mat and plopping it down next to him. “Come on, let’s do a workout together. I’ve got some steam to blow off, and you could use the exercise.”

Y/n snorted. “I do exercise, Aeri”

“You walk us from the van to the stage. That doesn’t count.”

“Hey, there’s a lot more to my job than that,” Y/n shot back, standing up to stretch. “Besides, I’m not that out of shape.”

Giselle crossed her arms and eyed him suspiciously. “Really? Because I’m pretty sure the last time you ran, you were dead after a flight of stairs.”

Y/n’s mouth opened, ready to argue, but he couldn’t exactly deny the truth. “Okay, fine. But that doesn’t mean I can’t keep up.”

“Prove it then,” she said with a challenging glint in her eyes. “Let’s do some cardio, weights, and maybe a bit of core. Think you can handle it?”

“Oh, don’t test me, Uchinaga” Y/n said, rolling up his sleeves and drove both of them to the gym.

-

The first few sets went as expected.

Y/n kept up with Giselle through the warm-up—jumping jacks, a bit of light jogging, and stretches. He felt confident. Too confident.

But as soon as Giselle cranked up the intensity with high-knees and burpees, Y/n quickly realised he might have bitten off more than he could chew.

“Fcking hell, you... do this... often?” Y/n panted, trying to catch his breath between sets. His legs were already feeling the burn, and they hadn’t even started with the weights yet.

Giselle, barely breaking a sweat, looked over at him with a smirk. “I’m fine, Y/n. You good?”

“Never better,” Y/n grunted, wiping the sweat from his brow and forcing himself to keep up. He wasn’t about to let Giselle think he couldn’t handle it.

The next part of the workout involved weights, and Y/n felt slightly more confident. He had done some weight training before—how hard could it be?

The answer: very.

Giselle lifted with ease, moving through reps with the kind of strength that made Y/n wonder if she had secretly been training for a boxing match. Meanwhile, he was struggling to maintain his form without collapsing under the weight.

“Come on, Y/n, you got this!” Giselle teased, watching him wobble as he tried to do a squat with a barbell. “You’re not gonna let me out-lift you, are you?”

Y/n gritted his teeth, determined to push through the pain. “Hell no.”

But by the time they got to the core workout—planks, sit-ups, and leg raises—Y/n was just about ready to tap out. He collapsed onto the mat, staring up at the ceiling as his abs screamed in protest.

Giselle, still full of energy, laughed and nudged him with her foot. “Tired already?”

“Damn…right I….am..,” Y/n wheezed, still flat on the ground. “Just... Gonna catch my breath.”

“Sure,” she chuckled, rolling her eyes. “Let’s cool down, then.”

-

After finishing up the workout, Giselle led Y/n through some stretches, and thankfully, they were much more manageable than the burpees. The two of them stretched in comfortable silence for a while, the intensity of the workout replaced by a relaxed atmosphere.

“I gotta admit,” Y/n said, still a bit breathless, “you’re in way better shape than I thought.”

“You expected me to be weak or something?” Giselle asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Not at all,” Y/n replied quickly. “It’s just... I didn’t expect you to be that strong. I’m impressed.”

“Well, we do have to keep up with choreography and performances,” she pointed out, grinning. “Plus, I like staying fit. Makes me feel good.”

“I can see why,” Y/n mumbled, rubbing his sore arms. “You almost killed me out there.”

Giselle laughed. “You’re just out of practice. But don’t worry, I’ll whip you into shape in no time. You’re gonna be running laps around the rest of us soon.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “You sound like you’re planning to make this a regular thing.”

“Of course I am,” Giselle said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re officially my new workout buddy. So, no more slacking off.”

Y/n groaned but couldn’t help smiling. “Great. I’m doomed.”

Giselle just grinned, clearly pleased with herself. “You’ll thank me later.”

“Sureeeee” Y/n remained sceptical, but complied nonetheless.

-

After their workout, the two of them decided to reward themselves with a cheat meal. They headed to a nearby café, ordering some well-deserved food to replenish their energy.

