#the time dream was asked how patches was and he was like 'i don't know I don't speak cat' that was SOOO FUCKINGCUTE

[dodgebolts]

George and Dream taking the question "how is x person" hyperliterally they are my everythings

[shotmrmiller]

When Johnny takes Simon to his home, and you open the door, Simon's heart stops beating. You direct that lovely smile he's fallen in love with at Johnny as you hug him and usher him inside. Simon's frozen in place, his body refusing to move, because gods, you're a fucking dream.

And then you turn your attention towards him, with ruddy cheeks and pink lips and a delicate neck he could easily wrap his hand around—

"You must be Simon!" and his cock starts to stir. All you said was his name, in that angelic voice of yours, and his blood started to rush to his groin.

When you move to wrap your arms around him in an embrace, he finally breaks from his trance and returns it. Barely. It's awkward— one arm coming up to inelegantly pat your upper back a little too hard, and the other stiff at his side. But you seem completely unbothered, just giving him one last squeeze and step back, holding both of his arms in your dainty hands, and you say, "It's great to meet the one that keeps my Johnny safe. Now, come on in, make yourself at home!"

Simon timidly walks inside, and closes the door behind him, and utters, "Thank you for lettin' me stay here."

The joyful laughter you let out sends exquisite prickles up his spine. "He actually speaks! I'm surprised, Johnny said it took a bit for you to warm up to others," and you give another stomach-fluttering giggle. "You're welcome here any time, Simon. Now let me take you to the room you'll be staying in."

Simon has to carry his duffle bag in front of him as you lead him to the guest room to cover the throbbing erection he's got. When you leave him to freshen up, he wastes no time in pulling his jeans down and taking himself in his hand, stroking firmly. When his imagination paints a picture of you wearing an apron while cooking a meal for him, his vision blurs as he climaxes.

--

Simon knows he's atypical. He has no real decorum. He tells piss-poor dark jokes, inadvertently stares at people when he's lost in thought— and since he's been here, Simon likes to shadow you.

But you don't seem to mind any of it. You laugh at his jokes, the ones Johnny never fails to scoff in disgust at, you tilt your head innocently towards him, silently questioning his intense gaze — and it's so fucking adorable that he's come to that look 8 times in the last 3 days— and you always ask him to reach for things that are out of your reach because you know he's around. (Johnny made a joke once, said that you're being haunted by a ghost, and the quip you replied with as you came to his defense had him dizzy.)

His favorite thing about you though, is how unafraid you are of him. You had rounded a corner and saw his skull mask for the first time, and had you been like any other woman, you would've been startled. But you hadn't been— If anything, you asked him if he wanted it fixed.

"I can see a couple of tears here, Simon. I can patch it up if you like."

It was so deliciously domiciliary that he counted each stitch of his mended mask with his thumb as he touched himself that night.

And then, through the thin walls of the home, he suddenly heard your dulcet moans. He quickly got up and put his skills to use— silently crossing the living room and leaning against the wall closest to your bedroom door.

The bed repeatedly creaked and every choked moan that left you, Simon heard clearly. He hastily took out his achingly hard cock, spit on his palm, and stroked himself to the rhythm of the slapping of skin. Squeezing his eyes shut, he fucked himself to the thought of him being the one in there with you.

He has no doubt that you'd feel heavenly. Your slick cunt swallowing his turgid length, walls almost painfully tight around him. You'd beg for him to hammer into you, relentlessly, mercilessly. You'd tell him to bite the crook of your shoulder once you were about to come around his cock, and when he actually hears you reach your peak, he rhythmically tightens and loosens his grip, imitating your fluttering walls. His toes are curling inside his socks, he's so bloody close—

And then Simon hears your lascivious voice murmur, "Come in me."

He bites his lip so hard it splits under the pressure as he comes. Tiny, hushed whimpers seeped from behind his mouth, as hot cum spilled onto his fingers, and trickled onto the floor.

The only noise Simon can hear now is his own shaky breath— the fun's over on both sides, it seems. He looks down, gives his softening cock one more stroke, wringing out the last of his seed, before tucking himself away, and sluggishly wiping his mess off the floor with his foot.

He quietly moves, heading back to his room, when he spots your laundry basket in the utility room.

Simon has never believed in luck until now when he's sniffing your knickers in the privacy of the guest room, and he realizes they've been worn. And by how strong the smell of you is, they've been used very recently. He felt like he won the goddamn lottery.

Wrapping it around his cock, he touches himself. Again. And when he comes, he makes sure to spurt his cum directly onto the gusset of the undergarment.

Come morning, when they're all stiff and crusted, he laments that he didn't lick them first, in a pitiful bid to experience a taste of you, before stowing them into a secret compartment in his bag. He makes a mental note to remember to do just that when he takes another pair.

Simon wordlessly makes a cup of tea later, hissing as the hot liquid comes in contact with the small wound on his lip, when Johnny approaches him.

"Mornin' LT."

A grunt is his only reply.

Johnny then shoots him a sly grin.

"Last night, ye weren't as wheesht, as quiet, as ye thought. But dinnae worry, Bonnie doesn't ken a thing."

He claps a hand on Simon's petrified shoulders. "If ye wanted a slice of the cake, ye could've just asked. I dinnae mind sharin'."

Simon gives him a borderline-demented look, puts his tea down on the counter, and clears his throat.

"When?"

[ilium-ilia]

simon riley x fem!reader | drabble | intersecting lines | morbid thoughts | death and the macabre | erotic morbidity? | blood kink taken to the extreme | two sides of the same coin can never look in one direction, but that won't stop them from devouring each other whole anyway

You only learned that you should be disgusted with blood when it first stained your underwear.

Thick endometrium and stale ichor, expunged from your body like a pest, sticky between your thighs, rotting in the core of you—keep it quiet. You'll make the men squirm if you open your pretty lips about it. Suffer in silence. Wrap agony with a pale, baby pink bow and grin with teeth as iridescent as pearls; nothing less. Everything more.

The boy in your biology class cringes at the frog you slice open during lab. Heart long since stilled, webbed hands and feet pinned open and wide, tender stomach ready to dive into—he gags, and the sympathetic puker that is his partner nearly spews over his shoes.

Later that year, after sustaining a bloody nose during a football game, he grins—wears the crimson proudly as it pours into his lips as if he realizes for the first time that iron tastes and awful lot like victory.

Blood is a fickle bitch.

It haunts your dreams. A wide, open sea of red that pours down your throat, coagulating in your chest, spilling into your stomach until you're bloated. Clawing for the surface, the sky asks why you aren't satisfied—have you not had enough death to satiate your hunger? They speak as if this is what you wanted; a choice you actively pursued, and not someplace you ended up.

As if there would be anywhere else that would welcome you with open arms.

Hands wrapped tight around a wheelchair, you gently lead your patient down the hall. She said she wanted to go for a walk, but her legs don't quite work the same anymore. You don't mind. It gets your steps in, and you're able to hide from the EVS tech who can't quite keep his eyes off of your ass.

She tells you about her grandson. Freshly jellied just two months ago—a tiny thing with predictably small hands and fingers and a scent she can't ever get enough of. She asks if you've ever experienced anything like that, and you smile and say you have.

You don't tell her about the blood that stains your shoes, or how it belonged to a seventeen year old boy, or the glass that was lodged in his throat, or how he couldn't live even after you patched him up.

Oh, I could never do something like that.

It's the default expression someone shares when you talk about your work. Tight lips, clenching jaws, twitchy feet—they speak like they don't know how beautiful blood is, like pomegranate juice flowing beneath overgrown thumb nails, or the fortitude it takes to see beauty when nothing but death has been shoved down your throat your entire life.

So you look for something else to sear your throat instead. A good pint, usually.

Shoved in the corner of a dilapidating pub, far out of the way, on the fringe of a wicked swing shift—the glass warms in your lips. Your hands tap against the table. No matter how many times you wash your hands, you can't get the stench to go away. Of blood. Of an emergency department.

Death approaches you with a black jumper, blue jeans, and eyes darker than a moonless night—his name is Simon Riley. Something he grunts out when you ask who the fuck he thinks he is for joining your table uninvited. Unfazed, sipping on his glass of whiskey neat, gaze fixated on the football game that drones on the telly too far for him to properly see.

You let him stay only because he smells familiar. Gun powder and cigarette—nicotine thick on his skin that even the faintest sniff leaves your blood buzzing. A culmination of all things dark, of things that get most people to flinch away, of things you lean into because you learned to smile through the fear and now you crave it more than anything else.

That night, you let him fuck you, only because you're curious to see if his blood tastes any different than your own.

Cock buried deep enough inside of you to snuff out the ache, you unhinge your jaw to fit him all in. Maw closing around his neck, teeth dipping where they shouldn't, you expect him to squeal like a stuck pig—instead, he laughs. Lips red like rose petals and viscera, Simon laughs. Wipes his fingers along his shoulder. Shoves them down your throat.

Yeah. Nasty fuckin' girl. Knew you were. Nothin' good ever smells this sweet.

Your whole life you have spent mending people—sewing them back together—that you never once stopped to think what it felt like to be torn apart. Simon does it beautifully. Practiced hands clawing through your cunt, dipping where you need him to, cleaving you clean in two just to lick you clean with the flat of his tongue. Trembling fingers trace every scar on his body as he skewers you, chest vibrating with each thrust, blood yearning to spill free just as he releases into you.

He kills for a living. The antithesis of you. The zenith of what you should despise but can't. Bullet through brain, knife through throat—he visits you before his boots have the time to shake off the gore. When he's still feverish with a fresh kill, and in desperate need of something sugary sweet to cleanse his pallet before he can't tell the difference between the taste of offals and rot.

Still, you work. Bedside manner. Water cups. Smiles over screams. Inhale blood. Wipe down the bed once the body is gone—bring the next one in. No need to glove up, you're not afraid of the cancer; not anymore.

No matter how hard you suppress it, you know that in the end, you get to go home. Cheek to Simon's chest, middle finger tracing his sternum, pressing into his xiphoid process, hand bouncing with each beat of his heart. You smile through the gushing blood and sour sweat as he pushes his fingers into your mouth.

Atta girl. Just need that dumb brain of yours turned off every now and then, huh? Yeah, me too, sweetheart.

Deeper. Enough to claw into your throat. Thick cock in your cunt, fresh blood on your lips, a grin peeling over sharp canines—your death rattle arrives with an arching back. With tense fingers in taut skin. With a whisper against your skin.

La petite mort.

Little death.

And as Simon drips on you—fresh, and red—you can't help but think about how good it feels to love something that death can touch.

[jjjjisun]

Pre-Game Ritual (Final)

Minju X Male Reader | 10304 words

TW: Incest

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Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

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[Minju... I can't stop thinking about you]

Minju's phone buzzed as she pushed her duffel off her shoulder and the door to her dorm room closed behind her. Looking at her phone, the smile returned to her face and Minju fell back onto the couch in the middle of her and Deborah's room. The old sofa her parents had given her when she moved in was the one that she and her brother used to battle on in the basement when they were younger. There were pulls all over it and one of the cushions definitely had a big tear in the underside where Y/N had once thrown it at her and hit the cabinet instead.

This was crazy. Minju could barely think what to write back as she quivered in pure excitement at what had finally happened with her and her big brother. He was apparently the man of everybody's dreams, or so all her friends said, but only she had gotten to do what they all wanted to, brother or not.

For a few moments between halftime and now, Minju had wondered if her brother was going to treat what had happened as anything more than the relationship that Y/N had with that awful ex, Eunju. But upon receiving his text, and even before that when she saw him staring as he was ushered off the field after the game, Minju knew everything was going to be okay.

-I could barely talk to anybody after we... it was like you made my brain melt!- Minju finally responded.

She had truly avoided people as much as she could after what had happened in the locker room. Perhaps her brother could go out and win a football game after that, but Minju felt completely overcome by the experience.

-You were so amazing out there Oppa. Everybody is talking about it.-

Y/N smiled at his little sister's compliment, almost seeing the pride on her face like she'd worn when he saw her after he scored the first touchdown in the second half.

[I wonder why that is... did you tell them about how you were the MVP?]

-The MVP huh? Don't I get some kind of reward for that?-

[Anything you want sis]

-Hmm... anything?-

[You name it]

Y/N wondered if he was being too forward, and the pause after he texted her made him feel a bit nervous. They were still in uncharted territory and the last thing he wanted to do was overstep with his little sister, no matter how badly he wanted to continue what they'd started.

[What are you doing right now] He asked, trying to continue the conversation.

-Laying on Mom and Dad's old couch. I just got home, what about you?-

[Still in the locker room. All of the guys are finishing up showers and I think coach wants to talk to us about the game]

-SO MANY NAKED DUDES, SO MUCH TESTOSTERONE.- Minju teased, always giving him a hard time about the easiest stereotypes.

[I think you know where I would be if I didn't have to be here]

Again, Minju waited to send something back. She knew he was hoping for her to play into his implications but it felt good to string him along. 'Make him work for it,' Minju repeated in her head.

[Are your girlfriends all going out tonight?] Y/N asked

-They said they were, but I'm thinking of staying in-

Y/N felt like begging to come over. He was near shouting into his phone.

-I'm looking at that spot on the couch that mom had to patch when you burned it with a firecracker right now. You're still a huge pyro aren't you?-

[Duh.] Y/N responded. Some of the guys were beginning to get clothes on and wander over toward the space where they usually gathered. He didn't want to stop texting his little sis, but the coach had a strict no-phones policy for this kind of thing.

-I love having this couch in my dorm, so many memories, so much stupid stuff we did in that basement-

God did Y/N love her. She was right, they had made so many memories together in that basement. Growing up, they'd fought and played together for hours on end down there, left alone to their own devices and to keep each other company. Somewhere along the line, he'd grown much bigger, and she much prettier and all the while he'd built up a love for her that meant he'd do anything to protect and take care of her.

And now Y/N was imagining his little sister laying out, wearing the tank-top she usually did after games and a pair of team gym shorts she always managed to roll a few times at the waist. Her lithe little frame would be stretching out and her smooth feet, with those delicate toes working their way under the arm-pad at the end. She wasn't exactly the same little sister who he'd held down on the couch until she shouted uncle. Maybe she was, he just wanted to be on top of her for an entirely different reason.

His phone buzzing in his hand brought Y/N back to the present.

-I think I know what I want as my prize for being the MVP.-

[What's that?] Y/N texted as his coach called them over to huddle up.

-I want you to come over so we can play together on the couch tonight...-

He was looking down at his phone and his heart was beating faster and faster as he approached the gathering team.

-Only I'm gonna be naked and mom and dad won't come down to check on us.-

-

Words were said, players were congratulated for spectacular play, the team huddled and broke apart and all the while Y/N was thinking of Minju. He couldn't help it; the thought of her lying on that old couch without a thing on, and waiting for him to come over made him mad with excitement.[U2] She was his baby sister, his own adorable college girl, and an unbelievably hot one at that. At a time when every girl at school would claw each other's eyes out to get with him, Y/N wanted nothing more than to rush off and meet his beautiful, eighteen-year-old sister in her dorm as promised.

She wasn't exactly waiting for him. In the time after she'd texted her brother what she wanted, Minju had laid on the couch, enamored, for a few minutes. But not for long, because suddenly she was feeling giddy and nervous like a girl who had finally gotten the attention of a boy in her grade. She got in the shower and shaved her legs, washed every inch of her body and then stared in the mirror primping and preening for what seemed like forever.

Minju felt particularly relieved that the hazing of the day before had included a spa trip and wax because she could feel how smooth her pussy was as she rubbed lotion onto her skin from head to toe. After texting her roommate to ask if she could sleep somewhere else that night and tidying her room, Minju wore only a towel and waited patiently for her brother to arrive.

Doing his best to be inconspicuous, Y/N put the hood of his sweatshirt up and took the stairs rather than the elevator to his sister's floor. He checked the hallway and had to wait for two girls to walk into their rooms before rushing over and turning the handle to his little sister's room. He closed the door behind him and backed up against it, letting out a deep breath he'd been holding.

The sound of the door opening made Minju's heart jump. She knew he was coming, knew what they intended to do: something they had technically already done it earlier that day. But this time felt different.

They hadn't yet met on any day other than a Friday before the game. They had only touched each other on the premise that it was in some way a service to the football team. Before, it was like they had an excuse, but as Minju stood up and watched her brother turn the lock on the door behind him, she knew that he was there for her and only her.

Y/N watched his little sister stand up from the couch with a towel wrapped around her. She was adorable. Petite, youthful and so nervous - he could see it on her as she stood there shaking. He almost felt bad as he saw the body language that seeming to be praying he would approve of her. That was, until Y/N watched his little sister tug at the towel and drop it around her feet.

It felt like the first time he'd seen her naked... wait, was it? His head was all jumbled up as she stood there next to the old green couch and turned a little bit, shrugging her shoulders sheepishly and causing her breasts to perk up for his view.

"Come here little sis," Y/N instructed her

She sidled over to him and Y/N immediately put his hands on her shoulders. The room was cold, and little goose-bumps were showing up on her skin, but his hands felt instantly warm.

"You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen." Y/N assured her.

She smiled, nuzzling her head against his arm. Feeling some of the confidence of earlier that day returning to her.

"What if some other boy had decided to stop by before I could get here, huh?"

"Well I probably wouldn't have gotten naked for him, for one." Minju quipped, grinning.

"PROBABLY?" Y/N retorted.

"I definitely wouldn't have let him fuck me if that's what you're asking?" Minju implied. Both of them were quiet as they absorbed what she said.

Feeling mischievous enough, Minju moved her hand to the long bulge in her brother's sweatpants.

"Is that what you're here to do big brother?" she teased. Looking down in wonder at the path her hand was tracing along Y/N's sizable erection.

He couldn't resist any longer, Y/N had to get his hands on her, his lips, everything. With a hand around his little sister's waist and one at her neck, he pulled her toward him and joined their lips. At first it was pure need, lust and magnetism that drew them together, but as their lips slowly parted, Minju's tongue found her brothers in a way that inspired them to take their time.

Minju felt her sibling's hand move its way from her hip to her stomach, and then from her stomach to her ribcage. Finally, he reached her breast and he tested it's weight under his thumb and forefinger before grasping the entire thing.

"Uhhhhh..." Minju mewwed into her brother's mouth as he touched her, loving the sensation of letting him be in control. His desire was obvious, but his touch was gentle. Slowly he felt her up and she let them take awkward little steps backward toward the couch while still kissing.

"Oppa," she broke away as her backside touched the couch, "I've wanted this for so long," she whispered with their foreheads touching and his eyes watching her breasts mound together as he massaged them.

"Not like I said... not just to help you with your games," she continued.

Y/N lifted her up, so easily it scared her, and set her naked bottom on the back of the old sofa. When she looked up, his eyes were directly in line with hers. They could hear girls talking in the hall, ambling to and from the bathroom and getting ready to go out. In the room, it was only them, and nobody knew that beyond her door, a little sister now sat completely naked and hoping that her big brother would soon make love to her.

Y/N put his finger under her chin the way he had so many times before.

"Minju," he soothed her, "I know you have, because I have wanted you for longer than I can remember."

"Really?" She asked, with big puppy-dog eyes gazing up at him. "You're not just saying that?"

"Duh," he said, making her crack a smile, "and you're not just my little sister anymore, you're this beautiful girl who knows what she wants and knows how to drive me crazy and..."

Minju stopped him with a hungry kiss, grabbing his neck and pulling on it so he'd let her at him. He reveled in her haste, reminding him of how she'd actually been like that since she was little, whether he'd just complimented her for growing up or not. Except now, with her naked little body in front of him, he knew she had.

Her breasts, young but full, were very different after eighteen years. Her hips were more womanly, wider and tapered to from her toned abdomen. And those legs she was starting to wrap around him to pull him closer... Y/N knew they had not always been so alluring.

"I do know what I want," she said between kisses.

Without explaining, she reached for the bottom of her brother's sweatshirt and pulled it up before he could utter another word, his undershirt with it. She revealed his upper body and felt a quiver in between her legs as each inch of his abs, his chest muscles and his staunch shoulders all came into view.

Minju had only had sex the once, and still she knew that the extreme desire she felt as she looked at him was for him to use on her... in her..., what she had yet to reveal from his jeans.

"Slow down..." Y/N chuckled as he felt her hands move quickly to his belt. Her breath was so hasty that she could hardly keep kissing him. She managed to push his jeans down and leave her big brother standing in his boxer briefs before he made a move.

Her hand had found his cock almost immediately, attempting to wrap around it through his underwear. It felt so good that Y/N nearly allowed her to do what she must and not stop her, but he'd seen what he wanted next when he had first lifted Minju up onto the couch.

With her beautiful legs spread, she couldn't hide the bare, pink pussy that he hadn't quite gotten to admire yet. It was pursed shut by her soft, little mound but even that couldn't hide that Minju was getting wetter by the second. A light sheen had caught her brother's eye when he stepped back to take off his pants and he knew he had to kiss her there.

Only Y/N had ever touched her, and it had happened so unexpectedly in the hotel room at the away game; so when she saw in her brother's eyes what he intended to do, Minju once again felt her heart flutter; she was the center of his attention.

First, he kissed gently around her inner thighs. Even that elicited a moan from Y/N's little sis and her bare hips writhed, inviting him closer. He took his time, kissing and licking closer and closer to her sweet opening. Minju was positively desperate for him to put his lips directly against her when, she finally felt it.

Y/N dragged his tongue from the little drip of her fluids at the base of her opening all the way up to the tiny peak of her clit. The excruciating care he took, the gentle pressure of his tongue, It was like nothing she had ever felt before, and Y/N didn't stop there.

Slowly and deliberately, Y/N began sucking at her tiny bud to the tune of Minju's repeated gasps.

"Oh fuck Oppa, ohmygod..." she called to him, her diaphragm expanding and contracting involuntarily, "keep doing that."

Y/N smiled right against the cooing brunette's quim as he felt her fingers grabbing at his hair greedily while he stimulated her with his tongue. The sounds of his little sister's cries were so soothing after a whole day of hits and crowds and competition on the field. He'd been thinking of her every free moment, seen her on the sidelines, and imagined all of the things he wanted to do to her. Now that he had her, Y/N didn't care that she was being loud. The door was locked and Y/N didn't intend to stop making Minju moan for him.

In no time flat, Minju knew he was going to make her cum. And for some reason, even though what he was doing was incredible, Minju wanted to feel an orgasm with her brother inside her.

"Oppa, wait," she begged him. Y/N didn't want to obey, to stop her from having the orgasm she seemed headed for. "Please...uhhh... I want to cum with you fucking me."

She urged him up with her fingers behind his head. Even though Y/N didn't want to stop kissing and licking her, the thought of sliding his cock into Minju's wonderfully tight pussy was too much to ignore. At the game, he had hardly the time to realize what they were doing, or how willing and desirable the eighteen-year-old brunette was to him. Now she was all his for the taking, naked and waiting for his next move on the back of their parents couch. He could really take his time and think about what they were doing.

"I love you so much Oppa," she told him as he came up to eye level. She never broke contact with him as he told her the same, but he felt her hands pull his hard cock out of his boxers and shove his waistband down and out of the way.

Her hand could hardly wrap him. Minju couldn't believe that she had managed to fit most of his big penis inside her earlier that day but it didn't worry her; she wanted to savor it this time, slowly, more than ever.

"Ohmygosh Oppa you're big," she told him,

Y/N returned his hands to her perfect breasts and then pawed her body while she stroked him a few times. A drop of fluid lingered at his tip already; Minju smeared it against him with her thumb.

"I've been dreaming of this forever Minju'," he said, getting his little brunette's attention and gazing deep into her big green eyes. "Tell me what you want sis," he encouraged her.

"Mnnhhh..." she called out, bringing him close enough to touch only the very tip to her sensitive clit. She loved the thought of rubbing his pre-cum right against her and feeling her own fluids coat the head of her brother's cock.

"I want to feel your big...mnnhhh..." Y/N urged his hips forward so the underside of his tip pressured her clit, "hard...ohhfuck..." he withdrew and lingered unmoving, "...cock in my pussy Oppa," she dared him, "Fuck me however you want me big brother."

Without another word, Y/N felt his cock line up perfectly to do what she asked. Try as they might to withhold, Minju's taut lips gave way and her brother slowly pushed inside.

It felt considerably better than before, but Minju's pussy was so wet that her brother's cock was able to slide in half-way before she could protest. Y/N held his little sister fast as she tried to adjust to being impaled on his big rod.

Minju and her brother looked down together at where he was inside her. Her recently virgin lips, bare and glistening, were split wide with Y/N's cock halfway in. The room was bright, not like that tiny office; they could see and feel what they were doing without any hesitation or doubt.

It didn't worry Minju one bit. An hour before she had asked her brother for this, for him to 'play with her' on the very couch she could now feel beneath her, in her own dorm room with so many nosy girls moving about all around them. Yet, all she wanted was for her big brother to fill her as much as he could.

When their eyes met again with clarity, it was Y/N's turn to groan. His little sister was using her heels around him to pull his hips closer and slide his cock deeper inside.

"Ouuuuphhh..." Y/N breathed out. He saw his little sister smirk with mischievous pride as they came together at the hips. Somehow, impossible as it seemed, Y/N was buried all the way into Minju's young tunnel.

