#there is no way he would NOT miss the people who gave him everything when he was lost in the dark

[majesty31]

Could you write a fic where the reader gets the flare instead of Newt and pls make it really angsty

𝙻𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚈𝚘𝚞 | 𝙽𝚎𝚠𝚝 𝚡 𝚏𝚎𝚖 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

𝒂/𝒏: 𝒀𝒆𝒔 𝑰 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝑰 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒈𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒂 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒆. 𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒄𝒓𝒂𝒛𝒚 𝒊𝒏 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆 𝒏𝒈𝒍, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒚𝒆𝒔 𝑰 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝑰 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝑵𝒆𝒘𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝑰 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒊𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒈𝒖𝒚𝒔 𝒈𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒎𝒆 𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝑰 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝑵𝒆𝒘𝒕, 𝒐𝒓 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒔.

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓/𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒍𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝑵𝒆𝒘𝒕, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒖𝒑 𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒊𝒎. 𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒕? 𝑾𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒓𝒚, 𝒐𝒓 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒉𝒆 𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎?

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: 𝑰 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕𝒚 𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒚, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆. 𝑻𝒂𝒍𝒌 𝒐𝒇 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉, 𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒌 𝒐𝒇 𝒄𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒌𝒔, 𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒌 𝒐𝒇 𝑾𝑰𝑪𝑲𝑬𝑫, 𝒚𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒚. 𝑰 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒍.

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 𝟑.𝟕𝒌

It had been a couple of weeks since you all had gotten rescued from the maze, and since you found out that WICKED were the ones to do just that. Being on the run was no picnic, one of the reasons being because you were an awful runner or more so you had almost zero stamina, and also the fact that everything that was wrong with the world was running through your veins as well.

You had noticed it almost instantly, the way you wouldn't be able to catch your breathing, sure you had bad stamina but it was never that bad, you felt dizzier rather fast and your mood swings were all over the place. You didn't think much of it until you saw your arms, the black veins were a clear sign of how far gone you were.

It did scare you, maybe more than you let yourself believe but you were also so tired. So tired of running from one bad person to the next, it felt as if this world was full of nothing but bad people, you truly didn't know if you'd find what the other gladers were searching for. A safe place. Away from the people who wanted you for nothing other than what was in your blood.

You hadn't told anyone what was going on. You knew if you did they would do anything to keep you from dying this way. Maybe even postpone getting back Minho. And you couldn't let them do that, he was the one person who gave you hope in the glade, who told you he would get you out alive. And you believed him. He kept that promise, and now you'd do anything to get him out alive as well, even if that meant sacrificing yourself.

But the thing was, if you did do just that, there would be one person who would never forgive you. He would do just about anything for you, he would even take this flare if it meant you would get to live. He had always talked about how it would be if you finally got out of the maze, but you knew it had nothing to do with the life he wanted. No, it was your life he was so worried about. He said that you deserved a life far beyond the glade walls, a normal life.

But nothing was normal about this life, in fact the glade walls gave you more normality than this dump. In all honesty you missed the glade, missed the laughs, the friends you had to leave behind. At least there were times when life felt okay, but now it always felt like a struggle to keep moving, and there were no times when life felt okay.

The only times life felt just a little bit better was with him. You could tell Newt felt the same you did, in fact they all did, but he never showed it. He would always try to make you smile, laugh, distract you from the world you all came to know. Your feelings for him would grow just that much more when he would do that. And you hated it.

Newt was the one person that you had to tell, but he was also the only person you couldn't. He would drag you off to find a cure, back to Vince and force him to heal you. But you couldn't do that, Minho needed you all, and you couldn't just leave him in that place to rot.

"You know this isn't what I thought the world would be like," Newt's voice cut through the silence. "I thought the maze was the worst it could get. You know," He turned to face you, his dark eyes meeting yours, a half smile on his face. "I actually thought our parents would be out here, looking for us."

"Maybe they are," You replied, your gaze moving over the broken down buildings, wondering how everything used to look before the world went to shit.

"I don't think things work out like that for us," His voice grew soft, his hand coming up to tuck away a stray hair behind your ear which caused your whole body to warm. "But they should, at least for some of us," you turned to face him, the look in his eyes causing your heart to flutter. It was as if every time you looked into his eyes, they would just automatically grow soft. When you first met him you thought that was just the person he was, but then you saw how they shown different for you. You never knew why.

And you were starting to hate the way he would look at you, as if you were the only person in the world, the only one who he would not just die for, but kill for. Soon enough you would be gone, and he would blame himself endlessly. You knew you had a deep love for Newt, one that you would never feel for anyone else, but those feelings would fade away with your soul.

"You need to stop looking at me as if you're in love with me," And there it was, the words you never wanted to say. But you just couldn't keep them to yourself anymore, someone had to know, and if you didn't tell him then did you truly love him at all.

"What?" His expression switched like a blink of an eye. He pulled away a little, his eyes turning concerned. For a second he looked as if he was about to deny it, tell you it was all in your head, that he wasn't in love with you, you were just a good friend. But then he sighed, and it looked as if he was about to confess to something you already knew. "How can I not,"

The words were so soft, and for some odd reason they hit deeper than they should have. You were silent for a little, your eyes locked on his as he poured out his feelings through that gaze alone. But you shook your head, your hands covering his eyes. He wasn't allowed to look at you like that when you could very well become a monster next week.

"Stop it Newt-"

"Why? You know that I've loved you for years. I never tried to hide it," He took your hand off his face, holding it more gently than you even thought possible. "And I know you feel the same. Why would that ever be a bad thing-"

"Because," You couldn't seem to finish the sentence, you wanted to, your mouth was open but the words were stuck in your throat, refusing to come out, refusing to destroy the only boy you had ever come to love.

"You can't even give a reason-"

"I can! But you won't understand why I kept it from you!" This caught his attention, worry and fear coating his whole face.

"What… what are you talking about?" He knew. Of course he did, it was obvious, especially to him, someone who spent as much time with you as he has. But he was to scared to uncover it for what it really was, and you didn't want to be the one to spell it out for him.

Your eyes turned sad causing his breathing to get faster. "I'm sorry Newt," He shook his head slightly, looking as if he was about to have some kind of panic attack. But before he got the chance to do that, someone bursted through the roof door.