As they dug into their sandwiches, Y/n leaned back in his chair, finally feeling the soreness in his muscles set in. “I’m not gonna be able to move tomorrow, am I?”

“Probably not,” Giselle replied nonchalantly. “But that’s how you know it’s working.”

Y/n rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t help but smile. “You’re evil, you know that?”

“Hey, you agreed to this.”

“Regretting it already,” Y/n muttered, taking a bite of his sandwich. “But thanks, Aeri. I do need to train after that happened.”

"I should say thanks instead, Y/n" Giselle smiled. "You looked surprisingly cool back there."

"No it wasn't. But at least it drives me to hit the gym" He chowed down his well-deserved burger.

She waved him off. “No problem. It was fun.”

The two sat in comfortable silence for a while, the post-workout exhaustion settling in. It was moments like these—just relaxing and sharing a meal—that reminded Y/n how much he appreciated his job. Sure, it was chaotic and exhausting at times, but he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

As they finished their food, Giselle glanced over at him, a mischievous look in her eyes. “Same time next week?”

Y/n groaned, but the smile on his face gave him away. “Fine. But next time, I’m picking the workout.”

“Deal,” Giselle grinned, already looking forward to their next session.

-

A few months had passed since Y/n’s “death by burpees” workout with Giselle. He had committed to their regular gym sessions, despite his initial reluctance. Cardio, strength training, and core work had slowly started to pay off. His stamina improved, muscles grew, and even his posture became more confident. However, Y/n didn’t give much thought to his own progress. To him, it was just about keeping up with the girls and doing his job better.

But aespa had definitely noticed.

One afternoon, while Y/n was grabbing some water bottles for the group, Winter’s voice broke through the chatter.

“Wait—when did this happen?” she asked, her brow furrowed in confusion as she stared at Y/n.

“Happen? What?” Y/n responded, blinking in confusion.

“This!” Winter gestured dramatically towards him, like she was pointing out something obvious. “Idiot. You’re... like... buff now.”

Karina, who had been mid-stretch, stopped and glanced up. “Oh my God, she’s right.” She sat up straighter, her eyes scanning his form. “Wow, you’ve definitely been working out.”

Giselle, not one to miss a chance to brag, gave a smug grin from her spot by the mirrors. “Told you I’d get him in shape.”

Y/n shrugged awkwardly, not used to being the centre of attention. “It’s just a bit of working out,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck. “Nothing crazy. Just training to get stronger, you know?”

Winter stood up, her eyes scrutinising him with exaggerated intensity. “No, seriously. When did you get all... strong? What are you eating?”

Ningning, having missed the start of the conversation, wandered over. “What’s going on?”

“Y/n’s been hitting the gym,” Karina explained with a chuckle. “And apparently, he’s swole now.”

Ningning raised an eyebrow, walking up to Y/n and poking his arm experimentally. “Whoa. You’ve been hiding this under all those hoodies?”

Y/n groaned, quickly becoming flustered. “It’s just some muscle, nothing worth—”

“Nope, this is big news,” Ningning interrupted, laughing as she continued to poke him. “You’re all buff now, which means you’re finally ready for me to set you up with someone.”

Y/n blinked, taken aback. “…Dafug? You what now?”

Ningning grinned mischievously. “You know, now that you’ve had a glow-up, I can totally help you get a date. I know tons of cute girls. Heck, we can set you up with Seulgi-unnie for the lols.”

Karina and Giselle burst into laughter, clearly entertained by Ningning’s playful matchmaking attempt.

“Oh, this is going to be good,” Karina teased, sitting back to watch the chaos unfold. “Let’s see who she has in mind.”

Y/n felt his face heat up, shaking his head vigorously. “Ok, please don—”

“Come on,” Ningning pressed, clearly enjoying his embarrassment. “I’ve got connections. You won’t have to stay single forever.”

Before Y/n could protest further, Winter, who had been watching the entire exchange with an unreadable expression, suddenly spoke up.

“He doesn’t need your help, Ning,” Winter said, crossing her arms and stepping forward. “He’s fine as he is.”