Joined at the hips, Minju's soft breasts pressed against her brother's chest; she could feel his powerful heart beating. Her head nuzzled against him and his breath tickled her ear.

"You can fuck me now," she whispered, "I'm ready."

Minju enjoyed a few more seconds of the embrace before she felt her big brother move. His cock slowly slid out of her, almost all the way before he urged it back in. She was so wet, Y/N realized, a wonderful assurance of how badly his little sister wanted him. The slick sound of his penis sliding against her inner walls reached their ears and it was wonderful.

Their hips met for the second time, then the third. Minju held onto her brother's neck and leaned back, pushing her chest out proudly as Y/N thrust again.

Her whole body was displayed before his hungry eyes; causing his hips to collide with hers less and less gently. Each time, the space just below her tiny abdomen bulged just a hint, showing the siblings just how deep Y/N's head was inside his whimpering sister's pussy.

'It's okay," she told him, "you can fuck me harder."

Y/N loved her for that; a few thrusts more and the eighteen-year-olds breasts were bouncing mesmerizingly before his eyes. Minju found herself unable to contain herself from crying out in pleasure. She'd forgotten how close she was from her brother's mouth, but she remembered now.

"OhhhOppa," she gasped as he drove into her again, "mmmnhhh...you feel so good in me."

Her big brother could hear in her voice and the adorable sounds coming out of her mouth that Minju was once again near climax as she had been before. He adjusted the angle of his thrusts just a bit; Minju shuddered and dug her nails into his shoulder.

"Ughhhh.. ohhhGOD..." she panted,

Y/N grasped his little sister's soft butt, sinking his fingers into each cheek and kept fucking her. Each time he felt her young pussy fully enveloping him, each beautiful moan and pant, he was reminded of how lucky he was to be inside his beautiful baby sister.

When Minju thought she could take no more, when her climax was approaching and she thought she might turn inside-out with pressure and sensation, her hands fought to stop her brother from impaling her over the edge.

But he wouldn't stop; he just kept driving into her and Minju was powerless to stop the orgasm from coming.

He kept fucking her, even as Minju cried out,

"OuuwhhHHHhhaaa..."

Her legs locked around him, still trying to stop him from making the climax any more intense, but Y/N wanted the opposite. Seeing his little sister cum with such uncontrollable passion was something he hoped to never forget.

She gasped for air, and when Minju suddenly grabbed for his wrists and locked her arms straight to push herself up and off of him as much as she could, Y/N decided to give her a break.

She shook, her whole body shook. Her skin crawled with pins and needles and her entire pussy convulsed around the more than half her brother's cock still tucked inside her.

Y/N was close to laughing he was so happy to see Minju cum like that, and to sense how helpless she must have felt as the orgasm wracked her body. Around his cock, little droplets of Minju's wetness were peeking out, a few of them onto that beloved couch they'd known for so long.

It nearly killed her, but Minju had to go limp and fall into her brother's arms so she slid what she had managed to retreat from of her brother's shaft back inside and let him hold her up.

Y/N listened to her deep breaths and felt her back heave as she tried to regain her wits.

"You jerk!" she breathed into his ear.

"What? What did I do?" Y/N asked, leaning back to try and look into her eyes.

"You made me cum so hard!" She whined, "I couldn't even control my body and you kept fucking me..."

Minju knew she was being silly, and so did Y/N. He simply held her and let her catch her breath, though his cock, still buried in Minju's tiny pussy, hadn't softened a bit.

When Y/N couldn't take it anymore, and Minju seemed to be recuperated from her earlier near-loss of consciousness, he withdrew from his little sister a few inches and urged back in to see how she would react.

She didn't protest, so Y/N made a different move. Minju yelped as she felt her brother's arms around her back and then suddenly she was being lifted up from the couch.

"Where are you..." Minju started, shivering and glancing behind her when she felt her back come into contact with the cold surface of the door.

Looking back at him, she could see the excited look in his brother's eyes. He'd never felt so free and uninhibited with a girl before, and the way his little sister grinned as he pinned her against her dorm-room door assured him that she was perfectly content.

Once again, Y/N's hips began to move, and before long so did Minju's. She was starting to get the hang of it, starting to understand how her brother's body worked and what the best way was to help them fuck like long-time lovers.

The way her body moved, how her stomach muscles tensed against him and her butt wiggled in his hands as he held her up was irresistible to Y/N. She was the sexiest girl he'd ever seen and now she was proving herself the same as a partner.

The door jiggered a few times as he fucked her against it, and the surface slid against Minju's back each time her brother thrust up into her.

"I love you," he panted in her ear, pounding her again, "uhhhh...I am so fucking crazy about you,"

Minju grabbed his head and pulled it toward her for a kiss. Their tongues attacked clumsily before she pulled apart to tell him she loved him too.

He manhandled her and fucked her so easily against the door that Minju was positively smitten and impressed. She reached up to grab the top frame of the door. She could feel her tits jiggling as they hung higher now and her brother continued his thrusts, unrelenting. She knew that sex could feel good, but she didn't know it could be so fun.

Minju felt playful, diving in and nibbling on her brother's ear. She wrapped her hands around his shoulders and squeezed tight. Her nipples grazed her brother's chest and she shuddered at the added sensation.

Minju was giggling and panting and moaning, totally letting go of her reservations and letting her body tell her how to react. Outside the door, some girls were laughing and standing nearby to remark on the noises coming from Minju's and Deborah's shaking door. If only they knew who was fucking her senseless on the other side; if only they knew that her own brother was shoving his big cock inside her again and again... what would they say then?

Hearing it too, Y/N pulled away from the door. Minju seized the opportunity to gyrate her hips and fuck her brother back a little. He stood still, letting her go as wild as she liked. She held on while he supported her above the waist and she worked her little hips as fast and hard as she could. It felt incredible to them both.

When he started to feel like she might be getting him close, Y/N spoke softly into his sister's ear.

" I'm close sis, uhhhfuck, I can't take you moving your hips like that much longer."

"Oh yeah?" Minju teased, "like this you mean?"

With an intent look on her face, biting her bottom lip and leaning back like a gymnast, Minju rotated her hips around on her brother's big cock and felt his tip prodding her as deep as he'd ever been.

"Ohgod... yes," Y/N answered, firmly grasping her hips to keep her from continuing her dangerous movement.

"We shouldn't Minju!" he admonished her.

"Why not?" she whined, "you already did earlier today... and it felt so good!"

She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him the most innocent, pleading face she could manage.

"Don't you want to cum inside me again Oppa?" she beckoned, pecking his lips to be even cuter.

"Didn't you like squirting all your sticky cum in me, in your little sister's pussy?"

Y/N was speechless. How could he tell her no? The way she was sticking out her bottom lip... the way her big green eyes were begging him the same way they did if she wanted something when they were little... It was so different now; his little sister was now his lover, with her beautiful body wrapped around him like a monkey. He wanted everything about her, every inch of her, and he'd already done it before...

Minju knew she had won as her brother carried her over to that shag carpet she'd felt so silly buying with her mom when they moved her into her dorm. Now it didn't feel quite so silly; it felt soft on her naked back when her brother set her down.

"You didn't know I was on the pill huh?" Minju asked naughtily as her brother positioned himself on top of her, "even when you came all over my pussy that night in the hotel?"

"I guess not," Y/N admitted, feeling guilty.

"It's okay, that was really hot...unhhh..." she let him off, cooing when Y/N slid into her as he hovered above her. "...I couldn't stop thinking about it all week."

"I wanna feel it again Oppa, go ahead," she asked, pulling needily at his hips with her feet,

"Fuck your naughty little sister and then fill me up with your cum,"

'Holy shit,' Y/N thought. It was so unexpected, Y/N had apparently opened Minju's eyes to being just as much a troublemaker as always, except now it included having sex with her big brother.

Immediately Y/N commenced sliding in and out of her. She was still dripping wet, her eighteen-year-old pussy had been waiting for this kind of attention from him for far too long.

Minju felt more full than she had ever before. Y/N was being less and less gentle, and Minju loved it. Over and over he shoved into her; she could feel his tip prodding her depths. Looking down, she wondered how it could possibly fit inside her.

But it did, countless times it did. When Minju looked up she could see the concentration on her brother's face and a look as if he was holding back. Her poor brother, all this and he was still too good to her to cum inside her when she asked.

"OhgodOppa..." she breathed, "I want it so bad."

"Fuck Minju', I'm so close," he told her. Minju knew it, and after being impaled so many times on her big brother's cock, feeling his weight as he buried inside her tunnel, she was too.

"Uhhhhhh..." she returned, "Cum inside me...unghhhh...cum in your little sister's pussy."

His motions became erratic, and suddenly Minju knew what was happening. Her brother's hips stopped their onslaught, pressed against her with his cock buried as far as it could be. As she watched his whole body, his big arms, rippling abs and even his neck tense-up she felt a gush of heat deep inside her.

From his head, Y/N shot forbidden semen deep into his little sister.

Holding the little teenager tight, he throbbed again, coating her cervix...

Again, he splashed her insides with sperm.

As soon as she felt it, there was an electric reaction in Minju's body. She hadn't expected it, thinking maybe her brother had worn her out before, but when the reality of her womb being flooded with Y/N's cum hit her, her little body went into a fit of sensation.

Minju gasped along with her brother. Again a wave of stimulation flowed from the places inside her being painted with her brother's cum to the synapses in her brain before firing out to the tips of her fingers and toes.

"Ohhhh Oppa," she called, "I'm cummmingggg,"

Blackness.

The room was perfectly bright, but Y/N and Minju could only feel each other as they lay on the rug being overcome by their mutual climaxes.

It felt like it would never end, or maybe Y/N didn't want it to. Every time he pumped another rope of semen into his teenage sister's pussy, she seemed to quake and pant again. He wanted to watch her like that as long as possible.

Minju's face was flushed, her eyelids fluttering with her head rolled back. Her chest heaved against her brother as he tried not to put too much weight on her. He felt weak, and he struggled to focus on anything but the squeezing sensation of little Minju's convulsing tunnel. Each time she breathed, her young quim ushered one more defiant rope of white from her big brother's cock.

Even when he had no more to release inside her, Minju's orgasm didn't seem to want to end. He could only watch her, wince when her tunnel massaged him again, and marvel at how beautiful she looked with the mane of hair about her head and the glisten of sweat on her cheeks.

She was something out of a dream: too adorable, too petite, too alluring to really be his little sister... his little sister who he remained buried inside on that dorm room floor. She finally spoke to him,

"I love you," she said, almost too quietly for him to hear.

Y/N leaned down and kissed her collarbone, then her neck, her cheek and finally a peck on her lips.

"Love you too," he promised her back.

Minju finally opened her eyes. Seeing her brother above her brought a smile to her face. She felt wonderful... warm and protected under his gaze. He was still hard inside her and she could feel all that cum he'd squirted into her trying to work its way out, though it would have a hard time finding a way with how well her brother's penis filled her tiny tunnel.

Her brother: the now famous... well, somewhat famous quarterback that every girl would be dying to get their hands on. A guy who could have been out scooping up girls on that Saturday night. Instead he'd snuck into HER dorm room, spent the night with ONLY her, and from the way he was looking at her now she didn't believe he had any intention of seeking another.

"You made me cum TWICE...AGAIN!" Minju yelled, almost sounding like she was scolding him. Her brother laughed and then his face showed of pride. He'd never had sex like that with any past girlfriends.

"I know, I guess I just liked seeing you so much the first time."

Minju was running his fingers over his arms as they held him off the floor around her. She giggled when she saw Y/N staring at her breasts like he usually did.

"No," Minju corrected him, "it happened when I felt you cumming in me! It was like one minute I wasn't and then all of the sudden it was so warm and...fuuuuck!"

Y/N couldn't help himself, hearing his baby sister talk about the feeling of him cumming in her pussy, he simply had to shove a little harder against her. They were already touching at the hips but she could feel him push in just a bit more.

"Y/N!" She yelled, slapping her hand against his shoulder, "dooooonn't, I need a little time!"

She smacked him again when she saw him smile like he knew he wasn't supposed to have done that.

"Did you like cumming in me?" she purred.

"Um... duh," he retorted, making Minju roll her eyes.

"I guess that was obvious, you came so much! I can feel it like...everywhere."

It made both Minju and her brother look downward again. He was still lodged inside her and the knowledge was heartwarming to them. Y/N decided to finally withdraw, and though it caused his little sister to growl in protest, he slowly slid his cock out inch by inch; he'd put it back later.

The naughty brunette may have loved seeing her brother's cock inside her, but she had no idea how sexy it would make her feel to see what followed. Right behind Y/N's tip peeked a bead of white cum, her brother's cum, from between her tiny lips. Little by little it snuck out while they both watched. Minju wiggled her thighs together and it made even more sperm flow out.

Y/N marveled at his little sister's incredulous, open-mouthed stare. She looked like the little sister he remembered again, fawning over some present she hadn't expected to receive. It made him unspeakably happy to cause that feeling in her again.

Minju lay there with her brother's spunk working its way out, at least the amount of it that wasn't still spread over every little bit of the eighteen-year old's insides that there was to coat. When she looked at her brother again, she could see that the way she felt about it was mutual. They knew exactly what they had done, the evidence was plain enough: thick and white on Minju's thigh. They knew that they had done something forbidden that would change their relationship forever: the tangible passion between them revealed that. But most importantly, Minju and Y/N knew it was exactly what they wanted, like maybe they'd always been meant to end up as they were now.

"Will you stay with me tonight?" Minju asked him sweetly.

"Ahhh, I don't know," Y/N said, raising his arms over his head and stretching, "I was thinking I might go out with the guys...:"

Minju scoffed, hurt.

Y/N let his teasing sink in, shrugging and letting her believe he might be serious. Finally he reached over and pulled Minju so she rolled partially atop him, flopping there like she had no intention of showing him any affection.

"Of course I'm staying with you Minju'," Y/N assured her. "You didn't really think I'd leave did you?"

"Well I don't know!" She said in a kind of sing-songy voice. "You're some kind of big-deal quarterback now, maybe you didn't want to be stuck in all night with your little sister or something."

"You're a little more than that to me now, don't you think?" Y/N asked. Minju was silent for a few seconds before looking up at him innocently.

"Just a little more?" She asked.

"A lot more," he corrected.

Minju and her brother lay there, thinking hard about what was happening between them and wondering longingly what might be next. Both of them were exhausted, so they slowly drifted off to sleep on that ridiculous shag carpet in Minju's dorm room.

It was hours later when Y/N awoke to find his sister spooned in front of him, clutching his arms and trying to wrap herself as much as possible within his embrace.

All of the realities came back to him at once. He was still in his little sister's room, she was still completely naked in his arms and little by little his erection was making its way between her legs until it pushed its way against the teenager's soft pussy.

"Mnnnnhhh..." Minju cooed sleepily, "what time is it."

It was still dark outside, it might not have even been past midnight. Most girls would be out of the dorms by then if they weren't staying in, so there wasn't a sound beyond Minju's waking breaths.

Feeling her against him, Y/N was helpless to prevent pressuring Minju's innocent mound. She hadn't done anything, but he knew she would feel the tip of his cock in that tantalizing gap between her thighs.

Minju was still sensitive from before, but she wanted him all the same. The feeling of her brother's cock hardening between her legs was so intimate that she sensed her whole body reacting. Without a word, Minju began rotating her hips to provide gentle touches of her inner thighs against the head of her big brother's unspoken contact.

'The way she moved her hips...ohhhman!' Y/N thought. Where did she get that? Did she know that it was the sexiest thing he could imagine? Somewhere along the line, his little sister whom he used to see as this awkward, all knees-and-elbows troublemaker, became irresistibly complicit in their forbidden act of incest. How could he have missed the way her teenage body had filled out, how her face had taken on model-esque features, and as he held Minju's squirming backside against him, how her most unspoken assets were now overpoweringly alluring.

When neither of them could stand it anymore, Minju reached down and gave her brother's desire the proper direction. Both siblings exhaled simultaneously, a sigh of relief at the visceral reminder of their unlocked passion for each other.

But the calm didn't last long, because yet another new position for the inexperienced brunette soon brought cries of ecstasy to each thud of Y/N's pelvis against her. Minju's hands grabbed the carpet, they reached back for her brother's hair, anything they could do to ground her as she approached another earth-shattering orgasm.

Y/N may have prided himself on stamina in the past, but he was no match for the panting, crying and writhing of his little sister. For the third time in however many hours, as she quivered and screamed her way through another climax, Y/N held his sister tight, buried deep in her sweet pussy and flooded her with cum yet again.

Minju cooed praises at her brother as she caught her breath, but he was pretty sure she fell asleep, exhausted, before he could even soften and slip out of her. She might have liked to look once more at the warm stream of her brother's spunk that found its way between her taut lips, but apparently she was content enough to know it was there as she drifted off without him. It was fine with Y/N, though; in the time it took for him to fade back to sleep, he got to hold onto Minju, caress her and marvel at the evolution of his unadulterated love for her.

When light began to peek through the old curtains of the dorm room and chanced across the carpet and Minju's pretty, slumbering face, it woke her from one of the most wonderful night's sleep she could ever remember. How many hours had it been?

Minju turned her head and smiled upon seeing her brother fast asleep with heavy arm over her. God was she crazy about him. Sometime in the future, she and her brother might have to answer some tough questions together, but now it just felt...right.

"Hey big brother," she called, wiggling against him.

Nothing. The big lug, he could sleep through anything. She gave him another jolt.

"Wake up, you big jerk."

Y/N smiled, infinitely happy that the first thing he heard when he woke up was his little sister's voice, and the first thing he felt was her naked body still pressed against him. Of course the second thing he felt was himself hardening.

So did Minju, but for once, reason got the better of her. If light was coming through the window, it was the morning. Depending on how early it was, girls would be stirring in the dorm rooms nearby. It wasn't uncommon to hear cries of passion coming from this room or that, but anyone who heard her last night would probably be curious who had been inside fucking Minju so thoroughly. Y/N had to get out before they were discovered.

She felt her brother's hand on her hip and rolled back toward him. He wanted her, again. It brought the same feeling within Minju to know his desire for her, but she couldn't appease him this time.

"We can't Oppa," she pled, "I know you want to but we can't."

Y/N was confused, he couldn't just NOT react to feeling the eighteen-year-old's toned butt against him or the breast his hand was draped across with her pink nipple gracing his palm. He pulled on her hip again.

"Oppa!" she said, rolling away from him and getting to her feet. Seeing her brother stare at her in admiration made her grin, but it was only for a second because she squinted her eyes at him and continued.

"It's the morning Oppa, you gotta sneak out!"

He hated it, but knew she was right. After all the noise Minju was making last night, he definitely couldn't be seen in the room with her by any of the girls who lived around her. Still he didn't want to give up the access to the naked little brunette standing over him. Minju helped him to his feet and then tossed his clothes at him while Y/N dressed.

She'd put on a silky robe when Y/N looked up from tying his shoes. He loathed seeing her body hidden from his eyes.

"So, things are going to be...like...different now, aren't they?" Minju asked hesitantly, standing a few feet in front of him.

"Different how?" Y/N replied, reaching out and pulling her close with hands around her waist. Y/N continued before Minju could worry any further.

"Different like: I've never felt about anyone the way I do about you?"

Minju's eyes brightened as he went on.

"Different like: I can't imagine that better sex with a more beautiful girl even exists?"

Minju blushed at that.

"Or different like: I know who the first person I call is going to be after practice today, hoping she'll be done with her homework so we can hang out?"

Y/N had gotten to his feet and was looking down into his little sister's eyes when she jumped up and wrapped her legs around him. She kissed him wildly, unable to contain her emotions and joy at knowing everything was going to get better and better with her brother.

Minju didn't even notice that he had walked her across the room until she felt the wall near the door against her back. Reminding her of how he had pinned her and fucked her intently against the door the night before, Minju considered throwing caution to the wind and asking him to stay.

But after a few moments, Y/N let her down to the ground. She stayed on her tiptoes, trying not to lose contact with his lips while he pulled away.

"Wanna go on a date tonight or something?" He asked the disappointed teenager.

Minju looked up at him and shook her head excitedly. Once he got her reply, Y/N turned towards the door and opened it to peek out. The coast looked clear.

Before he could swing the door open, Minju grabbed his hand and pulled it toward her. "Wait, Oppa," she said.

He turned back towards her and admired her gorgeous face for one more time that day. Y/N wanted to remember that cute, recently woken smile she wore during practice that day.

"I love you so much," she told him, once again.

Y/N leaned in for one more kiss on her cute little lips.

"I love you too Minju'," he responded sincerely.

Y/N paused a moment, thinking better of leaving without one more thing. He reached down and uncinched the ribbon around his sister's waist and swiftly reached up to push her robe right off her shoulders.

"There," he said, "that's better."

The image of the nude little eighteen-year-old, his own baby sister, and the wide-eyed, open-mouthed look of astonishment at his shameless act would stick with him for the rest of the day until she was back in his arms again.

Y/N made sure he snuck out of her dorm unseen. He rolled his eyes, overwhelmed knowing that his newfound popularity was going to make visits to Minju's dorm-room almost impossible after last night. Still, all the way home, all the way to practice, every free moment he got Y/N was thinking of Minju. Likewise, Minju spent the better part of her day dreaming of him.

Together, their thoughts were free from doubt or worry, instead full of hope and excitement for what would come next. There was going to be a lot to figure out between them, thought Y/N as he reached for his phone after practice, but he'd do anything to make it work. As Minju's heartbeat danced upon seeing brother's call, she answered knowing that somehow her life was headed in a wonderful new direction.

"Hey you!" she said first.

"Hey, sis, what have you been thinking about today?"

[starandcloud]

Pretty Pumpkin

Solivan Brugmansia x reader

TW: Breaking and Entering, Somnophilia, (slightly) manipulative reader,

Word Count: 3,377

Average reading time: 12 minutes 17 seconds

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You were a smart student, you knew your stuff. Which is how you got here, a scholarship. You were perfect in just about every way, you were smart, graceful, top of the class, and did volunteer work after classes. You worked at the swimming pool during the summer and the plant nursery whenever you could. You were the dream. And the worst part?

You knew it.

You knew the looks you got, but you played it like you didn't. You knew your window lock wouldn't suddenly break, you knew someone had broken in. You noticed when things were moved, but you played along. Along into the sweet little fantasy whoever was trying to spin you into. You installed hidden cameras and watched them in the morning every time you actually slept at your own apartment, you watched as someone entered your room and just... admired you? You were honestly expecting worse, you were expecting a lot worse if you were completely honest. But you didn't know who it was, so you shifted the cameras and that's when you figured it out.

You locked yourself in your closet, the only place with no windows other than the kitchen, and watched the footage. You watched him enter, you listened to him speak and call you a sweet little thing and play with your hair. You could see his gentle smile and you could just feel the love drunk energy from him. You squinted your eyes then you saw it, you saw those green streaks and you smirked.

"Clever boy, what a clever little thing."

You praised Sol as he showed you his math test. Another one. Your hand nestled in his hair and you could feel him tense up under you as that blush stretched over his cheeks. You watched him look away and cover his face with his hand and you faked a pout and showed him your eighty-five percent.

"I did horrible Sol," you whined out and forced your bottom lip to quiver, "I really studied for this one..."

You had a mock sad tone in your voice as you looked down, your hair shifting as you did. You could see him move to comfort you and his hands gently rested on your shoulders, "H-Hey," you listened to him stammer before he calmly explained that you did your best. That's what matters. You leaned into him and gripped the back of his shirt, mock tears in your eyes as your shoulder's shook. Mimicking a cry as you buried your face in his chest, "I-I really tried... I-I don't know what's going on," you forced out with a sad tone, your voice cracking slightly as you did. You felt his arms dip around you and wrap around your waist as he held you close, "m-my grades are just dropping now," your words came out with a whimper as you pushed yourself closer to him, keeping up the act of upset princess, you looked up at him. Tears in your waterline as your bottom lip quivered, "am... am I stupid now Sol," you asked. Watching as he looked down at you with such a tender expression you couldn't help but almost surrender this game you were playing.

"No... no of course not," he whispered as one of his hands came up to your head and delicately pushed it against his chest, "it's just a rough patch. It'll be okay, it's all those holidays recently, that's all."

He promised as he rocked the both of you, you could see your friend close by. You locked eyes with her and gave a little smirk as you rolled your eyes and made a false cry before mouthing 'little games are back' before burying your face in Sol's chest. You felt him hold you tighter and you gently tightened your grip on him, you could feel his heart beat against his ribs and it made you grin. Eventually you pried yourself from him, hiding your face with your hair as you gathered your belongings and laced your fingers with Sol's as the two of you walked towards the library. You needed books for a class, which also gave you another opportunity to act like you needed Sol. Huffing, you reached for another book. It was with in your reach, but you purposely acted like you couldn't reach.

"Sol," you whined out and batted your eyelashes at him, "can you grab that for me?"

You asked with a little jump, making sure to coordinate your movements in such away that the book you wanted was just out of reach. Pouting you stomped your foot slightly and huffed before you felt Sol right behind you, you smirked and watched as his arm went above you and grabbed the book. You whisked around and gave him a hug, "oh you're the best," you exclaimed. Your voice happy and excited, as if he had just done the impossible for you. You felt his hand rest on your shoulder and you looked up at him, you saw him looking away and knew exactly what you were doing to him. Grabbing the book from his hand, you made sure that your fingertips brushed against his arm as you reached up and you leaned your body against him before you finally grabbed the book.

