#this was barely in the dream but it stood out to me so much

[moongirlcleo]

Where the Willows Weep

❤︎  tags and content: spring vibes, public sex, first time, soft caleb x f! reader ❤︎  author note: check out all my fics by searching #moongirlcleo or on AO3

🔞NSFW content - Minors DNI 🔞 Dividers: @/omi.resources ©2025 moongirlcleo do not repost, copy, translate, or modify

A picnic in a flower-drenched meadow was supposed to be a break from your duties. Caleb had other ideas. It starts with sandwiches and sun-warmed teasing. It ends with whispered promises and blossoms tangled in your hair.

Somewhere between the two, you fall in love. Or maybe… you already were.

The knock came just as you were brushing the sleep from your eyes, sharp enough to draw you from the haze of half-formed thoughts, but not urgent, not the kind of knock that meant danger waited on the other side. It was familiar, steady—a rhythm you’d known for years.

Caleb didn’t wait for permission. He never really did, not when it came to you. The door eased open on quiet hinges, and there he was, filling the frame like he’d always belonged there, like time and distance hadn’t carved a hollow between your lives for far too long. His jacket was slung over one shoulder, dark hair still tousled from the morning, and those eyes—violet, bright, impossibly warm—were already scanning you, lingering at the way you stood still in the dim light, bare feet cold against the floor.

“Mornin' pipsqueak,” he said, and his voice was low, but touched with that easy lilt, the one he always used when he was about to push your buttons just enough to get a rise out of you. “Thought you’d be ready by now.”

You blinked at him, still caught somewhere between dreams and waking. “Ready for what?”

Caleb stepped inside, setting his jacket down on the chair like he owned the place, like this moment had been waiting for him. His eyes never left yours, and when he crossed the room, it wasn’t rushed—it was deliberate, each step pulling you a little more awake, a little more aware of just how close he was.

“For your day off,” he said, like it was something simple, something normal. But the way he looked at you, like he’d been carrying this plan in his back pocket for weeks, told you otherwise.

“I don’t have a day off,” you muttered, half-reaching for your datapad on the table, where messages from command still blinked, waiting for you.

Caleb was faster. He plucked the device from your grasp, setting it face-down with a finality that made your pulse skip.

“You do now.”

There was no room for argument in his voice, but it wasn’t sharp, wasn’t harsh. It was… certain. Solid. Like he’d already made peace with whatever trouble might come from pulling you away.

“I’ve got things to—”

“You’ve been working non-stop, barely sleeping, running on fumes, and don’t even try to tell me otherwise,” he cut in, softer now, but with that edge of something deeper—concern, maybe. Or something that looked too much like care for this early in the morning. “So yeah, pipsqueak, today? You’re mine.”

Your breath caught, not from the words, but from the way he said them—like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“And what exactly does ‘being yours’ entail?” you asked, raising a brow, trying to find footing in the familiar rhythm of banter.

Caleb’s grin returned, brighter this time, laced with mischief. He leaned in, close enough that you could smell the fresh air still clinging to him, the faint trace of oil and leather that always lingered no matter where he went.

“You’ll see.”

The hum of the city still echoed faintly in your ears as Caleb guided the car through Linkon’s towering maze, the skyline slowly giving way to something less rigid, less defined. Buildings softened into silhouettes, steel and glass receding in the rearview mirror, replaced by stretches of road that felt untouched, forgotten by the pulse of Hunter life.

You sat quietly, one leg tucked beneath you, watching the way the morning light shifted through the windshield—goldening as the shadows of Linkon thinned, warmth creeping in with every mile he put between you and the place that had held you captive in routine for far too long.

Caleb’s hand was steady on the wheel, his other resting lazily on the console between you, fingers close enough that you could feel the heat of him, even when he wasn’t quite touching. He wasn’t in uniform today—just that old flight jacket you remembered from years ago, the one worn soft at the edges, stitched with memories he never spoke of but never seemed to leave behind.

The silence between you wasn’t heavy, though. It stretched comfortably, filled with the low hum of the engine and the occasional flick of his eyes toward you, quick glances that he didn’t bother to hide.

“Still trying to figure it out?” he asked, his voice breaking the quiet as the city finally slipped out of view behind a rise in the road.

You turned to him, arching a brow. “Figure what out?”

He smirked, that familiar spark catching in his eyes. “Where we’re headed.”

“I thought I wasn’t getting any hints.”

“Not giving you one.” His fingers drummed lightly against the wheel, the only sign of the energy simmering just beneath his calm exterior. “Just wondering how long it’ll take you to stop thinking about where we’re going, and just enjoy the ride.”

You huffed, rolling your eyes, but there was no bite to it. He had a point—not that you’d admit it.

The landscape beyond Linkon was already changing, the roads narrowing, framed now by tall grasses and bursts of color as spring took root in the countryside. Wildflowers crept along the edges of the pavement, swaying lazily in the breeze, and the air seemed different somehow—less filtered, less artificial. It smelled like sunlight and new beginnings, and you found yourself leaning back into the seat, tension you hadn’t even noticed beginning to slip away.

Caleb noticed. Of course, he did.

“You ever wonder what it’d be like,” he said after a while, his tone lighter now, like he was just thinking aloud, “if we didn’t have to go back?”

You glanced over at him, but his eyes were on the road, the question hanging there, unhurried.

“Go back to what?”

He shrugged, one hand lifting from the wheel to push through his hair, the motion easy, unguarded. “All of it. Linkon. The fleet. Everything waiting for us on the other side of today.”

You didn’t answer right away. The idea was tempting, but impossible—wasn’t it?