Everyone turned to look at her, the room going silent for a moment. Winter’s tone was oddly defensive, and it wasn’t long before Karina and Giselle exchanged knowing glances, their lips curving into mischievous grins.

“Oh?” Karina said, eyes glinting with amusement. “Minjeong-ssi, are you... jealous?”

Winter’s eyes widened in alarm. “What? No! I’m just saying—he doesn’t need her to—”

“Yeah, sure,” Giselle cut in, smirking. “That sounded totally platonic.”

Winter’s face turned pink as she struggled to find the right words. “I-I didn’t mean it like that!”

Ningning, ever the troublemaker, immediately pounced on the opportunity. “Ooooh, I see what’s happening here,” she teased, her grin widening. “Minjeong-unnie doesn’t want anyone else setting Y/n up because *she* wants to do it herself.”

“Stop twisting my words!” Winter protested, her blush deepening as she glared at Ningning.

Y/n, caught in the middle of the teasing, could only stand there, his eyes wide as the girls ganged up on Winter.

“Ya, this isn’t—” he started to say, but his words were drowned out by the escalating laughter.

“You’re blushing,” Karina pointed out, clearly enjoying the show. “It’s cute.”

“I am not!” Winter huffed, her arms tightening across her chest defensively. “You’re all ridiculous.”

The teasing only got worse from there.

“Don’t worry, unnie,” Ningning said with a wink. “If you want Y/n to stay single, all you have to do is ask.”

“I don’t want that!” Winter groaned, covering her face with her hands. “Can we just move on?”

Giselle, still laughing, patted Winter on the back. “Hey, no need to be shy. It’s okay to admit you care.”

“Ugh, you guys are the worst,” Winter muttered, her voice muffled behind her hands.

Y/n, meanwhile, was doing his best to keep his own blush under control. He had never seen Winter get this flustered before, and while he didn’t want to make things more awkward for her, the situation was undeniably hilarious.

After a few more minutes of relentless teasing, Karina finally took pity on Winter and waved her hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, let’s give her a break before she explodes.”

Winter peeked out from behind her hands, her face still red but visibly relieved. “Thank you.”

But Ningning wasn’t done just yet. “So, if Winter doesn’t want me to set Y/n up... does that mean she’s volunteering?”

“Okay, that’s it,” Winter groaned, grabbing a pillow from the nearby couch and tossing it at Ningning’s face. “We’re done talking about this!”

Laughter erupted once again as Ningning dodged the pillow, her grin as wide as ever. “Fine, fine! But just know, I’m always available for matchmaking if you change your mind, Y/n.”

Y/n let out a sigh, shaking his head with a chuckle. “I think I’ll pass.”

-

After the chaos of teasing finally died down and everyone had settled back into their routines, Y/n found himself replaying the conversation in his head.

He knew the girls liked to mess around, but the way Winter had reacted earlier... it left him with a strange, fluttery feeling in his chest. He wasn’t sure what to make of it. Was it just the usual banter, or was there something more behind her defensiveness?

As he helped pack up the practice room for the day, Winter approached him, her expression noticeably less flustered now that the teasing had subsided.

“Sorry about earlier,” she said quietly, glancing away. “They can be a bit... annoying sometimes.”

Y/n smiled softly. “Ehhh… I’m used to it by now. Got that every day.”

Winter nodded, her gaze still avoiding his. “I just didn’t want them making things weird for you. Ningning has a habit of taking things too far.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he reassured her. “Thanks for stepping in.”

She glanced up at him then, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Anytime.”

For a brief moment, the two stood there in comfortable silence, the noise of the others packing up in the background. And while neither of them said anything more, there was an unspoken understanding between them—one that Y/n couldn’t quite put into words but felt all the same.

As they left the practice room that evening, Y/n couldn’t help but wonder if things between him and Winter were changing.

Maybe. Just maybe.

And if they were? Well... he wasn’t entirely against it.

-

The next workout session was supposed to be business as usual—just Y/n and Giselle hitting the gym like they had been doing for months. It had become a routine, something Y/n had grown to not only accept but almost look forward to, despite the occasional grumbling when Giselle pushed him a bit too hard.

