#they got me by the throat with their scenes

[aliyahwritings]

THE CONTRACTED HEART — Rafe Cameron (05)

MASTERLIST | Basketball Player & Model!Female Reader

Summary: Rafe Cameron, a basketball star, needs a marriage to fix his image, while Model!Reader needs one for citizenship. They may be the perfect solution for each other.

Warnings: smut, descriptions of violence, jealousy, usage of drugs, talks about body image/ed, angst, and lots of bickering. Reader is confident, a people-pleaser, has a traumatic past, and is a sunshine with an attitude. Rafe is a whore, possessive, cocky, and secretive about his past.

Word Count: 9.4k

Aliyah's Notes: i have two exams in five years and i still haven't slept, so if u notice any mistakes pls ignore them. i'll fix them when i have time, and yes a scene is inspired by the maddest obsession BUT ANYW AHHHHHH!!!!!!!!! THIS CHAPTER IS INSANE AND PLS DONT SCREAM AT ME FOR THE ENDING LIKE IM SO SORRY BUT IT HAD TO BE DONE

“Hey, you want to know something?” Sarah said, approaching you as you sat quietly at a table, lost in thought. Beside her, two girls: one had mid-length brown curls and sun-kissed blonde highlights, gave you a friendly grin, her energy light and approachable. The other had wavy, jet-black hair that framed her face, her features both sharp and effortlessly beautiful. They were stunning, you thought, in a way that felt both comforting and a little intimidating. “I never liked her. Even back when she and my brother were together, I never got along with Chiara.”

The girl with the highlighted curls nodded, sliding into the seat next to you. “Same here. There’s always been something... off about her,” she agreed, scrunching her nose in a way that made you smile. “Oh! I’m Kiara, by the way,” she added quickly. “Different spelling than Chiara, but I promise we’re nothing alike.”

The girl with the wavy black hair gave a little wave as she took the seat across from you, her smile warm and easy. “And I’m Cleo,” she introduced herself with a slight accent. “Can’t say I disagree with Sarah and Kie here. Chiara’s just... kind of a staple at these things. She’s always been around, so the guys still invite her out of habit.”

“And if they didn’t, she’d probably throw a tantrum,” Sarah added, rolling her eyes in exasperation. 

You felt a warmth creeping into your cheeks as you looked at the three of them, surprised by how welcoming they were. “Thanks, girls. I’m Y/N, by the way,” you said shyly, offering a small smile. 

“Girl, we know who you are,” Cleo came to sit on your side and nudged you softly. “But don’t worry, you’re part of the group now—Chiara who?” she joked, making you all laugh.

You cleared your throat, glancing between the three girls who were deep in conversation. The question had been sitting heavy on your mind since the moment you met Chiara. “So… Rafe and her—did they used to date?”

The girls exchanged a look, the brief silence almost uncomfortable. It was as if they were weighing their words, deciding what to say or what to hold back. Their reluctance only made you want answers more. Who was Chiara to Rafe, really?

Finally, Sarah glanced away, a frown crossing her face. “It’s… complicated.”

You couldn’t help but lean in, unable to stop the curiosity stirring in your chest. “How complicated?” you pressed. “Were they exes? Friends with benefits? Did they break up right before Rafe and I got together? Or was it just her holding on to a crush he never—”

Kiara gently placed a hand over yours, her eyes warm and understanding. “Y/N, it’s okay. You don’t have to overthink it, alright?”

You sighed, the uncertainty making your stomach twist. “I just wish I knew what they are—or were—to each other. Rafe hasn’t said a word about her. Not a thing.”

Cleo gave you a sympathetic look, and Sarah hesitated, biting her lip as though weighing whether to say more. Finally, she began, “Wait, so he really didn’t tell you about what they—”

But Sarah’s words were cut off abruptly as Rafe’s voice broke through the noise of the party. “Sweetheart, can we talk?”

The girls turned toward him, their expressions ranging from surprise to mild disgust.

Kiara shot him a skeptical look, brows raised. “Who did he just call ‘sweetheart’?”

Cleo’s eyes widened as she put her hands up in mock innocence. “Definitely not me.”

Sarah shook her head, holding back a laugh. “Don’t look at me. My brother’s never called me any nickname. So, nope, not me either.”

Their eyes turned back to you, and it clicked. Rafe’s gaze was fixed on you, his face serious, almost imploring. You fidgeted with your hands, glancing over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of Chiara. She was a few steps away, engrossed in a conversation with JJ, yet her eyes were unmistakably trained on you and Rafe. Her expression was unreadable, something between irritation and curiosity, and the ambiguity of it only frustrated you more.

Rafe’s voice softened, his eyes searching yours. “Y/N, let’s go. Please?”

“I’m serious about her, Chiara,” was what Rafe replied earlier, his voice firm but before you could register the words, Chiara grabbed his arm, pulling him toward the garden without so much as a second glance in your direction, leaving you alone in the middle of the party—feeling like a complete idiot.

You weren’t sure how to feel about Rafe’s words. It was exactly what you’d hoped to hear, but his delivery had been off, and the way he left with her immediately afterward left a sour taste. You remember watching them through the windows. Their conversation looked intense. Chiara’s hands moved wildly, gesturing with a frustration that seemed matched by Rafe, who kept sighing and tossing his arms up in exasperation. Whatever they discussed, it was clearly charged.

But now, Rafe was standing in front of you, his expression unreadable as he asked to talk. About what? You didn’t know. Maybe he’d finally explain who Chiara was to him or put to rest the suspicion twisting in your gut, though you doubted he would. Instead of lingering on the countless possibilities, you took a steadying breath, nodded, and followed him outside.

The night air was cool, a stark contrast to the party’s warmth, and you found yourself standing on the porch beside him, facing the quiet street. For a moment, silence fell between you, thick and awkward, as if neither of you knew where to begin. He glanced at you and you felt a flicker of anticipation mixed with unease, wondering what he’d say—if he’d finally give you the answers you were looking for.

Rafe leaned against the porch railing, arms folded, his gaze fixed somewhere over your shoulder. “Look... Chiara just… she doesn’t handle change well,” he said, his tone flat, almost dismissive. “She’s just… used to things being a certain way. She's dramatic."

You crossed your arms, holding back the questions building up. “Right. So, she drags you outside because she’s feeling… what? Dramatic?”

He glanced at you, then quickly looked away, jaw tightening. “It’s not like that,” he said, his voice clipped. “She’s… she’s just not used to seeing me with someone else.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to keep your tone light. “Oh, so I’m the problem?”

Rafe sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “No, it’s not you. It’s…” He paused, as if weighing how much he wanted to say. “She just thinks… I don’t know, she has her own ideas about things. She probably assumed things were the way they used to be.”

You frowned. “Used to be?” The question slipped out before you could stop it, and when Rafe didn’t answer right away, you continued. “So, you two were… what? Together?”

He shook his head. “Not exactly. Things just... overlapped for a while. It was just… a thing. A long time ago.”

Your patience was wearing thin. “And by ‘a long time ago,’ you mean… what? Last week? Last month?”

Rafe exhaled sharply, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “Shit, why does it matter? Whatever it was, it’s over, alright? I didn’t think I had to spell it out for you.”

“Maybe you do need to,” you shot back, feeling your cheeks heat. “I think I deserve to know when I’m about to walk into a situation where some girl is going to pull you away and act like I’m the one intruding.”

Rafe’s jaw tightened, and he leaned in slightly, his eyes narrowing. “She’s not just ‘some girl.’ She’s… someone I’ve known for a while. And she’s… complicated. Okay?”

“Right. ‘Complicated.’” You let the word hang in the air, dripping with sarcasm. “I’m sure it’s just so complicated that you couldn’t even bother to tell me about her before dragging me into this.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking away. “It’s not like that. I just… I didn’t think she’d show up here. I didn’t think it would matter.”

You shook your head, folding your arms tighter around yourself. “Well, maybe it does matter, Rafe. Because from where I’m standing, it looks like she has some claim on you.”

"What?" Rafe’s eyes flashed with irritation, and he straightened up, clearly done with the conversation. “Look, she doesn’t have a fucking ‘claim’ on me. It’s nothing. Just… drop it.”

The bluntness of his words stung, and you took a steadying breath, keeping your voice as even as possible. “Fine,” you said coolly, shrugging as if you weren’t affected. “But you might want to let her know that.”

He shook his head, muttering something under his breath before his gaze met yours again. “You’re overthinking it. She’s… she’s just used to being a part of my life, and now things are different. She’ll deal with it.”

You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head slightly. “Funny, because from where I was standing, it didn’t look like she was planning to just ‘deal with it.’ It looked like she was… I don’t know, trying to stake her territory or something.”

Rafe sighed, looking away again. “That’s just how she is. She’s always… been intense. Doesn’t mean anything.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, feeling a mix of frustration and something uncomfortably close to jealousy. “So, I’m just supposed to ignore it? Pretend she didn’t pull you, my boyfriend, outside to… to lecture you about me?”

“Exactly,” he replied, his tone abrupt. “It’s just noise. Don’t pay her any mind.”

The simplicity of his response only fueled your irritation. “Right. Because I should just… ignore all of this and act like nothing’s wrong.”

“Look, I didn’t ask her to make a scene,” he said, his voice sharper now. “And I didn’t think she’d come here tonight. She just… showed up, okay?”

You paused, studying his expression, which was a mixture of defensiveness and something else you couldn’t quite place. “So, what’s the story with her?” you asked, trying to keep your tone casual, though you knew it was anything but.

Rafe let out a frustrated breath. “There’s no ‘story,’ alright? She’s just… she was around for a while, that’s it. We had… an understanding.”

You raised an eyebrow, the vagueness of his answer only adding to your frustration. “An understanding,” you repeated slowly, crossing your arms tighter. “Well, it seems like she didn’t quite get the memo that whatever ‘understanding’ you had is over.”

He shifted uncomfortably, glancing toward the house as if hoping someone would interrupt. “She’ll get over it. I just didn’t expect her to… make it a whole thing.”

“Maybe she made it a whole thing because you haven’t made it clear to her that it’s… nothing,” you said, emphasizing his own words back to him.

Rafe’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Why are you making this such a big deal? It’s not like we're actually together. This—" he said, moving his fingers between you two "—is fake, in case you forgot.”

“Oh, right, because it’s so normal for the girl you used to have… whatever with to show up at a party and act like I’m the one intruding.” You shook your head, exasperated. “Forgive me for wanting to understand the situation.”

He shrugged, still not meeting your eyes. “It’s just… old history. Not worth bringing up.”

“Then maybe you should have thought of that before dragging me into this,” you shot back, your voice laced with frustration.

He finally met your gaze, his jaw set. “Dragging you into what? It’s not like I invited her here.”

You raised an eyebrow, challenging him. “Did you invite me here to watch your past blow up in front of us?”

Rafe let out a bitter laugh. “This is what I get for trying to bring you around my friends. Next time, I’ll keep it strictly professional. How’s that?”

You felt a pang of hurt, but you masked it with a tight smile. “Perfect. I’ll remember that for next time, Rafe.” You turned away, taking a few steps back toward the house, hoping he’d get the hint that you were done.

But Rafe’s hand closed gently around your wrist, stopping you. “Wait.” His voice was low, reluctant, but there was a softness there you hadn’t expected.

You turned, catching his gaze, which had softened just slightly. “What?”

He hesitated, then let go of your wrist, his fingers lingering just a moment longer. “I just… I didn’t expect her to react this way. I thought… things were clear between us.”

“Clearly, they’re not,” you replied, unable to keep the edge from your tone.

Rafe sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll try to talk to her, alright? Make sure she understands. But can we just… leave it here?”

You watched him, seeing the frustration, the tension in his shoulders, and you knew he wasn’t about to tell you any more than he already had. So, instead of pushing it further, you forced a casual shrug. “Fine. Whatever. It’s none of my business anyway, right?”

A flicker of something passed across his face—surprise, maybe, or regret. “Right. It’s not,” he said, though his voice was quieter, as if the words didn’t sit right with him.

You nodded, biting back the urge to say anything more. “Great. Glad we’re on the same page.”

An awkward silence settled between you, the tension thick and unresolved. Rafe shifted, glancing toward the house. “We should get back. People will start talking if we’re both out here too long.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “Oh, we wouldn’t want that, would we?” The sarcasm was sharp, but you didn’t care; you were too irritated to soften it.

He shot you a look, somewhere between exasperation and apology, but said nothing as he turned to head back inside. You followed a few paces behind, feeling the weight of the conversation pressing down on you, every unanswered question lingering like a shadow.

Before reaching the door, Rafe paused, his hand resting on the doorknob as he glanced back at you. “Listen…” He hesitated, as if searching for the right words. “It’s… just a lot, okay? Give me some time. I’ll sort it out.”

You held his gaze, unsure whether to believe him, but you nodded once. “Fine. But make it clear, Rafe. I’m not here to play second fiddle to some girl from your past. My life is on the line and I don't have time to worry about this sort of thing.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but whatever he was about to say, he swallowed back. Instead, he gave a tight nod and pushed open the door, slipping back into the noise and light of the party. You followed him and plastered on a fake smile while wondering if you’d ever get the truth out of him.

For the next hour, you put on a mask, pretending everything was fine—like nothing happened. But no matter how hard you tried to push the thoughts away, they lingered, clouding every moment. What was Rafe and Chiara’s relationship? You forced yourself to focus on the laughter, the music, and the warmth of the people around you, determined to enjoy the night with Rafe’s friends. Yet every so often, your mind drifted back to Chiara and Rafe, leaving an uncomfortable knot in your stomach.

Rafe took you around the room, introducing you to his teammates: Topper Thornton, Kelce Miller, JJ Maybank, Pope Heyward, and John B Routledge. They each greeted you with a friendly smile and a welcoming vibe. You found yourself particularly drawn to Topper's lighthearted humor and Pope's quiet charm, making it a bit easier to relax. But it was the girls who truly helped lift your spirits. Their energy was infectious, and you quickly found yourself laughing and swapping stories as if you’d known them forever.

Just as you were in the middle of an animated conversation, you heard someone call out, "Miss supermodel!" You turned to see Topper staggering toward you with a mischievous grin, clearly several drinks deep. “Come drink with us! You haven’t had a single sip all night!”

You couldn’t help but smile as he swayed slightly, holding up a red cup with a challenging look. He finally came in front of you and you had to shake your head. “I’m sorry, Topper. I can’t drink tonight. I’m on contract.”

He whined and threw his head back. “Why? A little sip won’t hurt you, right? Come on, please.”

You laughed, shaking your hands as he pouted dramatically, swaying slightly. “Topper, you’re wasted! I think you’ve had enough for both of us.”

He held his heart in mock offense. “Oh, come on! Just one tiny sip!” He held out the cup, swirling it a little as if to tempt you. “Look, it’s just tequila! You can handle tequila, right?”

You hesitated, glancing down at the cup and then back at his hopeful face. “I really shouldn’t… If anyone from the agency finds out, I’m in trouble.”

“Who’s gonna know? It’s just us here, right?” He looked around, grinning mischievously. “Your secret’s safe with me. And, hey, you can’t just let me be the only one embarrassing myself tonight.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes playfully. “Alright, one sip. But that’s it, okay?”

Topper’s eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. “Yes! That’s all I’m asking for.” He held out the cup, his face eager with anticipation.

You took the cup from him, feeling the weight of all the eyes on you as his friends turned to watch, clearly amused by the scene. Raising the cup to your lips, you took a big sip, the tequila burning as it went down. You scrunched your nose at the taste, earning a round of cheers from Topper and the girls.

“There we go! Wasn’t so bad, was it?” he laughed, throwing an arm around your shoulders.

“Awful,” you teased, wiping your lips. “But now you can’t say I didn’t drink with you.”

Topper gave you a victorious grin. “I knew you’d come through! You’re practically one of us now.”

You should’ve known.

Less than an hour later, you were stumbling across the living room, thoroughly tipsy and clinging to Kiara, who was somehow even more drunk than you. The two of you were giggling uncontrollably, reduced to hysterics over the silliest things—the pretzels shaped like animals, the crooked painting on the wall. Every little thing was hilarious, and the alcohol only seemed to amplify your laughter and loosen your inhibitions.

Lost in your little bubble, you didn’t notice Rafe watching from across the room, his gaze sharp and unblinking as he kept tabs on you. He hadn’t seen you like this before—free-spirited, a little reckless, and definitely wilder than he was used to. He couldn’t help but chuckle as he watched you shout out something along the lines of, “Everyone should just strip already!” before lifting the hem of your top, ready to make good on your words.

That was Rafe’s cue. In a flash, he crossed the room, slipping his hands over yours before you could pull your shirt over your head. His touch was firm, grounding, a stark contrast to the chaos around you. "Whoa there," he murmured, his voice laced with amusement, but his eyes were warm, almost protective.

You blinked up at Rafe, a goofy grin plastered across your face as you realized he was standing right in front of you. The room spun just a little, but his steady hands on yours felt oddly comforting.

“Rafe!” you slurred, beaming as though you hadn’t seen him in days. “Fuck! Isn’t it, like, super hot in here?”

Rafe smirked, shaking his head. “I think that’s just the tequila talking, baby,” he replied, steadying you as you swayed. His fingers stayed wrapped around yours, almost possessive, but he didn’t let go.

You pouted, glancing around at the half-dressed friends who were now laughing at your enthusiastic outburst. “Fine, but I was just trying to help everyone loosen up, you know?”

“Oh, trust me, you’ve definitely loosened up,” he chuckled, his eyes scanning you, both entertained and slightly exasperated. “Maybe… a little too much.”

You leaned in closer, your voice dropping to a playful whisper, “You know you enjoy it.”

Rafe’s gaze softened, but there was something else there, too—like he was seeing a side of you he hadn’t before. “Maybe I do,” he replied, his voice low, almost as if the words had slipped out unintentionally. He cleared his throat, his grip tightening on your hands. “But I also love it when you’re not stripping in front of half my team.”

You giggled, reaching up to playfully ruffle his hair. “Aww, big, tough Rafe is jealous I haven’t stripped to him first, is that it?”

Just then, Kiara stumbled over, clearly in search of more entertainment. “Hey! Let’s play a game, everyone!” 

Rafe sighed. “Alright, I think that’s our cue to leave,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head as he looked back at you.

You tugged on Rafe’s arm, leaning into him with a dramatic pout. “Nooooo… let’s play the game, and then we can go,” you insisted.

“Y/N, you’re beyond wasted,” he said, arching an eyebrow in disbelief. “I doubt you’ll even be able to play the game right.”

“I am not drunk,” you protested, crossing your arms defiantly. The words slurred just slightly, giving you away. Rafe’s skeptical look only deepened. “I’m just a little tipsy,” you amended quickly, giving him a grin. “Come on, don’t be such a buzzkill.”

He hesitated, watching you with a mixture of amusement and concern. For a moment, he seemed ready to argue, but as you flashed him your brightest, most convincing smile, he sighed, a reluctant smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Fine,” he muttered, finally giving in.

You joined everyone on the floor, settling into a circle with a bottle of vodka at the center and shot glasses placed around. The music was turned down, but the room’s energy buzzed with anticipation. You found yourself between Rafe on your left and Sarah on your right. Across from you were Pope, Cleo, John B, and Chiara, each giving you encouraging grins or a raised brow.

Kiara took charge with a gleeful smile. “Alright, you all know how Never Have I Ever works, right?” She scanned the group, receiving nods all around. “Perfect! If anyone wants to skip a question, you take a shot. Simple enough. Should I start?” She tapped her chin playfully before flashing a mischievous grin. “Never have I ever dated someone at least ten years older than me.”

A chorus of laughter and surprised murmurs rippled through the group as Rafe, Kelce, and Topper each dropped a finger. A few gasps followed, and your eyes darted to Rafe, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

"So, you’re into cougars, huh?” you whispered, unable to hide your amused smile.

He shrugged, glancing at you with a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Not anymore,” he murmured, his gaze flicking to your lips. The slow lick he gave his own sent a spark through you, making you gulp and look away quickly. Was it the alcohol, or did he just do that on purpose?

JJ smirked, taking the lead for the next round. “Alright, let’s up the stakes. Never have I ever been in handcuffs…and I don’t mean the kind from a police station.”

The number of people lowering their fingers was surprising. Sarah, John B, Kelce, Chiara, Cleo...and even you. As soon as you put your finger down, Rafe snapped his head in your direction, his eyes wide with surprise. You avoided his gaze, a sly smirk playing on your lips as you focused elsewhere, feeling his lingering stare and the unspoken question in his eyes.

“Lots of naughty people here,” Kiara smirked, eyeing the group of us who had fingers down. Her grin was wicked as she surveyed the room, making everyone squirm just a little. “I see y’all… I see y’all! Alright, someone else ask the next question!”

Topper jumped at the chance, grinning as he dramatically raised a finger. “Never have I ever had a crush on someone in this room,” he declared, looking around with a teasing sparkle in his eyes.

