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pitchsidestories · 3 days

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all's well that ends well II Lucy Bronze x Reader

masterlist I word count: 2010

a/n: hi, we hope you enjoy the full length oneshot to the snippet we posted last week. 🫶🏻

“You!”

Your voice was high-pitched and cracked slightly at the end of the question.

You didn’t care.

There was no way, she was actually here. You had heard the rumours but hadn’t believed any of it. And now she was actually here, right in front of your eyes, on the Chelsea training grounds.

She actually did it.

You watched her through narrowed eyes, subconsciously clenching your jaw.

She smiled brightly at you: “Yes, me. Good morning to you too, pretty girl.“

There it was, that typical smug smile. Lucy Bronze, just like you wanted to forget her.

“Don’t call me that.“, you warned her.

Bad enough that she was here, you didn’t need her stupid remarks.

She remained unbothered, teasing you some more: “Oh, someone woke up in a bad mood.“

“No, only still stuck in a nightmare called Lucy Bronze.“, you replied, taking in the unfamiliar sight of her in the blue Chelsea training shirt.

From the look on her face she clearly interpreted it as you checking her out.

You cringed.

“A nightmare, huh?”, she repeated with a grin.

You wanted nothing more than to wipe that stupid self-assured smile off her face.

“Dressed in Chelsea colours. Why did you come back? And of all clubs you had to choose mine?!”

You half-expected her to crack another joke but instead, her face turned serious.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t come here for you. I came for what the club had to offer.“

“In other words, Barca didn’t want you anymore.“, you taunted her.

You watched, waiting to see her face fall but it never did. She just cocked her head and replied: “Cold. But essentially yes, they didn’t guarantee me a spot in the starting squad so I left.“

Before you could stop yourself, you released a humourless laugh.

Following Lucys confused look, you explained: “You always leave when it gets uncomfortable. See you on the pitch.“

You turned around and took exactly two steps towards the football pitch before you heard Lucy catching up to you.

“What’s that supposed to mean? If you really think that you don’t know me well enough.“, she asked, her voice finally conveying some anger.

“Oh, I do know you.“, you shrugged and left her standing on the sideline of the pitch, joining your teammates for the warm-up.

To your surprise, she jogged up next to you, clearly not done with the conversation yet. “Sure. Of course you know me better than I know myself. You’ve always been such a know-it-all.“

You huffed in offence but before you could protest, she increased her pace and left your side.

In her place, Sam Kerr appeared with a curious look on her face: “Wait, you and Bronzey got history?”

“Yes, it was a long time ago though and I don’t want to talk about it, okay.”, you revealed reluctantly.

“Aw man, I love a good break up story.”, the Australian forward replied pouting.

“I know you do Sammy, but you won’t hear that one.”, you told her.

“I’ll figure it out sooner or later.”, she declared confidently.

“Don’t you dare asking Lucy about us.”, you warned your teammate.

“I’m sure she’ll tell me.”, Sam responded winking.

Much to her actual surprise the English defender did open up towards her, once it was just the two of them in an empty room.

“Our story is quick to tell we were together for quite a while, I went to another club, so we tried to do long distance, yet it didn’t work out.”

“And she thinks it’s your fault?”, Sam questioned.

“Obviously and she’s talking about comfortable all she has ever known is English football.”, the older woman shrugged.

The forward took a moment to think about what she just said before humming. “Oh, this is going to be a very interesting season.”

“Admittedly, I did a few things wrong in the past and there isn’t much I regret but these I do.” Memories of the moment Lucy regretted the most passed behind her inner eye.

“That’s too much information. I didn’t come for a deep dive.”, Sam intervened chuckling.

“Come on girls, don’t dally.”, Millie who stood in the doorframe called for them.

“She thinks she has something to say around here now that she has an honours doctorate.”, the forward rolled her eyes playfully.

“We’re ready, Doctor Bright.”, the dark-haired defender reassured the blonde with a teasing grin on her lips.

“Good to hear, Doctor Bronze.”, Millie answered happily.

A few days had passed since your conversation with your ex-girlfriend. During and post training you tried your best to ignore her. You were about to leave the Chelsea grounds, but a familiar voice held you back.

“Can we talk?”

“Now?”, you wanted to know.

“Yes.”, Lucy nodded.

“Fine, but be quick, I don’t have much time.”, you stated in an icy tone crossing your arms impatiently.

“Then you’ve to make some time.”, she emphasized.

“What do you want to talk about?”, you asked short-temperedly.

“About us. This is getting ridiculous. How’re we supposed to play together when you ignore me all the time?”, the defender countered eagerly awaiting your response.

The late afternoon light enhanced her tan, and her green eyes were glowing. You couldn’t help to admire the woman in front of you, but when you remembered what happened between you two and acid formed in your mouth, so you spat out words as cruel as the taste of that. Sentences you knew would hurt her.

“You’re less quick and sharp nowadays. Also how am I supposed to trust you on and off the pitch?”

Lucy blinked at you. Her face frozen, not slightest slip. Shaking her head, she replied: “You really have a way of making someone feel welcome here.“

“I’m normally more welcoming to our new signings… making sure they settle well into London…“

You stopped yourself from continuing and bit your lip. Why did you now feel the need to prove to her that your were actually good person?

“But not to me, I got it.“, she said, almost reading your exact next thought. She should know that you didn’t welcome her here.

“You’re a whole different story.“, you said plainly.

Your eyes suddenly caught sight of her arms crossed in front of herself. The little hairs stood up, small bumps forming around them. She had goosebumps.

“You’ll need a jacket. The evenings can already get cold.“, you advised her, trying to let no empathy seep through.

At once, you felt glad that you remembered to wear a long-sleeved shirt to training. You absentmindedly pulled the sleeves over your hands.

Your ex just rolled her eyes: “You act like I’ve never been to England.“

“You’re freezing. I can see that from here.“

“Yeah, this is obviously not Barcelona. But I’m not new here.“, she replied with clear annoyance.

You refused to let her have the point. “True but you never played in London though.“

“No, I didn’t.“

“See.“

It was petty but you won. You turned to walk away from her like you had done so many times in the past few days but again she wouldn’t let you. Her hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you back in one swift movement.

“Where are you going? We’re not done here.“

You sighed in frustration: “I won’t ignore you in training anymore. Happy?”

“No.“

“There’s more?”, you frowned at her.

“Of course, it’s not done with that.“

Eyebrows raised, you waited for an explanation: “So?”

“We should talk about us too. And what happened.“, she suggested.

Your heart stopped for a second, your lungs felt deprived of air and you couldn’t do anything but stare at her for a second. There was no way you would bring that break up back again. You both knew how it had ended.

“Another time, okay?”

“Y/n…“

You forced yourself to a half-smile: “See you tomorrow.“

You found yourself in the starting line-up for the next friendly at Stamford Bridge. You would be playing on the right wing, in front of Lucy. And despite all your doubts, the game went well.

More than well, to be honest. It was like you had never been apart. Lucys typical runs forward gave you the opportunity to move towards the centre and position yourself in the penalty areas. One of her crosses was so precise that you only had to tilt your head to put the ball into the net.

“Amazing game, girls. The season is off to a great start.“, Millie cheered as she high-fived you way too hard.

“Yeah, thanks for the assist, Luce.“

“You’re welcome. I still know your movements on the pitch.”, Lucy waved it off while the look on her face was melancholic. There was a hint of fondness in her voice too.

“And I’m sorry for what I said about your playing style.”, you bit your lip guiltily.

“I know.”, the defender sounded almost amused.

“Good.”, you sighed relived.

“Don’t worry.”, the older woman added quickly.

“Bye Luce.”

“See you, y/n.”, Lucy watched you go with a sad smile.

“Lucy? You two are so weird.”, Millie tapped on the dark-haired defender’s shoulder.

Irritated she turned around to face her team’s captain. “What do you mean?”

“Why don’t you finally talk about it?”, the blonde asked frustrated.

“I try to, but she always runs away.”, the older player explained annoyed.

“Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out for you.”, Millie promised.

And the Chelsea captain stayed true to her words.

It was the next day when you found yourself locked in a room with your ex-girlfriend.

“Sam, Erin, that’s not funny, let us out!”, you commanded, hammering your hands against the door. You felt like a mouse stuck in a trap.

“Do you hear anything, Erin?”, you heard the Australian ask the Scottish midfielder. The reply wasn’t audible to your ears because Lucy had started to speak.

“They’ll open the door again once we talked about us.”

“That’s so childish of them. To talk about us? That’s history.”, you grumbled.

“Of course. It’s obviously not history for you if you keep pouting about it.”, the defender observed

“I’m not pouting, I’m so over you at this point.”, you corrected her.

“Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”, your former lover sounded unconvinced.

“You really broke my heart back then.”, you confessed quietly, your voice full of the sadness and hurt from days in the past when the breakup was still fresh like a open wound you thought would never heal.

“I didn’t do anything.”, she remarked calmly.

“Yes, you did you left.”, you disagreed fiercely.

“I left because I had to. After you assured me, long distance would work.”, Lucy defended herself.

A grieving smirk appeared on your face, you remembered your old self, what a fool she has been. “I thought it would, but it didn’t that happens.”

“Yes, it happens. So, stop blaming me for leaving it was a mutual decision.”

“It wasn’t your fault- Cam we leave now?”, you directed the question towards the people who kept you in that room.

“Nope, you know what we want to hear.”, Sam declared grinning.

“Lucy, what does she want from us?”, you wanted to know.

“I’ve no idea., she admitted before continuing, we won’t get back together, Sam. That won’t work.”

“Exactly.”, you added quickly.

“That’s not what we want. Keep talking and you’ll see.”, the forward insisted.

“What if we begin again? Like we just met for the first time.”, Lucy suggested.

“Wait, what?”, you frowned.

“We can start over.”, she offered in a hopeful tone.

“You mean as in strangers who get to know each other?”

“Maybe.” , she nodded knowing fully well you’d never be a stranger to her.

“And we don’t know where this leads to?”, you felt your heart flutter against your chest, the door was open again and you both stepped into the unknowing. The past was the past the future was uncertain, all you could influence was the present.

All's well that ends well. Yet this was only the beginning and the closing of one chapter of your relationship.

#lucy bronze #lucy bronze x reader #lucy bronze imagine #woso x reader #woso #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso oneshot #woso community #engwnt #lionesses x reader #lionesses #barclays wsl

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barcaatthemoon · 3 days

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friend of the bride || lia walti x reader ||

You hook up with Lia at your best friend's wedding.

MINORS DNI, 18+, Smut warning.

You knew about Lia. You had never played against Lia, but you knew all about her. It was your job to know about football, both international and domestic. She hadn't played in the NWSL, but you were a pretty big Arsenal fan even before she had joined up. But even before then, you had heard people in the business talking about the Swiss player.

It made sense that she'd be in the bridal party. Lia was Ana's best friend, and maid of honor. In a way, you thought it was wild that the two of you weren't better acquainted. Obviously you understood Ana being hesitant about introducing the two of you. You were a bit of a womanizer to say the least, even if you had settled down quite a bit since starting your gig as an official NWSL commentator.

"Excuse me, I don't know if we know each other. I'm (Y/n)." You could feel Ana's eyes on you as you approached Lia. There weren't many people that made you nervous, but your best friend's new wife was definitely one of them. The two of you had been teammates years ago whenever Ana played on the Thorns, and maybe, just maybe, you had seen a spark all those years ago.

Nothing had ever come of it, and you were happier because of it. Ana was cool, and she definitely would have hated you whenever you transferred across the country at the end of the year. You weren't a native to New Jersey, but Rutgers had offered you a full ride, so you counted yourself as a bit of a Jersey girl. Sky Blue wasn't perfect by any means, but it was definitely the place that you had wanted to retire playing for.

"I'm Lia, and no, we haven't been properly introduced," she said. She outstretched her hand, and you took the offering. Behind you, you could practically feel Ana attempting to burn holes into the back of your head to deter you. "My friend is watching us."

"If I'm being honest, I don't blame her. She's heard stories of how I can be at weddings." Bashful wasn't something that normally worked well with you, but Lia found the blush cute. It became obvious as she patted the chair in front of her that she knew a bit about you. Ana had to have warned her before either of you arrived in Seattle for the wedding.

"I've heard stories of how you are away from weddings. I get it though, life feels a bit more special with all of this love in the air," Lia said. You thought that she was sweet, and a part of you was about to back out when she grabbed onto your wrist. "I fly out tomorrow afternoon, and I'd hate to leave without as many good memories as I can get."

"She'll kill me if we leave together," you told Lia. She glanced behind you and waved at Ana. You did everything in your power not to turn, but Lia seemed amused by whatever was going on behind you. "Is she being mean?"

"Not at all, but you should say your goodbyes and get your coat. I'm in room 615," Lia told you. She slipped her key card in your pocket, and you wondered how long she had been watching you. Lia left first, leaving you to sit there stunned for a moment. It was hasty, but you said your goodbyes and promised Ana that you'd be safe with her friend. She was a bit dismissive, but you didn't miss the little twinkle in her eye. If you had any more to drink, you would have considered that she was happy about you and Lia running off together.

It seemed almost too good to be true that Lia's room was on the same floor as yours. You made a quick stop at your own room to shed your suit jacket and make sure that you still looked good. Your room was only a few doors down from Lia's, and you wondered if she had seen you at all over the week. The entirety of the wedding party had been flown in several days earlier than all of the other guests, and you doubted the maid of honor had been an exception to that.

"You left your jacket. That's a shame, it looked good. At least I can still do this," Lia said as she grabbed you by your tie and pulled you into the room. You stumbled a little, but caught yourself as Lia's arms wrapped around your shoulders. She was still in her dress, but without her heels on, you were a couple inches taller than her. "You know, I had always hoped you would find your way to the WSL. I would have liked to play against you."

"I bet we could have had a lot of fun together." Lia seemed to catch onto the hidden meaning of your words quickly. You were a bit surprised by her forwardness as she kissed you. It was welcome, as was the feeling of her hands pulling your button out from where it had been tucked into your pants.

The women you hooked up with had all definitely wanted you, but they were rarely as confident in themselves as Lia. She was sweet and gentle, but it wasn't submissive in the slightest. She took what she wanted without overstepping, and it took you several moments for your brain to kick in and join her.

"Take my dress off," Lia told you. You didn't hesitate for even half a second to turn the Swiss woman around. There was a little clasp by the small of her back, and once it was undone, Lia let the dress slip off from her body and pool onto the floor.

You could see that her chest was bare, but that did nothing to prepare you for the sight of her. She stood in front of you completely topless. You weren't being subtle in your staring, but Lia didn't seem to mind it. She let you keep staring as she pushed you back onto the bed. Lia climbed onto your lap, and there she sat straddling you as she looked down at you.

"There are plenty of more comfortable places for you to sit," you started. Lia showed her amusement with a little half-smirk. Normally, your jokes garnered a bit more of a reaction, and the fact that she hadn't given you one made you want to try again. You wanted to impress this woman with every part of you, and you had no idea why. Nobody was supposed to mean this much to you, not for a single night anyway.

"I'm already practically naked on top of you, lines aren't necessary," Lia told you. You nodded and swallowed, somewhat nervous as she stared at you. It was like she was studying you, less out of curosity, but more in the way a predator would study its prey. "You're wearing too much, and I'd hate to ruin your very nice suit."

You nearly let out a whine as Lia moved off of you. You scrambled off of the bed and hastily undressed yourself, not caring that for a moment, you were more bare than she was. Lia hummed in appreciation as you stood in front of her, completely naked. She guided you down onto your knees in front of her and leaned over her own lap to kiss you.

"Show me what you can do. I hope everything I've heard about you is true," Lia said. Even after she broke the kiss, you didn't stop kissing her. Your mouth moved all over her neck and jaw, occasionally stopping to mark a couple of hickeys for her to take as a temporary souvenir. You were a lot less careful with your marking whenever you got to her chest, sucking as many love bites onto her skin as you could.

Lia tried not to rush you, but you could tell that her patience was growing thin. She ground herself against the palm of your hand as you cupped her over her underwear. You let out a pleasured groan at the feeling of her heat through the fabric. You could practically feel her arousal growing as she moved against your hand.

"More, I want more," Lia told you. You took your time teasing her as you took her underwear off. Your face was buried into the side of her thigh when your attention was pulled by a frustrated growl. Lia looked down at you with a look so sweet that you almost got whiplash from the way her hand balled into a fist around your hair.

You let her guide your face, only sticking your tongue out to give her something to seek out. Lia loosened her grip when she felt your lips wrap around her clit. Her thighs clamped around your head, holding you against her as she rocked her hips back and forth gently. You pried her thighs apart to make room for your fingers to tease at her entrance, stroking over the hole with the promise of penetration.

This time, Lia didn't have to ask or tell you to keep going. Once you got into your groove, everything came very naturally to you. Lia was moving wildly on the bed, each buck of her hips punctuated by a little creak of the bed. Between Lia's moaning, the bed creaking, and the absolutely obscene sound of your fingers fucking in and out of her, there wasn't a moment of silence.

"That's it, right there. Don't you dare stop. Oh fuck!" Lia exclaimed. You felt a sharp tug to your hair as her other hand wrapped around the back of your neck. You could feel her nails dig into your skin, but the pain of it just made your eyes roll back in your head a little. Above you, Lia's body held you close even as she tried to squirm away from you, torn between wanting to stop and wanting to see just how hard you could make her cum. Ultimately, she ended up pushing you away just a couple minutes later as her body began to approach overstimulation.

"I think you did a number on me," you muttered as you rubbed at the little nail indents on the back of your neck. Lia sat up on her elbows, just enough to see her reflection in the TV. She looked gorgeous to you, disheleved in the most perfect of ways. There was no denying what had just happened, not when you looked at Lia.

"I can do a lot worse," Lia laughed. You clammed up a bit at her words. You had no idea what was wrong with you because Lia shouldn't have been getting to you this badly. She was practically a stranger, and yet, you didn't want to just gather your clothes and run off to your own room just yet. "If you ever find yourself in London, message me. Now though, I think you should get going. Guests are going to be back any moment now."

"I've never been asked out and kicked out at the same time. You are something else," you said in disbelief. Lia could tell that you weren't angry, and just to keep it that way, she walked you out. A part of you wanted to linger, but aside from a pretty chaste kiss, Lia didn't give you the opportunity. You just had to hope that you'd catch her before she ran off the next day, but even if you didn't, you couldn't be mad about how your night went.

#woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso smut #lia walti smut #lia walti imagine #lia walti x reader #minors dni #minors do not interact

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thinkinginpen · 3 days

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Unexpected Company

a/n: It may not be the holidays yet but who doesn't love some good Christmas spirit in the fall? pairing: old!logan x reader w/c: 3.2k warnings: romance, hinting, love, fake dating, age gap, etc. summary: You went to Logan's house, your grumpy old neighbor, to bring him cookies and get away from the Christmas party. Little did you know this grumpy old man would take a turn.

"What is all this racket-" Logan muttered as the doorbell rang again for a third time in a row. With a groan, the old man heaved himself up from his armchair. He hadn't had a single minute's rest today, what with the kids home from school on winter break, and now some nosy neighbor was bothering him when it was starting to get late.

He reached the door and yanked it open, intending to give whoever it was a piece of his mind. Instead, he was greeted by a familiar face. You were standing on his porch, holding a plate of cookies.

He had seen you many times but always avoided you.

"What are you doing here?" he said gruffly, his voice rough and full of suspicion. He didn't want to start another fight with the neighbors.

You smiled sweetly, not at all bothered by his harsh tone. "Merry Christmas, Mr. Logan," you said, holding out the plate of cookies. "I brought you some cookies."

He didn't know what to say. Nobody had ever brought him anything before. He was a difficult old man and he knew it. He wasn't used to such kindness.

"Why?" he asked gruffly.

You chuckled softly, the sound light and sweet, like music to his ears. "Just a little neighborly gesture," you said, tilting your head to the side.

He found himself oddly captivated by the sight. You were so different from him. You were so… soft. And those eyes…

He shook himself out of it. He was too old and too grumpy for nonsense like that. "Neighborly gesture?" he repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Don't you know I'm not the friendly type?"

You shrugged, still smiling. "I don't care," you said cheerfully. "Everybody deserves cookies on Christmas."

Logan snorted. "That's a load of Hallmark nonsense and you know it."

You rolled your eyes. "Oh please. You're not as grumpy as you pretend to be."

He felt a twinge of surprise at the unexpected tease. Nobody ever called him on his bluff.

You chuckled softly and took a step closer, peering up at him with a smile. "You know, Logan, I've seen you around the neighborhood. You're always scowling and growling at people. But I can tell. You're not really mad, you're just lonely."

He blinked, taken aback by your perceptiveness. No one ever saw through him like this before.

"I am not lonely," he said, trying to keep his cool. But the words came out more forcefully than he intended, betraying his true feelings. He felt exposed, like you were holding up a mirror to his deepest fears.

You didn't even bother to call him out on the lie. Instead, you just held up the plate of cookies again. "Have a cookie, Mr. Scrooge," you said with a small laugh.

He glowered at you, tempted to slam the door in your face. But there was something in your eyes that he couldn't ignore. It was understanding, or compassion, or maybe a bit of both.

For once, he didn't feel the urge to push you away.

He reached out and grabbed a cookie from the plate. "These better be good," he grumbled.

"Oh, they are," you said, a note of triumph in your voice. Good. You knew he couldn't resist homemade cookies.

He took a bite and found himself surprised. They were good. Really good. Like, the best cookies he had ever eaten.

"These are actually edible," he said grudgingly, trying to keep up his grumpy act.

You just laughed. "Told you."

There was a moment of silence as he finished his cookie. He could feel your eyes on him, watching him closely. As if you were studying him, like he was a curious specimen or a rare animal.

It bothered him, but not as much as it should have. There was something about the way you looked at him…

He cleared his throat, trying to break the spell. He needed to get rid of you before things got out of hand. "Alright, that's enough. Go bother someone else."

But you just laughed again. "Oh, come on, Logan. I know you don't mean that. You like me around."

Logan bristled, feeling stung by your words. He wasn't used to someone seeing through him like this.

"You don't know what you're talking about," he said gruffly. "I don't need company."

But you didn't even flinch. "You're lonely," you said gently, your eyes full of compassion. "And it's okay to admit it."

He felt a pang of vulnerability. Was he really that obvious? Had he really been that lonely for so long, and no one had noticed?

He tried to push down the feeling, tried to cling to his anger. But he couldn't do it. Something about you just made him feel… vulnerable.

"I don't need your pity," he grumbled, looking away.

"It's not pity," you said, stepping closer. "It's just the truth. You need someone to talk to, someone to comfort you."

His eyes flicked to your face, watching your expression closely. You were so sincere, so open. It was like you had no idea what a danger he could be.

"You don't know what you're getting into," he said gruffly. "You don't want to get involved with me."

"Why not?" you asked, tilting your head to the side.

He had to admire your courage. Most people would have run away by now, intimidated by his gruff manner. But not you. You just smiled at him, like he was some kind of puzzle you were determined to solve.

"I'm not a good person," he said gruffly, narrowing his eyes at you. "I've done things I'm not proud of."

"Don't we all?" you asked, your smile just growing wider. "Nobody's perfect, Mr. Logan. We all make mistakes."

He grunted, frustrated that you refused to take his warning seriously. "You don't understand," he said, his voice thick with warning. "I've done things that would make your skin crawl. If you knew the real me, you'd run away screaming."

"Is that right?" you said, still smiling. He found himself almost mesmerized by the sight. How could you be so cheerful when he was trying so hard to scare you away?

He nodded once, his expression grave. "It's true."

You tilted your head, still smiling. "And yet, I'm still here."

He felt a pang of frustration. Why were you so damn stubborn? Didn't you understand the danger you were in?

"You're a fool," he grumbled. "You're not scared of me at all, are you?"

"Not even a little bit," you said, your smile growing even wider. "You think you're tough, but I can see the real you underneath all that bluster."

He felt a pang of surprise, followed by a surge of irritation. How dare you psychoanalyze him like this? Who did you think you were?

As the conversation went on, you suddenly shivered, pulling your jacket tighter around you.

Logan noticed the movement and raised an eyebrow. "You cold?" he grumbled.

You nodded, your breath coming out in a visible cloud in the cold air. You had been outside for too long.

Logan grunted, a flicker of concern in his eyes. "Why the hell didn't you say something?" he said gruffly.

You just shrugged, trying to play it off. "I didn't want to bother you."

He grunted. Typical. You were too nice for your own good.

"Come inside," he said gruffly. "You're gonna catch your death out here."

You seemed surprised. "Are you sure?"

He grunted again. "Just come in before you freeze to death, for fucks sake."

He stepped aside, letting you into his house. As you moved past him, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being drawn in by your infectious warmth.

You looked around the interior of his house with interest. It was just as you had expected – sparse and utilitarian, with few personal touches. He clearly wasn't one for decorating.

He watched you silently as you looked around, wondering what you were thinking. You seemed so out of place in his home, surrounded by his rough edges and lack of comforts.

"It's cozy," you said, trying to make conversation.

He grunted. "Don't lie. It's a dump."

He gestured to the old couch. "Sit down before you freeze. I'll make some coffee."

You walked over to the couch and sat down, feeling the cushions sag under your weight. The old fabric was worn smooth, like it had been used every day for decades.

He disappeared into the kitchen, leaving you alone in the living room. You looked around, feeling a pang of pity for him. It was obvious that he didn't have guests often, if ever.

As you looked around, you noticed something strange. There was no Christmas tree.

Sure, Logan wasn't exactly a festive person, but it seemed odd that he didn't even have a small tree or a few decorations. It seemed like the kind of thing you would expect a lonely old man to have, just to pretend there was at least a little holiday spirit in the house.

You bit your lip, feeling a pang of sadness. He was lonelier than you had realized. A small Christmas tree in the corner wouldn't have made much difference, but it would have been something, at least.

You heard the sound of footsteps, and turned to see him walking back into the room with two mugs of coffee in hand.

"Here," he said gruffly, handing you one of the mugs. The coffee was black and steaming hot.

You thanked him, wrapping your hands around the mug to warm them. He sat down in the armchair across from the couch and sipped his own coffee, watching you closely.

"So," he said after a moment. "What's a pretty young thing like you doing bringing cookies to a grumpy old bastard like me?"

You smiled, feeling oddly comfortable with him despite his gruff exterior. "Just spreading some holiday cheer," you said. "Everybody deserves a smile and a cookie this time of year."

He snorted, rolling his eyes. "You're a real bleeding heart, aren't you?"

But there was no malice in his voice. If anything, he almost sounded fond.

You chuckled at his gruffness. Despite his tough exterior, you could tell he wasn't really that angry. He was just surprised by your kindness, and maybe a little uncomfortable with it.

"It's just a few cookies," you said, taking a sip of coffee. "Not a big deal."

"No, it is a big deal," he said, his tone growing more serious. "People don't just do nice things for no reason."

He looked at you closely, his gaze intense. "What's your angle, kid? What do you want from me?"

You laughed, surprised by his bluntness. "I don't want anything," you said, shaking your head. "I just wanted to be nice. It's Christmas, after all."

He grunted, still looking suspicious. "You're telling me you just wandered over here, knocked on my door, and gave me cookies because you're just that nice?"

As he kept watching you, you suddenly found yourself feeling self-conscious. Those intense eyes were so sharp and perceptive, like he could see right through you.

You felt your cheeks growing warm and you started fidgeting with the cuffs of your sleeves. You looked around the room, trying to avoid his gaze, before finally looking out the window at your own house across the street.

As you glanced out the window, you saw that there was a small crowd of people on your front porch. Most of them were laughing and talking, but one figure stood out from the rest.

Your ex-boyfriend was standing on your front porch.

You felt a pang of nausea as you saw him. He was the last person you wanted to see right now, especially on Christmas.

When Logan saw your expression he leaned forward, a note of concern creeping into his voice. "What's going on over there? Who is that?"

You took a deep breath, trying to control your emotions. "It's my ex," you said softly.

Logan frowned, his eyes narrowing. "And why is he at your house?" he asked gruffly.

You bit your lip, feeling conflicted. "My family is having a little Christmas party," you explained. "He's friends with my brother, so he's invited too. I was hoping to avoid him, but…"

He grunted, understanding what you were getting at. "He's already making a scene."

He didn't need to ask any more questions. He could see the situation clearly enough from your expression. It was written all over your face. You were clearly uncomfortable and unhappy having him here.

"What does it look like?" he said gruffly, slipping on the jacket. "I'm coming with you."

"B-but everyone knows you're the grumpy neighbor Mr. Logan…" you stuttered, "And… And my parents, what will they think if I bring you in, ten times my age. Mr. Logan I-"

He rolled his eyes as he put on his shoes. "Who cares what they think? You need someone to drive that idiot away, and I'm volunteering. Now let's go."

You bit your lip, feeling conflicted. On one hand, you knew your parents would absolutely lose it if you brought home an old man like Logan. But on the other hand, you really didn't want to spend any more time with your ex than necessary.

Finally you nodded, making up your mind. "Alright," you said. "But I hope you're ready for my family to be nosy as hell."

He grunted and stood up, adjusting his shirt. "I can handle nosy. I've been called a few things a lot worse than that in my life."

He gestured to the door. "Lead the way, kid."

As you walked outside, the streets only lit up by the street lights you spoke, "Mr. Logan what are you gonna say if they ask what you are doing with me… Are you gonna say we are-"

He grunted, thinking for a moment. He knew your family would start asking questions the moment they saw him.

"We'll say I'm your boyfriend," he said, his tone firm. "That'll shut them up real quick."

He shrugged, a hint of a smile crossing his face. "Hey, they don't know that. It'll be plenty believable. I mean, look at me."

He gestured to himself, still looking faintly amused. "I'm a catch, right?"

You raised an eyebrow, trying to keep a straight face. "Oh, of course. A silver fox, and probably three times my age… the perfect young woman's boyfriend," you said dryly.

He chuckled at your sarcastic tone. "Hey, I'll have you know I'm aging like a fine wine," he grumbled. "Besides, it doesn't need to be that convincing. We just need a cover story that'll get rid of your little pest problem."

As you crossed the street, you felt a flicker of nervousness. You knew that everyone would notice the two of you walking up to your house together. You could practically see the questions forming on their lips already.