But today, something was different. Or someone was.

As Y/n and Giselle entered the company gym, stretching and preparing for another gruelling session, a familiar face strolled in behind them—Winter.

“Wait,” Y/n blinked, watching as Winter tossed her bag down by the mats. “Jeong, what are you doing here?”

Winter shrugged, acting nonchalant, though there was an unmistakable determination in her eyes. “What? Can’t I join you guys? I don’t always want to be the homebody, you know.”

Giselle smirked, clearly entertained. “You? Winter? At the gym? Voluntarily?”

Winter rolled her eyes but smiled, crossing her arms. “Don’t sound so surprised. I’ve worked out before.”

“Yeah,” Giselle teased, “but your ‘workout’ is walking to the kitchen for snacks.”

“She’s right, you know?” Y/n chuckled, stretching his arms behind his head. “I’ve never seen you step foot in the gym before.”

“Well,” Winter huffed, glancing between the two of them, “today’s a new day. I figured I should at least see what all the fuss is about since you two keep talking about it.”

Giselle raised an eyebrow, amused by Winter’s sudden enthusiasm. “Uh-huh. And this doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that everyone was teasing you about Y/n yesterday, right?”

Winter’s eyes widened, her face flushing as she shook her head. “No! It has nothing to do with that! I just... wanted to try it, okay?”

Y/n bit back a grin, not wanting to embarrass Winter any further. “Well, if you’re serious about joining us, uhhh welcome.”

“Great,” Winter said, a little too quickly, as she avoided eye contact. “Let’s do this.”

-

“Why do I feel like I’m dying?” Winter panted, clutching her side as she bent over, trying to catch her breath.

“That’s because you are.” Y/n deadpanned.

“Shut…up, Jung Y/n.”

Giselle, barely breaking a sweat, glanced down at Winter with a smirk. “Told you it wasn’t going to be easy. Welcome to gym life.”

Y/n tried to suppress his laugh as he wiped his forehead with a towel. Winter had gamely joined in on their usual warm-up routine, but it was clear she wasn’t used to this kind of intense exercise. While she might have been an idol, used to dancing and rehearsing for hours, the focused, relentless pace of their workout had caught her off guard.

Winter shot him a look, narrowing her eyes. “You think this is funny?”

Y/n raised his hands in mock surrender, still smiling. “Damn right, it is.”

“You’re such a piece of bull,” she muttered, straightening up and stretching her arms over her head. “I thought I was in good shape... but this is torture.”

Giselle grinned, tapping her on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it. Besides, it’s good to switch things up every now and then.”

Winter groaned but nodded. “I guess.”

Y/n couldn’t help but admire her determination. Despite her complaints, she hadn’t given up, and in a way, it reminded him of his own early days at the gym—awkward, out of breath, but still pushing through.

“Alright, let’s get back to it,” Giselle said, clapping her hands together. “Next up, we’ve got some core work. You ready, Winter?”

Winter hesitated, glancing at Y/n. “Do I have a choice?”

“Nope,” Y/n said with a grin, grabbing his water bottle. “You’re stuck with us now.”

-

After a gruelling session that left even Y/n feeling the burn, the three of them finally headed back to the dorm. Winter had survived—barely—and while she complained the entire walk back, Y/n could tell she was secretly proud of herself for sticking it out.

As they reached the dorm entrance, Winter paused, stretching her arms again. “I’m never doing that again.”

“Oh, come on,” Giselle teased, unlocking the door. “You loved it.”

Winter shot her a glare. “My body says otherwise.”

As they stepped inside, they were greeted by Karina and Ningning lounging on the couch, looking far too comfortable for Y/n’s liking.

Ningning was the first to notice their return, her eyes lighting up with mischief as she sat up. “Well, well, well. Look who’s finally joining the fitness squad.”

Karina raised an eyebrow. “Minjeong, you? At the gym?”

Winter groaned, flopping onto the couch beside her. “Yes, and I regret every second of it.”

Giselle snickered, tossing her bag aside. “She did pretty well, considering she’s not used to it.”