You watched as some people—those who were obviously in relationships (and Chiara)—put their fingers down, laughing and giving each other cute looks. You shrugged, you didn’t relate to that question. You didn’t do anything, leaning back as others shared knowing glances. But then, Rafe nudged your shoulder, leaning down close enough for you to feel his breath against your ear.

“Come on, put a finger down,” he whispered, his voice low and warm. His hand rested on your knee, his thumb grazing in gentle circles, as if to coax you into admitting something.

You shook your head, letting out a sleepy laugh. “I don’t have a crush on anyone,” you slurred, clearly drunk. Your words came out slower, a bit softer, and you could feel Rafe chuckle beside you, probably entertained by how far gone you were.

“Did you forget we’re together?” he asked, amused. Without waiting for your response, he took your hand and put a finger down for you. His touch was gentle, yet possessive.

JJ spotted the exchange, laughter bursting out of him as he pointed at you. “Oh, damn, Rafe! She actually forgot she even likes you!”

Rafe shot him a mock glare, flipping him off with a grin. “That’s on you, fuck-heads, for handing her all those shots,” he retorted, pointing an accusatory finger around the group. “We’re gonna head out soon if she keeps this up.”

“No! Don’t go!” Cleo’s voice suddenly cut through, practically pouting. “I like her! Don’t take her away from me—us!”

Pope waved his hands, laughing as he tried to steer the game back on course. “Alright, let’s just keep this moving before the girls start crying. Here’s one—never have I ever had a threesome.”

The room went quiet, people hesitating to react. Then smirks appeared, and the accusations started flying at JJ, with Topper and a few others pointing fingers. “Come on, man! We literally saw you making out with two girls at once last month!”

You felt the conversation slipping in and out, barely paying attention to the bickering. Your head felt heavy, and with each passing second, you found yourself drifting further. Almost without realizing it, you leaned into Rafe’s shoulder, your head resting there like it had always belonged. His arm wrapped around you, hand trailing up and down your shoulder in comforting circles, and you closed your eyes, feeling strangely at peace. His warmth surrounded you, making the noise around you blur into the background. For a fleeting moment, you wondered if you could stay like this forever.

Across the room, Chiara’s eyes narrowed as she caught sight of the two of you, her jaw clenching almost imperceptibly. Her stare was sharp, piercing, and a flash of something darker seemed to flicker there.

“Hey, guys! Let’s stop arguing and actually play,” Sarah called out, snapping everyone’s attention back to the game. She pointed at you and Rafe, grinning. “Those two are practically out like lights! Okay, here’s one: never have I ever had sex in a movie theater.”

Laughter erupted again as John B hesitated, clearly too shy to admit to anything. You looked up at Rafe, raising an eyebrow playfully as if to ask if he’d ever done something like that. He met your gaze, shaking his head.

When he raised his brow to ask you the same question, you mimicked his gesture, shaking your head. But then, with a mischievous glint in your eye, you leaned into him, dropping your voice to a whisper. “Bathrooms, though… I’ve done it there.” You weren’t sure why you said it—he hadn’t even asked. “I don’t know if that counts…”

Rafe’s brows shot up in surprise, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Guess you’re freakier than you look.”

You chuckled, leaning back. “What’s that supposed to mean? I don’t look like the type?”

He shook his head slowly, letting his eyes wander over you, his gaze lingering on your lips before it drifted back up to your eyes. “Not exactly,” he murmured, voice low.

“Oh?” you asked, hand drifting to rest on his thigh, watching the glint in his blue eyes intensify as he looked down at your hand. “Come on, Cameron. Tell me what I look like, then.”

His fingers traced light patterns under the hem of your shirt, brushing over the skin at your waist in a way that made your breath hitch. He leaned in close, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “You look like you want to be fucked roughly,” he paused, letting his words linger before he added with a smirk, “but maybe you should get some sleep instead.”

You playfully swatted his arm, pushing yourself upright with a laugh. “Screw you, Rafe.”

With a grin, he pulled you back to his side, wrapping his arms around you as you settled against him again. “Oh, come on, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice gentle but teasing. “You know I’m just messing with you—”

Chiara Romano’s voice cut through the chatter with an edge sharper than before. “Okay, my turn now,” she said, raising her head, her eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made you feel uneasy. “Never have I ever…” she paused, letting her gaze linger on you a moment longer, her lips curling into a smirk that held none of the warmth and humor everyone else’s questions had. “... never have I ever filmed myself in the bathroom puking my guts out after eating.”

A shocked silence fell over the room. You felt the air freeze, every eye darting to Chiara in disbelief, and then back to you. The words hit like a punch to the gut, and the humiliation was instant and overwhelming. Your face flushed as the awful memories flooded back—the horrible moment that video had been leaked, exposing your bulimia to the world without mercy. You’d spent months trying to rebuild, to reclaim your own story, but now it was out in the open again, with a cruelty that left you breathless.

Your cheeks flamed with humiliation, and your chest tightened as if the air had been sucked out of the room. You felt every gaze on you, piercing, questioning, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet anyone’s eyes. Your fingers curled around your tighs, gripping tightly, almost leaving red marks.

You closed your eyes the moment you felt tears coming up. You didn’t want to cry in front of everyone, it was embarrassing enough that they got reminded of the most embarrassing moment of your life—crying would embarrass you even more. None of them know what you went through after that video got leaked. No one knew the nights you spent in rehab centers getting mocked for the video—as if everyone there wasn’t in because of mental illnesses too. They didn’t know the amount of strength it took for you to finally get clean… only for you to relapse again this afternoon.

They didn’t fucking know!

Rafe stood up beside you, his body going tense beside you. His jaw clenched as his eyes narrowed at her. “What the fuck is wrong you?” he yelled, his voice sharp, like he was barely holding back.

She shrugged, feigning innocence, though the smirk stayed firmly on her face. “What? I thought we were all sharing our secrets here, right? After all, the video has already been leaked for everyone to see, like, years ago… didn’t think it was such a big deal.”

You felt like you were drowning, the walls closing in on you as Chiara’s words rang in your ears. Without thinking, you bolted for the door, the need to escape driving you forward. You pushed past Rafe, who instinctively reached out for you, but you couldn’t stop. You needed to get out, away from the judgment, away from the stares that felt like daggers. The cold night air hit you as you stepped outside, but it didn’t matter; all you could think about was putting as much distance between yourself and the party as possible.

The rain poured down in sheets, drenching you instantly. You stumbled through the downpour, your heart racing as you made your way toward the car, the asphalt slick and glistening under the streetlights. You couldn’t believe it had come to this, running away like some frightened child, but the humiliation burned too fiercely to stand another moment.

Behind you, you heard Rafe call out your name, his voice cutting through the sound of the rain. “Y/N! Fuck—wait!” He sounded frantic, his tone a mix of worry and urgency. You could hear him rushing after you, his footsteps splashing through puddles as he chased you down.

“Just leave me alone!” you shouted over your shoulder, the words coming out more desperate than you intended. You didn’t want to feel his pity, didn’t want him to see you like this—broken and exposed. 

“Look, I’m so sorry for what she—”

“I don’t want your fucking pity, Rafe!” you turned around to see him running toward you. His clothes clinging to his body. “Just go back there, and leave me alone for the night, alright?”

“I’m not leaving you!” he shouted back, his voice firm. You could hear the determination in his tone, and it both soothed and angered you. Why wouldn’t he just let you go?

You reached the car, fumbling with the door handle, your fingers slipping as the rain poured down, obscuring your vision. You wanted to get inside, to hide from everything—from Chiara, from your mistakes, from the shame that clung to you like a second skin.

Just as you finally got the door open, Rafe was there, blocking your way. He stood next to you, soaking wet but unbothered, his expression fierce and protective. “Y/N, please,” he urged, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “Come on… Just… just talk to me.”

His presence was grounding, but you couldn’t shake off the overwhelming tide of emotions surging through you. “What’s there to talk about?” you asked, your voice broke. “It’s all out there for everyone to see. I couldn’t handle it back then and I… I can’t handle it now. I can’t…” you felt tears pooling at your eyes.

Rafe took a step closer, rain cascading down his face, but he didn’t reach for you. Instead, he held his hands up, palms facing you. “Don’t run away from this.”

“Watch me,” you shot back, glaring at him through tears. “You can’t fix this, Rafe, so just let me go.”

“I am not letting you go,” he insisted. “What she did was cruel—she felt miserable seeing us together. You know better than this.”

“Do I?” you echoed, feeling your own resolve wavering as you locked eyes with him. “It’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one with the history she just exposed. You’re not the one who’s been ridiculed for something that was leaked against your will!”

“Neither am I the one hiding in a corner, sulking because some jealous bitch decided to take a cheap shot,” Rafe countered, his frustration evident. “You’re stronger than this, so stop acting like you’re not. Stand up for yourself!”

“Stand up for myself?” You laughed, a hollow sound that echoed in the rain. “And how do you suggest I do that? By going back there and asking her to apologize? By acting like it doesn’t hurt?”

“Why give her the satisfaction of knowing she’s getting to you?”

“Because it’s easy!” you snapped, frustration boiling over. “It’s easier to run away and hide than it is to face the pain! Don’t you get that? I thought I was done with all of this, and now I’m just… I’m back to square one. I thought you understood me better than that.”

“Clearly, I don’t,” he said, his tone cutting. “You want to hide, and I’m not going to let you hide from yourself. I care about you, Y/N...”

You felt your heart pound in your chest, caught between anger and a flicker of something deeper. “What you care about is saving face. You want the perfect girlfriend who can handle anything. But I’m not that person, Rafe. I’m a mess. I have issues, and I’m tired of pretending I’m not.”

He stepped closer, the tension between you thick and electric. “And I’m not asking you to pretend. I’m asking you to be real. To be honest about what you’re feeling. We can face this if you’d just let me help you instead of pushing me away.”

You hesitated, the rain drumming a steady rhythm around you as you stared at him. “Maybe I don’t want your help. Maybe I don’t need anyone to fix me.”

“Then why the hell are you running away from this?” he challenged, his voice rising again. “Because it’s too hard? Because it makes you uncomfortable? Life is uncomfortable, Y/N! That’s the reality, and running away doesn’t change that.”

“I just don’t want to do this right now,” you shot back, the weariness of the night creeping in. “I didn’t sign up for a therapy session. I wanted to have fun, to forget, and now it feels like I’m being dragged back into all the crap.”

Rafe’s expression softened slightly, but his resolve remained. “And you can’t forget by ignoring it. You have to face it, and I’m not going to let you do it alone. If that means we argue, then so be it. But I’m not walking away.”

You looked away, biting your lip to keep the frustration at bay. “Maybe you should. Maybe it would be easier for both of us.”

“Easier? For who?” he challenged but you couldn’t answer him anymore.

You didn’t have the strength to fight. You sighed. “Can you get me home or not?”

He ran his hands through his buzzcut and nodded. “You’re not gonna say goodbye to everyone?” You shook your head, not wanting to get back in there and look at them staring at you. “Alright… get in the car, then.”

You climbed into the passenger seat, the cool leather sticking to your damp clothes. Rafe slipped in beside you, his jaw set, hands gripping the wheel. Neither of you said a word, the silence thick and uncomfortable, each of you lost in your own thoughts. You stared out the window, watching the raindrops race each other down the glass, trying to focus on anything other than the weight of the tension that hung between you.

Your heart was still pounding, the adrenaline from the confrontation lingering in your veins. You could feel the shame gnawing at you, the humiliation settling into a deep, aching hollow inside you. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Rafe shifting in his seat, glancing at you every so often, his mouth twitching as if he wanted to say something. But he kept quiet, his gaze fixed on the rain-soaked road ahead. His fingers tapped against the steering wheel, a small, nervous rhythm that betrayed the stillness in the car.

The silence was suffocating, heavy with words unsaid. You could feel the questions he wanted to ask, the concern he held back, but he didn’t press. Part of you appreciated it, yet another part of you wished he would just break the silence, say something to shatter this unbearable quiet.

You stole a glance at him, his brow furrowed, jaw clenched. He was clearly wrestling with something, struggling between respecting your need for space and his own instinct to reach out. But his restraint made everything feel even more surreal, like the two of you were strangers again, pretending not to know each other’s pain.

Eventually, you wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling the chill of your damp clothes seep into your skin.

When he pulled up in front of your apartment building, he kept the engine running, his hands still gripping the wheel tightly. He didn’t make any move to get out or say goodbye. He just sat there, glancing out the window before looking back at you, his lips parting slightly as if he might finally say something.

With a quiet sigh, you pushed the door open, stepping out into the drizzle that had softened into a gentle mist. The cold bit into your skin, but you barely noticed. You closed the door behind you, barely looking back, willing yourself not to dwell on the weight of his stare as you turned toward the entrance of your building—but you paused, feeling a pang of dread at the thought of stepping into your apartment alone. The quiet and emptiness that usually felt like a sanctuary now seemed suffocating. You hesitated, glancing back at the car where Rafe still sat, staring out into the rain.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you turned back and walked toward him, knocking gently on his window. He looked up, a mixture of surprise and uncertainty crossing his face as he rolled the window down. The awkwardness was palpable, hanging between you like a fragile thread.

“Do you… want to come up?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “I just—I just don’t feel like being alone right now.” You glanced away, feeling vulnerable, exposed. This wasn’t easy to admit, especially not to him.

Rafe blinked, clearly caught off guard. He hesitated, the tension in his posture softening as he considered your request. “Uh, yeah… sure,” he replied, though there was a touch of awkwardness in his voice, like he wasn’t sure he was the right person for this. Still, he killed the engine and got out of the car, following you toward the entrance.

Inside the building, you moved wordlessly up the stairs together, the elevator’s light out as usual. The quiet between you was no longer charged with unspoken tension but instead carried a strange, subdued calm. Each step felt heavier, and you could feel his presence just a few inches behind you, grounding you in a way that felt strangely comforting.

When you finally reached your door, you unlocked it and stepped inside, flicking on a dim light that bathed the space in a warm, muted glow. Rafe followed, taking in the familiar yet intimate details of your apartment as he shrugged off his jacket. He looked unsure, like he didn’t quite know where to stand or what to say, so he hovered near the doorway.

You offered him a small, grateful smile and gestured toward the couch. “You can sit, if you want. I’ll make some tea or something,” you mumbled, moving toward the kitchen before he could respond. The warmth of your apartment slowly started to chip away at the lingering chill from the rain outside, and you felt a hint of comfort beginning to settle in.

When you returned with two mugs, Rafe had taken a seat on the couch, his gaze still wandering around the room, perhaps more at ease now. He accepted the tea with a quiet “thanks,” and you sat beside him, the silence stretching out once more, but this time it didn’t feel as heavy. 

You can feel the heat radiating from his body, close enough that your knees almost touch, and every so often, your eyes meet and then dart away, a faint spark igniting each time.

It’s you who finally breaks the voice, your voice soft. “I’m going to change. I can… One of my friends’ left his clothes there, I can give them to you, if you want?”

Rafe looked up from his mug, his expression caught between surprise and a hesitant relief. “Yeah, that’d be… that’d be great,” he replied, glancing down at his damp clothes, his shoulders relaxing slightly.

You rose from the couch, moving to your room to dig through the small pile of clothes left behind from friends. Finding an oversized hoodie and some sweatpants, you returned and handed them to him, offering a half-smile. “They might be a little big, but better than wet clothes.”

He nodded, accepting them with a quiet “Thanks,” and stepped into the bathroom to change. The moment he was out of sight, you took a deep breath, feeling the quiet around you settle into something both calm and unfamiliar, his presence somehow easing the edges of your earlier anxiety. You wrapped your arms around yourself, still shaken by everything that had happened, but also oddly comforted by knowing you weren’t alone tonight.

When he emerged, dressed in the loose-fitting hoodie and sweats, he looked different—more relaxed, less guarded. He took a tentative step back into the living room, running a hand through his damp hair as he caught your eye, almost sheepish.

You managed a faint smile, gesturing to the couch again, and he sank down beside you. He set his mug on the table, his fingers fidgeting slightly before he leaned back, settling in.

“Well, I... I’ll just go change. Make yourself comfortable,” you said, your voice soft but inviting. Leaving Rafe in the living room, you headed to your bedroom, slipping into a comfortable black tank top and a pair of Hello Kitty pajama pants—the ones Nina, your agent, gifted you when you’d first arrived in the U.S. They were worn in with memories, each time you wore them a reminder of how far you’d come. You removed your makeup and pulled your hair into a ponytail, feeling lighter and more yourself.

When you reemerged, you noticed Rafe standing in the hallway, intently studying a small collection of photos you had on the wall. You approached him quietly, noticing that he was particularly focused on a picture of you from when you were nineteen, dressed in a deep green saree at a friend’s wedding in the States. You were surrounded by your group of friends, all of you smiling.

“You looked beautiful,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, as though speaking louder might disturb something precious in the moment.

“Thank you…” you murmured, feeling a soft warmth rise in your cheeks. You glanced back at the photo, remembering how special that day was. “I really like this one. I’d just arrived here and didn’t know many people yet. Then a few friends invited me to the wedding, and I felt... confident, you know? Like I could start fresh here. And wearing a saree again just felt like home—the color, everything... It was my first time going to a wedding here.”

“And how did it feel?” he asked, genuinely curious.

You let out a small laugh, recalling the night. “It was just like back home, only better in some ways. No one really knew who I was, so I didn’t have any aunties critiquing me. Though they did make sure I had enough food to last a week,” you chuckled, a smile playing at the corner of your lips. The memory was comforting, a reminder of the warmth that had welcomed you into this new life.

“The color suits you,” he said, his eyes still lingering on the photo before meeting yours with a hint of a smile.

“You sure you’re not only saying that because it’s your favorite co—”

Before you could finish your phrase, he closed the space between you, his hands finding your face as he pulled you into a rough, heated kiss. His lips crashed against yours with a passion that caught you completely off guard, leaving you breathless, swept up in the sudden intensity of his need.

When he finally pulled back, your pulse was racing, and you stared at him, dazed. “Why… why did you kiss me?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper, still trying to catch your breath.

A slow smirk spread across his face as he brushed his thumb over your cheek. “I wanted to know what you tasted like… again,” he murmured, his voice thick with a teasing confidence that made your cheeks flush.

You swallowed, still feeling the lingering heat of his lips. “And what do I taste like?”

He studied your lips for a moment, then met your gaze with a dangerous glint. “Come il mio,” he said softly in Italian, his words like a promise before his mouth captured yours again, this time slower but just as consuming.

Without breaking the kiss, he guided you back into the living room, his hands firm as they slid around your waist, drawing you close. He lowered you onto the sofa, his lips moving from your mouth to trace a path down the curve of your neck, igniting your skin with each graze of his mouth. His hand slipped to the small of your back, pressing you deeper into the cushions as he continued kissing you, his breath warm against your skin, leaving you dizzy and yearning for more.

You moaned softly when he kissed and sucked the curve just below your collarbone. His lips pressed firmly against your skin, his mouth hot and possessive. The gentle graze of his teeth sent a jolt of desire through you, leaving you breathless and wanting for more. He lingered there, sucking and kissing with a fervor that made you ache for him, making you grind against him unconsciously.

“That’s going to show, Cameron,” you tried to scold him, breathless, feeling both exposed and exhilarated as he moved lower, tracing the outline of your neck.

A wicked smile curled at the corners of his lips, his breath warm against your skin as he murmured, “Good. I want everyone to know.” The rasp of his voice, thick with desire, made your insides flutter as he leaned in closer, his mouth capturing the tender skin just below your ear. 

He pulled back slightly, his eyes dark and hungry as they roamed over you. Your flushed skin, your red and pulped lips, and your hard nipples. He was admiring the evidence of his claim. The look in his gaze made your pulse quicken, both thrilling and intoxicating, as if he were savoring the sight of you beneath him.

“Shit! You look perfect like this,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over one of the marks he’d left behind. The softness of his touch contrasted sharply with the heat pooling in your core, making you feel both cherished and utterly desired. “Like you belong to me.”

You sat up abruptly, a surge of confidence washing over you as you peeled off your top, revealing your bare breasts to the air without a hint of shame. Maybe it was the way his eyes roamed over you, filled with wonder and desire, as if you were the most beautiful sight he had ever encountered. Or perhaps it was the intoxicating buzz of alcohol still coursing through your veins, amplifying your boldness.

Either way, you didn't care.

“I’m the luckiest motherfucker on earth,” he muttered to himself, his voice low and awestruck, before sinking back onto the sofa, his lips finding your skin with fervor. His mouth was like fire against your breasts as he sucked and kissed, igniting a wild heat within you. You threaded your fingers through his closely cropped hair, tugging gently as you lost yourself in the pleasure of his touch. His tongue flicked against your nipple, sending delicious shivers coursing through your body, and you couldn’t help but wonder how you had gone so long without him.

As his fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your pants, your breath hitched with anticipation. His hand glided up your thighs, tantalizingly close to where you needed him most. “Rafe…” you breathed, your voice trembling with longing. “Please…”

“Please what?” he challenged, his tone teasing but laced with desire. “Tell me what you need, baby.”