"We have a way in,"

~~~

"Okay this is crazy," You whisper yelled to Gally as your eyes frantically snapped to a bound Tressa, who had a bag over her head. You didn't even know how they got her here without causing some big commotion, it was a ridiculous plan that would most likely not work. None of you should trust her, she was the reason you were all in this mess to begin with. Why on earth would she agree to help if she didn't agree from the start. She was the one who got Minho captured, and who knew what she was doing to him behind closed doors.

"This is the only way in Y/N. Do you want this whole trip to be for nothing? Or do you wanna get Minho back?" Gally whisper yelled back, his finger pointing to your face, as it always was when he tried to prove a point. At any other time you would've grabbed it and tried to break it, but you stayed quiet because this did seem like the only way in. "If you’ve got a better plan, I’m all ears. Otherwise, shut it and let me handle this.”

"Fine, but don't say anything stupid. If that's even possible for you," Without waiting for his response, you turned on your heel and stalked back toward the group. The others were seated in a loose semi-circle, all eyes fixed on Tressa like she might explode at any second. They looked as wary as you felt, but none of them said a word as Gally asked Newt to remove the bag from her head.

You and Gally had a strained relationship and never really got along in the glade, maybe because you were the first girl and he hated change, but you knew it was only because you had accidentally broken three of his fingers while training to become a builder.

You felt Newts glare before you even turned your eyes up, you could feel how mad he was at you from miles away, and Newt was rarely mad—especially at you.

Newt tugged the bag from Teresa's head, she blinked, adjusting to the sudden light, but your eyes stayed on Newt as he stalked back towards you.

He clutched the bag as if it would turn back time to the day you found out, as if he held it any tighter it would've made you gone straight to him with the news. But it didn't, and Newt could be as mad as he wanted, it wouldn't turn back time, and even if it did, you would've done the same thing over again.

You turned away when he took a seat next to you, his anger radiating off of his form, almost sucking out the air in your lungs. But you didn't say a word, and just watched as Gally spoke to Teresa, a little surprised that he threatened to cut her finger off but you didn't much care if he did. So long as you got Minho back.

Soon enough she agreed, and one by one you all got the chips out of your necks with a lot of reassurance from Thomas that she wouldn't just cut your throats while she was at it. Newts harsh stare was on you the whole time Teresa was cutting you open, a cloth in his hand as he dabbing the place where she took his chip.

You didn't know weather to glare back or just ignore him, you could understand why he was mad, you knew you would be furious if he did the same to you but it was over and done with, his anger would only make it worse from here. So you opted to just give him a blank stare, but that only seemed to make it worse.

Because after you were done, and began getting ready to go into the city, Newt came rushing towards you. No one was in the room, so it was just the two of you. Which let Newt almost yell at you from his place in front of you.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" He asked, grabbing the gun you were just about to reload out of your grasp, his stare almost as piercing as a sward.

"I was reloading my gun," You snipped back, trying to grab it out of his hands.

"No you're not," He said as he moved the gun further out so you wouldn't be able to grab it. You bit the inside of your cheek, trying hard not to lose your temper. "You wanna know why?"

"Why?"

"Because you aren't coming with us-"

"Oh please Newt don't make me laugh. I'm not just gonna sit here while you idiots go into WICKED alone-"

"Yes you are. You aren't fit to go out there-"

"Fit?"

"Yes fit. Look at your state, you can barely keep up with the rest of us, you would only be putting yourself in danger if you come-"

"I'm not gonna let you all go without me understand? The only way I'm staying is if you tie me to a chair, otherwise I'm shucking coming!" Newt's anger seemed to grow like a wildfire, fems looked to be coming out of his ears, and his eyes looked almost as if he would be the one to kill you before the flare even had the chance too.

"You are one of the most selfish people I've ever met," Your brows furrowed, anger slowly coming into your blood as well.

"Me?" You yelled, slamming down the bullets you had in your hands on the table, causing a load sound to ripple throughout the room.

"Yes you!" Newt yelled back, stepping closer as he pointed to your chest. "You are so shucking self centred you that don't see the rest of us who have to deal with your bloody decisions," you were about to yell back but he cut you off real quick. "No it's my turn to talk and you will keep your mouth shut until I'm done,"

You were shocked, he had never spoken to you, or anyone else like this before, and to be honest it scared you a little bit. Newt was always such a calm person, he almost never got angry, he was always the voice of reason, the one to tell the others to calm down. But it was as if he finally exploded.

"How do you think I felt when you told me that you got the flare? That you had it this whole time, and that if you told us before we left we could've gotten you cured like Brenda. How can you be so selfish that you kept this from not just me but everyone else." He got closer the more he spoke, his anger only getting worse, but you kept your mouth shut. "You know I always thought you were this perfect person, someone who didn't have flaws, which always seemed impossible because everyone had them but for some reason you never did. That was until right now, you wanna know what your problem is?" It was silent, as if he was really asking you, and even if he was, you for once didn't know what to say.

"Your problem is that you don't care about getting hurt. But you know how I'll feel? I'll be devastated. And if you die I will go out of my bloody mind!" He was so close that you debated on weather you should take a step back or not. "you see death doesn't happen to you Y/N it happens to everyone around you. To all the people left standing at your funeral, if you'll even be able to have one, but we'll all still be trying to figure out how we're gonna live the rest of our lives without you in it!"

"Newt-"

"No! You don't understand how much I love you, if you did you wouldn't never kept such a thing from me. You would've never left me here to live without you!" You flinched, his words hitting you like a blow as tears threatened to slip down your face. At your reaction his face softened, his eyes turning warm as he slowly shook his head. "No I'm sorry I didn't mean…" He trailed off, taking a step closer, watching your reactions to see if you'd step away. And when you didn't he took your face in his hands, turning it up so your eyes would meet with his.

"I'm sorry," They were the only words that seemed to come out, the only words that would mean anything right now. You couldn't say much else, you couldn't go back, you could only make him forgive you before everything would go to shit. Before it was too late.

He didn't say anything else, his eyes holding so much love you thought you'd drown from just looking into them. When he moved, it was sudden, you didn't even get the change to catch your breath before his lips crashed into yours.

It wasn’t gentle, not even close. His lips moved against yours with a desperation you’d never felt before, his hands sliding from your face to thread into your hair, pulling you impossibly closer. It was like he was pouring every unspoken word, every ounce of his love, anger, and fear, into this one moment. There was no hesitation, no gentleness.

You couldn't stop yourself. Your body reacted before your mind could catch up, your hands gripping his shirt tightly as if letting go would make him disappear. He groaned into the kiss, a sound low and husky that sent a shiver down your spine. His lips parted against yours, his breath hot and ragged. You could feel the tremble in his hands, the way his breath hitched against your lips, like he was terrified this might be the last time he’d get to do this. And maybe it would be.

When his hands slid down your sides, his grip firm, your knees buckled. He caught you effortlessly, lifting you from your thighs as though you weighed nothing, causing you to gasp softly into his lips.

For a second, you thought he might slam you against the wall, let the weight of all that anger explode into something even more uncontrollable. But instead, he carried you with a steady stride and sat you down in a chair.

The open mouthed kiss broke for a moment, just long enough for you to draw in a shaky breath, your lips swollen and tingling. Your heart pounded as he hovered over you, he had never looked so irresistible before with his hair messy and that look in his eyes that made your core burn.

His eyes locked onto yours, the love and anger swirling together into something almost unbearable. “You have no idea how much you mean to me,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, trembling. “No idea how much it kills me to think I might lose you.”

Your heart pounded so hard you thought it might burst. You reached for him again, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him back to you. This time, the kiss was slower but no less desperate, a mixture of apology and promise, of everything you couldn’t find the words to say.

But then his hands moved again, and you felt the rough brush of rope against your wrist. You pulled back, blinking up at him in confusion, your chest rising and falling rapidly.

"Newt…" you started, your voice weak and breathless. But before you could even try to stand, he tied it quickly to the armrest of the chair.

"Don’t," he said, his voice low but firm, almost breaking. "Don’t make this harder than it has to be."

You snapped out of your haze then, tugging at your wrist, anger bubbling up inside you. "Newt, what the hell are you doing? Let me go right now!"

His hands didn’t falter, even as you fought against him. He moved quickly, tying your other wrist down, and then crouched to secure your ankles. You thrashed in the chair, rage filling every inch of your body. "Newt! Stop this right now! You can’t leave me here!"

"You’re not coming with us," he said, his voice strained but unyielding. His hands moved with purpose, tying the knots securely despite your struggles. "You can hate me for it if you want. I don’t bloody care."

"You can’t do this! Newt, please!" Your voice cracked as you tried to pull free, but he’d made sure you wouldn’t be able to. "I swear to God, if you leave me here—"

"You gave me this idea, you know." His voice wavered slightly, and he glanced up at you, his eyes full of something that looked heartbreakingly like regret. "Told me yourself the only way you’d stay was if someone tied you down. So here we are."

"Newt, no," you begged, your tone shifting to desperation. "Please don’t do this. I need to help. I can’t just stay here—"

"I’m not losing you!" he snapped, his voice louder then you’d ever heard it, making you freeze. He leaned closer, his face just inches from yours, his eyes blazing. "I won’t bloody lose you. Not to the Flare, not to WICKED, not to anything. Do you hear me? I can’t."

Tears pricked at your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. "You don’t get to make this choice for me," you spat, your voice trembling with rage.

"You made your choice when you kept this from me," he shot back, his words cutting deep. "Now it’s my turn." He stepped back, his hands still shaking as he tied the last knot. He stared at you for a long moment, his jaw clenched tightly. Then, softer, barely audible: "I love you too much to let you kill yourself for us. You’re staying here."

"Newt, please!" you screamed, thrashing against the ropes as he turned to leave. "Don’t do this! Don’t you dare walk out that door!"

But he didn’t look back. He was already gone. And with him, the rest of the group. The door slammed shut, leaving you alone, your screams echoing in the empty room. You struggled against the bindings until your wrists burned, but they wouldn’t budge.

You were furious—at him, at yourself, at the whole damn world. But beneath all that rage, buried so deep it hurt to admit, was the smallest flicker of something else. Love. Desperation. And a fear so raw you couldn’t breathe. Because you knew, as much as you hated him for it, that Newt had tied you up because he loved you. And you couldn’t hate him for that. Not really.

[bisexualcroissant]

The Line is so scarily perfect for Viktor’s character it hurts like getting suckerpunched every time I listen to it.

My body’s on the line now

I can’t fight this time now

I think these lines go without saying but the way they reflect so much of Viktor’s predicaments throughout the series…It’s devastating. When he was dying in season one, his body failing him, waking up to Jayce at his side and asking—How much time do I have left? Then the first time he died after Jinx’s attack, and Jayce’s absolute horror seeing him, his refusal to lose Viktor as he sprinted back to the lab, desperate to try anything. Do anything. Then the second time, when Jayce killed him, and when he says goodbye to Sky as he loses the last of his humanity to Singed’s work, when he says “I will miss our talks,” and Sky says firmly, “No, you won’t.”

I’d rather you not be here for what could be my final form — as Viktor gets further from his humanity, loses more and more of it as he turns into the Machine Herald; the way he’s basically saying, I’d rather you not be here for this, when I lose myself, when I forget who I used to be. I read most of the lines in this song as a plea from Viktor’s most human parts to Jayce, aware that he’s slipping away from himself but unable to really do anything about it.

Did I disappoint you?

Makes me think of when a horrified Viktor, coming back to himself, asks Jayce: “Why do you persist? After everything I’ve done?” And all Jayce says, before reaching out to hold him, is “Because I promised you.”

Keep the memories of who I was before — Before everything fell apart, back when it was just Viktor and Jayce working in the lab together, fuelled by their visions and dreams. “Now…all I want…is my partner back.”

And not to mention the line change to:

My body’s on the line now

Pull the blanket tight now

Jayce’s blanket—the one Viktor never let go of to the end. Even when he was the furthest from his humanity, he still had Jayce’s blanket wrapped around himself. The one Jayce put on him to keep him warm, even when Viktor could no longer feel cold.

If I cross the line… The way Viktor was so horrified when he came back to himself, realising what he’d done and what he had become, only for Jayce to not care—the same way he didn’t care how changed Viktor was when he woke up: “What am I?” “You’re alive.” For Jayce to tell him You were never broken, Viktor, and there’s beauty in imperfections and all of it made up an inseparable piece of everything I admired about you.

Even when Viktor was lost to himself, when he was gone far enough that he was ready to remove the humanity from so many people, lost in the idea of the Glorious Revolution that would only come to disaster, Jayce never gave up on keeping his promise to Viktor. He still loved him through everything, enough to be the only one in any universe that could show Viktor the way out and bring him back to himself again.

like just FUCK ME oh my god.

[doshi-sukiru]

Okay 2 more questions because your SG au will not leave my brain alone (/pos)

What was going through Orion’s mind leading up to trying to kill Sentinel (and when he accidentally axed Dee instead???) Was it similar to D-16’s in the movie? What did he do after he nearly killed Dee? Did he think he killed Dee and Starscream quietly dragged him off and used Megatronus’ cog to repair him? Did OP know what happened but couldn’t stop them from getting away?

Also, how did he get the Matrix this time?

Thank you!

So that actually changed after @/angstychilz and I rediscussed that!

So we believed it seemed unlikely to actually get D-16 in the way fast enough to take the hit. A blast it very fast. A swing? It's connected to his arm, so it's likely Orion would stop it before it would hit his beloved.

Instead, we decided how while D-16 would get the high guard to help him use Airachnid's memories to defame Sentinel, Orion managed to chop off Sentinel's arm, the one that the false prime turned into a blaster to shoot D with in the original (important for later).

Orion was feeling giddy at the start. He got to finally kill the mech that caused him and the other cogless bots to suffer, the mech that killed the primes for power, and the mech who hurt his beloved (quick note D was still the one who got caught and still got the scar-). When he saw D approach him in the midst of him beating up Sentinel, he is happier, before realizing that D was asking him to stop and hold back for a moment longer.

During this small pause between D and Orion near the pit while D is trying to convince Orion to not kill Sentinel, and Orion is trying to force D to agree with him like he always does, they miss what Sentinel is doing exactly.

In that moment, Sentinel had noticed everyone was distracted by their argument, and snatched Elita's gun from her quickly to shoot at them. Orion noticed too late, and only had seconds as he watched D fall down the pit from the blast. He sobbed for a moment as Elita and Bee quickly restrained the prime again, before Optimus went back to Sentinel and tore him apart slowly in front of everyone as revenge for killing D-16.

The moment Sentinel died, Primus gave him the Matrix of Leadership before everyone, claiming that he was worthy since he protected the people of Iacon from a dangerous threat, and through his first order he demands the destruction of any trace of Sentinel. In that moment, Starscream quickly slips to the pit edge, and steals Megatronus's cog before flying down to the pit. He wanted to keep the Prime's cog out of any cogless bot's servos out of fear they grow too dangerous, and so throwing it in the pit would be a good idea. He, Shockwave and Soundwave all respected D 16 for the mech he was, and so Starscream planned on retrieving his corpse to give him a proper burial.

Optimus did not notice Starscream doing this btw, he only saw Soundwave and Shockwave with the other high guard helping innocent bystanders move away from the destruction when it occurred, and ignored them.

When Starscream found D-16, however, he realized he was still alive, but death was near. D-16 landed on a ledge side because Primus would not let him fall any further like how Optimus did. Out of panic, Starscream quickly switched out the damaged cog for Megatronus's, and through the healing factors, he was fixed and reframed. D was surprised, and in the midst of trying to understand how he was alive, Starscream chose to have him redesignated to Megatron, to match the cog he now bore.

When Optimus and Megatron met each other, Optimus hugged him, and apologized heavily for not stopping D from taking the hit. He then tries to pull him along to tell him about what he's missed and he plans to do now that he was a Prime, as a way to rebuild their lives after everything, but Megatron immediately tries to get Optimus to call off the destruction.

This angers Optimus, and at first he believed it was Starscream's doing, since he brought Megatron back to the top of the pit. Optimus lunged at the seeker, and Megatron quickly intercepted him, and basically ensued the fight that we saw in the original.

Eventually, when Megatron's cannon is destroyed, Optimus banishes Megatron and the high guard, leading to everything I've mentioned so far.

I hope that cleared up the rest of your questions, friend!

[jessicaloons]

Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince:

Chapter 7

Masterlist - Previous - Next

Miss Americana

June 2023:

Nice was beautiful. And warm. And bright. Romantic little alleyways everywhere. The people a bright mix of residents and tourists. But what surprised Rachel the most was that so many people spoke Italian. She didn’t expect it but it gave her hope that she might get along way better than she thought. She checked into a small hotel close to the promenade, enjoying the southern French sun that streamed through her windows.

Rachel sat on her little balcony, watching the happy buzzing beneath her, the busy street, googling for Madame Leclerc’s hair salon. It took her a while to find it, for some reason a handsome young man, who she thought she saw somewhere before, was the search result most of the times. But when she finally found the hair salon, she wrote down the address, before she googled a hotel in Monaco. The prices went through the roof and she chose the cheapest one she could find. Wasting all her money for hotel rooms wasn’t planned and she hoped she would find a job quickly. It was early afternoon when she felt the tiredness overthrowing her. She checked her phone, counting what time it was in Montreal, realising that she was awake for over 24 hours at this point. She had tried to sleep on the flight, preventing herself from a jet leg, but she was too nervous, too excited, to sleep. The young woman decided to take a quick shower and then head straight to bed. But before, she locked her hotel room door twice, put the door chain on, and then looked around, spotting the metal cup filled with sticks full of sugar and wood sticks to stir some coffee or tea. She emptied out the cup and then carefully put it on the door handle, to be alarmed if anyone would try to come into her room, giving her time to escape out of the balcony. Rachel looked at her work and sighed, feeling way too paranoid as she stubbed her toe against her backpack, next to the bed. It was packed with all her documents, money, phone charger and some clothes, including her sneakers, ready to grab and leave in case she had to flee. Having an escape plan at all times was mandatory, according to Stuart and although Rachel was more than sure that no one had followed her, she agreed with him and wanted to be prepared for everything. She decided to stay for a couple of days in Nice. Making sure that she was really safe. And alone. Thoughts of her old life, her old identity, crossed her mind. She had to think back at how she met Stuart‘s 'friend' Isabella. She was an odd person, mysterious, a little scary maybe. She had brown hair and besides a 'hello' and 'where’s your stuff' she didn’t say much, only starting to change into some of Rachel’s clothes from her open suitcase on the bed, before she closed it. A look through the room and she stepped in front of the mirror, putting a blonde wig on, she had just pulled out of her bag, followed by Rachel’s large shades she had grabbed from the drawer. She handed Rachel a keycard to a different room and told her to go there, then grabbed the suitcase and her handbag and left as fast as she had appeared, leaving behind a confused Rachel, who grabbed her stuff and left the room to enter the new one three doors down the hallway. Just like Isabella said.

Rachel laid in bed for a while, thinking about all kinds of abstruse ends of her old life. What Isabella had done to her belongings. Maybe they would end up in a burned out car, or thrown out at some landfill where maybe one of the workers would find it. Maybe they would inform her father, and he would assume that his daughter was kidnapped, murdered, gone. She shook her had, biting her lips. She knew that it would break his heart, but it was the only way to escape her fate. But thinking back how lost and devastated he was when the doctors told him that her mother didn’t make it off the table, the pained scream he let out, so bone chilling that Rachel got goosebumps just thinking about it. It made her feel sick to her stomach and she had to urge herself to think about something else. Her new life ahead. A clean cut. Besides Stuart, no one knew she was gone. No one knew she had a new identity. And until tomorrow evening or rather late at night it would stay this way. When Don Romano’s men would come to pick her up from college and wouldn’t find her. Finding out that she graduated a week earlier, that she was gone. Then it would be time for her to stay alert, watch her surroundings. Hope that no one showed up for her. Hope that their plan had worked out and she was free. With the thoughts of a better life ahead, she drifted into a dreamless sleep, finally succumbing to her bodies need for rest.

4 days. 96 hours. 5760 minutes. That was the time it took for her father and the men he worked for to trace Rachel’s steps all the way to Montreal. The hotel she had chosen back there was small, no high quality security cameras, only a grainy tape of a blonde girl checking into the hotel under the name of Rachel Lombardi and then 4 days later checking out of the hotel. That was it, that was the trail of traces she had left, buying a ticket to Montreal with her credit card, checking into the hotel with her credit card, renting a car with her credit card. And that was where the trail ended. Another grainy video of the blonde girl at the car rental, loading her suitcase into the trunk of the car. A car that had disappeared since then.

"Everything is going according to our plan… you disappeared into the Canadian wilderness…" Stuart said and Rachel took a deep breath.

"They stopped looking for me?" she almost whispered.

"Well, there are still two men here, I don’t know what they are doing right now, but the other two men left. They tried to ping your phone, but the last signal it sent was on the highway out of town and since then it’s gone completely off the radar."

"So it worked? I’m gone? They can’t find me…" she felt tears stinging in her eyes.

"I think so, yes. I will check in on what’s going on here for the next couple of days and what these two guys that stayed behind do, but yeah for now, I’d say Rachel Lombardi is gone."

Rachel stayed quiet, thinking about his words before she let out a sigh.

"I would feel better if I’d knew what these two guys were doing…"

"Don’t worry, okay? I’ve got someone looking for them. We figure out what’s going on, but you’re far away, you shouldn’t be too worried okay? It’s fine. You’re fine." Stuart tried to reassure her and after another moment of silence Rachel nodded.

"You’re right. Your plan worked out so far, I have no doubt it won’t work out anymore out of the blue." she replied laying back in her bed, switching off the nightstand lamp "It’s going to be fine."

"Exactly. Stop worrying and start living la dolce vita!"

"I’m trying, I promise."

"That’s the spirit. I’ll give you a call as soon as I found out what’s going on with the two who stayed behind… until then, enjoy the sun, the gelato, the vine."

"I will…"

"Alright. And now good night, relax, stop worrying, okay?" Stuart urged again and Rachel chuckled a little.

"Good night, Stuart…"

The little bookstore right by the sea made Rachel swoon. It looked so cozy and dreamy that she knew she could spend hours if not days in there, but she came with her mind set on a goal.

"Hi- umm… I’m looking for books to learn French better, please?" she stammered in the worst kind of French and the older lady at the counter smiled at her.

"Oh dear, here, let me show you!" she replied in English, her French accent sounding almost melodic. She waddled away, the young girl in tow, and pointed to a section of dictionaries and other language learning books. "Here we have everything for you. Take your time…" she smiled and walked off, scratching a black cat’s head that was resting between two piles of books "I’ll get you a treat Rico." Italian.

"Do you think it’s easier to learn French from Italian or from English?" the young girl asked.

"Oh, you speak Italian? Then I would recommend you the Italian ones."

"Alright…" Rachel grabbed one of the books and sat down in one of the armchairs, Rico getting up from his spot, walking over to the young girl "Hi Rico." she smiled, scratching his head a little.

"That never happened before…" the book shop owner said "He doesn’t like strangers at all!"

"This cuddly one?" Rachel laughed, when Rico literally clung to her legs, circling them.

"Yeah… that must mean he thinks you’re a good person. Trustworthy." the older lady smiled, crouching down a little to give her cat a treat "You know, cats have a sixth sense for that…"

"Yeah, maybe…" the girl swallowed thickly, thinking about how she wasn’t that trustworthy after all, hiding her true identity.

"Have you found a book?"

"Umm- yes. I think I’ll go with this one. It’s for starters…"

"You should also get a book in French… read it, try to use you’re Italian to translate it, and if you don’t know a word or two you can have a look in a dictionary… that way you’ll learn even faster!"

"Sounds like a good plan, thank you!" Rachel smiled, patting the cat’s head.

"What kind of books are you into? Romance? Fantasy? Thriller? Dark romance? We’ve got a whole collection of Mafia romance books, it’s the newest trend I guess…" the elder lady pointed at some books displayed on a table but Rachel shook her head.

"I don’t get how anyone can think that it’s romantic being in the Mafia…" she mumbled.

"It’s always a dark, broody and mysterious guy fighting and protecting his girl… lots of young woman seem to like it… they are also- umm let’s say they are spicy…" the bookshop owner wiggled her eyebrows.

"Yeah no thanks…"

"Are you into Formula 1? We have some romance books in the Formula 1 world? They’re not really authentic when it comes to racing but oh well…"

"Umm- no. Not into Formula 1. Watching a bunch of guys driving in circles for hours is not really my thing…" Rachel rolled her eyes a little.

"Oh dear this isn’t Nascar. Formula 1 tracks are no circles. We’re close to Monaco, everyone here is crazy about Formula 1." the older lady laughed "Why don’t you have a look around for some books you like and I make us a coffee?"

Rachel wasn’t used to people being this nice and open minded to strangers so she just nodded, confused. But she did what the bookshop owner, she introduced herself as Clarisse, suggested and walked around, searching through the different isles, trying to find the perfect book for her.

"So, where are you from?" Clarisse asked half an hour later, when they both sat down in the plush armchairs, both with a mug full of steaming coffee in hand.

"I’m from… umm-…" Rachel had to think for a moment where here new persona was from, not familiar with the new details "Pennsylvania…"

"Pennsylvania?" the bookshop owner cocked an eyebrow, looking at the girl.

"Yeah, I wasn’t sure if you knew Harrisburg…" she faked a smile, taking a large sip from her coffee "On the other hand, Europeans are way better in geography than us Americans… so…"

"Well, I wouldn’t put it that way… but yeah, you might be onto something there." Clarisse laughed "And what brings you here to Nice? A young, pretty girl like you?"

"Umm-… I’m on a trip through Europe. So I couldn’t miss Nice obviously…" Rachel lied and was happy that Rico decided that now was the perfect time for some more head scratches so he jumped into the girls lap, purring.

"If you’re here, you should also make a stop in Monaco. The rich and the famous living there all together in one little spot. And a lot of Formula 1 drivers… young and handsome, some are single… good catches for a little summer romance." the older lady wiggled her eyebrows and Rachel laughed.

"I’m not interested in a summer romance. I want to see the cities, landmarks, get to know the culture, all the beautiful beaches! Oh and of course the food…" Rachel smiled, she always dreamed of a trip through Europe one day to do exactly that, but she never thought she would get the chance to.

"Well, I can’t argue with that. It sounds like an amazing plan." Clarisse nodded, sipping at her coffee "But I’ll warn you, a beautiful girl like you? Foreign? You will have admirers left and right… men from the south of Europe are all little heartbreakers you know, always here for them pretty girls. Take good care of your heart, or you’ll lose it to one of them…"

"I’ll watch out for heartbreakers… I promise." Rachel laughed.

"Good, very good. So? Did you find some books?" the bookshop owner looked at the little stack of books on the table next to the girl.

"Yeah. I went with books my mother used to read to me like Alice in Wonderland, The Hobbit and some classics like Wuthering Heights and Great Expectations… I guess that should be enough for now. A dictionary, a book to learn French and some French books… I hope it works out." Rachel looked at the books she chose and Clarisse smiled.

"Don’t worry, ma fille, it will. And if not, you could still come here again and we try another book that might help you better…" she sat down her coffee cup and Rachel nodded.

"Yeah. I think I’ll do that. I mean, I will be here for some days… it’s a beautiful city after all…" she replied, looking out of the window, the busy street almost hiding the beautiful Mediterranean Sea behind it.

Rachel spent the next 2 days mostly at the beach, reading her books, trying to learn French and although it was easier with her being fluent in Italian, it still was a lot of work and she knew she had to improve a lot to be able to work as a nurse. She sat on her beach towel, watching the sun slowly set over the horizon when her phone rang and Stuart called her. Taking one last deep breath she answered the call.

"Hi…"

"Hey… well umm- Rachel, I’m almost 100 % sure that the coast is clear. Like completely. The two guys who stayed behind, they left the city on the same highway that you took, probably following more of the CCTV footage that showed Isabella… but that trail ended at a truck stop. The car abandoned, at the end of the parking lot, the CCTV footage only showing you going into the diner and leaving it an hour later, but there is no camera at the parking lot, your suitcase is still in the car, your passport as well, only your wallet and phone gone. They took the suitcase with them and left Montreal this morning…" Stuart explained and Rachel let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding in.

"They’re not looking for me anymore?" she asked quietly "They left?"

"They left, yeah…"

"Okay…" Rachel mumbled closing her eyes but kept silent, the one thing on her mind that she kept thinking off the last days.

"What? What’s going on?" Stuart asked, knowing the girl too well.

"Did they- umm… did they report me as missing?" her voice barely above a whisper and the line went silent, before he cleared his throat.

"No, they didn’t. I mean, they can’t just file a police report that you’re missing… we both know they can’t ask the police for help."

"No… you’re right, they can’t… and the Romano’s only have some people at the customs control at the Boston harbour, some lower ranked police officers and detectives in Woburn and Winchester on their payroll… I don’t think that any of them would be of service to find a missing girl in the Canadian wilderness…" Rachel said quietly, leaning back into her pillows "Do you think they keep looking for me themselves? Or-…" will they just accept that she was gone, not caring what happened to her.

"I guess they will keep looking for you, from time to time, maybe find new traces although there aren’t any… but I’m sure they won’t look for you in Europe and most definitely not in Monaco…"

Rachel thought for a moment, closing her eyes and then began to chuckle.

"What?" Stuart asked but the girl laughed even more "Are you okay?"

"Yeah-… sure…" she breathed out, wiping away a stray tear, not knowing what came over her "I was just imagining… what if they declare me dead. I mean, it looks like some crazy trucker might’ve taken me with him to do what not and then just got rid of me… what if my dad wants a funeral? Or something like that? To say goodbye? What if my dad for once remembers how to be a dad and I’m not even there to witness it…"

"Rach, stop watching these true crime documentaries, your mind is already too dark and twis-…" Stuart began.

"No, I’m serious! I mean, what did I think what would happen? They find my stuff in an abandoned car, no trace of me for days… what would you think? They know how easily you can let someone disappear, they do it all the time. It’s just logical that my dad thinks I’m dead and maybe to make himself feel better he wants a funeral or something…"

"But you don’t have to care about that anymore, okay? Rach you’re safe. Gone. There is nothing that could lead them to you. You are free. Finally. You can live the life you always wanted to. Don’t think about what’s happening back home. It’s over okay? You start your new life in Monaco and find the happiness you deserve…" Stuart tried to calm Rachel down and after a moment of silence he heard the girl taking a deep breath.

"Do you think there will be a coffin? Filled with some of my stuff from my old room?" she then asked.

"Rach!"

"Sorry-… it’s just… you know in movies or tv shows they do it all the time and-…"

"Stop, okay? Stop thinking about that. It’s over now. You live your life in Monaco. They will do whatever they want. But it doesn’t matter anymore, okay? You are free." Stuart’s voice firm "Don’t think about your past. Focus on the now, focus on your future."

"I-…" Rachel stopped, not knowing what to say "I think a part of me still needs to process this all… like let it fully sink in…"

"Understandable. It takes time…" his voice wavered a little.

"I can’t even imagine how hard it must’ve been for you… you were younger. And all alone, no one helped you like you helped me…"

Stuart was silent and Rachel thought she might’ve said something wrong when she heard him chuckle bitterly.

"I wasn’t alone. Someone helped me… but that’s in the past. He is in the past. I got out of my old life, just like you did. You’ll live your new life now in Monaco, I’ll go to LA. We’ll be fine, you and I." he replied, sounding confident.

"Will you be safe in LA? They won’t look for you?" Rachel asked, feeling a pang of guilt in her chest.

"For what it’s worth, we never really interacted on campus, no one knows that we’re friends. And if they would find and ask me, that’s the answer I would be giving. We were classmates, we worked on projects together sometimes, but that’s it. You were not really open minded, most of the time you sat alone in the library studying. So yeah, we didn’t know each other that well."

"That sounded really convincing… ouch…"

"Maybe I should try become an actor, once I’m In LA." Stuart thought out loud and Rachel laughed.

"One thing is for sure, I would be your biggest fan from day one…" she said.

"Oh stop…" he chuckled.

"No, I’m serious, you would be the next big thing without a doubt, but to me you will always be the guy that saved my life. Thanks for that."