“Used to what?” Ningning asked, looking between them.

“Working out with us,” Y/n explained, grabbing a seat in the nearby armchair. “Minjeong joined our gym session today.”

Karina blinked in surprise, then smirked. “And lived to tell the tale?”

“Barely,” Winter muttered, slumping against the cushions. “I don’t know how you guys do that every week.”

Ningning’s eyes lit up again, clearly not about to let this opportunity pass. “You’re just trying to keep up with Y/n, aren’t you?”

Winter immediately sat up, glaring at Ningning. “No! I just... wanted to try something different.”

Ningning’s grin only widened. “Suuuure. You weren’t worried about someone else setting him up with a date or anything, right?”

Winter’s face turned red as she scrambled for a response, but before she could defend herself, Karina and Giselle burst out laughing, joining in on the teasing.

“Not this again,” Winter groaned, burying her face in her hands. “I’m never going to hear the end of this, am I?”

“Nope,” Ningning said cheerfully, patting her on the back. “But hey, at least you survived the workout.”

Y/n, watching the chaos unfold, couldn’t help but smile. It was good to see Winter come out of her comfort zone, even if it was for something as simple as a workout. And despite all the teasing, there was a warmth to the way the girls interacted—an unspoken understanding that they were all in this together, through thick and thin.

As the laughter died down and everyone settled into their usual spots, Y/n found himself glancing over at Winter. She caught his eye for a brief moment, and though her cheeks were still pink from the teasing, she offered him a small smile.

Maybe she wouldn’t become a gym regular like Giselle, but the fact that she had joined them—even if just for a day—was enough.

“Next time,” Y/n said, raising his water bottle, “I’ll go easy on you.”

Winter groaned again but smiled. “You better.”

“Actually. Nah. It’s funnier seeing you suffer.”

“YA-“

[amorisxx]

Dad’s Day with Donuts 🍩

Pairings: Patrick x Tashi x Art, dad!Patrick x Lily Summary: Patrick wonders how he fits into the Donaldson family. a/n: I randomly had this idea and just had to write it down.

After Patrick has moved out of the guesthouse and into the main house, he still struggles to feel like he actually belongs there. Though he, Tashi, and Art have started to figure their shit out, it still feels a bit awkward when he’s sitting at the dinner table with them and Lily. He can’t help the feeling that he might be encroaching on the Duncan-Donaldson family.

He offers to clean up after dinner, taking his time to wash each dish in order to avoid waiting while Lily’s parents tuck her in. Because that’s who Tashi and Art are—her parents. Patrick’s not sure who or what he is.

He knows that Lily calls him Uncle Patrick now, and that she likes to watch Spider-verse with him. She thinks it’s funny when Patrick makes faces behind Tashi’s back or sticks out his tongue when she corrects his tennis. She likes that he remembers her stuffed animals’ names, even though she’s only told him once. He refers to each one by name.

Earlier that day, he’d reminded her to go get “Octavia” so that she wouldn’t miss this scene in the movie they’re watching. She giggled and ran to her room to get the stuffed octopus while Patrick offered to pause the TV. Tashi shook her head as she walked by on her way to the kitchen, but there’s a small smile on her face.

Lily falls asleep halfway through the movie. She wakes up wondering where Uncle Patrick went when she doesn’t see him. Art tells her that he had to go practice with mommy but reassures her that he’ll be back for dinner.

Now, Patrick stands at the kitchen sink, drying ceramic plates and wondering where he fits in. Does Lily see him as a fun live-in uncle? Or does she see him as another parent figure? Is that even what he wants to be? He knew it would be difficult to join a couple who had their own child, but he wasn’t prepared for how much this would worry him.

The sound of soft footsteps pulls him from his mind. He looks over to see Tashi leaning against the doorway expectantly.

Patrick tosses her a questioning look and she sighs before saying, “Lily wants to ask you something.”

Patrick isn’t sure what to think about this, but he finds himself dropping the kitchen towel onto the counter and following Tashi up the stairs anyway. Once they’re at Lily’s room, Patrick stops in the doorway.