“Just… touch me. I want you to touch me,” you moaned, your hips instinctively rolling against his hard cock-straining against the fabric of the sweatpants you gave him.

“Touch you where?”

His playful question sent a spark of frustration through you, and instead of answering verbally, you guided his hand, placing it firmly on your pussy. “Here. Touch me here. Please…”

In an instant, your pajama pants were gone, discarded like the inhibitions that had held you back. He kissed his way down your stomach, trailing hot kisses over the fabric of your panties, before moving to the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. A shiver ran down your spine, and you couldn’t resist glancing down at him, but something tugged at your thoughts. You called out his name, your voice breathy.

“Yes, baby?” he replied, looking up with hunger.

“Take it off.” You pointed at his shirt, and without hesitation, he stripped it off in one smooth motion, revealing his chiseled torso. He climbed over you, his body hovering just above yours, radiating warmth and strength. You couldn’t help but reach out, exploring his body—his hair, his lips, his broad chest, and the defined muscles of his abs.

With a sudden intensity, he kissed you again, their lips melding together as if they were made for one another. But after a moment that felt too short, he pulled away and descended between your legs once more.

Just the image of him between your legs could make you come.

“God, I want to taste you,” he groaned, his fingers touching your clit through your panties. “Tell me, pretty, do you want me to taste you?”

You nodded.

“Words, baby.”

“I do,” you moaned, your nails digging into his shoulders as you wrapped your legs around him. “I want you so fucking much, gosh!”

As the heat in the room swelled, just when you thought Rafe would finally remove your underwear, he suddenly stopped. His hands ran frantically through his hair as he began to pace around your living room, his agitation palpable. Confusion washed over you, your brow furrowing in concern as you sat up.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “Rafe, please talk to me. What’s going on?”

“I can’t do it,” he said, shaking his head, the anguish in his eyes cutting through the atmosphere like a knife. “I can’t do this—”

“Do what? What are you talking about?” Panic tightened your chest as you searched his face for answers.

“Have sex with you,” he finally admitted, his gaze finally locking onto yours. “I can’t have sex with you, Y/N.”

The world around you faded, and a cold wave of vulnerability crashed over you, leaving you feeling exposed and raw. Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes as you scrambled to grab your black top from the floor, pulling it over your head, a desperate attempt to cover not just your body but the aching hurt in your heart. “Wha… why? Why can’t you? We were doing so well… I thought it was good.”

Rafe stepped closer, his expression softening but shadowed with pain. He cupped your cheeks in his warm hands, but instead of comfort, it felt worsel. His eyes shimmered with unshed tears as he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, as if he were trying to transfer some of his strength to you. But then, he turned and walked toward the hallway to put on his shoes, and the ache in your chest grew.

You couldn’t let him leave like this. Panic surged through you as you sprang to your feet, rushing to the door to block his path. “Tell me why,” you insisted, your voice cracking as you wiped away the tears that had begun to fall.

“Y/N, you’re drunk…”

“So are you! You’re tipsy!” you threw your arms up in frustration. “Why does that matter? I want you. You want me—”

“Because I don’t want you to regret it,” he said, his voice breaking as if the words were tearing him apart. He sighed deeply, the weight of his decision hanging heavy between you. “I don’t want you to hate yourself when you wake up in the morning because you slept with me.”

“That’s not going to happen, Rafe. Please don’t leave. Stay here with me—we don’t have to do anything,” you pleaded, desperation dripping from your every word. 

But his mind was made up. He leaned in, brushing his lips softly against yours one last time, a sweet farewell filled with unspoken emotions. As he asked you to step aside, you felt a piece of your heart crack. You moved reluctantly, watching as he walked toward the elevator, each step echoing in your mind like a countdown to the end.

Just before the doors closed, he turned back, his expression a mixture of regret and sorrow that mirrored your own. “I am sorry, sweetheart.”

And then he was gone.

Since then, you haven't heard from him in two weeks.

chapter six

[mind-intheclouds342]

Do it for them - Co-captain reader x Curly

Previous - Part 9 - Next

You banged on the door of the room where that man was locked up, waking him up abruptly.

"Let's talk"

Jimmy: "I thought visiting hours were over."

He complained, turning around to turn his back to the door.

"Don't try to be funny with me, Jimmy. What the hell did we do to deserve so much hate from you?"

Jimmy: "Don't play innocent, you know very well what you did!"

"Honestly, I have no idea! That's why I'm asking you!"

Jimmy: "Of course, because I was always the shadow of your dear husband. You never turned to look at me again after you got with him, you never smiled at me like you did with him, you didn't even speak to me. It was as if I were invisible to you!"

"Oh, of course I was looking at you!"

Jimmy: "Then why didn't you ever tell me anything?!"

He shouted that, getting up from his bed to head towards the glass that separated them, watching your face to see you when you replied.

"BECAUSE I'VE ALWAYS HATED YOU!"

You screamed with all your lungs, to the point of making your throat hurt.

"You always brought trouble to Curly! He was always so naive, a sucker for approval, of being the good guy in the story, of not letting anyone down! That's why he never abandoned you! I knew better that's why i stopped talking with you! Because you were and are a piece of shit!" 

Jimmy: "Oh, but you talk as if I were the only fucked up one in the story."

"Yes! I admit it! I was also a mess when I met Curly, but I did something, I was able to see beyond that mess I was, he showed me that I could improve, he gave me opportunities that I knew how to take advantage of and become a better person! In someone who could make his mother proud instead of making her cry because she didn't know if he was coming home or not!"

There was a silence when you finished saying that, until you saw him smirk, that reaction you didn't like at all.

Jimmy: "You're right, Curly loves to please, you should know that very well."

"Ugh, for the love of God, I don't know why I try to reason with you, it's impossible."

Jimmy: "But you were the only one who refused to give in to make me happy."

You opened your eyes wide upon hearing that, turning again to the man who still wore that smug smile.

Jimmy: "Just as beautiful and messed up as I am, I thought you would understand me, but then you became a good girl, yet I still hoped you would look at me..."

"Shut up-"

Jimmy: "Oh, and the damn way Curly talked about you, how incredible you are, so kind, hardworking, so beautiful."

"I tell you to shut up-"

Jimmy: "Those lovely moles in the center of your chest that look like a constellation"

"He wouldn't talk about those things with you!"

Jimmy: "I saw it myself"

You felt like you were going to puke at that moment, you didn't want to believe that he had really done something like that to you while you were unconscious, you didn't want your suspicions to be confirmed, you refused to believe it.

"Liar. Anya wouldn't leave me alone, she would lock the nursery door-" 

Jimmy: "Yes, yes, she did that, it was a pain in the ass. Every night when she went to sleep, she locked the nursery with that code that only Curly and she knew... But that place wasn't closed while someone was inside."

"She wouldn't let you get close to me!"

Jimmy: "They were so sweet, Anya staying by your side saying she had to make sure all your signs were okay, and when she left, she would ask Swansea if he could keep an eye on you. But he was so depressed that he didn't dare to stay with you for long, so... I took his place to make sure you were okay."

"In front of Curly..."

You murmured at having to imagine the scene your husband had to witness without being able to do anything about it other than watch.

Jimmy: "That was the funniest thing"

You hugged tightly, feeling a horrible tingling all over your body, as if you were dirty.

Jimmy: "Swansea had no idea about anything, Anya didn't want to talk about it with anyone else. Thanks to her silence, I was able to finally look at that body that you always hide from me, thanks to Swansea's stupidity and feeling sad for his little captain, feeling all guilty and shit."

Swansea: "What did he just say..." 

You turned to see Swansea at the end of the hallway, carrying Jimmy's rations, holding an axe firmly in the other hand; he had managed to hear everything.

"Swansea-"

Swansea: "Open the door, captain"

"Listen - it's not worth it, do you have any idea what they'll do to you if they find out you hurt someone from the crew? Please, I don't want them to lock you up." 

You said immediately, positioning yourself in front of him, trying to get him to see you, but his eyes were glued to the door where he could see Jimmy's face.

Swansea: "How are they going to know? Let's say it was an accident. Open the door!"

You wanted to keep reasoning with him, but you couldn't deny that you also wished he would face consequences for his actions.

You took the axe from his hands, making him look at you annoyed.

"I won't take the risk of you killing him."

Those were your last words before opening the door, Swansea didn't take much more than a few seconds to fully open the door, step inside, and throw himself at Jimmy.

You could hear the sound of the blows, the insults, and the screams.

You stood at the door wide open, axe in hand, watching as the blood spread across the floor with each blow Swansea dealt.

You watched Jimmy and tilted your head, waiting for him to defend himself.

You wouldn't hesitate to cut off his hands if he touched Swansea.

[talesof-old]

honeyed tale | l.v.

pairing(s): lucien vanserra x fem!reader

warning(s): 18+, smut, mentions of B*ron, rough(ish?) sex, outdoor sex, chasing, not edited so if you see a mistake no you didn’t

word count: 2.7k

masterlist

lupercalia is always eventful in the autumn court

Lucien downed a mug filled with spiced cider and eyed the scene in front of him. Childhood nostalgia gripped him just the same as bitter grief, and he didn’t truly know why he agreed to come in the first place. Maybe it was because Eris was his last living brother after all the madness. Or maybe it was the way his mother had pleaded for him to return despite it all.

He set his drink down. Music was being played by a group of younger fae, leaving everyone else to dance around the giant bonfire, bob for apples, or hang around the many tables of food and drinks. Barrels of ale, spiced cider, and mead lined the clearing they’d taken up residence in.

By now, the revel was in full swing. Laughter echoed through the trees and Lucien was certain he’d already seen at least five different couplings make off into the woods. Anticipation hung in the air for the coming main event, something that would start any moment now. Adults had long since ushered children into bed, and now all that remained were those participating.

His eyes scanned the crowd, shoulders tense.

“You seem off tonight, sunshine.” His heartbeat jumped as he turned to you, a grin already washing over your face.

Dressed in a low cut red dress with far too many slits up the thighs, he knew very well you’d be joining in the festivities of the night. Still, he couldn’t help the way he longed to caress your exposed skin. Your smile turned knowing, and before he could react you were looping your arm with his and pulling him away.

The heat of your body made his throat go dry.

You’d grown into yourself in the time you’d both been apart.

You dragged Lucien away from the table, unsure if he’d seen his eldest brother approaching or if he was distracted. Growing up in the Forest House, the two of you had been thick as thieves. Chasing after each other in the gilded corridors and sharing hidden tender moments in the apple orchards. Over time, however, you found yourself far from the Autumn Court and Lucien found himself a lover by the name Jesminda.

It hadn’t hurt as much as you’d expected it to. Following her death, Eris and you ensured Lucien’s passage to the Spring Court and you minded your own, keeping far from the youngest Vanserra in order to protect your courtly position. Now, you both were finally free of one Beron Vanserra.

“Are you staying tonight?” Lucien swallowed hard, his gaze trained on your face with an intensity you hadn’t had the chance to experience.

The edges of his lips quirked upwards in a smirk you could only describe as wolfish. You raised a brow.

“Is this you asking me to stay, little fox?” You tilted your head to the side, a calculating move he knew better than to dismiss.

“Depends,” you purred. The two of you slowly made your way towards the barrels of mead, and briefly you recalled the last time the two of you got drunk off of it together. You stopped, leaning towards him.

“Thinking about chasing after me tonight?”

Lucien leaned closer towards you, his scent enveloping you. Spices undercut with something bright and green, familiar enough it made your heart ache.

He pushed a stray curl from your face, the warmth of his fingertips sending shockwaves through your skin.

“Would you like me to?” His voice rumbled deep in his chest.

Desire shot through you, but you merely leaned back until you were standing straight again, a playful smile on your face. Off to the left, you saw several of Eris’ lords reaching for the giant bell they’d set up. You couldn’t have timed it better.

“Yes.”

One of them hit it hard, the sound echoing through the clearing. For a few seconds, everyone paused. In true Lupercalia fashion though, those deciding to be prey took off sprinting, and you were no exception.

Laughter and playful shrieks filled the air as you wove through the trees. A few of the male chasers were mock howling, and the sound carried as though the forest itself was making the noise.

Adrenaline rushed through your veins. Maybe Lucien would cave and follow you, maybe it would be someone else who decided to instead. Either way, you were going to get fucked tonight until your legs were weak as a fawn and your mind cloudy.

Lucien blinked at the spot where you’d been standing. You hadn’t seriously run off like that, had you?

Then again, it was you, ever mischievous as a fox.

He moved to run after you, but a fleeting thought made him pause.

Did he really want the first time he had sex with you again to be in the middle of the forest, surrounded by others doing the same?

He shook his head. That part didn’t matter. He wanted you, and clearly you wanted him.

To hell with it.

He broke into the tree line, catching your scent up ahead of him. His ears strained to hear something, anything, as he pressed forward.

You were a wild thing, blazing and brilliant, and he’d be damned if someone got to you first.

A tree branch cracked behind you and you turned, catching a flash of dark brown hair. Lord Asters had been after you for decades, so it was no surprise he had immediately come after you. Handsome and strong. He’d gained quite a reputation on how well he pleased women.

Still, disappointment stirred in your gut, strong enough to send you racing deeper into the orchard. A whistle came from somewhere behind you, your heartbeat racing.

Asters’ scent filled the air, earthy and damp but not unappealing. You almost caved, almost let him catch you, until you caught sight of a certain redhead in the corner of your eye. Your stomach fluttered.

In a matter of moments, you were dancing away from Asters’ fingertips and rushing past Lucien, his golden eye gleaming in the dim light.

Laughter bubbled out of your mouth and into the air, leading Lucien right to the oldest part of the orchard. As you darted through the trees, they were taller and wider, their roots curling as your feet bounced against the ground. Lucien said something behind you, just feet away.

Your legs burned as you ducked to the right, throwing him off and grinning to yourself. A groan of half-hearted annoyance sounded behind you.

Deeper in the woods and off to your right, you heard the tell tale sound of someone long caught.

Heat pooled in your stomach and Lucien swore viciously. Vigor renewed, you pushed on until you reached the oldest orchard trees, massive and looming. You no longer heard Lucien behind you but you knew exactly where he’d meet you.

You ran along the border of apple trees. Their limbs reached for you, the leaves whispering as you passed.

Years ago, the two of you would sneak away from Forest House, all childhood innocence and young love. High Lord Beron sent you away to stay with your cousins in an attempt to control his youngest son. Your heart pinched at the painful memories of your youth. You turned the last corner, coming to a small cave made entirely of tree roots. Impossibly dark on the inside, it did nothing to hide the glowing of Lucien’s golden eye. You grinned despite yourself.

A tanned hand reached out and snatched your wrist. You squealed, stumbling into his lap. The hardness of his erection pressed up against your cunt as you settled, legs straddling his hips. He hissed.

You couldn’t help it, you rocked your hips along the hardness, eyes fluttering close at the wanted friction. Lucien’s hands grasped at your hips, halting your mission. You opened your eyes, a playful pout on your lips. Lucien stared at you with an intensity you’d caught a glimpse of earlier, some kind of wildness that you’d never been privy to.

His chest rumbled in appreciation as his hands began to move, featherlight as he grazed the bare skin of your legs. “You look beautiful tonight, little fox.” He lifted you away from his cock. Goosebumps formed on your skin as his fingers trailed far up your inner thigh, almost to the place you needed him. You nearly whined when he stopped just short of your cunt.

“A little eager,” He leaned close to you, breath fanning your face. You shivered. “Aren’t we?”

The edges of his lips quirked up to form a smirk. You rolled your eyes, flashing a soft smile in response.

His arms wrapped around you, gently unlacing the back of your dress, each loosened string drawing a shaky breath from your lungs. As he moved, copper hair fell over his shoulder. Instinctively, you reached out, brushing it away with a tenderness that had him reeling. Your frame leaned into his; your face pressed into his neck, pressing kisses to the sensitive skin in ways that brought him back to a time he’d long forgotten.

He pulled the sleeves of your dress from your body, the fabric falling down your torso to reveal heaving breasts. In a blink, he’d moved you backwards and latched onto your nipple. You arched, fingers coming round to tangle in his hair. He moaned at the sting.

You tilted to the side, an awkward position, but rubbed your cunt against the fabric of his pants. The friction had your eyes rolling backwards. He tugged at the sides of your dress, the fabric tearing away with a simple pull. If you weren’t so ready to jump him bones, perhaps you would’ve cared.

Instead, you flung the fabric away, Lucien’s mouth attaching to your other nipple. His tongue swirled along the pebbled flesh, teeth grazing the sensitive nub. You gasped, a soft whine leaving your throat. His wicked tongue made thoughts impossible.

Lucien sucked hard on your skin before letting it go with a satisfying pop. He briefly wondered how long it would take to make a mosaic of bites along your body. As he straightened his back, he gazed up at your blown out pupils and glassy eyes. Heat swelled in his cock, heady and incessant, urging him to sink into you. He unlaced his pants with practiced hands, fingers deftly removing them from his body. You lifted your hips to allow for the fabric to drop to his ankles.

Ignoring the way his cock slapped against his abdomen, he wasted no time; Lucien’s fingers found your wet cunt, tugging you back to hover over him and stroking your lower lips before sinking the tip of his finger into you. You moaned, a lewd sound. He chuckled, dark and low, the noise vibrating through your very bones. You rocked your hips against his hand, letting his middle finger sink deeper and deeper until you were as far as you could go. Your cunt clenched around his digit, your juices coating his hand as you used him for your pleasure. As your hips rolled away, he added his ring finger into the mix. You slowly sank onto it, eyes fluttering.

His cock twitched beneath you, aching to replace his fingers. You didn’t seem to mind either way, rocking back and forth, lips parted and head tilted back. He leaned forward, licking a stripe along the column of your throat, grinning as you mewled at the feeling.

Your cunt pulsed against his fevered skin and dripped onto his thighs. Coated them. He withdrew his fingers with an obscene squelch, bringing them to your lips. Despite your whine, you parted them; you took them into your mouth without hesitation, tongue swirling along the lengths of them, from the knuckles to the tips of his fingers. His cock throbbed, turning darker as the seconds ticked on.

It took no time at all to ease into you, your walls clenching tight around his cock, pushing him closer to his own orgasm. He clenched his jaw, a moan bubbling up in his throat.

“Let me hear you.” Your voice took a seductive turn, raspy and low as you spoke into his ear. The vibration of your chest rumbled against his. He lifted his arm to snake around your waist, locking you in as he bottomed out. You moaned at the fullness.

“You like to hear me, hm? Like how you can turn a male into a whimpering mess.”

You’d pulled away enough to send him a wicked grin, raising his free hand to your throat. He groaned at the action. His fingers dug into your skin, your eyelids rolling back at the feeling.

He moved his hips, though the roots digging into his back were enough to cause him to huff in discomfort. He hoisted you up, the two of you nearly falling as he moved you from a sitting position to lying on the bare ground.

“Reminds me of when we were younger.” His golden eye gleamed in the dim light. Your heart thundered in your chest at the feral expression he wore.

“But what I like has changed, I’m afraid.” You raised a brow, undulating your hips beneath his. Lucien’s head dipped down to lick the sweat from between your breasts, teeth grazing the burning skin. You clenched around him.

Like something unlocked within him, Lucien pulled out of you until only the tip remained before ramming back into you. A cry left your lips, your parted legs coming to wrap around his muscular thighs. His pace proved brutal. He rocked into your body with a force that had you reeling, the ache far more pleasurable than you might’ve expected. This was what you wanted.

Sweat coated his smooth skin, his back flexing under your hands as you raked your nails along his exposed skin. You gripped the nape of his neck with one hand, your other digging into the skin of his shoulder as he sucked on your clavicle. He trembled as you clenched tighter around him. Lips pressed to the side of his face, your teeth tugged on the lobe of his ear; he swore through clenched teeth.

You matched his thrusts, his fingers far more expert than they’d been, circling your sensitive, throbbing clit as he moved. The itch to pull his hair but you with overwhelming need. Your fingers slid up his head, locking and twisting in his beautiful strands, and yanked. The next moan to leave his lips was a broken, pathetic noise. One russet eye made contact with your own. His already full lips were swollen, wet with saliva. Lucien’s responding grin had your cunt pulsing. He dipped back down, mouth enclosing around your previously abused nipple. You cried out. His hands gripped your hips, urging you to bend into his with every motion. His teeth grazed your hardened tit. You moaned.

He kept up his pace on your clit, your walls fluttering and thighs quivering. Minutes rushed by and time blurred as you came undone by his hand, head thrown back against the ground and back arched; your breasts rubbing against his chest was enough to send him off the edge, your cunt squeezed tight around his cock to milk him for every drop.

When you came down, body limp and only partly satiated, Lucien laid down beside you, fingers trailing along your sticky body. You hummed, curling into his side. His body radiated heat which proved quite welcome in the biting Autumn air. His arm wrapped around your waist, palm gripping your arse as you lifted a leg to rest it on his.