"Bit dramatic, but okay."

"I’m serious… you saved my life, Stuart."

"I would do it in a heartbeat again and-… oh shit. That was my flight…" he said hurriedly "I really don’t want to end this call now, but that was the last call for my flight…"

"It’s alright. Call or text as soon as you arrive." Rachel said "Take care. Have a safe flight."

"I text you. For the last time, bye Rach."

Rachel Lombardi was gone.

Disappeared. Missing. Gone. Dead.

She didn’t sleep that night. Her mind trying to grasp the fact that her old life really was over. She really was free. She knew that this was happening. This was what they had planned after all. But having the confirmation that her father, the familia, were looking for her and only find that she had disappeared, not a single trace left. She didn’t know how to feel. Relieved? Sad? Happy? Hopeful? Devastated? It was getting too much in her head and she felt dizzy. She got out of bed, opened the balcony doors and sat down in the chair outside, a clear night sky above. Stars shining brightly. The soft ocean waves crashing down onto the shore ahead of her. With the salty sea breeze in her hair, she took a few deep breaths, trying to calm herself down. She could start a whole new life, now that her old one ended. After a couple of minutes, Rachel went back inside, sinking into the pillows, her head clear. She would book a hotel in Monaco in the next days, then buy some more clothes, appropriate for the warm and sunny days ahead, and then she would take the train to Monaco, finding Madame Leclerc.

If Rachel thought Nice was beautiful, she wasn’t prepared for Monaco. The little alleys between the beautiful houses, the happy mix of French, Italian and English spoken on the streets. Luxurious cars chasing after another in the narrow streets, making people look up at their sound. She followed the directions on her phone, leading her right in front of the hair salon her mother told her all about. The girl pocketed her phone and looked through the window, taking a deep breath before she opened the door, hoping that it wasn’t a mistake to come here. The hairdresser swiped the last remaining hair off of the ground when the door bell rang and she looked up. A young girl stood in the door. A pretty girl. For some reason the Monegasque woman thought she knew the girl from somewhere.

"Sorry? Umm hi. I’m looking for someone." the girl asked shyly. Not from around. Her French sounded foreign "I’m looking for… Mm-… Leclerc…"

The older woman rolled her eyes. Of course. Another fangirl of her son. Looking for him in her salon.

"Listen, you girls need to stop. This is my salon. Charles is barely here! Why would he be! So tell your little friends to stop this nonsense, okay?" Pascale said bluntly and Lauren looked at her in confusion.

"Umm? I- I don’t know who Charles is? I’m looking for Madame-… umm-… Pascale Leclerc? She umm- she helped my mum years ago. And they kinda stayed in touch for a while… and Madame Leclerc told my mum if she ever needs anything she can always contact her…" the young girl explained and the hairdresser looked at her for a moment when her eyes widened.

"Susannah Lombardi? Is that your mother?" she asked and Lauren nodded "Rachel? You’re Rachel?"

Rachel nodded, realising that it was a mistake. She wasn’t Rachel. Not anymore.

"Umm… yeah… but no- I mean… I changed my name. I’m Lauren. Lauren Millner."

Chapter 7 - and here it is, the official name change. Bye Rachel, hello Lauren. We are this 🤏 close to the first meeting of Charles and Lauren 🙈 for now, I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter. Also, congrats to Max on his 4th title, well deserved!

Please leave a comment/ like/ reblog/ message and tell me how you liked it! I'm dying to hear your thoughts!

If you want to be added to the taglist, drop a comment!

Last but not least, English is not my first language and although I tried my best: please excuse any mistakes I made!

Taglist:

@glitterquadricorn @lottalove4evelyn @janeh22 @itsjustkhaos @mariclerc @fangirlforever2000

[riddles-n-games]

That Night In Prague Rant

Let me start off by saying Hannah and Toby's story was amazing and heartbreaking, Libby and Nash were also sweet and supportive of one another, Xander is awesome at giving emotional depth to others even in the strange circumstance of tackling, and Secret Santa was quite literally a blast. But there's one story I haven't mentioned yet, have I? You know which one since it's the literal title to this rant/critique.

To get the basic pleasantries out of the way, I loved the promise ring scene, the way Jameson admires Avery lighting up and wanting to see the world through her eyes, the fact he wrote her postcards, and Avery's protectiveness of him. That's it. Great. Now we can get to the real stuff. My dear Jennifer Lynn Barnes, when you announced this book back in February during the month of romance, I recall that this book promised to deliver on ROMANTIC stories and showing us how a Hawthorne man loves. Why the heck did you keep trying to insert every possible wink wink nudge nudge moment possible in Avery's POV then?

When she stated Avery was gonna have a POV again, I was excited but I wasn't sure if I should leap for joy. See, given how Averyjameson were portrayed in the last book, I was somewhat disappointed since I really wanted to see Avery through Jameson's eyes in a more romantic light. It was an eyeroll, unfortunately, and what a missed chance for a wedding dress ref in the race outfit scene since he gave her a promise ring.

However, people were saying, ah, it's Jameson, he's a teenage boy. And ok, I did bite my tongue after that because alright, that's just him (though I am still bitter about his lack of development in TBH), but that wasn't the case with Avery. She's my girl, I can always rely on her, right? Three books of build up with a pretty solid character voice made her who she became in TFG. Cool, I was ready to go back. And as I said so many times before, she gave Jameson depth which helped us see what so many did not and I loved how she didn't let him get away with certain things. She was sensible.

WTF was this then? This is not Avery Kylie Grambs. This is A Very Random Imposter (you come up with the anagram). Imagine my fricken surprise when out of nowhere Jameson As A Girl.

The crimes of the story: "after a lengthy and not quite G-rated negotiation" (WT actual F), "like his body wasn't tense in all the right ways", "smile of his made me want to do things", “I would let him demonstrate all the many, many reasons he had to be that smug", "His search had been... thorough" (????).

This sounds so cringey and unlike Avery. It felt like JLB was trying to force Max and Jameson and Rohan into her POV. Clearly after only two years of not being in her original character's POV and changing through 5 main characters (which was a horrible idea in the first place), she's managed to mish-mash her only properly developed character into sounding like another person.

The innuendos here are the worst I've seen. Avery has never been crass or sexually charged so why start that now? We already have characters that take on that route and now you're trying to ruin Avery with that? PUH-lease. Jameson was enough in TBH and now you're trying to ruin my girl? NO. Absolutely NOT. If JLB wanted to implement this in the og trilogy, then it should have been done earlier but no, Avery was never that girl and she shouldn't be now.

This isn't and cannot be listed as character growth in the slightest because if she sounded the same after a year in TFG post THL and also sounded like her normal self in Secret Santa which is in the same book as TNIP, there should be no reason why she sounds like this here. It ruins the continuation in her character POV which is something that at this point should be solid as stone. Not to mention, not everything works for everyone and that's ok. While I hate it, it makes more sense in Jameson's POV than hers. In Avery's POV, I cringe at it because it sounds so unnatural for her and feels like I'm looking at someone trying to fit into a crowd they just don't mesh with.

Three books solidified that. Why else did we fall in love with TIG in the first place? Partly because of who Avery was and who she became over the course of the trilogy. She stood out amongst the crowd. Did she have a similar way of thinking about puzzles like Jameson? Yes. Did she have a different approach to romance? Yes. Did she help Jamie become a more sensible guy? Yes! Was their flirty banter fun and interesting? Always. That's part of what made me love them so much in the first place but it shifted so suddenly that now they're sounding like Savannah and Rohan.

In October, when we had the preview of more chapters, I immediately noted this sounds like a very different Avery, either older or an alternate universe version of her. If she wants to do this with Rohannah, go ahead; they're a new budding romance so that has room for whatever she didn't use in other ones but leave Averyjameson as we've known them to be for three novels that solidified who they are. I know other romances should be given a chance, I never said that shouldn't be the case but if I'm being given the chance to see my favorite ship being in the spotlight, then do it right one last time. You have three books as your guideline.

Anyways, I'm dissatisfied so I will be doing a rewrite of TNIP since this is a shorter thing to take care of than a whole novel. Have a great day and thanks for reading. Fics will be out at some point, God, so much real life work to do.

[kimbapisnotsushi]

something about kageyama tobio being nineteen on the national team fresh out of high school and facing the whole world makes my heart ache.

it was everything he ever could have wanted. it was everything he ever did want, once. once kageyama tobio wanted to fly beyond the mountains he called home and soar into distant lands. once he wanted to climb to the top of the world until he was so high up that the sun and the moon and the stars were nothing but ants compared to him. once kageyama tobio wanted to do all these things alone — except he wouldn't be, not really, because he had someone who loved him and understood him and that was enough to shoulder a dream that blazed so bright it could burn him from the inside out with a single misstep.

and then kazuyo died and everything came crashing down like a satellite falling out of orbit, and the only thing tobio really wanted then was to heal from a heart full of broken glass.

at nineteen, he joins the national team. at nineteen, he plays at the olympics in brazil. at nineteen, kageyama tobio has everything he ever could have wanted, has everything he ever did want, once, but -

there are pieces of him missing, tobio thinks, a piece inside every single person who had taught him what it meant to love something so deeply it settles in your bones. there is a piece of him inside every single person who gave him a hand up out of the dark and pulled him onto steady ground. there are pieces of him that his new teammates will never know, will never understand, will never be able to put together and get the whole picture of who kageyama tobio is and why he seems so lonely when he is not alone, because kageyama tobio may be older and wiser and will not break so easily the way he did at the fragile age of fifteen, but there is NOTHING that can ease the ache of wanting the people he called home

[oglegoggle]

Idiot ex expected literally everyone around him to bend over backwards to do everything for him because he’s got ADHD and therefore isn’t capable of doing household chores or not breaking my belongings or responsibly managing his finances. He would throw up ADHD as a get out of jail free card literally every single time his behavior hurt me and I just had to accept it. Outright told me one time that trying to teach him how to do chores properly without breaking shit was triggering for him. But then was upset to see me call him an idiot and a coward in the notes on a post I reblogged about how shitty ADHD folks who use their ADHD as reason to never face consequences for their inconsiderate and selfish behavior.

Like yeah ADHD sucks and it requires a lot of difficult managing. But legit if you’re gonna say that it’s “triggering” to be expected to put away dishes without breaking them or take the used kitty litter to the dumpster outside every single day you’re just a pathetic self absorbed piece of shit. ADHD or not behavior like this has consequences and sometimes those consequences are the people you’re living with think you’re a selfish moron they don’t want to live with.

Your RSD is correct here dude, acting like this will make people drop you from their lives. You’re in your 30s and can’t do basic household chores. I had to walk on eggshells literally constantly with him because expressing even the tiniest amount of being upset with him would trigger a full blown self loathing meltdown and then he would be upset at me for hurting his feefees. He’s got ADHD, he’s got RSD, he’s got bipolar, it’s oooobviously my fault for triggering him and I need to calm him down and coddle him and reassure him that I’m not going to leave just because he hurt me repeatedly and did nothing to make up for hurting me or stop that behavior that was hurting me. He’s not capable of doing better and it makes him feel insecure that I deserve better treatment he’s not capable of giving me. I better reassure him that I’m okay with his shitty treatment of me or else he’ll fuckin kill himself. No he doesn’t want to go to couples counseling, that would be a waste of time and money.

Wow I’m such a shitty partner for not getting rid of all the glassware in my home so he won’t break it constantly. Wow I’m such a shitty partner I didn’t remind him to maintain his friendships outside of our relationship, obviously not telling him to remember to talk to and spend time with his friends is the same as somehow forbidding him from seeing them. Wow I’m such a shitty partner I don’t want to cook literal goddamn chicken rice & veg meals for his fucking dog and foot the bill for it, just like I was paying all of the other household bills as well as our entire shared food budget and cooking our meals every day because he would break shit and set fires if I didn’t. Wow I’m such a shitty partner for expecting him to actually pay the landlord his portion of the rent. Wow I’m such a shitty partner for smoking so much of his weed. Wow I’m such a shitty partner I won’t allow his awful cat in my home again after it slashed my fucking eyeball and put me in the ER. Wow I’m such a shitty partner for being constantly made sick by the filth and squalor he created faster than I could clean up without help. Wow I’m such a shitty partner for expecting to be helped with the cleaning. Wow I’m such a shitty partner for not accommodating his ADHD and letting him treat me like garbage without consequence. Wow I’m such a shitty partner for having needs and boundaries. Wow I’m such a shitty partner for not tolerating his abuse forever.

It was abuse.

He abused me.

Having ADHD does not make your behavior not abusive. ADHD does not absolve you of being an abuser. There are plenty of ADHD folks in this world that have actual honor and dignity about themselves. Don’t act like ADHD is a free excuse to abuse others. That’s not RSD talking that’s your conscience, listen to it. Treat those who care about you with genuine respect and they won’t reject you.

[motomamita]

fugitive!könig × naive!farmer!reader

warnings: smut, +18, no condom, innocence kink, breeding kink, baby trapping, virginity loss, female reader, dub-con!!

fugitive!könig who managed to escape the law, after committing several crimes, and now travels throughout the country hiding his identity.

On one of his many trips he ends up arriving at a small town, almost lost in time, where its few inhabitants live off their animal farms and orchards. Apparently no one had televisions, and the few radios only broadcast music that was overshadowed by static. This ensured that no one there would be able to recognize him and gave him the opportunity to stay and rest for a few hours.

Tired of walking and extremely hungry, König sat down in a small cafe to have a drink. The people around him looked at him strangely, not only because they didn't know him but also because of his intimidating appearance. His back was broad, he had long legs, and the muscles in his arms were noticeable even though he was wearing a wind jacket that covered him. However, no one seemed to be bothered by his presence, the people there loved tourists and König seemed completely like one.

When it was time to pay, he noticed that he had ordered and consumed more than he could afford. He was about to offer some of his "camping" knives in exchange for the money he was missing until a figure approached him.

"Don't worry if you don't have the money to pay." you spoke with a sweet voice and doing everything possible so that Konig would not feel embarrassed. "I sell the fruits to the owner of the place so I'm sure I can reach an agreement with him."

König was fascinated by you. Not only because of your timely friendliness but also your very natural and almost unique appearance that was very difficult to find in other places. You were wearing a jean gardener, some comfortable shoes and you were carrying a basket that minutes ago was full of fruits and vegetables from your garden. König looked down, somewhat shy and not knowing how to react to you, the truth is that during his escape he had not met many friendly people.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to ask you for anything in return." You smiled when you saw that no words came out of his mouth. "Here we greatly appreciate tourists and travelers, after all they are the ones who keep this small town from turning into a ghost town."

You invited König to take refuge in your small house for as long as he needed before leaving again for another place. König accepted, surprised at your remarkable naivety in letting a complete stranger into your house and providing him with all the care.

When he arrived, you showed him where the shower was and what his room would be where he could rest. You left a clean change of clothes on his bed and selflessly went off to make dinner. Once he cleaned, König followed the delicious smell and came to the kitchen where you were on your back stirring a large pot of what seemed to be a stew. You were so focused that you didn't notice the presence of the big man behind you. he thought about how easy it would be to cut your neck with one of those long knives you had there. But the idea quickly disappeared when you turned around and a wide smile formed on your face when you saw him.

That stew was the best he had tasted in a long time, so much so that he served himself 3 plates, leaving you totally pleased. The next morning, König didn't really know exactly what to do. He could stay one more night and wake up in the middle of the night to raid your entire home, even leave after having a trip with you. He was hesitant, and that hesitation turned into doubt when you offered to cut his hair and trim his long beard, which he accepted.

That same afternoon König sat down to drink a lemonade made by you while he watched you harvest super large, red strawberries from a distance. He fixed his gaze on the way your pants hugged your butt in a tempting way and how you hummed a melody quietly that he couldn't make out. A tingling appeared in König's tummy and he suddenly noticed an erection growing inside his pants. You looked so pretty, so innocent. It was obvious from afar that you didn't kill a fly and that your care for him was sincere.

The days passed and König seemed to have no intention of leaving, that didn't bother you at all. Now he helped you with the heavy work on the farm, carrying large amounts of hay on his shoulder and feeding the animals. His favorite activity was watching you milk the cows, fantasizing about your hands and the way the milk dripped from them.

His approaches to you intensified, taking advantage of the slightest opportunity to touch you or rub against you. he soon discovered that you had no idea about any sexual activity, acting confused at his double meaning words and insinuations. You were the perfect muse to fulfill all his fantasies without anyone being able to stop him.

Your parents had died a long time ago, leaving you alone in charge of the big farm and all the obligations of the adult world. That led König to think that life on that farm couldn't be bad. He knew how to handle hard work well and you did everything you could to teach him and please him. The idea of ​​starting from scratch, with you there, totally convinced him.

You were a healthy, hard-working woman and you needed someone like konig with you. But König needed to have something that would force you to keep him there with you, forever and that would confirm the mutual love that you both had to give each other. That's when he found the solution: he had to get you pregnant.

That afternoon he made a point that you wouldn't leave the stable until you were full of his cum. He started by complimenting your dress and how pretty that color looked on you. Then the caresses that increased in intensity until he managed to let you be carried away by him and his carnal desire. Now he had you under him, with your skirt up and your underwear hanging from one of your feet. Out of desperation, König only lowered his pants to his heels, even with his work boots on. You were on a large pile of hay, sweating from the great summer heat and moaning loudly.

His thrusts were brutal, making their way inside you that you barely had time to understand everything that was happening. The pleasure was so much that you could barely think about anything other than König's gaze and the way his balls slapped your ass.

"Oh, baby. You're so so tight.. And wet, shit" König groaned, sighing loudly at the pleasure your pussy was giving him. "Tell me, how did a cute little thing like you stay a virgin for so long, huh?" You opened your mouth to answer but only moans came out. "Uh? Talk to me, sweetheart, talk to me.."

"I.. I don't know.." you managed to say, overstimulated by everything. König's rough shirt rubbed against your clit, giving both pleasure and pain. König was so big that he covered you with his entire body, leaving you with almost no place to breathe air other than his breath.

"Uh? Don't you know? These farm boys are idiots... They wouldn't know how to please a pretty thing like you..." König cut off his sentence to get even closer to you and kiss you, putting his tongue inside your mouth. You tried to keep up with him but that triggered the kiss to be even wetter and hotter for him.

"König.. Give me more, please!" He smiled as he heard the urgency in your broken voice. You looked so pretty like that, almost not understanding what was happening but still pleased and eager for him to give you even more.

He, ready to please you, grabbed your legs and raised them to your shoulder, adopting a new position. His thrusts continued, his fat cock forcing its way into your no longer so virgin pussy and the simple sound of your skin slapping together made your warm walls embrace him. Not really knowing what to do, you brought your hands to König's big, muscular shoulders, feeling a few scars on them.

"Oh, my pretty little thing.. I'm going to fill you inside and you're going to be the prettiest mom in this whole damn town.." You dug your nails into his shoulder and your gaze was filled with confusion. "You like it, huh? You're going to make me so happy, isn't that what you want?"

You hesitated for a few seconds, not sure what he meant but his cock rammed even deeper into you leaving you almost without any thought. Tears formed in your eyes from the pleasure and absolute adoration with which he looked at you.

"Come on, mommy.. Make me happy, carry my precious baby.."

In the same way that König had managed to get his way in prison, he had gotten his way with you. Now you both lived together as a couple on the farm, happy and with a baby on the way inside your fertile womb.

[mephisto-reporting]

Jealousy, Jealousy with Sylus

Plot: Reader becomes jealous of Sylus and MC's closeness, distancing herself and seeking comfort in another LI. Sylus notices her growing distance and takes action. Based on this request. Pairing: Sylus x Non MC reader Content Warning: Insecurities, injuries, mention of blood, jealousy, angst, hurt/comfort Note: Reader is not the MC of the game. I think I got quite carried away writing this because I am a sucker for angst.

The faint hum of the air condition echoed through the Onychinus base, its opulent, luxurious atmosphere doing little to distract from the knot twisting in your stomach. You stood across from Luke and Kieran, their crow masks tilted slightly as if to gauge your reaction.

"Boss isn't here today," Luke said casually, his hands tucked into his pockets. "He’s in Linkon, Boss man’s got other things to handle."

Kieran, his mask tilted slightly to the side, gave a confused grunt. "But I thought he was meeting with her...?"

Luke raised a brow, correcting him. "No, no, he was meeting with Miss Hunter."

Miss Hunter.

The words hit you like a sledgehammer, even though they shouldn’t have. You were a hunter too, an informant who had been feeding Sylus critical intel on the association’s movements for two years now. But she was different. Special.

Captain Jenna’s star pupil, with her rare Anhaunsen-class Resonance Evol, was someone Sylus had spent weeks trying to connect with, both literally and emotionally. You weren’t blind to the necessity of it; resonating with her was crucial for his goals, ones he hadn’t entirely shared with you but that you trusted him to pursue.

Trusted him. Loved him.

You forced a tight smile. "Thanks for the update. I'll let you two get back to it."

Luke and Kieran exchanged a glance, but you were already walking away, the echo of your boots swallowed by the hum of the base.

The ride back to Linkon was supposed to clear your mind. It didn’t.

The cool wind whipped against your face, but all it did was sting the tears pooling in your eyes. The road stretched endlessly ahead, yet the pressure in your chest only grew. Sylus hadn’t seen you in two months. Two months of unanswered calls and messages reduced to half-hearted responses when they came at all.

You understood why he was focused on her. She was crucial to his plans. She was everything you weren’t: poised, pretty, powerful, and, most importantly, someone he needed.

But understanding didn’t make it hurt any less.

The world blurred around you as your thoughts spiraled. You had always known your place in Sylus’ life. You were the informant, the quiet insider who helped him stay two steps ahead of the hunters. Somewhere along the way, though, you had fallen for him. For the man who wasn’t as cold and calculated as others believed. It had been two long years since you started working with Sylus. Two years filled with secrecy, lies, and hidden truths. But over those years, you'd found yourself tangled in emotions for him that you couldn’t shake. Sylus, with his cold authority, his dangerous smile, his complex nature… He was all you could think about. He wasn’t as dismissive as people thought. He had a way of looking at you when no one was watching—a fleeting softness that you cherished, even if you couldn’t be certain if it was real.

And now, it felt like you were losing him.

Your bike screeched to a halt near Meow’s Café. You hadn’t planned to stop, but the sight of the familiar storefront tugged at you. Perhaps a coffee and a moment to breathe would help.

The glass windows glinted under the midday sun, and your breath hitched as you looked inside.

Sylus was there. With her.

They sat at a small table, a deck of Kitty cards spread between them. He was leaning back, his smirk in full display as she laughed at something he said. It was the kind of laugh that reached her eyes, the kind of moment you had only ever dreamed of sharing with him.

You froze, your hands tightening on your helmet.

For a fleeting second, you wanted to march inside and demand answers. To ask him why he had time to play cards but couldn’t return your calls. To tell him how his absence had hollowed you out.

But you didn’t.

He looks so happy... you thought bitterly, swallowing the lump in your throat.

The truth gnawed at you. Every interaction, every ignored message, every unread notification on your phone—it was because of her. Because Sylus had more important things to do. She was the one who mattered now. She was the one who he had to resonate with, had to bond with, had to make fall for him.

And you? You were just a pawn, a tool—forgotten. And there you were. Alone. Watching through a window, the warmth of the cafe contrasting the cold, empty feeling in your stomach. He hadn’t even bothered to let you know he was back. He was with her. You couldn’t bear to watch any longer, but you couldn’t look away either. It felt like the world was spinning faster than you could catch up, and you were left stranded, dizzy, and abandoned.

Instead, you turned away, your chest tight and vision blurred. The world felt suffocating, the weight of your unspoken feelings dragging you down as you climbed back onto your bike.

It was for the best, right?

You couldn’t keep doing this. You couldn’t keep waiting for him, couldn’t keep fooling yourself that there was something real between you two. He was busy. He had her. And you.. well, you didn’t even know why you bothered anymore.

The ride back to your apartment was a blur of taillights and muffled engine noise. The city’s glow that usually brought you some sense of comfort felt glaring and alien tonight. By the time you made it inside, the suffocating silence of your small space was overwhelming.

For someone who prided herself on being strong and independent, you barely made it to your couch before the sobs overtook you. Hot, angry tears streamed down your face as you clutched a pillow to your chest, trying in vain to keep your cries muffled. It felt as though something within you had been ripped apart, leaving an aching, hollow void that throbbed with every thought of him.

You replayed the image of him at the café in your mind, over and over, as if some part of you wanted to punish yourself further. His smirk. Her laughter. The ease of their interaction. It contrasted so sharply with the heaviness that now weighed on your heart.

Every chime of your phone made you flinch, hope briefly sparking to life, only to be cruelly snuffed out when the screen lit up with messages from others—work updates, pointless notifications, or friends checking in. Nothing from him. Of course, there wouldn’t be.

You wiped at your face, your chest tightening as you scrolled through the last few conversations you’d had with Sylus. They were short, clipped responses. A "thanks" here, an "I’m busy" there. You’d convinced yourself for weeks that he wasn’t brushing you off, that his focus was just elsewhere. But deep down, you knew. You’d always known.

You weren’t as important to him as he was to you.

That realization settled over you like a heavy blanket, suffocating and final. And yet, you tried to convince yourself it was okay. He doesn’t owe me anything, you told yourself, though the thought only twisted the knife deeper. He’s free to choose who he spends his time with.

But it didn’t stop the tears.

The days that followed were a haze of exhaustion and numbness. You threw yourself into your work, spending long hours tracking and confronting wanderers. The physical exhaustion helped, even if just a little. At least when you were in the middle of a fight, the pain in your chest was drowned out by the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

Still, the nights were the worst. Alone in your apartment, the quiet crept in like a suffocating fog. You tried to distract yourself—reading, cleaning, even organizing old mission reports. Anything to keep your mind from drifting back to him. But it was impossible.

Each time you saw his name in your contacts, you hesitated. Your thumb hovered over the call button more times than you cared to admit, but the fear of hearing his indifferent voice stopped you every time. What would you even say? That you missed him? That you wanted to see him? That you’d fallen for him, even though you knew it would never be mutual?

No. You couldn’t do that to yourself.

You worked harder, pushed yourself further. Every wanderer you fought became a stand-in for your frustrations, your insecurities. You told yourself that if you could just stay busy enough, the ache would go away. But no matter how many missions you completed or how many late nights you spent staring at your phone, the weight in your chest never fully lifted.

By the end of the week, you were exhausted—physically and emotionally. But you were surviving. Barely. The bell above the door jingled softly as you pushed into the chocolatier’s shop, the rich scent of cocoa and vanilla wrapping around you like a warm embrace. The day had been grueling—hours of chasing leads, a narrow escape from a particularly aggressive wanderer, and not a single bite of food since morning. Your stomach growled in protest, a sharp reminder that you’d been running on fumes for too long.

Rows of meticulously crafted chocolates gleamed beneath the glass counter, their perfect swirls and shimmering finishes almost too beautiful to eat. Almost. You leaned forward slightly, scanning the display, your reflection ghosting over the pristine surface.

Dark chocolate truffles. Raspberry ganache. Caramel hazelnut clusters. The options were overwhelming, and your indecision felt heavier than it should’ve. Your chest still ached from the lingering emotions you’d been suppressing all week. The quiet joy of the shop felt alien, like stepping into a world you no longer belonged to.

Just pick something and go, you thought, your fingers tightening on the strap of your bag. But the choices seemed endless, each one whispering promises of sweetness you weren’t sure you deserved.

"If you’re struggling," a soft, measured voice spoke behind you, "the pistachio crème chocolate is an excellent choice."

Startled, you turned, your gaze falling on a man standing a few steps away. Tall and lean, he exuded an understated confidence that was both intimidating and captivating. Dark hair fell in against his forehead, and sharp hazel-green eyes, softened by gold flecks peered at you from behind thin-framed glasses. His white doctor’s coat was open, revealing a simple black shirt beneath, and he held a small paper bag in one hand.

You blinked, caught off guard by both his suggestion and his presence. "Oh, uh… thank you," you stammered, trying not to sound as flustered as you felt. "I’ll… I’ll try that."

The shopkeeper nodded and carefully packed your selection as you stole another glance at the stranger. There was an air of calm authority about him, a quiet assurance that made you feel oddly exposed, like he could see straight through you.

He waited patiently as the shopkeeper handed you your bag, but just as you were about to leave, his voice cut through the quiet again—this time, more direct. "Chocolates shouldn’t be your first meal of the day."

The statement was delivered without malice, his tone stoic and matter-of-fact, yet it hit like a stone to the chest. Your lips parted in shock, the question forming before you could stop it: How does he know? But before you could say anything, he was already moving toward the door. The bells jingled softly as it closed behind him, leaving you standing frozen in place. The stranger’s words lingered, intertwining with the rest of your messy emotions. Your fingers clenched the small bag of chocolates as you tried to process the brief encounter.

A soft gleam on the floor caught your attention, breaking your spiraling thoughts. A wallet, its sleek leather worn but well-kept, lay just inches from where the man had stood. You knelt and picked it up, your heart thudding as you opened it to check for identification.

The name embossed on his hospital ID was like a jolt: Dr. Zayne. Your eyes widened. Doctor Zayne? The name was familiar—a renowned surgeon whose skills and precision were legendary, often described as a miracle worker. You’d imagined someone older, more weathered, not… this.

For a moment, you stared at the ID, piecing together the puzzle of the composed, enigmatic man who had called you out so effortlessly. You tried the number listed on a card tucked into his wallet, but it rang unanswered, the sterile monotone only adding to your frustration.

"Of course, he wouldn’t answer," you muttered under your breath, chewing your lip as you debated your next move. The idea of keeping his wallet overnight felt wrong, and leaving it here in the shop seemed equally careless.

That left one option.

The hospital loomed ahead as you approached, its towering structure illuminated against the evening sky. Anxiety gnawed at your insides, twisting with every step you took through the sterile white halls. You weren’t sure why you felt so on edge—maybe it was the overwhelming sense of inadequacy that had been haunting you lately, or maybe it was the lingering impression of Zayne’s knowing gaze.

At the reception desk, you hesitated, gripping the wallet tightly as you cleared your throat. "Hi, um, I’m here to return something for Dr. Zayne. He… accidentally dropped this."

The receptionist barely looked up, taking the wallet with a polite but indifferent smile. "Dr. Zayne isn’t in right now. I’ll make sure he gets this when he’s back."

"Oh," You nodded, murmuring a quick thanks before retreating back toward the exit. You thought nothing of this interaction as you left. You did what you thought was right and left the hospital back towards your apartment.

The days blurred together in a haze of work and routine. You buried yourself in assignments from the Hunter’s Association, throwing yourself into dangerous missions with a single-minded intensity. Anything to keep your mind occupied.

Sylus messaged you once during that time, his tone professional as he asked for updates regarding a lead he was tracking. You’d responded quickly, sticking strictly to business. No pleasantries, no banter—just the information he needed. He didn’t press, didn’t call you out for your uncharacteristic coldness. Maybe he didn’t notice. Or maybe he did and chose not to say anything.

That night, you jogged through the dimly lit streets, your breath fogging in the cool air as you tried to exorcise the restless energy gnawing at you. The rhythmic slap of your sneakers against the pavement was grounding, steady. Jogging had always been your go-to, a way to clear your head and silence the endless stream of "what-ifs" and "if-onlys" that plagued your mind.

You shook your head, annoyed at yourself. There was no point in dwelling. Sylus wasn’t the kind of person to give you what you wanted, and even if he did, could you trust it? Could you trust him?