But Logan walked beside you, his steps confident and unhurried. He was unbothered by the stares from your family and friends.

As you and Logan approached, there was a sudden rush of noise as everyone turned to look at you both. Several people were drinking, and a couple others were already pretty buzzed. Your parents were among them, and their eyes widened as they saw the grumpy old man walking at your side.

Your mom rushed forward, practically elbowing her way through the crowd. She came up to you with a strained smile.

"Sweetie, you told me you were just delivering cookies," she said, her eyes darting to Logan. "What is he doing here?"

You felt a sudden stab of guilt under her glare. You had told her a little white lie, saying you were only taking him some Christmas goodies. You swallowed, suddenly feeling very young and very stupid.

Logan, however, seemed unbothered by her questioning gaze. He just looked at her with a bored expression, his hands in his pockets.

"Mom, be nice he is our neighbor!"

Your mom narrowed her eyes at Logan. "Neighbor or not, I don't want some strange old man on my property without a good reason."

She looked between you and him, her expression suspicious. "And why, exactly, are you here, Logan?"

Logan raised an eyebrow, unintimidated by her questioning. "Can't a man visit his girlfriend's house on Christmas?" he said gruffly.

Your mom sputtered, completely taken aback by his blunt answer.

"Your- your girlfriend?" she repeated, her face reddening. She looked around wildly, as if looking for some hidden cameras watching her reaction.

Everyone else was watching intently, clearly interested in the conversation. Your ex boyfriend, off in the corner, looked particularly outraged.

Your face felt hot, and you knew your cheeks must be bright red right now. "Oh my God," you muttered under your breath.

Logan chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. "That's right," he said gruffly. "We've been seeing each other for a few months now."

Your mom was lost for words. Everyone else was silent as well, stunned by the revelation. Even your ex boyfriend looked baffled, his expression a mixture of disbelief and horror.

"He's an old neighbor honey!"

"He's handsome, charming, and he has a stable job and income," you countered, trying to sell the charade. You felt bad lying to your mom, but this was better than dealing with your ex again.

Logan looked slightly smug at your compliment, enjoying the shocked expressions on everyone's faces.

"But he's old enough to be your father!" your mom said, still incredulous.

You could practically see the gears turning in her head as she tried to come to terms with this new development.

"Age is just a number," Logan said bluntly, unconcerned with her objections. "Besides, I look good for my age, don't I?"

He flexed his right bicep, showing off his muscular forearm.

Your mom's eyes nearly bugged out of her head as he flexed his arm, and your dad quickly stepped in before she did something drastic like collapse.

"Alright, alright," he said, laying a calming hand on her shoulder. He turned to look at Logan, a wary look on his face.

"Now, I don't have any objection to you as a man, Logan," he said carefully, choosing his words. "But I have to admit I'm a little confused about why you'd want to date my daughter. No offense to her, but there's a large age difference between you two."

Logan shrugged, unconcerned. "What can I say? I've got a thing for younger women. And she's a sweetheart, isn't she? Who could resist that smile?"

He grinned at you, and you felt a pang of gratitude. He was really selling the whole relationship thing.

Your dad looked between the two of you, clearly suspicious but not knowing what else to say. Your mom was still just gaping at the two of you.

Finally, you ex spoke up from across the room. "Excuse me," he said, looking furious, "Can I speak to you for a minute?"

You felt a pang of dread as you heard your ex's voice. You knew it was only a matter of time before he confronted you.

Reluctantly, you sighed and nodded. "Yeah, sure. We can talk."

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

Part 1 Part 2

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machveil · 21 hours

Note

Today's thought: Konig is the perfect height and build to carry you to bed when you're drowsy. Easily lifts you into his arms, carries you like a princess or with your head resting against his chest or in the crook of his neck. Hands firm but not wandering (as much as he (and you) might want them to). A rapid heartbeat underneath your ear because you're so close to him, though he doesnt stumble or trip, never with his precious sweetie in his arms! Just don't think about how if you're resting your face in the crook of his neck, it would be so easy to turn your head slightly, nose your way under that veil of his, and press some thankful kisses to his neck and jawline, getting to feel the full body blush make its way up his torso to his face that still isn't super visible, small mercy for him that it is -🐸

I am definitely not thinking about the latter half of that prompt🤍✨

Gute Nacht

König’s a big, strong man - it doesn’t matter how tall you are or how much you weigh, that could never stop him from carrying you to bed, Maus CW: mention of a size kink (nondescript)

König has been serving since he volunteered at seventeen - ever since then he’s been building hard muscles wrapped in a soft layer of fat. he’s strong and capable, careful and gentle with you

whether you have lethargic bouts, chronic fatigue, or you’re simply tired at the end of the day, König will scoop you up in his arms. he’s capable, and his trained eyes that are always glued to you know when you need to retire to bed - especially when you start nodding off, eyes half lidded with exhaustion

carefully picking you up - treating you as if you’re glass - he’ll hold you to his chest. soft spoken words, his voice always drips with admiration, “It’s time for bed, Mach deine Augen zu, Liebling.”

he’s warm - a behemoth of a man like him generates a healthy amount of heat, focused as he navigates towards your room. he always looks forward to tucking you in, wether you want him to or try to do it yourself, he’ll always pull for covers up over you

he can’t help his mind from wandering, he’s naturally larger than most. it doesn’t matter how you’re built compared to him - short or tall, no matter your weight, König is no doubt larger than you. he’s big, not just in terms of height. even if you tower over his 6’10”/~208cm height, König is wrapped in well built muscles

lest you forget he was an insertion specialist, a human battering ram, before he became a sniper, König can remind you how strong he is. so, no matter your built, König is bigger than you - that always gets him a little hot under the collar. but, when your eyes are fluttering shut, König manages to push those thoughts down

his sweet liebling, on the cusp of sleep, practically snuggled up in his hold. you know he’ll be rounding the corner to your room in a moment, gently lowering you to your mattress. maybe that’s why, bleary eyed and tired, you manage to press a kiss to the little bit of exposed skin you can reach

when König feels the peck to his collarbone he thinks nothing of it - an innocent little gesture. but when you nose his hood up a little, your lips trailing soft kisses up the column of his neck, the blush that follows suit is strong. his mama always said he got it from her, how his neck, cheeks, and ears would turn red when blushing

you can’t see his skin, hidden beneath his hood, but you know he’s turning red - you’d seen it happen before. how the warmth slowly spreads up from his chest, a redness creeping up his neck. his cheeks get rosy first before his whole face is engulfed in blush, his ears faring no better, “Ah— liebling—”

“Jus’ thanking you.”, you mumble, his hood riding up a little as your nose brushes against it, lips peppering kisses along his skin, “Always carryin’ me.”

he’s thankful you can’t see how he’s burning up, the dopey smile you caused, how he’s biting his lip at your sweet words. his grip on you gets a little firmer as he nudges your bedroom door open. but, after he lowers you down, rests you against your mattress, he can’t help but pull his hood up. a kiss pressed to your forehead before he’s tucking you in, gentle affection as you drift off

“Gute nacht, sleep well, Maus.”, he murmurs, voice quiet as you finally fall asleep

#konig #könig #könig cod #könig call of duty #konig x reader #konig x you #könig x reader #könig x you #könig headcanons #cod #cod thoughts #call of duty

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idkwhatimdoinghere1655 · 21 hours

Text

So Special - Lando Norris

<word count - 5350> |part 1 - Nerd|part 2 - Rumours|

The weekend had gone by, and you and Lando had spent your time doing very different things. He had been productive, spending his two days in the garage with his dad, perfecting your DT project. He couldn't care less that you had told him not to finish it.

He had said he would do it, and now he was damned sure that it would be the best one in the class. Lando and his dad had come up with some genius ideas, even if it was only meant to be a simple little wood-work task.

It would probably be quite obvious that you hadn't done it in the workshop, but Lando had a feeling that you wouldn't care. Also with the help of his dad, Lando had gotten his homework rattled out within an hour.

It wasn't quite the same as having you there to help him through it, since your way of teaching him was a lot better than his dad's, but it was better than nothing, that was for sure.

You, on the other hand, had spent your weekend holed up in your bedroom, not wanting to come out for anyone or anything. Your parents had offered to take you out to any restaurant of your choosing, go somewhere with your friends, anything.

But, you had declined all of their suggestions. You simply didn't feel like going anywhere. All you could think about was how much you were dreading going to school on Monday, how much you didn't want to see anyone in any of your classes.

It genuinely seemed like your worst nightmare at the moment, but you still had to go in. The minutes ticked by slowly over the weekend, every single one heightening the anxiety of being back in school.

The most likely scenario was that people would have forgotten it by now and moved onto something else, but the feeling that that wasn't the case was overwhelming, crippling and soul-destroying.

Even doing your maths homework felt near on impossible. A task that would normally only take you a few minutes took you nearly 2 hours, since trying to work with the numbers made nervousness swirl in your stomach.

The ever present thought was Lando. If anything, you figured he had it the worst out of all of this. His friends mocked and ridiculed him at any chance they got, he couldn't even get the bus anymore without throwing in the towel and getting off early, and you didn't want to be around him anymore.

Guilt mixed into the cesspool of emotions that you were feeling, but the pure fear of being in school and getting the mick taken out of you overshadowed that. You just wanted to get your education and run as far away from that damned place as you could.

Once Monday morning had rolled around, you reluctantly got onto the bus, not wanting to walk in the frosty weather. Lando's mum would've given you a ride, but you didn't want to be seen getting out of his car. Now that would be pure social suicide.

On the bus, you saw that Lando wasn't there, which made things easier. But, you sure as hell weren't sitting at the back near his friends. You shuffled onto a seat next to some random kids in a year below you, but you'd much rather do that than be subjected to Lando's friends.

School was relatively empty when you got there, most people going to sit in the canteen before the bell went for their first lessons. You made a beeline to the lockers, hoping that no one would be there.

Thankfully, there wasn't a soul in sight as you quickly punched the code into Lando's locker. You knew the code since you'd had to leave his homework in there a few times in the past. You pulled his jumper out of your bag and stuffed it in. On the top, you placed a small note of gratitude, before closing the locker back up and going over to yours to put in some of your textbooks.

To your surprise, your locker wasn't empty like you thought it would be. Inside was a small, plastic bag. Just like you had put on Lando's jumper, whoever had been in your locker had put a note on top of it. 'I promised I'd get this finished, and I am a man of my word'.

You knew that handwriting off by heart, since it was one you often plagiarised. Opening the bag, you saw your fully finished, absolutely faultless DT woodwork project. You were baffled by how clean the cuts and joints were, and it was surely going to get you the best mark you had ever gotten in DT.

The first genuine smile that you had cracked in days grew across your face, truly touched by the gesture. You had told him not to bother, that you'd do it yourself, even if you really didn't want to. "I did it right, yeah?" a voice suddenly broke you out of your small bout of happiness.

Lando was leant against his locker, hands in his pockets as he looked at you. His face was tired, it didn't have the life to it as it used to. His eyes were equally as lethargic, no longer holding that cheeky spark that they always had. It was like the colour had dulled out, leaving them more greyed over than blue.

"Yeah, you did. It's great, thanks," you mustered up a small smile, barely even a fraction of the one you had earlier. For some reason, your brain still couldn't make you look him in the eyes as you talked to him.

"Anytime," he replied, his gaze fixed on your side profile. He was thinking the same about your appearance too, your face had sunken and your eyes weren't as bright as he remembered them being.

"I don't think anyone's going to say anything, you know..." he mumbled, half hoping you'd heard him, half hoping you hadn't. The words sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than he was trying to convince you, since he wanted to believe that they were true.

He didn't want to see you upset anymore, he didn't want to have to distance himself from you, he didn't want to have to change his entire routine. All he wanted was his life right back to the way it was.

The life when you two were friends, where he'd get to spend time with you. The life where he got to be Lando Norris, the cocky little shit to the rest of the year, but a softie for you. The life where everything was perfect again.

"I don't think it's that easy, Lando," you said, your eyes still glued to your feet as you avoided eye contact with him. Even the sound of his name on your lips made his heart flutter uncontrollably. He wanted to hear more of it, he wanted to hear it every goddamn day of his life if you'd let him.

"Please? Can we just... just try to ignore it and still be friends? I just want to be your friend again, I mi-" he started to plead, the desperation evident in his tone. His face fell as he was cut off, knowing that both of you were in deep shit before the day had even started.

"You what, Lando? Bit of trouble in paradise for our most prolific love birds?" some random guy in your year interrupted him, standing beside Lando. He had never seen fear in a person's features like he did on yours in that very moment.

You didn't think you could handle hearing another word of it, so you dashed past the both of them and down the hall, trying not to let the tears fall down your cheeks. He hadn't even said anything overly hurtful, but the panic of what he could have said had set in.

"Not gonna run after your girlfriend, Lando?" he further teased, and Lando could feel his fists clenching at his sides, his knuckles turning white due to how hard he was holding them. He knew that a comment like that wouldn't have normally set you off, but it just showed how bad the situation had gotten.

"Go fuck yourself," he spat, walking to the canteen and sitting down on a table away from his friends. They had seen him come in, but he didn't care. They were the last people he wanted to talk to.

For the first time in his life, he was desperate to get to lessons and have some much wanted distraction from everything that was going on. As soon as the bell had gone, he jumped out of his seat and took the shortest route that he could think of to the science labs for biology.

Not to his shock, you were already sat in your seat, hunched over your textbook and exercise book. Lando took his seat, a few down from yours on the long, wooden benches. The start of the lesson was silent to begin with, before you were all assigned to do some questions with the people sat around you.

Lando tried to keep focused on the questions, but he couldn't help but hear his own name coming from your side of the table. As he discretely watched from the side, he saw as your head snapped up to the girl next to you. Lilly.

Goddamnit, of course it had to be Lilly. The one girl who Lando was for sure certain was desperate for him. "Sorry?" you said, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. You hadn't been listening to a word she was saying, so you had to do a double take now that she was suddenly talking about Lando.

"You spent the weekend with Lando, no? Since he's your boyfriend and all, I assumed what I heard was true," she said, her voice laced with a sickly sweet venom. The jealousy she felt was obvious, and it did give you a slightly masochistic sense of satisfaction.

"No," you curtly answered with a small shake of the head, before returning to answering the questions by yourself. Lando couldn't see Lilly's face since she was looking at you, with her blinding mop of bleached blonde hair being the only thing he could see.

"What? So it's not true?" she pressed, clearly looking for a reaction that you weren't willing to give her.

"No, no it's not," you declined again, your leg bouncing up and down nervously. Lando grinned to himself, proud of you for sticking up for yourself and not giving in. He just hoped you had the willpower to carry on being as strong as you were, since he knew how sensitive you were at the minute.

"So the two of you didn't spend this weekend, practically locked in his parent's house by the lake while the bed was creaking-"

"Right that's enough." you said, your voice firm and leaving no room for disagreement. Lilly looked a tiny bit shook by your defiance, but Lando was sat there, wide-eyed. He never told anyone about the house by the lake apart from Max, and the likelihood of him telling Lilly of all people was slim to none.

But he was more taken aback and impressed by your steadfastness. He had expected you to be in tears by this point, but it was a more than pleasant surprise. He still couldn't see Lilly's face, but he could imagine the annoying pout as her lips were pursed together.

"I don't know who you heard that from, but that is complete and utter bullshit. I spent my weekend at home. As for Lando? I couldn't really give a shit, but he wasn't with me. Much to your dismay, he wasn't with you either," you carried on, and your conversation had pricked up some of your class' listening ears.

Lilly looked like you had just slapped her, her mouth agape and eyes wide as she looked at you. "I... you..." she stuttered, unsure of how to respond. As much as Lando was glad that you were sticking up for yourself, he was also feeling a slight stabbing pain in his chest.

You 'couldn't really give a shit'. The worst part was that he couldn't tell if you meant it or not. He doubted that you did, but there was always the small question of what if? What if you had meant it?

If he was being honest, the thought of you not caring scared the life out of him. It wasn't something that he wanted to believe, not at all. He knew that the two of you weren't on the best terms, not by either of your faults but you still weren't friends, yet that didn't warrant you not caring at all, right?

The one person whose opinion he idolised, the one person who he wanted to see everyday, the one person who he could be himself around didn't care. It simply didn't register in his mind that that was even possible.

By the time Lando had snapped out of his thoughts, the teacher had resumed his lesson and you and Lilly were sat in silence, a scowl still plastered on her face. The rest of the lesson wasn't focused on biology, at least not for Lando.

Both of you left as quickly as you could and went to your favourite respective places to spend your break times. Lando didn't know where you'd be this time, since you moved just about every five minutes.

He knew that your little outburst would get back to his friends by the end of the break, and he didn't want to be there when they inevitably found out. He couldn't figure out what they'd say to him or how they'd react, but he knew there would be more teasing.

He was upset enough as it was, and he didn't need them to make it worse. Lando stayed away from the canteen, just aimlessly wandering through the near-empty halls. As he approached the lockers on his third lap of the school, his ears picked up the sounds of a familiar voice.

"You think you're so special, don't you?" she said, and he could have sworn that all he could see was red. Lilly. And there was no doubts in his mind over who she was talking to.

"I bet you're loving all of this attention, aren't you? You probably started these rumours yourself, didn't you?" Lilly carried on, Lando staying behind the wall while he listened to her onslaught. He hadn't seen you, but he could picture the look on your face.

"Why the hell would I make up such awful things about myself? I'm not an attention seeker like you, I don't want this happening," you retorted, a smirk growing on Lando's face as he heard you. He was glad you weren't running off and crying anymore, but he assumed you were bottling it all up as a way of coping.

"Please, you're just annoyed that Lando would never actually date you, aren't you?" she said, and you were both gobsmacked. You knew that that was why she was getting pissy with you, but you didn't think she'd spell it out point blank.

"What, like he'd date you either?" you shot back, stunning Lilly into silence. Initially, she was right to assume that her saying all of these things would reduce you to tears, but today you had built a shell around you - one that almost seemed impenetrable.

But, hidden beneath the tough exterior and firm words, Lando could hear the faintest of a wobble in your voice. Lilly wouldn't pick up on it, but he had. Maybe it was just because he knew you so well already, or maybe it was just because he liked you so damn much that he noticed all of the tiniest little things about you.

"Please, I think anyone would rather date me over you," she said after a few moments, the come back taking longer for her to think up than she would have liked. You nearly laughed in her face, nearly told her what a massive bitch she was and how most people would rather be dead than date her.

However, someone swooped in. "I know I wouldn't."

"Oh, hey Lando, we were just talking about you," Lilly instantly stepped in, her voice suddenly turning nauseatingly sacchariferous. She stepped closer to him, batting her false eyelashes at him as if it would put him under her spell.

"Yeah, I heard." he said, his voice betraying none of his emotions. Lilly could tell that something was up with him, but she chose to ignore it and carry on trying to woo him.

"I was just saying how-"

"I heard it. And I don't think you have any right to say any of that about Y/N. She is a much better person than you, and you're stupid to think she'd make those rumours about us. That's something you'd do. Also, I'll reiterate. I would rather date her than you any day of the week." he said, not missing a beat between sentences.

Lilly stayed quiet, that familiar scowl finding its place back on her face. "Fine, yeah, whatever," she scoffed, rolling her eyes as she stormed away from you.

You let out a breath that you hadn't realised you had been holding, finally feeling the weight of the day pressing down on you. You had done so well to keep it all bottled up as you stood up for yourself, but now it felt like the adrenaline had worn off and your resolve was crumbling.

Once she had gone, Lando turned to you and saw the tears in your eyes. "Hey, no, don't..." he softly said, approaching you. He was unsure whether he was allowed to hug you or touch you or if he was supposed to just leave you alone to cry.

He contemplated it, but he couldn't force himself to walk away. You had let all of the fear and the upset of the weekend and the past couple of hours to build up, and now it was finally too heavy for you to hold up.

"Can I... can I please just..." he started, not knowing how to ask the question. He didn't want to outright ask if he could hold you, but he didn't know what else to say. Instead, he hovered his arms awkwardly around you as if he was gesturing at hugging you.

"Mhm," you hummed, your arms going around his neck as his wrapped around your waist. It was nice to be close to you again, to have you again. He also felt a rush of affection. He didn't know how long to hold the hug, how tightly to hold you, where to put his head.

Did he rest it on top of yours? Bury it in the crook of your neck? Just... keep it there?

Despite his inner turmoil, his instincts took his hand up the the back of your head, fingers tangling in the strands of hair. "Please don't cry, c'mon, it's OK," he mumbled, hating the way you shook with silent sobs in his arms.

He knew you had kept your emotions all bundled up inside all day, but he couldn't handle you being so upset. "I'm sorry..." you mumbled, but he couldn't make out the words as they were muffled by his chest.

"Hm? What did you say?" he gently asked, looking down at you as you looked up at him. It had just dawned on him how close you were, and how easy it would be just to lean down and kiss you like he- no, no. Not the time. Not yet, at least.

"I said I'm sorry," you repeated, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"Sorry for what?"

"I'm sorry for... avoiding you, not being your friend, being a complete and utter bitch to you, and-" you started to ramble, more tears falling from your eyes.

"Hey, no, no, I won't hear it. None of this is your fault, absolutely none of it. OK?" he reassured you, needing you to know that you hadn't done anything wrong. All you did was nod, before hugging him tighter and resting your head back on his chest.

His white button up was slightly see through with tears, but he'd be able to hide it with his blazer no problem. "Shh, please don't cry," he carried on trying to soothe you, his mind going through thousands of other things he wanted to say.

'You're too pretty to cry...' was the first thing that came to the forefront of his brain, but that was too much too soon. He felt your shudders against him stilling as you opted to just stand there in his embrace. He wasn't complaining, he would stay like that for as long as you'd let him.

From down the hall, he could hear the faint pattering of footsteps. Lando didn't want to say anything, he just wanted to let them walk by and they'd likely ignore the two of you. Once you heard it too, you pushed back from him so that there was a sizeable gap between you both.

He was disappointed, to say the least, but he understood your trepidation. It was a good job that you had stepped away, since the person that walked by was one of Lilly's friends. She was probably already floating around, spreading as many lies as her single-celled brain could muster.

"I'll... see you later, yeah?" you weakly smiled, checking the time and seeing that it was nearly time for your next class.

"Yeah, course. You getting the bus or do you need a ride?" he asked, confident that his mum would happily pick you up down the road and take you home.

"A ride would be nice," you nodded, and he was slightly taken aback by the fact that you hadn't argued with him. You were as stubborn as the day was long, but he was happy you had relented quickly on this occasion.

"You just start walking home and we'll find you somewhere along the road," he told you and you nodded.

"Sounds good," you lightly chuckled, the sound welcome to his ears. He hadn't heard any semblance of a laugh from you in nearly a week, and he was unbelievably grateful that he had gotten to hear it again.

"See ya," he smiled as you walked away, a wave of contentedness washing over him. Even if it has come as a result of some of the toughest days of both your life and his, he had gotten to hug you. To actually hug you, to touch you more than your fingers just brushing together when you handed something to each other.

It was what he had wanted, and he had finally gotten it. The price was hefty, but he had gotten it nonetheless. Now, he was counting down the seconds until he'd get to drive you home, spend more time with you, talk to you again.

The rest of the day wasn't actually too bad. Just the odd comment or two, but it was nothing compared to what the pair of you had been getting over the past few days. Lando actually found a few of them quite funny, when he thought about it.

"Hey Norris, your girlfriend is feisty, eh? Bet that makes her fun for you," one of the boys in your year said, as if it was meant to hurt or upset him. Instead he just laughed, shaking his head.

"Feisty? Very," was all he could get out before walking away to get to his next lesson. Lando had never been so prudent with getting to his lessons, but he found that it was the best way to spend his time.

Hour after hour went by, and before he knew it, Lando was practically running out of the front doors of the school and towards his mum's car. She was parked in the same spot that she always was, and he hopped in the back in preparation for you to get in too.

"Why are you sitting back there?" she asked, looking at him in the rear view mirror.

"We're picking Y/N up down the road," he said, leaning over the center console to turn on the heated seats on your side, as well as leaving his jumper from the day on your seat. He had found the one that you had returned to him in his locker, but he wanted you to have the one he had already worn.

There was something strangely intimate about you wearing his jumpers as a source of warmth and comfort, but he wasn't opposed to it. He knew that a lot of girls stole their boyfriend's hoodies, but this wasn't quite that scenario.

He wanted it to be, there was no doubt about that, but this made him feel like you two were a few steps closer to that. You were always happy to wear his jumpers, but he sometimes wished you wouldn't return then just so that he could ask for them back. Not that he wanted them back. If you wanted them, they were all yours.

"Oh are we now?" she smirked, finding her son's actions towards you as endearing as hell. He was shaping up to be the boy she wanted to raise, and she was so proud of him. She could tell his crush on you was definitely developing, and the distance between you clearly made him want you more.

"Yeah, we are," he said, leaving no room for her to say no. Well, she wouldn't have said no since it was cold and she didn't want you walking such a distance in such cold temperatures.

"Does she know we're taking her home or have you just decided?"

"I asked if she wanted a ride and she said yes, so we're picking her up," he reiterated, plugging his seat belt into the socket and getting comfortable against the leather of the seats.

"OK, OK," she chuckled, shaking her head. Igniting the engine, Lando's mum pulled away from her parking spot and started driving down the road, looking out for you. As she glanced at the rear-view mirror, she could see Lando's eyes glued to the window, searching for you on the pavement.

She knew he had seen him by the way his eyes lit up and a small smile crept its way across his lips. Pulling up on the pavement, she rolled the passenger side window down as she called out to you. "Your chauffeur awaits,"

Clambering in the passenger side, you saw Lando's jumper on your chair, instantly taking your blazer off and replacing it with the garment. It was so much warmer than your coat, and you felt so much more comfortable in it too.

You didn't fail to notice the heat that emanated from the seat as well, the added care making butterflies spark in your stomach. "You really don't have to go to the effort of picking me up, you know." you said, feeling slightly bad that she was going out of her way to take you home.

"Well it was Lando's idea. He just told me we were picking you up and here we are," she told you, and you could sense the blush that coated Lando's cheeks.

"Mum c'mon, don't..." he mumbled, crossing his arms and avoiding her gaze in the mirror. He had a slight pout on his face, and it reminded her of when he didn't get what he wanted when he was little. He was always adorable.

You just giggled at him, and it was music to his ears. Seeing you warm and cozy in his hoodie was definitely something he wanted more of, and he wasn't sure how much more waiting he could do before he cracked and acted on his impulses.

Yet, he didn't know what he'd do if you rejected him, or said you just wanted to be friends. He never wanted to be just friends with you, he wanted it all with you. He wanted you to be his first real girlfriend, the one you can never really forget.

And he could only hope that you wanted the same from him. His gut feeling told him that it was obvious that you were feeling the same. Why else would you hug him, accept a ride home from him, wear his jumpers?

He didn't care, all he did care about was the fact that his heart was dead set on the notion that you did like him back, but his head was throwing doubts at him.

After a short drive and light conversation, you pulled up outside of your house. Instead of his mum this time, Lando wanted to be the one who walked you to your door. Getting out of his seat and taking a few steps forward to your door, he opened it forward and stood to the side.

Grabbing your bag out of the footwell, Lando carried it to your front door as you walked together. "Do you think we could go to the library tomorrow at second break? I tried to use the textbook to do the biology, but I really couldn't understand. Plus, I think my knowledge of female anatomy could really be helped out by you," he joked, and it was refreshing to see a bit of Lando's regular cheek coming to the fore.

If someone else had made the comment, you would've been pissed off, maybe a little upset. But not when it was Lando. His usual sense of humor was coming back, and it was like things were slowly returning back to normal.

"I think the textbook is a better help on that subject than I am," you countered, and Lando just smirked at you.

"Probably, but I'm much more of a hands-on learner. I'd like to have the real thing in front of me, you know?" he quipped, and you couldn't help but laugh at him. Now this was how things were meant to be. Just you two, laughing and enjoying being in each other's company.

"Sure," you agreed. Well, not to the hands on learning, just to teaching him the stuff he didn't understand. Your way of explaining things was good for Lando, it made him understand it a lot better than the teachers could.

"Can I get a hug before I go?" he tentatively asked, his brain working overtime to try and think of a joke to play it off in case you said no.

"Course you can," you said, your arms finding their place back around his neck as you leant into him. Just the feeling of you in his arms was enough to get his heart racing, and he felt the ever similar urge to just lean down and kiss you.

A soft smile found its way onto his mum's face - who was watching on from the car. Seeing the both of you so miserable was dreadful, so now seeing you making up and going back to the ordinary was more than enough for her.

There was no missing the fond, soft look in her son's eyes. It was nothing but pure affection and admiration, and it was clear how much he cared for you. She had never seen such adoration from him, and she should have guessed that it'd be you.

From the first time your name had ever slipped past his lips, she should've known just by the way he spoke about you. And now, there you were. The two of you, as you were meant to be.

You and Lando bade each other farewell, and he waited until you were safely inside the confines of your own home before walking back to his mum's car and getting in the passenger seat. "You two seem to have made up," she said, a slightly teasing tone to her voice.

"Yeah, something like that," he agreed, knowing it was more than that. Or so he hoped. If only he knew that things weren't that simple, that the rose tinted glasses would be ripped from his face just as quickly as they had been put there.

A/N - Hello lovely people! Chipping away at all the stuff I have half finished, which is part 2 to Hotel Girl, the requested part 2 of Ceilings, a little old Charlos thing, a Lando thing and Max's birthday special! I have to do one for old Maxie since we have the same birthday so we can roll our birthday specials into one. Have a great night, love y'all! 💖

tag list: @oh-austin @avni-sarai @cheriladycl01 @mariedeyes223 @daemyraforever56 @toriiez @robotchickenmerp

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lulujeno · 2 days

Text

crush culture — lee jeno ᡣ𐭩

summary : liking jeno was a mistake. kissing him didn't make it any better.

warnings : mentions of alcohol/drinking, kissing, cusswords, angst!! (this does not portray how the idols are irl, all the things here are written to match the song crush culture by conan gray!!)

wc : 6.3k

a/n : reader uses she/her pronouns !! jerk!jeno and bestfriend!mark :D thank u for 100+ followers ~~ cant believe i managed to pull out more than 5k words out of my ass >< my finals are currently happening so that's why i've been ia for soooo long :( i promise when i'm done i'll be clearing out both my drafts and requests ^^

Seeing your best friend, Belle, flirt with Jeno on your couch hit harder than you ever expected. The way they leaned into each other, laughter spilling from their lips like a sweet melody, made your stomach churn in a way that felt foreign and unwelcome. You had no right to feel this way, not when you knew about her crush on him. You had even agreed to be her wingman tonight, setting up this moment so she could finally have her chance. But somehow, along the way, you fell for him too, your heart weaving itself into a tapestry of unspoken feelings and bitter regret.