Caleb glanced at you again, catching the flicker of doubt in your eyes, and for a moment, he looked like he might say something else. But instead, he just reached across the console, his hand finding yours, fingers curling in a way that felt like a promise.

“Not saying we have to,” he said, softer now, “but for today? Let’s pretend we don’t.”

The road narrowed until it wasn’t a road at all, just a winding dirt path flanked by new grass and the beginnings of wild violet and golden blossoms breaking through the soil. Caleb slowed the vehicle to a crawl, the hum of the engine giving way to birdsong and the whisper of the wind moving through branches overhead. The air shifted- greener, softer, sweet with blooming things, and you felt it immediately in your chest, that ache that had nothing to do with fatigue and everything to do with remembering what peace felt like.

Without a word, he parked at the edge of a rise and stepped out first, the soft crunch of gravel beneath his boots the only sound for a moment. When he came around to open your door, there was no smirk, no teasing glint in his eyes. Just that quiet, familiar warmth as he offered his hand. 

“C’mon, pipsqueak,” he said gently, voice laced with something almost reverent. “You’ve got to see this from the ground.”

You took his hand, and as soon as your boots met earth, you understood.

The meadow stretched wide below, blanketed in flowers that swayed with the rhythm of the breeze. Clusters of soft purples and whites near the tree line, buttery yellow blossoms rippling like sunlight across the grass. In the center of it all, a still pond caught the sky in its mirrored surface, ringed with delicate pink petals that floated lazily across the water. Willow trees leaned protectively overhead, their branches trailing like veils, filtering the sunlight into soft shafts of gold that painted everything in glow.

It didn’t feel real.

“Caleb…” you breathed, unable to finish the thought.

He was already watching you, his hand still loosely cradling yours.

“Knew it was still here,” he said, glancing at the pond like it was a memory he’d kept folded in his back pocket. “Used to sneak off here after drills back when I was stationed closer to Linkon. Figured if anyone deserved to see it, it’d be you.”

You didn’t speak. Didn’t need to. The tightness in your throat had nothing to do with words.

Caleb stepped ahead, pulling you down a soft incline until the blooms brushed your legs. He moved through the flowers like he belonged to them, like the field had been waiting all along for this moment. A quilt was tucked under his arm, faded navy and gold, like a sky full of stars and he spread it out near the water’s edge with practiced ease, anchoring it in place with a basket he’d pulled from the back of the car.

He flopped down onto it with a sigh, arms braced behind him as he leaned back to look up at the sky through the willows.

“Well?” he called, tipping his head toward you, the sunlight catching in his eyes. “You gonna keep standing there or are you gonna let me impress you with my top-tier sandwich-making skills?”

You didn’t answer right away. You just watched him- this man with a metal arm who had walked through hell and still chose to bring beauty with him wherever he went.

And then, smiling and breathless, you ran to him.

The quilt was soft beneath your fingers, sun-warmed and familiar, and you barely had time to sit down before Caleb was already halfway through the picnic basket, mumbling to himself as he unearthed neatly wrapped bundles of food and a thermos or two. He tossed you a grin over his shoulder when he caught your stare.

“Don’t look so surprised,” he said, unwrapping what looked suspiciously like a sandwich shaped by someone with very large hands and very little patience. “I’m a Colonel, pipsqueak. That means I’ve mastered the art of strategic supply raids… including Zayne’s kitchen.”

You snorted, catching a faint whiff of balsamic and something herbaceous as he handed you one of the wraps. “So what I’m hearing is this was a joint operation.”

Caleb grinned, one knee bent, forearm slung lazily across it as he took a bite of his own food. “Technically, I informed him after I’d already borrowed his ingredients. That counts as communication.”

“Uh huh.”

But your lips were already curving into a smile, and he saw it. Of course he did. He watched you as if your happiness was the only thing that mattered. As if that had always been the point.

The breeze picked up, tugging lightly at your hair, and a few stray petals caught on the edge of the quilt, trailing across your wrist. Caleb reached over, brushing one away with a soft flick of his fingers. The tips were calloused, his touch feather-light, but there was something else behind it too- something reverent.

“Got one,” he murmured, and instead of letting it fall away, he held the blossom between two fingers, then tucked it carefully behind your ear.

Your breath caught. Just a fraction, just enough.

He tilted his head, that grin softening. “There. Better.”

You stared at him, lips parted, and the sunlight broke through the willow branches behind him, catching in the flecks of violet in his eyes.

“You’re being really sweet today,” you said softly, fingers brushing instinctively at the petal in your hair.

Caleb gave a one-shouldered shrug, then leaned back on his elbows, stretching out across the quilt like he had all the time in the world. “That’s ‘cause I’ve got the best view in the galaxy right now. And I don’t mean the pond.”

You threw a half-hearted piece of crust at his chest, laughing, and he caught it with one hand without even looking, smirking like the little shit he always was. But the blush on your cheeks didn’t fade, and neither did the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing blooming in that entire field.

You lay back beside him, shoulder brushing his as you stared up through the cascading willows, petals falling slow as snow. His fingers found yours between the folds of the quilt, thumb tracing slow, lazy circles against your knuckles. There was no pressure, no rush.

Just the steadiness of his presence, and the warmth of his touch.

The breeze ruffled the willow branches above, casting shadows that danced across your arms and his chest. From this angle, the petals looked like stars drifting across daylight, slow and aimless, like even time had given in to the softness of this place.

Caleb’s thumb was still moving in lazy circles over the back of your hand, your fingers loosely tangled. It wasn’t the kind of touch meant to lead anywhere, but it lingered. Grew slower. More deliberate.