But no amount of movement could completely shake Sylus from your thoughts.

His voice, his presence—it clung to you, even now.

Why didn’t he ask how I’ve been? Why didn’t I?

The sound of skidding tires yanked you out of your spiraling thoughts.

“Look out!”

Before you could process the warning, a cyclist veered wildly toward you, their momentum too strong to stop. There wasn’t even time to brace yourself. The impact hit like a freight train, and suddenly, you were on the ground, tangled with the bike and its rider. Pain blossomed sharp and hot in your knees as the asphalt scraped them raw.

For a moment, you just lay there, stunned. The world tilted unsteadily, the city lights smearing together like a watercolor painting.

“Hey, you okay?” The cyclist’s voice snapped you back. They were scrambling off you, helmet slightly askew but otherwise unscathed. You shook your head to clear it, wincing as you sat up. You pushed yourself up, shaking the dizziness from your head, and checked on the cyclist who had crashed into you. They were already scrambling to their feet, looking slightly dazed but otherwise unharmed, their helmet and guards having done their job.

“I’m fine,” you managed, even as your knees throbbed in protest. “Are you?”

“Yeah, thanks to the gear,” they said, pulling off their helmet to inspect a small crack along its surface. “Guess it did its job.”

Relief washed over you. “Good. Let me just—”

“Wait.” A different voice cut in, firm but calm. You stood there, still trying to regain your bearings when a figure appeared beside you, moving with a grace that immediately caught your attention. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw who it was. Dr. Zayne. The same man who had crossed your path in the chocolatier's shop just days ago. His sharp eyes locked onto yours, and for a split second, everything else seemed to vanish. His expression shifted from mild surprise to something more concerned as he took in your state.

Without saying a word, he immediately began assessing you, his gaze narrowing at the blood now staining your knees. You winced, feeling the sting of the cuts that had begun to bloom with a fiery intensity, but you were determined not to show it. You were used to pain—used to the sharp discomfort that came with being a hunter. You didn’t need help. You could handle this on your own. You’d always been able to.

But Dr. Zayne wasn’t having any of it.

His voice, low and steady, broke through the haze of your thoughts. "You’re bleeding. Those need first aid," he said firmly, his frown deepening as he glanced at your scraped knees. "Sit. Wait here. I’ll be back in a minute."

You opened your mouth to protest, to tell him you were fine, but the words caught in your throat. He wasn’t asking. His tone, though gentle, was authoritative—demanding in its own quiet way. There was something about the way he carried himself, that calm, unflinching presence, that made it impossible to argue.

"I’m fine, I am a hunter." you managed to say, your voice rougher than you intended. "I can handle it at home. Really." You tried to force a reassuring smile

“Is this a hunter thing?” he interrupted, one brow arching skeptically. “Are all of you this stubborn about basic care, or is it just you?”

The words should have been biting, but his tone was almost... patient. Like he was accustomed to dealing with difficult people.

You flushed, suddenly hyper-aware of the sting in your knees and the heat of his gaze. “I’m not being stubborn,” you muttered. “I just don’t want to bother anyone over something so small.”

“Small injuries have a way of turning into bigger problems,” he said, folding his arms. “And I’m not bothered. As a doctor, I’m asking you to wait here. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Without waiting for your protest, he turned and strode off, leaving you no room to argue.

You sat stiffly on the bench, gripping the edge as the minutes dragged on. The ache in your knees was nothing compared to the gnawing discomfort blooming in your chest. Anxiety clawed at you, whispering insidious doubts.

He’s wasting his time on you.He probably thinks you’re pathetic and weak.Why couldn’t you have just gotten up and left?

Your fingers curled into fists, the tension radiating through your body.

The sound of footsteps interrupted your spiraling thoughts, and Dr. Zayne was back, carrying a small first aid kit. He knelt in front of you without a word, his hands steady as he cleaned the cuts on your knees. The gentle pressure of his fingers as he worked felt almost surreal. His silence wasn’t uncomfortable—it was just… calm. You found yourself drawn to it, to the quiet that seemed to settle around him.

"You’re lucky," he said, glancing up at you as he bandaged your knees. "That could’ve been a lot worse."

You nodded, the words caught in your throat. There were so many things you wanted to say, things you wanted to ask him, but you didn’t know where to start. So you remained silent, watching as he finished his work, his hands moving with the practiced precision of someone who had seen too many injuries to count.

When he was done, he straightened up and met your gaze. "You should be more careful," he said softly, his voice a little lighter than before, though there was still a note of concern underlying his words. "Next time, don’t run so late at night. You never know what could happen."

You forced a tight smile, the words feeling like they were coming from someone else. "I’ll keep that in mind," you said, your voice quieter now.

Dr. Zayne took a step back after finishing the bandages, his sharp gaze softening ever so slightly as he packed the first aid kit. You glanced at him, your mouth opening to thank him, but before you could get the words out, he said, almost in unison, “Thank you.”

Both of you froze, the simultaneous expressions of gratitude hanging awkwardly in the air. A surprised laugh slipped out of you, breaking the tension.

“You first,” he said, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You swallowed, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck. “I was just going to say thank you for… you know, helping with this.” You gestured vaguely toward your knees, the bandages clinging to your skin. “You didn’t have to.”

The moment stretched between you, awkward yet somehow comforting. Zayne gave a small, almost amused smile at the simultaneous gratitude, but his gaze softened when it landed on you, his concern still present.

"Thank you for returning my wallet," he said, his tone steady but with a hint of appreciation.

His words caught you off guard. “Oh, right! That. It wasn’t a big deal, really.” You fidgeted with the hem of your sleeve, avoiding his gaze. “I found it at the chocolatier shop. I figured it was better to bring it to the hospital than leave it lying around.”

He nodded thoughtfully, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. “I appreciate it. Not many people would go out of their way like that.”

You tried not to let his kindness throw you off, but it wasn’t easy. There was something about Zayne that made you feel... small in a way you didn’t like to feel. He was kind, yes, but that kindness made you wonder if you were deserving of it. Why should you be the one he cared about?

But before you could dwell on that any further, his voice cut through your swirling thoughts.

"Have you eaten today?" His tone was light, but there was an edge of sincerity beneath it, one that made your stomach twist in a way that had nothing to do with hunger. It reminded you of that conversation in the shop, of how he had so effortlessly read through your tiredness.

The sheepish look that crossed your face must’ve been obvious, because Zayne sighed, the sound so deep that it almost felt like a reprimand. He pinched the bridge of his nose in a gesture that was both familiar and surprisingly endearing.

“You’ve got to take care of yourself,” he said, his voice almost too gentle for the weight of his words. “It’s not healthy to go without food, especially if you’re going to keep running around like you hunters do.”

You opened your mouth to protest, to tell him it wasn’t a big deal, but Zayne didn’t give you the chance.

"There’s a diner close by. It’s the least I can do to thank you for returning my wallet."

You shook your head instinctively, trying to backpedal. "It’s really not necessary," you said, but Zayne wasn’t having any of it. His eyes were firm, and there was an undeniable warmth behind them that almost made you feel guilty for refusing.

"Yes, it is," he replied, his tone steady but with a hint of finality. "Now, come on.”

You hesitated for a moment, the unease building in your chest like a brick wall, but the thought of Zayne’s calm, commanding presence made it impossible to say no. So, with a quiet sigh, you relented.

"I’ll pay," you muttered as he led the way, the words almost reflexive. You always felt like you had to pay your way—like it was your responsibility to do so, especially with someone who had helped you, even in the smallest of ways. You were used to standing on your own two feet.

Zayne only gave you a side glance, his lips quirking up in the barest of smiles. "No, you won’t. It’s my thank you, remember?"

The diner wasn’t far from where you had been, a cozy, low-lit place with a soft hum of quiet conversations and the clink of silverware against plates. The familiar scent of warm food—steak, mashed potatoes, and the unmistakable aroma of fresh bread—immediately filled the air as you stepped inside. You followed Zayne to a small booth in the back, the vinyl seats creaking under your weight as you slid in.

You wanted to say something—thank you, maybe—but the words felt stuck, trapped somewhere in the pit of your stomach, along with everything else that had been piling up for weeks. Zayne didn’t seem to notice, his focus already turning to the menu as he gestured for you to pick something.

You wanted to ask him more, to understand him in the same way you understood the empty streets you ran through, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d just end up looking foolish. So, instead, you stared at the menu in front of you, unable to focus on the choices, as your mind churned with questions that had no answers.

Zayne ordered for both of you, his voice low as he made his choices, and when he looked at you, you caught a flicker of something—perhaps curiosity, or was it concern? It was hard to tell.

"You should eat more regularly," he said again, as though the words were a reminder he had to repeat for his own peace of mind. You nodded, letting the silence fill the space between you for a moment.

The food arrived, warm and satisfying, and you took a bite, surprised at how hungry you were despite the earlier denials. Zayne watched you for a moment, his gaze softening as you ate, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet it. His concern, his care—it felt too much. You weren’t used to people worrying about you.

But as the meal went on, you found yourself starting to relax, the initial tension loosening from your shoulders. Zayne was easy to talk to, his calm, steady presence settling you in a way you hadn’t expected. By the end of the meal, you felt... lighter.

"Call me Zayne," he said when the check came, his voice quiet but sincere.

You blinked, a little caught off guard by the request. "Zayne?" you echoed, testing the name on your tongue.

"Yes," he replied with a small, patient smile. "It’s easier than 'Dr. Zayne,' don’t you think?"

You blinked, taken aback. “Are you sure? I mean, you’ve earned the title—”

“And I’ll still have it in the hospital,” he interrupted, amusement flickering in his eyes. “But here, it’s just Zayne.”

You nodded slowly, testing the name in your mind. It felt strange, almost too personal. But there was something grounding about it, too.

By the time dessert arrived, the knot of anxiety in your chest had loosened considerably. The warmth of the diner, the steady cadence of his voice, and the shared laughter over a poorly made joke had a way of pulling you out of your own head. For the first time in what felt like weeks, you weren’t obsessing over your failures or doubts.

As you finished your meal, Zayne pulled out his phone and slid it across the table. “Here,” he said simply. “Add your number. In case you ever need anything.”

You hesitated, the gesture feeling far more intimate than it probably was. But his expression was patient, expectant, and you found yourself entering your contact information before you could overthink it. When you handed the phone back, his lips twitched into a faint smile.

“Thanks again for returning my wallet,” he said, his tone lighter now. “And for the company.”

You felt your cheeks flush, but this time, it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. “It’s not a problem,” you murmured, a small smile tugging at your lips.

As you stepped out of the diner and into the cool night air, a strange sense of calm settled over you. Zayne walked you to the corner where your paths would diverge, his presence steady and reassuring.

“Take care of yourself,” he said, his voice softer now, almost intimate.

“You too,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

The diner’s warmth lingered even as you stepped into the cool night air. For the first time in what felt like weeks, your chest didn’t feel as tight, the oppressive weight that had been bearing down on you now lifting slightly. You still felt the ache of Sylus’ absence—a hollow, gnawing sensation that seemed to creep in whenever you let your guard down, but it wasn’t as suffocating as it had been. Instead, a new sensation fluttered in its place, tentative and fragile: excitement. It was strange to feel this way, to look forward to the possibility of a friendship formed under such unlikely circumstances. Zayne’s calm demeanor, his steady presence, had surprised you.

As you walked, the sound of fluttering wings caught your attention. Instinctively, your heart skipped, your mind jumping to Mephisto. You tilted your head to the dark sky, half-expecting to see the telltale silhouette of his familiar. But it was just a cluster of pigeons, their wings catching the faint glow of the streetlights as they soared away.

Right. Of course. It was unlikely that Sylus was watching you tonight.

You exhaled, a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, and forced your thoughts away from him. Zayne had offered you a rare moment of normalcy, and you weren’t about to let your memories of Sylus overshadow that.

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The following weeks were a blur of activity, and before long, you found yourself stationed at an outpost on the outskirts of Linkon. A metaflux surge had disrupted the area, and the temporary makeshift hospital was bustling with injured workers, hunters, and even a few civilians caught in the chaos. The air was thick with tension, the metallic tang of metaflux faint but persistent, a reminder of the unseen dangers that lurked just beyond the safety of the encampment.

Zayne was assigned as the doctor for the outpost, and you often found yourself crossing paths with him. At first, your interactions were brief—a nod here, a shared glance there—but over time, you began to talk. It started with simple pleasantries, discussions about the metaflux readings or the influx of patients, but it wasn’t long before the conversations deepened.

You learned that Zayne had a dry sense of humor, his sharp wit often catching you off guard. He’d tease you about your stubbornness, and you’d retort with a quip about his overly serious nature. Despite his professionalism, there was a warmth to him, a quiet compassion that made him easy to trust. And though you’d never admit it, you found yourself looking forward to those moments of shared laughter, those fleeting glimpses of something lighter amidst the chaos.

But even as your friendship with Zayne grew, Sylus lingered at the edges of your thoughts, a shadow you couldn’t quite shake. The conversations you had with him were sparse and strictly work-related—updates from the Association, bits of intel you passed along to him. It felt transactional, a far cry from the intimacy you once shared. Yet, every time his name appeared on your screen, your heart still raced, betraying the fragile boundaries you’d tried to set.

One evening, a message from Sylus broke the monotony of your routine.

‘Come over tomorrow night, Darling. I have an exquisite wine I’d like you to try—procured it during a recent deal.’

The invitation was simple, almost casual. For a moment, you imagined it—the rich scent of wine filling the air, his sharp yet alluring gaze fixed on you as he poured you a glass. But reality quickly crept in, dragging you back to the present. You couldn’t go. You couldn’t risk it. Not when your heart was still so fragile, still aching in ways you didn’t want to admit.

You stared at the screen for what felt like an eternity, your fingers hovering over the keyboard as your mind raced. The truth was, you wanted to see him. But you knew better. You had to keep your distance—for your own sake, if nothing else.

‘I’m tired..'

You typed, the words feeling hollow as they formed.

'Busy day tomorrow. Maybe another time.’

You hesitated before hitting send, the weight of the message pressing down on you. When his reply came, it was as simple as his invitation.

‘Okay.’

The finality of it hit you like a brick, and for a moment, you felt like your breath had been stolen away. He didn’t push. He didn’t argue. That empty “okay” hung in the air, leaving you with the quiet realization that, once again, you had lost yourself in the haze of someone else’s world.

You tried not to read too much into it, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he had already moved on. That he didn’t care enough to fight for your attention. Instead, it felt like you were just a passing thought, like an aftertaste that wasn’t worth savoring.

Miss Hunter. The words echoed in your mind. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing the tears to stay behind your eyelids, but they pressed hard, a sting that never seemed to fully fade. You rubbed your forehead, trying to push away the thoughts. But even as you did, you couldn’t escape the suffocating feeling in your chest—the one that always came when you were reminded of how little you meant to him. You felt foolish, but you couldn’t help it. It was like you were always waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to come back, to pull you back into his orbit with that practiced charm, that voice that made you feel wanted, if only for a little while.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

The dinner with Zayne had been a welcome reprieve. It had been two weeks since you last saw him, the demands of work pulling both of you in different directions. But tonight, seated across from him in a small, cozy bistro, you found solace in the familiar rhythm of your conversations. The mellow lights softened the sharp angles of his face as he recounted a mishap earlier in the week involving a particularly irritable patient.

His dry humor, paired with the subtle lift of his brow, drew a laugh from you—a genuine, light sound that felt foreign after the weight of recent days. For a while, the world outside blurred away. You weren’t Miss Hunter; you weren’t anything other than a person sharing a meal with a friend.

As the meal wound down, Zayne looked at you over the rim of his glass, his expression calm. “You’re doing better than when we first met.” he remarked softly.

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Am I?”

He nodded. His calm demeanor always had a way of grounding you, and tonight was no exception.

The meal wrapped up with the two of you trading small updates and light banter. You paid for your half of the meal, Zayne insisting it wasn’t necessary, but you’d insisted back. There was a sense of normalcy here, something you weren’t willing to let go of easily. When you parted ways outside the diner, the night air was cool and quiet. Zayne’s warm farewell echoed softly in your ears as you waved goodbye and headed back toward your apartment.

As you walked, you felt lighter somehow. The stress of the past few weeks hadn’t vanished, but Zayne’s steady presence had reminded you of something important—moments of peace still existed, even in the chaos.

The faint scent of lavender greeted you as you unlocked your apartment door, a hint of the candle you’d left burning earlier. The lights were off, and the air felt too still—unnaturally so. Your heart skipped, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. A lump formed in your throat, panic curling its fingers around your chest.

You flicked the light switch, and the sudden brightness flooded the room, revealing the figure sitting on your couch. Sylus.

You froze. Your body stiffened, caught between fight or flight.

Your yelp of surprise filled the space, your pulse racing as you clutched the doorframe for support. “What—Sylus? What are you doing here?”

He was sitting on your couch, one arm draped casually along the backrest, his other hand resting on his knee. The dim light of the room softened the sharp edges of his face, but his expression was anything but gentle. His eyes, sharp and unyielding, tracked your every movement as if he were dissecting you with just a glance.

“How—what are you doing here?” you stammered, your voice shaky as your pulse raced.

Sylus didn’t respond right away. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, his gaze dragging over you slowly, deliberately. His silence was louder than any words he could have spoken, and it made your skin prickle.

“Darling,” he finally murmured, his voice low and smooth, laced with something you couldn’t quite name. “You look… exhausted.”

You blinked, still standing frozen by the door. His tone was soft, almost tender, but it was the way his jaw tightened, the way his fingers tapped against his knee, that betrayed his underlying tension.

“Y-yeah,” you stammered, your voice wavering as you took a cautious step forward. “It’s been a long day. What are you doing here?”

Sylus leaned back, the leather of the couch creaking faintly under his weight. “A long day,” he echoed, his lips curving into a faint smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Yet you had time for dinner.”

“I…” you faltered, scrambling for a response. “It was just…”

“Just dinner,” he interrupted smoothly, his tone unreadable. “With… someone else.”

The air felt thick, charged with a tension that made your skin prickle. You opened your mouth to respond, but the words stuck in your throat. His eyes narrowed slightly, his expression still calm but his body language telling a different story. The way his fingers drummed against his knee, the slight clench of his jaw, the flicker of something dark in his gaze.

Your heart pounded, your thoughts racing. Why was he here? What did he want? And why did his presence—his very existence in your space—make your chest ache in that familiar, suffocating way?

“I didn’t think…” You stopped yourself, your voice trembling. “You didn’t say you’d be coming by. You can’t just—”

“Can’t just what?” he asked, his voice dangerously soft as he rose from the couch, his movements fluid and deliberate. “Show up to see what’s wrong?”

Your breath hitched as he closed the distance between you, his height and presence suddenly overwhelming. “Nothing’s wrong…”you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Is that so?” he murmured, tilting his head slightly, his eyes boring into yours. “Because from where I’m standing, it seems like you’ve been avoiding me, Darling.”

The accusation hung in the air, sharp and unyielding.

“I’ve been busy…” you said weakly, your voice lacking conviction.

“Busy,” he repeated, his gaze flicking over you again, this time with something close to disdain. “Too busy for me, but not too busy for… him.”

Your hands fidgeted at your sides, your breath coming in shallow bursts. You wanted to move, to put distance between you, but your legs felt rooted to the spot. “I didn’t think dinner with a friend would..”

“Friend?” he interrupted, the single word slicing through your sentence. His lips curved into something that might have been a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

Your heart pounded painfully against your ribs, the anxiety swirling in your chest mixing with something else—something raw and painful that you didn’t want to name. The memories of your last exchange with Sylus came flooding back—the curt messages, the unspoken finality of his “okay.” You had tried to convince yourself that it didn’t matter, that you didn’t need his validation. But standing here now, under the weight of his gaze, you felt every crack in the fragile walls you had built to keep him out.

“I don’t understand what you want from me,” you said finally, the words trembling as they left your lips.

His eyes softened slightly, but the tension in his posture didn’t ease. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to say something, something important, but the moment passed as quickly as it came. Instead, he reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek in a gesture so gentle it felt almost foreign.

“Don’t make me feel like I’m a stranger to you.” he said quietly, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability that made your chest ache.

Don’t make me feel like I’m a stranger to you. The words echoed in your mind, repeating, twisting, until all you could hear was the raw edge of betrayal laced in his tone.

You let out a bitter laugh, the sound sharp and bitter, a little too loud in the quiet of your apartment. Your chest tightened, and for a moment, you felt the space around you grow smaller. You couldn’t breathe—couldn’t think. All you could feel was the heat of anger building inside of you, raw and unrefined.

“That’s rich,” you scoffed, finally managing to find your voice. “That’s really rich, coming from you of all people.”

Sylus blinked, a subtle flash of surprise crossing his face, but it quickly masked over. His lips tightened, his brow furrowed ever so slightly, but it wasn’t enough. You had to push, you couldn’t hold back now. The words were tumbling out before you could even stop them. Your breath hitched, a strangled sob lodged somewhere in the back of your throat, but you refused to let it spill. You wouldn’t let him see you break—not like this, not in front of him. You knew the truth. He knew the truth. It hurt, yes, but you weren’t the one to blame.

“You've been treating me like a stranger for months,” you continued, your voice trembling with anger you hadn't fully realized was there. “Barely responding to my messages, not answering my calls, and when I do see you, it’s like you can’t be bothered. You don’t even see me.” You felt the weight of every unreturned message, every unanswered call, every promise left in limbo. “I’ve had to hear from Luke and Kieran that you’re in Linkon. But you couldn’t even make time to see me.”

You felt the ache deep in your chest, that familiar, suffocating knot forming. He didn’t deserve your pain. Not anymore. You wouldn’t let him have that. Not this time.

You took a shaky breath, suddenly feeling raw, exposed. “You don’t have to feel obligated to check on me, Sylus,” you said, your words clipped and cutting through the thick silence between you. “You don’t have to feel pity for me. I know where I stand. I know my place in your life.”

His expression, that unreadable mask, cracked for the briefest of moments. His lips parted, his gaze flicking to your face, then back down to the floor. His jaw clenched. But his eyes… They weren’t the same as they’d been earlier. The hardness was gone, replaced by something far more dangerous, something even more intimate. The storm was gathering, but it wasn’t just in the air—no, it was inside him too.

“You know where you stand?” His voice was quieter now, but there was an edge to it, a slight tightness you hadn’t noticed before. He took a step forward, his body closing the space between you, like a wave of raw energy crashing toward you. His proximity only made your pulse race faster, but you couldn’t back down. Not now.

“I’m just an informant, right?” you bit out, every word feeling like it sliced through the night air, cutting through the tension like a blade. “You don’t have to pretend you care, Sylus. So don’t stand there with that look on your face like I’m some important thing you need to check on.”

The air between you grew heavy, thick with unsaid words and stifled tension. Every inch of your body was telling you to get away, to shut down, to stop this before it tore you apart. But your feet felt heavy, stuck in place. Sylus’s presence was like gravity, pulling you toward him.

"You think that's all you are?" he murmured, his voice dangerously low, like the calm before the thunder. The way he said it made your heart stutter in your chest. It was both a question and an accusation or a challenge.

But there was something else in his voice. Something you couldn’t quite place. His eyes were intense, too intense, and they searched yours like he was looking for the answer. The truth.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” he continued, his words clipped, as though they were difficult for him to say. “But I couldn’t....couldn’t make sense of it. Of you.”

It was the first time that he seemed genuinely vulnerable, and it left you breathless and confused. You had always wondered if there was more beneath his cold exterior. You had always told yourself that he cared. But you had never dared to confront him.

His hand was close enough now to reach out, his fingers barely brushing the edge of your wrist. The air between you was still thick with everything unsaid, everything unhealed. And yet, despite the words that had been thrown between you, there was something undeniably magnetic in the tension. The ache in your chest, the rawness, the feelings of betrayal—they didn’t wash away just because you said them out loud.

God, you hated him for this.

But part of you yearned for him. That part that still felt tethered to him, despite the distance.

Sylus’s fingers hovered over your wrist, his touch like fire against your skin. For a moment, the storm between you calmed, leaving only the faintest echo of it behind. The weight of his gaze, the force of his presence—it seemed to drown out the rest of the world.

He said nothing for a moment, his lips parting as though he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words. His eyes darkened further, not with anger now, but with something you couldn’t quite define.

You took a breath, your body suddenly feeling too small beneath his gaze. The storm was still inside. You had to move away. Your heart pounded as if it were trying to escape your chest, desperate to flee from whatever was stirring inside you. You couldn't—no, you wouldn’t—let yourself get caught up in whatever this feeling was. You were not some fool, ready to throw everything away for the temporary pull of his presence. You knew better than that. You had to.

Every instinct screamed at you to retreat, to put some distance between you and the mess of emotions bubbling under your skin. His sharp gaze was enough to make your knees tremble, and it took everything in you not to look back, not to let him see the quiet devastation that flickered inside you.

“You need to leave… Sylus.” You whispered. You staggered back a few steps, your breathing shallow, desperate. Your feet felt like lead, yet you forced yourself to walk away. You turned your back to him, willing your legs to move, hoping to escape before you got sucked into whatever dark vortex of feelings he was drawing you into.

He didn’t move. Instead, you heard the familiar click of his boots against the floor as he took a single, deliberate step forward. “Why?” His voice, low and curious, sent a shiver down your spine. It was almost too intimate, as if he were searching for a piece of you, trying to understand what you couldn’t explain.

You didn’t want to look at him. Didn’t want to see the quiet confusion on his face—the faint flicker of disappointment that stung like salt in an open wound. You couldn’t let him see your weakness, couldn’t let him know how badly it hurt to be around him, how badly it hurt not to be around him.

“Is it so you can run back to your precious ‘friend’?” The words dripped with something unspoken, something that made your stomach twist.

You couldn’t look at him. You couldn’t. Not when his voice—that voice, the one that threaded through the air like silk—was digging into your mind like this. The word echoed in your ears, almost mocking you, and you felt something fragile snap inside you. The weight of the years you’d spent keeping distance, of guarding your heart against him, against whatever he made you feel, started to unravel. But you couldn’t let it.

You took another step away from him. One more step, you told yourself. Just one more. You didn’t need this.

Dark tendrils wrapped around you as you move, pulling you back. He was using his evol to pull you back. You didn’t need him pulling you in again. But then it came. That touch. He pulled you to him, forceful yet intimate, and your breath caught in your throat. You were too close. Too close to the edge of losing yourself, of falling into his presence.

His hands...no, his fingers—snaked around your waist before you even knew what was happening. You gasped, body going stiff in surprise, but his grip tightened, pulling you back into him. You tried to keep moving, tried to pull away, but it was useless. His hold was ironclad, his presence consuming. His grip tightened slightly, but there was an almost comforting pressure there, a subtle reminder that despite the dispute between you, there was something undeniable between the two of you.

“Why are you running?” His voice was a whisper against your ear, the words smooth like silk, but there was something jagged beneath them—something urgent, raw.

You struggled to hold yourself together, but the more you fought it, the more it pulled—this unbearable need to lean into him, to give in to the chaos that his proximity stirred in you. You knew you shouldn’t, but everything in you wanted to. You felt the ache of wanting something you couldn't have, the sting of the distance you had put between you and the thing that was somehow both poison and relief.

His hands tightened slightly, his thumb brushing over your ribs in a movement that sent a jolt through your entire system. The words you wanted to say, the reasons you needed to get away from him, all felt so small and pointless now. How could you possibly explain this? This tension, this pull? How could you say that being near him felt like the most excruciating thing in the world, but also the only thing that made you feel alive?

“You’re not just an informant to me,” he breathed, his words slipping under your skin, curling into the tight spaces of your chest. “I didn’t realize I was hurting you this much. That you’d want to distance yourself from me...” His tone softened at the end, but it only made everything worse. The tenderness in his voice—his tenderness—was like a dagger in your side, making the blood in your veins freeze. You wanted to say something, anything, but all you could hear was the deafening rush of your own heartbeat. You tried to stay composed, but the words were caught in your throat, and your body was still pressed so tightly against his, your breath shallow, your pulse thudding painfully against your ribs.

Why was this so hard? Why couldn’t you just say it—say that you couldn’t let him get close again? That you couldn’t survive another wound, another aching, empty feeling in your chest because of him? But the way his hands tightened, the warmth of his body against yours, made everything you were feeling a little too real.

You could feel his heartbeat against your back, the rhythm in sync with your own, and the pull of him was growing stronger. You could feel your anxiety bubbling up, the gnawing fear at the pit of your stomach. Was this just him toying with you? Was he trying to pull you into his world of darkness and manipulation? Or did he really care?

Your head was spinning. The emotions warred within you—anger, confusion, guilt, and something else. Something that made your heart race faster and your thoughts scatter like leaves in the wind.

“Let me go,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the storm that raged around you.

But you didn’t pull away. You didn’t push him off.

Sylus' grip on you tightened, his arm like a steel band around your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. His chest rises and falls against your back as his breath brushes against your ear, warm and heavy. It’s as if he’s afraid, like if he lets go for even a second, he’ll lose you forever. You can feel the tension radiating from him, but also something softer, something desperate.

“No, Darling,” he murmurs, his voice low and thick with emotion, his tone possessive, as though the very idea of you slipping away shatters him. “You’re not going anywhere and neither am I.”

"You’re going to stay," He pulls you even closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he speaks again, quieter this time, but laced with something raw and vulnerable. "...and you’re going to listen to me. I won’t let you walk away from this."

You can hear the flicker of something beneath his words—regret. And then, his lips ghost over the sensitive skin of your neck, lingering just a little longer than necessary. He slowly spins you around, to face him. His voice softens, almost apologetic. “I know I was a dick. I know I didn’t respond to you, and I’m sorry for that. I didn’t know how to handle it… handle us. It confused me, and instead of facing it, I pushed you away.” His breath catches slightly, and you feel his chest tighten against your back.

His hand moves to cup your cheek, tilting your face slightly toward him, his thumb brushing over your skin as though it’s a promise, an apology. The weight of his gaze is intense, but there’s also something tender there, something that wants to pull you back in, closer. “I know you’re still hurting, darling. I see it. And I... I’ll spend a lifetime making up for it, because that’s what I want. A lifetime. With you. Not as some informant or some... thing, but as my beloved. You. By my side. Always.”

He pauses, letting his words hang in the air between you. His voice drops, the quiet sorrow of his confession sending a twinge of guilt through you. "I don’t have the right to ask this of you, I know," Sylus continues, his voice thick with emotion. "But seeing you push me away… It’s harder than I ever thought it would be. Harder than I want to admit." He presses his forehead lightly against your temple, his breath shaky. "I’ve never needed someone the way I need you, and I didn’t know how to tell you that. But I do. I need you."

You can feel him tense slightly, the shift in his demeanor telling you that his thoughts have turned darker. His voice lowers, the jealousy evident in the way he speaks, though it’s wrapped in a softness that almost makes it harder to bear.