You should feel happy for her, after all her efforts to catch his attention, but the tight knot in your chest made it impossible to be anything but miserable. “It’s fine. Be happy. It’s your birthday, after all,” you whispered under your breath, trying to convince yourself. The words felt heavy, lacking the enthusiasm they were meant to carry. You exhaled a shaky breath before heading to the kitchen, desperate to escape the sight of them together.

The kitchen was warm, filled with the faint scent of alcohol and fruity punch hanging in the air like an unwelcoming fog. Mark stood by the counter, effortlessly mixing drinks with an ease that told you he’d done this a hundred times before. He glanced up as you entered, and a flicker of concern passed over his face when he caught sight of your downcast expression. He flicked his eyes toward the living room, and you knew he had noticed. Most of your friends knew about your crush on Jeno. It wasn’t something you talked about much, but the way your eyes lingered on him said enough.

“You okay?” Mark asked, his voice low, but the concern was clear, filling the space between you like a fragile glass.

You could only shrug, unsure of how to explain the whirlpool of emotions churning within your chest. It felt too complicated to articulate.

Without a word, he whipped up a drink, something colourful and sweet, and handed it to you. The condensation from the glass cooled your palm, but it did little to soothe the fire raging inside. The drink looked vibrant, but you could already tell it was just a disguise for the hollowness you felt.

“She’s kind of a bitch for doing that in front of you,” Mark muttered, glancing back at the couch, his fingers absentmindedly wiping down the counter. His words hung in the air like a lifebuoy tossed your way, and for a moment, it felt like they were offering you a chance to vent, to express all the things you were holding back. But you shook your head, pushing the thoughts down.

“Not really,” you sighed, taking a sip of the drink. The sweetness coated your tongue, but it tasted like nothing, a mere distraction. “I’m the bitch here. Liking the same guy as my best friend, after she tells me she likes him, that kind of thing breaks girl code.”

Mark furrowed his eyebrows, his confusion evident. “Girl code? Really?” He scoffed softly, shaking his head. “Come on, Belle falls for every guy who looks her way. Everyone knows that. Besides, you actually have a better shot, Jeno knows you, trusts you. You should go for it.”

You nearly choked on your drink, laughter bubbling up despite your mood. “Yeah, and get a reputation for stealing my friends’ crushes? No thanks, Mark. I’ll pass.” You handed him the empty glass, watching as he refilled it, his movements swift and practiced. The glint of the alcohol under the dim kitchen lights reflected how your emotions felt; messy and swirling, a whirlpool threatening to pull you under.

Mark sighed, exasperated. “It’s your party. Don’t let them get in your head. Go have some fun.” He handed you the new drink with a smile, but before you could take another sip, he added, “And don’t drink too much. You can’t handle it, and we both know it.”

But after two glasses, fun was the last thing you felt. The sight of Jeno and Belle still played in your mind, a vivid loop that made the alcohol churn uncomfortably in your stomach. You tried to find Belle in the crowded room, but she was nowhere to be seen. After asking around and realising Jeno wasn’t there either, the pit in your stomach grew deeper. You knew what that probably meant.

You found yourself wandering back to the kitchen, your mind foggy but determined to drown out the ache with another drink. Mark raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised to see you again. When you asked for yet another glass, he sighed deeply, a mixture of concern and frustration in his expression.

“This is your last one,” he warned, handing you the drink reluctantly. “You can’t handle much. I don’t want to have to carry you out of your own party.”

But Mark’s warning felt like a distant echo in your ears. By the time you were begging for a fourth drink, all caution had slipped away, and you couldn’t care less about the consequences. The music in the living room was thumping, laughter echoing like a cruel reminder of your current situation, and all you could feel was the weight of everything you couldn’t have — Jeno, your peace, the ability to not care.

“I already told you, no more drinks. You’re cut off,” Mark said, frustration clear in his voice. “I’ll get you some water instead.”

As he turned to open the fridge, you took your chance. The cold metal of a beer can brushed against your fingertips as you snatched it from the counter. You were so focused on your mission to drown out the pain that you didn’t notice Mark turning back toward you.

“y/n,” he snapped, his tone stern, “let go of the can. You’re going to regret this.”

You raised the can to your lips, but Mark was quicker. His hand reached out to grab it from you, and in the struggle, the can slipped from your grasp. The beer splashed everywhere — over your shirt, dripping down your arms, and pooling on the floor. The cold liquid seeped through your clothes, clinging to your skin, making you gasp at the sudden chill. Mark groaned, grabbing a napkin from the counter as you stood there, drenched, with a look of defiance still written across your face.

Undeterred, you tried to tilt the can toward your mouth, desperate to drink whatever was left inside, despite the mess. “Come on, y/n, you’re making this harder than it needs to be,” Mark sighed, exasperation laced in his tone as he managed to pry the can away for good this time.

The alcohol-soaked shirt clung to your body, the sticky sensation uncomfortable, but you were too far gone to care. The frustration bubbling inside wasn’t going to be soothed by just a drink anymore. You were angry, angry at Belle, at Jeno, at the fact that you had let yourself feel anything at all.

Before you could make another move, a strong hand wrapped around your wrist, prying you away from the counter. You froze, looking up into the familiar dark eyes you’d been avoiding all night — Jeno.

The world felt like it stopped as Jeno glanced from you to Mark, his brows furrowed in mild concern. “Help me out here, Jen. She’s had too much already, and she won’t listen to me,” Mark said, his voice weary but relieved that someone else could take over.

Jeno’s gaze softened as he looked down at your soaked shirt, a mixture of amusement and concern crossing his face. He let out a small sigh, his grip gentle but firm as he took the can from your hand and replaced it with a bottle of water. “You’re done with the drinks for tonight, okay?” he said softly, his voice holding the same care you’d heard earlier.

Before you could protest, Jeno wrapped his arm around you, guiding you out of the kitchen, away from the noise and the eyes of your curious friends. The walk to your room was a blur, but the warmth of his hand on your waist kept you grounded, even as the alcohol swirled in your system.

The sight of Belle sobbing into someone’s shoulder as you passed through the hallway barely registered in your hazy mind. You were too focused on the warmth of Jeno’s presence beside you, the way his touch lingered longer than necessary, as if he was anchoring you.

Once in your room, Jeno gently guided you to sit on the edge of your bed, his touch careful as if he was afraid you might fall over. His eyes roamed over your beer-soaked clothes, a soft chuckle escaping him. “You’re a mess,” he teased, though his voice held no judgment. If anything, it was laced with concern, the kind of worry that felt warm and comforting instead of scolding.

You glanced down at yourself, wincing as you finally took in the state of your shirt. The beer stains were obvious now, dark patches clinging to the fabric and sticking to your skin in an uncomfortable way. You grimaced, the sticky sensation making you feel even more self-conscious. The alcohol had dulled the sharpness of your embarrassment, but not entirely. A faint blush crept up your cheeks as you mumbled, “I should change…”

You attempted to push yourself off the bed, but your limbs were heavy, sluggish from the alcohol coursing through your system. Your balance wavered, and you nearly stumbled forward before Jeno’s hand gently pressed on your shoulder, keeping you steady.

Without saying a word, he crossed the room to your closet, rummaging through the clothes until he found one of your oversized t-shirts. He walked back to you with that same quiet focus, kneeling down to your level, holding the clean shirt in his hands. His gaze met yours for a moment, and something in his expression made your heart skip a beat.

“Here,” Jeno said softly, his voice just above a whisper. “Let me help.”

Your breath caught in your throat as his fingers reached for the hem of your beer-stained shirt. He moved slowly, giving you plenty of time to object, to stop him. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. The closeness of him, the way his eyes held nothing but tenderness. It was like the rest of the world had disappeared, leaving just the two of you in this charged, intimate bubble.

Jeno’s hands were careful as he lifted the fabric, peeling it away from your sticky skin with a precision that made your pulse quicken. The cool air hit you, contrasting the warmth of his touch. Every time his fingers brushed your arms, it sent shivers through you. It wasn’t overtly intimate, but the care he took in making sure you were comfortable made the moment feel far more meaningful than it should have.

Once your shirt was off, he handed you the fresh one, his eyes deliberately focused anywhere but your body, giving you the privacy to finish. You quickly pulled the oversized shirt over your head, feeling the soft cotton fabric glide down. Your cheeks burned, not from the alcohol, but from the way Jeno’s thoughtfulness had disarmed you, leaving your heart racing in its wake.

When you were finally settled in your clean shirt, Jeno took a step back, his hands awkwardly fumbling at his sides, unsure of what to do next. “Better?” he asked, his voice quiet but sincere.

You nodded, not trusting your voice. The warmth pooling in your chest wasn’t just from the remnants of alcohol, but from the way Jeno had cared for you, so gentle and attentive. The kindness in his actions made your emotions swirl even more intensely.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the air between you heavy with something unspoken. The room felt smaller with Jeno in it, the atmosphere charged with a new kind of tension. It wasn’t uncomfortable though. If anything, it felt safe. Like he was there to make sure you were okay, to take care of you, in a way that made your heart feel lighter despite the whirlwind of the night.

Jeno’s eyes flicked from the bed to you, a soft concern still lacing his gaze. “You should get some rest. It’s been a long night.”

You climbed under the covers, feeling the exhaustion settling into your bones now that the noise of the party was long behind you. As you laid down, Jeno lingered by your side for a moment, his hand briefly brushing your shoulder before he moved to sit at your desk. His presence filled the room, grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected.

“Jeno?” your voice came out as a soft murmur, barely loud enough to reach him, but he turned to you right away.

“Yeah?”

You hesitated for a moment before whispering, “Thanks… for everything.”

A small smile pulled at the corner of his lips, the soft light in your room making his features look even kinder than usual. “Get some sleep, y/n. I’ll be here if you need anything.”

You closed your eyes for a brief second, trying to process what was happening. Jeno was in your room. The Jeno. The one who was always surrounded by friends, admired by so many. The same Jeno your best friend had been talking about for months, and the one you, slowly but surely, had found yourself falling for.

The alcohol still buzzed in your veins, loosening your inhibitions just enough to make you bolder than usual. This was your chance, maybe Mark had been right all along. Jeno was here, with you, taking care of you in ways that felt like more than just friendly concern. Maybe, just maybe, you weren’t imagining the way he stayed close tonight, the way his eyes lingered a little longer.

It was now or never.

The air in the room felt heavy, thick with unspoken words and lingering tension. Jeno sat at your desk, his steady gaze unreadable as you shifted under the covers, a mix of nervousness and warmth blooming in your chest. The alcohol had numbed your inhibitions, but the electricity between you both was impossible to ignore.

You pulled the blanket tighter around yourself, trying to ground yourself in the fabric, though it did little to help. “It’s cold,” you mumbled, barely audible, your voice betraying the hint of vulnerability you didn’t want to show. In truth, the room was a bit chilly, but more than anything, you longed for his presence next to you. The space between you felt far too wide, like an unspoken barrier you didn’t know how to cross without risking everything.

Jeno’s eyes flickered toward you, his hesitation lingering in the silence that stretched between you. After a beat, he stood up from the desk, his movements slow and deliberate, as if carefully weighing each step. Your breath hitched as he approached, and your heart pounded in your chest, anticipation curling in your stomach.

Wordlessly, Jeno slid under the covers beside you, his warmth instantly chasing away the cold. His scent, a comforting mix of cologne and something undeniably him, wrapped around you, making your head spin. Instinctively, you leaned into him, your head finding its place against his chest. His arm moved naturally around you, pulling you closer, and you melted into the embrace, feeling his heartbeat against your cheek.

With Jeno’s warmth cocooning you, the outside world felt like a distant dream. The party’s once-loud music had faded into a faint murmur, barely audible over the sound of his steady breathing. Every now and then, his breath grazed your hair, sending tiny shivers down your spine. You stayed perfectly still, afraid that even the slightest movement would break this fragile moment, this perfect stillness.

“Is it still cold?” Jeno’s voice was low, a gentle murmur that seemed to sink into your very bones.

A small smile tugged at your lips, and you pressed yourself closer to him, allowing the exhaustion of the night to wash over you. “Not anymore,” you whispered, your voice barely a breath. His arm tightened around you in response, as if silently saying that he wasn’t going anywhere. That, even just for tonight, you had him.

The soft light from the bedside lamp cast a warm glow over the room, its dim shadows creating a cozy, intimate space that felt removed from reality. The world beyond your bedroom door seemed to slow, leaving only the two of you in this quiet bubble, suspended in time. You found yourself wishing that you could capture this feeling forever, keep this warmth and peace bottled up in your heart.

Jeno’s hand rested on your waist, his fingers moving in slow, absentminded circles over the fabric of your shirt. His touch was so gentle, so careful, that it sent little sparks dancing across your skin. It wasn’t just the alcohol making you dizzy; it was the tenderness in every brush of his fingers, the way he held you like you were something delicate.

“You’re always running around, taking care of everyone,” he murmured softly, his words carrying a weight that tugged at your heart. “Who takes care of you, y/n?”

His question hung in the air, the raw sincerity in his voice cutting through you. A lump formed in your throat, and you blinked rapidly to keep the sudden tears at bay. You hadn’t expected him to say something like that. Who did take care of you? For as long as you could remember, you were the one who held everything together, the one who put everyone else’s needs before your own. But in this moment, with Jeno’s arms wrapped around you, it felt like someone was finally seeing past all of that—seeing you.

“I… I don’t know,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you admitted the truth aloud. “I guess I’m just used to it.”

Jeno shifted beside you, his body pressing closer, his breath now warm against your ear. “You deserve more than that,” he said softly, his voice low and earnest, each word landing like a promise. “You deserve someone who’ll take care of you, too.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, and you swallowed hard, trying to hold back the surge of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. His words felt too good, too perfect, and a part of you was afraid to believe them. Afraid to believe that someone like Jeno could really see you like that, could want to take care of you.

Still, in this moment, wrapped in his warmth, you allowed yourself to pretend — to imagine, if only for tonight, that this could be your reality. That Jeno could be yours.

His thumb traced another slow circle on your side, his touch so gentle it was almost hypnotic. “I don’t want you to forget tonight,” he whispered, his voice even quieter now, like he was sharing a secret meant just for you.

You turned in his arms, your breath catching in your throat as your eyes locked with his. There was something in his gaze, something soft and unspoken, that made your heart race. His face was inches from yours, his breath warm on your skin, and for a brief moment, time seemed to stop altogether.

You swallowed, the words escaping you before you could think twice. “What if I do?”

For a moment, Jeno’s expression darkened, his gaze flicking down to your lips before meeting your eyes again. Then, in a movement so gentle it felt like a dream, he leaned in, brushing his lips against yours in a soft, lingering kiss. The contact sent a shiver through you, your whole body reacting to the warmth of his touch.

“Then I’ll remind you,” he murmured against your lips, his voice barely above a whisper.

The night blurred into a series of quiet moments. Soft touches, shared whispers, and a closeness that felt too tender, too fragile to belong to the real world. You could have stayed in that moment forever, tangled in Jeno’s warmth, pretending that the world outside didn’t exist.

But, as always, reality had a way of creeping back in.

Jeno’s phone buzzed on the desk beside him, the soft vibrations shattering the stillness. He sighed, his arm loosening from around you as he reached for the phone, the glow of the screen illuminating his face. You watched as his brows furrowed, his expression tense as he scrolled through the dozens of missed calls and messages.

“Shit,” he muttered, sitting up, his warmth slipping away from you entirely.

The cold rushed in immediately, filling the space where Jeno had been, and your heart sank. You knew what was coming next.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, already knowing the answer but dreading hearing it aloud.

Jeno ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in the set of his jaw. “The guys… They’ve been calling me nonstop. I told them I’d leave with them, they’re my only ride home.” His voice was tinged with regret, but beneath it, you could sense the guilt.

You forced a smile, trying to mask the disappointment that was tightening in your chest. “It’s fine,” you lied, propping yourself up on your elbow. “You should go.”

Jeno glanced down at his phone again, then back at you, his jaw tightening as he hesitated. “I don’t want to leave you alone,” he said quietly, his voice thick with the conflict swirling inside him.

You shook your head, the ache in your chest growing. “I’ll be okay,” you whispered, your words feeling hollow. “Really. Go.”

For a fleeting moment, you held onto the hope that Jeno might stay. The way he looked at you, his eyes searching your face with an intensity that made your heart race, felt like a promise unspoken. But then the phone buzzed again, shattering the delicate moment. You watched as his resolve shifted, the warmth in his gaze giving way to a distant sadness.

With a heavy sigh, he rose from the bed, the fabric of the moment tearing slightly as he slipped his phone into his pocket. The air around you felt colder, thick with unspoken words and lingering emotions, as if the very room held its breath. Just before he reached the door, he hesitated, turning back to you one last time. His eyes softened as they met yours, and he stepped back toward the bed, leaning down to press a tender kiss to your lips. It was soft and lingering, yet it carried the weight of finality.

“I’ll see you on Monday,” he whispered, his breath brushing against your skin, leaving a warmth that contrasted the chill that enveloped you after he left.

And then, he was gone.

The weekend stretched endlessly, an expanse of silence that felt like an aching void where his presence had been. No calls. No texts. Just the stark absence of his warmth and the echo of the night you had shared. With each passing hour, the memory of Jeno’s embrace faded, leaving you alone with your swirling thoughts and an unsettling sense of regret.

You spent the next two days trapped in a loop of memories, replaying every moment over and over. The way he looked at you with such intensity, the way he held you close, the sincerity in his voice when he told you that you deserved better. You ached to reach out to him, to check if he still remembered the fleeting magic of that night. But every time you reached for your phone, a wave of fear stopped you cold. The thought of his response, what he might say or, worse, what he might not say, paralyzed you.

By the time Monday rolled around, you had convinced yourself that maybe it was better this way. Pretending nothing had happened would be the safest path. After all, he would slip back into his life with friends, back to the way things were before, and you would have to bear the weight of your choices alone.

As you stepped through the school doors, you immediately felt the weight of stares bearing down on you. Whispers trailed you down the hall like a shadow, and you quickly pieced together the rumors that had spread like wildfire. Word had gotten out about you and Jeno, and Belle had undoubtedly heard every detail.

It wasn’t long before she found you. Standing by your locker, arms crossed and eyes narrowed, her glare twisted your stomach into knots.

“I can’t believe you, Y/N,” Belle hissed, her voice sharp and full of venom. “You promised me you’d be there for me. You said you’d help me with Jeno, and instead, you—” She cut herself off, her voice trembling with barely contained fury.

You swallowed hard, guilt and shame coiling tightly in your chest. “Belle, I—”

“No,” she interrupted, her eyes flashing with hurt. “Don’t. Don’t act like you didn’t know. Everyone’s talking about how you left the party together. You think I didn’t see the way he looks at you?”

Your heart plummeted, a heavy weight in your stomach. You longed to explain, to articulate that it hadn’t been what it looked like, that you hadn’t intended for any of it to happen. But deep down, you knew the truth: you had crossed a line, and no amount of explanation would erase the breach of trust.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

“It’s not fair. I was so close to having him, Y/N. I was right there, and then you had to ruin it for me.” Belle’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, but her expression hardened like ice. “You’re a liar. You promised to help,” she spat coldly, turning away from you. “You’re no better than the rest of them. Maybe you should’ve tried harder not to ruin everything.”

And just like that, she walked away, leaving you with the sharp sting of her betrayal echoing in the silence behind her.

You stood there, frozen, as the world around you faded into a blurry haze of whispers and judgmental stares. The hallway stretched out longer than usual, each step feeling like an uphill battle against the suffocating air thick with unspoken words. You could almost see the rumours swirling like storm clouds, brewing around you as classmates shot knowing glances. Some gleeful, others disdainful, while they whispered behind your back, oblivious to the truth.

You made it through the day by shrinking into yourself, avoiding everyone as if they were fragments of glass waiting to cut you. Each laugh from a group nearby felt like a mockery, reminding you of how the moments you shared with Jeno now felt like scattered shards, impossible to clean up without inflicting wounds on your heart. Every time you caught a glimpse of him in the halls, your chest tightened as his eyes flicked toward you for just a fleeting second before looking away, as if that one shared night had evaporated into thin air. Maybe it had for him.

The days following that night passed under a strange, silent agreement between you and Jeno. Neither of you acknowledged what had happened. No messages. No lingering glances. No awkward conversations. It was as if you had both silently decided that pretending it hadn’t meant anything was the easiest way to cope. But you couldn't shake the feeling that, to him, it truly hadn’t.

At school, Jeno slipped seamlessly back into the rhythm of his life, surrounded by his friends, laughter pouring from their mouths as if nothing had changed. He blended effortlessly into the crowd of popular kids, exuding an air of confidence that was painfully absent in you. Later, you overheard snippets of their conversations, casual, dismissive remarks. “She’s not worth it, man. You could do way better,” Haechan chuckled, as if your very existence was a punchline. Jeno merely shrugged, his indifference cutting deeper than any blade. “It was nothing.”

The words pierced through your carefully constructed defences, more painful than you could have anticipated. They shouldn’t have stung; after all, you had spent the entire weekend convincing yourself that you didn’t care, that it was just a fleeting moment. But those three words echoed in your mind, a relentless mantra: It was nothing.

Still, you played your part. Whenever you passed him in the halls or found yourself near his group during lunch, you donned a mask of indifference so convincingly that you almost started to believe it yourself. You laughed with your other friends, pretended to focus in class, and convinced yourself that forgetting was the best option. You were adept at pretending, had to be, but that night continued to linger, haunting you like a bittersweet melody you couldn't silence.

The only person who seemed to peel back your façade was Mark. You never spoke about that night directly, but he could read between the lines. He noticed the way your gaze avoided Jeno, how your laughter felt forced, and how your smile no longer reached your eyes.

One afternoon, when the weight of everything felt too heavy to bear, you found yourself gravitating toward Mark. He sat on the grass at the edge of the soccer field, scribbling furiously in his notebook. You dropped down beside him, the warmth of the sun contrasting with the cold ache in your chest. He looked up, brow raised, but he didn’t say anything right away, giving you space to breathe.

“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore,” you finally admitted, staring into the distance as the horizon blurred with your emotions.

Mark closed his notebook, shifting his full attention to you. “Want to talk about it?”

You shook your head, frustration bubbling inside you. “Not really. Just… everything’s a mess.”

He didn’t press you, but his unwavering gaze bore into you, his concern palpable. “You don’t have to pretend with me. I can tell you’re not okay.”

The tightness in your chest intensified at his words, and you forced a laugh that felt hollow. “It’s not a big deal. I barely even remember that night, anyway.”

Mark didn’t buy it. He never did. “You don’t have to lie to me. But if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay too.”

The silence stretched between you, filled with all the unsaid things that hung heavy in the air. You stared at the ground, fighting the emotions that threatened to spill over.

“Jeno didn’t say anything, did he?” you asked, the question slipping out before you could hold it back.

Mark sighed, leaning back on his hands. “He’s pretending it never happened, too. His friends… Well, they’re being assholes, like always. Told him he could do better. You know how they are.”

You nodded, the weight of disappointment sinking deeper into your bones. Of course they would say that. Of course Jeno would follow their lead. It was easier to dismiss the connection you had shared, to act like you hadn’t been wrapped up in each other, sharing warmth and vulnerability in a way that felt almost sacred.

Sensing your shift in mood, Mark nudged your shoulder lightly, offering a small smile. “Look, I’m not gonna pretend to understand what’s going on in Jeno’s head. But you deserve better than this, better than being some secret he feels like he has to hide.”

His words wrapped around you like a comforting blanket, yet they only amplified the ache in your heart. You wished it didn’t hurt so much, wished you could just move on like Jeno seemed to. But the truth was, that night had meant something to you. Even if you shouldn’t have felt that way, even if you tried to convince yourself otherwise, it did.

It wasn’t just the gossip or the whispers that hurt; it was the entire situation. The reality that you had gotten swept up in something so fleeting, yet so consuming. You felt like you were living on a stage, where every move was scrutinised, turned into something larger than life. Belle, Jeno, his friends; they were all part of that act, and now, so were you. You thought back to the party, to the fragile intimacy you had shared with Jeno, the way you had intertwined your lives for a moment. But the harsh reality was that it hadn’t been real. Not for him.

When you got home, you collapsed onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling, its familiar texture suddenly feeling foreign and oppressive. The quiet of your room suffocated you, amplifying the echoes of whispers and judgment that had followed you all day. It should have been a relief to escape the chaos, but instead, it was a stark reminder of how alone you felt. Gone were the masks and the laughter; all that remained was the haunting silence, thick with unspoken words and unresolved feelings.

Your phone buzzed, and for a fleeting moment, hope flickered inside you. Maybe it was Jeno, maybe he finally had something to say, something that could bridge the chasm that had formed between you two. But as you glanced down, the screen illuminated a message from Mark instead.

Mark: How you holding up?

You stared at the words, the glow of the screen casting a pale light over your uncertainty. Mark had always been the one to see beyond your carefully constructed façade, the only person who didn’t press for answers you weren’t ready to give. His concern was palpable even through the digital barrier, but the weight of your own feelings made it hard to respond.

You: I don’t know.

The reply felt painfully inadequate, a thin veil over the storm churning inside you. You tossed your phone aside, pulling your knees up to your chest, as if trying to protect your heart from the world outside. What did you even want at this point? Jeno wasn’t coming back to fix things, and Belle was probably rehearsing her next round of accusations. You felt caught in a strange, uncomfortable limbo, yearning to forget while being unable to erase the vivid memories of that night.

In the days that followed, you had tried to convince yourself the night with Jeno was nothing more than a fleeting mistake, a moment spurred by alcohol and the warmth of the moment. But now, as the realization washed over you, it became painfully clear: you had wanted it to mean something more. You craved the way he looked at you that night—not with the haze of drunken affection, but with something deeper, something that could fill the void you felt inside.

But he didn’t. He never would.

You remained motionless on your bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling, feeling the silence stretch around you like a shroud. Your phone buzzed again, probably Mark checking in, but you couldn’t muster the energy to respond. The weight of your decisions pressed heavily on your chest, reminding you of the loss that had settled in your heart.

You had lost your best friend, sacrificed your bond with Belle for something ephemeral, and now, you were left to pick up the pieces alone. And maybe that was what hurt the most. The realization that in the end, none of it had felt real. Not the intimate moments shared with Jeno, not the friendship you had thought you could count on with Belle. Everything felt built on a shaky foundation, fragile and destined to crumble.

As you lay there, you reached for your phone, hoping to drown out the noise in your head with music. You scrolled through your playlist, searching for anything that could take you away from this moment. And then it started, the familiar notes of Crush Culture by Conan Gray filled the room, wrapping around you like a bittersweet embrace.

With each lyric, you felt a rush of recognition that hit you like a truck. Crush culture makes me wanna spill my guts out. The words resonated deeply, echoing the tumult of emotions swirling inside you. It was as if Conan had taken the scattered pieces of your heart and crafted them into a song, pulling at the very strings of your soul.

The lines about fleeting moments, unreciprocated feelings, and the pain of wanting something that was never truly yours surged through you. You closed your eyes, allowing the music to wash over you, each note igniting memories of that night with Jeno. The way he held you, the laughter you shared, the promises whispered in the dark. But with each line, the weight of reality crashed down harder, reminding you of the distance that had grown between you since then.

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, the catharsis almost overwhelming as the song played on. You could feel every word burrowing into your heart, every melody capturing the longing you tried to hide. This wasn’t just about Jeno; it was about everything you had lost, everything you had poured into moments that turned out to be nothing but illusions.

And in that moment, you felt a fragile clarity. You might be lost now, but you wouldn’t stay that way forever. The lyrics continued to echo around you, each syllable a promise that you would find a way through the pain, that you could reclaim your voice, your heart, and maybe, just maybe, discover what it meant to feel whole again.

As the song faded into silence, you lay back against your pillows, allowing the tears to flow freely. It was time to face the truth, to embrace the chaos of your emotions, and to start piecing together a new beginning. And with that thought, you closed your eyes, a flicker of hope igniting within you. A hope that lingered long after the last notes faded away.

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justanotherflemethstan · 3 days

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I have been very positive and hopeful for DAtV ever since it was announced, but the latest IGN article has massively tanked my excitement, to a degree where I'm wondering if I even want to purchase DAtV on release or wait for it to be discounted at a later date.

Here is the core if the problem:

Continuity has always been such a massive part of what makes the DA/ME Bioware titles special. Playing an RPG where I can romance some of the characters is no longer enough of a unique formula, and others have likely done it better than what DAtV can ever offer (I don't expect nowhere near the level of complexity of BG3). The fact that we as players could inhabit a world that responded to our choices throught time and reflected our decisions in big and small ways was a core part of what made Dragon Age different. Reducing it to 1 romance and 2 DLC decisions completely destroys any visible continuity, where even a character like Morrigan who according to the devs has always been present for "world shaping events" will have to dance around not actually mentioning any consequences of said events.

Basically, avoiding any mention or any consequences of those "world-shaping events" (Epler's own words) makes them kind of not world shaping at all. It competely removes both the stakes from past games and any player agency since no matter what you did or chose in the past the world of Thedas in Dragon Age the Veilguard remains exactly the same. You didn't at all shape it as a player.

Finally, I just want to add as someone working in design myself that respecting user/player contribution and preserving their input are just basic principles of good design. Many, many players across many years have dedicated their most precious resources - time, effort, even money - into crafting their own unique Dragon Age characters, worldstates, and storylines. First offering the tools for players to make all those choices and then completely ignoring them is the studio/EA essentially saying that what we did doesn't matter. Our time doesn't matter. Our effort doesn't matter. Our stories don't matter. All that matters is that we open our wallets and pay for another game because it has the branding of a franchise that we used to love.