“So,” you murmured, shifting just enough that your shoulder pressed against his, “what other top-secret missions have you been running behind my back?”

He huffed a laugh, the sound low in his throat. “Wouldn’t be top-secret if I told you, pipsqueak.”

You turned your head to look at him, nose scrunching. “That’s not how trust works.”

“Oh?” Caleb tilted his head to meet your gaze, lips curved in that lazy half-smile that always meant trouble. “Is this an interrogation now?”

You smiled sweetly. “Maybe.”

He leaned in, barely closing the space between your faces, just enough for his breath to kiss your cheek. “You gonna make me talk, then?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he moved faster- his hand suddenly pressing lightly to your ribs as he rolled, pinning you gently into the blanket with the weight of his body angled above yours, his knee slipping between your legs in a way that was definitely still playful, but bordering on something else.

“Caleb!” you laughed, half squirming, but he just grinned wider, clearly pleased with himself.

“Gotta defend myself from aggressive reporters,” he said, mock-serious, even as he ducked low enough to brush his nose against your temple.

“I didn’t even do anything,” you protested, breathless.

“Lies,” he said, voice soft now, close enough that the word sent a shiver right through you. “You looked at me like that.”

You blinked up at him, heart stuttering. “Like what?”

His smile faltered for a beat. His eyes searched yours, the humor still there but dimmed under something gentler.

“Like you forgot there’s a world outside this moment,” he said quietly. “And that’s dangerous, sweetheart. Makes a guy think he’s doing somethin' right.”

You didn’t speak. Just stared up at him, at the sunlight caught in the strands of his hair, the way his weight pressed so solidly against you, grounding you like nothing else ever could.

Your fingers slid up, slow, curling into the fabric of his flight jacket where it bunched near his shoulder.

“You are,” you whispered.

That flicker behind his eyes- relief, maybe, or maybe something closer to ache, was gone as quickly as it came. But his smile returned, softer now.

“Well,” he said, leaning down to kiss the corner of your mouth, so light it barely counted, “we can’t have you thinking I’m too perfect.”

You arched a brow, heart skipping. “That was a kiss?”

He smirked. “You want a real one?”

Your mouth opened to answer, but he was already moving, brushing his lips against yours, slow and warm and sweet with the taste of springtime and laughter. And even as the kiss deepened, even as his hand slid beneath the hem of your shirt to rest warm against your waist, the field around you bloomed brighter, the sky spun soft, and everything stayed light.

The kiss deepened slowly, like neither of you wanted to startle it—like it was something delicate, something that had bloomed here between the wildflowers and the hush of willow leaves. His lips were soft but sure, moving against yours with a tenderness that made your chest ache. Like he’d wanted this for a long time. Like he wasn’t about to waste a second of it.

Caleb pulled back just a breath, resting his forehead against yours. His hand was still beneath your shirt, warm against the small of your back, the calloused pads of his fingers grazing skin he hadn’t touched before.

“You okay?” he murmured, voice low, his breath brushing your lips.

You nodded, dazed, heart fluttering.

He smiled at that- something crooked and boyish, but full of awe. Like you’d just handed him the stars.

“I’ve wanted to do that since forever,” he whispered, lips brushing your cheek now, trailing lower, catching the line of your jaw. “But I didn’t wanna get it wrong.”

“You didn’t,” you breathed.

His chuckle rumbled low against your skin as he kissed down the curve of your throat, slow and reverent, his hands skimming under your shirt now in a slow caress. No urgency, just exploration. Just memorization.

“Good,” he murmured, one hand sliding up your ribs, not quite to your chest yet, but close enough that you felt the anticipation tighten beneath your skin. “Because I’m not in a rush. Not with you.”

The words rooted deep, low in your belly.

His touch grew bolder then, still soft but more assured. His fingers slipped higher, thumbs brushing the edge of your bra, and when you didn’t stop him, he eased the fabric upward, mouth never leaving your skin. He kissed the space just above your heart, slow and steady, like he was grounding himself in the moment, in you.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he said against your skin, voice a quiet vow.

“I don’t,” you whispered.

And that was all it took.

He pulled your shirt off slowly, dragging his palms over your arms as he sat up just enough to tug it over your head, letting it fall beside the blanket in a whisper of cotton. His eyes roamed your body, like you were something sacred. Something he didn’t think he’d ever deserve to see like this.

“Beautiful,” he said, more to himself than to you, his gaze landing on your flushed skin and the way the light painted you in gold and petal pink. “You’re so damn beautiful.”

You pulled him back down, your legs slipping to cradle him closer, and the kiss this time was heavier, slower but edged with something deeper, need curling like smoke beneath every breath. You felt his weight settle between your thighs, the pressure of him through his jeans making your hips shift without thinking, and Caleb groaned against your mouth.

His hand slid down, over your hip, down to the back of your thigh, guiding your leg around his waist.

“You sure?” he asked again, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes.

You nodded, fingers tracing the back of his neck, voice a whisper. “I want this. I want you.”

His smile this time was slower, almost shy but when he kissed you again, it was deeper. More sure.

Caleb had always held back. Always waited. But not anymore.

And beneath the willow branches, with petals falling like soft rain and the scent of spring all around you, the line between friends and lovers blurred for the first time- not in fire, but in warmth. In the kind of closeness that felt like coming home.

His kisses drifted lower, unhurried, trailing warmth along your collarbone, down the slope of your chest as his hands followed, steady and anchoring like he needed to feel you unfold beneath him in real time. When he finally eased your bra aside, there was no teasing smirk, no cocky one-liner.

“God,” he murmured, reverent, his thumb brushing along the curve of your breast, the pad catching on skin already taut with anticipation. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to touch you like this.”