“It’s good to see you again, you know. Missed you all those years.” Lucien’s lips twisted into a smirk, his eyes closing as he attempted to steady his breath. You kept your gaze on him. Eyes trailed over the curve of his jaw, the shape of his nose. He had been handsome before, but the years away had created him a devastatingly beautiful visage.

A moment’s silence was all you were given before he opened his eye and peeked over at you. “Tapping out on me already?”

You grinned. “If we both can still walk, I’m not done.” His chuckle echoed through the cave before he hoisted you up to straddle him. “Fuck me then.”

+++

[abyssal-ilk]

blight, i've been replaying dai and just got to the scene where vivienne tells a mage inquisitor "mages need the company of our fellows. those without magic can never truly understand us" and i am so unwell over it

YEAH. YEAH. gnawing on the many dynamics a mage inquisitor can have with vivienne, but that line especially gets to me. it's that line and when vivienne talks about what happens when young mages first come into their power ("a girl setting the barn on fire/a boy tearing his mother apart with lightning."). i would of loved to have known what her first experience with magic was and how much comfort she actually finds alongside other mages. despite all of the connections she seemingly has in the circle and the courts, vivienne has always read as someone being extremely,, idk. lonesome to me. she has allies. not friends.

which is why i love having mage inquisitors that are able to connect with vivienne at least on the idea that mages need each other. especially in a time where mages are being blamed for anything and everything and everyone is at each other's throats

[starspunt]

. . . 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓

── KINICH + gn!reader

synopsis: kinich liked to get away from the busy city, and sit in the saccharine embrace of your company.

warnings: fluff, pining!childhood friends, mentions food/beverages, modern!au, city/park setting, college!au, mentions exams/studying, kinich playing romance sims is canon to me btw (wc. 705)

note: this is a repost from my old blog.

kinich was a man of few words, able to get his point across without opening his mouth for long. he said things with such confidence, without room for negotiation. you supposed that’s how you found yourself sharing a picnic blanket just off the bank of a stream with him. you’re not entirely sure how he convinced you to come out, but chalked it up to the mushy soft spot you had for him.

you should’ve been at home in your dorm, studying for your exams in your cozy pajamas, with your favorite candle burning and a mug of tea in your hands. maybe you’d even read more of the book series you’d recently gotten into. yes, you easily could’ve pictured it, as you’ve done it more times than you could count.

what you could not have pictured, however, was this scenario. it felt like a scene out of the romance sims you knew mualani would make fun of if she found out kinich secretly played them. flowers bloomed and blossomed all around you, bright bursts of color dotting a lush carpet of vibrant green.

the two of you were thigh to thigh on the short blanket, and a cliche picnic basket sat innocently off to the other side of kinich, and you prayed he couldn’t hear the thundering of your heartbeat. he sat next to you stiffly, pointedly trying not show how much your close proximity and cloyingly sweet scent made him dizzy. he didn’t know whether to praise or berate his past self for not grabbing a larger blanket. 

he could feel the comforting warmth of your skin through your clothes from where you pressed against him, and he felt his breath stutter in his throat. he was glad you were so used to his silence and easily filled the gaps in the conversation with casual chatter. you told him about your studies, the new stationary you just got, and even the campus cat you tend to feed.

while you were stuck in your own world, raving about the convenience store dinner you had last night, your words went in through one ear and out the other. kinich couldn’t help but admire you as you talked so animatedly. the way your eyes widened when you got expressive, the creases around your mouth when you frowned or smiled, or the quick flash of your tongue from behind your teeth.

he admired the depth of your voice, and how you were able to shift it through five different emotions in a few sentences. he admired how you were able to brighten the very air around you, making it feel lighter and more fulfilling as it filled his lungs. it was like you were very thing that let him breathe easy.

he didn’t know how he managed to have you in his life, let alone what he did to make you stay. he used to thank his lucky stars that you stayed, silently thanking you for loving him. silently thanking you for choosing to love him, when you could’ve had anyone else. when you could’ve had someone better.

“kinich?” your honeyed voice pulled him from his thoughts gently, like a soothing serenade composed just for him. his stunning eyes blinked at you, regaining himself as he peered into yours. “thought i lost you for a second. are you alright? you were staring at me.” you gave him that crooked, half smile you gave him whenever he got too quiet.

nodding in confirmation, he turned to pull out your favorite sweets. the fondness he held for you returned in his eyes as he watched you sparkle. when you launched into a full explanation on how to make the said sweets, this time he listened intensely, committing your words to memory and into the you-shaped spot in his heart. 

when you broke off part of your pastry and offered it to him, he thought he might just implode. even more so when you fed the bite to him, the tip of your finger grazing his bottom lip. and when you looked at him with that adoring gaze and tender smile, saying his name in that dulcet tone, he thought that you must feel the same way that he did.

starspunt 2024. do not rewrite, repost, modify, or translate.

[ladysomething]

girl!!!! we deserve a snippet after this cunty race!!! pleaseee 🤩

weeellllll .. I could do a snippet early ... considering I've got something else cooking for tomorrow.

something a little different today, because the scene I've added below might not be exactly what ends up in the chapter next week. its currently unedited, so, yeah. maybe not the final version!

“—a rut hotel?” Lando says incredulously from outside. 

Charles’ ears prick, lifting his head and opening his eyes to stare out the doorway. He hadn’t been listening to their conversation before, so engrossed in his own, but now that it’s silent in the kitchen he can hear them clearly. 

“Just stop,” Max sighs tiredly. “Lando, seriously. It’s none of your business what I do during my rut.” 

Charles’ stomach swoops uncomfortably. 

“I just don’t understand,” Lando says, an edge of desperation to his voice. “Why do you even—what’s the difference between me and him? You can’t spend your rut with him, he clearly can’t cook or take care of the house, and you expect me to believe that you, you, haven’t already knocked him up? So clearly he can’t even do that—” 

“Stop right there,” Max hisses. He sounds furious, and Charles knows exactly the strong icy scent that’s probably wafting off of him right now. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that, because you’re my friend and I know that this isn’t you. I know that you’re too angry and jealous to understand why what you just said is so cruel, but you need to think about why I might take so much offence to what you implied about both him and me.” 

Charles’ breath catches in his throat as Lando goes quiet. He stares out at the open door, a complexity of emotions swirling in his stomach and making it churn. 

“I’m not saying anything about you,” Lando says after a moment, clearly defensive. “I just meant—well, I know how much you want kids, so if he can’t give them to you then—” 

“So we’re clear,” Max interrupts coldly, “I don’t love him because of what he can give me or do for me. I don’t want him because he’s an omega. I want him because he’s Charles. Don’t ever get that confused again.” 

Oh. 

Oh, Charles feels—

His throat goes tight, overwhelmed at the sudden warmth creeping through his chest. Hearing him say that, that he loves him, that he wants him for him . . . and he’s not saying it for Charles, to change his mind or sway his opinion or make excuses. He’s defending him to Lando, somebody he likes and is friends with, because he genuinely believes that what he’s saying is true. 

“Max,” Lando says, voice shaking. 

“Lando, please,” Max sighs, and this time he sounds exhausted. “You’re my friend. I’m sorry that I can’t give you more than that, but it’s the truth. Please just be my friend.”  

[heeseung64]

MATCH FOUND

how long should y/n keep her secret that she's a big time player in league of legends, especially when she's always up against her best friend every night?

CHILDHOOD BESTFRIENDS TO LOVERS! GAMER HEESEUNG + GOODGRADES Y/N / SECRET GAMER Y/N. EARLY COLLEGE AU. ANGST. FLUFF. COMEDY.

contents.

04. IM.. HUNGRY?

______________________________________________________________

"oh yeah, heeseung's at your door." jake blurts, shoving his phone into his back pocket as he continues to tap his pencil against his clipboard. "so what you're saying is, if i ult too quick i'd be vulnerable against the enemy jhin?" jake scratches his head, causing y/n to shake her head vigorously, "yes, but-- wait." she pauses, gripping jake's shoulders so much that he winces. "heeseung's here?"

ㅡmore under the cut ♡。

"um- ah.. hi." heeseung's gasps for air came to a halt as he sees y/n at the door. jake, who was in view of heeseung from the dining table across the hallway- chuckles. "what are you doing here?" y/n furrows her brows, reading heeseung's eyes, trying to see beyond his intention.

"i was.. hungry..?" heeseung couldn't even foster up the reason why he was here either. y/n lets him in anyway, watching his eyebrow cock up as he figured the lame excuse worked. "what are you cooking anyway?" heeseung clears his throat, his leather jacket falling off of his shoulders as he puts them on the half broken coat hanger, the one he fixed twice for y/n's dad.

"unfortunately i cooked your favourite." she mumbles, sitting next to jake as she offers a chair, already having a set of plates and utensils for him to have. it was a common thing they shared between theirs, to have dinner so casually when one was over, and to this day- to eat it together- maybe.

lately, things started to feel awkward over the summer- when quick glances would linger, and the brushing of hands would jolt the heart. heeseung was quick to notice the constant rejection of him coming over, thinking it was just because she was busy (because in truth, she was), but he just couldn't get over the fact as to why he was so upset.

heeseung can't seem to fathom why he's upset looking at y/n next to jake either.

but they're just friends. we're just friends.

heeseung shook the thought away, erupting his head- aware of the laughter that fills the dining room.

"you should've seen the look on sunoo's face!" jake cackled, reaching out his chopsticks to quickly tear off the perilla leaves for y/n.

"hee?" y/n catches heeseung's attention, the nickname springing into his hear. "you want some of the leaves?" y/n was quick to notice how his eyes pierced daggers into the leaves, assuming he was just hungry- as always. "yeah." he could only say, taking a bunch before throwing it in his mouth.

"so, when are you going home, jake?" heeseung asks, murmuring through his chews. "home?" jake starts, chucking a laugh before replying, "i just got here! im gonna play on ms star-" y/n was quick to punch him before he could complete his words- "im gonna play on this girl's pc." he crosses his brows, rubbing his arm as he pans back to heeseung, who narrows his eyes.

"and you're gonna allow that?" he looks at y/n, who in return, shrugs, smiling innocently back at him. "yeah, why not?"

"let me watch then," heeseung pans, standing up as he brings his plates to y/n's kitchen. "why not give the girl a try too." he teases. as heeseung's back faces the two, y/n exchanges looks. "how about i pretend to teach you!" jake whispers, "it'll be funny." he then says aloud, causing heeseung to butt in, "yeah," he says, looking straight into her eyes. "c'mon. it'll be funny."

ㅡ

heeseung did not find it funny at all.

looking at the way jake hovers over y/ns shoulders, hand over hers, guiding the mouse, fingers carelessly caressing hers on the keyboard, his lips. god. its too close to her face!

he crosses his arms as he leans against the bed frame, phone in hand yet his eyes unwavering to the scene beyond him.

"you're teaching her wrong-" "like you'd teach me any better." y/n was quick to dismiss heeseung's remarks, which often lead to him scoffing.

"alright, how about i play a game now." jake rolls his eyes at their bitter remarks, getting on y/n's chair as she exchanges a crooked smile. "show the rest of the boys what you learnt from me." she encourages jake in whispers, earning a raised brow from heeseung, who was spending all his attention on her- annoyingly.

"why are you all so close to jake?" heeseung scoffs, eyes glued to his phone, afraid to look at her in the eyes. y/n scoots closer to the centre of the bed, facing heeseung in her fluffy pajamas, while he- in his hoodie and sweatpants- turns away, huffing like a kid. "i can't be close to my best friend?"

best friend? heeseung bitterly coughs

"well-" heeseung hesitates, "im also here!" he quickly iterates, causing y/n to blush.

fuck. it's hard not to tell him. y/n's thoughts echo.

"last time i talked to you, you basically flamed me for everything."

"well thats because, you've been annoying me lately."

"then why are you here?"

"because.. i.. i was.." heeseung wanted to rip out his hair, so confused at this feeling of fright, heat pooling at his throat- trying to fire up the words that jay had texted to the group chat-

"hungry." jake answers for him, "the man wanted your food as always."

"fuck you hee, if you got your food, then you can leave." y/n slightly pouts, hating to hear the fact that heeseung was only here for some free food.

"fine." heeseung stands up, towering over y/n, looking at all of her body and face, reading it before he leaves, quietly dismissing himself out the door.

"he was jealous." jake admitted, startling the stubborn y/n who was standing there, frustrated out of her mind.

"no, he's just an asshole." she murmurs, hugging her pillow from her bed as she watches jake throw badly on the game for the umpteenth time. "say what you want, but not giving him attention like that makes him grumpy." jake outwardly says, causing the rest of the boys in her loud headphones to agree.

"you should defs check up on him, just for a bit." jake suggests, but y/n was stubborn. "whatever, ill text him."

"no stream til he leaves?" jake chuckles, "it seems your problems are gonna overlap and get worse." he says, patting y/n's back as she huffs. "i should really start dropping hints.."

taglist:

@honeybelleee @firstclassjaylee @jungwonsjellies @skepvids @succodifragole @nikiswifiee @mochiwonz @champangejournal @strayy-kidz @who-tf-soddhi @beijinkaoya @hoonieyun @jiiyen @moonlitorbit @ritahyelee-blog @bbbonni @a-warners-girl0-0 @seungminsapuppy

[movingmusically]

Caught Feeling: Pages and Promises - One Shot

Author’s Note:

I saw these set photos today and kind of lost my mind. Just smut, I know others have done it better, but it seems now I’ve started writing I can’t stop… so here you go!

Word Count: 8,548

Masterlist

The book had a chokehold on me. From the moment I’d picked it up, I hadn’t been able to stop reading, completely immersed in the characters’ world and their sizzling, almost unbearable chemistry. Hours had passed with me curled up on the couch, my legs tucked under me, and my breath hitching at every intense scene.

Hank had been observing me from his usual spot, a bemused smile playing on his lips. He couldn’t seem to help himself. Eventually, he ambled over and dropped down at the other end of the couch, giving me a once-over.

“You’ve been in the same spot for hours,” he teased, his voice deep and full of warmth. “I swear, I could’ve set the apartment on fire and you wouldn’t have noticed.”

I laughed, hugging the book closer to my chest. “It’s just really good,” I defended, glancing at him with a grin. “You’d understand if you were reading it.”

His eyebrows rose, and the curiosity in his expression sharpened. “Want to put that to the test?” He held out his hand. “Hand it over. I’ll read to you.”

I stared at him, momentarily caught off guard. “You’re serious?” I asked, even though the idea made my heart race.

He smirked. “Of course. What, you don’t think I can handle your little romance novel?” The challenge glinted in his eyes, and it was too tempting to resist.

With a huff of amusement, I handed the book over. “Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you,” I said, shifting around so I was lying down, my head propped at the opposite end of the couch, my feet resting in his lap. The position was comfortable, but there was a dangerous thrill in the way he settled his hand on my ankle, a casual touch that made my skin feel hot.

Hank cleared his throat, opening to the bookmarked page. “Alright,” he said, his voice dropping into that smooth, soothing register that always made me feel like I was floating. “Let’s see what’s got you so hooked.”

He began to read, and I immediately regretted—no, relished—my decision. The sound of his voice rolling over the words was intoxicating. Every sentence took on a new weight, dripping with a sensual undertone that was definitely not present when I read silently. My heart pounded faster, and I felt my whole body start to respond.

“You know,” I teased, half-joking but entirely sincere, “you really should consider a career narrating audiobooks. You’re too good at this.”

He chuckled, a rumble that made my toes curl. “I’ll add it to my list of backup plans,” he said, and his thumb brushed gently over my ankle, a movement so subtle and casual yet unbearably intimate.

I closed my eyes, letting the sound of his voice wash over me. The scene he read was a turning point, where the main characters finally gave in to the undeniable attraction that had been crackling between them. I was fully absorbed, both in the story and in how Hank’s voice grew huskier as he read, his breath hitching at certain words.

“Her pulse thundered under his lips,” he read, his voice a low murmur that made my own pulse jump. “His hands mapped her body like he was memorising every curve, his touch leaving trails of fire in its wake.”

There was a beat of silence as he hesitated, and I glanced up to see his cheeks flushing slightly, his grip tightening on the book. “Want me to skip this part?” he asked, a teasing edge to his voice, but I could hear the nervousness there too.

I grinned, biting my lip. “Absolutely not,” I replied, though my voice was breathier than I’d intended. “Keep going.”

He took a shaky breath, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he forced himself to continue. “She arched into him, her skin hot and her breath coming out in ragged gasps, the feel of him making her dizzy with want…”

He read, his voice low and rich, and I couldn’t ignore the way it seemed to caress every syllable, each word sinking into my skin and setting it ablaze. My whole body was buzzing with a restless energy, a heat that pooled between my thighs and made my breath catch. I could feel how tightly wound I’d become, my senses honed in on every tiny detail: the way Hank’s fingers flexed slightly around the book, the way his breathing grew a fraction heavier as he spoke, the tension in his shoulders that mirrored the tension humming through me.

The thought of what I was about to do sent a thrill through me, a heady mix of anticipation and nervous excitement. I knew he could see me, that he could watch every little reaction, and the idea made my pulse race even faster. My heart thumped in my chest, and I couldn’t stop myself from wondering how he’d respond, if he’d be as affected as I was. The risk, the vulnerability, the delicious ache of wanting to be seen—it all heightened the thrill.

With my decision made, I let my hands wander, slowly and deliberately, over my stomach and down to the waistband of my shorts, my movements unhurried but full of purpose. Anticipation crackled through me, and when my fingers slipped beneath the fabric, I let out a soft, involuntary sigh, the sensation magnified by the intensity of the moment.

Hank’s voice stumbled, and his eyes snapped to where my hand was moving beneath my shorts. His pupils dilated, and he let out a shaky breath, his chest rising and falling faster. He kept reading, but his voice had thickened, and I could see how much effort it was taking him to focus on the words.

“Her nails raked down his back,” he read, the tension evident in his voice. “His name fell from her lips, a desperate, breathless plea…”

My own breath came out in gasps, and I knew he could see how much I was enjoying this. My other hand slid up to tug at my top, exposing more skin, and I arched my back, moaning softly. The teasing, the display—I wanted him to see everything.

Hank’s hand on my ankle tightened, and he leaned forward, the book slipping from his grasp. “Fuck,” he whispered, his voice breaking. His gaze was ravenous, and he looked like he was about to crawl over and join me, his desire barely restrained.

But I wasn’t ready to let him have his way. When he shifted forward, I pressed my foot against his chest, stopping him in his tracks. His eyes widened, and a groan rumbled out of him, his self-control hanging by a thread.

“No,” I commanded, my voice husky, but firm. I spread my legs wider, the invitation undeniable, but I kept him in place. “You have to finish reading.”

He swallowed hard, his hands shaking as he picked up the book again. His eyes never left mine, full of heat and hunger, and the struggle to obey was clear on his face. “You’re—” He stopped himself, the words catching in his throat. Instead, he took a steadying breath and tried to continue, his voice rough.

I let my fingers move against myself, the wet heat only intensifying as I kept teasing him with my foot, pressing into the growing bulge straining against his pants. The moans that slipped from my lips were shameless, and I could see the way his hands clenched the book, his knuckles white with tension.

Hank’s voice was ragged as he whispered, “Please baby,” and it sent a thrill of satisfaction coursing through me. The desperation in his tone, the way his eyes clung to every inch of exposed skin—it made me feel powerful, in control, and I wasn’t ready to give that up just yet.

Slowly, I lifted my hips off the couch and hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my shorts. Keeping my eyes locked on his, I slid them down my legs, letting them drop to the floor. The cool air kissed my bare skin, and I spread my thighs wider, leaving nothing to his imagination. I was exposed and aching, my arousal slick and glistening in the dim light of the room.

Hank’s breath hitched, and he looked like he was on the verge of losing his mind. His eyes roamed hungrily over my body, lingering where I was wet and needy. His grip on the book was so tight that his hands were trembling, and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.

“Keep reading,” I ordered, my voice dripping with command, and the way he struggled to obey only made my desire burn even fiercer, every pulse of heat pooling low in my belly.

He managed to find his place in the book, but his voice was hoarse, full of raw need as he read the next line. “Her thighs trembled as his mouth moved lower,” he read, his words faltering as he watched me touch myself. “Her breath came in gasps, and she couldn’t… couldn’t stop…”

I let my fingers tease over my sensitive folds, slick and warm, and I couldn’t hold back the moan that escaped my lips. The sound sent a shiver through him, and he let out a strangled noise, his eyes glued to every movement of my hand. I could feel how wet I was, how each brush of my fingers sent sparks of pleasure shooting through me.

He cursed under his breath, the sound desperate, his face twisted in frustration. “You’re torturing me,” he choked out, his voice so thick with need that it made my own core clench in response.

“Hank,” I murmured, dragging out his name like a taunt, and he groaned, shifting uncomfortably as the bulge in his pants strained harder. “Don’t stop,” I teased, pressing my foot against his chest again, keeping him in place. “Not yet.”