Art is propped against Lily’s headboard and pillows, legs crossed at the ankles, as Lily bounces on her knees, rambling about what she wants to do tomorrow.

Tashi’s knuckle comes up to nudge him in the back lightly, and Patrick makes his way inside the room. Art’s eyes flicker up to his face with a smile that’s very similar to the one Lily is wearing.

He clears his throat, “so Lily’s school has this thing called Dad’s Day with Donuts.”

Patrick furrows his eyebrows. So, Art continues, “most of the kids bring their dads, but sometimes, for one reason or another, someone’s grand dad or uncle shows up—”

“One kid had both his dads there last year. His dad and step-dad” Tashi adds. “Oh, and the Alexanders too.”

Art nods and glances over at Lily. “So, that’s coming up, and Lily here thinks that we should extend the invitation to you.”

Patrick is taken aback. He opens his mouth to speak but all that tumbles out is a weak “huh?”

Lily crawls forward on her bed. “Well,” she starts. “You always say you like donuts…they have donuts at my school.”

“You—you think I should come to Dad’s Day with Donuts? Isn’t Art going?” Patrick asks looking over at Art for an answer.

Lily is adamant. “Duh! But I want you to come too. That way we can all eat donuts. Just like we have pancakes together when mommy lets you.”

Patrick lets out a laugh as he leans down and swoops Lily up and over the bed. “Of course I’ll go have donuts with you Lils,” he says as he places a peck on the top of her head.

Lily starts to giggle louder as Patrick lifts her up and swings her around. “Alright, alright. Time for bed,” Tashi reaches over to grab Patrick’s arm. “We gotta go to bed for real this time.”

Lily pouts but allows Tashi to tuck her in.

•••

Later that night, Patrick can’t stop smiling to himself. Art notices the grin that hasn’t left his face since Lily’s room. He wraps his arms around Patrick’s torso and places his chin on his shoulder. Patrick is still grinning when their eyes meet in the bathroom mirror. “Don’t think this means you’re replacing me,” Art teases.

Patrick smirks at him. “Of course not, I would never do anything to come in between you and your daughter…I’m just there for the donuts, man.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Art laughs, leaning down to lightly bite Patrick’s bare shoulder.

A/n: aww!! Thanks for all the warm comments guys! I haven’t written anything in ages.

Also, I can’t be the only one who thinks Patrick in that navy pullover was giving dilf…

[tartagliove]

7:00pm

who knew that being friends with Kaveh meant befriending his friends—including the General Mahamatra?

cyno x reader ✧ 1.2k words fluff, mentions of a minor injury

If someone told you three months ago that you would be a regular guest at Kaveh and Alhaitham’s home, you would not believe them. But after working on a project with Kaveh, you have been slowly introduced to his friends, including the General Mahamatra. 

Cyno was intimidating and stoic at first, eyes of flame piercing through you. You struggled to talk to him, even in a group setting. His stoicism has not left, but you’ve learned to read him and are much more comfortable in his presence now.

Which is why you and Cyno are sitting across from each other at the living room table, stomachs full from dinner with your friends. Kaveh, Alhaitham, and Tighnari have moved into one of the studies to discuss something, but all your focus is on the Genius Invokation TCG cards and dice spread across the table. All the game pieces belong to Cyno. After you had asked him to teach you his favorite card game a week ago, he carefully curated a deck for you to start playing with so you could discover what playstyle you like before buying cards to form a deck of your own.

“I’ll use three Cryo points and have my Kaeya attack your Pyro Fatui agent with his skill.” You push three elemental dice toward the center of the table, then look up at Cyno. “I can do that, right?”

He inclines his head. “That falls within the rules of the game.”

“Oh, good.” You move to withdraw your hand, but Cyno’s eyes narrow and he quickly reaches out, fingers wrapping around your own. He pulls your hand toward himself, making you stretch a bit awkwardly over the table. “C-cyno?”

“You’re hurt,” he says. “What happened?”