You arched beneath him without thinking, chasing the heat of his palm, your fingers sliding into his hair and curling as he lowered his mouth to your skin. The first kiss he pressed to your breast was slow, almost hesitant, like he was still afraid to rush this, to break the spell between you. But then his tongue flicked over your nipple, and you gasped, hips shifting, breath catching, and that was what made him groan low in his throat.

“Caleb—”

He met your gaze then, propped above you, one hand tracing the waistband of your jeans, the other bracing himself beside your head. “If we do this,” he said, voice thick with restraint, “I’m not going to be able to pretend it didn’t mean anything.”

You reached up, cradling his cheek in your palm, your thumb brushing the soft stubble there. “Me either.”

That was all it took.

He kissed you again, rougher now, needier, his hands fumbling just slightly as he undid your jeans and dragged them down your legs, his mouth never leaving yours for long. And when he knelt between your thighs, tossing his jacket and shirt aside with a looseness that came from long-restrained desire, you drank in the sight of him. All lean muscle and warm skin and careful strength, the necklace you gave him glinting softly against his chest.

His hand slid between your thighs again, knuckles brushing over the thin cotton of your underwear, and when he found you soaked through, his jaw clenched visibly.

“Shit,” he muttered, almost to himself. “You’re already shaking."

“Then do something about it,” you whispered, breathless.

He didn’t need more coaxing. He dragged the last barrier down your legs slowly, his fingers grazing the inside of your thighs like he was mapping them to memory. And when he dipped his head, placing a kiss right above where you ached, you thought your heart might stop.

Caleb was gentle and thorough, his mouth hot and slow as he devoured you like a man starved and savoring every second. He learned you fast, adjusted with each gasp, every trembling sigh that left your lips. One hand held you steady, fingers pressing into your hip, while the other slid up your body to cup your breast, rolling the sensitive peak between his fingers until your head dropped back, moaning his name.

“That’s it,” he murmured between kisses, voice a ragged whisper against your heat. “Come on, sweetheart. Let me hear you.”

And you did.

Your climax hit with a full-body tremble, soft but sharp, pulling through you like a wave that left you wrecked and gasping, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. Caleb kissed his way back up your body, tasting your skin, your pulse, your mouth, settling back over you like he never wanted to be anywhere else.

You didn’t even realize he’d shed the rest of his clothes until you felt him pressed fully against you hard, thick, the weight of him pressing right where you were still pulsing with aftershock.

“My bag,” he said hoarsely, searching around with one hand.

You grabbed a small knapsack and handed it to him.

He hastily pulled a condom out and the brief rustle of foil was followed by a low groan as he rolled it on, breath catching as he settled between your legs once more. His cybernetic arm braced beside your head, gleaming faintly in the dappled light, while the warmth of his real hand cradled your thigh as he lined himself up and paused.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.”

He pressed forward slowly, inch by careful inch, and the stretch was slow, thick, deep- intimate in a way that made your throat tighten. His eyes stayed locked on yours, watching every shift in your expression like a tether.

“Fuck,” he breathed, forehead dropping to yours as he bottomed out, buried deep, unmoving. “You feel… you feel like everything I've always wanted.”

You didn’t answer... you couldn’t. You just wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him closer, kissing him with everything you couldn’t say as he began to move. 

He moved slowly at first, rocking into you with a rhythm so careful, it felt like he was memorizing every sigh, every tremble. His forehead pressed to yours, damp strands of hair brushing your temples, and the only sounds were the soft hitch of your breath, the low rustle of the quilt beneath you, and the quiet, living world around you—the distant ripple of the pond, the whisper of willows sighing overhead, the lazy hum of bees drifting from bloom to bloom.

Caleb’s hand slid along your thigh, coaxing your leg higher around his waist, deepening the angle, pulling a broken gasp from your throat that had him groaning low against your skin.

“You’re killing me, beautiful,” he whispered, voice raw at the edges. His cybernetic arm braced against the blanket, glinting silver where the sunlight caught it, but the hand cupping your hip was warm, grounding, and achingly human.

Blossoms rained down around you with the breeze, pale pink and white, catching in the messy tangle of your hair, dusting his bare shoulders. The world smelled of fresh grass and warmed petals, heady and alive, and the feeling of him was overwhelming in the most beautiful way.

Every slow thrust sent tiny tremors through your limbs, your skin flushed and slick where you pressed together. He didn’t rush, he worshipped- every roll of his hips, every kiss dragged along your throat, every whispered curse breathed like a prayer into the hollow of your collarbone.

“You feel-” he gasped, breaking off with a rough sound as you clenched around him, your nails digging faint crescents into his back. His hands slid up your sides, thumbs stroking over sensitive ribs, his whole body trembling as he fought to keep the pace slow, reverent. “God, pipsqueak... you feel like heaven.”

Your hands slid into his hair, pulling him down into a kiss that was less polished now. It was messy, desperate, sweet. You could feel him losing himself in you, the way his rhythm faltered every time you moaned against his lips, the way he shuddered when you whispered his name like it was the only word you knew.

The quilt had half-slipped beneath you both, the soft spring grass cool and ticklish against your overheated skin. Petals clung to your back, to your thighs, dusted across Caleb’s shoulders and hair like the meadow itself had claimed you, crowned you. You could feel the earth under your palms, the give of the ground, the heartbeat of the living world matching the stuttered rhythm of your own.

He thrust deeper, slower, grinding against you until the pleasure built sharp and aching at the base of your spine, threatening to snap. Caleb's hand slid down between you, fingers finding where you needed him most, circling slow, perfect patterns that pushed you closer, pushed you over.