#datv critical #dragon age critical #dragon age the veilguard spoilers #dragon age the veilguard #dragon age 4 #dragon age

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ninetailedfoxmanchi · 3 days

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Mafia! BTS - They Are the Rival Boss Who Likes You (pt. 2)

Summary: You were in an abusive relationship with your ex-boyfriend who was also in a gang. At a benefit, you run into M/N, your boyfriend's rival, whose mind has been on you since he met you. He helps you escape and takes you to the safety of his apartment.

Warnings: mentions of abusive relationship, but mostly trauma recovery

PART 1

A/N: Without a doubt, the softest thing I have ever written. All of the members' Y/Ns are different though. They have different degrees of trauma and different ways of dealing with it.

I planned to post this days ago but I just couldn't do Jimin and Taehyung's part. I don't know why but I always struggle writing them the most, especially Taehyung ... His character gives me shivers, honestly, in the best way.

Let me know if I should do a part 3.

***

Jin

Although Jin asked if you were hungry, you did not have an appetite in the least. You asked to take a shower however, and Jin lent you some of his clothes to change into. You put on his sweatpants that you needed to roll up at the bottom and a knitted, white cashmere sweater softer than anything you had ever felt before in your life.

The rain only grew stronger outside when you returned to the living area finding Jin by the window, his hands stuck in the pockets of his trousers. He was in deep thought before he noticed you were back.

"How are you feeling?" asked Jin.

"Better," you nodded. The hot shower helped you calm down some although it also made you exponentially more tired.

"How are you?" you asked Jin in turn. He looked at you.

"Good," Jin nodded softly, a small smile on his lips. He could see the tiredness in your eyes and the yawns that you desperately tried to suppress but failed.

"You should try and get some rest," said Jin reassuringly and showed you to the guest bedroom.

Once you you wished Jin goodnight, you climbed into the bed eagerly and pulled the covers over you. The walls of the room were a shade of grey so pale it was almost blue, with a white ceiling and a matching carpet. The bed had an ornate white frame in the same style as the vanity table and the closets along the wall. You only managed to look yourself in the mirror for a moment when brushing your teeth, feeling almost disgusted with yourself. You could not believe you asked Jin for help and asked him to expose himself. It was a moment of desperation, you knew, but it did not make you feel anything better - or helped you fall asleep any faster.

It was only towards dawn that exhaustion took you and you managed to get a couple of hours of good sleep, but for most of the night, your mind could produce nothing but nightmares. You dreamed of Kang, of your family, and even of Jin. Yet even though you did not sleep much, you still felt better when you rolled out of bed in mid-morning.

You could hear the movement in the kitchen when you opened the door of the guest bedroom. You did not know why but you tiptoed down the hallway, slowly peeking into the kitchen. Jin was at the counter cutting up some fruit, a pot of French press getting ready. He was wearing a pale blue shirt and black trousers, an elegant wristwatch shinning on his hand.

Jin could feel your gaze on him, having heard the door of your bedroom open.

"Good morning," said Jin when he saw you half-leaning, half-hiding behind the wall of the hallway that opened into the kitchen one the one side and living area on the other.

"Morning," you said quietly as you joined Jin in the kitchen.

"Do I ... I can I help with anything?" you asked, feeling completely useless.

"It's okay," smiled Jin. "There's coffee."

You nodded and uttered a small 'thank you', your eyes drifting to the dining table. It was sat beautifully with napkins, little bowls, cups and glasses.

"Cream, sugar?" asked Jin as he poured you some French press. You stared at him.

"Why are you so kind to me?" you found yourself asking. The pang of guilt you have been feeling was no longer just a pang but a heavy mass that weighed on your chest.

Jin leaned his long arms against the counter, the smile leaving his eyes beneath a forming frown.

"Why did you even help me?" you asked almost desperately. Your eyes filled with tears suddenly and you hated yourself for it.

"You asked me," said Jin somberly, staring down at you.

"But I shouldn't have!" you cried, wiping away your tears that kept on falling. "You should have said no ..."

"What are you talking about?" asked Jin astounded. He took your palm and squeezed your fingers in his hand reassuringly.

"If something happened to you for helping me ..." you shook your head, hiding your eyes behind your free hand as you tried to stop yourself from crying.

Jin watched you, taken back by your words. His heart weighed heavy in his chest to see you cry.

"I should have never gotten you into this," you whispered once you managed to calm down a little. "You're the only friend I got."

Jin tugged on your hand gently and pulled you to him, his arms wrapping around your body. You did not know how to react at first but your hands soon found their way around Jin's shoulders as you curled up against his chest.

"You didn't get me into anything, Y/N," said Jin definitively. "You got yourself out of something."

You nodded as you pulled away, trying to wipe away the tear stains but Jin beat you to it. His large hands cupped your face as he brushed away your tears with his thumbs and made you look up at him.

"Now ... Cream, sugar?" Jin smiled warmly.

Namjoon

You looked around the living area whilst Namjoon disappeared to get you some clothes to change into. His place was very different from what you expected by the look of him. Although in truth, you knew the problem was that you did not know him at all. The thought made you nervous and yet not as nervous as what your night, your life with Kang would have been like if you had not left with Namjoon tonight.

Your eyes skimmed over the books on the shelves, the magazines and newspapers on the coffee table. It was raining outside, millions of drops gliding down the window-wall that opened into an atrium with a small tree. It was pleasant inside, however, with the soft carpet beneath your feet and plants from orchids to bonsai everywhere you looked.

You thought Namjoon would live in a tall skyscraper and yet the drive took you to the outskirts of the city, to a short apartment building. You turned back to the atrium and frowned, wondering whether he owned the entire building.

"Here," said Namjoon, waking you from your thoughts. You jumped around, your eyes on the clothes Namjoon was offering you.

"Everything I have is going to be too big on you," said Namjoon with a small shake of his head as he licked his lips.

"That's fine," you breathed, grateful. It would have been enough if he simply dropped you off somewhere. You could hardly believe that you were even in his home.

"You didn't ..." you began voicing a horrible thought that appeared in your mind but stopped yourself when Namjoon's eyes met yours. Your lips parted yet you could not make yourself say it.

"What?" encouraged Namjoon.

"Nothing," you shook your head as your mouth went dry.

"What?" insisted Namjoon, his dark eyes forcing the answer from you as his brows furrowed into a frown. You clutched the clothes closer to your chest, your fists balling around the soft material of the hoodie and sweatpants he gave you.

"I just ..." you tried again, feeling as if you had swallowed a ball of sand. "Are you helping me to get revenge on Kang?"

The answered scared you. Even if Namjoon was only using you to get ahead of Kang and to spite him, there was very little you could do about it. Once caught up in this world, it was impossible to get out. You were just Namjoon's plaything. And it would explain why he brought you to his apartment and not simply dropping you off at a station or something.

Your heart was thumping hard against your throat as heat prickled on your neck.

Namjoon stared at you for a moment, a moment that seemed to you to last forever although it was barely a few seconds. He turned away and let out a short breath before he licked his lips and his dark eyes returned to you.

"It would be outrageous if I liked you, wouldn't it?" said Namjoon serenely as if he were only thinking out loud, his voice quiet but deep.

It took you a moment to realize it was not serenity Namjoon spoke with but disillusionment. Your lips parted but his words had knocked you out of air.

A loud thunder echoed through the air, making you wince as you looked over your shoulder and into the stormy night air. But as you returned your attention on Namjoon, he was already making for the kitchen.

You hurried, catching up to him when Namjoon suddenly turned around. You had to take a step back to be able to look up at him, a flush of hot fever rushing to your cheeks.

"You like me?" you breathed, your chest rising and falling heavily as your eyes locked with his. You could not tell what Namjoon was thinking but there was a storm of thoughts behind his eyes.

A small, almost invisible breath escaped Namjoon's lips before he turned around, reaching for the teapot.

"Wait," you reached for Namjoon's hand instead. His dark eyes followed your touch back to your eyes. "Please talk to me," you begged in a whisper, tears threatening to creep into your eyes.

Namjoon studied you before he leaned down closer to you.

"I like you," said Namjoon quietly, his chest rumbling with the deepness of his voice. His eyes radiated a warmth you had never known before. Suddenly, all of the times you saw Namjoon at all of those benefits and fundraisers came flooding right back to you: the warm smiles hiding in his eyes, the nods, and the hellos, when he talked to you - how he talked to you ...

"You like me?" you exhaled incredulously.

The warmth inside Namjoon's eyes swirled with amusement as he breathed a smile, this time managing to reach for the teapot. He could feel your gaze on his back as he poured water into the kettle, the smile on his lips growing.

You were too stunned to speak, certain that he would dismiss your assumptions and not confirm them. You did not know how you felt about Namjoon, you hardly knew him; but you could definitely feel the butterflies in your stomach.

You managed to take a shower and wash the makeup off your face before changing into the clothes Namjoon lent you. He was right too; you had to roll up the cuffs of the sweatpants whilst his hoodie fell to the middle of your thighs. You did not mind though, grateful to get out of the evening dress you wore before.

You found Namjoon in the living room, his back to you as he spoke on the phone, holding a tall cup of tea between the tips of his fingers. You leaned against the arch that opened into the living area, waiting for him to finish the conversation. Namjoon had heard you coming and ended the phone call, his gaze rising from your toes up to your eyes as he saw you in his clothes.

Your heart began beating faster in your chest as blood rushed to your cheeks.

"Is everything alright?" you asked, referring to Namjoon's phone call.

"Everything is alright," confirmed Namjoon and made his way over to you. Although the phone call was Yoongi who called him with news of Kang's rage and promises of revenge, Namjoon wouldn't dream of telling you. You were upset enough as it was.

Namjoon did not have to tell you though. You had become frighteningly good at noticing even the smallest signs of tension in the past months and you could see it in Namjoon's broad shoulders.

"He knows I'm here, doesn't he?" you asked quietly. Your eyes prickled with tears but you looked away. You were so tired of crying.

Your gaze rose to Namjoon's when he did not say anything.

"Doesn't he?" you whispered to keep your voice from breaking. Namjoon's eyes watched you, a parting in his lips as he realized he could not lie to you, not when you looked at him with tears in your eyes.

"He knows."

"I should—"

"You don't have to worry about it. I'll handle it," Namjoon cut you off immediately. He would not hear it.

"But—"

"Y/N, I'll handle it," decided Namjoon, giving you no space to argue. Your eyes studied his face but he was unwavering in his decision.

You had no choice but to nod although it only made the tears spill from your eyes as your chin quivered. It was all too much: Kang, the benefit, the escape, rolling all of this responsibility on Namjoon ...

"I'm sorry," you whispered hiding your eyes behind your hand.

"Don't apologize," said Namjoon sternly. "Not for this." His arms wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you closer, his hand holding your head to his chest as you began to sob. You wanted to apologize a thousand times but Namjoon did not want your apologies; there was nothing to apologize for. He only wanted to hold you and make sure you were safe.

Yoongi

You looked around the apartment warily whilst Yoongi went to get you some clothes to change into as you were still wearing the evening gown. You took a step closer the wall stacked with hundreds upon hundreds of vinyl records. You read some of the tiny titles scribbled on their sides when Yoongi suddenly reappeared behind you.

"I was just looking," you said quickly, making sure he knew you did not touch any of his things.

Yoongi looked at you. "You don't have to just look," he said, gesturing at the record player sitting near the window. You followed his gaze.

"Oh," you breathed. "That's okay." A small smile came to rest on your lips.

Yoongi handed you a pair of grey sweatpants and a soft black hoodie. You thanked him, holding the clothes to your chest.

You could not believe the reality of your situation or what made you agree to do this in the fist place. You may have spoken to Min Yoongi a couple of times before but in truth you did not know him at all and the thought frightened you.

Yoongi showed you around the apartment to break the uncomfortable silence. He opened the door of the bathroom, gestured to his bedroom at the end of the hallway and showed you to the guest bedroom. Yoongi held the door open for you to enter. You hesitated, not catching on to his gesture and waiting for him to enter first.

Yoongi's dark eyes waited on you. You glanced at him.

"Oh," was all that came from your mouth before you quickly scurried inside. The walls were a deep colour neither grey nor green with white wooden lining and a light ceiling that brightened the room. There was cherry blossom in the vase on the nightstand and a large bed with cozy pillows and blankets in the shades of beige against one of the walls.

"I can stay here?" you asked carefully, not wanting to take anything for granted. It was hard enough for you to believe that anyone would go up against Kang for anything, much less to help you.

"It's yours," said Yoongi, leaning against the door frame. "I will let you get changed," he said before you could thank him. He closed the door quietly behind him.

You sat on the edge of the bed, your body sinking into the soft mattress. You held Yoongi's clothes close to you as if they were a pillow. They smelled of laundry detergent and the beautiful fragrance he always wore. You closed your eyes but shouldn't have because your eyes spilled with hot tears and your chest was heavy with sobs that you would not let Yoongi to hear. You weren't sure why you were crying; was it relief or fear or both or nothing at all, but a part of it was all of the stress and anxiety that built up inside of you over the past months.

You changed into the clothes Yoongi gave you whilst still calming yourself down some. You slipped into the bathroom unnoticed and washed your face. One look at your make up and he would have know you had been crying. Yoongi knew anyway though from the redness of your eyes and the tone of your voice.

"Are you hungry?" asked Yoongi and opened the door of his fridge. It was always stacked with food although he almost never ate at home.

"I'm okay," you said genuinely as you leaned against the counter. You could not possibly have anything to eat in that moment.

Yoongi closed the fridge, his ink black eyes turning to you. His clothes were too big on you but he figured they were more comfortable than in the stunning dress you wore.

"I can make you some tea," suggested Yoongi and took a step closer, seeing the restlessness in your eyes.

"It's okay," you spoke quietly, using much self-control not to take a step back. "Thank you," you found yourself saying at last. "For everything."

"You don't need to thank me for anything," said Yoongi, uninterested in your gratitude.

"But I do," you insisted and your eyes watered again. You hated yourself for crying so much but you could not control it. Just the thought of what tonight might have been like for you, if Kang lost control like he did before the benefit ... What tomorrow would have been like and every day that followed if you had not managed to get away from him.

"You don't," said Yoongi again and yet his expression softened when he saw you like this. "You should get some rest," he said gently.

You nodded as he walked you to the guest bedroom. You hesitated before you went in.

"I saw you have sleeping pills in the bathroom," you began, threading lightly. "Would it be okay if I had one?"

"Of course," agreed Yoongi and brought you a glass of water.

"You don't have to ask me this," said Yoongi as you took the sleeping pill. "Anything you need, it's yours." You stared at Yoongi with the glass in your hand. He took it, his fingers brushing against yours, making your skin tingle.

"Thank you," you said again but Yoongi gave no sign of recognizing your gratitude. He would not accept it because in his mind's eye everything he did for you and everything you needed was a given.

You said your good-nights before you closed the door behind you and climbed into bed. You surrounded yourself with pillows, and although your mind was screaming with thoughts and emotions that made your tears soak the covers beneath your head, the sleeping pill was even stronger than you anticipated. You fell into a deep slumber, sleeping for nearly fourteen hours without waking.

Yoongi could barely sleep at all however. He had half a mind to take the sleeping pill himself but he needed himself alert. So instead, Yoongi lay in bed thinking and staring at the ceiling. He could not have cared less about Kang or the rivalry or any of it; his mind always only drifted off to you.

Yoongi would get up every couple of hours and quietly open the door to your bedroom only enough to see that you were alright and sound asleep.

Yoongi came to check on you one last time after he managed to get a couple of hours of sleep himself. Morning was already piercing into view on the horizon when he glanced into your room. He pushed the door open quietly and fixed the comforter over you as it was almost on the floor. Your body sought the warmth in your sleep when the comforter was drawn over you once again and your arms wrapped around it, hugging it close. A small sigh escaped your lips when Yoongi brushed a stray lock of hair from your eyes. He could hear the sound of his own heart ringing in his ears at how beautiful you looked. It took all the strength in him to peel himself away from your side and to not caress your cheek, which could cause you to wake. He did not even want to imagine the look on your face if you found him in your room when you woke. You were already anxious enough because of Kang.

The thought of that man made Yoongi's blood boil. He closed the door of your bedroom gently although the anger he was feeling could have him slam them to the point of breaking.

Yoongi took a long shower to clear his mind and wake him up properly. Kang knew you were with Yoongi and he promised an all-out war. Yoongi could not help but smile to himself as hot water poured down his body. He would enjoy every minute of destroying Kang. He thought about it still even as he got dressed, his wrath fueled even more each time he remembered your bruise and the way Kang must have been treating you.

Yoongi exited his bedroom so deep in thought he almost collided with you, who also just came out of your room. Yoongi's eyes went wide as he steadied you by the shoulders, the scent of your perfume that still lingered on your skin from last night triggering goosebumps on his arms, but it was nothing compared to your small hands resting against his chest.

You stared at Yoongi in his black t-shirt and his black trousers as caught off guard as he was.

"Sorry," you said quickly and took a step back.

Compared to last night, you were more rested than ever. You could not even recall when you last had such a good night's sleep, having slept next to a person you did not trust and did not want anymore for weeks.

"I'm sorry for last night too," you began. Yoongi looked at you surprised. "I wasn't myself; I was tired and I was scared ... And I just ... I really wanted to thank you for everything," you confessed as you bit the inside of your lip.

"Y/N—"

"Please, Yoongi, I just ..." you cut him off but did not know how to put it in words. Yoongi's face softened even more than you thought possible hearing the sound of his name roll off your tongue.

"I just ..." you tried again but there were no words that you could find. Instead, you stepped on the tips of your toes and reached your hands around Yoongi's neck as you pulled him into a tight hug. He froze for a moment, before his arms locked around the middle of your back, his face burying in your neck.

"Thank you," you whispered again and found that this time Yoongi did not protest.

Hoseok

Jung took you to his apartment in the city. The building was an enormously tall skyscraper with a doorman and security men posted at every corner. Your gaze traced their heavy guns as Hoseok led you to the elevator. The closer you got to your final destination, the more anxious you became and the adrenaline began to disappear. The reality of it all hit you like a ton of bricks, a thousand worries weighing down on your chest.

"He doesn't know where you live, does he?" you asked Jung carefully just before the elevator opened.

Hoseok placed his hand on the side of the door to let you pass in case it tried to close.

"Who?" asked Jung as you stepped out into the small, bright corridor. A couple of more men were posted there, making you nervous as your worried eyes returned to Jung.

"He doesn't," assured Hoseok when he saw the look in your eyes. "Even if he did, he would never make it past the lobby."

Jung typed in the security code and pressed his finger against the pad before the door opened.

"Come in."

You stepped inside warily, quickly looking for signs of anything out of the ordinary. But the apartment was beautiful. The hallway opened into a spacious living area that lead to the kitchen and dining room. The walls were creamy and bright and decorated with artwork. There were bookshelves and plants and large windows that allowed for a view of the city, bringing life into the room.

You took off your heels, hesitating a little before entering the living area. It was all so clean and organized like something off a magazine or a Pinterest board.

"It's okay," said Hoseok, the tips of his fingers gently brushing against your shoulder blade.

You nodded. There was a strange warmth about Hoseok that you could not explain. Every instinct in your body trusted him although your mind and reason still needed some convincing. You barely knew him in truth.

Hoseok lent you some of his clothes to change into, a pair of cozy sweatpants and a soft t-shit your body got lost in. He asked if you were hungry or wanted anything else but you had no appetite. Your stomach was still in knots.

Hoseok showed you the guest bedroom where you could stay. The room was warm and inviting, with pale pistachio-green walls and a beige-white carpet that framed the bed, which was topped with pillows and blankets.

The sight of it all, how beautiful and inviting and warm it was, gave your chest a painful squeeze. You hated the tears that prickled your eyes but you could not help but ask,

"Why are you helping me?"

Your voice was soft but your brows gathered into a frown when you looked up at Hoseok. He seemed surprised by your question.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"You barely know me," you found yourself whispering to keep your voice from cracking.

"I know enough," said Hoseok, who now frowned as well. You were taken back by how drastically his features could change from soft and inviting, to authoritative and pensive although there was still warmth you could recognize in his dark eyes.

"But how?" you asked quietly, your gaze locked with his. Hoseok looked away and licked his lips before his eyes returned to you.

"I have been keeping an eye on you," he confessed.

"Why?" you breathed, astonished and your brows raised. Hoseok did not say anything although his eyes spoke loudly enough for you to understand.

"My bedroom is just down the hall if you'll need anything," said Hoseok and tore his gaze away from yours. He turned around and made to leave, keeping the door of your bedroom cracked open.

You found yourself forgetting to breathe as you watched him leave. You sat on the edge of the bed overwhelmed with emotions. Hand clutched over your chest, you tried to steady your breathing and ease the pain that assembled in your lungs. You tried to find some sleep but you only twisted and turned all night and waited for the morning to come.

You emerged from the room early in the morning, surprised to find Hoseok awake as well. What more, you found him dressed in a pair of elegant black trousers and a crisp white shirt, freshly shaven and showered, smelling like heaven. The entire hallway smelled like his bodywash, giving you goosebumps

You felt like you were in nothing more than a garbage bag compared to Hoseok although it was his Prada t-shirt you were wearing.

Hoseok looked up from his phone, feeling a pair of eyes on him. You blushed and hoped it did not show in the early morning light and with your hair let down.

"Awake already?" asked Hoseok, his morning voice soft and nothing short of warm as he was leaning against the kitchen counter. You nodded, still lingering in the narrow hallway, which opened into the kitchen and living area.

"Did you sleep well?"

You shook your head and joined him at the counter, sitting down on one of the chairs. "I couldn't keep my mind off things," you murmured, your voice soft and quiet in the morning hour. "How did you sleep?"

Something shifted in Hoseok's eyes when you asked him that. "I couldn't keep my mind off things either," he said unblinking, taking in your features: the sheet wrinkles on the side of your neck, the way you breathed softly with your sleepy eyes on his.

Hoseok looked away. He grabbed a large paper shopping bag that sat at his feet and placed it on the counter. They were clothes for you - only some basic items but you were too shocked to thank him.

"You went shopping?" you asked wide-eyed although it probably wasn't even seven in the morning and everything was still closed.

"No, I had someone bring them over," smiled Hoseok.

"I didn't go anywhere," he said after a moment, frowning at the thought of leaving you there all alone.

Hoseok could not sleep at night because his mind kept drifting off to you, sleeping in his apartment, in his guest bedroom down the hall. He thought about your conversation last night and how he handled it. Hoseok was determined to make up for it and ordered his personal assistant to find some clothes for you even if he had to wake the owner of the shopping center in the middle of the night. He wanted to make you comfortable by at least getting you some clothes of your own and some essentials you might need.

You watched Hoseok as a cloud of steam rose continuously from his coffee. You followed a strand of his hair that threatened onto his eyes. You reached over hesitantly, carefully catching the lock between your fingers and tucking it in its place.

Hoseok froze still as you did that, his dark eyes piercing through you as heat crept to your cheeks.

"Sorry," you whispered and crossed your arms again as you were leaning against the counter. Little did you know Hoseok's heart threatened to jump from his chest from racing so fast, and even less did he know that yours wanted to do the same.

Jimin

Jimin took you to his apartment in the city. The building was secured from top to bottom with security posted at every corner. The sight of the guards calmed you and made you anxious at the same time. You quickened your pace, your hand slipping into Jimin's instinctively. His sharp eyes snapped to you, his reaction making you realize what you were doing.

"Sorry," you said quickly, your eyes wide as you tried to take your hand back but Jimin would not let it go. Instead, his fingers intertwined with yours as you entered the elevator. You squeezed Jimin's hand subconsciously, your knee fidgeting beneath your elegant black dress. Your mind rushed in every direction with thoughts of Kang and the benefit at its centre. You wondered how long it took for him to notice that you were gone and that Park was gone too.

"He doesn't ... He doesn't know where you live, does he?" you asked gravely just as the elevator door opened. Jimin's gaze locked with yours. The door wanted to close again but his hand stopped them.

"Of course not," said Jimin darkly. You exited the elevator. "And if he does, he'll be shot dead before he makes it past the lobby," added Jimin, knocking the breath out of you. You stared at him paralyzed as he typed in the code of the apartment lock, imagining the scene in your head. Although Kang has been terrible to you and you wanted nothing else but to get away from him, a part of you still cared for some reason. You have been together for nearly two years and not all of it was bad. Yet on the other hand, if Kang came after Jimin for helping you ...

"Come," said Jimin as he opened the door for you.

You stared at Jimin whilst your heart weighed heavy in your chest and your lungs turned to lead with worry. You took your hand from his.

"I should go," you found yourself saying and turned on your heel, pressing the elevator button.

"Y/N," called Jimin, already catching your hand before the elevator door could even open. "What are you talking about?" His eyebrows had formed into a terrible frown. You could not even look at him as your eyes filled with hot tears.

"I shouldn't be here," you hurried, "If Kang finds out where I am—"

"I told you you're safe, Y/N," Jimin cut you off and you finally managed to look at him, your big watery eyes finding his.

"I don't care about me," you cried. "What if he hurts you?" You looked away as two salty tears slipped down your cheeks. You brushed them away with your free hand, doing your best to control the sobs that wanted nothing more but to escape your lungs.

You looked back up at Jimin when he did not say anything. His frown was almost gone and his jaw softened as his brown eyes filled with warmth.

Another tear slipped from your eye but Jimin caught it with his thumb.

"Come in," assured Jimin, his voice gentle. You hesitated but the tug of Jimin's hand encouraged you before he led you inside.

Jimin turned on the lights, revealing a spacious living area at the end of the short hallway. You slipped off your heels and took in the view. The rich dark tones of the walls and the furniture were balanced out by the white ceilings and warm lights. The living room opened into the kitchen and dining room that further led to a narrow hallway.

"Come, let's get you some clothes," said Jimin, making you turn around. There was a staircase behind you that led to a second floor.

Jimin pushed open the door of his bedroom as he led you through it to his walk-in closet. His room was the opposite of downstairs with its pale walls and dark hardwood floors. The walls of Jimin's walk-in closet, however, were lined with suits and shirts and jewellery and shoes.

"Are you cold? Do you want a hoodie?" asked Jimin but received no answer from you. When he turned around, he found your eyes on one the dressers he had especially made. Jimin forgot one of the drawers open, one with a slick black sniper gun lying in a bed of foam of its exact shape.

Jimin let go of your hand and closed the drawer with a swift gesture. The drawer locked into the dresser, only Jimin's fingerprint being able to open it again.

Your heart was beating hard against your throat as you gaze met with Jimin's. This was not your first time seeing a gun yet the sight of it sent shivers down your spine nonetheless.

"T-shirt or hoodie?" asked Jimin again, changing the topic completely.

"A t-shirt is fine," you managed to utter and although your voice was near as quiet as a whisper, your voice crack slightly anyway. You could see that Jimin noticed because his body froze when he heard it even if only for a split second.

Jimin handed you one of his t-shirts and a pair of cozy sweatpants and gave you some privacy to change.

You slipped from your dress and put on his clothes before emerging from the closet. You expected to find him in his room but he wasn't there. You thought to find him downstairs but you could not help but take a look around Jimin's bedroom. There was a silver laptop on his large bed, only the lamp from his nightstand turned on. You stopped in front of the window-wall and took in the full view of the city; the yellow and red lights glowed in the rainy night with blue lights from an ambulance or a police car passing by here and there. You sank deep in thought. The image of Kang's eyes, of his clenched jaw, and loud voice persisted in your mind as you remembered your last argument. You remembered the fear and the insecurity.

You felt heat on the back of your neck and the pressure of anxiety in your chest. You sat down in one of the two armchairs by the window, trying to calm your trembling hands.

"You know you're sitting in my favourite chair," said Jimin, a shadow of a playful smile in the corner of his lips but you could not see it; you could only hear his words.

"W-What?" you stuttered, comprehending what he said. You stood up quickly, "I-I'm sorry, I didn't know ..."

Your big wide eyes jumped to Jimin's as you hugged your arms. His eyebrows hung in a formidable frown, his dark eyes darting to your hands. Although he knew it was there, Jimin's gaze fell upon your bruised elbow for the first time. The purple fingertips that were imprinted into your skin made his stomach twist into knots. It took every ounce of discipline in him not to storm out and kill Kang with his bare hands. Jimin knew you guys fought a lot but he never realized it was this bad or he would have done something about it.

"Y/N," whispered Jimin, his hands slowly cupping your cheeks. You did not even know when it happened but there were tears falling from your eyes. Jimin tried to brush them away with his thumbs but only more fell.

"Y/N, please ..." begged Jimin, his heart falling to pieces to see you cry. You sniffled back a sob and looked down. How you hated to cry; it made you feel weak and helpless but nothing you could do would stop it in that moment.

Jimin pulled you closer, his arms securing around your trembling frame. Your hands wrapped around his waist as sobs filled your lungs. Jimin caressed your hair and held you to him as you cried, his chin resting on top of your head.

Taehyung

You observed Taehyung with the corner of your eye as he drove, still not knowing where he was taking you. You began to doubt whether this was a good idea, whether you could trust Taehyung. They were all in this business together with the same sort of tactics and manipulations. For a moment, you considered it was all just a trap, that Kang and Taehyung made some sort of agreement for your boyfriend to test your loyalty or play a trick on you.

Your hands began to tremble as you blinked back the tears. Taehyung made a sharp turn into the garage of a tall building. You found yourself holding your breath until he parked and you got out of the car. The neon lights almost blinded you but Taehyung found your hand to guide you. He took you to the elevator guarded by three heavily armed bodyguards. They all nodded at Taehyung, their eyes only noting your presence before turning away.

Your heart was beating loud and your head began to feel light as the elevator rose to the topmost floor of the building. You had not even noticed but you have been subconsciously squeezing Taehyung's hand in a fidgety repetition as you tried to calm down. You could feel Taehyung's quiet gaze on you all the way up until the elevator door slid open.

When Taehyung let go of your hand to type in the security code for his apartment, you instinctively hugged your bare arms. Your gaze shifted along the narrow corridor, somehow expecting for Kang to appear in front of you.

"Come in," asked Taehyung not ungently but you nearly gasped at the sound of his voice that startled you from your thoughts. He noticed because an even darker frown settled on his eyes.

"Thank you," you said quietly and slipped inside, trying to disguise how scared you really were. But there was no fooling Taehyung.