"And Dr. Zayne... I can’t stand the thought of him being so close to you," Sylus adds, his voice low and thick with a possessiveness that unsettles you in its intensity. "It kills me, you know? Watching him with you, hearing you laugh like that with him, as if I don’t even exist." His arm tightens again, almost painfully, as if he needs to remind you, remind both of you, where you truly belong. "I know I have no claim on you... but... I can't help but feel like there’s a part of you that wants him in a way that... I can't compete with." His voice hardens, jealousy dripping from every word. "It eats at me, knowing he has a part of you that I’m fighting for."

"Sylus..." Your voice cracked slightly as you repeated his name, your breath hitching, caught in the tension between you. His name felt heavy on your tongue, like it was both a question and an answer. You had never said it so quietly, so vulnerably. The memories of earlier came rushing back—him with her, that delicate smile he gave her, the way she leaned into him just a little too comfortably. It had burned in your chest, the jealousy creeping in with a venomous ache.

The words tumbled out before you could stop them, too fast to gather, too painful to hide. "I felt the same... when I saw you with her," you confessed, swallowing thickly. "I felt so... so useless, Sylus. When I saw you with her, it felt like... like she was everything you needed. Better than me. And that... it broke me, Sylus. I felt like I wasn’t enough, like I wasn’t... worth it.”

The words stung, bitter and unrelenting, but the weight of them was finally lifted as you let them spill out. You felt exposed, naked in your insecurity, but somehow, it was all you could do to stand there and wait for him to respond. You could feel the weight of it, of how small you’d felt in that moment, how unworthy you had become in your own eyes. The self-doubt gnawed at your insides, each thought of her with him twisting like a knife in your gut.

Sylus’s expression softened, his features melting into a tender sadness, as though he were seeing you for the first time, truly seeing you. His hand reached out slowly, almost hesitantly, as if afraid to shatter the fragile space between you. His touch was a gentle comfort, his fingers brushing against your cheek, his voice a low whisper, "Darling, you're none of that... none of it, I swear."

You shook your head, feeling the tears threatening, but you couldn’t let them fall, not yet. His words were kind, but the ache in your chest was still there, an unhealed wound.

He continued, his voice steady but thick with something deeper. "I didn’t know you felt that way... about her, in the same way I feel about Zayne." His gaze met yours, and for the first time tonight, it wasn’t uncertain. It was so gentle, so soft, tender. "But you need to know, you're it for me, Darling…" he murmured, his fingers curling around yours, grounding you in the quiet storm of your emotions. "Yes, I want help from her, but..." He paused, as if weighing his words carefully, "...I need you more." His words were a balm to the wounds that had festered within you, but the tenderness in his eyes was what finally reached you. His hand slid down to your shoulder, his thumb grazing the skin there. His warmth surrounded you, and you let yourself sink into the comfort of his words. The jealousy, the insecurity that had burned so fiercely in you when you saw him with her, melted in the face of the tenderness he was offering now.

You swallowed, trying to steady yourself as your heart raced, the intensity of the moment almost overwhelming. “Zayne… Zayne’s just a friend,” you said, your voice fragile but firm, “someone who helped me... helped me see past the stuff in my head. After everything, I just... needed someone to remind me that I’m not broken.”

Sylus's eyes softened even more, the depth of his gaze sending shivers down your spine. He nodded slowly, his expression filled with understanding. The tension between you didn’t disappear entirely, but it was now laced with something more tender. More real.

“You’re not broken, Darling.” he repeated, and there was a quiet strength in his voice, something that made you believe him more than you ever had before. “You’re everything I’ve ever needed... and more.”

"I... I’m sorry," you whispered, a lump in your throat as you looked up at him. "I never wanted to make you feel like I didn’t care. I just... I was afraid you’d choose her over me."

Sylus’s fingers brushed against the nape of your neck, pulling you closer, his forehead pressing gently against yours. "You never have to apologize for that, Darling." he murmured, his voice warm, his breath mingling with yours. “It was my fault and I accept that.”

The room was quiet, save for the soft sound of your breathing, as Sylus stood before you, his face drawn with intensity. The flickering light from the lamp cast soft shadows across his features, but his gaze... his gaze was sharp, focused entirely on you.

"I love you, Darling" he said, his words lingering in the air as though they were the first time he had allowed himself to say them out loud. "I’m in love with you," he confessed, his voice steady despite the raw emotion that tinged it. "I’ve been in love with you for a while now, and I’ve tried to deny it. Tried to hide it from you and myself, but I can’t anymore. I won’t. I love you, and I need you to know that."

The breath you hadn’t realized you were holding caught in your throat. Everything in you froze, then splintered. The confession, so pure, so vulnerable, hit you with a force you hadn’t been prepared for. You stood there, unable to move, a mix of surprise and relief flooding your chest.

He loves you. Sylus. The one you had longed for, yearned, and hoped for in silence. Your heart stuttered in your chest, the world around you growing impossibly still.

"I…" you whispered, voice trembling, and you had to stop, had to steady yourself before the words could spill from your lips. "I’ve love you too," you said, your voice barely more than a breath, but it carried all the weight of everything you had kept inside. "I’ve loved you, and I never told you because I was afraid. Afraid that I was asking too much. Afraid of the rejection. Afraid that I wasn’t enough."

Sylus’s expression softened, his lips curling into a frown as he stepped forward, closing the space between you. His hands reached for you, but not in the way you had feared or expected. They were gentle, his touch a plea for understanding. "Oh, darling," he whispered, shaking his head slowly. "I’m so sorry. I’m sorry you ever felt like you needed to hide it from me."

He reached up, brushing his thumb along your cheek, and you flinched slightly, your emotions suddenly overwhelming you, raw and untamed. "We’re both idiots," he continued, his voice almost tender with the weight of the admission. "We’ve been skirting around each other, afraid of saying the one thing we both needed to say."

Your laugh came out soft, almost fragile, the tension in your chest breaking for the first time since Sylus had walked into your home. It was a quiet sound, but it was the first time you’d laughed all night, the first time you’d allowed yourself to feel something other than fear or uncertainty in the past few weeks with him involved. But that laugh didn’t last long. As soon as it came, the tears followed, the ones you had been holding back for so long, finally slipping free. The dam you had built up crumbled, and before you could stop them, hot tears streamed down your face. before you could even reach up to brush them away, his hand was there, steady and warm against your cheek.

"Don’t," you whispered, your voice thick with the ache you could no longer hide. "Please, don’t look at me like this. I’m—"

"Stop," Sylus interrupted softly, his hand holding yours gently, his gaze unwavering. "Don’t hide from me. I want to see all of you… everything you’ve been hiding. I know you think I don’t see it, but I do." His eyes locked onto yours with such intensity that you couldn’t look away. "I see it when you think I’m not watching. I see the way you pull back, the way you hide the parts of you that you think I can’t handle. But I am looking. I’ve always been looking. And I don’t want you to hide anymore. Not from me. And I’m here and I want all of you."

His words were a medicine to the parts of you that had been bruised, the parts that had feared being exposed, vulnerable. But in his eyes, there was only love. No judgment. No pity. Just... love. And it was enough. It was more than enough.

The tears that had slipped down your face slowed, but they didn’t stop. You didn’t try to wipe them away this time, allowing yourself to be seen for the first time in ages. The sobs that followed were soft but trembled with relief, with something finally breaking open inside of you.

Sylus’s arms were around you in an instant, pulling you close, holding you in the kind of embrace that made you feel as though you could finally breathe, as though the weight of everything you had been carrying could finally be set down.

"I’m sorry," you whispered, almost broken. "I’ve been so scared, Sylus. Scared of this, of being cast away... of losing you."

"You’ll never lose me, Darling." he murmured, his voice firm and unwavering as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

You tilted your head back slightly, your face still damp with the remnants of the tears that had fallen, and through your wet lashes, you searched his face. Sylus held you close, his arms wrapped around you in a way that made you feel safe, even as the doubts lingered in your heart. You wanted to believe him, but the fear, the uncertainty, was still there, buried deep beneath the surface.

He must have seen it in your eyes, the way you still hesitated, the uncertainty you couldn't quite shake. Sylus made a half-frustrated sound in the back of his throat, his hands tightening around you for a split second, before they slid up to cradle your face. His thumb brushed against your cheek again, a tender, pleading touch, before he leaned in, his lips finding yours in a sudden, urgent kiss.

The kiss was unlike any other. It wasn’t slow, it wasn’t soft. It was intense, filled with desperation, as though he needed you to understand just how deeply he felt for you, just how much you meant to him. His hands cupped your face, holding you as if you were the only thing that mattered in that moment, as if the world had stopped turning just for you. His lips pressed against yours with a kind of fire, but it wasn’t angry, no. It was passionate, desperate in its own way, like he wanted you to feel how important you were to him, how much you had been wanted, loved.

Your hands trembled as they reached up, gripping the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer, wanting to bridge the distance between you, as though the kiss itself could erase every lingering doubt in your heart. Your breath hitched when you felt his pulse quicken under your touch, his heartbeat matching the frantic pace of your own. Each breath you took seemed to echo in the stillness of the room, mingling with the heat of his kiss, our lips moving together with a quiet urgency, the world beyond the two of you fading into a distant blur. You felt everything—every brush of his fingers, every subtle shift of his body against yours, the way his chest rose and fell beneath your palms, how his breath felt against your lips as if he couldn’t get close enough to you.

Your chests rose and fell together, the world spinning around you. You could feel the heat of him, the urgency that still lingered in his touch, the way he kept you close, almost as if he were afraid to let go.

Breathing became an afterthought, both of you gasping for air when the kiss broke, but neither of you pulled far enough away to lose the connection. Sylus’s forehead rested against yours, his breath hot against your lips as he whispered, voice still heavy with emotion. “Every day, from henceforth, I will work to make sure you never feel the need to doubt yourself. Not in my life. Not with me." His words, slow and deliberate, sank deep into your heart like a promise he would keep.

The intensity of the moment hung between you both, the room still, save for the soft sound of your breathing as you both slowly came back to reality. But in his eyes, you saw nothing but certainty—certainty that you were enough. That you always had been.

His hand found yours again, fingers weaving with yours, and he gave it a gentle squeeze, as if the simple touch was a quiet reassurance.

"You are everything to me," he murmured, his voice steady now, grounding you as much as his embrace. "And I’ll make sure you never forget that.”

Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, absorbing his words, his warmth, his certainty. In his arms, you could feel the truth of his promise, somewhere deep inside, the doubts began to fade.

For the first time in a long time, you believed him. And when he kissed you again, this time softer, it was like the beginning of something new.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

[sinner-as-saint]

here forever

Bucky Barnes x Reader 

Run-through: Dating a superhero was no joke. And as noble as Bucky’s job was, it was just as dangerous and unpredictable. Which is why ever since you and Bucky started dating, he’d been training you in his free time. Teaching you how to defend yourself if ever he wasn’t around to protect you, or if ever his enemies came after you. Although you weren’t perfect at combat yet, you were almost certain you could get out of a tricky situation if you ever found yourself in one. But you were soon proven wrong. And your only option was to hope and pray that Bucky finds you in time. 

Themes: smut, fluff, mentions of kidnapping and death, boyfriend!bucky to the rescue, slight angst, hurt/comfort, mean!dom!bucky, aftercare, biker!bucky (except i made him wear a helmet because safety), mild daddy kink (nicknames only)

a/n: short, quick lil fic because I know we’re all hungry

It had been two hours since these strange men had so easily abducted you off the streets. 

It was a regular day, you were leaving yoga class and were on your way to pick up a smoothie. A treat you always got yourself after each workout class. Nothing out of the ordinary. Except Bucky’s incessant messages asking about your location. 

You knew you weren’t supposed to let your guard down, not even on busy streets – one of the first lessons Bucky taught you just weeks after your first date with him. But you couldn’t help looking down and frowning at your phone. Your bag, purse and phone in your hands. Always have your hands free when walking alone, even on busy streets – the second thing he taught you. 

Always be ready. Always be ready. Always be fucking ready. 

But you had messed up that morning. Bucky’s messages were starting to worry you. He had been away since last night, and as usual, never gave you too many details about his job. But all you knew was that before he left, he’d asked you to try and not go out if you could. Your apartment was safe. He had eyes all over that building. Cameras, security guards, it was the safest place you could be. 

‘Where are you? Why aren’t you home?’

Seconds later: 

‘I told you not to go out. It’s not safe right now. Call me.’ 

Then some missed calls which you couldn’t answer because you were in class at the time. Then messages one after the other: 

‘Go straight home.’ 

‘Is your class over?’ 

‘Go home and wait for me. Don’t open the door for anyone else.’ 

‘Baby I’m so serious right now, go home.’ 

And you were midway through typing an answer to reply to him. To tell him not to worry. To tell him that yes your class was over, and everything was okay and you would call him as soon as you got home. 

But you never got the chance to reply to his messages. 

It all happened too fast. One moment you were looking down, all your focus on your phone and boyfriend, and the next, you were being grabbed and shoved into a dark truck. You barely even got a scream out before the doors were shut and a tape sealed your mouth, ropes snaking around your wrists and ankles. 

And just like that, in less than a full minute, you were taken. 

And here you were now. 

In the back of that same truck which had been driving for about two hours, maybe more. Getting further and further away from the city you lived in, and into more and more unknown areas. 

Fuck! You had messed up. 

You should’ve checked your phone while you were still inside the building. You shouldn’t have been texting on the streets. You shouldn’t have let your guard down. Bucky had been saying for weeks that he suspected people had eyes on him, and consequently you because you two spent a lot of time together. 

He was right of course. He always was. You should’ve listened. You should’ve stayed at home, at least until he got back later today. 

A tear slid down your face, like it had been for the past hours. You silently cried, thinking about all the potential circumstances you could end up finding yourself in. You couldn’t even tell who were the men who kidnapped you because they all wore masks and hadn’t said a single word in the past hours. 

They were armed. And the truck seemed bulletproof. And they kept driving. Nothing said about wanting a ransom, nothing about why they had taken you, or whether they were using you as bait to get Bucky’s attention. Surely they were. 

And a few minutes later, when you heard the familiar roar of a familiar bike, you knew they had his full attention. 

Bucky was here. 

But they hadn’t noticed yet. And you didn’t want them to. So you tried to get all their attention on you by wiggling in the backseat, acting like you were trying to get more comfortable. The two armed men right in front of you just glanced at you and your tied limbs and let you be. 

You noticed the guy in the passenger seat didn’t even bother looking at you. The driver looked into the rearview mirror but quickly looked away and ahead. 

They still hadn’t heard the faint, steady roar of Bucky’s bike. 

Perfect. 

By the time Bucky would get close enough to attack, he would catch them by surprise. And it would be too late for them to react and defend themselves. 

So you kept moving, grunting in annoyance extra loudly just to mask the sound of Bucky’s bike as it got closer and closer– 

A loud gunshot exploded near you. For a moment nothing made sense. 

Then you realised the truck was no longer steady, it was tilted on one side. Bucky had shot one or more of the tires. You sighed in relief, while the men in the vehicle panicked. Muffled voices spoke all at once, one of them telling the driver to drive faster. 

Another, one of the men who was armed in front of you, lowered the window and popped his head and gun out, trying to find whoever was around but it was too late. 

You turned your head and managed to catch a glimpse of him through the rear windshield. Amongst the smoke and dirt flying, there he was. Mounted on his mean bike like a fierce general riding his beast into battle. Except this general wasn’t backed by soldiers. He was alone. 

But army or not, he was still Bucky Barnes. All black bike, black helmet, full biker gear, metal arm catching the sunlight. Guns strapped to his body. He looked like Death. 

A sob shook your body as you ducked and hid under the seats as much as you could as Bucky rain down bullets like hellfire upon the vehicle. He knew it was bulletproof, but you were certain he was doing it just to get the men to use their weapons and waste their bullets on him as fast as possible. 

The loud noises made it seem like your brain was vibrating, your heart was racing, and your ears were hurting with how loud the guns and shouts were. But Bucky was here, and all would be well now. 

A few seconds later, the truck began zig-zagging. You assumed it must be because the driver got shot. More shouts and bullets later, the truck came to a sudden stop. Like it collided with something that was strong enough to stop it even at that speed. 

But there was nothing on the empty streets you had been on. Nothing except… Bucky. 

An eerie silence followed. Then footsteps. The men in the truck had all been shot you realised upon smelling the scent of blood and gunpowder. 

You couldn’t get yourself up, not with your limbs still tied but you tried your best. And you were barely up when you heard the sound of metal literally tearing apart. You managed to peek from the back seat and Bucky had torn off one of the doors. The entire door off the side of the truck. 

You couldn’t call for him, but you kicked the back of one of the seats hard enough to get his attention. 

The moment his ocean blue eyes met your teary ones, you couldn’t help but start crying. Hot, burning tears streaming down your face as Bucky almost tore apart the entire truck to get to you. The moment he grabbed you and pulled you out into the open air, it was only his arm around you keeping you up. 

“I’ve got you,” He whispered over and over again, “You’re safe. I’ve got you, baby. It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here.” He repeated continuously as he carefully peeled the tape off your lips and cupped your face in his hands, looking at you intently to look for injuries while he wiped your tears away. “Are you hurt?” He asked, looking more panicked and worried than ever. “Baby, answer me. Did they hurt you? Inject you with anything? Touch you?” 

You shook your head, wanting nothing more than to just be able to take a deep breath, now safe in his arms. Only when you went to wrap your shaky arms around him, he stopped you. Keeping you at arms’ length and away from him. 

That worried, soft look in his eyes turned cold. Even under the afternoon sun, you shivered under his gaze. 

“What the fuck did I tell you before I left, huh?” He snarled. “I told you to stay inside, don’t leave the building. Didn’t I say that?” 

You sniffled, nodding. “I just went to my weekly class, and–,” 

He cut you off, hissing, “And look what happened!” He was almost screaming in your face, “You’re so lucky I got here in time. You’re so fucking lucky I have a tracker in that bag of yours. Otherwise it would’ve taken me days to get to you! Days!” 

You trembled, knowing he was right. Bucky dealt with dangerous people. He knew why he asked you to be cautious. 

Bucky leaned closer to you, looking down at you with no warmth. “These aren’t the villains you read about in your silly, little fucking books.” His voice sounded menacing, freezing. “These are actual, dangerous people. They wouldn’t have waited for you to charm your way out. They would’ve killed you!” He yelled. 

“I’m sorry,” You sobbed. “I was replying to your texts and–,” 

“We had a deal, didn’t we?” He grabbed you by the chin and forced you to look at him. “That when I tell you it’s not safe out there, you stay put. You stay inside and wait for me.” He growled. “You could’ve been killed today! And who would have had to live with that, huh? Who would’ve had to live with the disappointment that he couldn’t keep you safe? That he brought you into this shitty life and couldn’t even keep you alive?” He bellowed. “Who would’ve had to look your family in the eyes and tell them he lost you? Me! That’s who!” 

More tears, and a whimper escaped your lips. “I’m sorry.” You whispered. You had never seen this side of him. He let go of your face like it burned to touch you. 

He looked around, at the torn apart truck. At the bodies. The bullets on the ground. He grimaced but didn’t say anything. He reached into the truck and grabbed your things. Your bag and all that you had on you when you were taken. Your phone wasn’t here though, they must’ve thrown it out onto the streets while they took you. 

Bucky said, “We need to get out of here. Come.” 

He didn’t turn around to see if you were following, he knew you would. Once he got on his bike, he handed you his jacket and helmet. You put both on without questioning where you were going. 

Once sat behind him, your arms hesitantly around his torso, he turned to the side and said, “City’s not safe right now. We’ll spend the night at a motel nearby.” 

And that was all he said for the next few hours. 

– 

By the time you two made it to the motel – which was much, much more decent and clean than you had imagined – the sun was already setting. The place was quiet. A few voices conversing here and there, ACs humming as ACs do, cars coming in and out frequently given there was a gas station nearby, and a burger joint on the other side of the street. 

Bucky got you two a room for the night, and didn’t say a word to you as he grabbed your hand and led you to the room. 

It was a decent room. Bed, bedside tables, TV, sofas. The usual. 

You didn’t notice Bucky had packed a bag as well. You hadn’t been paying much attention anyway. He placed his much bigger bag on the bed and pulled out a few things. Some belonging to you, you noticed. Toothbrush, soaps, clean clothes. 

He handed a bunch of things to you and said, “Go shower.” He didn’t even look at you as he spoke. Guess he was still angry at you. 

You didn’t argue. You just took the things and rushed to the bathroom, locking yourself in there for a good half an hour. 

When you stepped out of the shower, feeling clean finally, you noticed Bucky wasn’t in the room. And the weather outside had changed. You could hear the faint thunder approaching. Surely by tonight there would be a storm. 

But where had Bucky gone? 

You put your clothes away in your bag, and with no phone you had no choice but to turn the TV on. You got in bed, a few minutes into watching some random documentary when Bucky walked in with food. 

You gave him a look, wondering if he would talk to you now. But all he said as he placed the bags filled with food on the bed was, “It’s none of your fancy green smoothies and healthy wraps, but it’ll have to do for now. I’m going to shower.” 

Then he disappeared. 

You were still upset, but then hunger took over and you pawed at the bags like a raccoon. You found milkshakes, fries, and burgers. And you ate while you wondered how long Bucky would keep being angry at you. 

You were halfway through your second burger when Bucky walked out of the shower. With nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. His wet, dark hair pushed back, droplets of water still dripping down his chest and abs. 

You swallowed your food before you choked, then looked away, acting as if the documentary on the TV was much more interesting to look at compared to your half naked boyfriend. 

“Are you hurt anywhere?” He asked, and you noticed he was carrying a first-aid kit in his hands. 

You shook your head. 

“Nothing? No scratches, nothing?” He asked again. 

You shrugged, “Just a small cut. It’ll heal. Nothing serious.” 

He walked over to your side of the bed, and said, “Show me.” 

You didn’t want to argue so you placed your food aside, lifted your shirt and showed him the minuscule cut on your ribs. “It’s not–,” 

But he cut you off by placing the kit down and looking for some cotton and disinfectant. 

It burned as he cleaned in and put a little bandaid over it. It hurt even more when he didn’t kiss it after like he usually does whenever he tends to your cuts and wounds. 

You didn’t say a word though. And soon, you both finished your food in silence with only the TV and the approaching storm as noise in the background. 

The thunder got louder and louder as you both got into bed. That weird silent treatment continued, and by now you were annoyed as well. You’d admit, it was your fault for being so careless when he’d told you to be cautious. But didn’t he see that you needed him now? 

Couldn’t he see you wanted to be held? And kissed? And comforted? 

You frowned in the dark. The lights from outside came through the blinds and lit the room up a little bit. As did the lightning. You were the only one tossing and turning you noticed, Bucky was asleep it seemed. 

But the thunder, the new bed, the fear and stress from earlier, it was all keeping you from falling asleep. Plus, it was a little embarrassing to admit, but you liked being held while you fell asleep. But Bucky wasn’t even talking to you, and wrapping your own arms around yourself wasn’t working. 

Another hour went by. Now the heavy rain finally came, along with a proper thunder storm. And you couldn’t take it anymore. 

You turned to face Bucky and he had his eyes shut, facing you. Not a single item of clothing on his body, except for a thin sheet covering him from the waist down. You sighed, frowning a little in annoyance still but you couldn’t help but scoot closer to him, seeking his warmth and embrace. 

First you pressed into him, to see if he would stir or wake up. He didn’t. So you got bolder and took his metal arm and placed it around you, waiting again. He didn’t move. So you went to wrap your arms around him, and once you did, you heard his sleepy voice saying, “Oh, what’s this? Now you need me?” 

You froze, trying to see if you could pretend you were asleep already. He didn’t buy it. 

“I know you’re awake.” 

You sighed. “It’s the thunder.” You said, nuzzling his warm neck. 

“And you need daddy to protect you now, little bunny?” He mocked. “But when I try to tell you what to do to keep you safe you never listen.” 

You noticed he kept his arm around you, pulling you more into him even as he chided you. “I’m so sorry, Buck. It won’t happen again.” 

He hummed. “It better not.” 

You were quiet for a second or two, then said, “You were so mean to me earlier.” 

“I have to be.” He said sternly. “You never listen. You don’t take your training seriously, you think you’re ready to fight your way out, baby, but you’re not. All I asked you to do was not to leave that apartment until I got there. But you couldn’t help but be a brat, could you?” 

You squirmed in shame. “I don’t want you to be angry with me.” 

“Well,” He said, sounding sassy as he pulled you closer, “I am pissed. Deal with it.” 

You had had enough. You slipped out of his arms, “Stay here and brood then,” You tried to get out of bed, “I’ll sleep on one of the sofas–” 

Bucky didn’t let you. A loud thunder boomed right above as he pulled you back into bed and climbed on top of you. “Stop being fucking difficult.” He hissed. 

Before you could answer, his mouth was on yours. Beard scratching your face, his long hair tickling the sides of your face. 

His kiss was rough and it hurt in the best way. Bucky pulled away for a brief moment, squeezed your cheeks so you couldn’t close your mouth. “Brat.” Glaring down at you, he spat in your mouth before kissing you again. 

Your brain felt like it was floating. His kiss was hot. And messy. 

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, “Needy little brat. Can’t ever do as you’re told, can you? You almost got fucking killed today, but you don’t care about that. Do you? Huh?” 

You were quiet. Your brain was too foggy with lust to function. 

“Why are you quiet? No bratty words for daddy?” He asked, sliding his rough hands up and down your parted thighs. You spread them even more the moment he touched you and he smirked when he noticed it. “Go on, tell me to stop. Tell me to let you go.” He taunted, knowing full well you would never do that. 

All you did was whimper as he touched you mindlessly, sliding his fingers up and down your slit, spreading your wetness around. 

“You’re gonna listen from now on.” He stated. “I don’t care what it takes. I’ll lock you in that apartment if I have to. But from now on, if I tell you it’s not safe out there, you do not leave that house. You hear me, princess?” 

Silence. Which earned you a slap on the thigh. You yelped in pain before glaring at him. “Fine,” You said, “Yes, I hear you. I’ll be good.” You whined. 

“Of course you will,” He said, his metal hand pinned you down on the bed by wrapping around your neck to keep you in place, while his other hand wrapped around his cock. Pumping it once, twice while holding your stare. “‘Cause I’ll have you over my knee and spank that little butt raw if you don’t.” 

You whimpered and squirmed because of how badly you needed him inside you. “I will. I’ll be so good,” You begged, “Buck, please.” 

Bucky wasted no time sliding inside of you. Giving you no time to even think, he moved in and out of you in a way that had you moaning out loud, not caring that the walls might be thin. 

The storm got louder somehow, thunder rumbling and lightning lighting up the room every now and then. The rain got heavier, silencing the rest of the world as Bucky fucked you. His body weight pressing down onto you in a way that made you never want to be anywhere else. 

It didn’t matter that you were in a small motel room, so far away from home. It didn’t matter that danger could still be lurking around. Nothing mattered, not when he held your stare as he fucked you hard and fast, barely giving you time to breathe right. 

He leaned in again, whispering against the corner of your open mouth, “Look how you behave the moment you have some cock in you. Is that all my baby wanted? Daddy’s cock? Hmm? Is this why you’ve been pouting for the past few hours?” He chuckled, spreading your thighs even more, “I’ve been mean to you, haven’t I?” He cooed, fucking into you deeper somehow. “I’ve been so mean by telling you just where you messed up and how bad things could’ve gotten if I didn’t reach you in time. I’m so mean to you, aren’t I?” He mocked you, scoffing, “Is that why your pussy is strangling my cock, baby? Because daddy’s so mean to you, is he?”

You could feel your face getting hotter as your walls clenched around him over and over again, as he sped up and pounded into you. You felt all of him stretching you out, filling you up, moving rapidly in and out of you until he was all you could focus on. 

“Is this what you wanted, little bunny?” He whispered, pounding into you relentlessly as he bent down to bite your lower lip and tug on it. “Is this enough to make you behave from now on, baby?” 

You moaned at how perfect his warm body felt on top of yours, his weight pressing down on you. His stubble tickled your skin as he kissed your face and bit on your lip. Your legs trembled as his thrusts, relentless and unbearably good. The pressure around your lower body grew, familiar, tight and hot.

The storm, the streetlights, and every little bit of light allowed you to see how Bucky looked down at you as you tightened around his cock. He smirked, looking down to where his cock disappeared into you each time he thrust in. “I killed for you today.” He whispered, “I saved you, and this is what I get? Attitude? A bratty girl? Not even a thank you,” He scoffed, “Not even a ‘thank you for saving me daddy’, nothing.” The cold cruelty in his voice only made you clench around him harder. 

His hand squeezed your throat again, making you moan even louder. “Dirty little slut. Look at you, all cock drunk.” He scoffed, giving you yet another messy kiss. “Are you gonna be good from now on?” 

“Yes,” You whined, not recognising your voice because of how desperate you sounded. Then again, only he could make you sound this way. You whimpered, unable to say anything else because of how good he felt sliding in and out of you. 

Fuck, you needed this. So much. You whined again when his hand let go of your throat, fingers trailing down your squirming body until his metal fingers found your clit, toying with it while he pounded into you mercilessly. 

“Yeah?” He stared deep into your eyes as he spoke. “You’re gonna be my good girl and listen to me?” 

You nodded, tears streaming down your face again. The exhaustion from earlier, the day you had survived. It was all too much. “Please…” You whimpered, squirming and unable to hold back anymore. You needed to come so bad. Your thoughts were a mess. 

“Good girl.” 

And you couldn’t hold back anymore. You came undone all around him. Moaning, your back arching off the bed as you came hard around his cock, tightening around him even harder than earlier. 

Bucky kept pounding into you as your orgasm washed over you, your walls squeezing him violently. Your body trembling under him. “That’s it, babygirl. Come for daddy.” 

You could hear the untamed hunger in his deep, growly voice. He groaned until he came undone as well. You whined and whimpered as you felt him filling you up, his thrusts slowing down, his cum dripping down your inner thighs. 

—

You vaguely remember his cleaning the two of you. He let you rest for a minute, but then it seemed like he couldn’t keep his hands to himself. So he flipped you around, straddled you and began massaging your worn out body. 

He rubbed his rough hands all over your back, down your hips, and thighs. It was quiet for a while. Just the rain, the thunder, and the sound of Bucky breathing. 

Then you heard his gentle voice. “I can’t lose you. Not you.” He whispered, like he was saying it to himself, “Not you, baby.” 

Your heart throbbed and pinched.  

He leaned down and kissed the back of your neck, your shoulders, down your spine, all while massaging your body. “I don’t like being mean to you.” He kissed his way up again, nuzzling your ear and whispering, “Earlier today,” He spoke softly, “When I watched the tracker show me how fast you were getting further and further away, thinking about how they must’ve grabbed you. How easily, how quickly they took you, I–,” His voice cracked. 

You couldn’t help the tears anymore, “I’m sorry.” You tried to turn over and face him but he gently pushed you back down on the bed. 

“Shh,” He shut you up. “Just let me take care of you.” His hands touched you everywhere. Soft touches soothing the spots he’d grabbed harshly earlier. “You scared me, baby.” He kissed around the cut on your side. “For a moment I thought I’d never see you again.” 

“I’ll be good, I promise.” You sniffled, trying to look at him over your shoulder. “I’ll train harder, I’ll be better. I won’t let my guard down, ever.” 

He leaned in and kissed your lips gently. “You’re perfect.” He stated. “We’ll work on training you better. We’ll be okay. Don’t worry baby, I’ve got you. Always.” 

You gave him a teary smile and sheepishly said, “Thank you for saving me.” 

Bucky laughed softly, nuzzling your neck again, kissing your skin like he couldn’t get enough. “I would burn this entire world down if anyone tries to take you from me again.” 

You laid your head back down on the pillow, laughing softly. Thinking he was joking. 

He wasn’t.

[99woez]

don't talk about it ᰔᩚ j.sc

warnings. smut, best friend!sungchan, roommate!sungchan, arguing, it's a dumb argument but you are fighting this man, physical fighting, just shoving nothing crazy but a physical altercation starts this all, unprotected sex, hair pulling, some angst? idk if i missed something let me know! i also did not proofread this because i got out 5k words in one night which is crazy for me. anyways, enjoy!

wc. 5k

summary. your best friend embarrasses you in front of your campus crush. so, of course, you decide to fight with him in the living room and learn some interesting things about him in the process.