“That’s it,” he murmured against your mouth, voice wrecked, almost pleading. “Come on, baby, come for me.”

Your body arched against him, every nerve lit up with pleasure so pure it was almost too much, your cry muffled against his shoulder. Caleb cursed low, brokenly, his own release chasing yours as he ground deep, hips stuttering, burying himself fully as he lost himself in the feel of you, with you.

For a long moment, there was nothing but the two of you and the world holding its breath. Nothing but the slow shudder of your limbs tangled with his, the warmth of the sun on your skin, the petals drifting lazily through the golden light.

Caleb didn’t move. He stayed pressed against you, forehead resting against your temple, his hand smoothing slow, almost absent circles along your hip as he caught his breath. His whole body was trembling with the effort to stay, to savor it, to not let the world intrude just yet.

“Pipsqueak,” he whispered after a moment, his voice thick and too soft for anything but you. “I’m pretty sure I’m never gonna survive you.”

You turned your head slightly, nuzzling into the mess of his hair, still breathless, still trembling, but so full you thought your chest might break with it.

“Good,” you murmured. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

A slow, broken laugh rumbled out of him, pure and raw and full of every promise he hadn’t needed to say.

Caleb's body was a steady weight over yours, warm and unshakable, the muscles of his back still trembling faintly as he caught his breath. Petals clung to his bare shoulders, caught in the messy sweep of his dark hair, and the breeze stirred the willow branches above, sending new blossoms drifting down around you like soft rain.

He shifted slightly, bracing himself on an elbow to look at you, and his hand came up almost unconsciously, brushing petals from your cheeks, your throat, your chest. His fingers lingered longer than necessary, tracing the curve of your jaw, the bow of your lips, like he still couldn’t quite believe you were real.

"You’ve got flowers everywhere," he murmured, his voice low, thick with the kind of wonder he didn’t bother to hide anymore.

You smiled up at him, your body loose and boneless against the quilt, skin still buzzing from where he had touched you, kissed you, claimed you in the gentlest ways.

"So do you," you whispered back, your hand sliding up to comb through his tousled hair, feeling the warmth of him, the life of him, the way he leaned into your touch like he couldn’t help it.

He let out a soft, breathless chuckle and dropped a kiss onto your forehead, then another at the bridge of your nose, then one more against the corner of your mouth, each slower, sweeter than the last, until he was just resting his forehead against yours, breathing you in.

You let your eyes flutter closed, letting the sunlight and the quiet and the slow, steady beat of his heart lull you toward sleep. The blanket beneath you was tangled and wrinkled, the grass cool against your bare legs, the scent of blossoms thick in the warm spring air. Everything felt lighter here- like the gravity that held you both had loosened its grip, just enough to let you float together in the golden hush of the afternoon.

You heard him shift again, felt the way his arm curled more firmly around your waist, pulling you closer until your bodies fit perfectly, breath to breath. His thumb brushed slow circles along the bare skin of your hip, grounding you in the gentlest way.

You thought he might say something else, but he stayed quiet for a long while, the breeze whispering around you, the pond nearby glinting like spilled silver.

And then, just when you thought he might have drifted off to sleep, you heard it.

A whisper, so soft it barely reached your ears.

"I love you."

Your heart squeezed so hard you thought it might break.

You stayed still, half because you didn’t trust your voice to work, half because some part of you knew he hadn’t meant for you to hear it. Or maybe he had. Maybe he just needed to say it without expecting anything back.

His arm tightened just a little around you after he said it, a silent promise stitched into the touch.

You tucked your face into the curve of his neck, nuzzling closer, and heard his breath hitch, just slightly- as if he knew you’d heard after all.

Neither of you spoke again. The willows swayed, the blossoms fell, and the two of you stayed tangled together, heart to heart, as the sun melted lower toward the horizon, turning the world to gold.

And for the first time in too long, everything was exactly as it was always meant to be.

[slut4hee]

Kill Bill

{Paring: Ex Boyfriend Jake Sim x Crazy Ex Girlfriend Fem! Reader

{Genre: smut, dark themes, serial killer au, toxic relationships, angst, 18+ so (mdni).

{Summary: In which, you refuse to let the love, that you and Jake once shared die. The love you harbor for Jake is dangerous, an obsession, is what they would call it. You would do whatever it takes to get Jake back into your life, even it meant killing his new girlfriend. If you can’t have Jake Sim, then no one else could.

{Warnings: explicit scenes, dark scenes, mentions of murders, psychopath behavior, manipulation, obsession, stalking, unprotected sex, rough sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), choking, squirting, knife play, blood play, cum eating, reader is very unhinged, etc, just read along bestie🙂

{Playlist: Kill Bill~Sza, Break up with your girlfriend, I’m bored~Ariana Grande, Wildest Dreams~Taylor Swift, After Hours~The Weekend, You Right~Doja Cat, Chase Atlantic~Into It, I’ll Kill You~Summer Walker(feat. Jhené Aiko).

“I’m so sorry Y/n, but I can’t do this anymore”

“I think, it would be best, if we just called it quits”

“You’re just too toxic for me”

“Goodbye”

Those words replayed in your head like a broken record, like a broken melody that you can’t seem to comprehend. Those were the last words, Jake said before he walked out of your life one year ago. But it feels like just yesterday, the pain and suffering, still fresh like newly painted walls.

Here you stand in the rain, your hair and body getting beyond drenched, but you just stood there lifeless, alive but dead inside. You stare at the families and couples in the park, Jake always loved parks you thought to yourself. He would, always surprise you with a picnic dates, just you, him, and his dog Layla.