The challenge in my voice made him clench his jaw, his breath coming out in harsh, ragged pants. His eyes never left me, watching every flick of my fingers, every arch of my hips, and I could feel how close I was, how every stroke of pleasure was pushing me closer to the edge.

“Keep reading,” I commanded, my voice cracking slightly as pleasure coursed through me, and his gaze flicked down to the book, though I could see how difficult it was for him to tear his eyes away from me.

He forced himself to keep reading, his voice thick with raw need. The words poured from his lips, describing pleasure and release in a way that made the ache between my legs pulse with even more intensity. His voice washed over me, each syllable winding the tension tighter, and it was like he was guiding me to the brink.

I arched my back, my fingers dipping deeper, and my moans grew louder, unrestrained. My body was a live wire, every nerve ending crackling with the pleasure that built and built, and knowing he had to sit there and watch made it all the more intoxicating. I pressed my foot lower, over his chest and down to his stomach, teasing him with the lightest touch as I rocked my hips into my own hand.

“God, please,” he begged again, his voice breaking, and I could see the way his whole body was trembling, his muscles taut and strained.

The control I had over him was thrilling, and I loved seeing him like this, brought to his knees by the sight of me. But the truth was, I was losing my own composure, the need for him becoming overwhelming. His eyes darkened, full of raw desire, and I knew he was barely holding himself back, his restraint fraying with every passing second.

I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face. “Do you like watching me?” I asked, my voice a seductive whisper. “Do you like seeing what you do to me?”

His eyes locked on mine, and the desperation in his gaze was almost too much to handle. “Yes,” he admitted, his voice wrecked. “God, yes.”

I arched my back slightly, giving him an even better view, and he looked like he was barely holding it together. His pupils blown wide with desire, and it was intoxicating to see him so undone, so completely at my mercy.

“Please, baby,” he whispered, his voice cracking on the plea, and the sound sent another thrill racing through me. I pressed my foot more firmly against the hardness straining beneath his pants, and his whole body shuddered, his head falling back as he let out a tortured groan.

“Not yet,” I whispered, even as my body was crying out for him. “You’re going to wait until I say so.”

He clenched his jaw, his voice fraying as he choked out, “I can’t take this much longer.” The sheer desperation in his eyes made my heart race, and I relished the way he was teetering on the edge, barely holding himself together.

The tension between us was electric, a charged wire that had been building and sparking all evening. I let my touch become more deliberate, my breath coming out in ragged gasps, and Hank’s eyes darkened further, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the book like it was his only anchor.

As he spoke, I couldn’t hold back any longer. My body arched off the couch, every nerve alight with sensation, and I shuddered as the pleasure coursed through me in wave after dizzying wave. I cried out, my fingers gripping the cushions, completely undone under his hungry gaze.

Hank’s voice faltered, the book slipping from his hands as he watched me come apart, his breathing ragged. The look on his face was wild, a perfect blend of awe and barely restrained desire. He leaned forward, desperation evident, but I wasn’t ready to let him break just yet.

I sat up, biting my lip, savouring the power I held over him. “You’ve been so good for me,” I whispered, dragging my foot teasingly over his lap, feeling him twitch beneath me. The tension was almost unbearable, the anticipation crackling between us, and I could see how close he was to breaking.

I paused for a moment, searching his eyes for any hint of hesitation, my heart pounding at how far I was pushing things. “You’re okay with this, right?” I asked, my voice a little softer, just to make sure. “Me making you wait, making you watch…”

Hank’s gaze was dark, blown wide with desire, but he nodded immediately, his breath coming in harsh pants. “Fuck, yes,” he said, the rawness in his voice making heat pool even deeper in my belly. “It’s so hot, baby. I’ve never wanted you more.”

A shiver of satisfaction ran through me at his words, and I felt my confidence surge. The way he was looking at me, like he’d do anything I asked, made me feel powerful, and I wanted to see how far I could take him. “Good,” I murmured, letting my hands slide down his chest, feeling the tension coiled in his muscles. “Because I love seeing you like this. So desperate… so needy.”

He groaned, his head falling back against the couch, and I could see the way he was barely holding it together, his body strung tight with anticipation. The sight of him so undone, so completely at my mercy, sent a thrill through me, and I decided to give him a little more, but still on my terms.

I guided his hand to my waist, feeling the heat of his palm against my skin. “You can touch me,” I said, my voice a breathy command. “But only where I tell you.”

His eyes snapped open, filled with a renewed intensity, and he didn’t waste a second. His fingers flexed on my waist, stroking up and down my side, and the gentleness of his touch sent a rush of warmth through me. But he kept his eyes locked on mine, waiting for more direction, and I could see how much he was restraining himself, holding back for me.

“Kiss me,” I whispered, and he surged forward, his mouth capturing mine with a hunger that made me shiver. His kiss was all-consuming, full of longing and need, and I melted into him, letting myself get lost in the heat of it. But when his free hand started to drift lower, I broke the kiss, pulling back just enough to stop him.

“Just your mouth,” I reminded him, my voice still firm, though I could feel my own control slipping. “Remember, I’m the one in charge.”

Hank let out a tortured groan, but he nodded, his gaze full of pleading. “I know,” he said, his voice wrecked. “God, I know.”

I felt a wicked grin spread across my face, loving the way he was falling apart for me, but the truth was, I was unraveling just as quickly. The way he looked at me, the way he trembled with the need to touch more, was driving me wild, and I knew it wouldn’t be long before I gave in completely.

His lips found my neck, and I tilted my head back, a sigh escaping me as he kissed and nipped at my skin. The sensation sent sparks of pleasure dancing over my nerves, and I let him explore there, his mouth hot and insistent. My hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, but I still maintained control, deciding how far he could go.

He kept his kisses focused where I allowed, though I could feel the desperation radiating off him, the way his body tensed every time he tried to move further. It was a delicious game, one that had us both on the edge, and I couldn’t get enough of it.

“Tell me what to do,” he begged, his voice cracking on the words, and I felt my heart stutter at how vulnerable he sounded, how willing he was to give himself over to me.

“Take off my top,” I commanded, my voice husky and full of need. His eyes darkened even more, and he wasted no time, his hands trembling slightly as he grasped the hem of my tank top. He pulled it up and over my head, the cool air kissing my newly exposed skin, and I watched the way his gaze devoured every inch of me.

I could see how much he wanted to touch, to feel, but he held back, waiting for my permission. The sight of his restraint, the way he was barely keeping himself in check, sent a thrill through me, and I couldn’t stop myself from grinning.

I shifted forward, slowly crawling onto his lap, straddling his thighs and feeling the hard press of him beneath me. The way his eyes widened, his breath hitching as I settled over him, sent a thrill through me, and I could feel the heat between us growing, nearly suffocating in its intensity. His hands hovered in the air like he was dying to reach out and touch me, but he held himself back, waiting, his restraint teetering on the edge.

His gaze locked onto mine, dark and desperate, and I couldn’t help the way my body responded to the power I held over him. The anticipation was electric, winding us both tighter with every heartbeat.

I reached out to him, my fingers brushing over his chest, teasing at the hem of his shirt. The contact made him shiver, and I felt a grin spreading across my face as I began to slide the fabric up, revealing the toned lines of his stomach inch by inch. But before I could get far, his hands found their way to my hips, squeezing gently as if he couldn’t resist anymore.

I stopped immediately, pulling back and narrowing my eyes at him. “Ah, ah,” I chastised, my voice dripping with teasing authority. “I didn’t say you could touch.”

He let out a strangled groan, his hands clenching into fists at his sides as he forced himself to let go. “Fuck,” he whispered, his voice full of frustration and need. “I’m sorry.”

I tilted my head, considering him, loving the way he was coming undone for me. “You have to be patient,” I said, my own voice wavering slightly from how much I wanted him. “If you’re good, I’ll let you touch. But only if you listen.”

He nodded, his eyes wide and desperate. “I’ll be good,” he promised, his voice breaking on the words. “Please, baby, tell me what you want.”

The power I had over him, the way he was at my mercy, made me feel heady and bold. I reached for the hem of his shirt again, this time pulling it off completely and letting my hands roam over his bare skin. The heat radiating off him, the way his muscles tensed under my touch, only made me crave him more, but I was determined to stay in control.

“Keep your hands to yourself,” I warned, and he bit his lip, doing his best to obey even though it was clearly killing him.

I took my time running my hands over his chest, feeling the way his muscles tightened beneath my touch. His breathing was ragged, his whole body trembling as he tried to stay still, and it only made me want to push him further, to see how much he could take. Slowly, I trailed my fingertips lower, tracing the line of his abdomen until I reached the waistband of his pants.

With deliberate slowness, I undid the button and pulled down the zipper, watching as his chest rose and fell with each shaky breath. He looked like he was barely holding himself together, and the desperation in his eyes was heady, intoxicating. I slid my hands under the waistband of his pants, inching them down his hips just enough to give myself access, but I kept my eyes locked on his, making sure he was still at my mercy.

Hank’s head fell back against the couch, his mouth falling open as he struggled to control himself. The sight of him so wrecked, so undone, made the heat inside me burn even fiercer, and I couldn’t resist teasing him more. I let my fingers ghost over the hardness straining against his boxers, a feather-light touch that made him curse under his breath.

“Fuck,” he whispered, and I could see the tension in his jaw, the way he was barely keeping himself from reaching out and taking control. But then, unable to hold back any longer, his hands found their way to my waist, squeezing gently as he pulled me closer, desperate for more.

I immediately froze, pulling my hands away and sitting back on my heels. “Did I say you could touch?” I challenged, my voice dripping with authority, and his eyes snapped open, full of regret and frustration.

“I—no,” he stammered, his hands retreating as quickly as they had moved, his face flushing with embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”

I tilted my head, feigning contemplation. “I don’t know if I believe you,” I teased, my lips curving into a grin. “If you really want me to keep going, you’ll have to prove you can follow directions.”

He let out a strangled groan, his hands clenching into fists at his sides as he forced himself to stay still. “I’ll be good,” he promised, his voice raw and pleading. “Please, baby, I’ll do whatever you say.”

I arched an eyebrow, loving the way he was completely at my mercy. “Then don’t move unless I tell you to,” I ordered, my voice steady even though my own desire was burning hot.

He nodded, swallowing hard, his gaze locked on mine. “I won’t,” he swore, his eyes full of longing. “I promise.”

Satisfied, I slid his pants and boxers lower, exposing him completely, and the way his body tensed, the way his breath hitched, was intoxicating. I wrapped my hand around him, moving slowly, deliberately, and he bit his lip, his hips trembling with the effort to stay still.

But again, his hand twitched, reaching out to touch me, and I stopped, pulling back and narrowing my eyes at him. “What did I just say?” I demanded, and the look on his face was a perfect mix of agony and submission.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice breaking. “I can’t help it.”

I leaned in close, my breath brushing over his ear. “You have to,” I whispered, my voice low and commanding. “Or I’ll stop. Completely.”

Hank shivered beneath me, his eyes wide and full of regret, but I could see how badly he wanted this, how much he was willing to give up control. He swallowed hard, his voice coming out hoarse. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his gaze searching mine. “Please… don’t stop.”

I studied him for a moment, loving the way he was trembling with anticipation. “You broke your promise,” I said, my voice teasing yet firm. “And you know what that means, don’t you?”

His breath hitched, his pupils blown wide with desire. “What… what does it mean?” he asked, though his voice held a hint of nervous excitement.

A wicked smile spread across my lips as I slowly climbed off his lap, leaving him looking dazed and hungry. “Stay put,” I commanded, and he didn’t dare move, his eyes following my every step as I sauntered out of the living room and into the bedroom. I could feel the weight of his stare on my back, the tension in the air crackling between us.

My heart was racing as I grabbed a soft silk scarf from the dresser, the idea thrilling and a little dangerous in the best possible way. When I returned, Hank was exactly where I’d left him, sitting on the couch with his hands fisted at his sides, his whole body taut with anticipation.

I held up the scarf, and his eyes darkened even more, understanding immediately. “I’m going to tie your hands,” I told him, my voice gentle but full of authority. “You’ll have to keep them behind your back. And if you want me to stop at any point, you just say the word. Understand?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, and he nodded, his gaze never leaving mine. “I understand,” he said, his voice thick with need. “I trust you.”

A rush of warmth flooded through me at his words, and I moved closer, my heart pounding. “Good,” I murmured, climbing back onto his lap and guiding his hands behind his back. The scarf slipped easily around his wrists, and I made sure it was secure but not too tight, checking his reaction to make sure he was still comfortable.

“Is this okay?” I asked, my voice softer now, needing to be sure he was still with me.

He tested the bonds, his breath coming out in a shaky sigh. “Yes,” he said, and the way he was looking at me, full of longing and surrender, made my pulse race even faster. “More than okay.”

I leaned back to admire my work, his hands now restrained behind him. The vulnerability in his posture, the way he was completely at my mercy, sent a thrill through me, and I knew I was about to make him lose his mind.

“Now,” I said, my voice dropping to a sultry whisper, “let’s see if you can keep your promise this time.”

I leaned forward, my hand coming up to hold his chin, my fingers sliding along his jaw and holding him there. His eyes widened slightly, the vulnerability and awe in his gaze making my heart clench. He looked so open, so ready, and it was intoxicating to have him like this.

I tilted his head up, and let my thumb brush over his lower lip, I could feel his breath on my skin, warm and unsteady. My heart raced as I closed the distance between us, pressing my lips to his in a slow, deliberate kiss.

His body went tense for a moment, a shiver running through him, but then he melted into me, his mouth moving eagerly against mine. It was a heady, exhilarating feeling, knowing that I had him wrapped around my finger, that every ounce of desire he felt was under my control.

The kiss deepened, my tongue slipping past his lips, tasting the desperation that had been building between us. His hands strained against the scarf, his chest heaving as he tried to lean closer, but I held him steady, refusing to let him take over. This was still my game, and I wasn’t done playing yet.

I pulled back, breaking the kiss, and his groan of protest sent a thrill down my spine. His eyes were dark, his lips flushed and slightly swollen, and I could see just how badly he wanted more. But I wasn’t ready to let him have it yet.

“You’re doing so well,” I praised, my voice soft and full of warmth, and I watched his eyes flicker with a mix of pride and desperation. “So good for me.”

His breath shuddered, and I could see the way his body trembled with the effort it took to hold back, to obey. The praise seemed to light something within him, and he looked at me with such intensity, such hunger, that it made my own heart race.

“You like hearing that?” I asked, letting my thumb brush over his flushed cheek. His lips parted, but he didn’t speak, his gaze locked on mine as he nodded fervently.

I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face. “Good,” I murmured, shifting my hips slightly in his lap, teasing him with the friction he so desperately craved. His groan was raw, his head falling back against the couch as his control teetered on the edge.

“You’ve been so good,” I continued, my fingers trailing down his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath my touch. “And because of that…” I trailed off, letting the promise hang in the air as I wrapped my hand around him, stroking him slowly, deliberately.

He sucked in a breath, his muscles tensing with anticipation, and I watched as his eyes darkened, his need laid bare for me. His hips twitched, his body begging for more, but he kept himself in check, waiting for my permission.

I took my time, drawing the moment out, savouring the way he reacted to every little movement. His jaw clenched, and I could feel the heat radiating off him, the way he pulsed with need beneath my touch.

His eyes met mine, wide and desperate, and for a moment, he thought I was done teasing, that I would finally let him have what he wanted. He leaned forward, capturing my lips with a kiss so full of raw longing that it made my head spin.

The kiss was hungry, his lips moving over mine with a desperation that set my whole body aflame. He poured everything into it, all the frustration, the need, and the desire he was holding back, and it left me breathless.

But as much as I wanted to melt into him, to let go completely, I pulled back from the kiss, a teasing smile on my lips. His eyes were heavy with desire, but a spark of mischief flickered there as well. “You want this just as much as I do,” he murmured, a cocky grin spreading across his face. “Admit it.”

The words made me pause, my smile fading as I slowly slid off his lap, putting a bit of distance between us. His grin vanished instantly, replaced by a look of pure panic. “Wait, no,” he said quickly, his voice breaking with urgency. “I didn’t mean it like that. I need this. I need you. Please don’t stop.”

I crossed my arms, tilting my head at him, a challenge in my gaze. “Tell me how much,” I commanded, my voice low and dangerous. “Show me that you really mean it.”

Hank swallowed hard, his entire body tense as he sat there, his hands still bound behind his back. “I mean it,” he said, his voice thick with desperation. “I need you more than I can put into words. I’m losing my mind here, baby. You have no idea how badly I want you. I’ll do anything. Just… tell me what you want, and it’s yours.”

I let his words hang in the air for a moment, savouring the raw vulnerability that spilled from his lips. The way he sat there, hands tied behind his back, exposed and pleading, sent a thrill through me that I could feel down to my core.

“Anything?” I asked, my voice a whisper but full of challenge. I stood and moved toward him, my hands gliding over his hips as I hooked my fingers under the waistband of his pants and boxers. With deliberate slowness, I pulled them down the rest of the way, exposing every inch of him. His breathing grew ragged, and the intensity in his eyes made my own pulse race.

He sat there, completely bare and vulnerable, his muscles taut as he held himself still.

“Anything,” he repeated, his voice hoarse, almost reverent. “Just tell me.”

A sly smile curved my lips as I gently pushed him back against the couch, making sure he was positioned just where I wanted him. I leaned in, my mouth just a breath away from his, and I let my fingers trail lightly over his chest, feeling his heart pounding under my touch. His breath came out in shallow pants, his entire body straining toward mine, desperate for more even though he was bound and couldn’t reach me.

I took my time, letting my fingers trace a line up to his jaw, tilting his head back so he had no choice but to look up at me. His eyes were wide, wild with need, and I felt the thrill of control coursing through me. “You look so pretty like this,” I murmured, my voice soft but full of authority.

I stayed standing in front of him, the anticipation between us crackling in the air. He gazed up at me, his expression a mix of confusion and burning desire, waiting for my next command.

“Kiss me,” I told him, and his eyes flicked to my lips, his brows drawing together in slight bewilderment. He made a motion to stand, but I stopped him. “Ah, ah,” I murmured, my voice still holding that note of authority. I smiled, a mischievous glint in my eyes. “Not there,” I clarified, my voice a low purr.

Realisation dawned on his face, and his eyes darkened further with lust. His gaze slid downward, and he nodded, his tongue sweeping over his lower lip as he adjusted. Shifting carefully, he slid from the couch and knelt on the floor in front of me, his head level with my stomach. His hands were still bound behind him, adding a sense of delicious vulnerability to the moment.

He leaned in, placing a soft, reverent kiss just above my navel, his lips warm against my skin. My breath hitched, and I threaded my fingers through his hair, holding him close as he trailed kisses lower, each one sending shivers of pleasure through my body. His mouth moved with a gentle yet deliberate purpose, and I could feel the tension winding tighter in my core.

As he kissed his way down, his lips growing bolder, I let out a quiet moan, the sound escaping without my permission. The way he worshipped every inch of me, even bound and kneeling, had me trembling with desire. He looked up at me, his eyes full of heat and a hint of playful defiance, and I knew he was willing to do anything I asked—anything to make me feel good.

“Good boy,” I whispered, my voice quivering with both control and want, and his answering groan sent vibrations through my skin. He leaned in even closer, eager to please, his mouth working me with unrestrained devotion, each movement driving me closer to the edge, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer.

My breaths came out in ragged pants, my legs trembling as he continued, and I felt my resolve begin to slip. Just before I could lose myself completely, I forced my grip to loosen, my fingers sliding away from his hair. With a shuddering breath, I stepped back, my knees almost giving out.

I reached behind him and began untying the scarf around his wrists, my fingers brushing against his warm skin. He watched me intently, his eyes dark with anticipation.

“I’ll let you go,” I murmured, loosening the final knot, “but only if you promise to do exactly what I tell you. No more, no less.”

His hands slipped free, and he rubbed his wrists for a moment, the ghost of my restraint still lingering on his skin. He looked up at me, his expression completely sincere and filled with need. “I promise,” he said, his voice raw and low. “Only what you say.”

I stepped back slightly, and his hands moved to rest lightly on my hips, his touch both reverent and possessive. I couldn’t help the shiver that ran through me as I felt his hands finally touch me again, his fingers warm and strong.

“Good,” I breathed, threading my fingers through his hair and tugging gently to guide him. “Use your fingers, too. I want to feel everything.”

Hank’s eyes lit up with a mix of eagerness and reverence, and he lowered his head without hesitation. His lips pressed warm, open-mouthed kisses against my skin as his hands slowly moved up the backs of my thighs, his touch igniting every nerve in my body. One of his hands slipped between my legs, his fingers exploring and teasing, and I let out a gasp, the sensation sending sparks through my veins.

His mouth followed, and he took his time, his fingers and lips working in perfect harmony to unravel me completely. He was attentive, responding to every sound I made, every shiver and sigh, and the way he adjusted his movements to bring me higher only made me want him more. I was losing myself in the pleasure, my head tipping back as he worshipped me with a focus that left me breathless.