You took off your heels, now standing much shorter to Taehyung than before. Your eyes scanned his beautiful apartment and still searched for anything that would stand out. Dark and rich earthy colours dominated everywhere you looked, brightened by warm lights and large windows.

Taehyung showed you around to the kitchen and the dining area and the main hallway which led to one of the bathrooms, his office, a guest bedroom and his own bedroom.

You waited whilst Taehyung got you some of his clothes to change into, your eyes scanning the apartment anxiously. You almost jumped when Taehyung reappeared at your side, handing you a pair of sweatpants and a black t-shirt.

You thanked him, squeezing the clothes to your chest. "Can I take a shower?" you asked hesitantly.

"Of course," said Taehyung and opened the door of the bathroom for you. He disappeared quietly, giving you the privacy you needed.

The hot water felt good against your skin and calmed some of your nerves although you were still on pins and needles. You dried yourself and changed into the comfortable clothes Taehyung lent you. Your skin smelled of his bodywash, giving you goosebumps.

You found Taehyung in the living room, sitting elegantly on the sofa. His eyes rose from his phone and took in the sight of you in his clothes. You had to roll up the cuffs of the pants but otherwise they were perfect.

"Feeling better?"

You nodded a little, slowly making your way to the sofa where you sat down as well, not too close, not too far from Taehyung.

"Why did you help me?" you asked hesitantly, your voice barely above a whisper. If this was not a trap as Kang was nowhere to be seen, you could not help but wonder why Taehyung offered his help to you.

Taehyung turned to you, his formidable presence making your stomach twist and your heart give a painful squeeze.

"I like you ... so I helped you," Taehyung said calmly, the tone of his voice smooth and even like molten gold.

I like you.

A shivery breath caught in the back of your throat as you felt the tips of your fingers prickle with needles. Your heart was beating wildly against your chest.

"And you ... You don't want anything in return for ... For helping me?" you asked timidly, studying Taehyung's face as your eyes found his. He paused.

"Like what?" asked Taehyung. You could see it in the somber expression of his face that he could read the thoughts behind your eyes. He knew what you were asking but was offended by it.

You looked away quickly as your entire body suddenly seemed like it was on fire. Your gaze turned to your hands where you picked on the skin around your nails anxiously. You could feel Taehyung's gaze burn into you.

"I don't want anything in return, Y/N," said Taehyung calmly. He got up and ran a hand through his hair. "You should get some rest."

You looked up at him as Taehyung made past you. A pang of guilt cut deep into your chest when you watched his frame disappear down the hallway.

You tried to find some sleep that night but you couldn't. Although the bed was perfect, the temperature just to your liking, it was your mind that was in a tempest and kept you up. Even when you managed to find sleep for a few minutes, your mind replayed Kang's words mingled with Taehyung's like a broken record.

You're never leaving me. Ever. -I like you. -You're never leaving me. Ever. -I like you. You're never—

You woke up with a start, a loud gasp escaping your lungs as you sat up in bed. The guest bedroom was already kissed by daylight, now waking in the shades of creamy white and deep espresso brown instead of shadows appearing everywhere you looked. The room itself could nearly be an apartment in its own right with its ornate loveseat and a matching armchair, with paintings and dressers and lively green plants.

You rolled out of bed still more rested than you went to sleep even though you had an uneasy night. At the least you could think more clearly than yesterday, which also meant that you felt even guiltier than before.

You expected to find Taehyung somewhere in the living area or the kitchen but he was nowhere to be seen. He was not in the bathroom across your room either, which only left his bedroom. Just as you were about to hide back in the guestroom for a while longer, Taehyung appeared on the doorway of his bedroom.

A blush so strong rose to your cheeks that your skin pulsated with fever. Taehyung was in nothing but a pair of trousers, his hair ruffled and his eyes full of sleep as he leaned one of his arms against the door frame beside his head.

"I'll get dressed in a minute," said Taehyung abently, his voice so deep and husky with sleep it made goosebumps rise on your arms and legs.

"Take your time," you managed to utter, now feeling the blush prickle your chest and neck as well. The image of Taehyung's bare chest would not leave your mind no matter how hard you tried.

You waited in the kitchen, pacing and biting your lip, when Taehyung appeared once again. He wore a pair of elegant black trousers and a matching shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows. A silver wristwatch rested on one of his hands, the other one resting snugly in his pocket. His dark eyes found you immediately although he was in urgent need of some coffee.

"Did you get any rest?" you spoke, desperate to cut through the silence.

The espresso machine was already buzzing busily when Taehyung turned to you, leaning against the counter.

"I should be asking you that," said Taehyung huskily, a hint of amusement hiding in his eyes. You did not say anything though but waited for him to go first.

"I didn't sleep much," Taehyung told truthfully.

"Me neither," you agreed. "I couldn't stop thinking ... I ... I shouldn't have said that last night." You looked down for a moment, ashamed of yourself.

"Said what?"

"You helped me and I questioned your intentions," you said desperately, beginning to think Taehyung was torturing you on purpose. But when you looked into his eyes, there was nothing he was not sharing with you.

Taehyung stood up straight and walked over to you, stopping only inches away. He leaned down, his forehead nearly touching yours as a sharp breath caught in your throat. Your heart raced wildly.

"If you weren't you, you would have been right to question my intentions," said Taehyung, both of his hands now hidden in the pockets of his trousers yet his gaze remained burned into yours.

"You are in luck though," he spoke again, sending shivers down your spine. "Because as strange and unusual as I as well find it, my intentions with you are nothing if not pure," Taehyung purred, his eyes filled with unusual warmth.

The espresso machine gave a quiet ring.

"Coffee?"

Jungkook

You arrived at Jungkook's apartment building in the middle of the night. The stress not only of the evening alone but the past couple of months caught up to you. Once the adrenaline of escaping your boyfriend subsided, you could not even bring yourself to talk. The entire ride was filled with not uncomfortable silence although you were still on pins and needles. You had not planned to leave the benefit or your now ex-boyfriend the way you did, much less did you think Jeon would be the person to help you do it. You worried you might have made a wrong decision asking him for help as you glanced at his tattooed knuckles gripping onto the steering wheel and his formidable frown.

You got out of the car the moment the engine died, yearning for a breath of fresh air. You did not get it though as you were in the garage of the apartment building and the air was worse than ever. Instead, you came face to face with men clad in black carrying heavy weapons. The sight made your stomach twist into even tighter knots but it was too late now.

You followed Jungkook into the elevator that eventually rose to the top of the building. The ride made you uneasy, making your head feel as light as a feather. Just as the walls seemed to start closing down on you, the door of the elevator opened following a ring.

Jungkook placed his hand on the side of the door to keep it from closing as you walked out. You waited for him in front of another pair of doors where Jungkook typed in the code of the security lock and had the scanner read his fingerprint.

Jungkook opened the door for you, letting you enter first. He turned on the lights quickly and closed the entrance behind him. The click of the door made you turn around, your eyes darting to his. His eyebrows seemed to be frozen in a frown since you left the benefit.

Jungkook's gaze revisited the place where Kang left his fingerprints, his mind drifting off to dangerous places.

You licked your dry lips and took off your heels that were beginning to dig painfully into your feet. As you rose, you finally took in the sight of Jungkook's apartment. It was a balance of dark and light, of vast emptiness and inviting warmth.

"I'll get you some clothes," said Jungkook as he made past you, the smell of smoke and his perfume lingering on his clothes.

You glanced at the door when Jungkook was out of sight and tried the knob but it was locked, the keypad staring at you blinkingly. You did not intend on leaving, you had nowhere to go, but just being able to have that option ...

Jungkook brought you a pair of grey sweatpants and a soft black t-shirt that you thanked him for. He showed you to the bathroom where you changed and washed off your smudged makeup. Yet once you returned, Jungkook could still see the storm of thoughts behind your eyes.

"What is it?" asked Jungkook not unkindly although his frown curved even grimmer if that was even possible.

"Am I ..." you began, not knowing how to string together the words. The answer that you might get frightened you.

Jungkook's eyes waited with expectation.

"Am I allowed to leave?" you uttered at last, your voice quiet as your gaze shifted between Jungkook's eyes and the buttons of his shirt.

"Why wouldn't you be?" asked Jungkook, a hidden sharpness in his voice that you could point out easily. In the past months, you had learned to pick up on the smallest signals and gestures that could most of the time save you from a difficult argument.

"I don't know," you tried to keep your voice loud enough for him to hear although your hands were wet with cold sweat.

Jungkook stared at you. You were avoiding his eyes, your hands if not your whole body were trembling, your shoulders tense.

"Why did you come with me if you're so scared of me?" asked Jungkook. Your eyes found his as your lips parted.

"I suppose I'm not as scared of you as I am of him," you confessed after a moment not only to Jungkook but to yourself. You looked down, ashamed that you felt that way about someone who so far did everything but hurt you.

Your eyes watered with tears and your chin quivered. You thought about everything Kang told you about Jungkook, and you thought about Kang himself; the thought of him made you sick with fever.

"I'm sorry," you whispered as you shook your head. You tried to push away the tears, tired of crying, but they fell down your cheeks anyway.

"You've been nothing but kind to me ... If it weren't for you ..." you could not even think about it. You hid your eyes behind your hand, holding back the pain in your chest.

"Fuck ..." muttered Jungkook under his breath and pulled you into his arms despite battling with himself not to do it. He could not forget the way you winced from his touch when he led you to his car, but he did not know what else to do.

You did not flinch this time, however. You welcomed the comfort of his embrace, of his arms wrapping around your frame. His chest felt warm beneath your cheek, the sound of his loud heartbeat calming you down.

You did not know how much time had passed or how long the two of you have been standing that way, but it was long enough for you to feel yourself want to fall asleep.

"I'm so tired," you whispered, your eyes closed and your hands still wrapped around Jungkook's waist.

"I know," said Jungkook quietly not to disturb you. He slipped his arms beneath you and picked you up. If you had had but an ounce of energy left, you would have argued against it and insisted to walk alone but you could no longer fight at all, not for anything.

Soon, there was a soft pillow beneath your head and the covers drawn over your shivering body. The exhaustion made you even colder than usual but you fell asleep anyway.

***

When you woke up, the pale sun was shinning into the unknown room. The walls were charcoal grey, the ceiling white with a wall of windows opening from top to bottom to your side. You sat up quickly, not remembering how you got there, not recognizing any of the furniture nor the bed. Your gaze soon fell upon the armchair in the corner of the room. The memories of last night came back to you when you saw Jungkook sleeping in the armchair. He no longer wore a tuxedo but a black hoodie and a pair of sweatpants as he lay sprawled in the armchair.

You remembered crying in Jungkook's arms and hugging him, and you were almost certain he carried you to bed. Heat rushed to your cheeks and neck, painting them red with blush as you wished for the floor to crack open and swallow you. You were rested now, at least more than last night when you were a complete mess of emotions and could think straight.

Your mind drifted to Kang as you wondered what happened at the benefit after you disappeared, the rage and uproar he must have caused.

Your elbow was even sorer than you remembered and the bruise grew darker and more menacing by the hour. You tried to touch it but the brush of fingertips alone was painful.

Although the armchair looked uncomfortable, you wanted to let Jungkook sleep. You could not stop the butterflies from awakening in your stomach when you saw him like that. His face was relaxed, his brows free from the usual frown. Jungkook's arms were crossed lazily across his chest as he breathed softly.

You slipped from the bed quietly, goosebumps rising on your arms in the cold morning air. It was misty and grey outside, the sun now gone completely. You took the soft blanket from the foot of the bed and made your way to Jungkook almost on the tips of your toes. You folded the blanket once and placed it gently over Jungkook, praying that it would not wake him up.

Jungkook remained asleep as you slipped from the guest bedroom and found the bathroom. It made you uneasy to look through his bathroom cabinet but you were in desperate need of a toothbrush. You opened one of the spare ones and borrowed a bit of toothpaste, followed by washing your face and using your fingers for comb when you suddenly heard footsteps in the hallway.

Your gaze shot up to the bathroom door and your heart jumped in your chest. It took you a moment to remind yourself that you were not at home, that you were safe, and Kang was miles away.

When you reached the kitchen, Jungkook was rubbing his tired eyes with his index and thumb as he stood before the buzzing espresso machine.

You wondered why he decided to sleep in the armchair when Jungkook turned around, feeling your gaze burn into his back.

"Hi," you said quietly, a small smile lining your lips.

"Hey," said Jungkook, his voice deep and husky like broken. Goosebumps rose on your arms.

"Coffee?" he offered, fixing his hair by running his fingers through it.

"Please," you said but felt a pang of guilt when you saw the tiredness on his face. You sat down at the counter and poured some milk into your coffee whilst Jungkook watered his espresso to an americano. Just the smell of coffee managed to bring him back from the dead some, although he yearned for a shower and a workout.

"Why did you sleep in the armchair?" you found yourself asking, unable to stop the blush from creeping to your cheeks. You bit your lip, your eyes shifting between Jungkook and your coffee.

Jungkook watched you for a moment, his eyebrows nestling in their usual frown. "You had nightmares."

"I did?" you breathed, not remembering a thing. You shivered from the cold air but you did not notice as you tried to put together the puzzles of your memory.

"You don't remember?" asked Jungkook and set down his nearly empty coffee cup. You looked up at him when his fingers went to the hem of his hoodie as he pulled it off. The t-shirt beneath it rose to the middle of his torso as he did so, sending a wave of heat to your cheeks.

"Here," said Jungkook and handed the hoodie to you.

"No, it's okay—" you reacted quickly but he cut you off.

"Take it," said Jungkook, leaving no room for arguments. You couldn't do anything else but to thank him to which he nodded absent-mindedly.

You slipped on Jungkook's hoodie, still warm and smelling like him. You sank into the comfortable material, your nose buried in the collar of the hoodie. Jungkook did not say anything for a while, making you look up with big eyes as you just woke from your thoughts.

Jungkook was watching you all the while, leaning against the counter at the hip, until your gaze finally rose to him. His dark eyes were filled with amusement, which made you blush. His lips spread into a small smile as he passed by you and headed down the hallway. You stared at his back until he disappeared from your sight, feeling your cheeks pulsate with heat.

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solxamber · 2 days

Text

Cake and Crime - Jade Leech x reader

After a long week of assignments and sleep deprivation, all you wanted to do was satisfy your craving for a specific pastry at your local shady café. What you didn't mean to do was accidentally order a hit on yourself.

It all started with a misunderstanding. To be fair, things like this always seemed to start with a misunderstanding, but this one really took the cake. And, of course, it involved Jade Leech, because why wouldn’t it?

You’d been to the Mostro Lounge before—after all, it was the go-to place for your family gatherings. Azul’s idea of a café-slash-business-operation had gotten buzz, and like everyone else, you found yourself sipping a drink and enjoying the food, none the wiser to the shady dealings that went on behind the scenes.

And why would you know? Despite being an heir of a crime family, you had absolutely no idea that your family was basically the mafia. No one had ever sat you down and said, "Hey, just so you know, we're kind of in the business of making problems disappear."

In hindsight, maybe you should’ve been suspicious when your uncle’s "bakery business" never seemed to actually bake anything, or when your aunt talked about "solving problems" with a knowing wink. But you chalked it up to eccentricity. After all, who wouldn’t believe their family was just full of quirky folks?

This week was a disaster for you. Everything that could possibly go wrong had gone wrong. You hadn't slept in three days and had about five papers due in two. So, you really needed a pick-me-up, and where better to go than your usual place?

Of course, when you wandered into the Mostro Lounge for your usual drink, Jade Leech, with his ever-present smile, was behind the counter, asking in his polite way, “What can I get for you today?”

Without thinking much, you let out a long, exhausted sigh and said, “You know what? I could really use something sweet. Do you guys do special orders? Like, something custom?”

Jade, ever the picture of politeness, raised an eyebrow, his smile polite but predatory. “Special order, you say?”

You nodded. Maybe they’d have what you were craving. "I heard you guys can make it happen."

Jade’s smile widened ever so slightly, and you swore his sharp teeth glinted under the dim lighting. “Ah, yes. Special orders.” He leaned in, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “And what exactly were you looking to order?”

You thought for a second before blurting out, “I’ve been craving a Thai tea pastry with cream cheese. Maybe with boba, too?”

Jade paused, his eyes glinting for just a moment before his usual grin returned. “A Thai tea pastry with cream cheese, you say?”

You nodded, leaning on the counter, not noticing the flicker of interest in his expression.

“And who is the lucky recipient of this… special treat?” he asked.

You shot him a confused look before pointing at yourself. "It's for me."

“Of course,” Jade replied, already scribbling in his little notepad. “Consider it handled. You'll receive your delivery in a few hours.”

Handled. Now, at the time, you hadn’t thought much of that word. You figured Jade was just being friendly, efficient, the perfect worker he always was. So, naturally, after putting in your "order," you headed back to your family’s estate, feeling strangely lighter.

Later that night, as you sat down for dinner with your brothers, you casually brought it up. “Hey, guys, I put in an order at Mostro Lounge today. Jade said he’s going to ‘handle’ everything for me.”

Your two older brothers, hardened men who’d seen more than their fair share of the family’s business, froze mid-bite. Forks clattered against plates as they slowly turned to stare at you with wide, horrified eyes.

“W-What?” the eldest sputtered, his voice rising several octaves. “You… you put in an order?”

“Yeah,” you replied, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing. “I asked for a Thai tea pastry with cream cheese and white boba. You know, to get rid of my craving.”

The middle brother choked on his drink, sputtering wildly. “You… WHAT?!”

Your confusion only deepened. “I just needed some stress relief! It’s not that big of a deal. Jade said he’d take care of it.”

They stared at you in disbelief, as if you’d just told them you’d sold your soul to a demon—which, considering who you’d been talking to, wasn’t far from the truth.

The eldest brother put his hands on the table, looking like he was about to have a mental breakdown. “Do you even know what you just did?”

Your other brother, slightly more composed but clearly panicking, started pacing. “Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no…”

Now, it was your turn to look concerned. “Okay, what is going on? Why are you both freaking out?”

The eldest brother ran his hands through his hair, exasperated. “You… you used a code, you idiot!”

“A… code?” You blinked. “What kind of code?”

Your middle brother, still pacing, stopped long enough to stare at you incredulously. “*Thai tea cake with cream cheese*?! That’s not a pastry order! That’s a request to kill someone! It’s the ‘break their legs but don’t kill them quickly’ code! And white boba means 'make it as painful as possible!'”

You gaped, your stomach dropping as realization hit. “Wait, WHAT?”

Your eldest brother slowly knelt in front of you and asked, “Did you mention who the order is for?”

When you slowly nodded and pointed at yourself, his face dropped, and he let out a long-suffering sigh.

Your middle brother groaned, shaking his head. “And you told Jade Leech—the most terrifying guy in Mostro—to ‘handle it’?!”

Panic set in as you finally started piecing it together. “Wait, so I didn’t just… order a cake?”

Your eldest brother gave you a deadpan look. “No, you didn’t. You ordered a hit. On yourself.”

You ordered a hit. On yourself.

You stared, wide-eyed, as the words sank in. “Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no…”

The middle brother waved his arms frantically. “Yeah, that’s what I’ve been saying!”

Jumping to your feet, you knocked your chair back and grabbed your coat. “I need to fix this! How do I fix this?!”

The eldest sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. “You need to go back and cancel the order before Jade actually follows through!”

Which led to your current mad dash back to the Mostro Lounge, heart pounding as you practically burst through the doors. Breathless, you ran up to the counter where Jade stood, his ever-pleasant smile already in place.

“Ah, welcome back,” Jade said, his tone smooth and unbothered. “I was just about to finalize your… order.”

“No!” You flailed, hands waving wildly. “I need to cancel it! Cancel the whole thing! I didn’t mean it!”

Jade’s eyes twinkled with amusement as he leaned on the counter, his sharp teeth barely peeking through his smile. “Cancel it? Are you sure? You seemed quite certain earlier.”

“I’m very sure!” you said, desperate. “It was a huge misunderstanding!”

Jade hummed thoughtfully, his fingers tapping the counter. “Misunderstanding or not, it was quite an amusing order. I must admit, it’s not every day someone orders a hit on themselves.”

You slumped against the counter, groaning. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

Jade chuckled, a low, amused sound. “Not at all. But… I suppose I can let this one slide. After all,” he added with a wicked grin, “it’s far too entertaining to see you squirm like this.”

You sighed in relief, but Jade wasn’t done. He leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Though, I must ask… are you certain you don’t want anything else? Perhaps a ‘shaken not stirred’? Or maybe a ‘dark roast with extra cream’?”

You squinted, half-curious, half-terrified. “Uh… what do those mean?”

Jade’s grin widened. “The first is full-blown sabotage. The second? Well, let’s just say that’s for when you want someone to ‘vanish.’ Permanently.”

You shuddered. “Yeah, definitely not. Just cancel the ‘pastry,’ and we’ll pretend this never happened.”

Jade straightened, still smiling. “As you wish.”

Relief started to wash over you, but the look in Jade’s eyes—sharp, calculating, amused—told you that this situation was far from over.

“So, it’s… canceled, right?” you asked, feeling a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t haunt you forever.

Jade tilted his head, considering you for a moment. His smile never faltered, but there was a glint of something more behind it—something that made you feel like you were still caught in some kind of trap. “Hmm… I did say I would cancel it, yes. But I must admit, it’s not often I receive such an… intriguing request. Canceling something this entertaining doesn’t come without a price.”

You blinked. “Wait, a price? I thought you said you’d let it slide!”

Jade’s grin widened, the sharp edges of his teeth visible as he stepped out from behind the counter, moving closer. “Oh, I am letting it slide. But everything comes with a little negotiation, don’t you think?”

Your heart skipped a beat. Jade was standing much closer than you anticipated, and the way his mismatched eyes gleamed under the soft lounge lighting had you frozen in place. You weren’t sure if you were more terrified or intrigued at this point.

“And… what kind of negotiation are we talking about?” you asked warily.

Jade chuckled softly, his voice almost a purr. “Oh, nothing too extreme, I assure you. You see, I was thinking…” He paused, letting the moment stretch out as his gaze lingered on you, the tension in the air growing by the second. “…that you could spend a little time with me. Consider it compensation for the… cancelation.”

Your mouth went dry. “Time with you?”

He nodded, his smile still soft, but the teasing look in his eyes told you that this was no ordinary request. “You’ve caught my interest, after all. It’s only fair that I take the opportunity to get to know you better, don’t you think?”

You swallowed hard, trying to process what he was saying. “So… if I spend time with you, we’ll call it even? No hit, no thai tea cake, nothing?”

“Exactly,” Jade replied smoothly. “Just a pleasant exchange. I’d say it’s quite a generous offer, wouldn’t you?”

Generous? Sure. But the way he was looking at you made it feel like you were walking into another trap—though maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t one you’d mind falling into.

You hesitated, glancing at the door and then back at Jade. “And what would… spending time with you entail?”

Jade’s grin softened slightly, becoming a bit more genuine. “Oh, nothing too outrageous. A few meals, perhaps. A walk through the botanical gardens. Maybe I’ll even show you some of the more… exclusive areas of the Mostro Lounge.”

Your heart was pounding now, and you couldn’t tell if it was from nerves, excitement, or a mix of both. Spending time with Jade Leech sounded like playing with fire, but… well, you couldn’t deny the curiosity that had sparked inside you.

“Well…” you said slowly, glancing up at him. “I guess that’s better than being taken out by one of your ‘special services.’”

Jade chuckled again, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Much better, I’d say. Shall we start now?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Now?”

Jade stepped back slightly, gesturing toward the lounge’s main seating area. “Why not? I’m free for the evening, and I believe you’ve already cleared your schedule, haven’t you?”

There was no escaping this, was there? But, surprisingly, you didn’t really want to. With a deep breath, you nodded, a small smile creeping onto your face. “Okay. I guess I’m yours for the evening.”

Jade’s grin returned, bright and sharp. “I’ll hold you to that.”

And as he led you to one of the more private booths in the lounge, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe—just maybe—this was the most dangerous, yet exciting, order you’d ever made.

Masterlist

#jade leech x reader #jade x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twisted wonderland

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pandapetals · 1 day

Text

Save A Horse, Ride A Cowboy

cowboy logan howlett x afab!reader - cowboy logan, reader's car broke down, cute, fluff, teasing, sexual tension, no y/n used, no reader description

Your car broke down in the middle of nowhere. Lucky for you a cowboy came to the rescue.

read on Ao3

A truck flew by, kicking up a cloud of dirt from the dusty road that swirled around you. You groaned in frustration, covering your eyes with your arm as you cursed your luck. It had already been an hour since your car broke down in the middle of nowhere, and the tow truck was nowhere in sight. Your phone barely had a signal, and the heat of the late afternoon sun was starting to press down on you, making everything worse.

You leaned against the side of your car, fanning yourself with your hand and wondering how long you’d have to wait out here when you heard the distinct sound of hooves—slow, steady, coming closer.

Frowning, you turned your head toward the sound, and your breath caught in your throat when you saw him.

A man—tall, broad-shouldered, and riding a horse like he owned the whole damn desert—was coming your way. He wore a weathered Stetson hat, shielding his eyes from the sun, and his muscular frame was clad in a simple white t-shirt and faded jeans, the fabric stretched taut over his biceps. Dust kicked up behind him as he approached, and for a second, you wondered if this was some kind of mirage.

He pulled the reins, the horse slowing to a stop beside your car. You couldn’t help but stare as he swung his leg over the saddle and dismounted, his boots hitting the ground with a quiet thud. Up close, he was even more rugged than you’d imagined—unkempt stubble lining his jaw, sharp eyes glinting from under the brim of his hat, and a rough edge to his presence that made your heart beat just a little faster.

“Car trouble?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly, like he didn’t talk much but when he did, people listened.

You nodded, trying to find your voice as you glanced between him and your broken-down car. “Yeah. It just... stopped. I’ve been waiting for a tow truck, but...” You trailed off, gesturing to the empty, sun-scorched road.

The cowboy gave a slow nod, his eyes flicking over your car, then back to you. “Tow truck ain’t comin’ out here anytime soon. You’re lucky I came along.”

There was a confidence in his voice, a rough kind of assurance that made your pulse quicken. He wasn’t wrong. The road was empty as far as the eye could see, and the only other company you’d had in the last hour was the tumbleweed and dust swirling through the air.

“Well,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, “I’m definitely glad someone came along.”

He tipped his hat back, giving you a better view of his face—strong jawline, slightly weathered from the sun, and those sharp, intense eyes that seemed to look right through you. You shifted under his gaze, suddenly aware of how close he was standing.

“I’m Logan,” he said, holding out a hand.

Your name got caught in your throat before finally spitting it out, shaking his hand, and feeling the roughness of his palm against yours. The touch lingered for just a moment longer than necessary, the heat from his skin seeping into yours before he let go.

Logan crouched down to take a look under the hood, and you couldn’t help but admire the way his muscles moved under that worn t-shirt. His broad back flexed as he peered into the engine, his hat casting a shadow over his face. You stood there, arms crossed, trying to play it cool, but it was hard not to notice just how damn attractive he was—rough, rugged, the kind of guy you didn’t expect to find out in the middle of nowhere.

After a moment, Logan stood up, wiping his hands on his jeans as he turned to face you, his expression unreadable. “Alternator’s shot. Ain’t gonna get this thing moving without some work.”

Your stomach sank. “Great. And here I was hoping it’d be something simple.”

Logan smirked, just a little, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “Nothin’s ever simple out here.”

You couldn’t help but smile back, even though the situation wasn’t exactly ideal. There was something about the way he looked at you—sharp, assessing, but not unfriendly—that made your heart beat a little faster. The air between you felt charged like there was more happening than just a conversation about a broken car.

“So,” you asked, raising an eyebrow, “what’s your suggestion, cowboy?”

Logan’s eyes flicked to you, his smirk deepening. “Well, unless you want to wait another couple of hours for that tow truck—if it even shows up—I could give you a ride.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the way he said it, slow and deliberate, like there was a second meaning to his words. The way he was looking at you, his gaze heavy and unreadable, sent a ripple of heat through your body.

“A ride?” you echoed, glancing over at his horse, the only mode of transportation around for miles.

Logan’s lips twitched like he could see where your mind had gone. “Yeah. A ride.”

You hesitated for a second, your eyes trailing over him—the way his shirt clung to his chest, the glint of his belt buckle, the confident set of his shoulders. This man was a stranger, sure, but something about the way he looked at you, the quiet intensity in his voice, made you feel like you could trust him.

Besides, it wasn’t like you had many options.

“Alright,” you said, crossing your arms and giving him a small, teasing smile. “I guess I’ll take you up on that offer.”

Logan’s smirk widened just a little, a flicker of something darker flashing in his eyes. He led his horse closer, holding the reins with one hand as he turned back to you. “Climb on. I’ll help you up.”

You approached cautiously, suddenly very aware of the heat between you as Logan stepped closer, placing one large, rough hand on your waist. His touch was firm but gentle, and when he lifted you onto the saddle, your body brushed against his—just for a second, but long enough to send a jolt of electricity through you.

Logan swung up behind you with ease, his body pressing against your back, and you had to bite your lip to stop yourself from reacting to the feel of him so close. His arm reached around you to take the reins, and you felt the heat radiating from him, his breath warm against your neck as he leaned in just slightly.

“You alright?” he asked, his voice low and rough in your ear.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak as your heart pounded in your chest. The tension between you was almost unbearable, thick enough to cut with a knife. You could feel every inch of him behind you—the strength of his chest, the solid weight of his body—and it was doing things to you that you weren’t ready to admit.

Logan clicked his tongue, and the horse started forward, slow and steady. The ride was quiet, but the silence only seemed to amplify the heat between you. Every now and then, Logan’s arm would brush against yours, and each time, it sent a shiver down your spine.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of trying to ignore the tension simmering between you, Logan spoke, his voice a low rumble. “You gonna tell me why you were out here all alone?”

You swallowed, glancing over your shoulder at him, your pulse quickening again as his eyes met yours—sharp, intense, and filled with something that made your stomach flutter.

“Does it matter?” you replied, your voice softer than you intended.

Logan’s lips twitched into that familiar smirk. “Maybe not. Just seems like trouble finds you easy.”

You raised an eyebrow, unable to stop the smile that crept onto your lips. “And what about you? Seems like you found me just fine.”

Logan chuckled, his hand tightening on the reins just slightly, his body pressing a little closer to yours. “Maybe I like trouble.”