Sungchan had always been stupidly large, in your opinion.

He was so large that you couldn’t resist the urge to playfully test his strength, curious to see how his fit frame would react to your playful jabs or if he would sway with a gentle nudge. He would playfully push you back, never with full force, but these light-hearted scuffles became a regular part of your friendship. It was a source of joy, a shared silliness, it meant everything.

Except for the times it did.

“You’re so stupid sometimes, oh my god!” You shouted at your so-called “best friend,” shoving hard into his chest. This shove wasn’t like the ones you usually gave him. This one was harsh and mean. There was not a semblance of anything alluding to happiness on your face as you looked up at Sungchan with knitted brows and parted lips, shoving hard into his firm chest once again, this time with a shout of frustration.

If we’re being honest, you two have been drinking. It’s not like you’re shitfaced and neither is he, but the alcohol is just enough to make the world blurry at the edges and your words harsher than you typically allow them to be. His chest, solid as a boulder beneath your pushing palms, doesn't yield like it usually would during your fond roughhousing. He stands firm, his expression teetering between annoyance and worry.

"Stop it," he gruffly says, grabbing your wrists mid-shove. Just like that, the playful laughter that usually echoes between you two gets choked in the tension-filled silence. You try to yank your hands-free, but his grip is firm yet gentle. He was never rough with you, even when the fights turned serious like this. It was a rarity for things to turn nasty, but sometimes Sungchan was so oblivious you couldn’t stop yourself from lashing out at him, especially with a few mixed drinks in your system.

“Let go,” You snapped. Sungchan leans in with a tilt of his head, letting out a “Hm?” as he does so, challenging you.

“Chill out first.” That did the exact opposite of chill you out. You hated it when he took that tone of voice with you, as if you were some child that needed to be put into a timeout. 

There were many things you loved about Sungchan: His kindness, his dedication to anything he sets his mind to, his eyes, you loved a lot about Sungchan, but there were many things you couldn’t stand about him. He was oblivious to the simplest of social cues, he got loud when he was drunk, and the way he comforted people was an absolute joke. If you hadn’t known him for more than half your life and shared an apartment with him, you would’ve ditched him when you two graduated high school.

But you didn’t. Now, you’re stuck with a big, dumb roommate who loves telling the men you like that you like them. God, Wonbin was never going to talk to you again after the scene Sungchan caused trying to get him to give you his number. You still can feel the embarrassment hot in your veins, making you lurch forward and finally give his chest a shove that makes him stumble a few steps.

“I won’t chill out! I won’t! What you did was fucking rude!” You yelled, pointing a finger in his face to punctuate your words and get your point across. Sungchan scoffed, turning his head away from you, but you could see his tongue press against the inside of his cheek, making the skin push out slightly. It was a habit of his you had noticed when you two went to parties together in college. It’s what he does when he’s annoyed and holding himself back, beating someone’s ass. It’s a rare occasion for Sungchan to beat someone’s ass, but when it did happen, it was always deserved. Typically, it would be a drunk guy who wanted to buck up to the biggest guy at the party, a one-sided battle of masculinity that Sungchan always won, no matter who came up to him. You’ve only seen Sungchan throw a punch twice in your entire friendship.

Once, when you were in high school, and the last time was at a party during your junior year of college when a man put his hands on you despite you telling him to fuck off. The other times, he had simply told you about when you’d see him in the kitchen with littered bruises on his body. You think about that night more often than you’d like to admit. Sungchan didn’t hesitate to throw a punch for you, knocking the man clean out by the time he was done with him. It lit a fire in you that you’re not proud to admit. There was just something in his eyes that rubbed your brain right. You would never admit it, but were desperate to see that look again. You wanted to see him angry, to watch him lose control no matter how fucked up it sounds.

“Get your hand out of my face,” Sungchan told you firmly, looking you in the eyes to get his point across, but you weren’t deterred. You step closer to him, finger still in his face.

“No. Not until you apologize. Admit it was rude. You were rude.”

“I wasn’t fucking rude,” Sungchan argues, swatting your hand down when you don’t move it from his face. You bring it back up without a care of the consequences, resulting in a game of him swatting your hand down every time you bring it up.

You two look stupid. Thank God this is in the privacy of your living room.

“You had no right-”

“You were never going to talk to him if I didn’t! You’re a chicken-”

“I’m not a fucking chicken––Oh my god, don’t call me a bird.”

“You’re such a fucking chicken, dude. Do you remember how long it took you to even talk to Shotaro? Months. ‘Took you months to even say hi to him, and that’s because-”

“Shut up.”

“That’s because I had to step it! I was the one to get you to talk to him!” Sungchan continued with a shit-eating grin, voice picking up volume as he leaned down to get closer to you as if you couldn’t hear him clear enough, pointing to himself like he had won some kind of award. Your already flushed cheeks begin to heat up when you remember the Shotaro incident of 2022. He always brought up Shotaro, and even if it was just to pick on you playfully, it still struck a nerve. You were more shy than Sungchan ever was, always letting him start the conversations or introduce you to new people. Half of your friends are Sungchan’s friends; half of the people you’ve dated are because Sungchan knew them first. Every connection in your life could be traced back to Sungchan, which drove you insane.

“Now, you want to talk all this shit because you got embarrassed I had to step in again and help you get some dick,” Sungchan pressed, his grin turning into a smirk as he nodded at his words, feeling them in his being because they’re true. You stared at him with contempt, teeth grinding as your fists balled up tightly. “You should be thanking me. You’re so ungrateful for everything-”

You lunged at him. You swear you don’t have control of your body when you do it, you just throw your entire weight into his chest and hope for the best. Sungchan let out an “Oof!” sound when you collided with him, staggering back and hitting the ground with you on top of him. You act as if you two are playfully wrestling, but none of your movements have an ounce of playfulness in them. You straddled his hips firmly as you shoved at his hands harshly to get them away from grabbing you. You knew once he got his hands on you, it was over. He’d flip you two over, and it’d be done. You couldn’t let him win this. You couldn’t do it. You had to prove it to him.

You don’t know what it was, but you had to prove it.

You grab his hair tightly, jerking his head off the carpet to distract him, tugging hard on the brown locks. Sungchan lets out a yelp that sounds pathetic. His eyes squeezed shut as his large hands wrapped around your wrist to try and pull you off of him.

“Not fair-” He started. You shake his head, eliciting another yelp from him.

“Shut up. Shut the fuck up,” You spat at him, shaking him again. His face contorted in pain and confusion, groaning softly as he did what you told him for once. You couldn’t believe he actually listened. Truthfully, you didn’t think you’d get this far. You’re not exactly sure what to do next. So, you shake his head again, making him hiss when you tugged harder on his locks. “Can’t fucking stand you, you know that? You’re such a jerk sometimes. Just big, stupid, and taking up space.” You shake his head around with every word, watching him drop his hands and put them up in front of him in faux surrender, but he doesn’t say anything. He only whined and grunted when you pulled on his hair harder than usual.

You waited for him to spit something back at you, to call you a coward, to say you needed him, but nothing but pants left his plush lips. You furrow your brows in confusion at his silence. Sungchan was never quiet. You shake him again.

“Hello? Say something!” You shake his head again, this time back and forth. You won’t lie. It was fun to have him like this. He acted like some kind of puppet that you were the master of, pulling him around in whichever direction you wanted him to go in, and he just took it. Sungchan sighed in defeat, keeping his eyes shut tightly.

“My dick just twitched.” 

Oh.

“Excuse me?” You couldn’t think of anything else to say. Your hands, which had been roughly pulling at Sungchan's hair, suddenly freeze. Your heart pounds in your chest as you gaze down at him, cocking a brow at him. His face is flushed a deep crimson, though whether from embarrassment or something else, you can't tell.

"I said," he starts again, much slower this time, swallowing hard, "My... my dick just twitched."

You blink at his repeated confession, not expecting him to repeat the words. There’s a tension growing between the two of you that you’ve never felt before, making your throat dry as you stare at Sungchan’s embarrassed face, watching his chest rise and fall as he pants beneath you. Flashes of what he’d look like without his shirt flash in your brain, wondering what sounds he’d make as you sink down on him, how his eyes would look, how the muscles would ripple under his––Jesus Christ, get it together, girl. You remind yourself, clearing your throat down at him.

“Like…Seriously?” Sungchan nods at your dry words, opening his eyes slowly to look up at you. A switch in your brain is flipped when you see his big brown eyes. He looks utterly pathetic like this, hair in your hand revealing his forehead, eyes pleading for something silent, and lips in a perfect soft pout. You wanted to take his picture like the actual definition of pitiful.

You chuckle at him, shaking him again and tugging his hair hard to see if it really did anything for him. He whines again, shutting his eyes as his hands lurch towards your hips, holding tightly with a sharp breath through his teeth. You smirk at his reaction, raising your brows in slight shock it was this easy to get him going. Maybe it was the alcohol, you think. You’ve seen Sungchan shove his tongue down girls’ throats just mere minutes after he met them, but this is you. You’re his best friend, his roommate, the girl who beat his ass for talking to her crush for her. You know you’re pretty, and Sungchan is just a man, but you’re still caught off guard by it all.

Your palm still cradled his scalp, thumb lazily tracing small circles at the base of his hairline. Sungchan’s hands on your hips squeeze gently, fingers digging into your flesh just a bit more than necessary and causing a shiver to wind its way up your spine.

Without thinking, you leaned forward and claimed Sungchan's lips in a rough, desperate kiss. His taste was different than any guy you've ever kissed - salty with a hint of beer and lime from the drink he had tonight. You wrapped your hand tightly around the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer to you as your other hand found its way under his shirt to feel his warm skin. You didn't let up when he moaned into your mouth, feeling your touch while he tentatively kissed you back. Your anger turned into desperation quickly as you slipped your tongue into his mouth, tasting him fully now. His lips were soft and plush against yours as they parted slightly to let you in further. You moaned the moment your tongues slid together, digging your nails into his toned chest as he pressed in further, sucking softly on the slick muscle in your mouth.

Sungchan's hands moved up your body, gripping your waist and still pulling you closer. The fabric of your shirt scratching against his rough palms made you shiver with anticipation for more contact. You grind down on him out of instinct, feeling the bulge in his pants grow as he groans against your mouth, wanting more from both of you. His scent filled your senses - a mix of sweat and cologne and something uniquely Sungchan that made you want more.

The sound of his rhythmic grunts filled the room, a mix of desire and surprise in every breath he took. His fingers dug into your skin through your shirt, and you moaned into his mouth once more. Your breath hitched when he bit down on your lower lip gently, making you gasp and whimper into the kiss before breaking it, desperate for air. You gasp softly when you part, watching with hazy eyes as he pants as well, lips slick with spit and typically wide eyes heavy with lust.

You tug at his shirt, nodding before he has any time to say something that will kill the mood.

“Take it off.”

And he listens like a dog, pushing himself up and pulling his white T-shirt over his head, tossing it aside before wrapping his arms around your torso and pulling you flush against him. There are no thoughts in your head right now, only Sungchan, touching Sungchan, kissing Sungchan, fucking Sungchan––Holy shit, you were totally going to fuck Sungchan. That hits you harder than you thought it would. You’ve thought about it before. How could you not? He’s beautiful, kind, and built like a God. Of course, you thought about fucking Sungchan. It was nothing like this, however. Typically, you thought of him having your face pressed into the mattress, back arched, and fucking you from behind like he was getting paid. You would’ve never guessed you’d be on top, but it’s not like you can’t get into it for Sungchan. You’d do anything for Sungchan.

"Are you sure?" Sungchan whispers against the skin of your neck, his hands finding your hips again to steady you against him, his bare chest warm and firm. You're taken aback for a moment, not expecting the question. But then you realize that he’s always been considerate, even when he’s on the verge of losing control.

"Yeah," you say firmly, the word slipping out without thought and causing heat to flare in Sungchan's eyes.

Without hesitation, you reach for the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head swiftly. The cool air hits your skin, making goosebumps spread across your chest and arms. Sungchan's eyes widen as he takes you in, his gaze making you feel exposed and powerful. You struggle to pull your jeans off, having to crawl off of him to kick them off in haste. You hate how desperate you look but can’t bring yourself to care. Sungchan rolls on his side when you crawl off of him, lingering towards you like a lost puppy. His eyes watch as more of your skin is revealed to him, letting out a groan when he sees the smooth skin of your thighs.

Before you have the chance to climb back on top of him, he leans in, kissing the side of your thigh with a moan. You let out a gasp in shock but watched him with parted lips, threading your hands through his hair again as he dragged his lips all over the expanse of your thigh, leaving a trail of glistening spit as he did. He grabs your ankle, pulling you towards him roughly, making you fall back onto the carpet with another gasp. You don’t argue for once; you are too invested in what Sungchan will do next, even if you care.

His lips pepper kisses across the inside of your thighs, nipping at the sensitive skin with deep breaths as he inched closer and closer to your core.

He licks his lips as he hooks a long finger in your underwear, pulling them to the side. A moan leaves his lips when he sees your pussy for the first time, looking down at it like he’s looking at a coveted piece of art. You watch him closely, ears turning pink as he lifts two fingers to his lips, licking the tips of them before bringing them down between your legs to rub circles into your clit. His gaze stays on your cunt, watching how the pretty pink flesh moves beneath his fingers, biting his bottom lip when he hears you let out a whine, seeing your thighs tremble at just the slightest touch. Finally, his dark gaze lifts to meet yours.

With his eyes trained on yours, he presses a long finger inside you. A sigh leaves your lips as your eyes flutter shut, gripping the carpet with one hand while the other dug into your side, biting your bottom lip as he pressed another finger inside. You moan this time, feeling your walls begin to stretch for him. You hear him groan quietly, making your eyes open. You’re immediately met with his gaze that never left your face. He looks like he’s in a trance, staring at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. You can’t tell how it makes you feel, but you feel hot, like you’re boiling from the inside out. It aches, but it’s so intoxicating that you want more of it.

You whimper at how his fingers slickly slide out, then back in, watching him get lost in the sight of your reactions. You’re so wet for him. It’s almost embarrassing how wet you got so quickly. You swallow thickly as your chest rises and falls with each pant. His eyes stay on your face as his thumb presses against your clit, rubbing slow circles that make you shiver with a choked-out moan. His free hand cups your jaw, tilting your head back slightly, forcing your lips apart to look deeply into your eyes as he watches you crumble under him.

Feeling emboldened, Sungchan takes his fingers out of you slowly, letting out a long moan when they leave you empty. He lays a line of sweet pecks against your inner thighs, leaving tiny bites and nips on the soft flesh until he reaches the hem of his boxers. With a breathy "Fuck," he tugs them down enough to reveal his hard cock pressing against the fabric. You gulp as it springs from its confines, averting your eyes momentarily before snapping them back up to challenge his gaze. His thick length twitches with anticipation before he guides it towards you, slick with pre-cum leaking from the tip. Your heart stops for a beat before racing wildly in your chest again.

"Wrap your legs around me," Sungchan orders softly, not breaking eye contact even when you hesitate for a second before obeying. He grunts when he feels your folds pressing against his cock, pushing inside without a moment’s hesitation. He slides in so easily, groaning at how smooth the glide inside you is. He sounds as beautiful as he looks, making you moan as well. The way his cock splits your walls apart for him is delicious, to say the least, as a euphoria fills your veins as your walls spasm around him with another moan, this one airier than the one before.

“Fuck,” Sungchan curses, fingers digging into the carpet next to your head as he looks down at where your bodies were connected before back at your face. You two lock eyes again, making your heart hammer in your chest harder than before. Still, you meet his gaze with a quiet whimper, hands wrapping around his strong biceps as you bat your lashes at him.

“Feels good, Sungie?” You ask in a too-sweet voice. You rarely whip out for him unless you ask for a favor, like getting something off the top shelf or making him finish your short answer response questions because you don’t want to. Sungchan would do anything for you, and you’d do anything for Sungchan. He takes a deep breath at your tone, lips curling into a smirk before he bites his bottom lip, nodding.

Then, his hips roll into yours.

Sungchan's thick cock feels even better than you could have ever imagined, stretching you wide and fulfilling you completely. His hips roll into yours slowly, making you moan and whine beneath him with each gentle thrust. The way he fills you up is mind-numbing, his smirk turning into a grimace as he leans down to capture your lips in a rough kiss.

Your walls clamp down on him at the contact, purposely trying to get more friction between the two of you. Sungchan groans against your lips, slipping his hands under your back and lifting you up onto his lap effortlessly. You gasp into his mouth, feeling his hard chest pressed against yours. Your heart pounds in your chest as he starts to fuck you properly now, eyes closing at the sensation that washes over you. You swear you can feel his heartbeat against your chest, but you convince yourself you’re just dreaming it.

You feel every inch of him inside of you, making your walls tighten around him with every snap of his hips into yours. A tiny sob leaves your lips when he hits that spot inside you that has you seeing stars. You dig your nails into the flesh of his shoulders, jaw-dropping and eyes rolling back at how your body moves like a rag doll and at how sharply his hips snap up into you. He groans into your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin before sucking softly to soothe it with his tongue. You can't help but shudder in his lap; this feels so good that it hurts. His hands hold you in place, one on your waist and the other cradling the back of your head as he takes rough control of the kiss again, teeth scraping against soft skin with every thrust. He pants against your lips, moaning your name softly and how good you make him feel. It's all too much for you; all too real with Sungchan, yet so not real. You’re fucking your roommate on your living room floor––You’re fucking your best friend on your living room floor.

Your hands find their way into his hair again, holding onto him tightly as he continues to fuck into you like your his, his lips trailing hot kisses down your neck and over your collarbone. You mewl at the feeling, arching your back into his chest as he hits that sweet spot inside you once more. You could feel the warmth spreading through your veins, making you dizzy with need. The room spins around you as he thrusts harder, faster, deeper into your already aching pussy. His moans mix with yours, their tongues meeting in a messy kiss that speaks volumes about how much you both want this.

Your legs quiver as he takes control of the situation, fingers digging into your skin softly before trailing up to caress your breasts through the thin fabric of your bra. You let out a strangled cry when he pinches at one of your nipples roughly, making you moan into his mouth even more, looking down to watch him work with a breath through your teeth. Your hands' card through the hair on the back of his head, eyes shutting to focus solely on the pleasure coursing through your veins with every drag of Sungchan’s cock against your walls.

"Sun-Sungchan," you whimper. The sound of his name on your lips is like music to his ears. Your body is sweaty and flushed, a beautiful sight for him to feast his eyes upon. He growls lowly when he finally meets your gaze again, heat pooling in your lower belly at the raw desire he displays.

“You’re so fucking good, baby. ‘Should’ve fucked you soon, hm?” Sungchan groans, his voice creased with effort as he continues to pound into you. You can’t help but respond with a needy whimper, skin burning under his touch as you nod your head dumbly. You feel him everywhere, and it's overwhelming - the way he’s stretched you wide open, the way he feels pushing deep inside of you, the way his hands are holding you in place as if afraid that you'll slip away from underneath him.

Your heart beats furiously against your chest, matching rhythm with the throbbing ache between your legs. You're close, too close, but not quite there yet. Sungchan seems to sense your growing desperation, the flash of triumph in his eyes telling you he knows exactly what he's doing to you. He reaches down and begins rubbing slow circles on your clit again, thumb pressing against the sensitive nub just enough to make you cry out in pleasure.

“You gonna cum for me?” He whispers against your throat, teeth dipping into your soft flesh, causing a sharp gasp from your lips. You nod frantically in response, words failing you as white-hot pleasure courses through your veins. He laughs softly - a dark chuckle that sends shivers down your spine.

The way you melt against him is intoxicating. He grunts, unable to think straight as he feels his own orgasm building up. His hips move even faster, his cock sliding in and out of your welcoming heat with each thrust. He groans against your skin, panting heavily as he fucks you like it’s his last dying will, wet sounds filling the room that mixes with your pants and moans. You squeeze your eyes shut at the sounds you’re making, cheeks growing more read because of it. Sex is so embarrassing sometimes.

He pulls away from your neck just a little to look into your eyes, panting heavily as they roll back in pleasure. Sungchan's lips curl into a smirk at seeing how lost you get. Your walls tighten around his cock once again as you cum around him, making Sungchan's eyes roll back into his head and tilt his head back with a melodic groan that has you moaning as well. You feel him tremble beneath you as he finally cums inside of you, making you smirk softly as your hands run up and down his back.

You throw your head back and cry out his name, orgasm hitting you hard and fast like a freight train. He watches as you finally hit your peak, jaw-dropping at how gorgeous you look when you feel good. Your walls clamp down around him, and your muscles spasm in ecstasy; even through the haze of pleasure, you feel every drop of his cum spilling into you, the heat of it searing into your core. Your body convulses and shivers under the onslaught of pleasure, your voice breaking on Sungchan's name. 

Sungchan stays still for a moment longer, his cock still buried deep inside of you. His chest heaves against yours, ragged gasps filling the space between your sated bodies. He blinks slowly, his gaze holding yours captive as he pants out your name. You take his face into his hands with a deep breath, leaning in and kissing his lips without a second though. He moans into the kiss, holding your wrists gently as he does so.

You both stay like that for a while. Bodies joined together in the aftermath of your shared orgasm. The only sounds in the room are your gasping breaths and the rapid beat of your heart pounding in sync. Cautiously, Sungchan pulls out of you gently, making your pussy squeeze around nothing instinctively at the loss, a soft whimper leaving your lips.

He rolls off to one side, pulling you with him so that you're tucked against his side. His arm wraps around you and keeps you close to him, fingers dancing along your sweaty skin lightly. Neither of you speak for long moments, too wrapped up in trying to regain control of your breathing and coming down from your highs even to fathom thinking of words right now.

Eventually, though, Sungchan breaks the silence with a soft whisper, "You okay?"

Your lips twitch into a tired smile against his chest, pressing a small kiss there before nodding. "Yeah," you huff out after a moment, "That was…"

"Crazy," he finishes for you, making you shut your eyes with a laugh, nodding in agreement.

“Yeah…That was crazy,” You whisper, moving your head to rest on his chest to soak up more of his warmth. Your cheek squishes against his chest as you lay there, looking down at his spent cock resting against his thigh. It hits you that you’re both naked and just had sex on your living room floor. This calls for a conversation at the least but you can’t drag yourself to start it, completely spent from what just occurred.

So, instead, you close your eyes.

You’ll deal with it in the morning.

[connorsui]

In Your Arms

Zayne x reader

Genre/warnings: pure fluff, boyfriend zayne wanting peace and you give it, manz wanna make u a wife, no warnings we don't die around here...

Synopsis: Zayne finds solace in the warmth of your presence amidst the chaos of his demanding career, and silently, he cherishes every moment, hoping one day to make your bond official

Note: I wanted doctor zayne to cure my heart ....so I made doctor zayne want to make me a wife ...

w.c: 1,070

Zayne’s footsteps echoed softly in the sterile, dimly lit hospital corridor, his mind still entangled in the complexities of the latest surgery he’d performed. His shoulders were tense, a slight frown creasing his usually composed expression as he made his way out of the building. It had been another long day, filled with the kind of high-stakes decisions that most people couldn’t fathom. But as soon as he saw you waiting for him by the entrance, your face lighting up at the sight of him, something in him softened.

The sight of you there, with your soft smile and eyes that sparkled just for him, made the world tilt back into place. The weight of the day fell away, and for a moment, he allowed himself to simply bask in the warmth of your presence. He didn’t need to say anything; the way his eyes lingered on you, tracing the curve of your lips and the gentle slope of your shoulders, spoke volumes.

“Hi, Love! ” you greeted him, your voice a gentle balm to his frayed nerves.

“Hello, Sweetheart” he replied, his tone low and warm, the single word carrying a weight of unspoken affection. His hands itched to reach out, to pull you into his arms right there in front of everyone, but Zayne had always been careful with his emotions, especially in public. Instead, he settled for a small, almost imperceptible smile that you had come to recognize as his version of a bear hug.

The two of you walked in comfortable silence, the soft rustle of your clothing the only sound in the quiet night air. It wasn’t until you were inside his car, the doors closed, and the world shut out, that he allowed himself the luxury of touch. His hand reached out, fingers lightly grazing yours before he intertwined them, the simple gesture grounding him in a way nothing else could.

“I would like to first apologize to you …” he murmured after a few minutes, his voice laced with the kind of guilt that came from too many late nights and missed dinners.

Surprised; you questioned. “What for exactly?”

“I just know I haven’t been around much.”

You gave his hand a gentle squeeze, offering him a soft, understanding smile. “Zayne, It's alright… I know you’re doing everything you can…But…let's focus on the now.. is there anything I can do to make your night better?”

He turned his head to look at you, his gaze searching your face for any sign of fatigue or frustration. Instead, he found only warmth and concern, your eyes silently urging him to let you take care of him for once. The tension in his chest eased a fraction, and he released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“Just being with you makes everything better,” he admitted, his voice rough with the weight of the day. “I don’t need anything else… just you.”

The ride to his apartment was filled with quiet conversation, the kind that flowed easily between two people who were entirely comfortable with each other. When you arrived, Zayne wasted no time pulling you close as soon as the door clicked shut behind you. His arms wrapped around you, his head resting on your chest as he exhaled deeply, finally allowing himself to relax.

“You’re so tense,” you murmured, your fingers instinctively threading through his hair, the familiar motion soothing both of you. “Why don’t you let me run you a bath? Or make you some tea?”

He tightened his hold on you, shaking his head slightly as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. “No, just… this is what I need. You’re what I need.”

The way he clung to you, as if letting go would mean losing the one thing keeping him grounded, made your heart ache with a mix of love and concern. He was always so strong, so capable, but even Zayne had his limits, and you could see that he’d reached them tonight.

“Let’s get you to bed, then,” you suggested softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head. “You deserve to rest.”

He nodded against you, and you led him to his bedroom, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a warm light over the room. Zayne moved with a quiet grace, his every action deliberate as he turned to face you, his hands settling on your waist.

“I’m sorry I’m not more… put together tonight,” he murmured, his eyes heavy with exhaustion as he leaned in to rest his forehead against yours.

“You don’t have to be anything other than yourself with me,” you whispered back, your hands coming up to cup his face. “I love you just as you are, Zayne.”

His breath hitched slightly at your words, and he pressed his lips to yours in a slow, lingering kiss that made your heart swell with emotion. There was no rush, no urgency—just the deep, abiding love that had grown between you over time, steady and unshakable.

When he pulled back, his hands moved to the hem of your shirt, his eyes meeting yours in silent question. You nodded, and he carefully lifted your shirt over your head, his hands warm against your skin as he undressed you with the same precision he used in surgery.

Once you were both stripped down; Zayne pulled you into bed, his arms wrapping around you as he settled you against his chest. His heartbeat was steady, a comforting rhythm beneath your ear as you laid together in the quiet.

“Is this okay?” he asked softly, his lips brushing the top of your head.

“It’s perfect,” you whispered back, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his skin.

Zayne smiled against your hair, his hold on you tightening slightly as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. In that moment, with you wrapped up in his arms, he felt complete, as if all the pieces of his life had finally fallen into place.

“I’ve been waiting for this all day,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. “ — to be here with you… it’s all I need.”

You nestled closer, your heart swelling with love for the man who had given so much of himself to others, yet asked for so little in return. “I’m here, Zayne. I’m always here.”

As you drifted off to sleep, Zayne couldn’t help but think about how much he wanted this—wanted you—every day for the rest of his life. And one day, he would make that dream a reality. But for now, he was content to hold you close, savoring the warmth of your body against his as he followed you into sleep.

Doctor zayne with a need for you is the only man I will ever need

[imaginaryf1shots]

Teacher | Max Verstappen

WC: 2.1K

Max x teacher!reader

summery: (REQUESTED) Just moments of you being a teacher during the week and a WAG during the weekend.

Warning: None

Masterlist

Max Masterlist

Who would've known, there was no way anyone would have predicted it. But Max Verstappen, 3 time World Champion is in a relationship with a school teacher. How you stumbled upon the Red Bull driver is something unknown to the public. Working in Monaco certainly gave people ideas, but no one knew that Max's 'rival' Charles introduced the two of you. Charles couldn't have known how attached you two will be, and he LOVES to take credit for it. Here you are happily together. There's a soft side to Max that's only brought out with you.

The fans all just love you, you're always seen interacting with kids around the paddock, giving away signed hats and getting bracelets that Max wouldn't wear otherwise. And yes, he wears them for a few minutes enough for a few pictures before taking them off, but that's the only way he'll do it. For you. Want Max to do something? Better get y/n then. During the school year you come to a race once a month maybe twice, if a race is close to Monaco, school is out for one reason or the other, you're in the paddock.

It was a week off for Max, meaning he's back in Monaco. A time where he likes to spend time with you. So he takes the chance of going to your job when you tell him it's a profession day. People who have different professions will all come to the school and explain what they do to the kids. Some parents would be coming and Max volunteered himself. When you brought up the idea with the school they jumped at the idea. Monaco loves Formula one drivers, and what a better driver to have than the reigning world champion. There was a Camera set up in the corner of the room behind the kids to capture everything.

Max texts you when he arrives, you planned to go meet him, but before you could do that, he comes into your classroom. Being led by your enthusiastic Principle. Once Max walks into the room, there are gasps from the children, their eyes going wide in awe and wonder. Parents all murmur and whisper to each other. Max is thankfully not dressed in his Red Bull team kit, you were afraid he'd do that. Like a good boyfriend, he wore the outfit you had left for him in the closet.

"Thank you so much for coming." You tell Max as you give him a quick hug in greeting, you usually leave earlier while he's home, he sleeps after you after all.

"No worries." Max kisses your cheek quickly, you turn to the classroom and clap your hands once.

"Okay, class, who knows who this is?" You ask with a smile. There's shouting and moving around as they scream his name in their cute accents. "That's right, this is Max Verstappen, now what does Max do?"

"he's a formula 1 driver!"

"He drives for RedBull."

"He's the world champion!"

"He's your boyfriend!"

The last one takes you by surprise, some of the parents laugh and you join them.

"Okay, how about we let Max tell us about his job." You say and step aside for your boyfriend to take centre stage and have all the attention on him.

"Thank you miss y/l/n." Max says with a wink your way. It takes everything in you to not blush. "I'm Max Verstappen, I drive for Red Bull Racing, and I'm the current world champion. I've always known what I wanted to do, but it's alright if you don't have many drivers get into karting when they're older. Being a Formula 1 driver requires you to be smart, work hard and train a lot. You have to be consistent, it's not easy but if you want to do something then you have to work and study hard for it."

"Okay, any questions? Who wants to ask Max questions like journalists?" You asked after Max was done talking, many hands raised up to ask. "Max, why don't you pick your interviewer."

"How about..." Max looked around at the classroom, seeing a shy hand raised in the air, looking at the girl, he smiled. "You?"

"Me?" She asked timidly, Max nodded and said yes. "Um, can girls be drivers too?"

"Of course, girls can be anything they want to be." Max answered truthfully, "There are a lot of girls who are in lower formulas, and on their way to Formula 1, in Karting there are a lot of girls as well, Miss y/l/n, used to Kart a little when she was young."

"Wah, really?"

"Did you miss y/l/n?"

"Why did you stop?"

"Okay, settle down, I did kart a little, but it was only a hobby." You tell the children, giving Max a look for exposing you like that. "Besides, if I continued karting, who would be here teaching you?”