You didn’t even realize you were crying, until you realized the water falling down your face wasn’t just from the rain, but a shower of your tears. You missed him so much, god so so much, you yearned for his touch, you yearned to hear his soft voice. You didn’t realize, you started walking again, until a loud car horn knocked you out of your train of thought.

“Hey! get your head out of the clouds lady, and watch where the fuck you’re going” The older male screamed from his car, glaring at you one last time, before he sped off in a hurry. You barely reacted, as you continued to mope across the street, your face drained of life and vibrance.

You made it back to your lonely apartment, the silence being so loud. Your apartment was a mess, you haven’t cleaned your apartment since the day Jake left, it reeked of rotten food and dirty laundry that you have yet to wash. You sighed exhausted, plopping down on your bed, as you set in silence.

Like a waterfall, the tears kept flowing down your cheeks, how could he leave you? Didn’t he love you? Weren’t you supposed to be his everything? You questioned yourself, as a wrecked sob erupted from your chest, you just wanted to turn it off the pain hurts so bad.

Suddenly the sound of your phone buzzing, interrupted your crying session, you wiped your cheeks quickly and aggressively, before picking up your phone. You looked at the Caller ID and saw that it was your best friend Dina calling you.

You haven’t really spoken to anyone since you and Jake’s breakup, in fact, you blocked half of your contacts except your mom, Dina, and of course Jake’s but he definitely has you blocked, he might have even deleted your number. You sighed before clearing your throat, trying not to make it obvious, you’ve been crying your eyes out.

“Hello” You said, your tone came out low and wrecked, you cringed upon hearing your own voice, you almost forgotten how your own voice sounded like.

“Y/!?! Oh my god, you finally answered, why haven’t you’ve been returning my calls?” Dina’s voice ringed through the line, her voice carrying a tone of concern, and relief that you finally answered. You bit down on your lip so hard, that blood started to draw from it, the bitter metallic taste hitting your tastebuds.

“I’ve been busy” You said nonchalant, your tone lack of empathy and compassion. You heard Dina sigh over the phone, the sound of a turning signal comes through the line, indicating that she’s driving.

“Too busy, that you can’t even call your best friend since 1st grade back?” Dina replied, she sounded kind of hurt by the lack of care you have, at the fact you both haven’t spoken for over a month. Your grip on your phone tightened, you loved Dina, of course you did, but right now all you wanted was to be alone and hope to drain in your sorrows.

“Look Di, I just have a lot on my plate right now, I’m sorry I haven’t been returning your calls. Have you spoken to my mother?” You inquired, you had totally forgotten you had a mother, a mother that loves and cares about you so much but you’ve abandoned her.

“Everyday she calls, asking if I was able to get ahold of you, she misses you Y/n and she’s worried sick. You should call her, don’t keep worrying your mother and me” Dina said, you went silent, before finally replying with a low “Okay”.

“I’m coming over” Dina said, you could hear the faint sound of her engine roaring, indicating she’s speeding down the road. You rolled your eyes, before responding.

“You didn’t ask me, if you could come over, to my place” You said annoyed, adjusting your position on your bed. You didn’t want Dina to see you like this, but you knew there was no changing her mind.

“Last time I checked, I’m your best friend since forever, I don’t really need to ask for permission. Dina chuckled, you didn’t even try to stop her or put up a fight, your energy was low and completed.

//

“God Y/n, what is that awful smell in here. What are you hiding a body in here or something? Dina said, making a gag noise, as she pinched the bridge of her nose, to keep the funky scent from traveling into her nostrils.

“Yeah sorry, I haven’t really been able to clean this place up yet” You mumbled, moping into the kitchen and grabbing a glass of water. Dina looked at you with disappointment, worry, and sadness. You weren’t the Y/n she once knew, you were depressed, lazy, and dead to the world.

“You gonna tell me what the fuck is going on with you Y/n? Because this isn’t you, the Y/n I know, would never let her apartment smell and look like this. Dina said sternly, folding her arms across her chest. You looked away from her, swallowing harshly, before replying honestly.

“I’m just still not over Jake, I just can’t believe he left me Di, after three whole years of dating he just abandoned me” like an ON switch, the waterworks came crashing down, as you were hysterical crying. As the past events, of Jake walking out that exact same front door, that Dina just walked into 5 minutes ago.

“Y/n baby, it’s been a year since you and Jake broke up, it’s about time you move on and start a new chapter in life” Dina said, rubbing soothing circles on your back, and looking at you with a sympathetic look on her face. The thought of, starting a new life, without Jake by your side made your chest tighten.

What was life if Jake wasn’t in it? Was it worth living? You couldn’t go on, knowing that Jake’s out there somewhere, still breathing, living his best life. While everyday, you’re here in your lonely shitty apartment, living in your own personal hell picked out just for you.

“You don’t understand Di, I’m nothing without him, he’s the reason for my existence, he’s the oxygen to my lungs, I’ve never loved someone like I love Jake” Your voice quivered, your lips trembling, as you reminisced about the times Jake would wipe the tears off your face whenever you cried.

Dina didn’t know how to respond to that, instead she blurted out the first thing that came to her mind.

“Let’s go out tonight” Dina quickly said, you looked at her in disbelief, shocked that she would even suggest you go out in the position you were in right now. Of course Dina knew you weren’t in the best shape to be going out clubbing, but she was desperate to get you out of your slump.

“What do you mean go out? Like clubbing? I don’t think that’s a good idea Di, I’m not really in the right headspace. You replied, you could feel the anxiety creeping up on you like a ghost, the thought of going out and acting normal like you weren’t going through hell made you sick to your stomach.