"You're the best Sol, you really are, you're like- the best person ever, and you're super duper smart," you said your voice like honey as you tucked the book into your back and picked it up, "oh I know! Could you tutor me?"

You asked as you tugged your bag over your shoulder and looked over at him, watching his eyes become puzzled and his body tensed as he tried to comprehend what you had just said to him. You watched the gears turn until he figured it out, you watched his face turn a beautiful shade of red and him look away. You knew what the answer would be, 'of course, what subjects?' you knew his sweet little facade all to well. After all, you were playing it too.

The last bell sounded like a starting shot at races, you packed your bag and sent a quick text to Sol; asking if he wanted to hang out. You were meant with an immediate response and you smiled softly before waiting at the school gate. When he came into view you acted all sorts of excited to see him, you bounced on your toes and laced your fingers with his as you lead him towards your apartment. You smiled as you walked around the back with him, telling him you just wanted to check on the little kitty you found the other day, and forced a frown when you didn't see it. Though there was actually a kitten back there the other day, you had already found it's parents, and it was just a ploy. You noticed where the grass seemed to be flatter and ran your fingers over it, helping it stand up right.

"Sol, look at this, a deer must've laid down here last night."

You spoke with a giggle as you pointed out the imprint, you watched as he tensed up and hid your smirk as you watched him try to usher you inside. Saying something about how you must be cold, you couldn't help but laugh as he gently pulled you into your own apartment. You excused yourself and changed into a hoodie and leggings, honestly it wasn't planned. It was just what you were comfortable in, you threw your hair into a bun and sat next to Sol. You pulled out your math books and smiled gently as he started to talk about how to do the math problems you were "having issues with". You nodded and listened intently, you let your hand "accidentally" rest on his thigh as you leaned forward and laid your head against his shoulder. At the end of the study session, you walked him to the door and gave him some food. It was supposed to be your lunch for tomorrow, but here you were, you'd honestly just buy lunch tomorrow at school. It wasn't a big deal, you promised, as you urged him to take the food. Which he did eventually take, you smiled and gave him a tight hug before watching him walk away. You shut your door and then settled on the couch, you turned on a shitty rom-com and watched it until you were bored. You honestly hated those things, but you laughed at every corny joke and made an effort to make yourself look like you were enjoying it.

Later that night, an hour or so later than when you actually went to bed, you were listening to music. Bopping your head around as you cut your eyes towards the window, at the general location you knew he would be. The imprint, which you took a guesstimate at it's location, wasn't far from your window so you just smiled sweetly and then went back to your music. You weren't aware of how quickly he ducked behind the tree and how he clutched his chest or how his blush was bright enough you could've used it as a flashlight. Honestly he wasn't even sure if you even knew he was there, you did, or if you knew if it wasn't a deer but him, you knew, but he let out a shaky breath when your bedroom lights went off. He waited a few minutes before hiking your window open and climbing in, he stood in front of you and pulled his mask down. You heard him approach and felt him sit beside you, so you decided to play a little game with him. You furrowed your brows and muttered out his name in your "sleep", you could hear the gasp that came from him and how his fingers gently brushed over your cheek to feel you against his skin.

"I'm here Pumpkin," he mumbled back, "right here."

He sounded like he was promising that he'd be there when you woke up, you knew he wouldn't be so you shifted close to him. Still feigning sleep as you whined in your sleep as you felt his hand leave your skin. You felt him gently put his hand on yours and his breath against your skin, "so pretty," he muttered before his lips connected with your neck. You could feel how gentle he was trying to be, you could feel how he was trying not to leave a mark as he licked, gently bit, and sucked on your skin. You could feel his want for you through how he breathed and how tender he was, so you let out a little whimper.

"Shit..."

You heard him curse when he pulled away, you felt him stand up and heard him rummage through your drawers. You could hear his panic as he whispered, "where the fuck do they keep their makeup," you heard him yank open another drawer and it clatter to the ground. You stirred in your bed and then you heard nothing. It was a good five minutes before you felt him settle next to you again, his fingers gentle against your neck as he applied concealer to your neck. Hoping you wouldn't notice the hickey in the morning. You kept hearing him mumble about how pretty and perfect you were before he fell silent. So you whimpered out his name in your sleep again, you felt him clutch your hand and press a kiss to your head. You felt his lips trail down your face before he hesitantly pressed a kiss to your lips, a smile stretched across your lips and you stirred in your "sleep" again. You heard him sigh and then whisper out, "I have to go Pumpkin; I love you," before he left. You felt his hand leave yours and the sound of your window sliding open and shut. You waited a few minutes before you navigated through your apartment to the bathroom, you delicately removed the makeup and smirked slightly at the dark mark on your skin. You gently traced the delicate skin and knew what you were doing tomorrow.

You walked into school with a pep in your step, your hair pulled up and away from your neck as you showed off the hickey from Sol. When asked about it you gave a halfhearted shrug before you told them it was a curling iron accident, which most believed. You went about your day until lunch, where you watched Sol freeze in place before you called out to him. You watched his mind buffer for a moment before he continued over to you. Hyugo pointed out the hickey and you cut your eyes at Sol, who choked on his lunch, before you laughed it off and said it was the weirdest thing. You thought just kind woke up with it, but figured you just burned it on the curling iron that morning when you were too tired to comprehend what was going on.

It was a few weeks later when you finally decided to catch him in the act. Humming softly to yourself, you shut your blinds and went about your nightly routine. You hummed softly as you fixed a false body into your bed, made of pillows, some towels, and a wig. You flicked your light off and waited in a dark corner. You watched Sol quietly enter before you took light steps behind him, "Sol," you whispered out as he whipped around. Your delicate fingertips rested against his chest before you pushed him onto your bed, your legs gently straddled his as you sat on his lap. You held his upper body up by his sweatshirt and pulled his mask down.

"How long do you think you could do this for Clever Boy?"

You questioned as your eyes scanned his flushed face, you watched his eyes flick around as he fumbled through words. A sadistic grin crossed your face as you gently took his neck in your hand, squeezing softly before you pulled him close. Your nails digging into his back as you grinned as his dazed out look made a shiver go down your spine, before you clicked your tongue at him.

"My, my, you're pathetic Sol. Utterly pathetic."

The whine that met your ears at your disapproval of him and his actions. Delicately you lead his hand to your waist and you felt his pulse sped up under your fingers, making you laugh.

"God... Getting all worked up, just by touching my waist Sol? God, you're sick..."

You spat, making him look away from you. A mad look in his eyes before you jerked his head back, his face centimeters from yours as you growled lowly.

"I didn't say you could look away Sol. Don't fucking look away from me, don't you dare."

You said, your commands making his eyelashes flutter.

"H-How," Sol started as he tried to hold eye contact with you, "how did you know Pumpkin..?"

His voice came out barely above a whisper and you laughed before pushing his upper body against the bed. You looked down at him with a snarl.

"I'm not an idiot, you moved my food and drinks. Put sleeping medication in them, I'm not an idiot Sol. There's camera's everywhere. I know everything you've done in the past month Sol. So come on, tell me why. Tell me why you did it."

You demanded as he fumbled for answers, though the only pathetic words that left his lips were "love you" and you just wouldn't take that.

"Oh hunny," you coo'd as you pulled him back up and held his face in your hands, "you're sick pathetic bastard. There's no way I could love someone who decided to mark me at night, when they thought I was asleep."

Your voice came out so sweet, but that didn't stop his eyes from getting sad and looking away. If you couldn't love him, why didn't you call the police? Or move? If you couldn't love him, why're you holding him like this? Your hands on his face and sitting in his lap. He was so confused he didn't register his arms wrapping around you, or how you pushed his head against your neck until you spoke.

"So why don't we try that again, hm? Mark me while you know I'm awake Clever Boy..."

Your finger's played with his hair and he delicately kissed you, making sure not to hurt you as he held you tight. You grimaced at his delicate nature and grabbed a handful of his hair before yanking it back, you heard a whimper and saw how his eyes filled with tears.

"If you're not going to take care of me, then I'll find someone who will."

You threatened as you began to get up. Just as you were standing he pulled you back into him and whined, "n-no I can," he whined and buried his face in your neck. Lapping and sucking at the skin, pulling a content hum from your lips. You whimpered softly when he bit down at the skin, that's when the dynamic changed. His hands pulled you closer to him, and he got more aggressive with his assault on your neck. Your whimpers turning into soft moans before you whimpered out his name, a groan came from Sol as you whimpered again. Your eyes rolled back and you gripped at his hair again, this time gentle and desperate as you shuffled closer to him.

"Fuck... you sound so pretty Pumpkin..."

You whimpered quietly at Sol's whispered words your body moved closer to his and you whined softly. You wanted him so badly right now, to feel his touch against your skin. Is this how he felt? Desperate and needy for your touch? You don't remember when he had you underneath him, or when your pajama pants were yanked off but you do remember how his face was buried in your neck and how he whined when his cock was fully inside you. You clung to him, your nails leaving irritated red streaks down his back as he littered your skin with gentle bites and hickies, you choked out a moan when his hips snapped into you. You sobbed out in pleasure, making him stop. You whined and squirmed when he stopped before he kissed you, "are you alright," he murmured out as he gently pulled away from the kiss and stared lovingly down into your eyes. Yours were tear filled and desperate as you nodded, god why did he stop? Was this a punishment? Was he teasing? No... his hands gently held your face as he kissed you again, his thrusts gentle and loving as your eyes fluttered shut. Your arms went around his neck and you pulled him closer, you wanted to feel every inch of his skin on yours.

The morning came and your eyes fluttered open, you were dressed and you smelled pretty. You smelled like your shampoo and like something else... you couldn't even think about it correctly. You couldn't place the smell, and you started to think it was all just a wet dream. You couldn't find anything on your camera's other than you falling asleep. You honestly couldn't remember how you even thought of that for a dream, it upset you the entire walk to school. You didn't think anything was off until Sol wrapped his arms protectively around you and you remembered that gentle touch. You jumped at first before your body unconsciously melted against him, it was then your best friend pointed out the hickies that were poking out from your collar. You flushed a deep red, an actual blush. You couldn't remember the last time your heart beat that fast, which brought a chuckle from Sol as he murmured against your neck.

"You're adorable Pumpkin, did you at least enjoy our fun last night?"

Those words convinced you it wasn't a wet dream and you wanted to curl up and die, smacking Sol's arm you brought a laugh from him and a goofy smile before you felt him kiss the top of your head. You loved this so much, you loved being held, but maybe you only loved it because it was Sol.

[mayday2007]

Daryl Dixon nsfw alphabet

A/N: This is my first time writing smut and posting it on the internet for people to see, so be nice or imma hunt ya down (jkjk). Likes and reblogs are always appreciated. P.S if you see any mistakes, no you don't.

~

A= Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

Contrary to popular opinion, I think that Daryl wouldn't quite get the whole concept of "aftercare" in the beginning. I think that all the poor guy has for reference is porn and Merle, I also recon that he was a virgin. Merle's preferred sex session was a "fuck-and-dump", so Daryl didn't think it was normal for people to "bask in the afterglow". But, eventually, with your guidance, he realised that it wasn't too bad, and gave it a go. Now, he can't have sex and not give you water and cuddles afterwards.

★

B=Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and their partners)

I think Daryl is more of an ass kinda guy. Sure, he likes looking at tits as much as the next dude, but there's something about a woman's ass and hips that draws him in. He likes to squeeze, and grope, anything to get him and you to cum.

He likes his arms and his hands. No two ways about it. I think he likes them because, I mean, they're handy. They are one of the sole reasons why he's helpful. Because he's good with his hands, and he's strong. But he doesn't just like them because of that, he likes them because you've said on multiple occasions that you like them. It makes him feel like a big, strong man.

★

C=Cum (basically anything to do with cum)

Daryl Dixon is a certified creampie lover. He can't help it. It's in his nature. It's just so warm and tight, he never wants to leave, so cumming inside you is his go to thing (if you guys don't have birth control pills, he'll wear a condom, but only until you find another pack, then he's cummin' inside at LEAST three times).

★

D=Dirty secret (a dirty secret of theirs)

He's waiting impatiently for the day that he has the courage to ask you to try bondage with him. The idea of his hands being bound, tied to a chair or bed and having a blindfold on so he can't see shit makes him horny as fuck. Like, he has wet dreams about it. He's laying on the bed, hands and ankles bound to the bed, and a blindfold on while your straddling his lap, doing whatever comes to your head to him... You've woken up in the night to pee and seen him, face flushed and a MASSIVE wet patch in his pants (underwear).

★

E=Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)

Like I said in the first one, I think Daryl is a virgin. He's got all his info about sex from Merle and porn. I mean, he done drugs before, he's jerked off before, but never has he had the opportunity to sink his cock into a woman's tight heat. He just couldn't bring himself to do it. Couldn't find a woman he wanted to give his virginity to. So, he remained a virgin until you came around, then he was fucking you like he should've done when he was a horny teenager.

★

F=Favourite position (this one goes without saying)

I recon cowgirl is his go-to. Like, he's in a daze when your ontop of him, riding him to your heart's content, bouncing eagerly and chasing your high while he just lays/sits there, head spinning and barely being able to form a coherent sentence. But, if not cowgirl then either reverse cowgirl or missionary. Reverse cowgirl has him seeing stars within a record time of about a minute and missionary feels more romantic, like he can connect more with you on a physical and sexual level. For some strange reason, I think he doesn't like doggy style, I think he thinks it's disrespectful.

★

G=Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humourous? etc.)

Too far gone off the deep end of pleasure from the moment he's buried to the hilt inside you to fully comprehend what's going on around him. It scares you sometimes how oblivious he is to the goings on around him. Like, a tree could fall down in your backyard and he's pleasing for you to let him cum.

★

H=Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes?)

Not groomed at all. In fact, I'd even go as far as to say he hasn't shaved since he tried it once when he was 19. He found a razor and tried it, but he didn't like the way it felt, so he never did it again, not that you mind. The carpet does in fact not match the drapes, and is a slightly lighter shade of brown compared to his hair.

★

I=Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He likes to be intimate, but again, the poor guy hasn't a clue what he's doing when it comes to sex, so he tries his best. Once, he found some scented candles and lit them in time for you to come home from whatever chores you were doing that day. Sex lasted a long long time that day.

★

J=Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

When he first met you, it was a rarity to see him out of his tent/house/apartment because he was constantly jacking off thinking about you. He'd never been as horny in his life than he was when you both fist met and began to know eachother. He was constantly inside, stroking his cock and allowing himself to freely fantasize about you: what you would smell like, how you would say his name, his fast or slow you wanted to go with him, the works.

★

K=Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Bondage. Has never done it but wants to do it. He's got a dangerous cream pie/breeding kink too (you can't have one without the other I will bury myself on this hill). He also got a fascination about you choking him. Just, being in your grasp trying to cum with limited oxygen sounds hot to him. But, poor baby's too shy to ask.

★

L=Location (favourite places to do the do)

In bed. It's safe, comfortable and your bathroom isn't too far away. I think he'd be down to do it in the woods, not just because of the primal aspect of being connected with nature or whatever, but like, the woods have been more of a home to Daryl Dixon in his whole life than a house ever was. But, anywhere you want to, he's down. Except in public, the risk of getting caught turns him on a bit but the sensible part of him speaks louder than his dick in this scenario, so he wouldn't be able to do it.

★

M=Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going?)

You, the essence of you, your shampoo and conditioner. Just, standing completely still, arms crossed listening to or watching something and shifting your weight from one foot to a other has him rock hard and ready to go. Like, you could just be sat down and this man is all over you. He's just a horny guy.

★

N=No (something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

Hitting you. Because he had a childhood where being physically punished was a regular thing, he's gone off physical violence completely. I don't even think this man can watch and action movie with too much violence in it, he'll get uncomfortable or have to look away. That's why whenever he has conflict with another human being, he'll keep physical violence to a minimum and opt for shooting them in the head instead. Also, hardcore degradation is an absolute no-no.

★

O=Oral (preference in giving or recieving, skill, etc.)

He prefers to give, eats you out like it's his favourite meal. He's rock hard from the moment he licks the first wet stripe up your dripping wet heat, grinding his hips into the mattress to relieve some of the pressure building up in his cock. When he's on the recieving end, however, it's a whole new story. He's whimpering, holding onto your hair and making a makeshift ponytail so he can bob your head up and down his length, causing you to choke. He doesn't mean to make you gag on his length, but when you suck him off as good as you do, he can't help it.

★

P=Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

To be honest, he starts off every time you have sex slow. He wants to be romantic and sensual, so he tries to take it slow. But, you moaning underneath/ontop of him and the lewd sound of skin slapping against skin has his head in a daze and he can't help but let his body take control and pound into you hard and fast, too eager to make you and himself cum.

★

Q=Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He'd do it, but only if it was safe and you had enough time. He fumbles with his belt when you have quickies. You undress like you've been practicing, only making him harder and fumble more with the belt that he'd somehow end up doing up tighter rather than ridding himself of it.

★

R=Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Yes and no. Yes, because he doesn't want it to be "just sex", he wants it to be fun, and a good time for both of you. But, no, because he hasn't tried it. It took him so long to finally get acclimatised to having sex, since it was so new to him, so why wouldn't it take him long to try something else that was equally as new to him.

★

S=Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Ages. He lasts so long it feels inhuman. At first, he just has one round and leaves, but the more he gets used to it, the more time he's willing to invest in it, the more he's going to put into it and the longer he's gonna last. The regular "fuck" lasts about an hour, and that's only the regular. Sometimes, he comes home and can't do anything else until he's fully rid his mind and body of stress, which can sometimes take a while.

★

T=Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Nope. Absolutely not. He doesn't see the point of it. He enjoys sex enough, so why bring toys into the equation? Also, it's the apocalypse, where the hell is he going to find a sex toy? It's not just that, either. Sex was a whole new thing for him, it took him a while to get used to, and I don't think he'd want to go further than the basics.

★

U=Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Like I said before, I think he'd be too far gone in his visit to cloud 9. But, if he was topping, I think he would tease. Saying foul shit like "ma dirty girl, ya like that?" "ya wanna cum all over this cock, huh?" "wanna fuck your man so badly, don't cha?"

★

V=Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Now, unpopular opinion: Daryl is a moaner. Think about it, he's a quiet man, barely has anything to say during any conversation, no matter how captivating it might be, so it only makes sense that he comes home and has his lover bouncing eagerly on his cock, it just has the poor man in a trance, so he can't help but let out a little noise.

★

W=Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He wants to fuck while your wearing some of his clothing (specifically his angel winged jacket). I think that the sight of your smaller frame in an article of his clothing would make him feral.

★

X=X-ray (let's see what's going on under those clothes)

Baby boy is THICCC wid a triple 'c'. A good length without being stupidly long, so I'd say a good 5-6 inches while soft and a good 6-7 inches fully erect with a slight curve upwards, perfect for hitting that one spot inside you that has your vision blurred and specks of white adorning the outside.

★

Z=Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Well, it depends. If you've been going at it all night, he'd flop down beside you, and be dead ass asleep before he even had a chance to catch his breath. If it's the regular, he'd lay beside you, puffing while his head rests on your chest/your head rests on his chest. He falls asleep fast after the regular if your playing with his hair. Something about it relaxes him I to another dimension of sleep.

★

Tags:

@holdmytesseract @liliesdiary @vaniniweenie @dixons-sunshine @janiehellion @marvelcassey05 @ophelialaufey

[missmaymay13]

complete mess - w.smith

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

w.smith x fem!oc | 3k

masterlist

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

The rink is cold. Not just the kind that stings your nose and cheeks—this cold is bone-deep. Lonely. The kind that settles in your chest and makes your heart feel hollow.

Will leans against the boards during warmups, his stick clutched loosely in one gloved hand. The San Jose Sharks crest weighs heavy on his chest tonight, heavier than it ever has. He should be proud—rookie year, NHL dream realized, playing on the biggest stage in the world.

But all he feels is empty.

Because when he glances up at the stands, he knows she's not there.

She used to be. Every game. Every practice, when she could swing it. Always in that same hoodie—his hoodie—her coffee clasped in both hands like it was the only thing keeping her warm. Or grounded.

April Murray. The girl who knew him before all of this. Who sat with him through draft night, who helped him pick out his first apartment, who walked him through his first panic attack when the pressure of being Will Smith, top pick, future of the franchise became too much to breathe through.

And he let her go.

No—he pushed her away.

He doesn't even remember when it started. Maybe it was after the third game of the season when the headlines started turning. Promising, but inconsistent. Maybe it was when the media began comparing him to players he'd grown up idolizing, asking why he wasn't already there yet. Maybe it was the fourth night in a row he stayed late watching film, trying to be everything for a team that didn't even know how to support him back.

He started canceling plans. Ignoring her texts. Tuning her out when she tried to talk to him about anything not hockey. He blamed it on stress, on timing. On things she couldn't understand.

But she did understand. She always did.

And eventually, she stopped trying.

"Will, I'm not asking you to give it up," she'd said once, quiet and careful. "I just need to know that I still matter to you. That we still matter."

He'd scoffed. Cold. Tired. Empty. "I don't have time for this right now, April."

"Right. You never do."

She didn't cry. Not in front of him.

She just left.

He thought she'd come back. She always had before.

But this time—she didn't.

It's been three weeks since she moved out. Since she left her key on the counter and didn't say goodbye.

And Will? He hasn't scored a point since.

The team says it's a slump. A rough patch. The media calls it nerves. Rookie inconsistency. But Will knows what it really is.

He's a mess without her. A complete f*cking mess.

The kind that can't be taped over or fixed in the weight room. The kind that doesn't go away with a win.

She was the only thing keeping him grounded, keeping him human. And he treated her like a footnote to his career.

Now he's skating on autopilot. Eating alone. Sleeping in a bed that feels too big and too cold. Going home to a condo that still smells like her shampoo and can't be aired out, no matter how many windows he opens.

After the game, he sits in the locker room long after the others have cleared out. His head in his hands, the sharp scent of sweat and gear clawing at his throat.

His phone is on the bench beside him. A message unsent. It's been there for days.

"I'm sorry. I miss you. I don't know who I am without you."

He doesn't send it. Because it's too little, too late.

And maybe she's already moved on.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

Will used to call her his "safe zone." Not to her face—he didn't know how to say that kind of thing back then. But she was. Every time the weight of being Will Smith, the phenom, got too heavy, he'd end up at her off-campus apartment. No questions. No lectures. Just soft music playing from her speaker, ramen on the stove, and her voice cutting through the noise like sunlight through blinds.

It didn't matter that she had three midterms the next day. Or that she'd been pulling double shifts at the campus bookstore just to make rent. When Will called—she answered.

Always.

The first time he cried in front of her, he was sitting on her tiny futon, head in his hands, the pressure of the Frozen Four and NHL scouts looming over his shoulders like ghosts.

"I'm not ready," he'd said. "Everyone thinks I'm ready, but I'm not. I don't even know who I am without hockey."

April didn't try to fix it. She didn't tell him he was wrong or feed him the same lines his coaches did. She just crawled in beside him and pulled his head into her lap, running her fingers through his curls until the shaking in his chest finally stopped.

"You're still Will," she whispered. "You're still mine."

And for that night, it was enough.

She missed her sister's wedding to fly to Denver for the Hockey East semifinals. She called in sick to her internship when he had food poisoning and was throwing up between classes. She sat in hospital waiting rooms when he got concussed freshman year—even though no one would tell her if she was "family."

She was. She always had been. She just never needed the title.

And what did he do when he finally made it?

He forgot.

He let the weight of the NHL chew up his time and spit out his patience. She became background noise—until one day, she was gone, and the silence was deafening.

Now he walks through his condo like a ghost, brushing past memories like cobwebs. Her hoodie still hangs on the coat rack. Her mug is still on the counter. The photos are still framed on the mantle—Boston, Denver, Nashville.

She was always there.

Until she wasn't.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

The worst part wasn't that Will forgot their anniversary. Or that he left the pasta she made untouched on the counter three nights in a row. It wasn't even that he stopped texting goodnight.

The worst part was how he used to care.

Back then, it was little things.

Him dropping off coffee before her 8 a.m. class. Reminding her to eat during midterms. Crawling onto her dorm bed with his laptop open just so she wouldn't feel so alone during late-night study marathons.

"I'll quiz you," he'd offer, head on her stomach, eyes fluttering half-shut from practice. "Just don't make me read the long-ass definitions."

She'd laugh. Toss a pen at his forehead. He'd grin like she hung the stars.

That Will—the one who saw her, who wanted to take care of her too—that's the one she fell in love with.

But the version she followed to San Jose? The one that let hockey consume him? That Will barely remembered she existed.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

She tried to be understanding. God, did she try.

He was under pressure. Rookie year. Big expectations. So she didn't say anything when the late practices turned into full nights at the rink. Didn't complain when he forgot to call. Didn't show him the tears after another solo dinner eaten over the sink.

She told herself it was just a phase.

He loved her. He was just overwhelmed.

So she picked up the pieces. Of him. Of their life. Of herself.

Every rescheduled date, every night he stumbled in hours after midnight with nothing but apologies and excuses—she forgave.

She was fighting her own battles too. Online school had been brutal. Isolation made it worse. Her professors didn't care that she lived on Pacific Time. Her friends were all back in Boston. She'd built a whole life there—one she gave up for him.