You look down at your hand, held in his warm grasp. Dirty bandages wrap haphazardly around your pointer and middle fingers, tied in a messy knot at the end. Under Cyno’s sharp gaze, embarrassment makes your face hot at the sloppiness of your work.

“I scraped my knuckles while working on a project,” you tell him. “It was a bit hard to bandage everything up with only one hand.” 

Cyno lets go of your hand at your explanation. “I see.” 

You sit back in your chair, noticing how your hand suddenly feels colder. Blowing  out a breath, you look at the card game before you. “Anyway, it’s your move.”

Cyno is quick to have his Diluc card attack your Kaeya. But when you start thinking about how to retaliate, he stands up. “I’ll be back,” he says to the wide-eyed look you give him.

“Okay,” is all you manage to respond with before he leaves, walking into the study. You can hear his steady voice interrupting your friends’ conversation, though you can’t quite make out the words.

You try to turn your attention to the cards in front of you. There aren’t enough elemental dice with the right elements for you to use your cards’ special attacks, so…what was it that Cyno said you could do? You don’t remember. Sighing, you gingerly cross your arms on top of your cards and rest your head on them. Your eyes flutter shut.

“If you’re tired, we can end the game here and continue another time.”

Cyno’s reappearance surprises you into jolting upright, messing up your cards. You look down at them with a pout on your lips. “Yeah… I think I might need to head home and rest soon.”

Instead of sitting back down across from you, Cyno settles right next to you. He places a wooden box onto the table and flips open the lid, revealing a collection of bandages, small jars of salve and medicine, and cleaning alcohol.

“Wait, what-”

Cyno doesn’t let you fully express your confusion. “I’m dressing your wounds properly,” he states. He holds your gaze, unwavering stare letting you know that he will not budge on this.

You can’t help but squirm a little, eyes flickering away as you lift your hand and rest it on his outstretched one. His hand is warm and rough, calloused and scarred from all the battles he’s fought. Yet he is gentle as he unwraps your bandages, cleans your cuts, and carefully spreads a healing salve over them. 

The salve stings, but your attention is drawn to his long eyelashes as you study him. They cast a slight shadow onto his cheeks, although his bangs partially obscure one eye from view as he looks down at your hand. From the slight furrow between his brows, you assume that the limited vision bothers him. 

Without fully thinking about it, you brush his bangs back with your free hand, tucking the hair behind his ear. He looks up at the action, warm orange eyes meeting your own.

“I was just- you looked annoyed about your hair being in your eyes,” you explain. Your face burns under the indecipherable look that Cyno gives you.

“It did not bother me,” he says as he unravels a spool of bandages from the box. His fingers are nimble, deftly wrapping the white strips of cloth around your wounds in tidy loops. “I was concerned about your injuries; they’re worse than I thought they would be. You are skilled at your work, but please take care. If this happens again, tell me. I will bandage your wounds for you.”

Butterflies dance in your stomach. “O-okay, Cyno. You did take care of my cuts better than I could.” Looking down at your fingers, neat knots tie the two ends of each bandage together, ensuring that the cloth will not loosen as you work tomorrow. “Thank you,” you tell him softly. Then, because you don’t know if your heart can take any more of this—of being so close to him and tended to like something precious—you stand. “I should head home now.”

Cyno dips his head in acknowledgement and releases your hand. You immediately feel colder. He stands as well, tilting his head toward the door. “It’s late. Let me escort you home.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh, you don’t have to do that! It’s only a bit after seven, and others are still here, after all.”

He shakes his head, grabbing his cloak from the back of his chair and sweeping it over his shoulders. “I insist. I will return later for my cards.”

Cyno, abandoning his Genius Invokation cards to walk you home? That is something you never dreamed of. Yet it makes you indescribably happy for reasons you are not quite ready to admit to yourself, so all you do is smile helplessly at his adamance. 

“Alright then,” you say as Cyno opens the front door, falling in beside you as you step out on the lamp-lit streets of Sumeru City. “Thank you for walking me home.”

Cyno acknowledges your thanks with a nod of his head. He stays by your side all the way to your home, where he waits to hear the lock turn behind you in your front door before he returns to Alhaitham’s home. As he walks alone, all he can think of is the feeling of your hand in his own.