"I bet you would beat them all Miss y/l/n." One of the girls exclaimed and many agreed with her. The kids went on asking questions to Max, at one point you brought out hats, and one by one the kids came out for their hats to be signed and a quick picture, before Max took a picture with the class.

The principal was standing in your class while you went to say goodbye to Max. "You were amazing, thank you so much."

"It's nothing schatje, anything for you." Max said and pressed a quick kiss to your lips, his hand on your lower back. "I'll see you at home."

Let's say when the videos taken on that day hit the school website and Instagram, the Formula 1 side of the internet went up in flames. Everyone was losing their minds over it. Redbull even took some of the videos and pictures and posted it to their social media. And you were the coolest teacher to ever exist.

By the time the Monaco GP rolled around, Red Bull arranged with the school to have some of your students to come on Friday, you and two three other teachers would be with them. All parents agreed for their children to be on camera, which Red Bull was happy about. Someone came and took you guys from the gates, the kids were looking at everything in marvel, in awe. Each of the teachers was responsible for 5 kids. You were in your teacher mood, not WAG mode for the day.

"Come on Kids stay together." You told the children and kept an eye on them, the walk to Red Bull wasn't long, thankfully. Getting into the hospitality, you were happy to see that the team converted one of the areas to accommodate the kids, and have them in one space, with only one entry and exit.

"We'll have them get to the garage, five at a time, we have some activities for them to do while they wait and free practice to start, between Max and Checo will come and talk to them." The marketing manager told you and you nodded along with her.

You decided to let the other teachers go to the garage first, you've been there before more times than you could count. By the time it was your group's turn they were giddy, just about to burst from how excited they were. "Walk in one line everyone, remember not to touch anything and not to bother anyone."

"Yes, miss y/l/n." They all said in unison. One of the mechanics was waiting for you with a smile on his face. He gave the kids a tour explaining everything to them, showed them the car, and pointed out the wings, and a few things about it. He explained how there's two sides to the garage but still it's one team and had one goal.

"Is this Max's car?" One of the kids asked, pointing at the car with the number 1 on it.

"Yes it is." It was Max who answered, he was dressed in his team kit, hat on and everything. "Do you want to sit inside?"

They all jumped up and down screaming yes. And so one by one, the kids were placed in the cockpit. They could barely see anything with how short they were, but they were excited nonetheless.

"Miss y/l/n, it's your turn." One of the boys looked up at you.

"Oh no, it's about you guys today, not me." You said and the kids all started begging you and Max and the people around for you to get in the car. "Kids come on, it's oka-ah." Hands around your waist pulled you up, your hands landed on Max's shoulder, legs bent as he moved you over the halo. "Max!" You playfully glare at Max and the kids, they all had proud smiles on their faces. You sit down in the car, it's a different feeling and view being in the car. "Maybe I should've continued karting."

"NO! you're our teacher!" One of the kids shouted.

“I feel like I have competition.” Max said and you laughed. Getting out of the car had Max helping you over the halo. His hands linger on your waist before he lets you go.

The kids watched FP1 and FP2 on the TV, they saw the car go by through the windows, Max and Checo made an appearance, the kids asked questions, took photos with the drivers in their suites. And had a small pitlane walk. By the time you were back at the school for the parents to come pick up the kids, you were dead. This was more tiring than the normal racing week and it’s only Friday.

Max is already at home, he showered and changed. “Hey, I got food on the way.”

“You didn’t eat.” You placed your work bag by the door, the cats are all over them. You walk into the living room to where Max sat. 

“I did, But I bet you didn’t.” Max says and you give him a tired smile, Max takes your hand in his intertwining your fingers.

“You’re an angel, I’ll take a quick shower.” Max lets you go, watching you trudge through the apartment and to  the bedroom. He goes around and lights up your favourite candles, and closes all the unnecessary lights. Giving the room a cosy and calming mood.  You come out of the shower just as the food arrives.

“Something smells good.” You say coming out of the bedroom, in shorts and one of Max’s shirts, your hair towel dried and left down.

“Got your favourite.” Max tells you and you plop down on the sofa next to him, he moves the coffee table closer so you could eat from your spot. “How was today?”

“So tiring, nothing compared to a normal day in school, I can never understand how they can have this much energy.” You say opening the containers.

“But they were happy, right?” Max asked you, feeling unsure, you grinned.

“So freaking happy, god max, you made their year, honestly.” You say and take a bite of your food and moan. “That’s all they’ll be talking about for the rest of the year.”

There’s a moment of comfortable silence as you eat, and Max just watched you. His hand runs up and down you back softly, absentmindedly.

“Can’t wait to have some of our own.” Max says, and even he looks surprised by his sudden words. “It’s just seeing you with kids, makes me imagine you one day holding our own kids, playing with them, you’ll be an amazing mum one day.”

“Are you trying to make me cry while I eat?” You ask him and slowly chew the last of the food in your mouth, waving your hand in front of your eyes to try and stop the tears from gathering.

“I’m just telling you the truth.” Max smiles softly as he watches you, you swallow and turn to look at him.

“Well if we’re being honest, you should know that I have the biggest baby fever lately.” You tell him and intertwin your fingers with his. “Seeing YOU with kids makes me want to have your babies so bad, can’t wait until I have a mini Max’s running around.”

“I want mini y/ns running around.” Max says and you both smile at each other. “Wamma practice?”

“What?” You’re confused. Practise what? Raising kids?

“Practise making kids.” Your eyes hold his in a steady gaze as you realise what he meant.

“Hmm, I would definitely be up to some practice.” You say and Max gets up and pulls up after him. You’re giggling as you race through the house, the cats look up from their sleeping spots before falling asleep once more.

Main Tag-list:

@gnatthefly . @mochimommy2002 . @llando4norris . @mrswolffs-blog . @barcelonaloverf1life . @c-losur3 . @xoscar03 . @schniti-is-in-the-house . @lottalove4evelyn . @eywas-heir . @glow-ish .

[st4rymoon]

✭ 𝐓𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 ✭

𝟏𝟖+ | 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭 | 𝐀𝐜𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐜 𝐑𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐬 | 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫-𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎'𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: a long read btw, arguing, impact play, academic rivals, slow burn, rough sex, hate sex, language, p in v, make out sesh, unprotected sex, annoying Miguel, reader has some anger issues on the low, breath play, teasing, sexual tension, semi-mean dom, after care

・Part two! Part Three!

“WHAT?” You yelled, both your professor and Miguel looking at you in shock after your professor asked you for a one on one with the both of you.

You could scoff at the way Miguel’s lips curled up into a satisfied smile “Well you and Miguel are my best students, so it would only make sense for the both of you to do a presentation together. I can only imagine the things the both of you will come up with!” Your annoyingly sweet professor clapped.

“ wouldn’t it be better if both of us did our own? We coul-“ You tried to negotiate “Ah ah! I said group project! Now Miguel, do you have anything to say about this? Any complaints like this one over here?”

You sighed as Miguel spoke “Nope, I’d be happy to work with someone in the same range as me” he cockily spoke “Very funny, now since we’ve got this all sorted, go and talk” she smiled, shooing you and Miguel out of the classroom.

You scoffed as you pushed past Miguel “Aww come on sweetheart, you hate me that much?” He cooed following close behind you.

“Shut it” you huffed. Getting paired with Miguel was possibly the worst thing to happen since your high school prom. Miguel was the bane of your existence since the first year of college.

Of course, his good looks and brains were attractive but sooner or later you realized he was going to be a pain in your ass for the next few months of class. You met him in your first biology class, everything was going well until the first exam of the class.

Your professor said the class average was low B’s and high C’s but out of the whole class, two people got perfect scores. Could you guess who the two were?

You and Miguel.

Both of you looked at each other from across the class with the same look in your eyes saying ‘Someone beat me?’. Of course, you both got the same 100% grade but both of you were so used to being the only one on top of the class that this was more than just a score. But your egos.

You both were fully aware to not be in each other's way, only seeing each other when studying at the same place or in class. All was going well for the next 2 exams, but the 3rd one came and you couldn’t believe it.

You got a 98% and Miguel has a perfect 100%. You could see him smile at the results and you hated the professor right now. Why the hell would he show the class? It’s embarrassing, to say the least.

Miguel gave you a wink as you looked his way ever so slightly. Bursting out of the class, you could feel him behind you “2 points down” he chuckled. You wish you would’ve punched him.

And ever since then, he’s made it his life mission to ruin your day. You never got anything other than 100% again, you busted your ass studying just so he couldn’t rub it in.

“I’ll make sure you can’t get us two points down” Miguel hummed as he kept up at your pace. You could feel your blood boiling, god he’s such an asshole. “I’ll email you if I need help” you scoffed.

“Can I get your number? I won’t get the email since my inbox is always spamming” Miguel lied with a smile “fine” you muttered out your number and walked off before he could stop you.

‘Real classy, I wasn’t done talking’ popped up on your screen “Well I am” you messaged back. You were well aware it was Miguel and you didn’t need him to piss you off more than usual.

The second you stepped into your apartment you let out a relieved sigh. Oh, how you missed this place in these insufferable hours. You put on some comfy panties and an oversized hoodie.

You were laid in your living room, soft carpet under you as you finished up some of the slides for your presentation. The knock at your door was the last thing you needed, you groaned in agony as you hated the thought of getting up from your warm spot.

The knocking grew and so did your patience’s “IM COMING!” You yelled. You pulled the door open and lo and behold, Miguel. “For fuck sake man” you whined.

“Glad to see you too!” He smiled as he pushed past you with books in hand. Miguel was born with the talent of hiding his emotions, that talent was most useful here.

He took a deep breath as you opened the door. Your pretty thighs glowing under the baggy hoodie, hair a slight mess and the satisfying look of anger on your face could’ve made him harm.

“Excuse you” you hissed.

He plotted down next to your things and got straight to work. You stood in shock, did he just walk in like this was his house? “Well go ahead and get comfortable” you mocked as you slammed the door in annoyance.

“I am” he sighed as he stretched and leaned onto your couch.

The both of you bickered and sneered at each other the whole time you both worked but even then, the quality was always top-notch.

He didn’t like the way you formatted the information and you didn’t like how he took up a whole slide for a few sentences but both of you compromised. After a few hours, things were less tense, and both of you got used to each other.

“So what do you plan on doing with your major?” You asked, legs crossed and some candy in your mouth as you questioned him “Biochemist” he nodded “It’s always been a passion of mine”

“You sure do have the brains for it” you chuckled. “You don’t with the 98%” he teased. You rolled your eyes, your mood now soured as you remembered his shenanigans.

“Don’t start” you scoff as you get up to get some drinks “Hey hey I’m joking” he laughs, his hand stopping you from leaving as he holds your wrist “I know Sherlock, I’m going to get some drinks for us” you mutter with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah,” he laughed awkwardly, his eyes watching as you grabbed two glasses of water. “So what about you?” Miguel asked “What are you doing with a chemistry major”

“Probably chemical engineering, I’m not sure yet” You shrugged as you handed him the cup. He nodded and watched you sit next to him. Miguel scooted a little closer making you stiffen, sure he was a pain in the ass but he’s sadly one of the most gorgeous guys you’ve seen.

You tried to ignore your thoughts each time he’d stretch and groan, his moans making you think about how he’d sound if it were from pleasure. He’d be vocal you thought.

“Let’s watch something on the TV” you awkwardly smiled as you grabbed the remote and turned on your TV, you laid on your stomach, forgetting you only had panties and a hoodie.

Miguel’s eyes watched you kick your feet up, your glowy legs looking perfect as you looked through whatever you were putting on.

He noticed the pink panties you had on, his tongue instinctively licking his bottom lip as he thought about how good you’d look on top of him. He can imagine it, tits in his face and pussy sleeving his cock as he fucked you full.

He was going to give himself a boner if he kept it up. He focused his eyes on the screen and sighed in relief as you sat back up. You put on your favorite show and sat next to Miguel “We’re almost done with the assignment which is good, how about a few more minutes of break and we get back to work?” You smiled. “Sure”

You felt his hand move behind you, his arm resting above the couch as he let out yet again another ‘stretch’ while his eyes looked at you through his peripheral, you chuckled. How cliche.

You smiled as you decided to make your cliche move. It was obvious there was tension between you two, whether that be anger or sexual, it didn’t matter. “Let me get more gummies” you hummed as you turned to the table beside you and arched your back slightly, an audible moan coming from behind you as your ass was on perfect display.

You sat back beside him, gummies in hand and an innocent look on your face as you offered him some. He scoffed, shaking his head and looking back at the TV. Your eyes widened as you noticed the thick bulge straining against his pants.

“Eyes up” Miguel cockily cooed as he watched your eyes closely. “I- I wasn’t-“You made a pathetic attempt to save yourself but he cut you off “Uh huh uh huh, I know” he mocked.

He smiled down at you with accomplishment, he finally made you shut up for once. “Not going to give me a snarky comeback?” He cooed. “Shut up already God, stop it” you hissed, your eyes rolling as you moved away from him.

“No no” Miguel’s voice made you shiver as his hand held your thigh “I’m playing” he pouted as he glared down at you. You could punch him right but instead, you did something you thought you’d never do.

You pushed him on the couch and slammed your lips on his. Miguel’s hands immediately wrapped around your waist, a loud moan spilling into your mouth as he finally tasted you.

It seemed like Miguel was waiting for you to do this, his hands ran up your thighs hungrily before he flipped you onto your back. You gasped as he spread your legs around his waist.

His behemoth of a body spread your legs wide as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. You tangled your fingers into his hair as both of you hungrily kissed each other.

The kisses were messy and rough, teeth nipping at skin and tongues lapping at each other like two animals in heat. None of you even said a word, just heavy breaths, moans, and pure lust.

Suddenly Miguel pulled back from your lips, his eyes glaring into yours as he hovered above you. You could feel yourself getting ready for some snarky comment as you watched his lips curve into a smile.

“You kissed me first”

You groaned as you pushed him off, his hands still on your hips as he flipped you back onto his lap “hey I’m not complaining, It’s just funny since I piss you of so much” he sighed. His palm moved up to your jaw, face brushing against his hand as you took in his warmth.

He watched you lean into his palm like a cat, his body heating up as he realized how small you look in his lap. Your thighs small compared to his but still plump and pretty.

“Can I kiss you again” you shyly asked slightly afraid that he’s reject. “You don’t have to ask me, just do it” Miguel hummed as he pulled you into a kiss.

The kisses were now more sensual and soft, both of you now grinding into each other. His hand curled onto the back of your neck; the other palm pinned behind your spine.

You were glued onto his chest as Miguel’s warmth filled your senses. You’ve never been so warm in your life, the feeling making you tingly as he held you as close as possible. It felt like nothing in the world could hurt you, you felt safe.

“Please” you whispered onto his lips. He tried to not make you mad but he loved seeing you angry “Please what?” He taunts, his lips hovering over your jaw and neck but never touching you.

“Mig don’t tease” you whined as you hit his chest lightly “I’m not, I just don’t know what you’re saying please for” his arms clinging around your waist as he takes in your sweet scent.

You decided to play your games “I want you inside me mig, want to show you how much I need you” you cooed, your hand running down his abdomen and stopping just above his bulge. His breath hitched at your words, he didn’t know if you were fucking with him or not.

“Oh yeah?” Miguel watched you with focused eyes, his hands running up the sides of your thighs and squeezing your ass “You want me to fuck some manners into you? That loud fucking mouth of yours is always pissing me off” he cooed.

Loud fucking mouth? Your hand went up to smack his face in anger but he caught your wrist before you could “Don’t even try it muñeca.” He sternly said “You won’t like what comes with that”

You angrily kissed him as he pressed you flush against his aching cock, his hands pull the baggy hoodie off your body leaving you in your matching panties and bra.

“Fuck” he whispered, hands on your waist as he took in the view he’s been dreaming of since the day he met you. The amount of times he’d imagine fucking your mouth until you shut up was concerning.

You pulled his shirt off in need, throwing it behind you as you ran your hands up his thick muscular chest. He hummed at your soft hands running up his skin.

“Sit up for me?” He mumbled against your skin as he kicked off his sweats. He smiled at how obediently you did as he said “You look prettier when you do as I say” Miguel mocked.

You could care less about his words as his calloused hands pulled your panties off in need “Just shut up and fuck me” you panted. Miguel smiled as he felt your lips pepper all over his jaw and onto his lips, he could see you were just as eager for him as he was for you.

“Beg” he blurted. You ignored him as you rubbed his cock between your folds, both of you letting out moans as you felt each other's warmth. Miguel seethed, arms pinning you up to his chest “Listen”

You hated that you got turned on by the fact that he now had you restricted with just one hand as the other held your jaw up “you want the guy you despise to fuck you? You tell me you hate me every time you see me but look so eager to fuck me”

You were tired of his teasing, you let out a desperate whine, you could see his cock spring up and his tip leaking precum. But like always, Miguel likes to rile you up.

“Beg” he repeated. “Please mig please, just stop teasing ok” you cried. “All you needed to listen to was this?” He purred, hands moving onto your hips as he thrusts into you.

Miguel let out a gruntled moan as he felt your warm wet walls hug him tight, his head falling back onto the couch as he finally felt your pussy squeeze him.

He watched your eyes squeeze shut while you let out the prettiest moans “f- fuck!” You cried, the stretch making you clench even tighter around him as he held you down to his lap.

His cock was fully buried inside you in one go, he’s the biggest you’ve had in every way. It was overwhelming feeling how full you were, you could feel his curves and the tip of his cock nudging at your cervix.

“Breath chula, r- relax” he sighed. Your nails dug into his shoulders as you nodded, you took a deep breath allowing you to make it easier for him to move. “That’s it” he hummed onto your shoulder.

It only took Miguel a few seconds for him to start fucking you onto his lap, your body shaping into his hands, allowing him to use your pussy like a flesh light.

“O- Mig mi-“ you whined out, you couldn’t explain what you were feeling. Your whole body was tingling in pleasure as he rammed into you with pure force. Maybe you did piss him off a lot.

“What? You c- can’t take it? Such a big fucking mouth but can’t take my dick?” He seethed. You let out a pathetic whine at his words, your mind completely fogged in pleasure as you took all of him.

Miguel’s eyes couldn’t leave your pussy, his eyebrows scrunched and his mouth agar as he watched your pussy struggling to take his size. He hissed as you pushed him onto the couch, using his shoulders for support as you bounced onto his lap.

Your pretty moans filled his ears as you took control. Miguel let you take control for a bit, he loved watching how eager you rode him. Your body bounces on his lap, wet sounds of skin slapping echoing into the room.

“Making such a fucking mess” he huffed with a smile on his face, although he was loving this, he wanted to see you completely vulnerable. He thought maybe he was a little sick for wanting to see someone who hated him so much completely ruined under him but he loved it.

You gasped as Miguel lifted you onto the ground, your back hit the soft carpet under you as he stayed buried inside you. “Gotta fuck that stupid little attitude out honey, always disrespecting me. You’re the only one who tries to push my buttons. I love it” he cooed.

Miguel’s calloused hands bend your legs to the side, giving him full access to your tight cunt. “Go- god shi- fuck!” Miguel panted, he was a complete fucking mess.

Sure Miguel’s fucked a few people in his life, but he had no idea if it was just the thought of fucking the life out of you or how perfect your body was for him. He convinced himself it was both.

You clawed and scratched at his chest, your eyes full of tears as he brutally pounded into your “m- Mig I-“You were even more fucked out than him. How couldn’t you?

You had no clue where he got his stamina from, it felt like he’d been fucking you for hours. “Can’t believe you tried to slap me, should I return the favor?” Miguel hissed.

You nodded to his surprise “Please” you whined. “You want me to hit you?” He was surprised by your plead. He knew you’d be a freak in the sheets but you were always so aggressive with him that he expected you to hit him for even suggesting it.

“You’re always a pain in my ass but you just want to be taken care of huh?… What? You need me to pound your pretty pussy out for you to treat me with some respect?”

You nodded eagerly, if you were being honest you couldn’t even take in his words. Your pussy clenched and throbbed around his fat cock in agony but you were taken by surprise when a slap landed on your face “Use your words” he hissed.

Almost immediately you cried “Yes yes! Miguel please I nee- need it, f- fuck ah!”

Miguel chuckled, his hips angled a bit higher which allowed him to hit the perfect stop. His hand flew around your throat, his hips pounding you onto the floor as he let out animalistic moans.

“M- Mig- ah fff- fuckk!” You cried. The restriction of your breathing mixed with his rough pounds caused orgasm hit you hard as your pussy throbbed around him, the tip of his cock nudging at your sweet spot continuously.

Miguel’s eyes rolled back as he felt your nails claw at his arms, your small hand wrapped around his wrist as he fucked you balls deep. His cock plunged into your messy cunt as his balls slapped onto you. “That’s I- that’s-“ he hissed.

He thought about pulling out for both of your sakes but he’d rather just buy you a plan B. “C- can I- inside?” He seethed his eyes burning into yours as you bounced to his thrusts.

You couldn’t get a word out but your legs wrapping around his waist and your nails digging into his back to pull him closer gave him the answer. His lips crashed onto yours as he spilled inside you, his moans spilling into your mouth as his fingers dug into your hips.

He’s never had an orgasm that hard, he was sweating and out of breath as he stilled inside you. The both of you cling onto each other in fear of either of you leaving but that was on the last of your minds.

Miguel lay beside you, his arms pulling you into his as he pressed a kiss onto your forehead. “Was I too rough?” He questioned with concern as he now fully took in how fucked out you looked. “No, it was perfect” you weakly muttered as you nuzzled into his chest.

Miguel sighed in relief as your sweaty body was pinned into his. “Where’s your bedroom?” He hummed as he began to lift you into his arms “left” you sighed as he carried you into your bedroom.

“Let me clean us up and then we can rest yeah? Unless you want me to leav-“

You cut him off before he couldn’t finish “Don’t leave. Please?.” You hummed a bit worried you sounded a little pathetic.

“Wasn’t planning on it love”

[itneverendshere]

played me like a clarinet - rafe cameron (three) - finale

request: "Desperately-on my knees-begging for a ''She's all that'' from 1999, with Popular Rafe x Reader. Ooouff, and you want that soul crushing heartbreak when she finds out about the bet he had made" pairing: rafe x smart!nerdy!reader. warnings: more angst <3; part one here; part two

Staying away from Rafe was hard.

It was hard before you two tried to be friends and it’s even harder now that you gave him the no-contact ultimatum. Everywhere you went, it felt like he was there, even if he wasn’t. It was in the songs that played on the radio, in the way the sun set over the patio near your dorm, in the way his, now yours, shirts still smelled like him. 

You missed the late-night conversations, the way he’d laugh at your jokes, and how he could read you better than anyone else. But more than anything, you missed the way he made you feel—even if it wasn’t real at first. 

Every time your phone buzzed, you stupidly hoped it was him, even though you knew it wouldn’t be. You’d told him to stop, to leave you alone, and he had respected your boundaries even when it seemed like the last thing he wanted to do. And you’re proud of him for it—for once, he’s doing something right. But you’re mostly proud of yourself too, for sticking to your decision, for not letting him back in so easily.

Still, it doesn’t make it any easier.

You thought giving yourself space would help you move on, help you figure out if you could ever really trust him again. But instead, it just left this space where he used to be. You kept wondering how much of it was real for him—if any of it was. Maybe that’s why staying away felt impossible because a part of you wanted to believe he meant some of it, that his feelings weren’t just part of some game. 

You had to draw the line, to protect yourself from getting hurt all over again. And even though it hurt to keep him out, you knew it was the only way you’d figure out what you really wanted, without him clouding your judgment.

You tried to move on.

Slowly, cautiously, you started going on dates—nothing serious, just enough to remind yourself that there were other people out there, that Rafe wasn’t the only guy who could make you laugh or feel special. Every few weeks, you’d let yourself get dressed up, put on a smile, and meet someone new.

The first date was awkward, more like a practice run than anything else. You spent most of it comparing the guy to Rafe, noticing all the little things that didn’t measure up. It wasn’t fair to the guy, but you couldn’t help it. He wasn’t Rafe, and that’s all you could focus on. You ended the night with a polite hug and a promise to text, but you knew you wouldn’t.

The second date was better, but not by much. The guy was nice, made you laugh a few times, but there was no spark, no connection that made you want to see him again. You tried to be present, to give him a chance, but your mind kept drifting back to Rafe, to what he would say or how he would react to something. By the end of the night, you felt more exhausted than excited.

After that, you took a break. It was too soon, you told yourself. You weren’t ready to move on yet, and that was okay. 

Some days, you almost reached out to him. You’d pick up your phone, scroll through your messages, and your finger would hover over his name. It would be so easy to send a quick text, something casual, just to see how he was doing. But you never did. You knew that one message could ruinl everything you’d worked so hard to build—the distance, the boundaries, the fragile sense of self you were trying to protect.

Instead, you threw yourself into other things. Classes, the cheer squad, hobbies, anything to keep your mind occupied. You spent more time with friends, even though it was hard not to talk about him. You kept the conversations light, steering away from anything that would bring his name up. You didn’t want to be that person who couldn’t stop talking about their ex, who couldn’t let go, even if that’s exactly how you felt inside.

It helped, sometimes.

For brief moments, you’d find yourself genuinely laughing at a joke or losing yourself in a book or a project. But then something small would happen—a song on the radio, a glimpse of someone who looked like him, or the sound of his name in passing—and it would all come rushing back. It wasn’t fair. 

You’d think you’d be used to it by now, but each time it felt like a fresh wound. The memory of his laughter, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, the way he always knew just what to say—it was as if he left a ghost behind, haunting every corner of your life. And in those moments when you’d catch yourself smiling or feeling light, it was like a betrayal. How could you allow yourself to feel joy when he wasn’t there to share it?

It was like trying to run from a shadow that moved with you, always there, no matter how fast you tried to go.

Every time you thought about him, about how he had hurt you and how you were struggling to move on, it felt like stabbing at an old wound, hoping it would heal faster if you just made it worse. The reality was that you missed him in ways you weren’t ready to admit.

Running into him was inevitable. Despite your best efforts to avoid the places he might be, your college was too small, too intertwined with memories of him.

The first time you saw him after the ultimatum was at a party you had reluctantly agreed to attend. You spotted him across the room, laughing with his friends, looking just as carefree as ever. Your heart twisted painfully in your chest, and for a moment, you felt stuck to the ground. But then he looked up, his eyes meeting yours, and the smile slipped from his face.

It was a small moment, one that no one else seemed to notice, but it felt like the all the air in your lungs had been sucked out. You forced yourself to look away, to focus on the conversation happening around you, but it was impossible to ignore the feeling of his eyes on you.

The second time was worse.

You were at the grocery store, just trying to get through your day when you turned a corner and nearly collided with him. The shock of seeing him so close, so unexpectedly, made you want to disappear on the spot.

You both mumbled awkward apologies, neither of you really saying anything of substance, just trying to avoid the awkwardness. But then he asked how you were.

“I’m fine,” you replied, too quickly, too sharply. The lie tasted bitter on your tongue.

He nodded, and for a moment, it looked like he wanted to say more, to reach out and touch you, but he didn’t. You both stood there, trapped in a painful silence, before you finally made an excuse and walked away, leaving him standing there in the aisle.

After that, the encounters became more frequent. You saw him at the beach, in coffee shops, passing by on the street. Each time, it was the same—an awkward exchange, a few forced pleasantries, and then a quick retreat. It was like the universe was conspiring against you, refusing to give you the space you so desperately needed.

And each time, it hurt just a little bit more. Seeing him in these mundane, everyday moments, like nothing had changed, made it harder to keep up the distance you’d built. It reminded you of all the times when being around him had felt natural, easy, like he was just supposed to be there.

But the worst part was the way he looked at you. Jessica had told you before. He’d never looked at any girl like that. And you stupidly held onto that tiny hope even if you shouldn’t. 

You’d been trying to keep it together all night, but the sight of Jessica and Tyler laughing together, so effortlessly in love, was making you bleed inside. The drinks kept coming, one after another, until the room started to blur around you. You didn’t even notice how much you were drinking—only that it was easier to keep swallowing than to think about Rafe. 

But the alcohol wasn’t enough to quiet your thoughts.

Instead, it seemed to amplify them, making everything feel sharper, more painful. Jessica and Tyler’s whispered words of affection, the way his hand rested on her thigh, the way she looked at him with pure adoration—You couldn’t stop thinking about how that should have been you and Rafe.  

By the time you realized you were too far gone, it was late. You stumbled as you stood up, the room spinning wildly around you. Someone—Jessica, maybe—asked if you were okay, but their voice was muffled, distant. You tried to nod, to say something reassuring, but your legs buckled beneath you, sending you crashing back into your chair.

"Whoa, easy there," Jessica’s voice was sharper now, filled with concern. She crouched down in front of you, her hands steadying you. “You’re not okay. We need to get you out of here.”

You tried to shake your head, to insist that you were fine, but the words wouldn’t come. The room was tilting, spinning, and you couldn’t focus on anything. Your vision was blurry, your limbs heavy, and you realized, with a sinking feeling, that you were too drunk to take care of yourself. You couldn’t even stand up, let alone make it home.

Panic started to set in. This wasn’t supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to lose control like this. You weren’t supposed to need help.

“Jess… I’m fine…” The words slurred out of your mouth, but even you didn’t believe them.

“No, you’re not.” Jessica’s voice was firm now, almost authoritative. She glanced around, clearly trying to figure out what to do. The other girls were watching, their laughter fading into worried murmurs, “Baby, can you go and get her some water and sugar, please?”

She gently guided you to lean back, her hand on your shoulder to steady you. You tried to focus, tried to push through the fog in your mind, but everything was slipping away, your thoughts swirling together in a jumbled mess.

“Hey, stay with me, okay?” Her voice was softer now, almost pleading. She wasn’t just a concerned friend at this moment; she was scared. You’d never seen her like this before. 

“I—” You started, but the words tangled in your throat. You wanted to tell her that you were sorry, that you didn’t mean to ruin the night, that you just wanted to stop thinking about him for a couple of hours, but all that came out was a garbled sound that barely resembled a word.

“Shh, it’s okay,” she soothed, her thumb brushing lightly against your arm. “We’ll get you out of here. It’s gonna be okay.”

Tyler returned with the water and sugar, and Jessica took the glass, trying to get you to drink. The water felt cool against your lips, but swallowing was harder than it should’ve been. You could feel yourself teetering on the edge of consciousness.

“Come on, just a little more,” Jessica urged. You managed a few more sips before the glass slipped from your grasp, water sloshing onto your lap.

“Jess, I—” You tried again, but before you could finish, you heard another voice, one that sent a jolt through your foggy mind.

He was there, right in front of you, and you knew it was him without needing to open your eyes.

“Jesus Christ,” you heard him mutter. He crouched down, gently lifting your chin so you were forced to meet his eyes. “What the hell happened?”

“She had too much to drink,” Jessica explained quickly, her tone defensive, as if she expected him to start blaming her. “We were just about to get her out of here.”

You tried to smile, to play it off like it was no big deal, but all that came out was a shaky breath. “Too much… too much, Rafe…”

“I can see that,” he said, his tone softening as he brushed a strand of hair from your face. He turned to Jessica, his voice all business now. 

You didn’t know how long he had been standing there. Was your brain torturing you? Making you believe he was there?

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he knelt down beside you, his hands grabbing your trembling ones. “Hey,” he said, his voice softer now, as if he was afraid you might break into pieces if he spoke too loudly. “I’m gonna get you home, okay?”

You wanted to say no, to tell him that you didn’t need him, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you just nodded, too tired and too dizzy to fight it.

He exchanged a look with Jessica and she sighed, her worry morphing into something closer to relief. “I’ll help you get her to the car.”

Your legs were useless, and you sagged heavily against his chest. He didn’t hesitate, scooping you up in his arms like you weighed nothing, cradling you against him. His scent surrounded you, familiar and comforting, and despite everything, you found yourself leaning into him, letting your head rest against his shoulder.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his breath warm against your temple. “I’m gonna get you out of here, okay?”