But then, before he could bring me over the edge, I pulled back, needing to regain control. My body ached from the sudden loss of his touch, but I had something else in mind. I lowered myself to my knees in front of him, meeting his intense, questioning gaze.

Without breaking eye contact, I reached for his hand, bringing it to my lips. I took two of his fingers into my mouth, tasting myself on his skin as I slowly, deliberately sucked, swirling my tongue around each digit. His eyes darkened, and a low groan escaped his lips, the sound rumbling deep in his chest.

“Feel that?” I whispered, releasing his fingers with a pop, my voice full of command and desire. “That’s how much you’ve affected me.”

His breath came out ragged, and I could see the way his chest rose and fell, his restraint hanging by a thread. My heart pounded in my ears, and the thrill of having him so undone, so desperate, only made the moment even more electrifying.

I watched the way Hank’s eyes searched mine, wide and waiting, the raw desire in his gaze mixing with trust and anticipation. A smile curled at my lips as I decided to reward his patience.

“You’ve been so good for me,” I murmured, letting my voice drop into something softer, more intimate. “I think you deserve a little something in return.”

His breath hitched, and his eyes darkened even further, his hands gripping my waist a little tighter but still not moving, still waiting for me to give him more. I let my hands drift down his chest, feeling the rapid thump of his heartbeat beneath my fingertips, and I slowly sank lower, my lips trailing along the path of my hands.

He shivered as I kissed down his chest, my lips and teeth grazing over his skin, leaving him gasping and straining for more. I glanced up at him, catching the way his entire body trembled with anticipation. “You’ve been waiting so well,” I whispered, making sure he knew how much I appreciated his restraint.

“You want your reward?” I teased, my mouth brushing against his ear, and he groaned, the sound full of need and surrender. “God, please,” he whispered, the words spilling out almost involuntarily. “I need you so much.”

I smirked at the desperation in his voice, how each plea seemed to echo with the tension that had been winding tighter and tighter between us. Slowly, I traced my lips lower, taking my time, drawing out his anticipation until I could feel his whole body taut with need. My fingers grazed over his hips, and I felt the way his muscles clenched beneath my touch, how he was holding himself back with every ounce of strength he had left.

“Good boy,” I whispered, letting the words slip past my lips as I finally wrapped my hand around him. He shuddered, a strangled groan escaping his throat, and his head fell back, mouth parted and breath coming in short, uneven gasps.

I let my mouth follow, my lips pressing gentle kisses to his lower stomach, then to the sensitive skin along his hip bones. He was so hard, aching, the wait and my teasing having pushed him to his absolute limit, and the satisfaction of having brought him to this state sent a thrill through me.

When I finally took him in my mouth, the reaction was immediate and overwhelming. His entire body tensed, a broken, desperate moan tearing from his lips, and his hands flexed at my waist, fingers digging into my skin as if he needed something to hold onto, something to anchor him.

“Oh, fuck,” he breathed, his voice raw and trembling. “You feel… God, you feel so good.”

I could feel how much he’d been holding back, the way he was barely holding himself together, and it only made me want to give him more. I moved slowly at first, savouring every tremor, every strangled sound that spilled from his lips. The heat of him, the way he pulsed in my mouth, was intoxicating, and I took my time, teasing him with gentle sucks and swirls of my tongue.

“H-how are you—” He choked on the words, his body arching slightly as I hollowed my cheeks around him, and I loved the way he was coming undone, the way all the teasing and waiting had left him so desperate. His hips jerked involuntarily, and he caught himself, a tortured groan spilling out as he tried to stay still, to be good for me.

I pulled back just enough to catch his eyes, loving the wrecked, needy look on his face. “No moving,” I reminded him, my voice sultry and full of command. “Be good for me, Hank.”

He nodded frantically, his breath coming out in ragged pants. “I—I’ll try,” he stammered, and there was something so beautiful in the way he surrendered to me, in how much he was willing to give up control.

I rewarded his obedience with more pressure, taking him deeper, hitting the back of my throat, my tongue tracing along the sensitive underside. His whole body shuddered, and his moans grew louder, more desperate, each sound making the heat between us burn even hotter. His need, his raw, unrestrained desire, made me feel powerful and in control, and I knew I had him completely at my mercy.

I picked up the pace, drawing him closer to the edge, and he was helpless to stop the sounds pouring out of him, his voice breaking and his hands trembling as he tried to hold himself back. “Please, please,” he whispered, his voice cracking on the words. “I can’t—oh God, I can’t take it.”

I pulled back abruptly, my lips leaving him, and the sudden loss of contact made him gasp. His eyes flew open, wide with disbelief and frustration, and I saw the tears glistening at the edges, a result of the overwhelming pleasure I’d brought him to and then cruelly taken away. He looked wrecked, utterly undone, and the sight of him in that state made my own desire flare even hotter.

“P-please,” he choked out, his voice breaking, and the raw emotion in his eyes nearly made my heart stop. I felt the weight of his need pressing between us, the desperation radiating off him in waves, and it made me ache for him, made me want to give him everything.

Without another word, I swung my leg over his hips, straddling him, and he let out a ragged, relieved sound as I positioned myself above him. His hands flew to my waist instinctively, gripping me like he was afraid I might disappear, and the raw intensity in his gaze was almost too much to bear.

I lined myself up and sank down onto him in one smooth motion, a moan tearing from both of our lips as I took him in. The sensation was overwhelming, the stretch and the heat making my whole body shudder, and I could feel the way he trembled beneath me, barely holding on.

His head fell back, and his hands gripped my hips tighter, and I leaned in close, my mouth brushing against his ear. “Go ahead,” I whispered, my voice dripping with authority. “Take what you need,” giving him full permission to lose himself, to let go.

A shudder ran through him, and he didn’t need to be told twice. His hands slid up my back, pulling me closer as he thrust up into me, the desperation in his movements palpable. I gasped, clutching onto his shoulders as he moved, each powerful motion driving me higher, making me feel every ounce of the need he’d been holding back.

“God, you feel incredible,” he groaned, his voice thick with awe and raw need, each word sending a shiver down my spine. His hands gripped my waist, firm and commanding, guiding me as I sank down onto him over and over, our movements in perfect, desperate rhythm. I arched my back, the sensation overwhelming, pleasure rippling through me as his fingers dug into my skin, holding me as if he never wanted to let go.

His eyes locked onto mine, dark and filled with pure, unrestrained desire, and it made my heart race even faster. The way he watched me, his gaze hungry and reverent, sent another wave of heat rushing through my body. I braced my hands on his shoulders, meeting his every thrust, and a whimper escaped me, the intensity too much to contain.

He groaned again, the sound guttural, and his hips snapped up to meet mine, pushing deeper, harder. “Fuck,” he gasped, his breath ragged, his control fraying. His grip on my waist tightened, and I could feel how close he was, the tension building between us like a storm ready to break.

I leaned in, my lips brushing against his ear, my voice trembling with pleasure. “Don’t hold back,” I whispered, and he responded instantly, his movements turning frantic, driven by the fire that had been building inside him. The friction, the heat, the way our bodies collided—it was all too much, and I could feel myself spiraling closer to the edge.

Our breaths came in short, uneven pants, and I cried out, my entire body shuddering as the pleasure burst through me, white-hot and blinding. He followed moments later, his hands pulling me against him as he lost himself in the release, a broken moan spilling from his lips as he came, his body trembling beneath mine.

We clung to each other, breathless and trembling, the world around us fading away as we rode out the waves of pleasure, wrapped up in each other and the euphoria of finally letting go.

Our breathing slowly steadied, the tension in the air dissipating and leaving only the warmth of our shared satisfaction. I stayed where I was, straddling his lap, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath my palms. His hands loosened on my waist, no longer gripping but resting there with a kind of reverence, like he was still processing everything that had just happened.

He looked up at me, his eyes softening, a lazy smile spreading across his face. “You… are absolutely incredible,” he said, his voice husky but full of awe, a playful light flickering back into his expression. “I don’t think I’ve ever… well, experienced anything like that.”

A blush crept up my neck, but I couldn’t help grinning back at him. “Good,” I replied, a teasing edge in my voice. “I’d hate for you to think I was boring.” I brushed a strand of hair from his forehead, letting my fingertips linger, and watched the way his gaze followed my movements, still laced with admiration.

He laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “Boring is the last word I’d use to describe you,” he said, then sobered slightly, his eyes searching mine. “Are you okay? I mean… everything we did, was it…?”

I cupped his face in my hands, letting my thumbs brush over his cheekbones. “More than okay,” I reassured him, my voice gentle. “I loved every second. What about you?”

His smile returned, this time softer, more intimate. “I loved it,” he murmured. “I mean it—I loved giving you what you wanted. Watching you… having you in control like that…” He let out a shaky breath, his hands sliding up my back in a soothing motion. “It was perfect.”

We stayed like that for a moment, basking in the closeness, and I felt a sense of peace wash over me. “Good,” I said, leaning down to press a tender kiss to his lips. “Maybe next time we could switch it up,” I suggested, my voice teasing. “You in control, me doing exactly what you say.”

His eyes widened slightly, his breath hitching, and then a wicked grin spread across his face. “Really?” he asked, his voice low and full of anticipation. I nodded, my cheeks flushing at the idea. “Yeah,” I murmured, my fingers tracing gentle patterns over his chest. “If you’re up for it.”

His hands tightened gently on my hips, his voice dropping to a low rumble. “Oh, I’m definitely up for it,” he said, his expression full of a newfound excitement. “But only if you’re sure.”

I laughed, the sound bright and happy, and kissed him again, lingering just long enough to make his breath hitch. “I’m sure,” I whispered against his lips. “I trust you.”

He sighed contentedly, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us. “Then we’re in for one hell of a next time,” he promised, and I felt the warmth of his words settle deep in my chest, filling me with a sense of happy anticipation for whatever came next.

[curtis-corner]

STAND BY ME (Darry Curtis) PART 11

Fic Materlist Here

This part is definitely the longest one so far! It was really fun to picture the entire scene going down and I hope it comes across in writing how I pictured it. I really enjoy this little world and am so happy you are all enjoying as well. Thank you for every like and comment <3

Taglist : @lovelylegolas2123 @amnestyliketaz @spuffyfan394, @sleeplessskeleton

PART 11

Your interactions with Tim Shepard have, up until today, been limited to him buying things at the store. He is older than you, so you never shared classes and truth be told, he sort of terrifies you.

You are pretty sure Darry isn’t afraid of anything except losing his brothers, so he doesn’t seem shaken at all when he walks out the front door, shutting it tight behind him.

You notice Pony moving into the living room and you peek your head around the corner.

“Can you hear him?” Pony mumbles and Soda nods. Pony carefully walks over to where Soda is standing next to the open window and they both quietly sit on the floor.

You realize they plan on eavesdropping on their brother, and you walk over ready to blow their cover and have them move, when you hear Tim Shepard say:

“Her old man owes over three thousand dollars to Ray Desmond. That ain’t a guy you want to owe.”

You feel like your knees are about to give out. You’re frozen to the spot and unable to stop listening to the conversation. You feel Pony and Soda’s eyes on you, knowing they figured it out as well, but you can’t stop staring at the door.

“She’s got no part in that. I don’t want his goons coming after her.” Darry sounds tough, and angrier than you’ve ever heard him before.

“I already spread it around that she’s Darry Curtis’ girl and she doesn’t have a damn clue where her daddy is. But that doesn’t mean Ray’s boys won’t come asking.”

“If she had the money, she’d pay it just to bail out her dad and keep herself safe. But she doesn’t.” You can’t see Darry but you know he’s likely running his hand through his hair and looking up to the sky in frustration. “Hell, we could rob everyone’s wallets from here to the county line and we won’t get three thousand dollars.”

“I don’t run with Ray’s boys but I know he keeps a tight leash on them and he has enough standards for a bookie that he won’t hurt her if she really doesn’t know anything. But if her daddy comes back to town, he’s sealing his own coffin.”

Darry lets out a swear and it’s quiet for a minute until he clears his throat.

“Guess I owe you pretty big then.”

“It’s set for next Saturday. Clinton Park at 7.”

“I’ll be there.”

Soda and Pony move quickly, both clamoring to stand up and away from the window, but they aren’t quick enough. Darry walks in, sees the three of you in the living room and sighs.

“Are you kidding me.”

“The window was open,” Pony tries.

“What’s set for next Saturday?” Soda narrows his eyes at his older brother.

“Did you tell Tim Shepard to find out who my dad owes money to?” You ask, knowing the answer but needing to hear it from Darry himself.

Darry looks between the three of you and shakes his head, walking towards the kitchen to the forgotten supper.

“Can we talk about this later?” Darry’s irritated, but he’s not off the hook with any of you. All three of you follow him.

“Is it the rumble with the Carter boys? Are you fighting with the Shepard gang?”

“How do you know about that?” Darry asks Soda, who shrugs and raises his eyebrows, waiting for confirmation. It clicks for you exactly why Darry would be fighting in a rumble, and you see red.

“Did you make a deal with Tim that you’d be in a rumble for him?” You know your voice is getting louder, and somewhere in the back of your mind it registers that this is your and Darry’s first major argument.

“We’ll talk about it later.” Darry starts scooping mashed potatoes from the pot and slamming them on to a plate. “Y’all start eating.”

“You can’t be in a rumble by yourself, what if you get hurt!” Pony looks worried.

“Don’t worry Pony, I’m going with him.” Soda is confident and you swear his chest puffs out a little. “Steve and Two will too.”

“What about me?” Pony asks.

“No.” Darry shuts him down and he gets a piece of chicken fried steak. He turns to Soda. “And we’ll talk about you and the others. Make a plate.”

“Come on Darry!” Pony whines.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to talk to Tim?” You ignore Darry’s request to talk about it later.

“Damnit, can we just eat before I get an interrogation from every person here?” Darry’s voice is loud again, but it doesn’t scare you. It just adds the fuel to your fire.

“How could you agree to a rumble just for information on my father? What in the world would make you think I would be okay with this?”

Darry slams his plate on the table and takes a deep breath.

“Tim did something for me, I’ll do something for him. It was my choice and whoever choses to fight, it’s their choice too.”

“I choose-“ Pony starts.

“Not you.” Darry cuts him off.

“Well I’m so glad y’all have your choices.” You can see in Darry’s expression when he realizes your voice has gone from hot anger to ice cold.  “Seems the only one without a choice is me.”

“That’s not true-“

“And when someone gets hurt? It’s my fault because this was all done for me. And I don’t want it!” Your voice is back to anger and you can feel tears pricking in the corner of your eyes.

Across the table Darry seems to be cooling off. You’ve always been good at reading him, even when he was just an acquaintance coming into the store. The angry glint in his eyes starts to fade, replaced by a warm look of concern.

But while he is calming down, you are heating up.

“Do you think I feel better because I know how much my dad owes? Who he owes?”

“Honey,” Darry steps around the table but you take two steps back.

“How am I going to get that money? Three thousand fucking dollars. Jesus!” You know you’re breaking down, and your mind is yelling at you to stop but you just can’t. Words keep coming out of you like a faucet you can’t turn off. “This is such a goddamn mess!”

“Sweetheart,” Darry is within reaching distance of you know but you furiously shake your head.

“I need some fresh air.” His face crumbles and even though you are angry, you take a breath. “Just the porch, Darry. I promise.”

Darry had once confided in you that ever since Pony ran out the night he slapped him, Darry had been terrified of people leaving and never coming back. That the days Pony was gone were some of his worst, even worse than the days after his parents died.

You were upset, but you still loved him more than anything. And you would never try to hurt him on purpose.

You walk out the door, shutting it firmly behind you and throw yourself into the old lawn chair. The sun is hanging low in the Oklahoma sky, casting a brilliant mix of colors across the neighborhood.

A pack of cigarettes and an old lighter lay on the overturned cooler-turned-table. You recognize the brand as the one Pony favors, and you reach into the box, taking one and lighting it up before you can really think it through.

Smoking isn’t something you do often – you’ve tried it a few times and never liked the aftertaste, but you can’t deny that it does take the edge off when you need it to.

The door opens and put your cigarette out in the ashtray. You are both surprised and somehow not surprised to see Soda and his kind smile.

“Mind if I have a seat?” You nod and he hands you a blanket. “Darry didn’t want you gettin’ cold.”

“Thanks.” You recognize the old plaid blanket as your favorite one in the house and your heart warms a little that Darry must have caught on that you always gravitate towards that one.

“You know, I love my brothers the same. And I’d do just about anything for them. But glory, they are stubborn.” You let out a laugh and his smile grows.

“Especially that older one.” You sigh. “Soda?”

“Yeah?”

“What happens in a rumble? I mean, I know y’all fight but…how bad does it get?” The longer you sit out here, the more it bothers you and you can’t shake the feeling of dread.

“Aw, it ain’t so bad. Especially a skin rumble. Steve’s broken his nose twice, and Two Bit usually gets a black eye for running his mouth while punching. But Darry never gets hit too bad, he can knock a grown man out with one punch.”

“I don’t know how much better I feel about that,” You admit, but the pit in your stomach does get a little lighter. “Why won’t he let Pony fight?” Soda’s expression falls.

“Last time…well, last time Pony really shouldn’t have fought at all. He had just gotten back from bein’ on the run, and he was real tired and got pretty sick after. But Johnny and Dallas died that night too, so it was just…” He trails off.

“Just a lot going on?”

“Yeah. Darry was real scared about it though, so he doesn’t want Pony anywhere near a fight. Even a clean one.” You mull it over for a minute.

“Soda, if any of you get hurt…I don’t see how I can forgive myself.”

“You’re not makin’ us do anythin’. Darry agreed for Tim, and we got his back. Just how it goes.” He says it easily, and you guess he had a point.

“I’m sorry I yelled at Darry in front of you and Pony. And that I dropped the f word.” Soda gives you that movie-star smile and shakes his head.

“We have heard that word before, you know.” You both share a laugh. “Darry’s just always trying to fix everything. We called him superman even before our parents died.”

“I do love that about him. Even when…” You trail off.

“Even when he drives you crazy?” Soda offers and you nod. “That’s alright. My dad used to drive my mom crazy all the time. But they always worked it out. That’s what love is.”

--

Darry is attacking the laundry when you softly open the door. You see four piles – Darry, Soda, Ponyboy…and you.

“Hi,” He looks up at your quiet greeting. His eyes are guarded, but kind.

“Hey.” Darry answers. He puts down the faded high school shirt into the Ponyboy pile and jams his hands into his jean pockets. You know that’s a tell-tale sign that he’s nervous.

“Can we talk?” He nods. “I apologized to Soda and I’ll talk to Pony tomorrow, but I never should have yelled at you in front of them. Or swore. I’m sorry.”

“What? No baby, you don’t have to be sorry.” Darry takes a tentative step closer to you and you realize you need to feel his arms around you more than anything. So, you close the gap between the two of you and sink into his embrace. He lets out a soft relieved sigh when you do. “I shouldn’t have raised my voice. And I should have told you I went to Tim.”

“Why did you go to him?” You ask and Darry pulls back a little, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Because I was scared to death. When you showed up in the middle of the night, and I hear Steve screamin’ and you’re covered in cuts and can barely breathe?” His eyes are darker and even though you were there, hearing the events of the night from him sends a shiver down your spine. “That night when I dropped you home and the house was dark…I didn’t have a good feelin’. And then everything happened…”

“It wasn’t your fault.” You reach up to touch his face and his eyes close for a minute as he leans into your touch. “This is all my dad.”

“And I went to Tim to confirm that the men were after your dad, not you.” Darry’s expression is pleading, needing you to understand. You feel tears start to form again. “I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe, and if that means knocking a few guys from Louisville Heights, that’s not a problem. You’re worth it, you hear me?” You swear his captivating eyes are staring right into your soul. “You’re always worth it.”

You nod and he pulls you closer, lifting you slightly from the floor as he moves towards the bed. He sits at the edge of the bed and pulls you on to his lap. You take a few deep breaths as he runs his hands up and down your back.

“My dad’s not coming back, is he?”

“It’s���probably better if he doesn’t.” Darry is putting it delicately and you appreciate it. You know you can never go back to your house, that you would never be able to sleep and always be terrified about another break in, or worse. As if he’s reading your mind, Darry pulls you a little closer. “You can stay here.”

“For how long?”

“Forever?” Darry asks and you can feel your eyes go wide and mouth drop slightly open.

“Darry Curtis, you can’t just ask me to move in! We just had our first big fight!”

“And now we’re makin’ up.” Darry buries his head in the crook of your neck and you can feel him grinning against you.

“It’s one thing to stay a few days while things get sorted, but move in permanently?”

“People do it all the time.” Darry starts kissing up and down your collarbone.

“Married people.”

“Well-“

“Darry, do not finish that sentence.” You hear his low chuckle and you feel like this whole evening has given you emotional whiplash. He leans his head back again and smiles up at you, one of those lazy smiles that you so rarely get to see.