But she didn't tell him. He already had too much on his plate.

So she swallowed the words every day until they burned holes in her chest.

Then one day, the letter came.

She almost didn't open it—thought it might be another bill or course notice. But her hands shook as she peeled it open.

"Congratulations. You have fulfilled all requirements for graduation..."

She reread it six times. Finished. Done. Four years of work in two and a half. Through COVID. Through relocations. Through loneliness.

She looked around their apartment—no, his apartment—and realized he didn't even know she'd been close. Hadn't asked. Hadn't cared.

The excitement turned bitter in her mouth.

So she did what she never thought she would. She packed a bag. Called the one person she knew would understand.

Grace.

Will's sister picked her up from the airport that night.

Neither of them spoke for the first five minutes of the drive. Then Grace reached over and took her hand.

"You should've told me sooner."

April's voice cracked. "I didn't want to make you pick sides."

"I would've picked you anyway."

April didn't leave a note. She didn't need to.

He wouldn't have read it.

And to this day, she knows he still doesn't understand.

He knows he pushed her away—knows he f*cked up—but he doesn't know what day it was. Doesn't know the meaning it held. Doesn't know that he missed her biggest moment—because he never thought to ask.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

The air was crisp. Familiar. Healing.

April stood in her cap and gown, surrounded by the people who mattered. Grace. Her old roommates. Her professors. People who saw her, celebrated her, even when she wasn't holding anyone else up.

They took a photo.

Grace posted it later that night.

"Proudest sister moment. Congrats to April for finishing her degree in record time. You're everything and more."

April's smile in that photo was real.

She never saw Will's reaction.

But Grace did.

And she never took the post down.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

Will wasn't even looking at Grace's Instagram when it happened.

One of the rookies was scrolling beside him on the team plane, laughing about some TikTok when he paused and went, "Yo, isn't this your sister?"

Will looked over.

And there it was.

April. In a cap and gown. Grinning, radiant, unrecognizable—in the worst way.

"Congrats to April for finishing her degree in record time."

The words blurred.

Four years. Two and a half. She never told him.

He didn't even know she'd finished.

Didn't know the day she left was the day she got that letter.

Didn't know anything.

His stomach twisted into knots.

And worse—Grace knew. His own sister knew and never said a word.

The next few days, Will couldn't get the image out of his head.

She looked so proud. So sure of herself.

So gone.

His hands shook every time he picked up his phone, hovered over her name. But he never hit send.

When Grace and the family came to San Jose for a home game, it started civil.

Until it wasn't.

It was after dinner. Everyone had gone back to the hotel except Will and Grace. The air was stiff, sharp with unsaid things. Grace stood at the window, arms folded, jaw tight.

Will broke first.

"You couldn't tell me?" His voice cracked. "You let me find out on fcking Instagram*?"

Grace turned slowly, face hard. "You didn't exactly ask."

"Are you serious right now?" he snapped. "She graduated, Grace. I didn't even know she was close!"

"And whose fault is that?"

His hands clenched. "You knew. You picked her up from the airport and didn't say a word. That's—" he choked, voice rising, "—that's a betrayal."

Grace's eyes burned. "No, Will. You betrayed her."

The silence cracked like glass.

"You think I wanted to keep it from you?" she spat. "I had to pick up her pieces because you left her so f*cking shattered she couldn't breathe without crying."

Will staggered back like she'd punched him. "Grace—"

"She used to be everything to you," Grace pushed forward, voice shaking. "She gave up her life, her school, her friends—for you. She didn't ask for much, Will. Just to be seen. Just to feel like she still mattered."

"She did matter," Will argued, weakly.

Grace laughed, bitter and cold. "Then why didn't you act like it?"

He couldn't answer.

"She didn't tell you how hard school was getting," she continued, relentless. "She didn't tell you how alone she felt. You stopped asking. You stopped caring. She cooked you dinners you never touched. She sat alone in your apartment every night waiting for you to come home—hoping you'd remember she existed."

Will turned away, chest heaving, blinking hard against the sting in his eyes.

Grace wasn't done.

"She left on the day she got her graduation letter. You didn't notice. You didn't text. You didn't even call."

He swallowed the lump in his throat. "I didn't know—"

"Exactly," Grace snapped. "That's the problem. You didn't know. You didn't even try to know."

Will dropped into a chair, like the weight finally hit him. Hard.

"She won't go near a rink," Grace added, quieter now. "Not even to watch me coach. She says it makes her sick. You make her sick."

Will stared down at the floor.

"She loved you so much, Will. And you broke her."

The room buzzed with silence. A silence full of anger. Of grief. Of truth.

Will couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. The guilt closed around his chest like a noose.

He wanted to scream. Cry. Take it all back.

But the past didn't give do-overs.

That night, he didn't sleep. He sat in the dark of his condo, scrolling through old photos, old texts, old videos.

April in Boston. April on the beach. April half-asleep in his hoodie, laughing at something he'd said off-camera.

He didn't even know that version of her anymore.

And she sure as hell didn't know this version of him.

He was a complete mess. Without her. Because of her. Because of him.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

Three Years Later

The Boston air smelled like old memories. Like the streets they used to walk, fingers laced between them. Like the rain that had soaked their jackets on late-night campus runs. Like the laughter that once echoed through the Smiths' home when everything still felt whole.

Will was back, older now. Calmer. The NHL didn't rattle him anymore. He'd weathered the pressure, the slumps, the spotlight. But no matter how far he came in his career, he never quite got over her.

He didn't even try.

He never fell in love again. How could he, when no one else even came close?

Grace's engagement party was loud—too many people packed into their childhood home, voices overlapping, champagne flutes clinking. Everyone was glowing, buzzing with joy.

Everyone except Will.

His chest had been tight the entire night, breath caught just under his ribs. Because she was here.

April.

She hadn't changed—at least not in the ways that mattered. Still graceful without trying, still holding herself with that quiet strength. But she was sharper around the edges now. More careful with her smiles. Especially when they were aimed at him.

She didn't look at him the way she used to.

He spent half the night trying to catch her eye. Half the night staring at the empty spot next to him at the dinner table where she should've been. Where she used to always be.

And the other half? He spent wondering if she hated him.

He caught glimpses of her—drifting between rooms, helping Grace in the kitchen, laughing softly with people he didn't recognize. But every time he inched closer, she slipped away. Like a ghost. Like muscle memory.

He almost gave up.

Until he saw her again—alone—in the kitchen.

She was restocking a bowl of crackers, hands moving mechanically, a furrow in her brow like she was willing herself to focus on anything but the memories pressed into these walls.

And then she froze.

She didn't need to look. She felt him.

Will stood in the doorway, hands shoved in his pockets, voice barely above a whisper.

"Can we talk?"

She didn't answer right away. He thought she might say no. Thought she might walk past him the same way she had all night.

But finally, she gave a small nod. Reluctant. Steady. And without a word, they climbed the stairs—like muscle memory.

His childhood room looked exactly the same.

Posters on the wall. Hockey trophies collecting dust. The twin bed still creaking under the weight of too many conversations never finished.

April sat on the edge, hands resting in her lap. Will sat across from her, just barely touching the opposite end of the mattress. The space between them felt like a chasm.

He couldn't look at her at first.

Couldn't even breathe.

He wanted to say so many things—had rehearsed them in the mirror, in hotel rooms, on empty plane rides across the country. But now, nothing came out.

Until—

"Congratulations," he said quietly. "I never got to say it to you. Not on the day. Not in person. But... I want you to know I'm so proud of you. I was then. I still am now."

April's eyes flicked up. Just barely.

He kept going.

"I don't know how I f*cked up so much that I let the one thing that was always so good to me slip away. But god, April. I'm so sorry. You didn't deserve any of that."

His voice cracked.

"You were always there. Always. And I—I took that for granted. I let the game chew me up and spit me out and I just... I let you disappear without ever realizing what I was losing. And by the time I did—it was too late."

He finally looked up. She was watching him.

Tears welled in her eyes, but she didn't cry. Not yet.

"I replay that year in my head all the time," he whispered. "And I think about everything I missed. Everything I should've seen. The way you kept trying. The way you kept choosing me. And I didn't even see how much it cost you to do that."

His hands trembled in his lap.

"I should've asked. I should've noticed. And I didn't. I didn't even know you graduated until I saw it on Grace's f*cking Instagram. And I should've been there. For that. For all of it."

The silence between them buzzed.

Then April's voice, soft but sure:

"It's okay, Will."

He blinked.

She was staring at her hands. Then she looked up.

"I used to think it would never stop hurting. That what you did—what you didn't do—would follow me forever." She paused. Swallowed. "But I grew up too. And I see it differently now. We were young. You were drowning. And I was too scared to admit that I was, too."

She looked down again, her thumbs rubbing circles over each other.

"You hurt me. A lot. But... I know you didn't mean to."

They stayed like that for a long moment.

Then slowly, like gravity pulled them together, they leaned forward. Their foreheads touched, eyes closed. Breathing in the moment. The years. The ache.

His voice came out like wind through a cracked window—shaky, fragile, but certain.

"I still love you so much, April. I never stopped. And I'm sorry I did that to you."

He felt her inhale, felt her hands twitch against her thighs. Then:

"I still love you too, Will."

It wasn't loud. It wasn't dramatic. It didn't need to be.

Because even after all this time— Even after all the distance— They were still in sync.

[starkeyslibrary]

STILL YOURS

sypnosis: When Rafe Cameron left chasing bigger dreams, he never thought he'd lose her along the way. Years later, fate — and one reckless basketball game — brings them back together, but old scars make second chances harder to earn. They aren't the same kids who once promised forever — but maybe this time, love won't have to wait.

pairing: you x rafe cameron

word count: 8.7k

basketballplayer!rafecameron x nurse!reader

Rafe Cameron was feeling himself.

Fresh off a win, city lights glittering outside the stadium, adrenaline still buzzing in his veins. The crowd loved him. His bank accounts loved him. And he loved the way people looked at him - like he was invincible, untouchable, something more than human.

Especially tonight.

After the game, his teammate Jordan had taken a nasty hit - nothing too serious, just some bruised ribs but enough that the team doc wanted him checked out at the nearest hospital just to be safe.

Rafe came along for the ride, mostly out of loyalty, partly out of boredom.

He strolled into the ER with his hoodie up.

And then he saw you.

Across the room, standing at the nurse's station, scrolling through a chart. Hair up in a messy bun. Scrubs hugging your curves. Smirking at something the nurse beside you said - that quick, sharp smile he remembered like a goddamn punch to the gut.

Rafe froze.

No fucking way. You? Here?

The girl who used to patch up his scraped knees and roast him for missing free throws?

The girl he hadn't seen in years, not since he blew out of your shared hometown without looking back. He didn't even think. Didn't stop to question it.

He strode across the room like a man possessed, cocky grin sliding onto his face like armor.

"Well, well, well," he drawled, leaning an elbow on the counter, blocking your view. "If it isn't my favorite nurse."

You looked up, a polite, professional smile already in place, the kind you probably gave to every annoying patient.

Than you actually registered who it was.

Your eyes flickered over him - tall, broad-shouldered, tattoos snaking up his arms and then flicked away like he was nothing special.

"No visitors past this point" you said crisply, barely glancing at him.

Rafe blinked.

You knew exactly who he was. He could see it. You just... didn't care.

And holy shit, if that didn't make something tighten painfully in his chest.

He laughed, flashing that grin that usually had people tripping over themselves.

"Come on, you don't even say hello?" he teased, voice low, coaxing. "It's me, baby."

You raised a brow. "Baby? You been dropped on your head recently, Cameron?"

Jordan, behind him, choked on a laugh. "Jesus," he muttered under his breath. "I like her already."

Rafe ignored him, laser-focused on you.

"You work here?" he asked, folding his arms, tattoos flexing. "Since when?"

You shrugged, flipping a page in the chart, completely unfazed. "Since I decided I deserved better than small-town bullshit."

He grinned wider, loving and hating how you didn't fawn over him. "Better than me, you mean."

You looked him deadly in the eye. Cool. Flat. Deadly.

"You were never on the list."

Jordan wheezed in the background.

Rafe's smirk faltered, just a hair, but he masked it with a low chuckle.

Damn, you were good.

You turned to Jordan without missing a beat. "You the one with the bruised ribs?"

"Yeah," Jordan said, still grinning. "Not broken though, right?"

"Probably just bruised," you confirmed, professional now. "But we'll do a quick scan to be safe. Come with me."

He stood there, reeling.

For the first time in a long, long while, Rafe Cameron didn't know what the hell to do.

FLASHBACK TO WHEN IT ALL FELL APART

It wasn't always like this between you and Rafe.

There was a time, back before the fame, the pressure of being an NBA star, and the endless media coverage - when you were everything to him. Well, almost everything. You'd grown up together, inseperable, sharing secrets and dreams of what the future could hold. He'd never been the cocky athlete, just Rafe, your best friend.

But as soon as he got drafted, everything started to shift. It was gradual at first. Small things, like his texts coming fewer and farther between. The way he started cancelling plans, promising to make it up to you and never doing it. But you didn't think much of it at first - he was busy, right? He was going to be famous, and you were happy for him.

Until one day, you realized that the only time he reached out was when he needed something. When it wasn't about you, it was about him. His schedule, his career, his life. Your texts and calls started going unanswered for days, sometimes weeks. It wasn't like the old Rafe. The one who'd always made time for you, who'd showed up when you needed him.

It happened after that last phone call. The one where you'd finally had enough.

"Rafe, we need to talk," you said, your voice tight with frustration.

It had been a month since you'd last heard from him, and now, you were standing in your apartment, staring at his name on your phone screen as it rang for the third time that week.

You loved him. You did. But he wasn't the same anymore. You weren't even sure you liked the person he was becoming.

You hit "answer" and put the phone to your ear, heart pounding with anticipation.

"Hey," his voice was thick, like he'd just woken up. "Sorry I missed your call."

"Yeah, well, you've been missing a lot of calls lately," you shot back. The frustration in your chest was starting to boil over, but you were trying to keep it cool. "It's been weeks, Rafe. Weeks. And I haven't heard from you once. You know, you could've at least tried to reach out."

There was a pause on the other end, like he didn't really know how to respond. Finally, he spoke again, his tone quieter. "I know. I've been... busy."

"Busy?" you laughed bitterly, the sound hollow. "That's all you've got for me? Busy? You're busy being a superstar, and I'm supposed to just sit around and wait for you?"

"I didn't mean it like that," he said, sounding defensive. "It's just... everything's changed, Y/N. I didn't think you'd understand."

“No, I don’t understand,” you said, your voice rising now. “You used to make time for me. You used to care about me. But now? Now you’ve got a hundred people demanding your attention, and I’m just some background noise. I’m not gonna be a part of your life when it’s convenient, Rafe.”

You could hear him sigh on the other end. "It's not like that. I just... I didn't want things to change, but they have. I didn't mean to push you away."

“Well, you did,” you said, your voice trembling despite your best efforts. “And now it feels like I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

There was a long silence, and for a moment, you thought he might say something — something that would make it better. Something that would make you believe he cared. But then, the truth of it hit you. The truth you’d been avoiding for weeks.

He wasn’t the same Rafe anymore.

The next few days were a blur of heartbreak and anger. You tried to reach out to him again. Texts. Calls. But each time, it felt like a slap in the face. His replies were short, delayed, or non-existent.

And you couldn’t help it. You felt yourself slipping. The Rafe who used to be your best friend, the guy who told you everything, had disappeared. And in his place was a stranger who only remembered you when it was convenient.

The final nail in the coffin came when you saw the pictures.

It was late one night when you scrolled through your social media feed, your heart already heavy from the way things had been going. You should’ve known better than to check, but there it was: Rafe, front and center, surrounded by his new teammates, flashing that signature smirk that made every camera in the room snap photos.

And there was a girl beside him. Pretty, tall, blonde, all smiles, laughing up at him like she was the only person in the world.

You stared at the picture for a long time. The caption was simple: "The squad’s all here. Couldn’t have made it without these guys."

But it wasn’t the picture that stung. It was the realization that Rafe had already moved on. He was already living the life he wanted, and you weren’t even a blip on his radar anymore. The girl in the picture wasn’t you. It never would be again.

That’s when you made the decision.

You stopped calling. You stopped texting. You stopped waiting.

You moved on.

LATER

He waited.

Of course he waited.

Sat in the uncomfortable plastic chair in the waiting room, cap pulled low over his eyes, ignoring the people sneaking glances at him.

He waited until you finally walked back out, clipboard tucked under your arm.

Rafe shot up, following you down the hall.

“Hey, Y/N,” he called, catching up easily. “Hold up.”

You kept walking.

He grabbed your wrist – gently, spinning you to face him.

You glared up at him, unimpressed.

Now, standing in front of him - the man who once meant everything to you - you had to fight the urge to crumble. Your heart was still scarred from the way he'd slipped away so easily. The way he'd left you in the dust when he got what he wanted, like you didn't matter.

"I didn't know you were here," Rafe said, voice quieter but still laced with that trademark arrogance, like he couldn't quite believe you'd slipped past his radar.

"Yeah, well, you didn't exactly make a habit of checking in." You replied harshly, arms crossing over your chest.

He took a lazy step closer, and even though the fluorescent hospital lights weren't exactly forgiving, he still managed to look good enough to ruin a life. Hoodie still up, cap pulled low, but his eyes burning into yours like you were the only person in the room.

You raised your chin, refusing to let him rattle you.

"You were busy," you added with a shrug, the casualness in your voice undercut by pounding of your heart. "Busy being Rafe Cameron: NBA star, city legend, certified heartbreaker."

He chuckled low under his breath, the sound rich and smug. God, he was annoying. God, you hated that part of you still loved it.

"You forgot devastatingly handsome," he said with a wink, stepping even closer.

You rolled your eyes so hard it hurt. "Must've slipped my mind."

Before he could answer, Jordan limped out of one of the side rooms, a grin splitting his face when he spotted you both.

Jordan was cleared. He was fine.

"Hey, Y/N", Jordan called, patting his side. "You fixed me up good. Still breathing. Thanks."

You offered him a smirk. "Miracles happen every day."

Jordan laughed and clapped Rafe on the shoulder. "You ready, man?"

"Yeah," Rafe said easily, but he didn't look at Jordan. His eyes were glued to you.

Jordan noticed, and with a knowing smirk, he started hobblin toward the exit on his own. "I'll be in the car," he called over his shoulder, not even bothering to hide his amusement. "Try not to get kicked out."

You shook your head. "Your friend's gonna need another trip here if he keeps playing wingman for you."

Rafe grinned, undeterred. If anything, he looked even more pleased.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he said, voice dropping a little lower, just for you. “Won’t be the last.”

You opened your mouth to shut him down, to remind him exactly how badly he’d screwed up – but he beat you to it.

“I am not giving up,” Rafe said, and suddenly, there was steel under all that cockiness. “Not this time. You’re not getting rid of me that easy.”

You stared at him, heart thudding.

“You say that now,” you said, folding your arms tighter across your chest. “But give it a week. Maybe two. You’ll be back to your busy, superstar life. Just like before.”

He smiled – slow, lazy and infuriatingly confident.

“Yeah?” he said, cocking his head. “Guess you’ll just have to stick around and find out.”

You huffed a laugh under your breath, because goddammit – he was so annoying. And so gorgeous. And he wasn’t backing down.

“You’re impossible.” You muttered.

He grinned wider, reaching out to tug gently at a loose strand of hair that had fallen from your bun.

“And you’re beautiful,” he said, bold as hell. “Still the best thing I’ve ever seen in this city.”

You glared at him. “Flattery’s not gonna work.”

He just chuckled, stepping back like he had all the time in the world. Like he already knew the game wasn’t over. Not even close.

“See you around, Trouble,” he said, backing toward the exit, hands in his pockets, cap low over his eyes again. “And don’t bother changing your number. You know I’ll still find you.”

Trouble.

He hadn’t called you that since you were kids – back when you’d drag him into late-nigh adventures, when you’d dare him to climb fences and sneak into the empty gym just so you could shoot hoops under the stars.

Back when you were his whole damn world.

And with a cocky salute and a wink, Rafe Cameron disappeared through the ER doors. Leaving you staring after him, heart pounding, pulse racing and a very, very dangerous smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

A FEW DAYS LATER

You figured he’d get bored.

You figured he’d move on.

He was Rafe Cameron, after all, the guy who had an attention span about as long as a TikTok video and an ego big enough to feed a whole village.

You were wrong.

It started the very next morning.

A knock at your door – way too early, interrupted your sad attempt at sleeping in after a night shift.

You opened it, bleary-eyes and wearing old sweatpants, expecting Amazon or a neighbour or maybe some aggressive Girl Scout.

Instead?

A huge, obnoxiously gorgeous bouquet of flowers was waiting on your doorstep. Roses, lilies and some wildflowers you didn’t even know the names of – so big you could barely see the delivery guy behind them.

There was a card tucked into the mess of blooms.

You rolled your eyes but snatched it up anyway.

In his messy, familiar scrawl, it read:

“Since I never properly apologized for being an idiot. This is step one. Step two’s gonna be way more fun. – Trouble’s #1 Fan.”

You let out an involuntary laugh – a real one, before quickly thanking the delivery guy and slamming the door, cheeks burning.

Cocky. Arrogant. Bastard.

And then, somehow, it got worse.

Everywhere you went – the hospital, the little coffee shop near work, even the damn gym where you took your pilates classes – he showed up.

Always casual. Confident. Always looking at you like you hung the damn stars.

At work, he started showing up with Jordan – who, for some reason, seemed way too amused by all of it.

Jordan would limp into the ER, milking his injury for all it was worth, while Rafe would lean against the wall like he had all the time in the world, cap pulled low, hoodie half-zipped, giving you that stupid, heart-melting smirk.

"You sure you don’t need to check me out, too, Trouble?" he’d call, hand pressed to his chest dramatically. "I think my heart’s bruised."

You didn’t even blink. "You think you have one?"

Jordan almost collapsed laughing.

Another time, you spotted him across the hospital cafeteria, holding a smoothie cup in both hands — the kind the nurses always fought over when the shifts got long — waving it at you like a bribe.

You tried to ignore him.

You really did.

But every time you turned around, he was there — cocky, relentless, unbothered.

And somehow... underneath it all, sincere. Every flower, every smoothie, every shameless wink — it chipped away at you, little by little.

LATER THAT NIGHT

Loss. You should’ve been used it by now.

It came with the job, you knew that. Sometimes you fought like hell and it still wasn’t enough.

But tonight... it hit different.

The patient had been young. Too young.

One minute you were laughing with them, promising they’d be fine. The next, you were watching monitors flatline while doctors shouted and hands moved too fast to make a difference.

You stayed until the family came. You stayed until the room was cleared. You stayed until the hospital felt like it was swallowing you whole.

And when your shift finally ended, you dragged yourself out into the dark parking lot — bone-tired, heart heavier than it had been in months.

You didn’t even see him at first.

Not until you reached your car, fumbling your keys, and a voice cut through the night.

"Baby."

You turned sharply, breath catching.

Rafe.

Leaning against the hood of his own car a few spaces away, cap low, hoodie zipped halfway up, hands shoved in his pockets — like he’d been waiting for hours.

He pushed off the car slowly, crossing the few feet between you.

And for once... he didn’t smirk.

He didn’t crack a joke.

He just looked at you — really looked — and somehow, he knew.

Your throat tightened painfully.

"I’m fine," you said automatically, wiping at your face even though you weren't sure if there were actual tears yet.

"Bullshit," he said quietly.

You laughed — a hollow, broken sound — and shook your head.

"Not everything’s a game, Rafe."

"I know," he said.

He reached out, hand hovering — not grabbing, not pushing, just offering.

And for once, you didn’t shove him away.

You let him cup the side of your face, rough palm gentle against your cheek.

"You don’t always have to be the strongest one, Trouble," he murmured. "Not with me."

Something inside you cracked at that — sharp and aching.

Because you remembered, now.

This was why it hurt so much when he left all those years ago.

Because even then — arrogant, reckless, stubborn — Rafe Cameron had always made you feel seen. Made you feel safe.

Even when you hated him for it.

You leaned into his hand, just barely, letting your eyes flutter shut for one brief second.

Just breathing.

Just feeling.

And when you opened them again, he was still there — still steady, still waiting — blue eyes locked on yours like you were the only thing that mattered.

"I’m not giving up on you," he said, voice low and certain. "You can hate me. You can run. I don’t give a shit. I’m still gonna be here."

Your heart twisted so hard it hurt.

Goddamn him.

Goddamn him for making you want to believe again.

You swallowed hard, blinking back the sting in your eyes.

"You’re such a pain in my ass," you whispered.

Rafe just grinned — that stupid, heart-aching grin — like he was proud of it.

He let his hand drop slowly from your cheek, but he didn’t step away.

Instead, he tilted his head toward the parking lot behind him.

"Come on," he said. "Let me drive you home."

You opened your mouth — to protest, to tell him you could handle yourself — but the exhaustion caught up with you all at once, weighing down your limbs, your chest, your heart.

And the truth was...

You didn’t want to be alone tonight.

You nodded once, silent.

He exhaled softly — almost like he’d been holding his breath — and led you to his car without another word.