“On come Y/n, you need this, you need to put yourself out there again and forget all about Jake Sim.” Dina said, coming over and grabbing you up from the bed, you whined and groaned telling her to let you go, but she wasn’t letting up.

“This is not an option, you’re hitting the club tonight and you’re getting laid” Dina said, rummaging through your closet, to find an outfit that was “club appropriate” she said. You just stood there watching her, rolling your eyes, and mumbling stuff under your breath.

Finally she pulled out a short red dress, with a slit on the side, that was pretty high. You rolled your eyes, watching as she turned around and threw the piece at you, wiggling her eyebrows for you to put it on. After several tries, of persuading you to put on the dress and go out tonight, Dina finally succeeded.

“You look hot as fuck babe, promise you will meet someone tonight, that’s going to make you forget all about Jake” Dina said, as she stood by you in the mirror, the both of you checking out yourselves in the mirror.

“Operation forget all about my ex, is now in motion”

//

The club was packed like usual, bodies on bodies, and the smell of alcohol and sweat lingered all over the crowded room. Here you stood idly in the corner of the club, the dress feeling uncomfortably tight to your skin, and the loud music blasting through the speaker was causing you a headache.

“Here I got you a drink” Dina came from the bar, handing you a glass of some pink looking drink, you took the drink immediately, taking a big sip of it. Dina just chuckled and downed hers as well, the drink was actually pretty good and you’re definitely going to be ordering one again.

“How are you feeling? You’re not feeling uncomfortable right, just say the word and we can leave right now” Dina said, her tone carrying a sense of encouragement to it. You waved her off, and told her you were feeling okay, for once you actually started to feel alright.

“I’m good, I’m acutely kind of thankful you dragged me out tonight, I would still be crying in my bed right now.” You reassured your best friend. You started to awkwardly scan the club until your eyes landed on a particular figure. You could only see the back of him, he was a pretty tall gentleman, kind of long black silky hair and dressed in a latter jacket and jeans.

You thought he seemed so familiar to you, so you continued to eye him down. It wasn’t until he finally turned around, did you realize exactly who he was. Your heart dropped to your ass, when you took in the appearance, of the gentleman at the bar. It was Jake, your Jake. Your breath hitched, your heart rate picking up, as you watched Jake laugh and talk with the group of guys he was with.

You recognized some of them, especially Heeseung, Jake’s best friend since grade school. You couldn’t believe after a year, you’ve finally ran into him, after so many times of lingering around the spots and places you and Jake used to go to, you never would have thought you would finally see him at a nightclub.

You were frozen in place, you could feel the butterflies erupting in your stomach, as you listened to Jake’s signature laugh that echoed throughout the club, you always adored his laugh, it was the most satisfying thing in the world. You looked to see Dina already dancing with a random guy, so you decided you would go say hi to him.

You were so nervous, so so nervous. You didn’t know what to say to him, should you ask how he’s been doing? Should you ask him why he left you? Should you drop to your knees and beg him to get back with you? A million thoughts ran through your head, as you slowly made your way over to Jake’s section.

“Long time, no see Jake” You said, your voice low and calm” Like time had stopped, Jake turned around to face the voice that he was all too familiar with. His eyes widened when he realized it was really you, his ex girlfriend, the girl he left in the past and wished to forget a year ago.

“Y-Y/n, what are you doing here” Jake tripped over his words, swallowing hard, as he continues to stare at you like a stranger. You could feel your heart breaking slowly, the way he looked at you was so nerve wracking, the light no longer shining in his eyes, only distaste and lack of affection.

“I’m here with Dina, is that such a problem Jake?” You asked, your voice cracking and quivering. Jake swallowed again, before running his hands through his silky hair. Even though you were heart broken, your heart still aches for him, you still yearn for his touch and love.

“No not at all, as you see I’m here with my friends as well, you remember Heeseung, Jay, and Sunghoon right?” Jake said awkwardly, swirling the tequila around in his cup, as his friends greeted you. Your lips twitched into a little smirk, as you realized Jake still love to drink tequila.

“Your hair’s gotten longer Ikeu” You smiled at him, your eyes full of love and lust. Jake’s body tensed at the old nickname you used to call him, you frowned at the look of discomfort written on his face, you were so confused why he was acting this way towards you.

Before you could say anything, a females voice interrupted your conversation with Jake. She was a blonde chick, her body mimicking the super models you see in magazines, her eyes were dark brown and her perfume was so strong and potent.

“Baby! There you are, I was looking for you everywhere” the blonde girl cried out cutely, you watched as she came up to Jake and hugged him, kissing him on his lips. You felt your heart sink like a wrecked ship, your blood starting to boil, and tears starting to prick at your waterlines. Jake looked at you with an unreadable expression, but you could see the discomfort in his face that you were still standing there.

“Who’s this babe?” The blonde girl asked, looking at you with a nasty look on her face. Jake looked at you in the eyes, before he grabbed ahold of her waist, pulling her into his lap before starting to leave little wet kisses on her neck.

“Just an old friend babe, nobody you need to worry your pretty little head about.” Jake said smugly, smirking as he watched the tear finally dropped from your eye. You couldn’t believe what you were witnessing, who was this guy? This wasn’t the Jake you fell in love with three years ago, the guy who asked you to be his girlfriend over ice cream and a movie date.

You quickly turned around and ran out the club, your face covered in tears and snot, as you let all of your emotions out. Here you sat on the side of the road, letting your emotions get the best of you, the scene of Jake flaunting his new girlfriend and kissing her neck in front you was making you feel sick.