You nodded weakly, too exhausted to argue. Your eyes fluttered shut as he carried you out, the sounds of the party fading away behind you.

The ride to your dorm was a blur. 

You were vaguely aware of Rafe’s arm around you, of Jessica sitting on your other side, rubbing your back in small circles. The motion of the car made your stomach churn, and you had to close your eyes to keep from getting sick. Uber or not, you weren’t about to ruin someone else’s car. 

When you finally arrived, he practically carried you inside while Jess fumbled with your keys before pushing the door open.

He led you to your bed, easing you down onto the mattress.

“I’ll stay with her,” he muttered, his voice leaving no room for argument. Jessica hesitated, looking between the two of you, before nodding slowly.

“Call me if you need anything,” she said to Rafe, squeezing his arm before she left.

You were barely aware of her leaving, still too drunk to process much of anything. He knelt down beside your bed, brushing a stray hair from your face. 

“You’re gonna be okay,” he murmured, his voice a soothing lullaby.

You wanted to say something, to tell him that you didn’t need him, that you were fine on your own.

You felt your bottom lip tremble. 

He noticed the change immediately, his blue eyes softening as he continued to gently brush the hair from your face. “Hey, it’s okay,” he whispered, his thumb lightly tracing the curve of your jaw. “Just breathe.”

But that only made it worse. You could feel the tears welling up as you realized just how much you’d missed this—missed him. The safety of his presence, the way he always seemed to know what you needed before you did.

Your stomach churned, the nausea that had been building since you first sat in the car finally reaching a breaking point.

“Rafe,” you mumbled, your voice weak and shaky, “I think I’m gonna—”

He reacted instantly, his arms tightening around you as he quickly looked the room. “Okay, okay, just breathe,” he said, “You’re gonn be fine.”

But breathing was the last thing on your mind as the room started spinning faster. You tried to push away from him, your hand gripping his shirt as you fought to keep it down.

“Rafe, I need to throw up,” you managed to gasp, panic rising in your chest.

He didn’t hesitate, scooping you up from the bed and hurrying toward the bathroom. You barely registered the fact he was touching you again after so long, your mind solely focused on the nausea.

He got you to the bathroom just in time, guiding you to the toilet as you collapsed in front of it. He held your hair back with one hand, the other rubbing soothing circles on your back as you retched, the sound of it echoing harshly in the small space.

“It’s okay, I’m right here,” he murmured, grounding you as you emptied your stomach. You could feel the heat of his hand on your back, the gentle way he kept your hair out of the way.

When it was over, you slumped against the cool porcelain, too exhausted to care about anything other than the relief of having the nausea finally subside. Rafe handed you a damp washcloth, and you pressed it against your face, the coolness soothing against your overheated skin.

“Better?” he asked softly, crouching down beside you. 

You nodded weakly, unable to meet his eyes. “Yeah,” you whispered, your voice hoarse. “Thanks.”

He didn’t say anything, just stayed close, while you avoided his gaze entirely. The room was quiet now, the only sound the slow, steady rhythm of your breathing as you tried to regain some control.

“I’m sorry.”

You felt embarrassed, and vulnerable in a way you hadn’t expected, and you hated every second of it.

“Stop apologizing,” Rafe said gently, his hand still resting on your back. 

“Can you… can you stay over?” 

You didn’t want to be alone, not tonight, not with the way your heart was aching.

Rafe’s eyes softened, the way they did only for you, and for a moment, you thought he might agree, that he might stay and help you forget, even just for a little while. 

But then he shook his head, his expression pained.

“I can’t,” he said, his voice strained, like it hurt him to say it. “You know I can’t, sweets.”

You tried to hold it together, but it was no use. Before you could stop yourself, you were crying—quiet, heartbreaking sobs that you couldn’t control.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered as he reached out, brushing the tears from your cheeks, but it only made you cry harder. “I’m so sorry.”

You couldn’t even respond, the words tangled up in your throat. It wasn’t just that he wouldn’t stay; it was everything—the confusion, the heartbreak, the way you felt like you were losing him all over again, even though he was right there in front of you.

“Please don’t cry,” Rafe pleaded, his voice breaking. He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against him. “I hate seeing you like this.”

You buried your face in his chest, the sobs shaking your entire body. The warmth of his touch, the familiar scent of him—it was too much, too close to everything you’d been trying to avoid. But you couldn’t pull away. You didn’t want to.

“I just… I just miss you,” you choked out, the words spilling from you in a broken whisper. “I miss you so much, Rafe.”

“I know,” he murmured, his voice cracking. “I miss you too.”

You clung to him, your fingers gripping his shirt like it was the only thing keeping him from disappearing. The tears wouldn’t stop, and neither would the ache in your chest, the one that had been there ever since you’d forced yourself to let him go.

“I wish things were different,” his usually bright eyes were dimmed, his brows drew together as if he was in pain. He looked at you like he was memorizing every detail, like he was afraid this might be the last time, “I keep hurting you.”

His hands trembled slightly as he pulled back just enough to look at you, his touch gentle as his fingers cradled your face. His thumbs brushed away the tears again, but they kept coming, fresh and spilling over. His lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but all that came out was a ragged breath.

“Please don’t hate me more for this,” he whispered, his voice rough, barely holding back. His eyes searched yours, desperate for reassurance, for something to cling to in this moment that felt like it was tearing you both apart.

“I could never hate you,” you whispered back, the words catching in your throat as the tears continued to fall. It hurt to say it, to admit it out loud.

He left that night.

You had almost convinced yourself that it was better this way, that moving on, that he did you a favor that night by leaving, that keeping him out of your life was the only solution. 

Staying away from you was killing him. 

⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ

Rafe spent his days trying to distract himself, throwing himself into his studies for the first time in his life, into parties, into anything that would take his mind off you. 

But nothing worked. Every time he saw something that reminded him of you, it was like a punch to the gut—a song you liked, a place you used to go together, even the smell of the ocean would bring memories crashing back. He missed you so much it hurt.

And when he saw you, it was even worse. The first time he ran into you after the break, it felt like the world had stopped spinning. He was at a party, trying to forget, trying to lose himself in the noise and the crowd, when he saw you across the room. For a moment, he thought he was imagining it, that his mind was playing tricks on him. But then your eyes met his, and his heart almost stopped.

You were as beautiful as ever, maybe even more so, but there was something different about you—something guarded, distant. But before he could even think about crossing the room to talk to you, you looked away, your expression closing off, leaving him standing there like an idiot, staring after you. 

He’d told you he’d wait for you and he intended on keeping that promise. He couldn’t stop imagining what it would be like to have you back, to hold you, to tell you how much he loved you, how sorry he was. He’d never felt this way about anyone before, never been this wrecked over a girl, but you weren’t just any girl. 

Rafe had never been good at groveling, at admitting he was wrong, but for you, he’d do anything. He’d get on his knees and beg if that’s what it took. He didn’t care about his pride anymore, not when it meant losing you. He was willing to do whatever it took to make things right, to prove to you that he was serious, that he loved you more than he ever thought possible.

But every time he saw you, he felt that hope slipping further away. The look in your eyes, the way you avoided him, it all felt like a final nail in the coffin. And yet, he couldn’t let go, couldn’t stop himself from yearning for you, from wanting you back in his life. He was going out of his mind, torn between respecting your wishes and fighting for you with everything he had.

Rafe knew he had to do something different, something that would show you just how much he had changed. The problem was, he didn't know what that was. He needed to find a way to prove to you that he was serious, that he was willing to put in the work to make things right.

So he started small.

He stopped going to parties, and stopped trying to drown out his feelings in distractions. Instead, he focused on becoming the person he thought you deserved—the person he knew he could be if he just tried. He started paying more attention in class, showing up on time, and actually studying. He even started volunteering, something he’d never done before, just to keep his mind occupied with something productive, something that wasn’t about him for once.

But the real change came when he began working on himself. He started seeing a therapist, something he’d always scoffed at before. He had a lot of baggage, a lot of unresolved issues that had driven him to hurt you in the first place, and he knew he needed to work through them if he ever wanted to be good enough for you.

It wasn’t easy. Therapy forced him to confront things he’d buried deep, things he’d avoided dealing with for years. Family trauma and all. But he stuck with it, because he knew it was the only way to get better, to be the kind of man you could trust again.

Slowly, he started to see changes in himself. He was more patient, more understanding, and more aware of how his actions affected others. He didn’t expect you to notice any of it—he was doing it for himself as much as for you—but he hoped that maybe, just maybe, you’d see that he was trying.

And then he had to pick you up that night.

He had never seen you drunk before, you’d always preferred your fruity punch over any other alcoholic drink. He’d always known you as strong, independent, someone who could hold your own. Seeing you like that—broken, hurting—made something in him snap. Was this his fault? Had he done this to you? 

He knew he couldn’t stay that night. As much as it killed him to leave, he understood that this was part of growing too—the part where he learned to respect your boundaries, to give you space even when all he wanted was to hold you and never let go. You’d hate yourself the next day. He was doing you both a favor. 

The next morning, Rafe didn’t text or call. He wanted to give you time, to process everything without the pressure of him hovering. Instead, he threw himself back into his routine, keeping himself busy but always with you at the back of his mind. He wondered if you remembered anything from the night before—how close he’d come to breaking down when you asked him to stay, how it had taken every ounce of self-control to walk away from you again.

Days passed, and he didn’t hear from you. It felt like a new kind of torture, but he stayed strong, if this was part of the process then so be it, he needed to be patient. 

He didn’t want to push you, didn’t want to make you feel like you owed him anything. But he couldn’t stop hoping that maybe, just maybe, you were thinking about him too.

So when the call came that you were in the hospital, his heart nearly fell through his ass. He didn’t think, didn’t hesitate—he just went.

The thought of you being hurt, of something happening to you, was enough to make him speed over the legal limit. He needed to see you, to make sure you were okay, even if it was the last thing he did.

When he got there, his heart clenched tightly in his chest as he pushed through the doors of the hospital. He hated hospitals, hated everything about them—the smell, the sterile white walls. But none of that mattered now. All he could think about was you.

The nurse at the front desk directed him to your room, and he practically sprinted down the hallway, his mind racing with a thousand worst-case scenarios. He’d been too fucking anxious to ask if you were okay, as soon as your name and the word hospital registered, he was rushing over. When he finally reached your door, he paused, his hand hovering over the doorknob. What if you didn’t want to see him? What if you told him to leave?

But then he heard your pretty voice, soft and familiar. He pushed open the door and there you were, sitting up in the hospital bed with a sprained ankle, looking more frustrated than hurt. He breathed out in relief, so intensely it made his knees weak.

“Rafe?” you blurted out, your eyes widening in surprise as you saw him standing there. “What are you doing here?”

He took a step closer, “They called me. I’m still your emergency contact.”

“Oh,” you muttered, looking down at your hands. “I didn’t realize.”

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, but he could see the tension in your shoulders, the way you were trying to hold it together. “It’s just a sprained ankle. Nothing serious. Did a little too much during practice."

Rafe nodded, but he didn’t move, didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. The sight of you in that hospital bed, even for something as minor as a sprained ankle killed him. 

“Hey,” you said softly, your voice pulling him out of his thoughts. “You don’t have to stay. I’m fine. Really.”

But he couldn’t leave. Not now, not when you were right in front of him, looking so small and vulnerable. He shook his head, his voice coming out rougher than before, “I’m not leaving.”

You blinked up at him, “But you don’t have to—”

“I’m not leaving,” he repeated, his voice firm. “I know you can handle yourself, but I’m staying.”

Surprisingly, you didn’t kick him out.  “Okay.”

He pulled up a chair beside your bed, settling in like he had no intention of going anywhere. The room was quiet, the only sound the faint beeping of the machines and the murmur of voices from the hallway outside. For a moment, neither of you said anything.  It was strange, being this close yet so far away from you. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, taking in the way yours had softened, the way the lines of worry on your face were starting to smooth out. You looked tired like you’d been lacking sleep. He wished he could help, even if just for a little while.

“You know,” he said quietly, breaking the silence, “I used to think I was pretty good at taking care of myself. But then I met you, and I realized I’d never really let anyone take care of me before. Not like you did.”

“Rafe—”

“No, let me finish,” he interrupted gently, “I’m still here. I’ll always be here, even if all I can do is sit in a hospital room with you and make sure you’re okay.”

You looked down at your hands, a small, sad smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“I missed you,” you whispered, the words so quiet he almost didn’t hear them.

His breath caught in his throat, his heart squeezing painfully at the admission. “I missed you too,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion.

“Thank you for that night.”

He shifted slightly in his chair, leaning a little closer, careful not to overwhelm you but needing to be nearer all the same.

“I didn’t do anything special,” he murmured, though his mind replayed the events of that night. The helplessness he’d felt seeing you in that state, knowing there was little he could do to make it better. He hadn’t been sure then if you’d even wanted him there, but he’d helped you anyway. He couldn’t leave you, not when you needed someone—when you needed him.

“You were there,” a tear slipped down your cheek, and he instinctively reached out, his thumb gently wiping it away. The touch was soft, almost reverent, and it made your breath get stuck in your throat.  “That’s more than enough.”

You leaned into his touch for a moment, savoring the comfort it brought, even though it hurt to let yourself feel it, “Just glad you’re safe.”

“Why did you come?”

“Because I love you,” he admitted, tired of carrying the truth inside him, “I know I screwed up—God, I know that. But I’ve spent every day since trying to be better, trying to be the kind of man you deserve. And I know I have a long way to go, but I’m not giving up. Not on you. Not unless you ask me to.”

“You love me?”

Your voice sounded so meek, so unsure it made him want to punch himself in the face. This was entirely his doing. 

He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. He looked nervous, and vulnerable, “Yeah,” he said, “I do. I’m in love with you, I just—” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “I didn’t know how to say it, or maybe I was too scared to. Didn’t want to make you think I was saying it to save my ass, y’know?”

You’d always wondered what it would be like to hear those words from him, to have him admit that he cared for you in the same way you cared for him. 

“I didn’t want to push you,” he continued, fingers intertwined, “But I couldn’t keep it in anymore. I couldn’t let you think that I didn’t care, that I didn’t want this, want you.”

You blinked, trying to process everything he was saying. This was the Rafe you’d always hoped for—the one who was honest and unafraid to show his emotions. But it was also the Rafe who had hurt you, who had made mistakes that left scars you weren’t sure had fully healed.

“Rafe, I—” you started, but the words caught in your throat.

“You don’t have to say it, sweets. It’s okay.”

“I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice shaking. “I’m scared of getting hurt again, of going back to that place where everything fell apart.”

He had changed—you could see it in the way he carried himself, in the way he spoke to you. He wasn’t the same Rafe who had hurt you.

"I’m not asking you to trust me right away," he continued, though there was a hint of desperation in it. "I know I need to earn that. But please, give me a chance to prove it. I don’t want to lose you again."

"You can’t wait for me forever.”

“I’d wait for you a lifetime. I told you,” His jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck tensing when he spoke, as if he was trying not to cry, “If you ever want me, I’m yours.”

His hands, usually so restless, were still now, resting on his knees as he leaned slightly forward in his chair. You saw the man he was trying to be—the man he wanted to be for you. He wasn’t perfect, not by a long shot, but he was trying. And that had to count for something.

“Even if I made you wait until we’re eighty and grey?”

Rafe let out a breathless laugh, the sound strained but genuine, “Even then,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. “You’re it for me.”

It scared you how much you wanted to believe him, how much you wanted to pull him into your arms and tell him that he was it for you too. He reached out, his hand hovering near yours, waiting for you to close the distance. You hesitated for only a moment before your fingers intertwined with his.  It felt right, like coming home after being lost for so long.

He squeezed your hand gently, his eyes searching yours for any sign of what you were thinking, feeling. He looked like he was holding his breath.

“I love you too.”

It was still scary, still uncertain, but you realized that nothing worth having ever came easy. And Rafe, with all his flaws and all his efforts to be better, was worth it.

He exhaled, his shoulders sagging in relief, “I don’t deserve you,” he said whispered, lips pressed against your fingers, “But I’m going to spend every day trying to. I swear, I’ll never stop trying.”

You closed your eyes, “You’re gonna make me cry.”

Rafe’s grip on your hand tightened, as if he could physically hold you together through sheer will alone. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—” he started, his voice panicked, but you shook your head, cutting him off.

“No, it’s okay,” you whispered, opening your eyes to meet his. “I just… it’s been a long time since I let myself feel this way.”

He nodded, his thumb gently brushing against the back of your hand in slow, soothing circles. “You don’t have to hold back with me. Not anymore. Whatever you’re feeling, it’s okay.”

The tears you’d been holding back spilled over, running down your cheeks. Rafe was there instantly, his other hand reaching up to gently cup your face, his thumb brushing away the tears with a tenderness that made your heart hurt.

“I’m so sorry,” his voice cracked, “For everything I put you through.”

You leaned into his touch, the warmth of his hand grounding you, giving you the strength to keep going. “I was so miserable Rafe,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “Scared that if I let you back in, I’d get hurt again. Scared that I’d lose you all over again.”

“I know,” he said, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the small space between you. “And I promise you, I’m not going anywhere this time. I’m here, and I’m not going to let you down.”

“I want to try.”

Rafe’s breath hitched, and he pulled back slightly to look at you, his eyes searching yours as if he couldn’t  believe what he was hearing. “You do?”

You nodded, a small, tentative smile forming on your lips. “I do. But we need to take it slow, okay? I need time.”

“Of course,” he said quickly, his eyes bright with hope. “We’ll go as slow as you need. I don’t fucking care sweets, I’m not leaving.”

You weren’t just giving him another chance—you were giving yourself one too. A chance to heal, to forgive, and to find your way back to each other.

Rafe pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, lingering for a moment as if sealing the promise between you. “We’ve got this,” he murmured against your skin. “It’s you and me, okay?”

“You and me.”

Rafe’s eyes softened, and a genuine smile tugged at his lips, one that reached his eyes and made them crinkle at the corners. It was a smile you hadn’t seen in a long time, and seeing it made you want to bawl all over again. His hand cradled your cheek, his fingers tracing delicate circles on your jaw as his eyes locked onto yours, silently asking for permission, for forgiveness, for a chance to be close to you again. And when his lips finally brushed against yours, whatever pain you were feeling on your ankle disappeared. 

The kiss was soft, tentative at first, like he was afraid you might pull away, afraid to push too far too soon. But the moment your lips pressed back against his, that tentative touch deepened. Rafe’s hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t stand to be apart from you even for a second. You could feel the desperation in the way his lips moved against yours, the way his breath hitched when you parted your lips to let him in.

Just as you were about to lose yourself in him, the door to your room swung open with a creak. You both froze, lips still touching, as someone cleared their throat.

You pulled away from each other reluctantly, your cheeks flushed, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Your eyes met Rafe���s and you saw the same blush of color on his face, the same love-sick expression that you were sure mirrored your own.

The doctor stood in the doorway, a clipboard in hand, a bemused smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Well, I see you’re feeling better.”

Rafe cleared his throat, stepping back slightly, his hand still lingering on your arm as if he couldn’t bring himself to let go just yet. “Uh, yeah, she’s doing great,” he mumbled.

“You must be the boyfriend.”

You couldn’t help the grin that took over, “Yeah. He is.”

[jj-one]

HATE YOU

this is smut, do not interact if under 18

pairing: enemies to lovers ? (sorta one-sided tho), college au, fuckboy!jungkook x f!reader genre/tags: smut, angst, alcohol usage, dirty talk, lowkey perverted!jk, fingering, piv, unprotected sex (oof), drunk sex, public sex (reader & jk do it at a house party), riding, video recording **pls don’t do none of this irl LMAO words: 2.7k

**old repost from my deleted blog

Hate is a strong word— at least that’s what people try and say. You meant it though, it was a word you didn’t use lightly. Especially when it came to your opinion on 99% of the male population at your school. You couldn’t stand most of them, they all just wanted one thing. Getting into your pants.

You despised hook-up culture with a passion and it didn’t help that most guys who tried talking to you were all the same. You had a special hatred for a particular individual the most though— Jeon Jungkook from your physics class. He was the most arrogant, conceited, egotistical person you’ve ever met your whole life.

Every class he would have a different girl with him wrapped around his arm, walking him to the door like he’s some kind of royalty. The way almost every girl would swoon over him just because he’s good looking was baffling to you. Yeah he may have a pretty face but does that cancel everything else out? Of course not. You’ll never understand why these women would choose to go after someone like him, you felt embarrassed for them honestly.

“Jungkook, meet me after class I’ll be waiting for you!” Some girl shouted through the door to get his attention.

He was sitting two seats from you, looking at his phone while paying no mind to the obvious screaming being directed to him. He was so full of himself it was ridiculous.

“Hey y/n, what’re you doing tonight?”

That voice startled the hell out of you. Who gave Jungkook the right to even be speaking to you right now? Looking over in his direction, you give him an empty stare.

“Why do you care?” You said harshly.

It makes no sense why he would even try talking to you, you’ve never given him any indication you liked him.

“Sheesh, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today,” he chuckles, “you should pull up to my party tonight!” You wanted to almost physically gag at the wink he just gave you.

“I’m good.” You shut him down quickly and try moving on but he doesn’t let you off that easy.

“You sure? The whole schools practically gonna be there, you don’t wanna miss out on all the fun do ya?” That annoying smirk on his face was really starting to irritate you.

“I said I’m good, I’d never show up to one of your dumb ass parties.”

“I think you got me mixed up with someone else, my parties are always lit. If you have a change of heart though, I’ll make sure to show you a real good time.”

You scoff, utterly disgusted by his last comment, just about everything he said had sexual undertones to them. His humor was weird and extremely perverted which heavily pissed you off. You couldn’t wait for this class to be over.

“We’re almost here!” Yuna exclaims in the passenger seat.

You were in the back with two of your other friends as you were headed to a party. You weren’t totally up for partying tonight but ultimately your friends were able to convince you to go. You don’t even know where the party is but maybe it’s good to get your mind off things.

“Oh, by the way who’s party is this?” You ask suddenly as Lisa pulls into a driveway.

The car got silent for a second, no one answered your question. It was a bit odd to you the way they all froze up.

“Actually… it’s Jungkook’s party…” Lisa finally spoke, her eyes kept trailing away from you.

“What the fuck? Of all places you choose to go you pick him?!” You felt so betrayed.

They really drove you all the way here just to trick you into coming and now you have no escape plan. They all begged and pleaded for you to suck it up and let loose for just one night. You finally agreed but only under the condition that you want to be far away from him as possible.

“Why do you even dislike him so much? You would think he had murdered someone or something!” Your friend asks.

“I just think he’s a pretentious asshole that doesn’t deserve all the hype he gets.”

They just shrug your opinion off and get out the car. You huff as you open the door and head to the party with the rest of them.

You instantly felt claustrophobic once you go inside. There were crowds of people everywhere. Jungkook was right, everyone at the school was practically here. Loud rap music was blaring through the speakers, red solo cups scattered the floor, people getting sloppy drunk or stoned; the perfect stereotypical house party.

You haven’t seen him yet so that was a good sign and you go up to the kitchen to get drinks with Lisa. 20 minutes pass by now and Lisa was left out of your sight. You have no idea where she could’ve run off to and now you have to search the place to find your friends.

Heading outside into the backyard, your balance was becoming unstable from the alcohol in your system. You were taking shots of Hennessy back to back and it caught up to you faster than you could blink. You sat down on one of the lawn chairs since your head was starting to feel really heavy. You felt a sudden tap behind your shoulder and hear a voice that even when you’re drunk, you can sense with disdain.

“Well, well, well if it isn’t little miss ‘i’d never show up to one of your dumb ass parties!’” Jungkook teases while coming from behind you.

“Get the hell away from me!” You lean away from him to leave you alone but he only came closer.

“This is my house so I don’t need to go anywhere, if anything I think I should kick you out for being so mean to me.” His face inched towards yours further, putting you in an uncomfortable position.

You don’t know why your body felt paralyzed though, it was probably just from all the alcohol inebriating your mind.

“You know, I never understood why you actually hate me. I never hurt you did I?” He says, slightly cocking his head to the side.

His tattooed hand landed on your knee, just planting it there while keeping strong eye contact. You couldn’t speak for some reason, it was as if an enormous lump has formed and got caught inside your throat. He looks down at the skirt you’re wearing and bites his lip, playing with his lip ring.

“Why aren’t you talking? You usually have a lot to say to me, why so quiet now sweetheart? Cat got your tongue?” He continues speaking in that condescending tone of his and you’ve had enough now.

“I fucking hate your guts Jungkook, I absolutely despise you. You’re a cocky, perverted fuckboy that needs to be humbled and finally put in your place!” You snap back at him while pushing his hand away.

“Woah girl chill out, that was a bit harsh don’t ya think? Also, I’d love for you to put me in my place any day.” Yet again, he never fails to make a sexually charged comment.

“You’re disgusting, seriously get help!” You attempt to get up from the lawn chair but he pushes you back down.

“You know, I’ve always liked my girls a little feisty. I find it hot when girls yell at me.”

Either this man has a humiliation kink or is just plain stupid— either way you don’t want to be anywhere near him but he wouldn’t let you leave.

“Please just go away Jungkook, I don’t want you in my sight anymore.”

“Really? Because if that were true then you would’ve been left already,” his hand went to stroke the side of your hair “seems like you really don’t want me to leave.”

His other hand went back to your knee again but slowly trails up to your thigh and goes under your skirt this time. You were surprised within yourself that you were even letting this happen. He leans in to your face, being just a few inches away from his lips. You became almost in a trance by those pink, pillowy lips. You don’t know what came over you but you grab his face and messily kiss him. The movement of your lips colliding and syncing together as he deepened the kiss. He sensually touches your thigh while you moan into the kiss and he squeezes your thigh tightly in response. Looking around to see all the people still here when you pull away from him; you can’t fathom you just made out with Jungkook in front of all these goddamn people. You just lost all respect for yourself.

“You know I’ve always secretly had a crush on you y/n?” Jungkook admits, “I kinda like it when girls are mean to me. Or maybe I just like it when you’re mean, I haven’t figured it out yet.”

“Let me show you how mean I can get then.” You reply, staring up at him with hungry eyes.

That cheesy grin never leaving his face as he hears you speak. The tension only grew thicker and he wasn’t about to waste another second.

“Sit on my lap.” He uses his hands to maneuver you and leans back in the chair.

You drunkenly stumble on top of him, feeling him against you. Your body heat raised through the roof but this time you were sure it wasn’t because of the liquor. You straddle his lap as you go back to hastily making out. His wandering hands kept slipping down to your ass to squeeze it and you were starting to feel dizzy from the way he was kissing you. You feel his touch under your skirt to play with you some more, not caring if anyone’s looking at this point.

“I don’t think we should be doing this.. not here at least. Too many people.” You say when pulling away from his lips.

“I really don’t give a fuck, it’s my party let them watch. Let’s put on a good show for everyone, yeah?”

You know this goes beyond against every moral you’ve had before. You’re about to do the one thing you told yourself that you’d never do.

“Sounds like a plan to me.” Agreeing to go along with his narrative.

He lets you in charge now, letting you have full control over the way you get to ride him. You push your panties to the side and he undoes his pants to free his fully hard member. You didn’t realize how much of a nice cock he has, it was well groomed and had the perfect size/width.

“You have a really pretty dick, must I say.” You still can’t believe these words are being said to Jungkook.

“Thanks baby, I can’t wait for it to be in that pretty little pussy of yours.”

He drags two of his fingers down to your core and swipes in a circular motion, smearing the wet slick as he watches your mouth open wide with pleasure. His digits sink into your cunt harshly, pushing them deeper and deeper.

“Fuck! Your fingers feel too good…” you hid your face in his shoulder as he splits you open.

Your eyes hung low and your mind was hazy. Unable to think straight, you just wanted to feel Jungkook inside of you already.

“Need to fuck you nowww!” You yell, almost sounding a bit whiny.

“So do it then cutie. Come fuck yourself on my cock.”

He withdraws his digits out of you and licks the juices off them one by one. His grin would only get wider as you lowered yourself on his cock. You were so soaking wet you sunk down on him easily while resting your hands around his shoulders to brace yourself a bit before moving. Once you regain focus you slide up and down on his shaft nice and slow; making him bite his lip, moan, and curse under his breath.

“Your pussy feels so good… so tight… fuck..” his mind was going blank as you pick up a steady pace.

You were so out of it by now that you were bouncing on his cock in a frenzy. He roughly thrusted his hips back into you while you sloppily rode him. The way he filled you up felt like you were in heaven. You open your eyes for a second, forgetting that you were at a party. Almost everyone was looking at you, some people even took out their phones to record the scene in front of them. It was probably all the alcohol you drank but you didn’t even care anymore, you continued savagely riding him. You’re moaning louder as you slam down into him harder, pulling his body closer to yours. He loudly grunts from your walls aching around him, his cock was throbbing so intensely he felt himself wanting to burst already.

People were beyond shocked to see this happening, it was a wild party but they weren’t expecting all this. You try not to pay attention to everyone and focus on Jungkook so you can make yourself cum. Then out of nowhere, he spontaneously lifts you up while you’re still on his cock. Engulfing those large hands on your ass cheeks to keep you balanced and thrusts into you deep while he’s standing up. You had your arms wrapped tightly around him, you weren’t too scared of falling since he had a strong grip on you. You were taking his cock with each harsh stroke he gave, screaming out his name over and over so the whole party could hear it.

“Fuck yes Jungkook! Keep fucking me just like that, you’re so good!!” You could feel yourself coming close and so does Jungkook. Wet strands of sticky hair cling to his face from all the work he’s putting in, his eyebrows furrowed to concentrate solely on making you cum.

“Gonna cum on this cock for me baby? I feel you getter tighter ‘round me.”

“Yess, wanna cum on your cock so bad please!”

He was hitting all the spots in you just right, the slight curve of his shaft fit so perfectly in your core. Your mouth was back to being jaw locked again, feeling the heat wave of your orgasm coming through. It hit even harder when you were drunk, you felt like you were going to fall out of his arms but he noticed you slipping and pulls you up into a firmer grasp. While shutting your eyes you feel your release take over, cursing and moaning his name repeatedly like a broken record.

“I’m ‘bout to cum ….” He pulls out of you and sets you back on the lawn chair, “look up and open wide for me.”

You open your mouth eagerly for him, he gives his cock a few pumps before releasing his white creamy load into your mouth. You swallow every drop of his cum and stick your tongue out for him to show your empty mouth. He smiles at the pretty sight of you and goes in to kiss you once again.

“This is fucking insane!” One of the random people at the party says.

You recognize the person since they’ve been watching you from the start. To say that you and Jungkook left everyone at that party speechless was an understatement.

“You know people were taking videos of us right?” Jungkook says cautiously.

“Yeah… it’s probably going to end up all over social media now, if it hasn’t already. Oh well, like I care!” You shrug nonchalantly.

Oh you’ll definitely care when you sober up.

“Let’s get outta here?” Jungkook zips his pants back up and takes his hand out for you to grab.

You hold onto him and balance your wobbly legs to stand up. You were both severely drunk but he held his liquor way better than you did. For the rest of the night, the party continued and you ended up finding your friends. They soon found out about you were doing and how you fucked Jungkook in front of everyone there, they were all completely taken aback. You went from hating his guts to him destroying yours— guess that’s one way you can end a burning hatred for someone.