The car was warm and quiet, the faint hum of the engine filling the silence.

He didn’t blast music like he usually did. No cocky rap songs. No show-off playlists.

Just the soft buzz of the heater and the occasional swipe of the windshield wipers.

You stared out the window, watching the city blur past in a mess of neon and rain-slicked streets.

After a minute, you felt him glance over at you.

"You okay?" he asked, voice low — not the teasing, cocky tone he usually used — but something careful. Gentle.

You swallowed hard, fingers tightening in your lap.

"No," you said honestly. "Not really."

You half-expected him to make a joke, to deflect, to do something Rafe.

But he just nodded, hands loose on the steering wheel, giving you space to breathe.

"You wanna talk about it?" he asked, quieter.

You hesitated.

And then, for some reason you couldn’t quite explain — maybe because it was dark, maybe because you were tired, maybe because it was him — you started talking.

You told him about the patient. About how helpless you felt. About how no matter how many times it happened, it never got easier.

He didn’t interrupt.

He didn’t offer dumb advice.

He just listened.

Really listened.

When you finished — voice thick and raw — he was quiet for a beat.

Then he said, simply, "I'm sorry, Trouble. You didn’t deserve that kind of day."

You blinked fast, staring hard out the window so he wouldn't see the tears trying to burn their way free again.

Another few blocks of silence stretched out between you — but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

It was... safe.

"You know," he said after a while, glancing sideways at you with a half-smirk, "if you ever get tired of saving lives, you could come be my personal trainer or something."

You snorted. Loudly. "Yeah, because coaching your lazy ass to do two push ups is really gonna heal my emotional trauma."

He laughed — a real, full-body laugh — and you found yourself smiling despite everything.

"There she is," he said softly.

You shook your head, biting back a smile.

"You’re unbelievable."

"I know," he said easily. "But you love it."

He pulled up to your curb and put the car in park, but didn’t kill the engine.

Neither of you moved.

You fiddled with the strap of your bag, suddenly nervous.

"Thanks for the ride," you said finally, voice small.

He reached over, his fingers brushing yours lightly — a barely-there touch, but enough to ground you.

"Anytime, Trouble," he murmured. "You don't have to do everything alone, you know."

You opened the door, stepping out into the cool night air — but before you closed it, you leaned down slightly, meeting his eyes across the cab.

"I’m not ready to forgive you," you said, honest and sharp.

"I know," he said — steady, sure. "I’ll wait."

Your heart twisted painfully.

Stupid Rafe Cameron. Stupid loyalty. Stupid beautiful, reckless, infuriating boy who somehow still knew exactly how to get past your walls without even trying.

You closed the door without another word and hurried up the steps to your apartment — refusing to look back.

But you didn’t have to.

You knew he stayed parked there for a few minutes longer, engine rumbling softly in the night, watching over you until your light switched on upstairs.

Just like he always used to.

Just like he promised he would.

THE NEXT MORNING

You were exhausted when you finally stumbled into bed last night, still reeling from everything — the patient, the parking lot, Rafe.

You thought maybe you’d dream about it.

But instead, you woke up to your phone buzzing loudly against your nightstand.

You groaned, burying your face in your pillow, but finally cracked one eye open enough to check the notification.

1 New Message: Unknown Number

Your heart stuttered.

You opened it.

Rafe Cameron: Hope you’re free tonight, Trouble. Left you a little something downstairs. Wear it loud. Front row’s waiting for you.

Your stomach dropped — in a good way — as you sat up quickly, shoving the blankets off.

You padded down the stairs to the lobby of your building where the sleepy concierge waved you over.

“There’s a package for you,” he said, lifting a sleek black box.

Your name was scrawled across the top in familiar, messy handwriting.

Inside:   — Two front-row ticket to tonight's game.   — One official jersey.

Not just any jersey. His jersey. Cameron.   #10.   And tucked between the folds of fabric — a tiny handwritten note:

Thought you might need something to wear when you’re screaming my name.

Cocky, arrogant, infuriating.

You laughed — actually laughed — shaking your head.

God, he was impossible.

You wore the damn jersey. (Over your loudest protests. Your best friend practically forced you into it.)

The crowd was insane, energy buzzing through the stadium as you slid into your seats right on the court line.

Your friend nudged you, smirking. “Bet he’s showing off just for you.”

You rolled your eyes.

Right as Rafe jogged onto the court — hoodie peeled off, tattoos on full display — he glanced toward your section.

Caught your eyes instantly.

Grinned. Winked. Winked.

And the whole stadium erupted like he just hit a three-pointer from half-court.

Your face burned as you sank lower into your seat, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him.

He played like a man possessed — quick, reckless, cocky as hell — and you hated how your heart raced every time he scored, flashing a grin like he knew you were watching.

But then late in the third quarter, It happened.

Rafe drove toward the basket, got clipped mid-air, and hit the court hard.

The whole stadium gasped.

You shot to your feet before you even realized it.

Trainers rushed onto the court. His teammates circled him. And you — heart hammering against your ribs — could only watch helplessly.

He sat up after a few tense seconds, rubbing his knee, wincing — but waved off the stretcher.

Still, he limped off the court, refusing to meet anyone's eyes.

Stubborn idiot.

Your friend grabbed your arm. "Stay calm. He’s fine. You know he’s a cockroach."

You wanted to laugh. You wanted to scream.

You wanted to see him.

As soon as the final buzzer blared — the win barely registering in your brain — you bolted toward the tunnels, trying to push through the crowd.

Security immediately stepped in, blocking your path.

“No entry, miss.”

“I’m not — he knows me! Rafe Cameron, we grew up together, I swear—” you said quickly, heart racing.

“Sure, sure," the guard muttered, already looking away.

You were about to lose it —   Until a familiar voice called out:

"Yo! She’s good."

You whipped around.

Jordan.

He jogged over, flashing a grin. "Come on, Y/N. Pretty sure he's been waiting for you all damn night."

You sagged in relief, flashing him a grateful look.

Your friend squealed as Jordan casually threw his arm around her, steering her back toward the players' lounge with a wink.

You barely heard them — already jogging toward the locker rooms.

You hesitated outside the heavy door, nerves buzzing under your skin. This was dumb. He probably had trainers, doctors, managers — a whole parade of people taking care of him. 

He didn’t need you.

You were about to turn away when the door cracked open.

And there he was.

Rafe stepped out into the hall, towel slung around his neck, hair damp, white tee stretched across his broad shoulders. His knee was wrapped, but he was walking — stiffly, carefully — and thank god he wasn’t seriously hurt.

He froze the second he saw you.

The cocky grin slid across his face like it was second nature, but there was something softer hiding underneath it. Something almost careful.

"Told you the jersey'd look good on you," he rasped.

You tried to glare — you really did — but your chest was too tight, relief crashing through you like a damn tidal wave.

"You scared the shit out of me, Cameron," you said, punching his shoulder lightly.

He shrugged, easy and casual — like it was nothing — but you saw the way his eyes clung to you.

Like you were something he wasn’t ready to let go of again.

You shifted on your feet, hesitating, then blurted it out before you could lose your nerve:

"Are you okay?"

The words were barely a whisper over the noise of the stadium still echoing down the halls.

Rafe’s smile tilted, slow and lazy — but his eyes... His eyes softened in a way that punched the air right out of your lungs.

He stepped closer, enough that you had to tilt your chin up to meet his gaze.

"Yeah," he said, voice rough.  "I am now."

And the way he said it — low, certain, like it was the only thing in the whole damn world that mattered — made your heart break and heal all at once.

For a second, neither of you said anything.

It was just the two of you standing in that too-bright hallway, years of mistakes and missed chances hanging heavy between you.

Then he nudged your chin up with the back of his knuckles — soft, careful — and gave you that shit-eating grin you used to hate, but now... Now it just made your knees a little weaker.

"Come on, Trouble," he drawled. "I’m driving you home. Doctor’s orders."

You tried to roll your eyes, but it came out more like a breathless laugh. "You're not a doctor, Rafe."

"Good thing you are," he quipped, already steering you down the hall with his hand resting low on your back. "Means if I pass out behind the wheel, you can save me."

You snorted. "You're unbelievable."

He winked as he pushed open the side door leading to the players’ lot.

The inside of his blacked-out Mercedes was warm and quiet, a weird little bubble separate from the world.

You watched the city lights blur past the window for a moment, trying to get your heart to slow down.

"You sure you’re okay?" you asked again, voice softer this time.

Rafe glanced at you sideways, something serious flickering across his face.

"I’m good," he said. Then added, lower, "Better now."

Your throat tightened stupidly.

You shook your head, laughing under your breath. "So cocky."

"You love it," he said easily.

You opened your mouth to argue — but stopped.

Because honestly? You kind of did.

Loved the way he made you feel seen. Loved the way he didn’t let you hide behind your walls. Loved the way he was trying — really trying — even if he still did it with that reckless, arrogant Rafe Cameron brand of chaos.

The drive continued in comfortable silence until Rafe pulled off the highway. The gentle rumble of the engine and the hum of the city around you felt like a little private bubble.

 “Uh…” Rafe glanced over at you, a little unsure. “I, uh, I was thinking... you wanna come over to my place instead? I’m sure you’ve got a lot on your mind, and honestly, I could use some company. Unless, you know, that’s too much or something.”

His voice trailed off at the end, but you could feel the tension in his hands tightening on the wheel.

You blinked, a little caught off guard by the invitation. “You’re asking me to your place after all that... cocky, charming stuff?”

He gave you a look, the one that said don’t test me, but it was softer than usual. “Yeah. And if you say no, I’ll just drive you home, I guess. No big deal.”

You smiled, and maybe you surprised yourself more than you surprised him. “Alright. Let’s go.”

Rafe’s grin was back in full force as he drove toward his apartment, the city lights flickering outside like a trail behind you. Meanwhile, you couldn’t stop the excitement that curled inside you.

You hadn’t expected this — hadn’t expected the nerves and the awkwardness that hit you as you stepped into his apartment. It wasn’t anything like you remembered. No more leftover pizza boxes or half-empty beer cans scattered across the place. This was clean. Sophisticated. Almost like he was trying to give off a “mature” vibe.

You could feel Rafe's eyes on you as you took in the space. It was cozy, but minimalist. The kitchen was sleek, the furniture modern and dark, the walls adorned with framed art you figured he probably picked up on one of his international trips. He’d clearly put thought into it, something that made you feel like you didn’t really know the guy who’d once been so reckless with his life, so careless about everything that mattered.

He kicked off his shoes and collapsed onto the couch, throwing an arm across the back like he owned the place. His gaze flicked toward you, cocky grin in place, but there was something else there too — something softer.

“Make yourself at home, Trouble. Gotta warn you though, I’m a pretty bad roommate.” His grin spread wider.

You arched an eyebrow as you slid onto the couch beside him, the comfortable distance you used to maintain now completely absent. The familiar scent of his cologne wrapped around you, mixed with the fresh smell of his apartment. It was strange, this feeling of both familiarity and unfamiliarity all at once.

"Let me guess, you leave your dirty socks everywhere?" You smirked, trying to fall back into the old rhythm.

He chuckled, leaning back and stretching his arms behind his head. "I was gonna say I don't do dishes, but sure, I leave socks everywhere too."

You laughed, but your heart wasn’t really in it. There was so much you wanted to say to him. So much that you didn’t know how to say.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, you glanced at him, trying to gauge where his head was. "You’ve changed, you know that?"

He turned his head, meeting your gaze, a small frown forming on his lips. "You mean for the better, right?"

You shrugged, leaning back on the couch as your eyes met his. "Maybe. It's just... I don’t know. You’re different now. But you still have that Rafe Cameron cockiness."

"Can’t get rid of that if I tried," he said with a wink. "And I’m not sure I want to."

His eyes softened, a glimmer of something deeper flickering in his gaze. The cocky front was still there, but now there was more to it — something vulnerable, something real.

You shifted, suddenly feeling more exposed than you had earlier that night. "I just... I don’t know how you do it. You left. No calls, no texts. Nothing. I had to move on, and you just... disappeared." The words came out sharper than you intended, and you winced.

He didn’t flinch. Instead, he let out a long breath and sat up, turning toward you. “I didn’t want to hurt you, Y/N. I never wanted to make you feel like you were... nothing. I was an idiot. I didn’t know how to handle everything back then. I thought distancing myself would make it easier for both of us.”

You let out a shaky breath, your hands tightening in your lap. "It didn’t. I spent years wondering what happened, why you didn’t even try. And every time I saw you on TV, I hated myself for still caring."

Rafe’s expression hardened slightly, but he didn’t look away. "I get it. I was selfish. I didn’t want to drag you into my mess, and I was so consumed with the game... I pushed everyone away. You didn’t deserve that."

The air between you grew heavier, but there was something else too. Something you hadn’t expected. A quiet understanding. The gap between the past and the present was closing, but there was still a lot left unsaid.

He reached out slowly, brushing his thumb across the back of your hand — a soft, careful touch. “I’m sorry, Y/N. For everything. I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.”

You swallowed, the lump in your throat growing. You hadn’t realized just how much you needed to hear that until now. It was like he was giving you permission to let the past go — permission to not carry that weight anymore.

But instead of responding right away, you just nodded, your hand still resting in his. "It’s... it’s okay. You’re here now. And I guess that’s all that matters."

For the first time that night, you saw the cocky edge fade entirely from Rafe's face. It wasn’t just an apology. There was something deeper there — regret, pain, maybe even longing.

He gave a small smile and pulled back a little, then grabbed the remote from the coffee table. “Wanna watch a game? Or... I don’t know, we could binge-watch something ridiculous?”

You snorted, a smile tugging at your lips. “Do you even know how to relax without a ball in your hand?”

His grin was wide and mischievous. “Not really.”

You didn't remember falling asleep.

One second you were side by side on the couch, half-watching some ridiculous show Rafe picked out, the soft hum of the TV filling the space between you. The next, the world blurred into darkness.

When you blinked awake, early morning sunlight was bleeding through the blinds, casting lazy strips of gold across the apartment.

And Rafe was still there.

Your head was on his chest. His arm was draped around you, loose but steady, like he’d just anchored you there without even thinking. His hoodie had ridden up slightly, exposing a strip of warm skin, and you hated — hated — how good it felt to be this close again.

For a long moment, you didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

You could feel the slow, even rise and fall of his chest beneath you. You could hear the faint, steady beat of his heart.

It felt safe.

It felt dangerous.

You shifted slightly, trying to untangle yourself without waking him — but the second you moved, his arm tightened instinctively, pulling you closer.

"Where you going, baby?" he mumbled, voice rough and sleep-warm.

You froze, caught.

"I should..." you started, words catching awkwardly in your throat. "I should go."

His fingers brushed lightly up and down your arm, a slow, absent-minded touch that made your skin shiver.

"You don’t have to," Rafe said softly. No cocky smirk. No teasing. Just honesty. "You don’t have to run."

You closed your eyes, fighting the sting behind them.

He made it sound so simple.

Like after everything — the missed calls, the empty silences, the years of pretending you didn’t miss him — you could just stay. Like it was that easy.

"You don't get it," you whispered, voice shaking despite your best efforts. "You broke my heart, Rafe."

You felt him go still beneath you. Completely still.

And then he shifted — slow, careful — until you were looking at him.

His hair was a mess, eyes still heavy with sleep, but there was something raw in his gaze. Something that stripped you bare.

"I know," he said, voice low and rough. "And I'd spend the rest of my life trying to put it back together if you'd let me."

Your heart cracked wide open.

You shook your head, blinking fast. "You can’t just... say things like that."

"Why not?" he said, and there was no hesitation, no bravado.

Just Rafe. The boy who used to follow you anywhere. The boy you used to trust with everything.

"Because I might believe you," you whispered.

Silence stretched between you.

Then, so carefully you barely felt it — Rafe reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering against your jaw.

"I'm counting on it," he said.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself believe it..

You weren' sure when it had shifted. When seeing Rafe everywhere stopped feeling like an accident and started feeling... inevitable.

It wasn't grand gestures. It wasn't sweeping apologies or dramatic confessions.

It was the way he kept showing up. Quiet. Consistent. There when you needed him. There when you didn't even realize you did.

A coffee left on the hood of your car after a brutal shift. A smoothie shoved into your hand after pilates with a lazy "you're welcome, Trouble."

A quiet presence leaning against his truck, waiting outside the hospital just to walk to your car.

You told yourself you were annoyed. You told yourself it didn't matter.

But somewhere along the way, the anger stopped feeling sharp. And started feeling a lot like hope.

Today, today he was pushing a little.

You were stepping out of the hospital after another brutal shift when you spotted him, leaning casually against his car, cap low.

He straightened up when he saw you, a lazy smirk pulling at his mouth.

You groaned immediately. "What now, Cameron?"

"Good shift, baby?" he asked, ignoring the bite in your tone.

You narrowed your eyes. "Don't."

He grinned wider, cocky and smug, but there was something softer under it. He shoved his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels.

"So," he drawled. "Got plans tonight?"

You eyed him suspiciously. "Why?"

Rafe shrugged, all casual arrogance. "Big game. Afterparty. Open bar. A table reserved. Could use a date."

Your stomach flipped.

You hated how easily he could still do that to you.

"Get Jordan to be your date," you said dryly, stepping around him toward your car.

Rafe matched your pace easily, his voice dropping low and teasing as he followed. "Jordan said he's busy. Something about your friend. Looks like it’s just you and me."

You threw a glare over your shoulder. "I'm not your backup plan, Rafe."

He caught your wrist gently, pulling you to a stop. Not hard. Not demanding. Just... there.

"You were never a backup plan," he said, voice quieter now. "Not then. Not now."

You stared at him, your heart hammering.

For once, he wasn’t hiding behind cocky jokes or stupid winks. He just looked at you — the way he used to, before everything got so damn complicated.

"Come with me," he said. "Tonight. No games."

You swallowed hard, the war raging inside you — old anger, old hurt, old love — crashing like waves.

But somewhere deep down, you knew...

You were tired of pretending.

Tired of lying to yourself.

Tired of pretending he didn't still have you.

You exhaled slowly. "Fine," you said, pretending to be annoyed. "But if you start acting like an arrogant asshole, I’m leaving without saying goodbye."

Rafe grinned, that cocky light flickering back into his eyes. "Wouldn’t dream of it, Trouble."

The bar was packed.

Rafe was still in his post-game clothes — black jeans, a hoodie zipped halfway up, cap tugged low.

You wore simple jeans and a leather jacket over his jersey, feeling oddly exposed but somehow right next to him.

People kept coming up to him — fans, random strangers — and he dealt with it all with lazy charm.

But his hand never left the small of your back.

Every time someone tried to pull him away, his fingers would brush your hip, reminding you: I'm still here.

And when Jordan finally showed up his arm slung around your best friend, who looked way too happy for someone who’d spent the whole night pretending she didn’t like him — Rafe leaned down, voice low against your ear.

"Wanna get outta here?"

The brush of his lips against your skin made your whole body tense.

You turned your head, your breath catching when you found yourself inches from his face.

“Where would we go?” you asked, voice lower than you meant.

His grin was slow. Dangerous.

"Anywhere you want, Trouble."

The air was cool and crisp when you stepped out into the parking lot. The noise from the bar faded behind you, swallowed by the night. You tugged your jacket tighter around you, feeling suddenly, stupidly exposed.

Rafe stayed close behind, just like he had all night — his presence a solid, steady thing at your back.

His hand brushed yours — light, casual, but not accidental. You knew him too well.

You reached his car and paused, the sharp scent of leather and cologne wrapping around you as he leaned lazily against the door.

He was looking at you — really looking — like he wasn’t in a rush, like he had nowhere else to be but here, waiting for you to decide.

"You're thinking too much again," he said, his voice low and warm, almost a smile.

You huffed a laugh, pushing a hand through your hair. "That’s rich, coming from you."

Rafe tilted his head, his cap casting a shadow over his eyes, but you could still see it — the softness. The patience. The want.

"You don’t have to figure it out tonight," he said, voice a little rougher now. "You don’t have to figure me out, either."

You stared at him, chest tight, heart stupidly loud in your ears.

Because he meant it.

For the first time ever — no games, no cocky smiles covering it up — Rafe Cameron was standing there asking for nothing but whatever you were willing to give.

No pressure. No demands.

Just... him.

And something in you — something tired and stubborn and scared — finally cracked wide open.

You stepped closer before you could think, before you could stop yourself. Close enough to feel the heat radiating off him.

Rafe froze, his body going perfectly still — like if he moved, you might bolt.

You stared up at him, at the familiar tilt of his mouth, the blue of his eyes, the way his hands twitched like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t dare.

And then — almost without meaning to — your hands found the collar of his hoodie.

You tugged him down.

Soft.

Careful.

Like you were remembering him all over again.

You kissed him — a brush of your lips against his, fleeting but so full of everything you’d left unsaid.

You pulled back barely an inch, breathing hard, heart crashing against your ribs.

And Rafe... Rafe just stared at you, dazed, stunned.

Like you’d just punched him in the chest.

"You’re dangerous, Trouble," he rasped, his voice wrecked and raw, a crooked grin pulling at his mouth even as something fierce and bright flared behind his eyes.

You smirked up at him, cocky and confident and shaking like a leaf inside.

"Payback," you whispered.

For leaving. For hurting you. For making you fall first.

You started to pull back — teasing, playful, in control again.

But he didn’t let you.

One of Rafe’s hands caught your waist, the other finding the side of your neck — big, warm, a little rough — and then he was kissing you back.

Deeper. Slower. Like he had all the time in the goddamn world to undo every bad thing he'd ever done.

You gasped softly into his mouth, your hands fisting in the fabric of his hoodie as he kissed you like he was trying to memorize you. Trying to make up for every second he hadn’t been there.

The kiss broke finally, both of you breathing hard, foreheads pressed together in the dark.

Neither of you moved. Neither of you wanted to.

"You kill me," he whispered against your skin.

"You deserve it," you whispered back, but it came out more fond than cutting.

He chuckled low under his breath, that soft laugh that you hadn’t realized you missed until now.

Rafe pulled back just enough to look at you — really look — and god, the way he looked at you.

Like you were it. Like you always had been. Like you always would be.

“Come home with me,” he said quietly, almost like a question.

Your heart slammed against your ribs — because you knew he didn’t mean it in a reckless way.

He meant just this. Tonight. Simple. Safe.

Just you and him and nothing else.

You nodded once, biting your lip to hold back the smile that wanted to escape.

He exhaled a shaky breath like you’d just given him the world.

And when he opened the car door for you, slipping into the driver’s seat with one last, lingering glance your way, you realized maybe — just maybe — you were finally ready to let him have it.

Not all at once.

Not perfectly.

But piece by stubborn piece.

The way only Rafe Cameron ever could.

The drive to his place was quiet, a different kind of quiet this time. Not awkward. Not tense. Just full — with things neither of you needed to say out loud anymore.

When he pulled into the garage and shut off the engine, he looked over at you.

No cocky smirk. No teasing grin.

Just him. Open. Real.

"You sure about this?" he asked, voice low.

You smiled, small but sure. "Yeah."

That was all he needed.

Inside, the place was dim, the city lights spilling in through the windows. You dropped your bag near the door, kicking your shoes off. Rafe followed behind you, quiet, his hands jammed in his pockets like he didn’t trust himself not to reach for you too fast.

You sat on the couch, pulling your knees up under you.

He dropped beside you — close enough that his thigh brushed yours, but not pushing.

For a minute, neither of you spoke. The TV was on low — some mindless highlights from the game — but you barely heard it.

You turned to him slowly.

He was already watching you.

Always watching you.

"What?" you whispered, a tiny smirk tugging at your mouth.

Rafe shook his head, his grin soft — the kind he never showed anyone else. "You," he said simply. "Just you."

You felt your face heat, and you nudged him lightly with your shoulder. "You're gonna make me puke with all that sweetness, Cameron."

He chuckled under his breath, looking down like he was debating something. When he looked up again, his eyes were brighter somehow — rawer.

"I’m serious, Y/N," he said, voice rough. "I spent so long being a selfish asshole. Pushing you away. Chasing shit that never meant anything."

He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands dangling loose — a picture of casual, except for the way his shoulders were so tense he looked ready to snap.

"And all it did was make me realize..." He swallowed hard, shaking his head like he hated how stupid he sounded. "I never stopped loving you."

Your breath caught — sharp and sudden.

He glanced at you — fast, nervous — like he wasn’t sure if he should keep going.

But you didn’t pull away.

You didn’t move at all.

"I still love you," he said, quieter now. "Probably always will."

You stared at him, chest aching, every part of you thundering.

Because this wasn’t some big, planned speech. This wasn’t him trying to win.

It was just him.

Simple. Messy. Real.

Exactly the way you needed it to be.

You shifted closer without even thinking, until your knees brushed, until you could feel the heat rolling off him.

Rafe let you, his hands twitching like he wanted so badly to reach out but was waiting — waiting for you.

"You’re an idiot," you whispered, voice trembling.

He gave a soft, crooked smile — a little helpless, a little hopeful. "Yeah. But I’m your idiot, if you’ll have me."

You stared at him — at the ridiculous, reckless, beautiful boy who’d broken your heart and then spent every day since trying to piece it back together.

And you realized — you weren’t scared anymore.

You nodded once, voice barely there.

"I love you too."