“I’m not asking right now, but honey, you know I already planned on doing it one day.” You certainly did not know that. “And if you’re more comfortable moving in with a ring on your finger, we’ll just speed up the timeline a bit.”

“It’s not about--oh my--I mean--Darry.” He’s back to kissing your neck as you are having a near-crisis. “If we get married, I then become another guardian for Pony and Soda. You need to talk to them about it, make sure they are okay with it, before we even think about…you know…timelines.” You finish lamely and it doesn’t help that you can feel him smiling against your jaw. He leans back and rests his forehead against yours.

“So you’ll stay?”

And you hear it in his voice: how much he wants this. How the need to protect you may have been the catalyst for you moving in, but staying for the long haul is something he desperately wants.

You understand the feeling because you want it just as bad. You want the good days and the hard days and the regular old days in between. You want to come home to Darry and you want Darry to come home to you. It seems simple when you really think about it.

“I’ll stay. Always.”

NEXT: Settling into the Curtis house/life, thinking about Darry's talk of timelines and the outcome of the rumble with the Shepard boys.

[venivenias]

thinking abt them again

[crowiin]

quick thing of a lesson in changing the world by @thousand-sunnies because it made me giggle

[ex0rin]

Hughie Campbell | The Boys S01E05: Good for the Soul

[fear-no-mort]

thinkign about how alone and unloved morty was for all his life and rick was the first time anyobdy ever put such an amount of intense attention and dependency onto him . and rick had a whole new family and losing them made him stop seeing the value in other people as a whole and morty was the one and first thing that woke him up

[ilikedetectives]

I'm all ears about bottom Minthara.

I keep thinking how nice it would be if there was a second scene for her romance when you reach act 3 and get together with her. And for it to be softer and more tender in comparison to the scene at the goblin party. I desperately need it and to have Tav take care of her please

I'm so normal about bottom Minthara, not because of the smut, but it shows her ultimate trust in Tav as their relationship evolves from Act 1 to Act 3. Given what she's been through, it's understandable for her to want to be in control, because let's be honest throughout the centuries under Lolth and then the Absolute, when was the last time her mind was her own for her to make a choice, for herself? (hint: "Tonight, I wanted this - for myself.") So for her to willingly trust Tav to let that go, even just for a few moments. Alurlssrin is unselfish, deep, unbreakable love, but do you know what Tav is? Tav is her tri âm tri kỷ (know the sound, know the self) in both romantic and platonic ways, do you understand?!?!?!? Her scars are invisible and Tav is the only one who sees through them, that is why she only cares for how Tav sees her through their eyes *go outside and scream*

Between "Tonight there will be no voices, no orders, no gods... I belong only to you." (Act 2/3) and "Minthara is my home." in the epilogue, I'd say there's nothing but soft between them as time goes on and it gets softer as each night passes.

The dream is a very soft romance scene after "I belong only to you." which is a total contrast to Act 1 (bonus is including the alurlssrin dialogue during aftercare). I wish Tav could also comfort her after saving her from Orin because that level of trauma coming back, ooof.

[worldsokayestdragon]

GreedxLing Week Day 2: Crossover

Read on AO3

Ling had been certain that he and Lan Fan were ready to take down a witch.

They'd gotten the other 99 souls required easily, far faster than any other student at the DWMA had ever managed. (Well, anyone besides Maka Albarn, but she was a freakishly intense prodigy so that was hardly a fair comparison. And she'd had to start over anyway so it barely counted.) Their soul resonance was nearly flawless. When they fought together Lan Fan’s blade was like an extension of Ling's arm. Every strike landed precisely and powerfully, and their special attacks never failed.

No witch should have stood a chance against them.

And they hadn't gone into the fight alone. Ed and Al were with them, and the two brothers were nearly as good as Ling and Lan Fan. The weapon meister combination of a giant suit of armor and a guy way too small to wear it was unconventional, and Ling was pretty sure Ed having his friend make him an oversized prosthetic arm so he could wear one of everything from the pauldron down, then and having Al fight beside him only counted  “wielding a weapon” on the barest technicality, but they made it work. Ed was very good at punching things until they stopped getting back up, and Al stepped in perfectly to watch his back.

And Professor Hawkeye and her meister, Mustang, had accompanied them on this mission, so really they were as safe as could be.

Okay, maybe the adults had less accompanied them and more failed to notice the students sneaking along on a mission they'd been explicitly told to sit out because it was too dangerous. Something something ancient and powerful witch, blah blah dark soul magic, yadda yadda artificially created weapons who could operate autonomously, achieve soul resonance within themselves, and perform feats that no human weapon and meister team could hope to match. Whatever. If anything that was all the more reason for them to come along instead of leaving the old people to try and face all of that on their own.

Really, Hawkeye and Mustang should be grateful they were there, considering Mustang got himself critically injured fighting the first enemy they came across; a beautiful woman who could summon spears to her fingertips that grew to whatever length she wanted and apparently could cut through anything. The man did manage to kill her before succumbing to blood loss, though, which Ling could admit was kind of impressive considering how she shook off what should have been mortal wounds and healed almost instantly from any damage. But still, if the rest of them hadn't been there to provide cover and a distraction Hawkeye never would have been able to drag her unconscious meister to safety and call for more backup.

Hawkeye threatening them all with a “serious conversation” when they got back to school and swearing she'd expel them if she found out they'd stayed to fight if there was a chance of running away seemed pretty rude and uncalled for to Ling, but the woman was under a lot of stress.

So they ran deeper into the witch's compound–a confusing warren of underground tunnels that Ling wasn't entirely confident he'd be able to easily find his way back out of even with his normally perfect sense of direction–smashing delicate lab equipment, yelling for any cowards in the place to come face them, and generally just making a commotion to try and draw attention away from their injured companions.

Ed seemed particularly thrilled at all the destruction they were wreaking. Ling thought it was pretty fun too, but the other meister was delighted in a way that was a little concerning, laughing maniacally as he grabbed flasks of some unidentifiable green liquid off a lab table and flung them against a wall where they promptly exploded. 

Al heaved a long suffering sigh at his brother, but didn't try to stop the rampage, and also shoved over an entire shelf of the exploding potions as they left the room they'd found them in and giggled to himself about it because he was only “the normal brother” in the sense that anyone would seem sane and rational standing next to Edward Elric.

They succeeded in calling attention to themselves.

They didn’t draw out the actual witch, at least not yet, but the two minions who came after them were terrifying enough on their own.

One was a short fat man, who partially transformed into a…meat grinder? Some sort of construction equipment maybe? It wasn’t anything Ling would call a weapon in the traditional sense, but the sight of the man’s abdomen splitting open to reveal rows of spinning metal teeth was more alarming than any blade or hammer or gun could hope to be. Luckily he didn’t seem very smart, and kept stopping to look around and call for someone named Lust who never showed up, so it wasn’t too hard to dodge his attempts at pulverizing them.

The other person was more of a problem. They were taller and much more agile, and clearly knew their way around the witch’s headquarters, which made evading them in the tight corridors a challenge. And they never seemed to run out of ways to transform their body. Ling would dive back to avoid the swing of an arm that had become a blade only to immediately have to roll to the side when that same arm turned into a cannon aimed right at his head. 

They also never shut up. Every attack was followed up with a comment about how “You pathetic humans never should have come here,” or “You’ll never make it out of here alive, you worms!”

And of course, Ed also didn’t know how to shut up.

“I’d rather be a pathetic human worm than an ugly freak like you and your buddy!”

“Who are you calling ugly, you tiny little pest?” 

Their hand turned into some sort of glowing gun that fired a laser at Ed. Frankly, Ling thought turning into a sci-fi bullshit weapon was cheating.

Al just managed to yank his brother out of the way and hold him back from rushing in for an attack.

“Tiny?! We’ll see who’s tiny after I rip your legs off!”

“Oh, I’d love to see you try and–Gluttony, would you focus?”

The fat man, Gluttony apparently, turned back from where he’d been starting to wander away down a cross hall.

“But Envy, I need to go look for Lust. I don’t know where she is.”

Envy shook their head. “We can look for her after we crush these intruders, alright? You don’t need to worry about Lust, she can take care of herself.”

“But–”

“Ling, we should try and get out of here while they’re distracted,” Lan Fan said, speaking into Ling’s mind as she always did in her sword form and drowning out the argument in front of him.

“Right,” Ling whispered back, trying not to draw attention back to them. They were at the junction of two hallways, and there was just enough room that they could slip around their pursuers and go back the way they’d come if they were quick about it.

“Ed, Al, let’s get out of here,” he added only slightly louder. Both Elric brothers nodded their understanding.

Ling led the way, moving as quickly and quietly as he could along the far side of the hall from Envy and Gluttony to rush back past them.

Something slammed into the wall inches in front of Ling’s nose, and he barely stopped in time to avoid running into a giant mess of metal and wires and tubing that was shaped like a crude, nightmarish hand, reaching nearly from floor to ceiling and completely blocking his path.

The hand connected to an equally haphazard mechanical arm that shrank as it got further from the wrist, all the way down to Envy’s human looking shoulder. They’d stopped talking to Gluttony, their focus entirely fixed on Ling and his friends.

“I didn’t say you could leave,” they hissed.

“New plan,” Ling gasped, backpedaling a few steps away from where Envy’s hand was slowly pulling away from the new crater it had left in the solid stone wall. “We run away as fast as we can and worry about finding an exit later.”

“I like that plan!” Al said, already turning back up the hall and dragging Ed with him.

“Very sensible,” Lan Fan agreed.

The following chase was a blur of sprinting over uneven floors and taking corners at speed while ducking out of the way of blades and gunfire and giant mechanical hands, as well as the occasional attempt to grind them into a paste. (Gluttony referred to this as “eating them,” which, bad!) Ling completely gave up trying to keep track of where they were or the direction they were going, just concentrating on staying alive and hopefully losing the monsters on their tails.

It was a surprise when, after darting around another corner and through an archway, they found themselves out of the claustrophobic hallways and in a cavernous room. Tubes wrapped and tangled around each other up the walls and across the ceiling, coming together in the center of the room and trailing down to connect to a large throne, its occupant shrouded in shadows so deep Ling couldn’t make out a single detail of his face. A sense of creeping evil permeated the entire space, and Ling realized that this must be the witch’s inner sanctum.

There was no other door but the one they’d entered through.

The only other occupant of the room was an older man standing next to the throne, unremarkable other than the eyepatch over one eye. He strode forward with a glare as Envy and Gluttony burst into the room behind Ling and the others.

“What is the meaning of you fools allowing these humans to make their way here? You’ve disturbed Father’s work.”

“Hey, these little insects are fast,” Envy protested. “And I didn’t see you helping stop them, Wrath! Or Sloth and Pride for that matter.”

“Our brothers are away on an errand for Father,” Wrath said dismissively. “You shouldn’t need their help to squash a few bugs anyway. Or mine, but I’ll go ahead and lend it to you since it seems to be the only way anything gets done around here.” 

Envy growled, and the growl deepened and distorted as they transformed. 

In the open space of this room they were able to change more than just their arm. Their whole body stretched and twisted as they grew into a giant robotic thing. It looked a bit like a mech suit from an anime, if that mech suit had been welded together from a thousand disparate parts by a madman into a body horror nightmare amalgamation, bristling with every weapon imaginable. They dropped down onto all fours–their new form no longer bipedal–and the impact shook the room so badly Ling nearly lost his footing.

“Fine,” Envy said, in a voice like grating metal. “You take care of the one with the sword, that seems more your speed. I’ll take the armor and the runt.”

For once in his life, Ed didn’t immediately freak out about being called a runt. Maybe even he recognized they were in serious enough danger to let something like that slide. Instead he said, “Actually, I think I’m just gonna leave.” and darted toward Envy’s flank, maybe trying to use their large size against them to slip by them and back out the door before they could twist around for the attack.

Ling wasn’t able to watch and see how that tactic worked out for his friend because, faster than seemed possible, Wrath was no longer across the room but right in front of him, swinging a sword toward his neck. Only Lan Fan calling out a warning allowed Ling to react in time to block the attack, and the force of the blow sent him stumbling back.

Ling could hear Ed and Al fighting Envy, and it sounded like they were struggling (it also sounded like Ed had landed at least one blow because he yelled “that’s for calling me a runt!” So much for letting things go in a dangerous situation), but he couldn’t go to help them or even spare a glance in their direction. It took all his energy to match Wrath, and he spent more time blocking and dodging than making his own attacks, unable to find an opening. 

He didn’t know if the man was one of the witch’s created weapons. He must have been, from the weird name and how unnaturally fast he moved, but he didn’t appear to transform his body in any way. 

But he could pull seemingly infinite swords from somewhere, rearming himself instantly the one time Ling managed to disarm him, and throwing them with as much deadly accuracy as he wielded them when Ling tried to retreat and put some distance between them.

Gluttony, apparently unable to decide who he should be attacking without explicit instructions, just took a swipe at whatever intruder happened to be in range of him at any given time as the fight took them around the room. It was better than having to fight two at once, but the added need to keep track of distance from him wasn’t something Ling appreciated.

He tried to keep circling to Wrath’s left, to put himself in the blind spot created by the eyepatch. His success was limited, but the strategy was letting him keep his head attached so far, and he didn’t see any better options so he kept to it. 

The witch eventually grew impatient with the fight. 

“Enough,” he said, not yelling but somehow projecting his voice across the room and over the sound of fighting. 

Ling didn’t look over, refusing to be distracted.

But then Al asked: “Dad?” 

At the same time Ed snarled: “Hohenheim!” 

That got Ling’s attention.

“Your dad’s a witch?” That was the type of thing he’d hope his friends would tell him before it came up mid-battle.

The witch did look a lot like Ed, an old man with graying blond hair that had probably once been the same shade as Ed’s braid, and eyes the same distinctive golden color.

Whether the Elrics were going to answer him, or keep yelling at the witch that was maybe their dad, Ling never found out. Envy took advantage of the distraction and slammed one giant hand down into Ed and the other into Al, pinning them both to the floor.

“Ling!” Lan Fan yelled, and he jumped back away from Wrath’s sword.

He just barely got out of the way, a stinging cut opening on his cheek instead of the intended decapitation.

Wrath followed up by throwing his sword, and the thin blade slotted cleanly into the loop at the back of Lan Fan’s hilt, ripping her out of Ling’s hand. The sword continued on its path, and buried itself deeply into the wall.

Ling dashed over and yanked on the sword, but it didn’t budge.

“Duck!” Lan Fan shouted, and Ling dropped to the floor right as the blade of yet another sword hit the wall where his head had been with enough force to shatter the tempered steel.

Ling rolled to the side and sprung back to his feet. He and Wrath circled each other again, but this time Ling tried not to let himself be moved too far from Lan Fan.

“Ling, just go,” Lan Fan cried. Her voice, already faded in Ling’s mind from a few feet of distance, sounded desperate in a way he’d never heard her before. “Get out of here, please!”

“I’m not leaving you,” Ling snapped. He wouldn’t leave any of them. There had to be a way to–

Something slammed into Ling’s side, tackling him to the ground. Too late, he realized he’d forgotten to keep track of Gluttony.

As he struggled beneath Gluttony’s weight, watching the grinding teeth of whatever his weapon form was inch closer and closer, Ling really wished he’d been a little less confident in his abilities and chosen not to come here. 

“Wait,” the witch called. 

Gluttony stopped a second short of turning Ling into mince meat.

The Witch walked slowly towards Ed and Al.

“You two are Van Hohenheim’s children?” he asked.

“What’s it to you, you bastard?” Ed growled.

“Yes, we are,” Al, ever more diplomatic, rushed to answer. “You–um well– you look a lot like him.”

“Yes, I suppose I do,” The man muttered. Then, louder, he added, “We’ll be keeping these ones alive, Envy, so do try not to crush them too much if you haven’t already.”

“Um, alright,” Envy said, shifting to put less weight on the Elrics.

“As for the others,” the witch turned back to look at Ling. “We don’t need them. You can go ahead and eat that one, Gluttony.”

“No!” Ed yelled. “No, please, they're our friends!”

“But I have no use for them. A measly two souls aren’t even enough to use in my experiments. Although…” He tilted his head, regarding Ling with a more considering eye. “I suppose it might be time to give Greed another chance.”

The witch stood up straighter and clapped his hands sharply. “Wrath, Gluttony, bring the boy over here. I have use for him after all.”

Gluttony whined in disappointment, but obediently shifted off of Ling and grabbed one of his arms. Wrath grabbed the other, and the two of them began dragging Ling toward the throne in the middle of the room, ignoring his struggling as if it were nothing.

“No!” Lan Fan screamed. 

Ling twisted to look at her.

She’d taken her human form again. The sword that had been harmlessly hooked through the loop of her pommel was now stabbing her arm just below her right shoulder. There wasn’t much blood, the blade completely filling the wound, but that arm flopped limply as she struggled, reaching toward Ling.

“Let him go! Bring him back!” 

“Lan Fan, stop moving,” Ling yelled. “Your arm! You’ll make it worse if you don’t hold still!”

“I don’t care,” Lan Fan reached up to yank at the hilt of the sword. She managed only the slightest movement of the blade, and blood began oozing more quickly from around it. “Let him go! Take me instead!”

The witch and his weapons ignored her. Ling was dragged in front of the throne and forced to his knees as the witch retrieved a small flask of some viscous red liquid from a table nearby.

Gluttony moved to hold both of Ling’s arms, and Wrath took ahold of his chin, forcibly tilting his head up.

“This may hurt,” the witch said calmly, sounding almost like a doctor about to administer a shot.

“Let him go, you bastards!” Ed snarled.

“Please, stop this!” Al begged.

“Ling!” Lan Fan’s yell sounded more like a sob.

And then the witch tipped the contents of the flask into the cut on Ling’s cheek, and he couldn’t hear anything over his own screaming anymore.

—

Ling’s body twisted and writhed in ways it was never meant to, his bones breaking and rehealing over and over, his insides feeling like they were being boiled. 

It was excruciating. 

It was too much. 

Ling retreated from reality into the place inside himself he accessed for soul resonance training with Lan Fan. Not quite inside his own soul, but not in his body either. A quiet and empty void.

Except it wasn’t quiet or empty now. The pain followed him down, though it wasn’t as strong as it had been, and the space was full of a thousand overlapping screams. 

And there was another soul there.

The soul wasn’t normal. Not in the twisted, evil way the kishin eggs Lan Fan consumed on their missions were. It just looked like it had been put together hurriedly from the pieces of many others, somehow coming together into a cohesive whole. 

It was almost beautiful, in an alien way.

As Ling watched, the soul’s shape changed, until he was looking at a large, shadowy face with jagged teeth and glowing white eyes.

“Well, what do we have here?” The voice came from the face in front of him, though its mouth didn’t move. “Am I supposed to be using your body now?”

“What’s happening to me?” Ling asked.

“They didn’t explain, huh?” the thing asked. “Yeah, they wouldn’t. The names Greed, kid, and if I had to guess, what’s happening is they put me in your bloodstream and now your body’s trying to adapt to my power. Probably doesn’t feel too good.”

Maybe Ling was going crazy, but the floating head sounded a little sympathetic. 

“Look, you should probably just let go. Let yourself fade back into your soul or whatever. Only one person’s ever survived this, as far as I know, and it’s not a pretty way to go. I can keep you from feeling it, but not when you're fighting to stay conscious like this.”

“If I die, will they try again with someone else?”

“Huh?” One of Greed’s eyes got bigger than the other, giving the impression of raising an eyebrow he didn’t have. “Yeah, probably, if there’s anyone else around. Won’t be your problem anymore, though, will it?”

Ling thought of Lan Fan, pinned to a wall with a mangled arm and still fighting to get to him, to help him.

He couldn’t let her go through this.

Ling stood up as straight as he could while floating in a void and glared at Greed.

“I’m not going to die,” Ling willed himself to believe his own words as he spoke. “There are people counting on me. I’m going to save my friends, and I’ll take on all your power to do it if I have to.”

Greed stared at him silently for a moment, somehow looking stunned despite being mostly sharp teeth and empty eyes. Then he burst out laughing.

The laugh sounded more delighted than mocking, which was not what Ling would have expected.

“Oh, I like you,” Greed said when he was done with his laughing fit. “This is gonna be fun. Alright then, you take my power, and we’ll see what we can do for your friends. I got a score to settle with the old bastard myself.”

Greed moved closer to Ling, his mouth finally opening, stretching wide enough to swallow Ling whole. A blinding white light shone from between Greed’s teeth as they rushed toward Ling. The screaming around them crescendoed, growing louder and louder until Ling realized he was screaming along with it. Everything became so overwhelming, he was certain he was about to be ripped apart, and then–

—

Ling’s eyes opened, but he wasn’t the one to open them.

His body was still kneeling on the floor, right where it had been, his arms stretched out to either side of him.

Wrath and the witch stood looming over him. Gluttony had wandered away, not in Ling’s direct sight anymore, though he didn’t dare hope he’d gone far.