You shivered at the way he said it, your breath catching in your throat as the tension between you grew thicker and heavier. You weren’t sure how much longer you could ignore the pull between you—the heat, the electricity, the way your body seemed to respond to every small movement of his.

Logan’s breath was warm against your ear as he leaned in, his voice low and husky. “Tell me, darlin’... you enjoyin’ the ride?”

Your heart skipped a beat, the double meaning of his words hitting you hard. You turned your head just slightly, your eyes meeting his, and at that moment, the air between you crackled with something undeniable.

“Yeah,” you whispered, your voice breathy. “I am.”

Logan’s smirk deepened, his eyes darkening with something that made your pulse race. “Good.”

With that, he clicked his tongue again, and the horse picked up speed, the world around you blurring as the tension between you reached its breaking point. The ride might have been over soon, but something told you this was just the beginning.

#fluff #logan howlett #wolverine #logan howlett x you #james logan howlett #x men wolverine #x men logan #logan x reader #cowboy logan #mcu #marvel #wolverine x reader #logan howlett fanfiction #james howlett #cowboy wolverine #x reader #logan x you #logan xmen #x men

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its-avalon-08 · 3 hours

Note

Hi. I was thinking of something with Lando Norris where Lando has been secretive and hiding his phone and everything and reader thinks he's cheating on her and feels miserable thinking she's not enough. And when she asks Lando about it he feels extremely guilty because he was actually planning to PROPOSE!!

new passwords and new surnames (ln4)

✦ pairing - lando norris x female!reader

✦ genre - angst, miscommunication, tears, fluff

Y/N sat on the couch, her knees pulled to her chest as she absentmindedly scrolled through social media. Her heart wasn’t in it, not really. It hadn’t been for weeks now. She couldn't help but replay the small, almost imperceptible changes in Lando's behavior that had slowly eroded her peace of mind.

It started so innocently. One night, while they were lying in bed, she noticed Lando's phone screen light up with a notification. His hand shot out faster than usual to grab it, turning it face-down. He flashed her a smile, that easy-going grin she adored, but something was off.

"You okay?" she had asked then, her voice soft and questioning.

"Yeah, love. Just a text from the team. Nothing important." He kissed her forehead, his lips lingering a little longer than necessary as if to erase any doubt. But the doubt had settled in that moment and had been growing ever since.

Tonight, it was all too much. The weight of uncertainty sat on her chest like a heavy stone. She couldn’t ignore how distant Lando had been lately. He changed the password on his phone, something he hadn’t done in years. When they were out together, he'd tuck his phone away whenever she got close or make some excuse to leave the room to answer calls. He laughed it off when she asked why he was being so secretive.

And she wanted to believe him. Desperately. But each time, the gnawing ache in her gut got worse. She wasn't paranoid—she was trying not to be. But the constant second-guessing was eating her alive.

"What if he's seeing someone else?" The thought pierced through her mind, sharper and more painful every time she allowed it to surface. She hated herself for even thinking it, but she couldn’t stop.

Y/N blinked, her vision blurring as tears welled up. She swallowed the lump in her throat, willing herself not to cry. Not yet.

She replayed another moment in her head. A few days ago, Lando had left for a race weekend. He’d been unusually flustered before leaving, fumbling around their shared apartment, misplacing his keys and wallet, which wasn’t like him. He barely looked her in the eyes when he kissed her goodbye, murmuring a quick, "Love you," before disappearing out the door. And later that night, when she texted him, he responded hours later with a vague, "Sorry, busy."

“Busy with what?” she whispered aloud to herself, the silence of the apartment engulfing her. Her mind filled with images of him with someone else—someone better, someone who wasn’t her.

She wasn’t enough, was she?

The thought felt like a punch to her gut. Maybe I’m not interesting anymore. Maybe he found someone who gets him better. Lando was famous, rich, and could have anyone he wanted. She wasn’t special. Not in the way some gorgeous model or influencer could be.

Y/N shifted on the couch, pressing her palms against her forehead, trying to stop the spiraling thoughts. I should ask him. No, I can’t. What if I’m wrong? What if he’s not cheating? The internal debate was killing her.

Suddenly, she heard the familiar jingle of keys at the door. Her stomach dropped. Lando was home.

He walked into the living room, looking tired but smiling at her, his blue eyes lighting up in that way that used to make her heart race. Now, all she felt was a deep ache.

"Hey, babe," he said, leaning down to kiss her cheek. "Miss me?"

She nodded but couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes. Instead, she fixed her gaze on her hands, now trembling slightly in her lap. "Yeah. How was the day?"

"Busy as hell. Meetings, more meetings, and then training," he chuckled lightly. "I could use a beer."

She nodded again, offering a weak smile. "I'll grab it for you." She needed to move, to do anything to avoid this unbearable tension.

As she stood up, her phone buzzed on the coffee table. Lando’s eyes darted to it, but his expression remained calm. He watched as she crossed the room to grab his beer from the fridge, her movements stiff and robotic. The distance between them felt like an ocean.

Her hands were cold when she handed him the drink, and for a moment, she debated whether to say anything. Should she ask him now? Her heart raced with anxiety as she stood awkwardly, her fingers gripping the fabric of her shirt as though it could keep her from unraveling completely.

She took a shaky breath and finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper, “Lando… is there something going on? Something you're not telling me?"

He froze, his hand halfway to his mouth, beer bottle in hand. His eyes flickered with surprise, maybe even guilt, and that tiny moment of hesitation broke her. She saw it, clear as day.

“What do you mean?” His voice was cautious, like he was trying to tread lightly.

Y/N swallowed hard. “You’ve been so secretive lately. You’re hiding your phone, leaving the room to take calls. You changed your password… You—” her voice cracked, the vulnerability bleeding through. “You’ve never done that before.”

Lando set his beer down on the table, his expression shifting from surprise to something darker. “Y/N, no—”

“I can’t keep ignoring it!” she interrupted, her voice louder now, the emotion bubbling up uncontrollably. “I’m trying to be calm, I’m trying to trust you, but it feels like you’re hiding something from me! And I—” She paused, taking a sharp breath as tears threatened to spill over. “I keep wondering if… if I’m not enough for you anymore.”

Lando’s eyes widened in horror, and for a moment, he looked like he was about to say something, but she kept going.

“Am I losing you, Lando? Is there someone else? Because if there is, just tell me, okay? I don’t think I can take this anymore. I feel like I’m going crazy.”

The tears finally slipped down her cheeks, and she quickly wiped them away, frustrated with herself for breaking like this in front of him. But she couldn’t hold it in any longer. It had been eating her alive.

Lando stood frozen, his mouth slightly open as if trying to form words, but nothing came out. Guilt flooded his features, and Y/N’s heart shattered a little more seeing it.

She had been right all along, hadn’t she?

And now, she was about to lose him.

Chapter Two: The Unveiling

Lando took a step closer, his expression shifting from shock to concern as he reached out, brushing his thumb against her cheek to catch a tear. “Y/N, no… You’re everything to me. I would never cheat on you. I promise. It’s just…” He hesitated, his eyes searching hers as if trying to find the right words. “It’s just been a lot.”

She looked away, trying to compose herself, but the knot in her throat tightened. “Then why all the secrecy? Why the phone? I feel like I’m losing my mind here.”

His gaze softened, and he took a deep breath. “I know I’ve been distant, but please, let me explain. It’s not what you think. I’ve just been… planning something.”

“Planning what?” Her voice cracked, the confusion mixing with the hurt that had been building for weeks. “What could possibly require all this secrecy?”

Lando stepped back, taking her hands in his, squeezing them tightly as if grounding himself. “Y/N, I’ve been trying to plan the perfect way to ask you something. And I thought… I thought if I could surprise you, it would be amazing.”

Her heart raced. “What do you mean?”

He paused, his eyes shining with emotion. “I wanted to propose to you, but I didn’t want to ruin the surprise. I thought I could keep it under wraps until the right moment. I was going to do it this weekend, and I’ve just been so caught up in making it perfect that I didn’t realize how my actions were affecting you.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, her mind spinning as she tried to process his words. “You… you wanted to propose?”

“Yes!” Lando exclaimed, his voice a mixture of relief and excitement. “I love you, Y/N, and I want to spend my life with you. I just got so caught up in the planning that I forgot how important it is to communicate. I never wanted you to feel this way.”

Her heart fluttered at his words, but the hurt still lingered. “But you were hiding things from me, Lando. It felt like you were pushing me away.”

“I know, and I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice earnest. “I was being an idiot. I didn’t want to ruin the surprise, but I ended up making everything worse.” He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I should have trusted you enough to share this with you. I didn’t want you to feel like you weren’t enough, because you are everything to me.”

Y/N’s heart softened at his sincerity, but the tears still streamed down her face. “You’re really serious about this?”

“More than anything,” he said, his voice trembling with emotion. “You deserve to know how much I love you, and I should’ve told you sooner. You make me a better person, and I can’t imagine my life without you.”

Just as Y/N was beginning to comprehend the gravity of his words, Lando knelt down on one knee, taking a small velvet box from his pocket. Her heart raced, and her breath caught in her throat as she realized what was happening.

“Y/N,” he said, looking up at her with all the sincerity in the world. “Will you marry me? Will you be my partner in this wild life? I promise to never hide anything from you again. I want us to share everything, no more secrets.”

For a moment, time stood still. The world around them faded, and all that mattered was the two of them in this small living room filled with unspoken fears and newfound hope. She looked into his eyes, and all she saw was love—pure, unwavering love.

“I—” she began, her voice breaking as more tears slipped down her cheeks. “I thought I was losing you, Lando. I thought I wasn’t enough.”

“You’re more than enough, Y/N,” he said, his voice steady. “You’re everything to me. So, what do you say?”

She blinked, her heart swelling as she finally let the reality of his proposal sink in. “Yes! Yes, I’ll marry you!”

Lando’s face broke into a huge smile as he slipped the ring onto her finger, a beautiful band that sparkled in the soft light. She gasped, lifting her hand to get a better look. It was perfect—simple, elegant, just like the love they shared.

“Really? You mean it?” he asked, rising to his feet, his eyes shining with joy.

“Yes!” she exclaimed, laughter spilling from her lips as she hugged him tightly. “I can’t believe you were hiding this from me!”

“I know, I know,” he chuckled, holding her close. “I’m so sorry for everything. I promise to do better.”

As they pulled away, she looked into his eyes, the weight of her earlier fears lifting. “Just promise me one thing, Lando.”

“Anything,” he replied, his gaze intense.

“From now on, no more secrets, okay? We talk about everything.”

“Deal,” he said, grinning. “I can’t wait to spend forever with you, love.”

With that, they embraced again, the tension that had filled their apartment melting away, leaving only the warmth of their love and the promise of a beautiful future together.

112 notes · View notes

goodlucktai · 10 hours

Note

9, raph and leo?

dialogue prompts

9. “I know, I know it hurts.”

When Raph was eight years old, the twins decided they needed their own bedrooms and, like with all other things they had ever decided, they made it everyone else’s problem. As a united front, the two of them had the capacity to wear down a squad of Navy Seals in a manner of days, let alone one overtired single father.

The campaign for separate bedrooms turned out to be a long con. Donnie had been denied an evil science laboratory by Splinter multiple times, on the grounds of it being dangerous, and Donnie being seven, and evil being bad. But a room of his own could be whatever he wanted, and he wanted a lab.

It took most of a week for Splinter to discover that the twins were still doubled up in the room that was ostensibly Leo’s while Donnie’s was being used for nefarious purposes, but by then Donnie had installed an electronic lock on the door that he built out of components gutted from old kitchen appliances and was fully ready to die on that hill.

While Pops and Donnie were locked in a contest of wills that would ultimately go in Donnie’s favor (because Splinter’s achilles heel back then—and even now—was that he thought little turtles at their most sulky and unreasonable were just adorable) Raphie had looked at Leo with a confused frown on his face.

“How come you went along with it, Lee? You didn’t even get your own room.”

Leo shrugged, bright gold eyes shining with interest as he watched his twin and his father argue back and forth. He was following it carefully, probably ready to join in if it looked like Donnie was going to lose—more engaged than he ever was playing video games or flipping through comics.

At the time, all Leo said was, “Just wanted to see if I could.”

Raph thought it was because he was a troublemaker, and he maintained that idea up until Mikey—intuitive beyond his years, even as a sweet little six year old—said he figured it was just that Leo’s head went as crazy fast as Donnie’s did, only in ways that didn’t involve breaking and building things.

A full decade later, Raph knows Mikey was right on the money. Looking back, he sees a kid who was wickedly smart and terribly understimulated. Leo didn’t create trouble for the heck of it, he just liked having problems to solve. He wanted conversations and tricks and puzzles, he needed hoops to jump through like dolphins did on TV, or else he’d get cranky and sneaky.

Their world became a much simpler, more peaceful place once Leo got his first phone and discovered an online chess app with a leaderboard.

All this to say, Leo has had a mind for strategy since before he could talk in full sentences. He’s a natural-born leader, and after the failed Krang invasion, he really stepped up and took it seriously. Raph is so proud of him he doesn’t have words big enough to contain the size and shape of it all. It isn’t as hard as he had imagined it would be to let go of the reins and give Leo the room he needs to shine.

Some days are better than others. For the most part, Leo says jump and his brothers don’t even ask how high, they just shoot for the rafters. Their teamwork is cohesive, as solid as it was when they initially realized their ninpo, and Raph thinks he’d feel sorry for the Shredder if that guy showed his face in their town again.

But there are also days like today, when Leo says something that Raph’s big brother meter pings as Leo being silly, stirring shit up for lack of better thing to do, and he doesn’t linger on it past that initial knee-jerk impression.

They’re working with a group of mutants out of Hell’s Kitchen, mutants who are walking the line between vigilantism and outright crime. They’re rough around the edges, but good-natured for the most part. The turtles kept bumping into that other group as they crisscrossed around the city until finally their leader, Old Hob, said, “Why don’t we just get on the same program instead of stepping on each other’s heels?” and a tentative partnership was formed.

It’s been a week since then, and in that time Raph and his brothers have been firmly adopted by the grown-up mutants, who ask pointed questions about what time they went to bed the night before and whether or not they had a decent breakfast and how their online classes are going.

“This must be what having overbearing aunties is like,” Donnie said to April on the phone none-too-quietly, and Sally, feline mutant and aforementioned overbearing auntie, knocked her knuckles on his battleshell reprovingly. But that about summed it up.

There was one spanner in the works, and that was Liam.

——

“Anyone else getting bad vibes from that guy by the way?” Leo says one day.

There’s something performative about it, his usual pomp and charisma with a plastic edge. Mikey tilts his head like a service dog who just caught the scent of a potential medical emergency. Donnie looks up from his phone, eyes keen the way they only are when he and his twin are about to communicate with the telepathy they’ll deny they have.

But Raph is having a bad pain day, and his well of patience for shenanigans is much shallower than it normally is.

“Leon, don’t start,” he says, rubbing the slider’s head playfully to take any sting out of the dismissal. “If I have to put up with any middle child nonsense today I’m gonna scream.”

There’s a beat, his second-youngest brother visibly hesitating on a mental fork in the road. He’s gotten so good about being forthcoming but his first impulse is still to play along, deny, conceal-don’t-feel. He still has this idea in his head of what a good leader is supposed to be, and he’s still willing to whittle parts of himself away that don’t fit that mold.

To his credit, Leo tries again. “I don’t like him,” he says with less certainty.

“You don’t have to be best friends with the guy,” Raph replies. There’s enough warning in his tone that Leo knows to drop it. “Just get along until we go home.”

He works his shoulder, trying to do something about the solid ache it’s become, and Leo’s eyes drop to the mass of scarring there and then flit away. He starts to outline the route their patrol is going to take, reaching into his belt bag for the jar of Tiger Balm he’s taken to carrying with him and handing it over to Raph as he talks.

Raph smiles, the warmth in his chest ballooning up to swallow the impending impatience and annoyance brought out by pain. That warmth stays with him through their whole run, even as Donnie video-calls April and deadpans “POV you’re tailing some guy who didn’t get the memo that armed robbery is cringe as hell,” even as Mikey goes out of his way to jump and tumble off a fire escape in time to give Mondo a high-five as he skates by in the opposite direction, even as Leo progressively gets quieter the closer they get to their two AM check-in at the Mutanimals’ railyard base.

Looking back, Raph can count all the red flags he missed and hates himself a little more for each one. Leo sometimes causes problems for fun, and he likes to see what trouble he can get away with or get himself out of, and he is a downright menace to society when he’s bored—but he’s good. He’s sweet, and charming, and wants to help. He wouldn’t have raised an issue with the other group of mutants, potentially cutting ties with useful allies, unless he had a decent reason to.

And that reason, Raph discovers that night—after information has been exchanged and all that's left is to hang out at the base watching TV and playing table tennis until Splinter inevitably texts to remind his sons of their curfew—is Liam.

He doubles back into the meeting room where he left his phone and sees the goose mutant has put himself between Leo and the only exit, head lowered on a serpentine neck, beak open to show a flash of sharp teeth in a display that Raph’s animal hindbrain reads clearly as threat.

His grip on the doorframe causes it to crack.

“Leo,” he says in a voice he doesn’t recognize.

His little brother’s head jerks up, half-hopeful, half-disbelieving. Later, Raph will hate himself for putting even a sliver of doubt in Leo’s mind, for unknowingly invalidating his feelings. Leo should never be surprised that his big brother showed up for him. He should never have been left to fend for himself in a situation that made him uncomfortable, especially after he found the courage to be upfront about it.

“C’mere,” Raph says, lifting an arm—a little turtle’s cue to tuck themselves safely against Raph’s side.

Whatever his expression is doing, it’s caused dead silence to blanket the room like a foot of packed snow. Liam looks markedly unhappy to see Raphael standing there, but Leo all but runs to meet him.

A strategist, a faceman, a leader, and barely seventeen years old.

“We were just talking,” Liam says with a lightness that rings as false.

“Next time I find out you and my brother were just talking, I’ll wring your skinny neck,” Raph replies, matching his tone. Liam may be twice Raph’s age, but he’s half Raph’s size, and Raph has gone head-to-head with the Krang general and the Shredder and walked it off each time. Raph is fully prepared, in this moment, to murder this fucking goose.

Leo taps on Raph’s carapace, just as one of his violent inner voices is lifting its head in the back of his brain and considering making an appearance. On Leo’s end, a warning that someone else is coming from down the hall. On Raph’s end, a reminder that his first priority is the one he’s holding.

He turns, keeping Leo beside him, in time to see Hob appear around the corner. The cat mutant stops dead in his tracks, slitted eyes moving from Raph, down to Leo, to the doorway beside them, and back again.

“Problem?”

“We’re going home,” Raph says, a rumble in his voice he wouldn’t know how to temper even if he wanted to. “And we’re not coming back. Don’t call us unless someone’s dying or there’s another alien invasion.”

“Knock on wood,” Leo mumbles near-silently.

Old Hob doesn’t answer right away. It’s impossible to tell what the older mutant is thinking on a good day, outwardly recalcitrant and unfriendly, even though he has never snapped at Mikey’s cheerful rambling or Leo’s wheedling attempts to goad him into yet another chess match or even Donnie’s accidental ninpo-related shortage of every appliance in the Mutanimals’ kitchen. He and Sally and Ray and Herman all go out of their way to make their base comfortable and accessible to the turtles and Mondo and Pete, like it really matters to them that the younger mutants have a safe place tucked away that they can fall back on.

And Raph had appreciated that, up until now. Up until they proved it wasn’t safe, actually. Up until he’d seen a grown man leering meanly at his baby brother, just because he thought he could keep getting away with it.

When Hob does speak, all he says is, “Get home safe, boys.”

Raph shoulders around him, and collects Donnie and Mikey from the main room immediately. Mikey says, “Woah, are you guys okay?” and Donnie shoots a poisonous look behind them, like if he glares hard enough he can see back in time to what happened to put those expressions on Leo and Raph’s faces.

“We’re peachy, Miguelito,” Leo says. “Just a difference of opinion.”

“Stay out of Hell’s Kitchen until I say so,” Raph adds sternly.

Raph tells dad about Liam when they get home, because there is no universe where that doesn’t happen, and Leo immediately gets hauled into Splinter’s room for what sounds like a very serious conversation. Raph, Donnie and Mikey cluster shamelessly outside the door to eavesdrop, and some frightened thing in Raph’s heart lets out the breath it’s been holding when Leo says, “Nothing happened, papa, I promise. He was just weird.”

“Let him be weird to my Baby Blue one more time and I will show him exactly why your father was the undisputed Battle Nexus champion,” Splinter says. He cups Leo’s face and rubs his thumb over a striped cheek, as if he’d like to keep his son right there where no one had the capacity to hurt him. “Thank you for telling us. I’m so proud of you. I will actually kill him if he looks at you again.”

Leonardo smiles brightly, daddy’s boy of the family and glutton for attention that he is, those leftover dregs of anxiety in his eyes finally melting away.

“I think we should let dad kill him,” Donnie announces, eyes icy, tone flat.

“Nah,” Mikey says, disingenuously cheerful. “Next time we run into Liam I’m setting him the fuck on fire!”

“Language,” Raph scolds by rote, but his heart isn’t in it.

He can’t get that scene he walked in on back at the railyard out of his head. He can’t help thinking what if something worse had happened because I didn’t listen?

It feels like there’s a ghost in his chest, rattling his heart. He’s haunted by the what if.

——

After dinner, Leo looks at Raph meaningfully and points at the infirmary. Doctor Leo’s orders supersede all others, 100% of the time, so Raphael sighs and surrenders his controller to Mikey’s grabby hands without bothering to make the token argument. He keeps driving Princess Peach off the track anyway.

“Have you been stretching?” Leo says, feeling along Raph’s upper arm, where the muscles are visibly knotted. Even his careful touch hurts—that whole side of his body is tender with pain. Raph can’t help but flinch when his shoulder spasms and Leo hisses. “Shit, sorry, I know, I know it hurts. God, Raphie, you gotta say something before it gets this bad. I’m not afraid to bench you, big guy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Raph says, amused by his little brother’s no-nonsense tone, warmed by the care Leo always takes with his family when they’re sitting in his infirmary and putting their hurts in his hands.

There’s nothing performative about him here. It’s just Leo, stripped of every false layer.

“Let’s try to massage it out,” Leo says, all his attention bent to the task. “Then we’ll apply heat.”

Raph hums, watching him work. His arm radiates pain, and he has to grit his teeth as Leo goes to work on the knots and the ache flares close to unbearable and wanes to a dull throb and then flares again.

“Hey,” Raph says before he can overthink it any more. “What would you have done if I didn’t see you and Liam?”

Leo pauses, but only for a split-second. He’s as good as cornered here, because there’s no way he’ll leave Raph when he’s in pain, and there’s nowhere to hide. Thankfully for Raph’s sanity, he doesn’t try to pretend he doesn’t know what they’re talking about, even if he takes a long moment to finally answer.

“Would’ve made Angie make me a Portal Promise to never be alone with him,” Leo admits. Flushing slightly, he mumbles, “It’s, uh, a thing we do—we both make portals, you know, so—it just means we have to keep that promise no matter what happens or what rules we have to break, and we won’t get in trouble later as long as we’re honest.”

Raph’s heart hurts. His little brothers are so sweet, and people exist in the world who would hurt them, and he has no idea how to reconcile that. He hates that both things could be true at the same time.

“Tello doesn’t need to be encouraged to stay away from people, and I’m pretty sure he can read my mind? But I would’ve told him anyway,” Leo goes on. “I tell him everything. I’d try to word it so he didn’t get angry enough to do something drastic, like, cut the brake lines on Liam’s Toyota Corolla. And I’d have to make it sound like you and I were on the same page, otherwise he’d go to you about it, and you’d—uh, be annoyed that I didn’t drop it, I guess.”

Getting impaled by the Krang hurt less than this, Raph thinks. He feels sick.

“Leo—”

“I know,” Leo says quickly, a little too loud. “I know that I don’t always take stuff seriously. It’s not your fault for thinking—you know. You didn’t do anything wrong, Raphie. I just gotta grow up.”

This kid, who—like the rest of them—has already matured well past his age, well before he should have had to. Who’s terrified of letting his family down, who has so much he thinks he needs to live up to. Any perceived failure weighs on him like the death penalty, and Raph knows he had a hand in that.

He needs to listen. Even when he’s aching and short-tempered. Even when Leo is talking around something that scares him. Maybe especially then.

“Can we make a deal?” Raph says, reaching up to hold Leo’s hands still under one of his own. Leo is staring hard at Raph’s plastron and doesn’t seem willing to lift his eyes for love or money, but he jerks his head in a nod. “Next time I’m not hearing you, and it’s something serious like today was serious, tell me, and I’ll stop.”

Leo’s mouth twists a bit. If it were for anyone else’s sake, he’d get in Raph’s face and make himself heard no problemo, but it’s an entirely different story when it’s his own safety in question. That part of Leo that wants to always rely on his brothers is constantly at war with the part that believes he’s not supposed to need anyone’s help anymore.

It would be impossible for him to plant himself like a tree and refused to be budged and demand Raph’s attention if he thought for one second that it would make Raph angry at him.

“What if we came up with a code word?” Raph offers, squeezing Leo’s hands. “If I’m being a stubborn punk, you can tell me the code word, and I’ll listen, and I won’t get mad. Even if it turns out to be a mistake or a misunderstanding. Okay?”

He finally gets a peek of gold as Leo dares to make eye contact. He looks embarrassed, like they’ve made a huge deal out of nothing, and hiding inside his shell until everyone promises to pretend like nothing happened is looking more tempting by the second.

But he’s Leo, their fearless leader. He stared down that portal into the prison dimension without flinching. If he can do that, he can do anything.

“What word?” he finally says.

“You pick,” Raph tells him.

A smile creeps onto Leo’s face, picking its way carefully across shaky ground.

“‘Goose’,” he suggests. Raph lifts his good arm and drags him into a solid hug, ignoring the twinge in his back and side. His little brother scrambles to return the hug, shoving his face against Raph’s unscarred shoulder and clinging for all he’s worth. Which is a lot. He’s worth so much.

Later, when Raph’s got the electric heating pad on his arm and he and Leo are watching TikTok compilations to pass the time, Mikey comes through the infirmary door at top speed, waving his phone above his head like a maniac.

“Look what Mondo sent me!” he shouts at full volume. “I put it in the group chat!”

The video shared in the Mad Dogz chat shows Liam being kicked out of the railyard, his bags tossed into the road. Sally is going off at him at the top of her lungs, and Hob is standing by with his arms folded like he’s fully ready to let her maul the guy, and the rest of the grown-up mutants are making it pretty clear with their body language that the goose isn’t welcome anymore.

“Dunno what they saw on the security cam, but they effin’ hated it,” Mondo says in the recording, unbothered by the absolute chaos unfolding in front of him. “Good riddance, Liam sucks. Oh, Mikester, Hob wants to know if you guys’ll be back in the Kitchen for Herman’s D&D campaign on Saturday so he knows how much food to order. He said you should bring your dad around this time—as if we need another boring old man in the group, ugh. Anyway, let me know and I’ll pass it along, dude!”

A weight Raph hadn’t even realized he was still carrying melts off his shoulders. Leo huffs under his breath, a disbelieving little laugh.

“Can we go, Raphie?” Mikey asks with wide eyes. “Don worked so hard on all our character sheets. He even 3D-printed custom figurines.”

“My bard is going to carry this team,” Donnie says loudly from the next room, because he’s never met a private conversation he wouldn’t shamelessly listen in on.

It’s so important to the Mutanimals that their young friends feel safe with them, and here’s proof of that in Mikey’s hands. Raph doesn’t fully understand why they care, but he’s grateful that they do. It didn’t hit him until now how much it hurt to have the railyard taken away—and how relieved he is that they can go back, after all.

He squeezes the arm he still has around Leo’s shoulders, prompting his brother to look up at him.

“What do you say, Fearless?” he says warmly. “Your call.”

Raph’s listening this time.

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #hamato raphael #hamato leonardo #a team #my writing #tmnt fic #prompt #magicalspacedragon #this kind of went all over the place but im super out of it tonight unforch :(

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eldritch-spouse · 15 hours

Text

Full: Twitter/X; Postimages

TW: Parasocial obsession; Sugarbaby!reader

[Fem reader]

It's odd to think how things have escalated to this point.

When you started this whole "sugar companionship", "angel" thing, you didn't exactly expect anything to come of it. More of a last dtich effort to bring in some much appreciated side money, and fulfill someone's social needs while you're at it. It would be a win-win situation, right?

You don't remember how Viridis showed up. Probably through DMs in your social media account. You didn't post too much of yourself there aside from a few photos where you felt particularly pretty, and apparently, your taste for finer items showed itself there, enough for you to get hit up by something other than a scambot and creeps.

In his defense, the guy was never rude towards you. He didn't barge in begging for nude photos or demanding attention. Viridis just told you he thought you were gorgeous, and he wanted to see you living the lavish life you deserved.

Before you could even reply, a notification drops, displaying a sum of money transferred to you. The amount was large enough to have you choke on your own saliva, hysterically cackling.

Ever since then, he's been a permanent figure in your life, constantly there through thick and thin, someone you could even call a friend, even if there's a financial power dynamic always involved in your interactions.

It was hard not to get somewhat attached to your "donator".

You got to know each other, after all. You told him about what you do for a living, and he said he was an important figure in the ring of Sloth. You are both single. He's had bad experiences with former girlfriends and feels incredibly lonely. When you felt depressed, Viridis was there to console you, a generous tip accompanying his request for you to "Go cheer yourself up ;)".

And when he felt bad, he'd buy you something, ask you to unwrap it, send him a voice message saying you loved it.

You don't know when that turned into sending him videos saying you loved him.

It feels weird. Kind of wrong. But the more money he blows on you, the more you get to do all the things your finances never allowed before, the happier you are. So what, if he just wants a little good morning text with hearts and a picture of you dressed in the clothes he buys for you? It's puzzling how he got your measurements so right without asking, but maybe he just has an eye for that kind of thing.

Eventually, things escalated to video calls. And you finally got to see Viridis.