The second the words left your mouth, something inside Rafe broke — his shoulders sagging like he’d been holding his breath for years and finally let it out.

He leaned in, slow enough that you could have stopped him. You didn’t.

You met him halfway, your mouth finding his in a kiss that was soft and deep and sure.

When you pulled apart, both of you breathing hard, he rested his forehead against yours, grinning like an idiot.

"So," he murmured, voice teasing now but thick with something heavier underneath. "Is this where I ask if you wanna be my girlfriend?"

You laughed, breathless, curling your fingers in the collar of his hoodie. "You planning on making it official with a handshake or something?"

He huffed a laugh, nudging your nose with his. "Nah," he said. "Gonna keep kissing you until you say yes."

You smiled against his mouth, your heart full to bursting.

"Yes," you whispered.

"Good," he said, kissing you again, softer this time. "Because I’m not letting you go again, Trouble."

A FEW DAYS LATER

Hand in hand, you and Rafe walked down the crowded sidewalk, coffee cups in hand, the afternoon sun warm on your backs.

You caught people staring — double takes, whispers.

You didn’t care. Neither did he.

Rafe squeezed your hand a little tighter, like he knew exactly what you were thinking, and leaned down to brush a kiss against your temple without breaking stride.

And for the first time in a long time, you weren’t running anymore.

You were exactly where you were supposed to be.

With him.

Home.

[sagesskies]

been reading a lot of qt bl recently, and this idea struck me:

imagine you've just transmigrated into a world where you're the second male lead's best friend, when him and the fl enter a rough patch in their relationship because seriously, that guy flirts with way too many girls despite being in a committed relationship, and this time the fl has had enough and breaks up with him.

the 2nd male lead just has a downward spiral, because he was super dependent on the fl, and you, doing your job as his best friend, give him words of encouragement, as you were instructed by the system. but when he, unexpectedly, asks you to do more than give him advice, and instead help him in the direct process of fixing their relationship, you can't exactly say no when he's asking you so pitifully with tears in his eyes.

so, you help him, concocting schemes to win the fl over, sabotage the 1st male lead, and the like. this is way more than the original best friend did, where he just said some encouraging words and then proceeded to dip out of the plot till the emotional climax where he gets hit by a car and the female lead and 2nd male lead supposedly "make up" and "date again" at least, till the 1st male lead wins her back over.

you're able to actually get closer to him as well, past the shallow mask that all humans don, and get to know him as more than just 'a playboy with unhealthy attachment issues'

you learn that he likes to play the guitar and sing, that he cries when watching romance movies, that his favorite color is purple, that he dreams of making a career out of his music, and that nobody ever believes he can.

but when you place your arm around his shoulder, and look deep into eyes and tell him that you do, you believe in him, you see the way that his eyes widen in surprise, and how tears start to well up in his eyes, but completely miss the way his cheeks start to redden.

you actually miss a lot of things. how he always remembers your coffee order, how he knows the way you like your eggs made, how he remembers your favorite show and movie, and knows your handwriting by how you write your m's.

you also miss how he wraps his arm around your waist, drapes his jacket over you when you get cold, and likes to loop his arms around your shoulders and cling to you like a koala does to a tree.

what you do notice is how he's stopped talking about the female lead as much, how he only asks you how you're doing, invites you out not to plan something but to instead just hang like friends would, and when you bring up how the female lead has started dating the 1st ml he just blinks, and then says "Okay, good for them," like he wasn't bemoaning how close they were only three months ago.

and what you are forced to see is that the only person he's feeling possessive over is you. he's always texting you, asking where you are, who you're with, and what you're doing. he's glaring at anybody who even breathes in your direction, and one time your friends told you he threatened them to leave you alone.

slowly, you start to distance yourself from him. you decline his offers to hang out, you avoid him on campus, and have even gone so far as to mute his notifications because he's been sending you so many messages.

the system is alerting you of his unnatural behavior, and you tell it that you're very aware, and trying your best to get the story back on track. but by god, is he making this so hard.

it all comes to a head when you hear pounding at your front door, the sound muffled by the heavy downpour of rain, and when you open it you're, sadly, not surprised to see that it's the 2nd male lead, clothes soaked and sobbing, he's telling you he misses you. that he doesn't know why you're avoiding him, but whatever he did he's sorry for it.

"Just don't ignore me, please [Name]," he whines, "If you do, I might die!"

how will you get yourself out of this mess now?

[lubilli]

𝗸𝗻𝘆 𝗵𝗰𝘀 ➠ "cutie!"

synopsis: the hashira men when you call them cute/a cutie

ft. rengoku, giyu, sanemi, obanai, muichiro, tengen

warnings: they're all softies here 💔

r. kyojuro

• he was training while you were watching

• "you're doing so well, kyojuro!"

• he was all blushy cuz u complimented him

• he's used to compliments but it just felt different when you did it

• maybe bc you never really compliment anyone

• and maybe bc he has a praise kink

• "awww, kyojuro, you're such a cutie!" you squealed when you saw the pink dusted all over his cheeks

• his brain almost short circuited

• not even joking

• he's been complimented on his looks before.

• he's been called handsome, good looking, but...cutie? that was a new one

• "kyojuro? are you okay?"

• "yes, y/n! i am completely fine!"

• he said that while his cheeks literally looked like tomatoes

t. giyu

• you just got back from a mission looking half dead

• when giyu saw you, his face literally looked like this -> 😨

• how tf did you even manage to hurt yourself this bad..

• he DEMANDS to patch up ur wounds

• that brings you to your current situation, sitting on giyu's bed while he tends to the wounds

• you winced when he got to a certain cut on your thigh, he glares at you

• "you wouldn't be in this situation if you weren't so reckless, y/n." he scolds you

• you just laugh, "you're cute, giyu."

• it takes him a while before he realizes what you said.

• "did you call me..cute?" he furrows his brows

• "yes..because you are cute."

• continues tending to your wound even though he's literally dying inside

s. sanemi

• he's so aggressive its so hard to find him in a vulnerable state

• ur literally the first hashira to see him all calm

• when he's not screaming and yelling, he's actually really cute

• he loves cooking for you

• he's doing that rn

• "is it good?" he asks

• "it's a little salty..."

• "why can't i ever get this recipe right?!"

• he's so frustrated

• he's tried to cook this one recipe 5 times now but there's always a little too much of a certain ingredient

• you chuckle at his reaction & ruffle his hair

• "you're really cute, y'know?"

• wtf did u just say

• did u just call him cute...

• "WHAT'D YOU JUST CALL ME?!"

• those manic eyes found their way back onto his face

�� he's yelling at you but you can see the pink dusted all over his cheeks

• you started calling him cute more often

• acts like he hates it but he literally loves it sm

i. obanai

• you started getting close to him recently

• you found out he actually really likes poetry

• you'll just be sitting under/on a tree and he'll be reading his lil poetry books while you're just dreaming

• you think its so cute when he shows you lil poems he really likes

• "this one reminds me of you" he points to a poem on a page

• you shift your attention from the clouds to his book

• it reads, "A faint clap of thunder,

Even if rain comes or not,

I will stay here,

Together with you."

• bro.

• you died

• why is he so cute sometimes

• scratch that, he's always cute bro

• you smiled so big, "you're really cute, obanai."

• you moved a strand of his long hair and tucked his behind his ears, seeing his beautiful heterochromatic eyes.

• he looked at you with so much love bro

• "cute?" he tilted his head

• "yes, so cute."

• he's a mess but he just nods and continues his reading

• although he literally can't focus bc ur now the only thing on his mind

t. muichiro

• you don't know how you even got close to him

• but he will NOT go cloud-watching without you now

• takes you to his favorite spot

• he just talks abt the clouds while you mess around with his hair

• sometimes braiding it, sometimes doing pigtails or ponytails

• "woah," he stares into the sky with awe

• "what happened?" you ask

• "that cloud looks like a turtle." he pointed

• you looked at it and it really did look like a turtle

• "oh and look, that one looks like a heart." he pointed somewhere else

• wtf hes so cute

• "so cute," you squish his cheeks

• he looks at you dumbfounded

• takes him 4-5 business days to process what you just said

• when he realizes his cheeks flushed pink

• he's literally never felt this before

• wtf type of witchcraft did u put on him

• you tilt your head, "what's wrong, muichiro?"

• "i don't know, but my cheeks and ears feel really warm."

• you laugh, "you really are cute, muichiro." you ruffle his hair.

u. tengen

• you and tengen are close friends

• his estate is like your second house

• started getting close to u bc ur flashy in his eyes

• then he got sent on a few missions with you and your bond grew even more

• anyways you were in tengen's estate rn

• "tengen," you frown

• "hm?"

• "my stomach hurts."

• he frowns, "should i get you a heating pad? do you want water? medicine? chocolate? massage?"

• you smile, "its fine. no need."

• "yes need. i'm not gonna let you endure your pain, y/n. that's very unflashy." he crosses his arms

• "you're such a cutie, tengen."

• he lifts a brow, "cutie? yes, i suppose being a cutie is very flashy." he nods. "now, tell me what you want—heating pad, chocolate, medicine, water, or massage?"

• "you're so stubborn." you shake your head, "but a chocolate sounds nice."

• "done deal. stay here and i'll get you some."

• he came back w some delicious ass chocolate

• "call me that more often. its very flashy."

• "call you what?"

• "cutie."

• you smile, "your wish is my command." you took a bite of the chocolate.

• he pat your head, "get well soon."

[zorosangell]

I’ll request for Cora then! I don’t really know what to request tho 🤔 but I love all your writing so I’m sure I’ll love whatever you write. how about just general headcanons? thank you! ❤️

⛥ﾟ・。corazon general and specific headcanons

synopsis: just some headcanons for the nine-foot tall blonde of my dreams

cw: none

a/n: this was so fun to write! thanks anon for the ask. i think i'm gonna open up my inbox for headcanons on other characters like kid or law or whatever

a/n 2: stay safe and rive carefully y'all. happy new year <3

general headcanons (you both are in a relationship)

— while i've seen others view cora as an overall shy, introverted person, i actually think the opposite, at least in some cases

— granted, he's not shouting from the mountain tops or actively going out of his way to talk to others, he is very extroverted with the people he knows and trusts

— like you, queen <3

— he likes to tell jokes and use his clumsiness to make you laugh, even if it isn't on purpose most of the time

— and when you do, he feels like he's on top of the world

— he's also very protective of you

— certain things in your relationship he likes to take a back seat on, but your safety is not one of them

— he's seen some things, and he'll be damned if something happens to you because of his negligence

— in a crowded room, he'll position himself behind you, acting as a guard dog as he keeps tabs on all possible threats

— in a bar, he'll keep a watchful eye on your drink and make sure an arm is around your waist at all times

— on the sidewalk, he will always, always make sure he's on the street side

— but that ties in with him being a perfect gentleman

— that being said... YOU NEVER HAVE TO PAY FOR ANYTHING

— actually gets offended if you try

— you're his lady; when you're with him, you don't lift a finger

— he may be on a marine's salary but when it comes to you he acts as if he has all the money in the world

— loves to splurge on you

"aw, baby, look! that necklace would look great on you, wouldn't it!"

"cora, honey, it's 90,000 berries... and you just got me a 70,000 berry bracelet last week"

"and?"

— honestly not very opinionated, doesn't really have many preferences when it comes to material things

— often has you order for him at restaurants, or pick out his clothes for the day

— hates arguing and fighting in general (though arguments are few and far between for you both anyway)

— if you don't like kids, that might be a bit of a deal breaker, seeing as law is a large part of his life

— not only that, but if you just are not a kind or decent person, this is not the man for you

— but trust, if you hit it off with law, you will have this man's heart forever (easier said than done tho)

specific headcanon (story-ish i guess)

— for the sake of whatever, let's say you're the nurse of doflamingo's crew (by circumstance, you're still a good person)

— when you first joined, cora was floored by your beauty; like actually, he fell flat on his face when doflamingo introduced you to the crew

— he was baffled that someone like you was a pirate, and even more so when you opened your mouth to reveal that you were incredibly kind and warm hearted

— (he would later learn that you had been blackmailed by his brother into joining the crew—the warlord promised no harm would come to your family if you joined him)

— initially, he was both enamored and suspicious, seeing as only those with cruel intentions joined his brother's crew

— but as time went by, he was quick to learn that it was quite the opposite, and quick to grow a certain fondness for you

— i imagine cora as a slow burner, so of course all of this happens over a decent amount of time

— but within that time you manage to weasel your way into his heart

— being the ship's nurse, you are always tasked with patching him up after his mishaps

— even though you do slip up and let out a chuckle or two, it never comes from a place of malice, unlike the others

— and even still, you scold and warn him about being careful around fires and hot liquids

— though, most of the time, it goes in one ear and out the other

— sometimes he's too preoccupied with your soft hands on him, or your pretty eyes locked with his

— sidebar: he blushes like a school girl because of his fair skin, i'm talking full on tomato

— anyway, it isn't long before you two become incredibly close

— communicating is a bit of a hassle given his silence, but he appreciates your constant effort

— he makes a point to keep you as far away from doflamingo as possible, often sending you on "errands" to avoid the two of you from interacting

— and when he can't do that, he floats around, not straying too far away as his brother pulls you aside for a chat or asks you to check a pain on his abdomen (barf)

— that doesn't just apply for his brother, btw

— he does that for everyone on the crew, executive or not

— no one gets you on your own without him knowing about it

— on the outside looking in it might sound stalker-ish, but in his mind he justified it as performing his duty as a marine

— all he was doing was protecting a helpless... sweet-smelling... adorably-laughing... angel-looking... young woman

— but in actuality, he was protecting his dream girl

— his dream girl who absolutely loves kids! (if you don't, then, once again, cora might not be the one for you)

— you always treat baby 5 and buffalo with such kindness, even when they act like little monsters; making sure they take their baths, making sure they eat, giving them their monthly check-ups

— it's one of the many things cora loves about your personality

— as well as nurse, you play the role of nanny to the kids onboard

— and your mothering only expands when law and dellinger join the crew

— fast forward to when cora is about to take law away, he comes to you first, severely surprising you by reciting a passionate dissertation as to why you should join him

— he couldn't imagine leaving you behind in the clutches of his brother; no protection, no one to shield you from the horrors of the family

— so it was only natural that his heart fell to his ass when you declined, but your reasoning was that doflamingo still had your family hostage

— though, on one particular night, when you had happened to walk past the door to his study, you overheard him talking to the other executives about how gullible you were, as he had killed your family years ago

— distraught, you ran away with cora and law that night

— and it was bbq chicken from there...

[yoongelectric]

Up and Down - Ben Shelton

pairing: ben shelton x fem!reader

genre: super fluffy, angst, smut, exes to lovers

warnings: pet names, unprotected sex, p in v, breeding kink, fingering, nipple play, riding, i think that’s it

summary: you get stuck in an elevator with the one that got away

notes: sorry for making you wait, i ended up changing a lot of things. English isn’t my first language

It has been more than a year since your breakup with Ben, your relationship had started innocently, when he came to your house to hang out with your brother, and you stole glances at each other when he was distracted, Ben secretly looked forward to those rare occasions when you spent time with them, when you watched movies together and if he was lucky maybe you would lay your head on his shoulder, or when the three of you had to go grocery shopping and you would seat in the passenger seat next to him, or when in the middle of a conversation he made you laugh. one day he decided that he wanted to be able to experience those things every day so he asked you out, one date turned into two and soon you were inseparable, your brother used to half joke about how you had stolen his best friend and threatened Ben saying that if he ever hurt you he would beat him up.

But all good things come to an end, they say, and after two years of dating, Ben's career began to get in the way, long training sessions and constant trips made it impossible for you two see each other. On top of that, you were no longer the main priority in Ben's mind, not showing up on dates or forgetting important days became more and more usual for him. So one day with pain in your heart you decided to end things, you knew that you both loved each other, and although it was probably one of the hardest things you had ever done you knew it was the best for both of you, you didn't want him to pay less attention to his career now that it was starting to take off, but you weren't going to sacrifice your happiness just to wait for him to have time for you.

You're doing fine, you're studying the career of your dreams, you have a good job, a quiet life and wonderful friends who help you not think about Ben, and maybe that's the reason why you’re doing fine, you don't think about ben, you don't see ben, the only news you have about him is when your brother proudly tells you how well he's doing in tennis, and it makes you happy, it's what you always wanted for him, to be successful in what he loves the most, but when you're alone with your thoughts you can't help but think about how things would be if you had fought more for your love, what it would be like to live your joys together, and support each other when things were not so good, but you convince yourself that you are better off this way, because you’ll never know if you would’ve been able to overcome that rough patch in your relationship.

and here you are, getting ready for your brother's birthday, he had told you earlier that Ben was going to be there and you had psychologically prepared yourself all afternoon for the moment you would see him for the first time since you broke up, you told everyone that it was fine, you’d ended up things on good terms and you didn't hold a grudge against him, you didn't feel anything for ben other than a nice memory, but secretly you were wearing just his favorite color, you had styled your hair the way you knew he liked it and you had looked at your outfit in the mirror hundreds of times hoping ben would find you attractive, there are things that never change at the end of the day.

The night was going smoothly, when Ben arrived you greeted him politely with a slight smile and continued having small talk with your aunt, obviously the questions didn't take long to come, what happened for you to broke up? Was there anyone else? How does it feel to see him here? You avoided them as best you could but they left you feeling an uncomfortable pang in your chest. The night went by and each drink made you overthink your decisions over and over again, so you decided to say goodbye to your closest circle and return home before doing something you would regret.

When they were about to close completely, the elevator doors opened up again, letting in ben’s tall figure, who looked at you surprised, with a pleased smile, you're not sure if that was the same expression he received from you.

"Hey, y/n, leaving already? We didn't have much chance to talk there" Ben tried to break the ice.

"Yeah, I have a bit of a headache so I preferred to go home" you lied, obviously you wouldn't tell him that you couldn't stand seeing him and not being together.

"oh i understand, maybe you need some sleep"

"yeah maybe..." you tried to say something else but you didn't really know what, you fell into an awkward silence, unusual for the two of you.

and as if life was playing a joke on you, you felt the elevator stop, you pressed the button for the ground floor several times but it was useless, you wouldn’t move.

"We can't be stuck here," you said, switching between pressing the stop and go button and the one for the floor you were going to.

"Relax, I'll call your brother so he’ll tell the maintenance guys."

The call gave you two the worst news, no one would go that late at night on a saturday to fix an elevator, so you would have to wait for the system to work again.

The two of you sat on the floor in silence, looking at the ceiling, at the floor anywhere but at each other, it was strange how something as familiar as being alone together now produced such discomfort inside you.

you heard ben laugh bitterly

"What's so funny?" You asked, playing with your necklace, an old habit you had when you were nervous.

"Nothing, I just never thought I'd need to be stuck in an elevator to be alone with you."

His remark making you feel even more uneasy.

"I don't think that's the case" you avoided his comment, looking away.

"y/n, I'm not stupid, I see that you're nervous, I know it bothers you being here with me" he paused to look at you for the first time in several minutes "I'm surprised that this is what we are like now"

"It doesn't bother me being here with you, Ben, it bothers me not knowing what to do."

"what do you mean?"

"You were literally my person for two years, we always connected on another level, and now we can't have a conversation for 5 minutes, I hate feeling like I don't know you"

"y/n, you are the one who’s been avoiding me all night, pretending you don't know me when you are the person who knows me best in the world" Ben approached you trying to hold your hand gently "I know it's my fault, I was the one who lost you, but things don't have to be like this"

"but they are, there’s nothing to do" you finally looked at him "some things belong to the past"

"I miss you, Y/n, I miss us, I know I didn't take care of you like I should have, but I don't think that our relationship is something of the past, I can fix things you know."

"There is nothing to fix, you have other priorities in life and that's okay, I'm not going to get in the way of your career"

"do you ever think about me?, tell me the truth, because I think about you all the time, every time I win a match and you’re the first person i wanna call, or when I watch some movie that you like and I remember the comments you would make, specially at night when the bed feels too big" Ben moved even closer to you "please tell me you still think about me, y/n”

"i do, but that doesn't matter-" your words were cut off by ben's lips on yours

He held you by the neck, kissing you as if he’d never had to stop doing it, the kiss felt intense, full of emotions that hadn’t surfaced for a whole year.

"It does matter, Y/N, before we didn't know how to handle things, but maybe now we can" Ben murmured against your lips.

"What if we can't? I don't want to feel like someone you only remember when you have nothing else to do again" A single tear fell down your cheek, which Ben was quick to wipe away with his thumb while holding your face.

"You were never that for me, y/n, it was a difficult time and i neglected you, i admit that, but I swear that will never happen again, i know how it feels like to loose you completely". ben smiled sadly

This time it was you who leaned in to kiss him, the desperation of finding something to hold onto to believe him invading your senses, Ben grabbed your waist trying to stick you to him but the position you were in, sitting side by side, made it impossible.

"Can you come here?" He patted his lap so you sat on top of him.

When you straddled him you felt his arms wrap you in a hug, clinging you to him as if even the slightest distance hurt him. He laid his head on your shoulder, inhaling the scent of your hair. You stayed like that for a while until he looked up again, his eyes full of love.

"god, you're so beautiful, i missed you"

“I missed you too, you have no idea” you pouted as you ran your hand through his brown curls, a habit that lingered over time.

You felt him reach out to kiss your neck, leaving wet kisses all over your sensitive spots, Ben's movement taking you aback momentarily but making you loose yourself in him right away, your hand in his hair caressing and gently pulling his locks as your back arched over his chest.

His hands came down to grab your hips, pressing you onto his growing erection, making you moan softly.

"Sorry, tell me to stop if you want" Ben whispered, kissing the skin the neckline of your top left visible.

"Please don't" you said looking down.

“good,” you heard ben grunt as he rolled your skirt up and grabbed your bare ass, urging you to buck your hips onto his, and again, and again, his hands guiding your movements hard onto it, his hard cock feeling so good against your clothed clit, but the friction quickly feeling too little. You gently bit his shoulder, pressing harder on him, but it was useless.

"ben, please, i need more"

Ben looked into your eyes, smiling devilishly, he raised your hips slightly to have easy access to your pussy, running a finger all over it, your hips pushed down onto his finger, your back arching, head falling back and your hands resting on his shoulders needing to grab something.

“ben, take them off” you said making him look up and kissing him again.

He pushed your panties to the side, without removing them yet, he poked a finger at your entrance trying to collect your wetness, hissing at the amount of your juices he found there.

"shit, I want to fuck you so bad"

Ben looked at you once more, lips red and swollen from his ministrations, your hair messy and a slight shine in your eyes.

"then do it, baby, I can't wait, Ben" this time you were the one who went down to kiss his neck, sucking hard, you were sure to leave marks but at this moment you didn't care, you felt Ben's hand twitch on your hip and a growl escape his mouth, it was amazing how after a year being apart you still knew all his weak points, maybe because you were one yourself

"Not yet, princess, we have to get you ready."

"Ok, but make it quick, what if the elevator starts working again?"

Ben laughed softly "we'll have to continue in my bed then."

You smiled at him but your face turned into one of pleasure when Ben began to draw figure eights on your pussy, keeping your hips still so he could please you just the way he wanted.

"Take off your top, baby" as soon as you left your breasts bare, Ben's mouth attacked them, skillfully licking your nipples, sucking and letting his teeth delicately graze that sensitive area.

Ben slid two fingers into your entrance, pumping them in and out reaching all the places inside you that made you see stars, his other hand releasing your hip as he licked his thumb to circle your clit.

You were making a mess on his fingers and you could hear the noise of your wetness getting pushed in and out of you.

"ben, it’s okay, fuck me, please, I need you, I need your cock"

ben nodded his head releasing his dick from its confinement, you suddenly remembered his size, once he was inside of you, you felt perfectly full, stretched, but it was true that it had taken you a few months during your relationship to get used to his length and girth.

"you ready, pretty?" You nodded and looked at him, legs spread, leaning back slightly, giving his member a few strokes before he grabbed you to help you sit on his cock he looked so attractive you couldn't think about anything else.

you let his dick in inch by inch, but halfway through you felt it was too much, the stretch hurting between your legs.

your face of discomfort didn’t go unnoticed by ben

"y/n are you okay? did I hurt you or something?" He spoke worriedly while holding your waist to help you support your own weight.

You nodded and rested your head on the crook of his neck before speaking, a little embarrassed

"I'm fine, it's just that, your dick is big and I haven't had..." you looked at him with reddened cheeks.

"since we broke up?" Ben asked trying to sound understanding, but the smile he had to contain was noticed by you.

"don't smile like that, I just need to adjust to the size, be a little patient with me"

"all the patience in the world, love, just tell me when you're ready" he gave a soft peck on your shoulder.

"can you take this off?" you asked as you grabbed the hem of his shirt.

Ben removed the garment in one motion allowing you to cling onto his skin, breathing through your nose and taking in the rest of him.

“you’re doing great, y/n, just tell me when you can move.”

The pain soon turned into pleasure and you soon began to feel that need for more friction in your lower stomach, you moved your hips up until only the tip was inside and you let yourself fall, Ben's deep growl making your walls tighten around his cock, you repeated your movements over and over again until your legs began to shake, his mouth changing between kissing your breasts, your neck or your lips, soon neither of you had the energy for anything but trying to reach your climaxes, holding each other and moaning into each other's mouths, you were so close but your legs had less and less strength.