He’d like to feel that again.

requested by @auraxins for my camping event. reblogs and comments are much appreciated!

[blindmagdalena]

Hello!

Wonderful "Eat Your Ego, Honey" got me wondering:

what would happen if Homelander was interested in a stripper?

She's known for her dancing and, he sensed, her secret superpower/-s. Would he be furious that a girl dances in front of some "dirty" men? Would he torture her for being afraid of him? Would he be uncomfortable with the smell of her sweaty body?

I literally see scene of meeting: she's dancing to gothic metal in the dim lights of the room; Homelander is freaking out, jealous and horny (because he feels like she's having a blast dancing).

Thanks for your fanfics, I adore it! Because of your headcanons I fell in love with Homelander and decided to watch the series...

anon. the absolute RABBIT HOLE you sent me spiraling down with this ask is genuinely insane. firstly tho, thank you!! i'm so happy you enjoy my work and have been inspired to watch the show! i hope you love it as much as i did.

okay, now, onto the meat of this. i can't imagine Homelander ever being in a strip club, but i absolutely can see Vought having a dancer supe who performs at shows! and then i started thinking about what kind of powers she might have.

(this got long. strap in.)

and okay. bear with me here. i have the FAINTEST memory of a kids show (something like goosebumps or are you afraid of the dark) where they told a monkey-paw type story of a girl who wished that everyone would like/love her. and of course this turned out to be a fucking nightmare. people were obsessed with her automatically to a scary degree and she was eventually swarmed and maybe killed by the aggression of the adoring crowd? i don't remember.

but that made me think about her power being something of that nature. a chemical that compels people to adore her. when she sweats, and that sweat evaporates off of her skin, it fills the air people in the vicinity inhale it. it's what makes her dances so incredibly popular! but too much exposure to her powers can cause, uh... scary side effects in people. make them deranged. obsessive.

she hates it. it's destroyed all the relationships in her life. it's pretty much inevitable that she'll eventually effect the people around her, and it either freaks them out to the point they break contact with her or creates a completely inauthentic infatuation with her. it's impossible for her to know if anyone actually likes her, or if they're just under the influence of her powers.

she, like Homelander, would know what it's like to be "loved" in the most hollow sense of the word.

how cut to Homelander who's present at one of these shows where she's dancing and oh my god something smells incredible. downright intoxicating. it calls to every fiber of his being and he follows the scent of it until he's close enough to the stage, and it shocks him to his core to realize it's a person.

except! Homelander is so fucking chock full of V himself that he's not wholly affected by her... idk, pheromones? whatever you want to call her aura of effect. but he IS intrigued by it. by her. by the way her body moves and how she seems to have cast a SPELL on the entire audience.

he expects he'll be able to get a chance to speak with her after the performance, but bafflingly, she gets the FUCK outta there as soon as her set is done. naturally he has to follow!!!!

and okay i just had so many ideas for this! i even thought of One Single Friend she has who's a fellow supe and, due to his own powers, he's immune to her effect. i haven't figured out how exactly. maybe he doesn't breathe the way normal humans do. or he has some kind of innate filtration that makes him immune to gasses and things. his supe name is something stupid like... The Filtrator.

speaking of which her supe name would probably be like. Enchantress. something that alludes to the charming effect she has. but her friend knows how her powers work and he playfully calls her The Perspiren. perspiring siren. 😭😂

anyways i think they could have a lot of really interesting parallels! and of course Homelander would be intensely possessive of her, but he's also a HUGE exhibitionist and i think he would get off on knowing how badly everyone wants someone that's his.

he wouldn't ever physically hurt/torture her, but he would of course become violent if his possession of her were challenged or threatened in any way. if anyone touched what's his, or presumed they could take her. anyone she showed interest in would definitely wind up dead.

can you tell that i thought WAY too hard about this.

idk if i would make this an oc or a reader fic. i feel like this could definitely work for my first proper supe!reader fic! it's got a ton of potential. thanks so much for sending this!