He's a surprisingly well-kept imp, with peculiar looking horns and glazed white eyes. Much better than what the morbid side of your brain was conjuring in its growing restlessness. He'd put so much effort into that paid ten minute call, and seemed so gleeful that you'd been wearing an outfit he put together. More than that, once the nervous jitters were shed, he actually made for a great conversation partner- Were it not for the alarm, you two might have spent an hour or more rambling together.

It comes as no surprise that you eventually started doing meal time calls. He'd pay to eat with you through video call, usually dinner time, or during his breaks. He seemed excited about them every time he "booked" these sessions, even going as far as asking what you'd be eating, and if he could pay you to get the exact same type of food as his. How could you refuse?

Viridis would tell you about his day, you'd tell him about yours, and the two of you would quell your loneliness that way. Sometime he'd hint at things he wanted to buy for you, gouging your reaction, waiting for that shine in your eyes. It always seemed to put a glow on the imp's face whenever you thanked him and got bashful over his many contributions.

He'd say I love you, my pretty bijou, and as agreed, you'd say it back to him in a convincing manner.

Viridis' latest idea involves spending his day off, scheduled to match yours, "with you". As usual, he was straightforward with what he wanted, and paid more than you'd reasonably stipulate for such a service. Enough money that you'd be incredibly foolish to decline, for a single day of sucking up to him- It's not even hard to suck up to the demon, he seems to melt pretty easily from the most basic of praise or admiration.

The imp wants to video call a routine he built for you, essentially. From the moment you put on your makeup and fix your hair to leave, to breakfast where he specified, then a shopping trip to whatever locations you desire, taking breaks for whatever needs you must fulfill in between, down to the moment where you get ready for bed, under the covers, and wish him good night.

It didn't seem so bad, if only a little overwhelming given there's a lot more interaction involved. And so far, things have gone pretty well! You can't lie and say that you're not enjoying getting to spend even more money on all your favorite brands, after all. Sure, at least two separate employees asked if you were in a long distance relationship -Something Viridis was all too eager to confirm- But there's hardly been a hiccup besides that.

" Hey, what do you think about these? " You point the camera at a set of dangle earrings, made of a beautiful rose gold and diamond, molded in the shape of three little hearts. You don't mention the price tag, but it's very visible.

The demon, who appears to be reclinging in a balcony of sorts, hums. " They'd look cute on you, I like the pavé on it. Get them. "

" Hold on, there's more- " You shuffle all the bags you're holding to pan over to a different display. " What about these? "

" Sure, but you're getting the heart ones. " Viridis insists, then pauses as you study the differently styled jewelry. " I should get you something with Hell's gold, the color definitely pops more, I think you'd love some of the stuff we have here. "

" Mhmm, I bet. " You absentmindedly respond. " Too bad I don't live in Hell, hah. "

There's a slightly heavier silence for a few seconds as you worry if you've touched a nerve.

" You could come visit, bijou. "

You resist the urge to snort. " Viridis, I- "

" You know I'd pay for the expenses, right? Get you a nice hotel in Sloth, it's one of the calmer rings, and I'd come pick you up so you're not walking around alone. "

The demon smiles hopefully, taking a sip of what you assume must be some kind of sparkling wine. Nothing less dignified in a glass as unique as the one he flaunts.

" You know that's... " It's hard to deny him without outright sounding ungrateful. That's one thing you've been noticing lately, how hard it seems to deny him. " I... "

Your hesitation is answer enough, making him visibly deflate. There's a flash of sourness on his face, though it fades quickly. " I get it. That's a big step. We can talk about it another time. "

Thank fuck.

You leave that store with possibly the most beautiful pair of earrings you've ever owned, proceed to wrestle a multitude of bags into your car -Thankful Viridis can't see you sweat it out- And proceed to fix yourself up in preparation for the dinner call. It's a lot easier to go through than the entire shopping spree was. You're home, it's just the two of you, the same as any other meal call you've arranged.

" Was today fun for you, bijou? " He sighs, ever enamored it seems.

" Of course! It's always fun when I get to shop with you. " It's not even a lie. Painted nails graze over the empty pasta plate when you pick new kitchenware up. " Let me just put these in the sink. "

" Uhm, before that- " The imp interrupts as soon as you stand. " Can I ask you for something? "

" ... Yeah? "

" I was wondering if you could try out what you bought today... For me. "

" On- On camera? " You gulp, suddenly feeling a lot more timid.

" Yes. " Viridis scratches the base of his horn. " I'd just... I don't know, it makes me feel closer to you than just seeing pictures of you with it on. I'll compensate, don't worry. "

You don't doubt him.

Part of you really wants to say no. In the midst of all this, you've never once undressed for him. You've put on risky outfits that toyed with the lines of common decency, but that's not as intimate as this.

Which also means he'll pay well.

Fuck.

No.

Yes.

He's waiting...

" Uhh- Erm- I... Y-Yeah, I guess we can try that after I organize things. "

" Super! " He winks at you. " Call me when you're ready. "

And you do. With some liquid courage in your system and a healthy amount of love for disposable income, you call Jayde with all the bags laid out around your bedroom, and the phone positioned just so that he can see you stand, and the reflection of your back on the tall mirror behind you.

You're shaking lightly, it feels like the first call you had with him.

When Viridis answers, you almost don't know what to say.

He's... In his bedroom. At least you've seen it enough times to recognize it as such. Distinctly topless, however. It's the first time you've seen him somewhat undressed. Maybe he's trying to be humorous, as if saying he's half-naked in solidarity with you. It doesn't stop you from staring at a moderately attractive figure.

" Hey! You ready, sweetie? " He grins with that jagged mouth.

" Mhm, yeah. " There's a clearing of the throat. " Why don't you pick the first one? "

He did, all too eagerly. You were quick to shuffle in and out of clothes, cheeks heated, a tiny smile on your face, hoping you could simply ignore the growing discomfort. The demon looked thrilled every second of the day, and even if you could somehow feel him ogling the generous slices of skin you'd show, he made an effort to keep talking just so you'd have something else to focus on.

It's okay, he's only seeing you in your underwear from time to time. You're just doing him a one-time favor. You can forget about it later.

" I guess that's it! " You pant, spinning again so that the imp can see how the lace looks on the back of the dress he bought you. " Boy, that was a lot. "

There's some shuffling coming from the phone, he seems to be sitting straighter now. " I'm... Pretty sure I got you something else. "

There's a long pause. You almost pretend you didn't hear him while you readjust the fabric on you.

" A-Ah? Really? "

" Yeah, check those bags bijou, pretty sure that's not all. " He urges. You can hear a faint tap. tap. tap. from his side.

Well, you tried.

Viridis isn't lying, there's another set he bought for you. Except, this set, is lingerie underwear.

Throughout your shopping trip, you'd forgotten that the local mall has a lingerie store. It wasn't one you had the chance to go to many times, since everything there is so expensive, and before Viridis came along your wallet would just scream in its vicinity...

Nevertheless, you weren't cautious enough to hide it from the camera, didn't think you had to, only to be proven wrong when the imp calls for you to halt and get in. It was awkward. It was very awkward. But he seemed enamored with a green set. It had floral designs covering plenty of see-through space, framing delicate parts of the body such as the nipples.

It is a lovely garment, you won't deny that. But you know the main draw for him was that it just so happened to be a shade of green which alluded to his username. It was viridian green. You looked it up from mild paranoia, yes. This was even more personal.

He insisted you got that one, specifically that one. And so, you did.

It's right there, on the last little bag.

God fucking damn it.

" Mm y-yeah, now that you mention it, I think there is something left, right. "

He hums, and you try to draw out the search as much as you can, in spite of the fucking thing being right there, practically staring you in the eyes. You return to the camera's field of view holding the lingerie up timidly.

" How could you forget that one? It's probably the prettiest thing I ever bought you. " Viridis swoons.

" ... You think so? Everything you get me is pretty, Viridis. " Distract him distract him distract-

Predictably, he blushes a little, a small 'heh' escaping him. " Jayde. Call me Jayde. "

Your head snaps up. Oh wow, okay. We've reached that point.

" Jayde. " His face lifts visibly. " Ah, thanks. It's very cute. "

The silence that follows is more tentative, unspoken words hanging in the air.

" Glad you think so... Can't wait to see how it looks on you. " He grins wide, reminding you, for a fraction of a second, that you're dealing with a demonic monster.

" Hahah, o-ok, let me just turn the camera- "

" Actually- " Your heart sinks. " I'd like to see you put it on. "

" The lingerie? " A bit of franticness bleeds into your tone.

" Yes. "

" R-Right now? "

Jayde chuckles. " Well, it's the only thing that's left, isn't it bijou? "

You think about it for a couple of seconds, wherein the reality of your situation seems to sink in. Can you truly deny him? You don't think Jayde would have an explosive reaction to rejection, but then again, you never rejected his suggestions before. What if he gets offended? Pulls away entirely? You'll never be able to afford this lifestyle without him.

What if all of this has stopped being in your control, and, in the end, you transferred the reigns to someone else?

He reads the reluctance plainly written on your face.

" ... Just this one time, sweetie. " He coaxes. " You're incredibly beautiful, you know that? I'd give a few fingers to see you. "

He continues to speak over the mental rut you've been thrown into.

" Any man would be lucky to have a jewel like you. I want to keep spoiling you forever. Please, put it on for me? "

You don't know what it was. Perhaps the fear of losing his money, maybe it was the praise, or simply the pure desire to get this over with- But, you take off your top.

The scene isn't sexy or mischievous, you just glance away timidly as you lower the straps of your bra and reach back to unclasp it. Your slowness may be unintentionally teasing him, and from the small glances you steal at your phone, he looks stupidly concentrated, cheeks nearly as dark as yours as he finally -Finally!- Gets to see your tits.

Air catches in your throat, you can't quite tell if it's the thrill of exposing yourself or pure anxiety.

" They're gorgeous... " He murmurs. You almost didn't hear it.

Slipping the new fabric in is easier, the garment is designed with maximum comfort in mind and settles nicely on your chest, especially when you arrange your breasts into position.

" Perfect. " Jayde sighs. " I wish I could touch you. You're so perfect. "

If you weren't running hotter than a steaming kettle before, you are now. All you manage to respond with is a hum and nervous giggling.

" Put the whole thing on. "

There's a full-body shiver when you start taking your panties off. In all your nerves, you fail to remember that the mirror behind you makes it so Jayde doesn't just get a view of your mons, he also gets to stare at your ass unhindered.

" Fffucking- "

He whispers something you don't notice when the fabric drops to the floor, and you lift a leg away to pick it up.

You're sliding the new ones up your bare legs when there's a little too much shuffling being heard from his side. Not a lot, but just enough to make you escape your own internal panic.

You only now realize that you can't see his hands anywhere. One is definitely holding the phone close to him, the other... Who knows. His shoulder shifts.

" Uhm, hahah, what are you doing there? " You jokingly ask, trying to reduce the awkwardness of the situation by insinuating something ridiculous.

The teasing look shatters when he doesn't immediately respond or laugh it off. In fact, he looks like he's been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

" N-!! No way! " You hurriedly fix the panties in place, choking on a breath.

" Sorry- I'm sorry, bijou- " He attempts a wobbly smile, not even denying it. " You just look so adorable flustered. You don't have to see it... Just pretend I'm not... "

Pretend I'm not jerking off, he means.

You can barely raise your voice above a whisper, doing a full turn so he can see how the lingerie sits on your body. Embarrassment has you grabbing your arm and trying to close your legs further, unwittingly flaunting exactly the curves he wants to see.

" You're gorgeous- " He repeats, eyes lidded, something far beyond lust shining in them. " You're the prettiest woman alive. You're sweet, you don't push me away or get spooked. I'm... So happy someone like you gives me the time of day. "

You don't know what to say, don't know what to do besides standing there as a monster audibly gets off on the sight of you in luxury lingerie.

" It's been too long since I met a girl like you. "

You don't quite like the intensity of his stare. Even if no man has ever directed words as flattering as these towards you, it feels like something is too intense about his demeanor.

" Jayde... " You cough. " Are you...? "

" Close. " He admits, laughing breathily. " I've never been this hard before. "

Apparently, he just said it to see you freeze and get even more flustered. " Please hurry up... "

" Are you tired, sweetheart? " His tone is near condescending.

" Y-Yeah. " Anything to speed it along.

" Uhuh, I bet. " Jayde's breathing gets shallower. " You'll go to bed soon, don't worry. "

" Mhm... " God, you're dying inside.

" I love you, bijou. "

Help.

" I... I love you too, Jayde. " You had to drag each word out of your tongue.

That did it. He's tossing his head back and furrowing his brows. You can hear the way Jayde stops breathing to hold any noises in, a groan still makes it through, you hate the traitorous flutter of your pussy that followed.

" I'm... Going to put my pajamas on now. Goodnight Jayde. " You try to break the silence while he recovers.

The expression on the imp's face can only be described as love-drunk, and sweaty.

" Goodnight, sweetie. "

As soon as the call drops, you make an inhuman noise of shame and bury yourself under the covers, kicking shopping bags aside.

It must have been mere minutes before a notification drops.

There's no doubt in you that's the demon's "compensation".

#Jayde oc #yandere monster #yandere teratophilia #monster boyfriend #monster x reader #terato tag #not sfw #minors dni #pinnie's art

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muzansfangs · 2 days

Text

Bloodstain.

Starring: Aizen Sosuke x f!reader; mention to Gin Ichimaru, Kaname Tosen, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, Nnoitra Gilga, Shuhei Hisagi, Orihime Inoue, Ichigo Kurosaki, Masaki Kurosaki, Uryu Ishida, Isshin Kurosaki, Ulquiorra Cifer and Haschwalth Jugram;

Format: multi-chapters story;

Warnings for this chapter: nsfw, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding kink, dirty talk, body worship, dom!Aizen, sub!reader, oral sex (reader!receiving), hair pulling, domestic life, fake dating, dirty fantasies, violence, gore, blood, bruises, death threats, mutual pining;

Plot: Taking care of Mrs. Watanabe’s daughter is not hard. Trying to appear like a couple in front of her bright eyes is a completely different story, though. The pent up frustration building up throughout the day eventually explodes. The desire to have you, to touch you again, to be one with you is driving Sosuke insane. You are too tempting for him and the way you take care of children, surely, is not helping.

N.B: I had to split the chapter in two parts. Some of the warnings belong to the second part!

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS CHAPTER | TO THE NEXT CHAPTER

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𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬.

A sunny morning and a six-year-old girl standing at your front door, curiously staring up at you with her leaf green eyes, indicated the beginning of a new day. The storm had passed on through the night and the warm rays of the sun kissing your face had gently waken you up from your slumber. Albeit you had agreed on sleeping next to Sosuke, by the time you had come back to your senses, he was not there. His side of the bed was empty, the sheets cool. Probably, he had waken up a couple of hours earlier, leaving you to a well-deserved rest. A noble gesture, considering who he was.

Eyes landing on your lap, you had noticed your nightgown was immaculate and still on. The bed was not messed up and the blanket was securely wrapped around your waist. He had been a man of honor, keeping his promise of not touching you more than it was strictly necessary. Sleeping in his arms was surely not something you should have done, but he was the only one who could help you to find rest whilst a storm raged outside. Thinking about it, in the past, beside your late mother, no one else had ever slept by your side, silently comforting you. No one had ever done it but him. It was ridiculous.

After taking a quick shower and changing into a flowery sundress, you had entered the kitchen only to find him sitting on the stool with a novel and a cup of tea in front of him. Sosuke had glanced up at you, not a word leaving his mouth, as you made yourself some coffee and begrudgingly muttered a ‘Good morning’.

He hummed as a response and you took it as a sign it was better to end off whatever small conversation you could muster with him. Not even ten minutes later, you had heard the doorbell ring and there you were now: locking eyes with a small version of the hellish Mrs. Watanabe. A prettier one, actually. The woman had not even bothered to show up at your door, she had simply left her daughter there and had made her getaway. For once, you were glad she had opted for being rude. Beholding the sight of her face early in the morning would have probably made you throw up your breakfast.

“Good morning, Aoi. — you greeted the girl with a mild voice, leaning slightly down to her eye level — You’ve grown up since the last time I’ve seen you”.

The girl blinked, holding her plushie to her chest “The paediatrician said I’m two inches taller than I was seven months ago”.

You smiled softly, stepping aside to let her enter your flat “Ah, I see! Let’s go inside, come on” you chimed, watching as the small girl trotted inside your house, familiar with the environment by now. She was better than her obnoxious mother and you really hoped she was going to be the opposite of that snake with a raven bob and high-necked dresses. It was impossible to predict how she would have turned out to be, but you had promised yourself to mold her into a sweet and loving girl in the time you spent with her.

Closing the door behind you two, you watched as Aoi stood in the middle of the living room, tilting her head to the side almost puzzled. It was almost like the little girl sensed something was off. Following her gaze, you realized she was looking directly at Sosuke, now occupying the entry to the kitchen with his lean frame. He seemed disinterested, hands into his pockets as he shifted his gaze from the child to you. For some reason, your mouth went dry. You had no idea of what was going on inside his head, but you hoped he wanted to keep on acting as a normal man and ‘your boyfriend’ in front of the witch’s offspring. Aoi was young, but old enough to innocently tell her mother the truth about your relationship with Sosuke.

Therefore, here you were, heart pumping hard in your chest and pleading eyes boring into Sosuke’s ones. It was almost like you were begging him not to let you down now. And, surprisingly, he did not.

“Who are you?” Aoi asked him, causing you to hold your breath in anticipation.

“I’m Sosuke. — he introduced himself, soothing tone caressing your skin — I’m Y/N’s boyfriend”.

You detested the lie he had come up with to justify his presence in your house, yet you were glad he was sticking up to the original plan right now. He was more collaborative than you had expected him to be. Sosuke was still himself, arrogant and sneaky. Despite that, he was apparently blending into the human society better than you had imagined.

You released a breath you had not realized you were holding at the sound of his words and he had not failed to notice how your shoulders had relaxed, hand now patting the small girl’s back as you motioned for her to go sit in the couch.

“Really? But I never saw you with her. Where were you?” Aoi piped out, panic washing over you again as the kid ignored you, fascinated by the new man in your living room.

Sosuke’s eyes flitted from the child to you, proud to be the one who had to somehow pull you out of that mess “I was out of town for work. I have decided to move in as soon as I have come back” he shortly said, Aoi’s eyes growing round as she listened to your former enemy in sheer interest.

“Oh! What do you do for a living?”.

Gosh, she was nothing like her mother, but that hag had taught her well how to be a noisy pest at times. More details and lies you two had to invent the harder it would have been not screwing up.

“He’s a cr—”you blurted out, but the rest of the words died on your tongue upon realizing you were going to label him as a criminal. Colors drained from your face, Sosuke’s eyebrow quirking up to come up with a remedy to your idiotic inclination to speak without thinking.

“Cricket player. I’m a cricket player”.

This was not what you expected him to say. Out of the vast list of works existing, he had really chosen a peculiar one. You palmed your forehead, turning around not to look at him. Aoi, on the other hand, gasped and enthusiastically asked more questions.

“O my God, so you have a horse?”.

Sosuke did not even hesitate to provide the curious human more informations “Oh, I do. I have recently bought this new specimen. It’s a female and incredibly stubborn. It’s hard taming her, but I’m confident I’ll eventually succeed” he cooed, the hair behind your neck standing whilst your brain registered his smooth talk and rationalized the true meaning behind them.

He was definitely walking on thin ice. Knowing you had to keep up a syrupy lovestory not to plant doubt in the kid’s mind, he had resolved to send you messages for you to read between the lines. How badly you wished you could just hit him with a frying pan and kick him out of your house. Instead, you had to turn around and display a sympathetic smile at him.

“Alright, enough about his job! Why don’t you sit there and tell me what you’d like to do today?” you chimed in, blocking Aoi’s view on the special threat without even sparing him a glance. You could feel his gaze on you, boring holes on your back as if he was firing a gun. He was right about a thing, summarizing his impression on you: you were hard to tame. Going down without a fight was not in your style. He could ask Haschwalth Jugram about that, but considering he was dead he could always ask Uryuu Ishida to make a detailed report about your battle.

Aoi blinked and hummed, the index of her small hand playing with her lower lip thoughtfully “The beach”.

“The beach?” you repeated, bending down to her eye level.

“Yep! There is going to be a competition of some kind! I wanna go, please, please! My mommy never lets me go to play in the sand” the small girl piped out, her pigtails swaying around her visage with every little stomp of her feet.

You were not hellbent to pander to the kid’s whims. You had been dealing with children on your own after Masaki’s tragic death. Ichigo was not really a capricious boy, the even younger girls neither. However, you had learned how to moderate your inclination to give them the world after their mother’s loss. Clearly unhappy and lost, they needed someone to guide them and humour them. This is what you did, in the end. Aoi was not spoiled. She had nothing, besides a very strict and a non-affective mother looking after her. A little treat could not do any harm.

The situation was risky, though. Could you trust Sosuke enough to let him tag along to a most likely overcrowded beach? With every passing second, your temptation to go back to the Soul Society and evirate Shunsui increased notably. He had ruined your life.

You clicked your tongue, shooting a side-eye to an impassive Sosuke towering over you from behind. He did not mumble a single word, arms folding against his chest as you stood back up and hurried him out of the living room. Aoi watched you two with her big doe eyes, hoping you were going to make her small wish come true. Your heart clenched in your chest, gifting her a small and genuine compassionate smile, before you cornered Sosuke in the dark corridor.

“What are your intentions? What the Hell do you think you are doing?” you asked him, jabbing a finger at his sternum to emphasize your question.

“I am not doing any harm, detective”.

“You know very well what I am talking about. A cricket player, a stubborn horse, the hard taming deal. — you reminded him, gaze hardening just by watching him wearing a placid smile you had grown so familiar with — Quit it”.

Sosuke grinned “Oh, really? Whose fault is it? Were you not about to address me as a criminal? You never lose the habit of acting on your impulses. You truly are a feisty animal, after all” he taunted you, hand reaching for his eye-patch in the pocket of his trousers to latch it behind his nape and cover his eye.

You gawked, balling your hands into fists down your sides, nails digging onto your palms to resist the urge to slash his handsome face in the presence of an innocent child waiting for you to make her day.

“That’s what you are. — you hissed through gritted teeth, deciding to ignore the fact he was right to some extent — Now, before going back to Aoi, I will give you a small advice: don’t you dare to ruin her day out”.

Sosuke paused, glancing at the child playing with her plushie back in the living room. She was good-mannered, innocent. Not a complete nuisance “You are overprotective of that kid”.

“Her mother is a bitch. I have never seen her hug her daughter, or show affection to her. If I can somehow give Aoi a break, I am more than willing to do so” you explained, following his gaze with a softer tone accompanying your actions.

“You have a thing for misfits”.

You turned to look at him, furrowing your brows perplexedly “Excuse me?”.

“First, Grimmjow and Ulquiorra. Then Shuhei. This kid here and now me. You can’t blame me for thinking you have a tendency of taking care of broken hearts and outcasts” he said, not even bothering to look back at you, before sauntering back to Aoi to announce you were indeed going spend the day on the beach.

When Gin harshly tugged at the shackles binding your hands together, you stumbled forwards. It was a measure you had never been subjected to. Aizen had told you it was temporary, just to send a message to the ravenous army of Espada craving your head, or wanting to put their hands on you to reduce you to the brand new plaything of Las Noches.

He had sent Gin Ichimaru to pick you up from your quarters. You had never trusted that man, that sly, creepy grin of his sent frissons over your skin every time you bumped into him. He had almost killed you back in the Soul Society. If you had not died back then, it was for shameless luck and Aizen’s healing spells. You often wondered what would have happened to you, if the Captain crossing roads with you was not him. He had this different way of dealing with you, this certain respect you refused to believe was genuine, given his betrayal. Looking back at it, you were glad he had never actually tried to kill you. It was irrational, but you had a feeling he felt some connection with you. Perhaps, you were just being delusional.

“You are hurting me” you hissed, glaring up at the willowy man guiding you down the monotonous, sterile corridors of Las Noches. He was conducting you to Aizen and the former Captain of the Ninth Division to join the incoming meeting as a guest.

For some reason, Aizen had requested your presence. He had refused to abide to your plea to let you stay in your bedroom. He wanted you there and you surely did not wish for his wrath to rain down on you upon defying him further.

“Oh, I apologize! Aizen-sama will not be pleased to know I have bruised those wrists of yours, I guess. — he sang, his mawkish tone earning a snort from you — Shall I feel a sting of remorse for what I have done? I mean, hurting a sweet girl you don’t even know could be convicted as pretty mean by the mankind. Am I right?”.

You halted, realizing he had stopped walking as well. The ominous clink of the chains dragging along the polished floor underneath your feet contributed to set off a chilling atmosphere around you two. You could not see Gin’s face, but you could tell he was probably reminiscing something. There was a double-meaning he was masterly concealing behind his typical brisk monologues. You had a feeling there was a deeper intent and message behind those words spoken in a desolate area of the castle.

“Some men out there hurt people and don’t even bother apologizing. — he stated, whipping his head towards you — They kill, mutilate, do pretty gory actions to lonely, lovely girls. But you know, Kurosaki, today I’m in a good mood and, to be honest, I’m not quite as bad as you may think I am” he stated, before walking over to you and grasping your wrists to inspect the damage.

You straightened your back, allowing him to chant what you had learned was a healing kidō to mend the bruised skin. Now that he had stopped rambling, you wanted to hear more from him.

“What are you hinting to?” you boldly asked him.

Gin smirked “I was just philosophizing”.

“Did someone hurt—”.

“Thin ice, Y/N-chan. — he suddenly hushed you, his fox eyes opening even so slightly to pin you on the spot — You are lucky to have someone watching your back. To be honest, I would like to hurt you, but I can’t do it. Now, don’t take me for someone who would be devoured by regrets for having hurt a woman. The only regret I have is not having finished you back in the Soul Society”.

Your blood ran cold and you expected his blade to pierce your heart, but the moment he turned around and tugged at the chains again you felt glad this torture was over. The sooner you were in the company of your worst enemy, the better. Once again, you found yourself wishing he was there with you, because you were absolutely certain he would have never hurt you. This man here, however, was on another level. He wanted you dead and, despite some Arrancars and Espada had told you the same, you could feel all of his hatred blanketing you like snow covering the ground. There was a thirst for vendetta in his actions that made you freeze on the spot.

You were so vulnerable without your blade. You wondered when you would have been able to snatch it away. It had been two weeks without training. You could sense your sword calling for you, but you could not just enter Aizen’s quarters so easily. You, the older Kurosaki, the independent girl who had never relied on anyone, were hoping day and night for your brother to save you. But he never came. He was not there and, regrettably, you wished you had not so selflessly swapped places with Orihime Inoue. Lost into self-deprecation, you had not realized Gin had stopped walking until you ended up bumping onto his back.

Sighing, you distanced yourself from him, only to meet a pair of chestnut brown eyes already transfixed on you. Aizen Sosuke stood right before you, next to him Kaname Tosen. Chills ran down your spine, when Gin roughly pushed you towards him, but this time you did not trip, much to his dismay. Delicately, Lord Aizen grasped your chin, inspecting your face. He always did that, checking on you as if he really cared about your health. Usually, you knew better than protesting, but you already knew what was going to happen this time.

Two days without seeing him and you had a small purple bruise on your cheekbone. Your stomach churned, his eyes turning as cold as ice.

“Who?”.

“It’s not even visible. It doesn’t hurt” you replied, turning your head to the side to slip away from his fingers. Such a pity he roughly grasped your jaw harder, tipping your head up to force an unbearable eye-contact. There was no hiding from him, especially when the matter concerned your safety.

“Someone has dared to hurt my guest in my castle. I’m legitimized to demand you to give me a name” he stated calmly but firmly, the air around you shifting to gloomy and asphyxiating. Tosen and Gin tensed, awaiting for you to quench Aizen’s thirst for blood. Yet, you failed their expectations.

You were sick and tired of gory battles and violence. Nnoitra deserved pain and sufferings. However, this was not Aizen’s battle. This was yours. You had promised yourself to make that bastard pay for his arrogance and perverse sense of superiority with your own blade. But while Aizen would have taken his life, you aspired to simply put him back into place.

You shook your head “It doesn’t concern you”.

The man before you arched a dark eyebrow, his grip on your jaw loosening as he rested his hand on the top of your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze “Don’t play mind games with me. I perfectly know why you’re hesitating to reveal the culprit’s name. You just fear to witness to what I may do to him”.

His words resonated in your head as you pressed your lips together and scoffed, forcing yourself not to add more details, to confirm his inklings. The moment he was about to press you again with more questions, an Arrancar materialiazed a few feet away from you two. Eyes downcast, knees planted onto the ground, the Hollow belonged to the newly promoted lower ranks. His aura was far from threatening and you could actually sense distinct waves of terror radiating from him.

Aizen shot him a cold glance “Speak” his baritone voice commanded, just as he took a hold of the chains binding your hands together to nudge towards the exit.

“The Espada are assembled and waiting for you, Lord Aizen” the Arrancar meekly announced, but the sound propagating in the corridor as soon as he pronounced his last word made you zone out. What was that?

Bones breaking, organs exploding, maybe. All you knew, as Aizen walked you to the spacious living room, was that something viscous and crimson red colored was splattered over the wall and on your white, pristine dress. Blood, it was blood you could not wipe away from your clothes and face as he urged you away from the crime scene. You could feel it drip down the column of your throat, cling onto the luxurious fabric of the uniform as your eyes landed on the Espada inspecting you in sheer curiosity.

You kept your head high, spacing out, completely ignoring Aizen rambling about his plot schemes. What had just happened was nothing but him showing you what kind of treatment would have fallen upon the Espada who had harmed you.

To catch your attention was Aizen’s spiritual pressure bending Grimmjow’s knees, squashing him onto the ground. People snickered, amused by the scene as the man flexed his power on him. No, no, you could not allow any more violence, you could not withstand it.

Dashing before Grimmjow, shielding him from Aizen’s sight, you winced as the chain yanked you back towards your captor. Your skin burned where the metal unforgivingly bit your flesh, but you did the only thing that could have somehow granted Grimmjow enough strength to stand back up and breathe again: you unleashed your own spiritual pressure, letting it clash against Aizen’s one. There was no competition, but you really gave it your best shot. Blood dribbled from your nose, as you glanced at Grimmjow from above your shoulder to check on him.