"ben, can you?-"

A scream escaped your mouth when Ben placed his heels on the floor and, holding your hips, began to fuck you right in that delicious pace that he’d always known how to give you.

"Is this what you wanted, beautiful? you wanted me to fuck you good?"

"gosh, ben, so so so good, I missed this so much"

"I missed you, I love you so much"

Ben held you close, so lovingly, contrasting with the violent thrusts he was giving your pussy over and over again.

The knot in your stomach formed quickly and white spots appeared around your eyes.

"love, I'm close" your hips began to meet his movements, your clit rubbing against Ben's pelvis making your head spin.

“let go, cum for me, tell me, y/n, who makes you feel this good?”

The tension in your stomach snapped, your entire body shivered and all the nerves in your body woke up, you made a mess of juices on his dick.

"Shit, Ben you make me feel this good, there's no one like you."

You didn't know what you were saying, you were just thinking about the time you’d missed all of this, the time you lost each other.

When you came down from your high, Ben started his thrusts again, becoming more erratic and his moans less controlled.

"y/n I'm gonna cum, where do you want it?"

Your head was full of possibilities, but you felt so good like this, so comfortable, so safe, that you didn't want to move, you didn't want to lose contact.

"Finish inside, I don't want you to get out of me, Ben"

"damn, you're the best thing that ever happened to me"

Ben's hips stopped inside you, pressing hard as you felt his white seed paint your walls.

His head fell onto your shoulder with a grunt of pleasure and exhaustion, hugging you tightly, as if you were going to disappear if he didn’t hold you close. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed his head, enjoying the contact that you’d only now realized how much you missed.

“I love you, Ben, i’m sorry for leaving like that,” you whispered in his ear.

"I let you go, I should have never ever taken you for granted, y/n, please be mine again."

You grabbed his head to make him look at you and you left a tender kiss on his cheek.

"I think all this shows you that my answer is yes"

"Thank you, baby, I swear you won't regret it, I'll take care of you the way you deserve"

"I know I won't regret it, love."

tiredness began to take over you, so Ben gently took you away from him, telling you to get dressed, that he would wake you up when the elevator worked again.

and you don't know when that happened, but the next morning you woke up clinging to him in his bed, right where you should have always been.

[exhaslo]

English is not my first language, so I hope I can speak it correctly. I imagined a story where the shy!reader has hot dreams about Miguel, and for some "reason" (Lyla), Miguel finds out and decides to tease the reader until everything ends in an NSFW way. I hope I have given you the idea within the appropriate terms.

Hehehe, no worries my friend. I know just what to write.

Warning: MINORS DNI, SMUT, teasing, slow sex, masturbation, fingering, wet dreams, overstimulation

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

This obsession you were having with one of your co-workers was getting out of hand. You knew it was a long shot that you could ever have a chance with the one and only, Miguel O'hara, but you couldn't stop dreaming about him.

Miguel O'hara was the smartest man in Alchemax. He was in charge of nearly everything that had to do with genetics. Every woman wanted to be his, hell, even men wanted a piece of that hot ass.

You? You were part of ordering team. It was a blessing and a curse, mainly because you got to talk with Miguel a lot more than others. You had to get with him to see what materials he needed. You loved it, but also hated it.

Why?

Because each time you talked to Miguel helped you dream of him fucking you raw. His hands pinning your head down against your pillow as he plows you from behind. The thought of his dick filling you again and again made your pussy throb.

His husky voice whispering in your ear, asking you who you belonged too. His balls emptying out inside your womb, coating your walls white.

Drool nearly rolled down your lips as your fingers rested gently against your throbbing bud. Oh, how Miguel O'Hara made your mind wander to the dirtiest parts. It was difficult because you knew something as glorious as that could never happen.

When you got home, you had nothing better to do than record your thoughts. Unlike the past where people wrote in a diary, the year 2099 made things easier. You summoned your AI and set it to recording mode, ready to talk about your wildest fantasies.

"Ah, and when Miguel's hand grazed mind when he handed me the list...mhm...I couldn't help but think how those fingers would feel inside me. Why does he have to be so hot? I can't mutter a word to him about anything other than work!"

You whined and cried as you let your frustrations out in your virtual diary. It wasn't fair. You wanted Miguel to notice you as a woman. You wanted him to ask you out. To make you his.

But who knows whenever that will happen.

---------

Miguel was stuck in his lab, working on some late projects before calling it a night. As he worked, he recalled you. Smiling at how shy you were, Miguel leaned back in his seat. Out of all the girls who fawned over him, Miguel enjoyed you the most.

The way your cheeks turned bright red whenever he spoke was adorable. How you doze off and let your mind wander only made Miguel curious. What could you be thinking of when he was standing before you?

"Lyla, could you find a way to contact (Y/N)? I want to add something to the list." Miguel demanded.

"Hmm," Lyla appeared and started to work, "Oh, looks like she is in recording mode with her AI. Let me patch us in-"

"Ly'a, don't! That's her-"

"Hah, ah~ M-Miguel..."

Miguel froze as Lyla hacked into your recording AI. His eyes widen and cock harden as you laid on your bed, fingered working furiously against your clit. Your body arching as you whimpered moans and cries of his name.

"Ah~ R-Right there....mhm~ h-harder M-Miguel...f-fill me up~!" You cried out before reaching your orgasm.

Miguel shuddered in awe as he watched your pussy spasm and clench to air. Your breathing heavy as you laid down to rest. You took a moment to sit up, whining softly before complaining that you needed to stop thinking about Miguel since he could never be yours.

Oh how wrong you were.

Miguel had Lyla turn everything off. He logged out and hurried out of Alchemax. How could he work when there was a beauty such as yourself desperate for his dick? Miguel had been wanting to make you his since the moment you spoke to him.

Hopefully you were ready for him.

----------

You laid on your bed, sniffing your thoughts away. Your recording ended much differently than you would like. Luckily it was your own personal diary, but you still should probably delete it in case something ever happens.

Upon hearing a knock at your door, you scurried to grab a robe. Who could it be at this late hour? Poking through your door peep hole, you gasped as Miguel stood in front of your door. Hurrying to open, you nearly forget about your exposed self,

"M-Miguel?! W-What....What are you doing here?" You asked with a squeak.

"Sorry-" Miguel glanced down at you, "I, um...came here without thinking."

"Oh...Well..." You could feel your heart racing a mile a minute, "W-Why don't you come in...let me get you some water."

---------

How could you be so carefree? There you were, in nothing but a robe, after just fucking yourself to him. If Miguel didn't have his spider powers this might have been a different scene playing out. Oh, the temptation to pin you against the counter and fuck you stupid.

"Actually...I need to confess something to you."

Miguel needed to control himself. Perhaps he could tease you a bit about what he saw. Perhaps he could make this a bit more natural and playful.

"Lyla-My AI, may have accidently showed me something that is confidential for you." Miguel said as he cleared his throat. The blood had drained from your face,

"L-Like?!"

"Like," Miguel smiled as he hovered over your trembling body, "You crying out so sweetly."

"Ah!" You covered your face as it turned bright red. Miguel leaned down, chuckling lowly,

"Who would have thought those hands of yours could move so fast?"

"M-Miguel-"

"I couldn't help but feel awful for putting you in such a....position," Miguel nibbled against your ear, hearing you whine, "Such a quiet girl making those noises...how naughty."

-------

You could feel your head spinning as Miguel pressed his body against yours. The warmth of his body engulfing yours as his voice whispered against your ear. Everything about this scene was making you wet.

"How long have you been thinking about me?" Miguel chuckled as his hands circled around your waist,

"Mhm~ A long time," You admitted, feeling flustered by his teasing.

"Oh? Do you touch yourself like that every night?"

Your robe was starting to come undone as your body went on full display for Miguel. His head against your head, causing you to press your chest against his.

"Y-Yes," You stuttered.

"How naughty."

Miguel chuckled once more as he kissed your neck. Your robe had fallen on the floor and Miguel's hands were firmly on your waist. His leg pushed forward, causing your pussy to sit against it. You whimpered a whine as he kept pushing his leg against your wet cunt.

"What an honest body," Miguel hummed as his hands grouped your breasts, "And here I was about to ask if you want me to stop."

"No." You begged before tugging against his sleeve, "Please...Please fuck me."

-------

This was heaven on earth. Never had you thought this moment was ever going to happen.

However, you expected it a lot faster and rougher than this.

"A-Ah~ M-Miguel~~" You cried out.

Miguel was hovered over your naked body like a god. Your legs were thrown over his shoulder and his cock was deep inside you. Miguel's body was even more perfect than you ever dreamed of. His dick was far bigger than your wildest dreams.

"Hm? Don't like it slow?" Miguel chuckled lowly as he slowly pulled out with a grunt, "Your pussy is sucking me in so much. Thought I give it a nice treat."

"Hah~ s-so deep..." You whimpered as he pushed himself back in.

Miguel's slow movements was making your body heated. The tight knot in your stomach was far different from what you've ever done to yourself. His dick was kissing every part of your pussy you didn't even know existed.

"Awe, about to cum?" Miguel asked as you shivered from his slow thrust.

You wanted him to ravish you. You wanted him to make you see stars, not make you go crazy. Gasping as Miguel rubbed your clit, you cried as you gushed all over his cock. Your walls sucking him in more, begging for him to fill you.

Miguel could only chuckle as he kissed your body. His hands roaming everywhere as you calmed down from your high. Miguel pressed his hips closer, hitting you deeper than what he was prior. You flung your head back, moaning in pleasure.

"Is this everything you've ever dreamed of?" Miguel asked with a soft pant.

"Mhm~"

You were squirming slightly as Miguel continued his slow, yet deep thrusts inside you. Your vision was slightly blurry as your body started to shiver, but you could have sworn that Miguel was groaning. He wanted to go faster too.

"M-Miguel...y-you can...mhm~ go r-rough~" You cooed. Miguel licked your neck, biting against it softly,

"You better not regret it then."

Before you could say a word, you gasped and moaned loudly as Miguel's pace became rough. His dick slamming into your gummy walls, making loud lewd sounds filled the room. Your juices soaking the bed sheets under you as he kept hitting that sweet spot you've gone nuts over.

Your moans became loud and pornographic as Miguel gave you no time to rest. You had cummed again, coating his cock white as he continued to ram into you. You body shaking and jolting with each thrust as your sensitivity grew.

"How lewd," Miguel groaned against your ear as his hips slapped into yours, "Don't know bout you, but I wouldn't mind getting used to this."

"Ah~ Mhm~ Y-Yes!" You cried out.

Miguel chuckled as you started to arch your back. Your expression getting more expressive as you started to get fucked out. Biting his lower lip, Miguel grunted as he bottomed out inside of you. His eyes sparkled as your mouth made a cute 'o' form.

"Now, how could I stop with just one?"

You gasped, gripping onto the bedsheets as Miguel flipped you over. Your head pressed against the pillow as he went balls deep inside you. Your body shaking in rhythm to his rough thrusts as you enjoyed the feeling of his cum pouring inside you.

"Ah~ Mig~"

You were in heaven. All you could focus on was how good your pussy felt with each thrust. How good Miguel was at hitting each sweet spot you had. You shook in pleasure as you felt Miguel cum inside you again, groaning to your moans.

"(Y/N), next time you think of me....call me so I can show you how to feel good."

"Yesh~" You cooed.

-------

Miguel chuckled as you fell asleep after his last load. Honestly, he could keep going with his stamina, but you weren't ready for that yet. Carefully picking you up, Miguel made sure to wash you up and change your bedsheets before tucking you in.

He may have went a little overboard. But you didn't mind. Smiling as he covered you in the blanket, Miguel kissed your head before heading out.

"See you tomorrow, (Y/N)."

Of course, Miguel took your panties home as a souvinier.

You weren't the only one who had wet dreams.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hope you enjoyed!

[whatifitis]

♡ pit in my gut, in the shape of you - CL 16

♡

Summary: After a disastrous breakup, you manage to pick yourself up again and reach goals you always thought were out of reach. But what do you do when you run into your ex who does everything in his power to tear you down? Could you ever love again? And do you see your friend the way he sees you?

Author's Note: Omg another one of my old fics 😍 This one is very reworked though. Also, this fic is very much focused on y/n HOWEVER if it is wanted, part 2 has a lot more Charles with a lovely connection :D

WC: 5999

CW: angst, breakup, mentions of depression and its symptoms, Calum Hood portrayed in a bad light (IM A 5SOS FAN PLS DONT HATE ME), a stupid man being mean as fuck, fluff if you squint

You two were best friends. Everyday, you were stuck to each other's side. Whether you were out on adventures, or just at home watching the worst rom-coms ever made. You never got sick of eachother. Forever stuck to each other by glue. 

You always feared that those who loved you would eventually grow to hate you and get annoyed by you. That even the little things you did would result in them leaving, because they have before. But he never left. He stayed by your side for 3 summers. 

But then something changed. He stopped asking you about things; your interests, your days, your work. He stopped kissing you goodnight. He stopped bringing you lilies, your favorite flower. And one day, he just seemed to stop loving you. He left without a word. All he left in your two bedroom apartment was a note saying “I can’t do this anymore”. 

You had noticed the change in his behavior, but you thought, hoped, it was just a rough patch that most couples go through. You thought everything would go back to normal. You thought that if you tried enough, he would stay. You stopped going on tangents about anything and everything. You took on less hours at work to try and cook for him everyday and be present. You tried to make plans with him. But he still wouldn’t give you the time of day. You began to wonder what you did wrong. Where did it go wrong?. Did youtalk too much? Did he start to think your obsession with things was weird or childish? Or did he simply just fall out of love with you? What could you do to change and bring him back? 

The day he left was the day your whole world fell apart. You quit your job, stopped taking care of yourself, and stopped seeing your friends and family. Those around you grew worried, but there was nothing they could do. They couldn’t get you to eat, bathe, or even open the door to your shared apartment. 

2 years have passed and you have managed to move on. Now you have a new amazing job that you love and some new friends that you care for and know that they care for you as well. You moved out of the two bedroom apartment you once shared with your past lover, and moved into a one bedroom apartment that you absolutely adore. You decorated it to be somewhat like your dream apartment. You’ve got bookshelves lining a whole wall, the bookshelves filled with all of your favorite books and some memorabilia you’ve gathered from traveling and from sharing memories with friends and family. The rest of your walls are filled with posters and pictures of things from your interests to friends and family. 

After all this time, you still fear that if you put yourself out there, that people will start leaving you again. You truly don't think you can go through the heart break again. You’ve closed yourself off in some ways. You stopped sharing your interests with people. When asked about your day, you keep it to a minimum. If you saw a rat on the subway on your way to work, you would say so. But you would refrain from talking about how it was the size of your arm and that it was carrying 2 slices of pizza on its back. Something else that you had started doing that you hadn’t noticed was that you started dressing in more bland colors. No more rainbows, sparkles, odd patterns, but more basics in black, white and beige. All the colors and patterns can come off too strongly to some people, better to keep the brightness to a minimum. But you’re happier now. Happier than you were 2 years ago at least.

You now work at the biggest music production company in the country, hoping that one day, you will be able to touch people's hearts with your music and inspire others to follow their dreams, just like you had. One day, as you were on the way to a coffee shop during your break, you saw him. You saw his brown curly hair and his favorite jacket, the one you used to wrap yourself in on cold nights spent with him, walking along the riverside and just talking. He was waiting in line to order his favorite, an iced latte and a slice of banana bread. 

As you stood and stared in the doorway, you saw someone walk up to him and wrap an arm around his waist. She’s blonde and absolutely gorgeous. Probably the most beautiful woman that you’ve ever seen. Whilst you examine the woman, you notice something on the woman's finger. A ring. An engagement ring. Simple, but elegant. 

You debated whether you should leave or stay and pretend you didn’t see anything, as if the scene before you isn’t killing you on the inside. Before you could make your decision, he turned and spotted you. He stared at you from across the room, almost as if he was trying to place where he knew you from. The woman whispers something into his ear and he looks down at his fiance and laughs. 

You stood there, motionless, wondering did he forget me? Is it that easy to forget me? What we had? Or did he just not want to acknowledge me? How could he move on so easily? So quickly?

It was now your turn to order, so you stepped up to the cashier and ordered your usual,  an iced coffee and a cheese danish for yourself, as well as an americano and blueberry muffin for a friend of yours. Once you’d paid, you stepped to the side and waited for them to call your name, indicating that your order was ready. As you waited, you tried your best to not acknowledge him. You didn’t look in his direction and didn’t stand near them. But he kept taking small glances at you. You didn’t understand why he was doing this. Was it to see if you were jealous? If you were still heartbroken? Maybe he was trying to get a rise out of you. 

After some time, your name was called by one of the barista’s so you made your way to the counter and picked up your order, walking out the door as fast as you could. As soon as you stepped out the door, it felt like you could finally take the breath that you didn’t realize you were holding. Taking the first steps back to work, you looked back at him, but he wasn’t looking. Instead, he was pulling the woman, his fiance, close and kissing her, as if he knew you were watching, wanting to make you feel some way. 

As soon as you got back to work, you dropped off the muffin and coffee at your friend's desk. As you were making your way back to your desk, one of your company's clients and a close friend of yours, the one she had bought a muffin for, walked up to you and told you that her boss wished to speak to her. Charles gave her a shy smile as he walked away. You raced to your boss’ office where you were told that you had to write a song for one of your favorite artists. You were told to write a ballad about heartbreak, a song that would make people's hearts sink when they listen to the song. You told her boss that it was no problem, not wanting to be a disappointment. 

Immediately, you got to writing. You sat in one of the small studios in the building and began writing. You wrote down various lyrics as you played various chords on the piano. You worked for hours on end until the sun began to rise again. You hadn’t eaten or slept, but you believed you had written one of her favorite songs yet. It was something you held close to your heart and you prayed it was good enough. 

Once you had finished writing the song, you noticed it was 5 am. You decided to race home quickly to refresh and then come back to the studio to show your boss the song you had just written, to get their input. To say you were nervous was an understatement. As much as you loved your job, you hated having to share your work, for fear it would not be well received. You were afraid that the songs you worked on wouldn't be enough. But you pushed through your doubts, because at the end of the day, if you don't believe in yourself, then no one will. 

You played the song for your boss, and they loved it. They told you to immediately record a demo of it and send it to the client. With that, you got to work. Stepping into one of the studios, you found Charles, the blueberry muffin lover. You immediately raced to him with excitement, telling him about how your boss had loved the song you had written and wanted you to record a demo for it and send it to the client, who just so happened to be your favorite artist.

“That’s amazing, ma cherie! I’m not surprised honestly, you’re an amazing songwriter and musician. It was only a matter of time before your talent was recognized.” he smiled softly at you. 

With the help of a producer, you recorded the demo and had it sent to the client, who absolutely loved it and wanted it to be the first single off their new album. You were ecstatic because not only did you love it, but so did your boss and your favorite artist. Soon after, the client came to the recording studio in the building and started recording the song with your help  and a few producers' help. 

Once you had finished recording the song, the client stood there in silence. You felt like you were melting in that studio, full of people you respect and admire. What if it turned out that the client didn’t like the song anymore? That they didn’t want it anymore? What if they wanted someone else to write a song for them? What if you really weren’t good enough? 

Finally, the client spoke, looking right at you “You know,  I don’t think I’m doing this song justice. I think you should record it, properly, and release it under your name. You’ve got an amazing voice and incredible song writing skills. I don’t think it’s fair of me to take this song from you.” 

You thought you were being messed with but after a few moments, realized that the client was being serious. It took a bit of convincing, but you agreed to release this song under your own name, totally not due to peer pressure. Of course you were shitting bricks at the thought of putting yourself out there as a singer, but it was something you were excited for? For the first time in a long time, you felt like you were on the right path. 

Leading up to the release of your first single, there were countless meetings and dinners with important people. People who had power and influence in the music industry. People that she had only dreamed of working with, never thinking it could be real. So many contracts that had to be signed. You began to doubt whether it was something you were worthy of. All these people were taking a big risk in working with you. What if you turned out to be a waste of time, money, and effort. 

One specific day, while you worked with lawyers and managers on getting your new career started, you stepped out of your office building to take a breather and gather your thoughts. But, as you did, you saw him, Calum Hood. The man who broke with silence all those years ago. He’s standing there with his big brown eyes looking directly at you. The two of you stood there staring at each other, 8 feet apart, not saying a word. 

After what seemed like hours, he walked to you, not breaking eye contact. Your heart started racing, wondering why he’s here, why is he walking towards you. As soon as you were in arm's reach of each other, he handed you an envelope. You reluctantly took it from his hand and saw your name written on the front, in beautiful cursive. 

“It’s an invitation… to my wedding. It’s in a few months and I want you there. I know I kinda left abruptly and you’re probably pissed at me, but I hope between now and the wedding, we can reconnect and be happy for eachother. I mean I’m engaged now and you’re obviously seeing someone.”

You were taken back by this comment, why does he think I’m seeing someone? 

He sees the confusion on your face “At the coffee shop, you ordered two drinks and two pastries. I assumed that you were getting it for your partner.” 

When he said this, you thought shit but you also thought, since he’s moved on, you should pretend that you have too. 

You looked back up at him and said “Yeah, I’m seeing someone. I met him here at work a couple years ago.” 

“Great, I’m glad we could both move on and be happy for eachother. I was wondering if you wanted to grab a bite to eat or a coffee sometime. We can catch up and reconnect?” 

You agreed. You were curious as to why he left that day. It has been in the back of your mind for the past 2 years. Why not take this chance to find out? Setting a time and date to meet, you said your goodbyes to each other. 

For the next week, you worked and worked, trying to get your new life in order. PLacing everything where you wanted it to be or where it needed to be. All of this was so new to you and now your ex has been thrown back into the mix. You were actively trying not to drown, clawing at the waves to survive. 

You made your way to the coffee shop you and Calum had agreed to meet at. As soon as You walked in, you saw him sitting at a table in the corner. He smiled and waved you over. You walked over and sat down, noticing that he had already ordered for the both of you. In front of you, on the table, sat your favorite drink, but it was hot. You hated hot drinks. Even when it was freezing outside, you always ordered cold drinks. A pastry sat next to the drink, it was a pastry that you’d never tried. 

“I remember these were your favorites. I’m not sure if they still are but hopefully you still like them.” 

“Yeah, thanks” you said, plastering on a smile. You hated that you still loved him, after all this time. Even after he got your coffee order wrong and claimed it was your favorite. 

The two fo you sat there in silence wondering where to start. 

“So uh, how have you been since… you know” Calum says, giving you a toothy smile. 

“Since you left me out of the blue? Yeah I’m doing pretty good” you said with a laugh, almost masking the pain that still pierces your being. 

He lets out a chuckle

“I’ve got a new job, new apartment, new partner. I guess you could say I’m doing great. How about you?” you asked the man before you. 

“Yeah, I’ve been good. I got a big promotion, new house, and I’m getting married to an amazing woman.” 

When he said this, you felt your heart sink into your stomach. 

“Tell me about her.” you said

“Well, she is a nurse. During her free time, she volunteers at an animal shelter. She’s constantly bringing home stray animals as well, hoping she can find them new homes. One of the things I love about her. She uh, she also loves painting. She’s constantly painting something new. We have about 20 of her paintings around the house.” he says with a smile on his face. “She’s literally the perfect woman. I love everything about her. But enough about me. Tell me about your guy. What’s he like?” 

You panicked when he said this. You don’t have a guy. So you thought of someone you could describe, Charles. 

As you begin speaking, you unconsciously smile “Um, well, he’s a driver, like he drives in Formula 1. We met at work when he was looking for a company that could help him bring his compositions to life. We sort of hit it off from there. He plays the piano like it's no one's business. He can also play the guitar and he’s an amazing musician overall. He’s like a chess genius and one day he ran into the studio and told me about a great idea he had. He wanted to use the sounds of chess pieces hitting the board in a song. I mean it’s not a crazy idea. Billie Eilish used an Australian crosswalk sound for a song. Why can’t we use chess piece sounds?” You laugh when you say this, thinking about how absurd it is that Charles comes up with these ideas just out of the blue. 

You continued “He loves getting up early in the morning and going to watch the sunrise. And he loves cooking. He makes the best pesto dishes. Any dish with pesto, he can make into something you can only dream of eating. You should come over one day and try it.” 

“I’d love to. We should all get together one day and have dinner. My fiance and I and you and your mate.” 

“Yeah, just let me know when you two are free. Charles and I are usually only busy during the day.”

“I’ll check with my fiance but yeah, I’ll let you know. What else have you been up to? Any gossip going around that you can share? I’m sure there’s a ton with the amount of celebrities you work with.”

You hate that he’s asking this. You used to tell him everyday that you did not feel comfortable sharing anything you ever heard at work, as it was not any of your business and you wouldn’t want your business being aired out either. 

“Not so much gossip that I can share but, I am currently in the process of releasing a song.” “Really?” he asks in a doubtful tone. “That’s… amazing! I know how much you wanted to be a big song writer, and now you’re gonna be a big star.”

“I’m not so sure about being a big star.”

“Oh no, believe me, you are gonna go on to play in stadiums and sell out tours, and win awards. Trust me, I know you, and I know how talented and hard working you are. You’re gonna be the biggest star anyones ever seen." His tone makes him seem like he’s being sarcastic. 