The pain faded rapidly, energy crackling around him as his body healed, until he felt fine. Better than fine. Maybe better than he’d ever felt in his life.

Ling’s head raised, his eyes looked around, but once again it wasn’t him behind the movements.

“Ling?” Ed asked. “Are you okay?”

Greed looked over at where Ed was still pressed to the floor by one of Envy’s hands. He smiled, and Ling could feel it pulling at his face in a way his own expressions never did.

“Oh, is that his name?” Greed asked. “Sorry, but Ling can’t come to the phone right now. Greed’s running the show from here on out.”

Hey, that’s one of my friends! Ling protested. You said we would–

Shut up and let me sell this, Greed hissed back inside the shared space between their souls.

“Greed,” The witch said. “Welcome back to the family, my son. Your past transgressions shall be forgiven, if you agree to once more work with us for our common goals.”

Ugh, I hate this guy, Greed muttered.

Out loud, he said: “What else could I do, when you’ve so kindly given me a second chance, Father?” He bowed Ling’s head in what might have been a convincing show of respect to someone who couldn’t hear his thoughts. “I promise, I won’t waste my new life.”

“Very good,” the witch hummed his approval. “Then rise, and tell me, how does the new body feel? And what form does the weapon inside you take now?”

“It feels pretty great,” Greed answered as he stood up. 

He raised both of Ling’s hands to eye level, and instead of the horrible twisting transformation Ling had been halfway bracing himself for, all that happened was a coal black something covering the skin to about halfway up his arms. The nails grew a bit longer and sharper, but nothing as dramatic as the woman Mustang had killed. (who Ling supposed must be the missing Lust)

“Still got my shield,” Greed added. Obviously, don’t know what else the asshole expected to happen.

“How disappointing,” the witch said. “I had hoped that combining your melted essence with a skilled swordsman such as this one would allow you to take a more useful shape, something suited to attacking rather than weak defense. Still, it can’t be helped I suppose. I can still find use for–”

“Monster!” Lan Fan shrieked from her place against the wall. “Give Ling his body back! Get out of him!”

Greed didn’t turn to look at her. 

Ling wished he would, desperate to check on her. 

Ling was grateful he didn’t, not wanting to see the pain he could hear in his best friend’s voice on her face.

“Fraid I can’t do that, sweetheart,” Greed drawled. “Not exactly a thing where I can just jump back out of the body once I’m in it, you understand.”

Don’t talk to her like that! Ling snapped, and was surprised to feel his hands twitch in response to his own emotion. 

Greed couldn’t jump back out, but maybe Ling could still get back in control.

Stop that! Greed admonished. I told you, I have to sell this. Just trust me for a minute, would you?

The witch turned to regard Lan Fan. “I’m afraid you’ve outlived your usefulness,” he said. “Wrath, dispose of her.”

No! Ling thrashed where he was trapped within his own body, but before he could make any progress, Greed moved.

Taking advantage of the witch’s distraction, the moment Wrath stepped away, Greed plunged one of Ling’s hands into the old man’s chest.

Whatever his shield was made of, it punched through flesh and bone as easily as a knife passing through butter.

“Like I said, Dad,” Greed spat. “I’m not wasting the chance you’ve given me.”

The witch looked very unconcerned for a man with a hand in his chest.

A wave of force slammed into Ling’s body, throwing him and Greed to the floor.

“So disappointing,” the witch sighed. His chest was healing with the same crackling energy that had surrounded Ling’s body moments before. “You do so much for your children, but in the end you can’t prevent them from making the same mistakes again and again. Oh well. Wrath, leave the girl and kill your brother for me.”

Wrath lunged at them, his movements almost too fast to follow. For the second time that day, Ling was in a fight with the ridiculously skilled swordsman, but this time he wasn’t even able to control his body. He had to rely on Greed to dodge and block fast enough, using his shielded hands to deflect blow after blow in a deadly dance.

Can’t you put that shield over more of my body? Ling asked as Wrath managed to cut his face, again. At least this time it healed almost before the pain could register.

That would take too much energy to power it up in the middle of a fight. Greed answered. Still kinda settling into my new body here, you know? This is what we have to work with for now.

Too much energy… 

Ling knew one way to boost a weapon’s power and allow for high energy attacks.

I’m going to try soul resonance. Ling said.

No way, Greed argued, ducking a slash from Wrath’s sword so close Ling was pretty sure it cut an inch off his ponytail. We don’t even know if you can match my wavelength, and if you do it wrong the distraction will get us killed!

We’re going to get killed eventually anyway if we do nothing. You can’t keep this up forever. And anyway, if our souls weren’t at least somewhat compatible my body would have rejected you, right?

Maybe? I don’t actually know how that works.

I can do it, Ling said. He couldn’t lie to someone sharing his body like this. He had to make himself believe it. I know I can. Just–trust me for a minute would you?

…Fine, Greed said. But hurry up, alright? You weren’t lying when you said I couldn’t keep this up forever.

Even as Greed spoke, Wrath got another hit in. This time it was on Ling's left arm above the shield, and felt much deeper. It still healed right away, but it was clear that Greed was losing ground.

Ling forced himself to ignore the fight, instead turning his attention to Greed’s soul.

The soul was unfamiliar, and reaching toward it felt strange. Ling didn’t know if that was because it was artificially constructed, or if he just wasn’t used to resonating with someone who wasn’t Lan Fan. She was the only weapon he’d ever worked with before.

(Wrath knocked Greed off balance, and Ling distantly felt himself falling. He didn’t let it distract him.)

Greed’s wavelength was much more aggressive than Lan Fan’s. There was a sense of desperately reaching for something to it, whereas Lan Fan felt more grounded and content.

(Greed hit the floor, and before he could try to get back up or even roll away, Wrath was standing over him, one foot on either side of Ling’s torso, trapping them in place. Ling ignored it.)

And yet, Ling discovered that matching this new wavelength wasn’t as difficult as he’d feared. Even as frenetic as it was, there was a clear opening within it. An empty space that Ling found he slotted into nearly perfectly. 

(Wrath’s sword swung down toward their neck.)

Ling’s soul wavelength matched Greeds completely.

The shield spread up from their arms and over their whole body. It reached their neck a millisecond before Wrath’s blade, and the sword snapped on impact.

The shield kept spreading up. Ling felt it cover their head, but he wasn’t thinking about it’s progress anymore.

Wrath stumbled back a step, and they surged to their feet. Ling wasn’t sure who was controlling the body anymore. He didn’t think it even mattered at this point.

This didn’t feel like soul resonance with Lan Fan. 

That always felt powerful in a safe familiar way, a close connection with the best friend he’d known his whole life. They worked together well because they had been close for as long as either of them could remember. It was a comfortable teamwork that Ling treasured.

This was something else entirely. Greed’s soul was unfamiliar, and yet it felt like an expansion of Ling’s own. It was brand new and exciting; a little frightening as Ling felt himself swept along Greed’s wavelength, but exhilarating as he could tell Greed was moving along with him just as much. It was a dance, and a struggle for dominance, and an embrace all at once. Ling didn’t know what they would do–what they could do–together, but the possibilities felt endless.

Wrath backed away as they stepped toward him. He threw more blades as they approached, but Ling couldn’t even feel them when they bounced off the shield.

“Oh what the hell?” Envy yelled from where they were still restraining Ed and Al near the door. 

There was a noise like cannon fire from that direction, and something exploded against Ling and Greed’s back. It didn’t even break their stride.

The clawed tips of their fingers had grown longer than before. Watching Wrath retreat got abruptly boring, and they rushed forward, sticking those sharp claws into Wrath’s abdomen just below the ribs.

“This is for my friends,” they growled. 

Ling didn’t know who’s anger was fueling them more, if they were taking revenge for Lan Fan’s injury or something that had happened in Greed’s past. 

It didn’t matter which it was. 

It was both.

They lifted their arm and flung Wrath over their head. He flew through the air and collided with the back of the throne with a sickening crunch.

They turned to the witch, but before they could take a step in his direction he made some complicated gesture with his hands and an orb of shimmering red force closed around them. 

A soul wavelength painfully disparate from theirs surrounded them on all sides, and the resonance abruptly ended.

They fell to their knees, the impact jarring as the shield retreated to only covering their forearms once again. 

Now Ling could tell it was Greed who clapped their hands over their ears against the onslaught.

“That’s enough of your little tantrum,” the witch said, barely even looking at them. “Gluttony, you can eat him.”

“Thank you father!” Gluttony yelled.

Ling couldn’t move. Couldn’t try to wrestle control back from Greed. Could barely think.

He could only watch as Gluttony leapt toward them, grinning and eager to devour them.

And then a blade passed through Gluttony’s head at the level of his eyes. 

A blow like that must have severed the monster’s brain.

His body fell to the ground, the smile still wide on the lower half of his face.

Lan Fan stood behind him. Her left arm turned into a blade just below the elbow.

Her right arm was gone from the shoulder, nothing but a bloody stump. 

Ling didn’t turn to look, but he was sure the arm was right where it had been, pinned to the wall, and now cut away.

“You will not touch him,” Lan Fan growled. The rage in her voice was like nothing Ling had ever heard.

“Lan Fan,” he gasped out, back in control of his own voice.

“Ling?” Lan Fan’s eyes widened. “You are still in there! Ling, you have to fi–”

“This is completely unacceptable,” the witch said. He was glaring at Lan Fan, showing something other than vague disinterest for the first time since Ling had laid eyes on him. 

Now he looked pissed.

“You break into my home. You ransack my research laboratories. And now you kill one of my children.”

He stalked toward Lan Fan as he spoke. She stood firm, but Ling could see her beginning to sway on her feet, the blood loss no doubt catching up to her.

With his focus on Lan Fan, the sphere of disrupting soul wavelength around Greed and Ling began to dissipate. They struggled to their feet.

“This will not stand!” the witch roared, raising his hands in preparation for some spell.

Lan Fan raised her one remaining arm to block whatever was coming.

Whatever it was, they’d never find out. 

Greed once again punched through his father’s rib cage with one clawed hand. Not willing to leave anything to chance this time, Ling slashed the claws of their other hand across the back of the witch’s neck, cutting through the spinal cord.

His body tumbled to the floor, and it didn’t move again.

A moment of stunned silence. 

Then Envy screamed.

“Greed, you traitor! How dare you side with these worms? I’ll kill you for this!”

They jumped over Ed and Al to rush at Greed.

Before they got there, the wall opposite the door exploded inward, and more teachers from the DWMA poured into the room.

Ling didn’t care to stand and watch the fight that followed. He ran to Lan Fan’s side, just making it in time to catch her as she fell and lower her gently to the floor.

“You idiot,” Ling said, surprised when it came out like a sob. He realized that he was crying. “Why would you cut off your arm for me? You could have died!”

“You could have died,” Lan Fan said. 

Ling pulled off his jacket and pressed it against what remained of her shoulder. She cried out in pain, and Ling felt like scum, but he didn’t let up the pressure.

After a few gasping breaths Lan Fan continued: “And I would have had to watch you die, useless and stuck to the wall. This was the only way.”

Ling shook his head. “Still. Your arm–”

“Well I for one am grateful that you saved my ass!” Greed put in, shoving Ling out of control mid-sentence.

Lan Fan narrowed her eyes. “I was saving Ling, not you.”

Greed shrugged casually, but Ling could tell how careful he was not to let the gesture jostle Lan Fan's shoulder where he was still holding the jacket against it.

“Yeah, well. Same ass, so thanks anyway.”

“I hate you,” Lan Fan said, without much force behind it. “Also, I’m going to pass out now, so don’t let Ling die before I wake up.”

“No!” Ling reclaimed control of their body. “Lan Fan, don’t pass out, okay? You need to try to stay awake.”

“Can’t. Sorry,” Lan Fan murmured, and then her eyes closed and her head lolled limply against the ground.

“Lan Fan!” Ling screamed.

Distantly, he was aware of the sounds of fighting coming to a close, of someone–Professor Stein maybe–trying to tug him away from Lan Fan and saying to let him look, of Greed taking back control to make him obey.

He heard Greed in their head more clearly than the noises around them.

Let the doctor guy look at her, Ling. She’ll be okay. She’s tough, I can already tell.

Ling couldn’t pull their eyes away from Lan Fan. He appreciated Greed trying to comfort him, but he couldn’t answer. 

He wouldn’t believe she’d be okay until he saw her awake again. And until then, nothing else mattered.

—

Lan Fan woke up the next day. 

Ling and Greed were sitting in a chair they’d dragged next to her bed in the infirmary. They’d refused to leave her side since she’d been out of surgery. 

A few times some of the higher ranking meisters and death scythes had tried to draw them away for a debrief, but they’d refused to go.

Surprisingly, Professor Hawkeye had taken their side. Glaring from where she sat in her own chair beside Mustang’s bed, she snapped at the would-be interrogators to have some patience and respect. 

Ling was pretty sure they wouldn’t have been allowed to stay no matter how much he wanted them to if she hadn’t stepped in.

He promised himself to always pay attention in her class from now on, and never let any other students get away with badmouthing her.

Lan Fan woke slowly, and smiled when she saw Ling leaning over her, hovering with indecision between running to get help and staying by her side.

Then the smile fell away, and she looked down at where her arm should be. Where it never would be again.

Ling cleared his throat. “Winry can make you a new one, once you’ve healed. Like Ed’s.”

“Right,” Lan Fan agreed. Her voice sounded hollow.

Greed slid into control of the body, and Ling felt a shit eating grin grow across their face.

“You should have her make you something with spikes and flames and shit. Something real cool, better than the old boring one.”

Lan Fan turned and glared at Greed. “I don’t want your opinion on what I do with my arm.”

She was angry, but Ling thought she might also be glad for the distraction. At the very least there was life in her eyes again.

Greed shrugged. “Fine, do what you want. Get a lame normal prosthetic and waste the chance of a lifetime for badass body modification. See if I–”

“So,” Ling interrupted before Lan Fan could decide to try and strangle Greed one handed. “You’ll never believe what stupid shit I heard Black Star and Kid got up to this time.”

—

They were still talking about nothing important, Ling holding Lan Fan’s hand, a few hours later when the door to the infirmary opened and Stein walked in.

Ling couldn’t say he was a fan of Stein’s bedside manner. The man always gave the impression that he’d rather peel your skin off and look at what was under it than give you a bandaid(not least because he occasionally waxed poetic about the joys of peeling skin off to look at what was under it), but he was the closest thing the school had to medical professional after the former nurse turned out to be a crazy snake witch bent on plunging the world into madness.

And, to be fair, he never actually experimented on any of the students in his care. 

As far as Ling knew.

So he assumed the man was there to check up on Lan Fan or Mustang, and didn’t pay him any mind.

Until Lord Death himself walked in behind him.

It was rare to see their school’s headmaster outside of his office. He only made visits to other areas when something very important came up. And since there wasn’t an imminent threat to existence as they knew it, that could only mean that they were in big trouble.

“Hi, howdy, hello, everyone!” Lord Death greeted them brightly. “I hear you young people have had quite the adventure.”

Ling wished he could take the good mood as a sign he wasn’t about to be expelled, or arrested, or worse, but Lord Death was always like that.

Before Ling could figure out a safe answer, Greed took control again.

“Oh, now what the fuck are you?”

“Shut up!” Ling hissed, shoving Greed back out of the way. “Lord Death, I apologize. He didn’t mean it how it sounded, really! Please forgive–”

“No need for that, Ling,” Lord Death said, waving an oversized hand dismissively. “I know the way I present myself is less than impressive. Don’t want to scare the students, after all! And that little outburst did prove that what the Elrics said was true. You really do have someone else rattling around in that head of yours.”

Ling could feel Greed trying to get control again, no doubt to insult Lord Death again, but he held his ground. That surprised Greed enough that he stopped reaching to take over.

What gives, Ling, he complained.

Lord Death is in charge of this school, Ling explained. He can expel me–or throw us both in a cell–if he wants, so please just stay quiet for now.

That’s in charge? Greed asked. This place is even weirder than the old man’s hideout. But fine, whatever, I’ll be good.

Lord Death turned to Stein. “Is there anything that can be done? I hate the thought of leaving the poor Yao boy stuck like this.”

That was marginally insulting.

Stein shook his head. “Unfortunately, no," he intoned, absentmindedly tightening the screw through his cranium. "As far as I’m aware, there’s no way to separate a meister and weapon who have been fused like this. I’ve been looking into it for Crona, and I haven’t been able to make any progress. It doesn’t help that I can’t experiment on them.” At everyone in the room’s concerned looks, he quickly tacked on: “Not that I would. They’ve had enough experimenting in their life, and respect their bodily autonomy. And Marie would kill me if I tried it.”

“Lord Death, Professor Stein, we don’t want to be separated,” Ling said. 

Everyone turned to look at him like he’d grown a second head.

“It’s–I know I didn’t ask for this,” Ling tried to explain. “But Greed and I work well together. We get along. And, especially if trying to break us apart would be dangerous, I’d rather we stay this way.”

You really mean that? Greed asked. Ling could feel the disbelief coming off him in waves.

With a sinking heart, Ling realized he’d never actually talked to Greed about this.

I do, Ling said because it was true. But I guess I shouldn’t speak for both of us. If you want your own body, we can see if Stein–

“You heard him, we’re staying like this,” Greed said like he was daring anyone to argue with him.

Lord Death sighed. “No offense intended, Greed was it? But you are an unknown entity, one we have no experience with, and it would be irresponsible of me to endanger my students by–”

Hawkeye snorted, which was the most undignified and unprofessional thing Ling had ever witnessed her do.

“Endanger how? With all due respect, Lord Death, he’s been here for over 24 hours already and all he’s done is sit by Lan Fan’s bedside and make a few jokes in poor taste. If he meant to pose a threat, surely he’d have done so by now.”

“Professor Hawkeye is right,” Lan Fan spoke up. “Greed has done nothing to hurt any of us. He didn’t choose to be fused with Ling, and Ling would have died–we all would have died–if Greed hadn’t killed Wrath and the witch. If–” Lan Fan paused, her voice suddenly very watery. 

Ling was alarmed to see tears gathering in her eyes.

Lan Fan swallowed heavily before continuing. “If Ling wants Greed to be his new weapon now that I’m crippled, then–”

“No,” Ling interrupted her. “No, no way Lan Fan! I’d never abandon you like that! You’re my best friend. Greed may have helped me kill the witch, but I got those other 99 souls with you. We started this journey together, and that’s how we’ll finish it!”

“But you said–”

“Death the Kid has two weapons. I don’t see why I can’t do the same.” Ling placed a hand on her hair. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily. I think the three of us could be a really good team. If that’s okay with the two of you?”

Lan Fan sniffled and nodded.

Greed took back over the body, and smiled in a way Ling didn’t trust.

“Fine by me,” Greed said. “I’m always down for a three way.”

Ling shoved him to the back of their mindscape.

“Ew! Don’t phrase it like that!”

Lan Fan just laughed.

Ling was shocked by that reaction, but also grateful to Greed for making it happen. It was the first time he’d heard her laugh since things started going bad at the witch’s stronghold.

“Alright, you’ve convinced me!” Lord Death said. “Greed can stay, and be enrolled as another student of the DWMA. I always do love giving people a chance. Of course you know, Ling, this means you’ll have to get double the souls of all the other meister students. 99 kishin eggs and one witch apiece.”

Ling nodded. “That’s very fair, Lord Death. I can handle that. After all, Lan Fan and I already got her 99, and Greed and I killed a witch.”

“Well, actually,” Lord Death started, and Ling could already tell he would hate the rest of this sentence. “Since you went after a witch and failed to kill him with Lan Fan’s blade, the two of you will have to start over.”

“What!” Ling and Lan Fan screeched in perfect unison.

“Yes, I know it’s no fun, but them’s the rules!” Lord Death said. “The same applies to the Elric boys. Let that be a lesson for you all about stowing away on missions you’ve been told you’re not ready for!”

“Also, not to kick you when you’re down,” Greed put in. “But everyone keeps talking about me and Ling killing the witch, and he is for sure not dead.”

“Huh? But we stabbed in the heart and cut his spine!”

“Yeah, and did you see a soul?” Greed asked. “He figured out how to siphon most of it off for safekeeping in a different container ages ago. That’s what all the tubes were for. You were kind of checked out, but I saw Envy get away with his body and Wrath. They definitely retrieved the soul before they booked it to another safe house. Oh, Wrath also isn’t dead. His brain was still attached and he wasn’t a pile of ash, so he can heal.”

“Oh god, this is the worst,” Ling groaned, putting his head in his hands. 

Lan Fan patted him on the back, and Greed did the mental equivalent of the same.

“We can handle it,” Lan Fan said.

“Oh yeah, it’ll be no problem,” Greed put in.

Ling supposed that, if he had to start from square one on gathering twice the souls he’d thought he’d ever need and eventually deal with an ancient witch’s inevitable revenge plot, he could at least do so with good company.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Ling said. “We’ve totally got this.”

[noirve]

but were the highs (watching armand be scary hot and powerful) worth the lows (him hurting and threatening claudia)