“W-What the fuck are you doing? You idiot, move!” the Sexta Espada rasped out, panting, as he tried to push himself up. It was working, at least.

Murmurs echoed around you, comments on how foolish you were and about how they would have loved to watch you die for your impertinence. Instead, Aizen diminished the intensity of his spiritual pressure and you did the same. Your knees failed you, your eyes meeting his, before you slumped onto the cold floor and your vision darkened.

The horde of screaming, rowdy kids trotting around you on the beach made you almost regret having asked Aoi what she would have loved to do to spend the day. There were parents chatting in small groups, teenagers playing beach-volley and a few stalls selling toys and handmade floral decorations. The temperature was nice, the gentle breeze caressing your skin making the summer heat bearable. Holding her hand, you let the child guide you to explore the area, her cheerful laughter warming you up from the inside.

When she stopped by a giant yellow sign, pointing her finger at it, you blinked: ‘Wreaths competition! Do your best to win a limited edition Stitch’.

“I want to win the plushie! Please, please! Can you help me out?” Aoi begged you, turning towards you with such a puppy face you struggled to keep your composure. You had to killed the time somehow.

You were screwed. But you reminded yourself why you were doing it.

“Okay, okay. — you agreed, settling your hand over her head — Listen, while I attempt to create good garlands and crowns, why don’t you go play with Sosuke and collect some seashells? Maybe we can make some pretty necklaces too, later” you suggested, before shooting a subtle glance at Sosuke that implied he had to accompany her and protect the kid with his own life. It was a test, to be fair. You wanted him to show you that you could trust him a little bit.

He arched his eyebrow up, upper lip twitching imperceptibly but not escaping your hawk-eyes “Have fun with the flowers” he falsely muttered, before gesturing for Aoi to follow him down to the shore.

The sight of him walking side by side with the small kid made you faintly smile. It was the furthest thing from your imagination. Aizen Sosuke dealing with kids, babysitting them, controlling his hunger for power and cold indifference for the sake of a little child almost sounded like the beginning of a chilling horror story. However, you were willing to test the waters. Maybe, he was not the best choice to make, when it came down to pick a man to watch over kids, but he was surprisingly trying his best.

Down the shore, while Sosuke kept his eyes transfixed on the Ocean, Aoi began to choose the best seashells she came across in her exploration. Apparently, she had taken the task seriously. The special threat was not much bothered by her presence, as long as she just did her job silently. As he had already assessed back home, this human was well-behaved. Suddenly, however, she tugged at his trousers to draw his attention. Peace did not last long.

Sosuke averted his eyes from the crystal water and, arms folded over his chest, he looked down at the little girl “What’s the matter?” he asked, not bothering to adjust his tone of voice to a softer one.

“Why didn’t you kiss her when you walked away? You’re not very affectionate with her” Aoi piped out, making him stiffen up.

Oh, now the situation was getting interesting. The human child was questioning his relationship with Y/N. He knew that he had to be careful about what he said, especially since it would have been only fair to confront her before adding more details about their ‘love-story’. But Sosuke could perfectly handle the situation. He was not a fool and manipulating people had somehow been the key for his success. Playing a child was even easier, given their simple mind.

He cleared his throat, a small smile curving his lips “You see, she’s a little upset with me right now. I’m more than sure she wouldn’t appreciate my kisses at the moment” he lied, only for Aoi to shake her head and toss away in the water a chipped scallop.

“All girls like kisses! If you apologize and give her one she is going to forgive you” she mumbled, only for Sosuke to widen his eyes at her acute observation. Ah, she was not a fool.

“This is what happens in fairytales, though”.

“But she’s a princess! Look at her, she’s so beautiful!” Aoi insisted, tapping on his knee again and this time he could only follow her gaze.

When his eyes landed on you, he was pleasantly welcomed with a boculic and tender vision he had never even dreamed of in his whole life. Sitting with a group of women and their children, you were smiling softly as you held a baby in your arms. Your eyes shimmered in a light he had never seen before, as you playfully showed a pretty wreath to the newborn in your arms, soon settling it on the top of your head. You were the incarnation of kindness and to him you had always been some sort of a mindblowing enigma he could not solve. You looked so happy, so beautiful like that.

His mind wandered for a few moments, venturing in thoughts he had never keened to contemplate in his life. A child. You. A peaceful life. Your hips had always been his addiction. Even when he had finally had you pinned underneath him, Sosuke could not help himself but squeeze on them, caressing your hipbones with hunger.

A man who controlled himself like he did was a slave to such a primal and basic need. Why did he want to breed you? He would have loved watching his seed leak out of you again, just like in the Soul Society. Gosh, he could have done it again and again, fucking you until could not feel your legs anymore and your tummy hurt. He could give you the world, he would have kissed you from your lips to the valley between your legs, if only you let him in. How could you not understand it?

His cock twitched his pants and he gritted his teeth, his eyes straying away from you as he caught a glimpse of the baby tugging at the neckline of your dress.

He had to have you. Again. That night.

Still, the real problem was the Hōgyoku. It was true he had studied the abilities of that source of power and energy, however it was mostly uncovered what else it could do. Sosuke was almost certain the Hōgyoku had made him infertile, but what if, among the wills of its owner, that small device could also bend its powers to grant his seed to fertilize an egg cell?

When he heard you calling out their names, Sosuke ran his fingers through his hair and patted on Aoi’s head absent-mindedly “Let’s go, she’s looking for us”.

The small kid beamed and ran up to you, leaving Sosuke behind with his thoughts and the unfamiliar feeling of coveting the same things those mortal men had: a family. He was not husband material, he was a villainous man with too much ego to settle down and put his aspirations aside. Maybe, though, now he could have it. It was just a matter of when and with who. He never understood love, that feeling leaving people besotted with another being was foreign to him. Despite that, when he saw you hand the plushie to Aoi and pick her up to spin her around mid-air he was absolutely certain that, if he were to choose a woman to share his heart and life with, he would have always chosen you.

When you put Aoi down, she giggled and squeezed the giant Stitch to her chest, relinquishing the feeling of finally having what she had craved so badly. You felt a sense of fulfillment in seeing her happy. You had watched her pass by your door with a pouty face too many times not to make her day with such a small gesture. Glancing at Sosuke, you noted he was holding some seashells in his hands and a breathless chuckle left your lips. A melody he had yearned to hear for too long to forget how it sounded and how his heart had always picked up its rate whenever you laughed in his proximity.

“What’s so funny?” he inquired, before grasping your hand and putting the colorful shells onto your palm.

You shrugged and scrunched up your nose “Nothing. It’s just that… I didn’t expect you to carry the seashells for her. That’s nice”.

He rolled his eyes “She sprinted towards you as soon as you called for us. Also, I knew you would have not been pleased if I lost them”.

You hummed and nodded your head, before picking up Aoi and sighing. The flower wreath over your head shifted, almost slipping off and he was quick to catch it, positioning it back in its original place. You stilled, eyes widening even so slightly before he lowered his face enough to let your noses brush together and this small action stole your breath from your lungs.

“You look beautiful like that” he commented, but before you could even thank him for the unexpected compliment, your phone rang and the jig was up. You did not catch the gleam of disappointment darkening his eyes as you stepped away to answer your call. Still, you were genuinely surprised to find yourself missing a kiss that never lingered on your lips.

You spent most of the day at the beach. You had to admit something had changed between you and Sosuke. You began to impoperly see him as reliable, a mistake you could not forgive yourself for. You knew how foolish of you it was to esteem him as a good man. He was a murderer, a manipulator, a traitor, the devil himself. To keep him out of your head, you had resorted to busy yourself in teaching Aoi how to thread the flowers together, or how to do cartwheels. But when it came down to eat lunch together, you were forced sit on a bench right next to Sosuke. The couples passing-by with their kids attempted more than once to strike up cordial conversations with you two, while their children played around with Aoi. It was challenging keeping up that farse. Sosuke, on the other hand, was perfectly fine with shooting you adoring glances. Arm looped around your shoulders to pull you closer to him, small adventures invented about your encounters to feed the interlocutors an epic love story, you were hating him for depicting a good, healthy relationship you knew he could never establish with you.

With you! You felt so pathetic for even considering the possibility of dating him for real. In other life, in other universe though, if he was not a monster, you could have allowed yourself to fall irrevocably in love with him.

The last blow that made your stomach somersault was what Aoi told you, by the front door of her house when you accompanied her back home “I wish you two were my parents”.

That innocent way of declaring how loved she had felt with you two affected you more than you liked to admit. You had a quick dinner with Sosuke, barely talking to him, before you decided once again to isolate yourself in the privacy of your bedroom. Clutching the sheets in your hands, you laid face first onto your pillow and commiserated yourself for your stupid sensitivity. Weren’t those signs you just wanted someone to love you so desperately it hurt? You wanted to be loved and to love freely. But your life was too complicated for indulging into the delights of a couple-life.

A knock on your door brought you back to reality and you huffed in contempt, before rolling off of the bed and opening the door. Sosuke stood there, still fully dressed, beside the fact he had taken off his eye-patch and had undone some buttons of his white shirt. Mother nature had made him too handsome not to admire.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you, but this belongs to you. — he stated, handing you the bag of the gift he had bought you yesterday — Given the fact I know no one else who could wear it besides you, I’m afraid you have no other option but to accept it” he observed, only for you to sigh and grasp the bag.

“Come in” you said, turning your back at him and allowing your villainous roommate to enter your bedroom. Years ago, it would have sounded reckless to let him inside such a private part of your house. But did it make some sense, considering you had practically slept in his arms yesterday night?

You sat on the edge of the bed, silence swallowing you two for some seconds, before you looked up at him and finally decided to show appreciation for the day “Oh, and… Thank you, I guess”.

“Oh, it’s nothing. I just thought this would have complimented your skin”.

You shook your head “I’m not talking about the gift. Thank you for having been a decent person at beach. — you corrected him, nails peeling away the sticker keeping the bag closed — And for the flattery remark you reserved to me out of the blue” you added coyly.

He smirked, taking a seat next to you without asking for your permisioon “It may sound so out of character coming from me, but I genuinely meant it. You are beautiful” he insisted, stretching his legs before him.

Good thing you had occupied yourself with pulling the fine piece of cloth out of the bag. Your heart was skipping beats repeatedly, almost leaving you out of breath. You scrutinized the red silky nightgown in awe, letting the smooth fabric slip through your fingers to fully appreciate its consistency. To add class to the item was the generous neckline bordered with lace. He definitely had good taste, but you were damn sure he had probably purchased such a scandalous nightgown to mess with your head.

You cleared your throat, folding it with care before putting it back into the bag and settling it down at your feet “It’s really beautiful. — you stated then, uncapable of turning your attention to him — But don’t you think it’s somewhat daring?”.

“Are you offended?”.

“What? No! — you fretted, cheeks warming up — It’s just that … I don’t know if I’m confident enough to wear it” you admitted, shrugging as you rubbed the back of your neck awkwardly. Well, this was definitely not a conversation you expected to have with him, or with a man in general. It was not like you had zero self-esteem. Honestly, it was more due to the fact that with your chaotic life, you did not have a lot of occasions to dress up. Let alone wearing something so revealing in bed for someone.

Sosuke let your words sink in for a few moments, before shifting on his seat to face you properly “Show me”.

“What?” you quipped, goggling at him as if he had just shouted a blasphemy in the middle of the road.

“I said ‘show me’. — he encouraged you again, gesturing at the bag at your feet nonchalantly — If you don’t feel comfortable in it, I’ll buy you a new one”.

You chuckled, your reaction earning a baffled glance from him. He was trying to be kind, probably. Still, it sounded hilarious. Also, why did he want to buy you stuff? You could provide for yourself on your own. He stared at you, silently demanding an explanation to your behavior while you stood up, grasping the fine piece of cloth “Sorry, I … I just don’t see why it seems to be so important to you”.

“Because that’s a gift. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable because of it”.

“Since when you care about my feelings?”.

He was not liking where the conversation was going “Just go to change. Isshin did an horrific job with you”.

You rolled your eyes at him, complying to his request and going to the bathroom to try the damn nightgown…Only to realize you actually adored it. The color really complimented your skin. The fabric embraced your curves perfectly, smoothly cascading down your valleys, barely reaching your upper thighs. You felt your body on fire, the idea of presenting yourself to him like that made you press your legs together in a combination of embarrassment and arousal. Why, though? Did you have something to be ashamed of? Absolutely not. He had seen you fully naked before and you were dressed now. Poorly, but you were still not indecent.

Stalling would have only prolonged the agony. Swallowing your pride, you made your way back to him. His eyes, strangely warm tonight, immediately pinned you on the spot. Basking in your beauty, Sosuke did not move from where he was sitting. He watched you intently, impassible face to let you stew on your own juice. To break the ice was your voice.

“To be honest, I have never forseen myself giving you a défilé. — you stated, eyes downcast — Somehow, it’s even worse than… Uhm, nevermind, forget it”.

“It’s even worse than sex. Is that what you wanted to say?”.

You felt your breath hitch in your throat, the sensation familiar to you after all the times he had read you like an open book. It was frustrating dealing with the only person in the entire universe you could not block out of your head. Nodding your head, you shrugged in defeat and turned on your heels to leave the room. Sosuke, on the other hand, was not done talking. Not yet.

“You look even better than I had imagined, you know?”.

“Oh, please, I don’t need a pep talk” you argued.

“Indeed. — Sosuke agreed, raising from his seat to amble towards you — I believe you just need to be reminded you are a woman. You need someone who boosts your ego for the power you possess over men” he reasoned, hitting a nerve you had been trying to ignore for too long. How long had it been since someone had really made you feel special, appreciate you in all your glory? Searching for the name of an individual who had empowered you to that length, well, you found no one.

And, sadly, before that little adventure with Sosuke, your last intercourse was with Shuhei. Something happened in the heat of the moment, not really unexpected, but there were not the strong feelings of the attentions you craved. He liked you, it was plain and simply. But what had he done to show you how much he cared, if after an argument he had disappeared without saying goodbye? Adding salt to the wound was not helping. Especially since all of that thinking was leading you to reminisce about Sosuke.

God, he really knew how to fuck you and blow your mind.

“I see you still have fun in playing the role of the psychologist” you sarcastically remarked, indulging him into whatever he was keening to achieve. Frissons skimmed over your naked shoudlers for the inklings you were getting. Once again, you were diving into dangerous situations.

“Tell me, when is the last time a man made you feel like you were on top of the world? Has someone ever worshipped your body?” he inquired, ignoring your sass and letting his eyes travel shamelessly down your body.

Gluttonous like a vulture, attentive like a golden eagle, Sosuke had cornered you without giving you enough time to realize it. You were always screwed, when it came down to him.

“You must be out of your mind, if you merely think I’m going to discuss my sex life with you. — you dissuaded him from illuding himself he could ask you more about your relationship, your feelings and private matters — Now, unless you’re a masochist who wishes to be kicked out of my bedroom, I’d like to get some sleep. Alone” you punctuated, indicating the door at your back with a tight smile on your lips.

You wished you had been more convincing, you wished he was not that close to you and that you had not given much importance to what you had felt with him that night and morning. You wished you had take another step back, that the moment he had trapped you between his body and the wall you had protested.

When you thought you could resist him, showing him you were not affected by his presence and avanaces, he knelt in front of you. His hands glided over your legs, cupping your calves, whilst he captured your gaze with his deep, almond eyes “Your words and gestures tells you don’t even know what I’m talking about and it’s a shame. — he said, fingers now tickling the back of your thighs while he let his nose graze against your lower belly tentatively — I won’t beat about the bush, I want to show you what it feels like to be lavished. Push me away now, Y/N, or I’ll begin” he lowly warned you, but your fingers threading through his soft strands did not yank his head back to yell at his face.

You gaped, uncapable to refuse him, to bring yourself to think straight. That passion you had felt with him, that level of pleasure had been obnubilating your mind for too long. You wanted it, you wanted him again. Wrong at the eyes of so many people, you instead began to see it as a mere stress relief. Even if you knew it was so much more. Why not giving in, then? Why not perseverating? Nobody had to know.

“Sosuke, if this shit leaves your mouth and becomes a dinner conversation, I’ll make you choke on your dick” you threatened him, legs finally spreading to give him more access to your clothed pussy.

He grinned, fingers hooking underneath the elastic band of your panties, tugging the item down until you kicked it off in a hurry “And giving up on the chance to fuck you to oblivion after arguments, or in stormy, depressing nights? You know me better than that” he crooned, hand lifting your right thigh to settle it on top of his shoulder, the access to your tight hole clenching around nothing much easier now.

You never had a man kneeling before you to give you oral. To think the closest thing to a God was currently lapping at your core in such a degrading position was electrifying. Yet, you were far from deeming yourself in a superior position. He still had the upper hand.

He hummed, head slipping underneath the skirt of your nightgown, as his tongue ran flatly over your velvet folds, fingertips digging onto the plush of your thighs. His warm tongue seeked your clitoris and twirled around it, testing your reaction. You felt ashamed of how loudly you moaned, of how you were grateful he was keeping you balanced above him, otherwise you would have surely tumbled down onto the floor. Mostly, though, you felt embarrassed by the spasmodic buckling of your hips, by the way your hands were pushing his head closer to your need in search for more friction. He had turned you into a madwoman.

He groaned and you straightened your back, flattenening it against the wall “I’m sorry!” you quipped, chest raising and falling erratic, stupidly thinking you had somehow hurt him.

You could not see his face, hidden by the gown, but you heard him rasp out an answer against your pubes “If you apologize again, I’ll stop”.

And no, you did not want him to stop, not when his fingers spread your puffy lips and he tickled the sensitive area around your opening with the tip of his tongue. You were going insane, body on fire under his ministrations, under the smoldering orgasm building up in your lower belly. You tried and failed to remember one time another man had pleasured you this much.

“Sosuke!” you cried out, mouth falling ajar as you lolled your head back against the wall.

He did not stop his onslaught on you. His voracious mouth licked, sucked, penetrated into you like that of a starving man. Your thighs were quivering, shaking violently, while you held him close to you and, dear God, if he was leading you to crave more than just that.

Only when you were on the edge of reaching your climax, he stopped. His breath was ragged, his face glistening in your arousal, while he stood back up and encircled you waist with his arms. You were panting, sweaty, whimpering in need as you kissed him passionately, not even thinking twice. Tongues danced together, while he held you close and you tasted yourself in his mouth.

He grinned against your lips “Do you feel that? That’s your taste. Men should bathe into it and feel like they’re reborn” he whispered, while you both stumbled towards your bed, falling onto it tangled in one.

And it was in that moment that something into you cracked. Aizen Sosuke could give you the world and that very night you were in for it.

AUTHOR NOTE.

My dear readers, I had said I didn’t want to split the chapter but I had to. Editing is as stressful as writing, trust me, and I could not do more than that. I will include the rest of the smut part in the next chapter! Please, let me know what you think about this!

Likes, comments and re-posts are greatly appreciated!

Luce

TAGS: @pseudowho @seireiteihellbutterfly @onyxino @areyouflying @bakugosgirl01 @noirfan12 @velaenaa @skexxll

#aizen sosuke x reader #sosuke aizen x reader #aizen x reader #aizen sosuke smut #bleach smut #bleach x reader #hisagi shuhei x reader #shuhei hisagi x reader #kurosaki ichigo x reader #bleach #bleach tybw #ichimaru gin x reader #grimmjow x reader

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paddockletters · 7 hours

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shattered hearts | lando norris

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: you break free from a toxic relationship, embarking on an exhilarating journey of self-discovery

warning: emotional abuse, infidelity, toxic relationship, angst

author's note:this was hard, so hard omg... as I always say, english is not my first language so sorry me if there are mistakes —feel free to tell me— and my requests are open!👀

I met Lando when we were barely out of high school. Back then, he was just a kid with dreams and a mischievous smile that made you feel like you were the only one in the world that mattered. For a while, I believed that was true. But as the years went by, I learned that Lando's smile wasn’t mine alone—it was shared with others, stolen moments behind my back. And somehow, I was always the one left picking up the pieces.

Our relationship was a whirlwind, the couple everyone thought would either crash or last forever. We did crash—over and over again. But somehow, Lando always found a way to convince me to come back.

“I’m sorry,” he’d say, voice low and pleading after one of his inevitable affairs. “But you know you’re my number one, right? None of them matter like you do.”

He’d wrap his arms around me, pull me close, and somehow, I’d believe him. I had to because after eight years of being with him, I didn’t know who I was without him.

The first time he cheated, I was devastated. It was in his early F1 days, just as his fame started to sink in. He swore it was a one-time thing that it didn’t mean anything. And like a fool, I believed him. But it didn’t stop. It never stopped. There was always another girl, another excuse, another lie wrapped up in the promise that I was still the "main one."

One particular night, I remember the argument that nearly broke us for good. Lando had been out late, and I found out through a mutual friend that he had been seen with another girl. Again. When he came home, reeking of alcohol and guilt, I confronted him.

“You said you were going to change, Lando!” I yelled, tears streaming down my face. “You promised me, over and over again, but nothing ever changes!”

“Why are you making such a big deal out of this? You always come back. You always forgive me,” he shot back, arms crossed, his face a mask of irritation.

His words stung like a slap to the face. I wanted to scream, to leave right then and there. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. Because a part of me still loved him, or maybe it was the idea of him—the boy I met before the fame, before the lies.

As the years rolled on, our friends saw the cracks. One night during a get-together at a bar, I tried to put on a brave face. I thought maybe if I acted normal, I could convince myself everything was fine. But when Jess pulled me aside, her expression serious, I knew I couldn’t hide anymore.

“Why do you keep letting him treat you like this?” she asked, frustration evident in her voice. “You deserve so much better, and he’s just going to keep doing this until you realize it.”

“Maybe he’ll change. I can’t just throw away eight years,” I replied defensively. “We have a history.”

“You mean a history of him cheating on you? You have to stop putting up with this, or you’re going to lose yourself,” she insisted, shaking her head.

I didn’t have an answer for her, not really. I just wanted to believe that things would get better. That Lando would see how much I cared and finally choose me over everyone else.

Our mutual friends began to pick sides. Some supported me, while others were loyal to Lando. It was suffocating, a constant tug-of-war that made everything feel so much worse. I felt more isolated than ever, even when surrounded by people.

Then there was the jealousy. Lando was incredibly possessive, especially with his fellow drivers. During one race weekend, I was talking to Charles, who had just finished his session. Lando walked in, and his eyes darkened.

“Why are you always chatting up the other drivers?” he snapped, pulling me aside as Charles walked away, giving us a questioning look.

“Because they’re my friends, Lando! Just because you’re in F1 doesn’t mean I can’t talk to anyone else. You’re not my warden,” I shot back, feeling the anger rise in my chest.

“Don’t act like I’m overreacting. You know how it looks,” he hissed, jaw clenched, frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

I knew he was being unreasonable, but I was too exhausted to fight back. Our friends watched the tension build, hoping to intervene. I overheard Max once whisper to Lando.

“You need to chill, mate. You’re pushing her away.”

But Lando always had an excuse for everything, often deflecting blame onto me.

“You just don’t understand how this world works!” he’d shout, leaving me feeling small and defeated.

The cycle continued, and I found myself in the same painful arguments over and over. One night, after he came home late from a party, I had finally reached my breaking point.

“Do you even care about how I feel?” I shouted, my voice echoing through our apartment. “You’re always out with other girls! How am I supposed to trust you?”

“I told you, you’re the main one! None of them matter!” he retorted, but his words felt hollow to me.

We spent that night in silence, and I knew I had to make a decision. I just didn’t know how to let go.

The more time passed, the more I began to distance myself from Lando. Therapy helped. I began to see the truth behind his words and actions. The way he manipulated me, made me feel guilty for his mistakes. The way he made it seem like I was the one at fault for staying, like I was to blame for the pain he caused me.

During one therapy session, I shared my frustrations.

“I don’t know why I keep coming back to him. He’s hurt me so many times, and I just can’t let go.”

The therapist asked me one simple question: “Do you love him, or are you just scared of being without him?”

It hit me like a ton of bricks. I didn’t know the answer.

One evening after another brutal fight, I finally left. For good this time. I packed my bags while he watched, silent for once. Maybe he thought I’d come back, just like I always did. But this time was different. I walked out the door, leaving behind eight years of memories, both good and bad.

The nights were long and lonely, and I often found myself thinking about the happy moments we had. One flashback struck me particularly hard: it was the first time he had taken me to the paddock during a race weekend, and we laughed like kids as he showed me around.

“Can you believe this is my life now?” he had said, beaming with pride. “I never would have thought I’d be racing in F1.”

“I always knew you could do it,” I replied, squeezing his hand.

But now, those memories felt tainted, and I needed to focus on myself. It wasn’t easy. There were nights I cried myself to sleep, wondering if I had made the right decision. But with time, and with the help of my therapist, I started to heal. I began to see that I deserved better, that I deserved someone who would love me the way I had always wanted Lando to.

One evening, after finally leaving Lando for good, I found myself at a racing event with friends. It was a chance to distract myself from the whirlwind of emotions I was navigating. As I wandered through the paddock, I was drawn to the sound of laughter.

“Are you lost, or just overwhelmed by all this?” a smooth voice asked. I turned to see Pato O'Ward, the charming IndyCar driver, grinning at me. His eyes sparkled with warmth, and for the first time in a long time, I felt a flicker of something hopeful.

“I guess a little bit of both,” I replied, smiling back.

“Come on, I’ll show you around,” he offered, his energy contagious. As we walked through the paddock, he shared stories about his racing experiences and the thrill of competing. It felt so refreshing to be around someone who was passionate and genuine, without the weight of expectations or drama.

Days turned into weeks, and I found myself spending more time with Pato. He was everything I had needed—funny, respectful, and utterly devoted. He listened to me, understood my past, and never once made me feel like I was in a competition for his attention.

One night, after a thrilling race, he took me to a quiet spot overlooking the track. “You know,” he said, “I’ve been thinking a lot about how important it is to find someone who truly sees you. I see you, and I want to be that person.”

His words resonated deep within me, filling the void Lando had left. In that moment, I knew I had found something special with Pato, something I had longed for but never thought I could have.

Meanwhile, Lando had his own set of problems. He was still juggling relationships, using his charm to keep people around while juggling jealousy over his fellow drivers. I heard from our mutual friends that he was still stuck in the same toxic patterns, always in and out of relationships, always claiming that I was the one who got away.

I remember a race weekend when Charles and Lando got into an argument. I was watching from the sidelines with Pato when Charles approached me, concern etched on his face.

“Are you okay? I know things with Lando have been… complicated,” he said, his gaze shifting to Lando, who was across the paddock, still fuming.

“I’m fine, really. I’ve moved on,” I assured him, but I could see the doubt in his eyes.

Later that evening, I got a message from Lando, who had obviously overheard the chatter.

“I know you’re happy with him, but you’re still mine. You always come back to me, remember?”

It took everything in me not to respond. I had a new life now, a new partner who respected me and didn’t cheat. Lando’s words were just echoes of the past.

Fast forward to our wedding day. I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting my veil, my heart racing with excitement. Pato had become my rock, my partner in every sense of the word. I knew this was the right choice, and my heart was finally at peace.

Then, my phone buzzed. It was a message from Lando.

“I heard you’re getting married. Just wanted to say, I hope you’re happy. But I still think about you. We could’ve had it all, you know.”

I stared at the message, my heart pounding. For a moment, I considered replying. But then I remembered all the sleepless nights, the tears, the heartbreak, and all the promises he had broken.

“Too late,” I typed back, hitting send before I could second-guess myself.

As I walked down the aisle, Pato’s face lit up with joy, and I couldn’t help but smile back. When he took my hands in his, I felt a sense of completeness I hadn’t known in years.

The ceremony was beautiful, I felt a sense of completeness I hadn’t felt in years. When Pato took my hands in his, I knew I was finally moving forward.

As we exchanged vows, Lando’s presence lingered in the back of my mind, but I let it go.

“I promise to love you through every challenge and to celebrate every victory,” he said, his eyes shining with sincerity.

“I promise to choose you every day for the rest of my life,” I replied, my voice steady and full of conviction.

We sealed our vows with a kiss, and I felt liberated. Lando was no longer my story; I was the author of my own life now, and it was a beautiful beginning with Pato. With him by my side, I was ready to embrace the future we would build together, thriving in a relationship based on trust, respect, and love.

As time passed, I learned to appreciate the small moments—the laughter, the late-night talks, the shared dreams of a future together. Pato supported my passions and encouraged me to pursue my own ambitions, something I had never fully experienced before.

One day, I received a message from Max: “Lando’s been a mess since your wedding. He didn’t handle it well.”

I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of satisfaction. He had always taken me for granted, and now, he was the one left behind.

I hoped Lando would find peace eventually, but I also knew I couldn’t go back to the pain of our past. Pato was everything I needed, and I was determined to focus on our life together.

As our first anniversary approached, Pato planned a surprise getaway. “I want to celebrate us, everything we’ve built,” he said, a bright smile on his face.

We traveled to a beautiful beach destination, where we spent our days relaxing, laughing, and simply enjoying each other’s company. One night, under a sky full of stars, Pato took my hand and said, “You’ve changed my life for the better. I want to keep building this amazing life with you.”

I couldn’t hold back my tears. “You’ve shown me what real love looks like, Pato. I’m so grateful for you.”

His expression softened as he leaned in, kissing me gently.

Then, one day, I got a call from Lando.

“Can we talk?” he asked, voice shaky.

“What do you want, Lando?” I replied, my heart racing.

“I just need to explain… things didn’t go as planned after you left. I’ve made mistakes, and I want you back.”

I paused, memories flooding back. “You had your chance, Lando. I can’t keep going back to the past. I’m happy now. I’ve moved on.”

“But I still love you!” he pleaded. “You were always my main one!”

His words echoed painfully in my mind, but I stood my ground. “You had your chance to prove that. You made your choice.”

The phone call ended, and I sighed with relief. I looked at Pato, who was sitting beside me, and smiled. I had made the right choice.

I felt a sense of peace wash over me. Lando was no longer a part of my narrative. My life was filled with the warmth and love Pato brought into it, and I was excited for the future we would continue to create together.

With Pato, I had learned to love again, not just him, but also myself. And that made all the difference.

Lando’s chapter had closed, and I was finally ready to start anew, with someone who truly valued me, not just as the ‘main one,’ but as the woman I had become.

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