You feel your cheeks turn red, not from flattery, but from anger? Embarrassment? He never once said he believed in you when the two of you were together. Never once stated that you were talented. Always changing conversation topics when you would bring up your work. 

“Thank you. I’m really excited for this next step in my life.”

“Yeah, no problem. I’m glad we saw each other that day, and that we can talk now. And again, I’m sorry for leaving abruptly all those years ago. I’m not sure what exactly happened but, I’m sorry. I really am” he says. But, you’re finding it hard to believe him. You don’t think he’s actually sorry for his actions. 

“It’s okay. Things happen. People change and there’s nothing we can do about it. Listen, it’s getting late and I should get going, but let me know when we can all sit down and have dinner.” 

“Yeah of course, take care.”

The two of you  stand up and hug before leaving. As soon as you touch, you remembered what it felt like to be with him. Unconsciously, you sank into his arms immediately, not wanting to let go. For a second, you hoped that time would freeze. That you could be his for even another minute. Maybe there’s a chance he could love you again, like you weren’t hopeless. Maybe you could be enough this time. But eventually, you did part. You two walked out of the shop together and then went different directions. 

As soon as you got home, she panicked thinking I gotta talk to “my guy”. You pick up your phone and text Charles, asking him to meet you in front of her apartment building in an hour. He fortunately agrees without questioning it. 

An hour later, you meet Charles at the front of your apartment building. “Hey, What’s up? Are you okay? Why’d you need to meet so soon?” he says while walking up to you, worry sketched into his face. 

“Well you see, I may or may not have bumped into my ex who is now engaged and then talked to him and now he thinks that I’m also seeing someone when I’m not because I need him to think that I have moved on because he moved on and he invited me to his wedding and he needs to think I’ve moved on and that I’m happy.” “I-. Seems like you’ve gotten yourself in quite the predicament.” he lets out a small laugh. “But why do you need me, specifically?”

“I need you to pretend that we’ve been dating for like a year and maybe, possibly, pretty please, be my date to their wedding.” “Oh.” he laughs “I mean, sure. I’m down to help you out. Let me know what our story is so that I can get into character” he jokes. 

“Really? Are you sure? You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I know this is a weird request and stuff.” you explain, beginning to regret your decisions and panicking a bit. 

“Yeah. I’m totally down. It actually sounds kind of fun, almost like I’m crashing a wedding but I'm not. I also sort of owe you for all the help at work. I wouldn’t have been able to get some of those projects done so quickly without you.” 

“Oh, yeah that was no problem. But are you really sure you’re okay with helping me with this?”

“Most definitely. Text me the details when you can. We can begin scheming.” he tells you as he begins to walk away.

Before he disappears from view, you shout back a reply “Alright. Thanks Charles, I really appreciate it.” 

As he turned around, you swore you saw his eyes twinkle. 

Once he’d turned a corner, you went back up to your apartment and took a breath and wondered what the hell did I get myself into. 

A month has passed and it’s time for all four of you to have dinner together. You all met at your apartment. Since you've been working every hour of every day, your “partner” arrived at your apartment ahead of time so that he could prepare dinner for everyone. 

Calum and his fiance, Kayla, arrive and you all gather around the table and begin to eat. You all make small talk with each other, starting with whatever is on the news. As time went on, you all began to feel comfortable enough around each other to talk about what’s happening in your lives and how everyone knows each other. As far as Kayla knows, you and Calum were friends a few years back til work got in the way and you just lost touch.

Throughout the whole dinner, Calum tries to steal glances at you, but you don't give in. He tries grazing your leg with his foot but you ignore it. You don't understand why he’s doing this. He’s happily engaged with a new job and new house. 

Charles soon notices how uncomfortable you are and tries his best to subtly comfort and reassure you. Charles pulls your chair a little closer to himself, not realizing that he’s just saved you from having that man touch your leg again. He asks you if you’re okay and you tell him that you’re fine, giving him a smile that he can see right through. 

You all talk and laugh all night until it’s time for Calum and Kayla to go home. The couple say their goodbyes and leave, thanking you and Charles for hosting and cooking. 

Charles stays back and helps you clean for a bit, even after you’d reassured him that you could do it yourself. 

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks you. 

“Yeah, I just- It was just weird, the whole dinner thing.” you try to brush him off. But he doesn’t let up. 

“Don’t lie to me. I could see how visibly uncomfortable you were. Was he doing something to make you uncomfortable?”

“No, he didn’t do anything. Please just drop it. It’s been a long night.” you say, feeling exhausted. 

“Fine. But this conversation isn’t over yet.” he says as he begins to walk out. 

“Thanks.” you call out to him before he can walk out the door. “For helping me and for cooking dinner tonight. I really appreciate it. The pesto was really good. And thanks for checking up on me, you didn’t need to.” you try to put on a smile for him. But he can’t help but see right through it, and knows right now isn’t the time to push you to talk yet. 

He simply nods and tells you “It was no problem. I’m always here if you need anything.” He smiles at you as he walks out the door. 

A few hours later, you're in your apartment, getting ready for bed when all of a sudden, there’s a knock at your door. You walked to the door to see who could possibly be knocking at your door so late at night. You look through the peephole of the door to see Calum. You weren't sure what to do. Not only did you feel exhausted, but you also wanted to know what was going through his head, why was he here? 

Opening the door, you tell him to come in and ask him why he’s back here at your apartment, especially so late at night. 

He looks at you and just says “I love you. I never stopped loving you. I’ve loved you since the first night I met you. I never stopped loving you.” You’re confused and angry. He left you, out of the blue, and immediately got into another relationship. He made you feel small and foolish. He made you feel unlovable. Unworthy. He made you question your worth for so long. You had to fight claws and chains to come back from the depths of darkness that he threw you in. 

You look him in the eyes and ask “Then why did you leave?”

He holds your stare and says “Because I was an idiot. I didn’t know what I wanted.”

“You didn’t know what you wanted? Really? That’s your answer?”

“Well it’s not like it’s entirely my fault that our relationship ended the way it did. I mean, you had as much of a role in our demise as I did.”

“Excuse me?” You can’t believe him and his audacity “Tell me, what the fuck did I do that made our relationship end? Please, tell me. Go on then.”

“Well I mean, for starters, you were always talking about yourself. You know what, no, you just were always talking. Nonstop. It’s like you couldn’t stand the fucking silence or letting someone else talk. Like who cares if you saw a rat on the subway. It’s New York City for fucks sake. That shit happens everyday.”

“What else?” you asked, trying to keep the tears from falling. 

“You are always so full of yourself. You really think you’re talented? You really think you can amount to something? You write songs. Woo fucking hoo, congratulations. Millions of people can do that, it doesn’t make you special. Just because you got given this new career, doesn’t mean shit. Talentless people make and release music all the time. It doesn’t mean shit. When are you gonna realize that you don’t matter. That people aren’t going to love you like I do.”

“Stop spewing that shit at me. You have no right to say that.”

“No, I have every right considering I wasted so many years on you.”

Eventually, you lost it. Tears were streaming down your face and you stopped holding back.

“I was a fool for loving you and thinking you loved me too. I did everything for you. Everything I did was all for you. But it didn’t mean shit to you. You kept me waiting for your love for years. And I acted like it was fine, like I was fine. I thought maybe someday you’d come around and that it would be something we laughed about when we were older. But I finally learned my lesson. I was naive and foolish to think you could ever love anyone but yourself.”

“Stop with the theatrics for god's sake. All you needed to do when we were together was give me space and be chill and hold your fucking tongue. I’m trying to give you a chance with me again. Just take me back and we can pretend this never happened. You can have a purpose in life again.”

You stare at him not knowing what to say or do, feeling trapped. You can’t believe this man, coming into your home and saying that shit. You can’t believe that at one point in time, you loved him. 

“Go.” you tell him. 

“What the fuck are you saying.”

“Go, get out. Get out of my fucking apartment, I never want to see you again.” You yelled as you pointed towards the door. He looked at you in disbelief “I walk out that door, then this is over for good.” He gestured between you two, “You won’t get another chance.”

“Leave. I don’t need you or your stupid ego.”

“Fine, just remember that you did this to yourself. Have fun spending the rest of your life alone and unsuccessful. No one in hell will be stupid enough to love you, at least not like I did.” 

He walked out of the apartment as you slammed the door shut. 

You had a lot of regrets in your life. But your biggest regret was him. You regretted putting him on such a pedestal. For treating him like he was the sun. For years, you watched him as he tolerated you. You were such a fool for him. You waited patiently, but you were never enough for him. You don’t think anyone will ever be enough for him. 

The whole time he spoke and bashed you, you thought that maybe he’ll never be satisfied. He could have the perfect life with a perfect house and perfect wife and perfect family. But at the end of the day, he will always want more. 

After years of doubting yourself, putting yourself down and believing every word he ever said to you about you, you’re finally at a place where you can confidently say that someday, you will be everything to somebody else. This person will think you’re so exciting. This person will never cease to amaze you. This person will always love hearing you talk, hearing you laugh, wanting to bottle up the sound so that he can listen to it whenever he wants. 

Your first single made it to the top 10 on the charts. YOur schedule was booked full with interviews from various magazines and entertainment channels. Everyone kept asking you “When’s the album coming out?” “Who's the song about?” “Is there a potential love interest in your life right now?” “This man claims the song was written about him, is it true?”. Millions of questions, some that you refused to answer. 

Your first few months of fame were chaotic to say the least. The only time you felt at peace and like you could be yourself was when you were in the studio where you first wrote the song. Oftentimes, you would sit in that studio and just sit in silence, savoring the calm. As you were about to close your eyes and take a little nap, you heard a knock on the door. You call out to the person behind the door stating that they could come in. The door opened and you saw that it was your “partner”. You smiled as Charles walked in, taking a seat next to you. 

“So, how’s fame treating you?”

“It’s pretty tiring if I’m honest.” you laughed.

“It looks tiring.” he laughs with you, “Why are you here alone? Shouldn’t you be mingling with the big names right now? You know, out partying and stuff.”

“Not my kind of thing. How are things with you? What have you been up to?”

“Just the same old stuff. The only difference is that my projects are getting out slower now that my writing partner is big and famous.” he says jokingly. 

“Writing partner? Really? Since when did I get promoted to your “writing partner”?”

“I’m only joking. But yeah, it’s not the same around here without you, cherie.” he smiles softly at you “I never got to check up on you after that dinner. Are you okay?”

“Well I mean, I’m as okay as I can be. No one really teaches you what to do when a “good man” hurts you, so.”

“I’m sorry you had to deal with that. He seems like an ass. ”

“You only met him once.” you stated, letting out a small laugh. You continue “Yeah, you know what’s crazy? He came back to my apartment a few hours after dinner.” “Why? What did he want?” 

“He just asked for me to take him back, and when I said no, he told me it wasn’t just his fault that we ended the way we did. He said it was also my fault. He also said some other fucked up shit but, it doesn’t matter. He was right.”

“Whatever he said, that night, don’t believe him. You guys ended because he’s a dick, not because of anything you did.”

“You don’t know what happened.”

“No, I don’t. But I do know you. I know you, ma belle. You are a talented songwriter. You are a hardworking person with so much fire and passion. You are someone who never gives up. Someone who will put others before herself. Someone who is unstoppable. Someone who loves unconditionally and is also unconditionally loved. Someone who remembers everyone's favorite order at the coffee shop so that no one feels left out. Someone that people look up to and admire. You are worthy of all the good in the world. I know who you are. ” You look at him, wondering if you really are worth it. 

But you simply replied “Thank you.”

When you’re left with your own thoughts, you start to wonder, would you be able to sail through the changing ocean tides? Maybe. Would she be able to handle the seasons of your life? Maybe. 

All you know is that you’ll always believe in yourself. Believe that there are people who love you. That supports you. That appreciate you. That see you, for who you truly are. For as long as you live, there will always be people in your corner, even when you don’t think they should be. So, maybe one day you’ll find your person. Maybe one day you’ll build a life with this person. Maybe one day, you will believe it when someone says they love you. 

Maybe one day.

[gatorbites-imagines]

Hii I don't know if you write for TASM peter but if you do could you write one of the nsfw alphabets for him? (From nwh)

Also I love your writing btw. I've been reading it for maybe 2 years now

Peter Parker (TASM) nsfw alphabet

Had this request for a while, and I’m finally getting down to it. It’s been a while since I watched the movie.

Most versions of Peter are pretty similar when it comes to my writing outside of small quirks, so if I wrote about other versions of Peter, they would end up very similar to this one. Maybe a bit of comic peter in this one too.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Peter is very clingy afterwards, in the sense that he just wants contact. Too bad if you feel sweaty and gross afterwards, Peter is gonna lay on top of you, and try to cover as much of your body with his own as physically possible. He also just likes you petting him and cuddling him as aftercare. He also purrs, because I say so.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

On himself its his legs and ass, and Peter will regularly pose in the suit and ask if it “makes his butt look big”. He likes it when you say yes. On his partner, his favorite part is strangely their heart, or more rather the sound of it. he will lay his ear against your chest and almost go into a trance at times because it puts him at ease.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Hes a damn hound for it, you never have to worry about getting it on the sheets because he’s licking it up before it can get there. You swear you’ve heard him chittering before, which would have killed your hard-on if you still had it. he’s got a thing for rubbing his own into your skin, or yours into his, but Peter only does it when he’s really fucked out.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Has some very wild fantasies he’s pretty sure is from the spider bite. Like, why else would he get off to the thought of you trapped in his web, or biting you and injecting you with the venom he doesn’t have, so you get nice and pliant so he can ride you. There was also that one time he had a very horrible fever and dreamed about erotically eating you. He will never bring this up, and take it with him to the grave. Rest in fucking pieces if you have some immortality power.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Depends on when you guys start dating honestly. If you guys date early on he doesn’t have too much, just a bit with Gwen but that’s about it. if you guys first start dating after NWH Peter would have a bit more, if he has people like Black Cat in his universe.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Some crazy flexible position hes only able to pull off, because Peter claims his bones got all “loose” after the bite. You don’t like thinking about what that means. Loves to ride you as well, it gives Peter some wild kind of thrill to pin you down and go at it.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Peter is just goofy in general, so of course he’s goofy in the bedroom too. If he isn’t, then you know something is wrong and you guys need to stop and talk.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Hes very well groomed, Peter shaves most of his body since he doesn’t like the feeling of body hair against the inside of his suit. Peter does leave a tasteful patch of happy trail, because he knows you like it.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Hes so stupidly romantic sometimes it could make your teeth rot. Especially, if it’s after some violent villain attack, or some situation where you might get hurt. Then Peter is all over you, clinging to you, face pressed under your chin or staring deeply into your eyes, as he repeats how much he loves you over and over.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Enough that Peter is embarrassed to admit it. It’s not every single day, but almost. When he first got bit he blamed it on puberty, but as he grew up Peter realized having a higher need, so to say, had to be a result of the bite.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Predator/prey fantasies (will never admit to these)

Bondage, especially with the webs

Cocooning? Don’t know what to call it… completely wrapping you, or himself, in webs, or tape, whatever you guys got

Scent, musk and sweat

Cumplay, of any kind

Throatfucking, hard enough that he’s about to pass out

Doing it in the suit, obviously

Roleplay

Being helpless? I don’t know what to call it, he loves to be at your mercy and knowing there is nothing he can do about it

Doing it in the dark, it triggers some primal part of his brain

CBT… I won’t elaborate (unless you guys ask, of course)

Being ignored or treated like a toy/object (after discussing it first)

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

I feel like his favorite place to do it would be the ceiling or somewhere crazy like that, on the side of a wall maybe? Loves to do it in a chair too, better watch out if you’re trying to work from home, he’s gonna be circling you like a tiger.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

It’s pretty easy to get Peter turned on, and it only seems to get easier with time. It’s like the longer you two are together, the hotter he finds you. Easiest way to get him going is honestly just to give him the look and a good ol “come here” finger motion, and Peter is stumbling over himself to follow.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Isn’t comfortable with kinks that could really hurt you or him. Not a fan of sharing you. Hed be fine with himself being in the middle, but seeing someone else kiss or rub on you makes his blood boil.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Prefers giving. Hes not that good at it in the beginning, like at all, but he’s got the spirit. Its all sloppy and wet and loud, with Peter choking and spilling tears, but he gets it with time. He doesn’t mind getting head in return, but he would much rather be eaten out.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Likes a fast pace, which has resulted in you calling him a rabbit from time to time, with how fast he can go when he’s really excited. When things have been stressful or Peter just needs to feel loved, then he takes it slow.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Big fan of them. There are days where that’s all you guys can have, since he’s busy with spiderman work, actual work, and you have work too. You guys figure it out.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Few things scare peter, so he’s open to try most things. This is where he learned he couldn’t stand others getting too intimate with you. Peter is also a huge advocate for communication and safewords, you can never be too safe.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Incredible stamina that you can only keep up with if you have some kind of power or mutation as well. It takes hours to wring him dry when Peter is doing fine. On days when he is already exhausted, he has the libido and stamina of the average person.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Owns a couple, but nothing too extreme, like a massager, a fleshlight and a vibrator or two. Peter is all up for using them, especially since he knows its hard to keep up with him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Peter is such a tease, even if its just small jokes and flirty comments, or if its full on grinding and dry humping as he mumbles the most filthy things into your ear.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Hes surprisingly quiet, at least in the beginning. Peter is embarrassed about how loud he gets, so he tries to stay quiet. But if you wind him up enough, he starts whining or making sounds that are almost sobs, but without tears. Will growl and get guttural when he’s jealous.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Enjoys both star wars and star trek, but just calls himself a star wars fan since he liked that first, and he doesn’t want to argue about only being loyal to one. Spends way too long on designing his suits and always wonders what would look coolest like a toy. Its not like he gets anything out of it but… he likes seeing the toys and costumes people make, so he wants it to be cool.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Slightly above average in length and thickness, but not too veiny. Tip is weirdly cute and pink, makes you wanna kiss it just seeing it. cut.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Has a pretty high drive but doesn’t let it control him or his day. It’s easy to put aside if there are other things to focus on, but when he gets the time, he lets his mind wander, especially if you two are alone.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Depends on how tired he is honestly, but if you guys have the time he likes to at least lay there and doze off with you, since being in your arms always puts him at ease.

[dawndelion-winery]

I Met You Once, I Loved You Twice

Celebrity au! Their persona, and then their true self, it seems like you were meant to love them regardless

Ft. Childe, Furina, Kaveh, Scaramouche (Wanderer), Wriothesley

[Idol! Childe, Actress! Furina, Racer! Kaveh, Artist! Scaramouche, Athlete! Wriothesley]

Childe:

You knew him before the fame, before the glitz and glamour; when he was just Ajax

And as horribly sappy as it sounds, you've loved him since day 1

Falling in love with Ajax was like slipping on ice while you're hiking up a snowy mountain

You get a little too caught up in the scenery, a tad bit too comfortable being around him

And suddenly, you fail to notice the patch of ice and slip, tumbling down the cliffside, your affection for him snowballing into something greater

And so you support him through his dreams of becoming an idol, writing to him while he's a trainee, making care packages for him

Anything for your Ajax

And when he finally debuts...

Oh boy, all the fans calling themselves his partner? They could dream on

You called dibs on him before any of them even set eyes on him

Besides, how could they even fall for someone just from watching them perform?

That was answered for you the first time Ajax excitedly insisted you watch him in the MV

You're not exactly proud of your reactions to seeing him come up on screen, but he seemed happy enough about it

Falling in love with the idol Childe was like drowning

Holding your breath, choking and flailing

It's dizzying until you finally succumb, which doesn't take long at all

And once he's converted you into a fan?

He's such a little shit, whipping out the idol persona for a smidge of free fanservice just to get you flustered at the most random times

And he's back to your sweet old Ajax in seconds too, acting like nothing's amiss

Furina:

The world's greatest actress finds that the world is her stage

Ever perfect, ever entertaining, her splendour is unparalleled

It was impossible not to adore such craft, and you easily fell in love with her acting just as one would fall asleep, gently and blissfully without even realising

Immersing yourself in her works, you develop a sort of fanaticism, delving deeper to find her interviews

She's beautiful whether or not she's filming, you find

So much so that you can't help but wonder how much of it is true

And so when you do, by some trick of fate, meet her, you feel compelled to ask

It's a dark, foggy evening, and you're taking a brisk walk along the forest

Who would've thought you'd bump into her then?

And so you strike up conversation, eager to interact with your favourite actress

And when you broach the topic of her facade, you notice she gets a tad bit defensive

So you apologise and back off, meaning well, hoping to see her again

And you do: these late walks become a regular thing, and slowly, you start to know her for who she really was

It's almost like meeting her for the first time all over again, and it very well may have been if you don't count the act as meeting her

Falling for Furina, your friend, was like taking an ice bath

Frigidity seized you almost instantly, and yet, as you stayed longer, the more pleasant it felt, almost soothing in a sharp sort of way

Kaveh:

Not just anyone could race in what was known to be the pinnacle of motorsports

And Kaveh? He was brilliant, the light of Ksharewar, the face of the team

And frankly, a very charming face

Often regarded as one of the prettiest on the grid (if not the prettiest)

He's really raking in the viewers

Imagine people seeing *1* edit of him getting out his his car post race and suddenly they're invested in races

Ofc being a new fan, the gatekeeping you have to put up with is ridiculous

"I bet your favourite driver is Kaveh because he's handsome."

As if he's not one of the most talented to ever grace us with his presence?

He gets so involved with the car's engineering honestly he should just build the car himself too atp

He is speed on the track

And falling for the light of Ksharewar through the television screen is an adrenaline rush in and of itself

So bumping into him in real life was just breathtaking

You sincerely hoped you didn't come off as some crazed fanatic with the way you rambled on about how much you loved seeing the way he pushed the car to its limits and everything

Overall it was a great once in a lifetime experience and you planned to treasure it

Until it was just a once in a lifetime thing and you seemed to bump into him a fair bit ("Hey aren't you that fan that completely went off about the car that time?")

Once you'd started talking to him more frequently, the rush of meeting him started to fade into less of a frenzy, and more of a bubbling excitement

Falling in love with Kaveh was like taking a breath of fresh air and letting the chilly breeze fill your lungs, a crisp clarity creeping through your senses

But from the faint flush of pink on his cheeks, perhaps the opposite was the case on his end

Scaramouche(Wanderer):

You've heard of artists with depression, now what about artists with borderline personality disorder?

The first time you'd met him, you didn't even know it was him

You'd been at an art gallery admiring the works signed off by Kunikuzushi when a stranger stood beside you

"You've been staring at this sculpture for a pretty long time."

"I like it. I don't think I've ever felt such yearning embedded in stone."

The stranger didn't respond, but nodded in acknowledgement and continued to stand beside you

Falling for Kunikuzushi was like falling in love with shadows

It was no more than a feeling, a yearning, a desperation much like what he portrays in his works

Everything you knew about him seemed to drown in sorrow, loneliness, and self destruction, yet having never met him, you were sure this was only one small aspect of his being

Which left you ever curious

Curiouser still was that same stranger with the odd navy blue hair who always seemed to happen to bump into you at these exhibitions

Without fail, he'd prompt you to speak, as though digging for your thoughts on each piece

Not that it bothered you, the stranger felt familiar, and had become a welcome face

Warm was his presence and gentle was his gaze, yet a detached coldness kept you from him

He was beautiful, you noted, like moonlight, with all it melancholic splendour and grace, like the paintings and sculptures you loved so dearly

And so you found yourself falling for a beguiling stranger whose name you knew not

You loved him like the sea loves the shore, always reaching for him, but pulling back in uncertainty

"You're oddly silent today," he notes.

"I was thinking of how much this piece reminds me of us. It's weird, isn't it? How I'm seeing things, drawing links to some stranger."

"Not really. I made it like that for you. We don't have to be strangers."

Wriothesley:

Baseball player Wriothesley who has his fans swooning at his charming grin and chuckle

A real heart stopper (he could beat me with his bat)

Fans adore him regardless of whether they're simps (they are) because he's good at his job

The only people who hate him are fans of the opposing team

The way his arms flex with every swing, in this essay I will-

He's built like a tank and plays like one too

So obviously you'd expect him to be a pretty confident kind of guy

And he is

He's a charmer, a smooth talker, and painfully level headed

So why was this beefy cannon suddenly bashful over your incessant praise?

Just look at him, which of his fans haven't fallen completely smitten?

Falling for the star player was like stepping into a big city for the first time, and being wowed and blinded by the lights and massive skyscrapers

But Wriothesley was a soft person at heart

And oh so very vulnerable to affection

For every compliment you uttered, he'd readily deflect it, but when they just didn't end?

Boy was he at a loss

He did end up treating you to coffee, so that was nice

But he was very obviously avoiding your gaze which he deemed to raw for him to meet

Yet it is that exact raw adoration that he can't quite dismiss

He knows how superficial fawning can be, yet there's an undeniable gratification when it comes from you

So he keeps you at arm's length, letting you in ever so slightly, but never too close despite not pushing you away

Falling in love with Wriothesley was like planting a seed and nurturing it as it grows

The germination takes place out of sight, the results unnoticeable until it finally sprouts as a fragile sapling

Discouraging as it may be, with continued work, it does get easier

And when he's secure enough to trust you entirely...he promised to return all your efforts tenfold

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