Your name phone started buzzing, Dina was calling you but you hit ignore, turning off your phone, as you walked all the way home from the club. When you got into your apartment, you really let it out.

RAGE!!

You screamed and shouted like a maniac, as you started to break everything in your apartment, you grabbed the bat that Jake had left behind, as you smashed the flatscreen tv. You smashed the picture frame of you and Jake on your one year anniversary, you smashed the coffee table, you smashed and smashed until you couldn’t smash anymore.

Your chest was heaving up and down, you were wheezing with anger, as you cried hysterically, chanting out why you, why you out of all people, and how you have Jake Sim’s guts. But deep down you knew you could never hate him, no matter how much he hurt you, you could never hate him.

But there was one person you did hate.

HATRED!!

“I FUCKING HATE YOUR GUTS, YOU BLONDE UNLY SKANK AND I PROMISE YOU I’ M GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU” You screamed out loud, as you stared at yourself in the mirror, the person that stared back at you was someone else, the old Y/n was gone, the demon thats buried deep inside you, has finally come out to play…

You were going to murder Jake’s new girlfriend.

//

“Dude you literally have the worst luck known to mankind” Sunghoon said, chuckling as he takes a big sip from his water bottle, letting out a dramatic ‘Ah’ sound. Jake sighed, as he started to slow the speed of the treadmill. He hoped off the machine, grabbing his towel off the rack and wiping the sweat off his forehead and neck.

“Save it bro, never thought I’ll run into her again” Jake sighed again, as he runs his hands through his hair frustratedly. He can still see the look on your face from yesterday, the death glare you gave his girlfriend, had him feeling uneasy inside.

“I mean, it’s good to know she’s still hot” Jay said, coming around the corner, as he takes a big gulp of his Gatorade. Jake rolled his eyes, and flicked Jay off, Jay always had the hots for you, but he would never act on it and betray his best friend, he sees what time of timing you’re on.

“Well my Chaewon is better, but enough about my crazy ex girlfriend, I wanna be able to sleep good tonight.” Jake said before hopping back onto the treadmill, continuing his workout.

What they all didn’t know, was that you were hiding in the back of the gym, a hat on your head and a mask covering your face. Chaewon huh?that was her name, you smiled evilly to yourself, as you let her name roll off your tongue. It didn’t take long to find Sunghoon’s instagram, and find out what gym they all worked out at, I mean the dude is a social media fanatic.

You watched as Jake ran on the treadmill, droplets of sweat dripping down his toned torso and forehead. You bit your lip, letting out a quiet whimper, as you started to feel an ache forming between your legs. Your panties were getting soaked, with your arousal, you couldn’t wait to be able to have Jake inside you again.

“Soon you will be mines again Jakey” You whispered to yourself and smirked before walking out of the gym. When you got back to your apartment, you immediately started researching Chaewon, and stalking their social media accounts. It was almost too easy to find her, being you found out indeed she’s a model.

On her page there were pictures of her in designer clothes, and on trips to foreign destinations. But what really made you want to rip her head off her body, was the picture of her and Jake, they were in the picture kissing each as they held hands in the park.

THE SAME PARK HE ALWAYS TOOK YOU!

You could feel yourself heating up, you were boiling with rage, and you couldn’t wait to release it on her.

“Pretty soon, I’m gonna rip that little smile right off your face, Chaewonie” you chuckled before slamming your laptop closed and rubbing your hands together menacingly.

//

You sat quietly in the corner of the ice cream shop, your hat and mask covering your face, as you watched Jake and Chaewon on their ice cream date. Jake loves ice cream, cookies and cream to be exact, you also loved that ice cream flavor, that’s what you two always had in common. You watched as they fed each other’s ice cream, like a happy little couple.

Your fist clenched at your sides, your flesh and knuckles turning white, from how hard you’re squeezing your hands. They both laughed and talked, and of course Chaewon took a bunch selfies of them together. It’s funny how Jake is taking her everywhere he always took you.

The park, the ice cream shop, the movie theater, the beach, you couldn’t help but smirk and think that Jake still loves and misses you, you still have him wrapped around your finger you just know it.

You hated seeing him happy, why did he think he could be happy without you? Why did he even think he was allowed to be happy and move on with his life, without you by his side. You could feel your heart rate quickening again, that tight lump in your throat forming.

You wanted to end it now, drain the life out of her body, as you watched her body slowly turn cold and pale. You wanted to torture her slowly, as Jake watched, his precious little Chaewon die right in front of his eyes. You didn’t realize you were crushing your coffee cup, until you felt the hot liquid run down your skin.

But nothing was more painful than seeing your beloved, eating your favorite ice cream with another woman. You took one last look at them before getting up from your seat and storming out. Jake watched the door to the ice cream shop slam opened and shut. His eyes frowned, when he saw the back of the women that just stormed out of there.

If he wasn’t mistaking, he would say the women’s figure resembled you, but maybe he was just going crazy. Little did he know it was you, and you had been stalking him and Chaewon this whole time. But sooner or later he will find out, and it won’t be a pretty sight to see.

//

“Dude I’m telling you, I think Y/n is stalking me and Chaewon, I don’t know I just get the feeling that was her” Jake said in distressed, as he picked at his ramen, no longer hungry for the savory goodness.

“Oh come on dude, I think you’re just being paranoid, there’s no way Y/n would go as far as stalking you.” Heeseung said, his mouth full of ramen, as he took a big sip of his can coke.

“You don’t know Y/n, like I do Hee, she’s a fucking psycho. Do you remember when we all went on that camping trip, and One of Jay’s friend girls was hitting on me. Well the poor girl woke up to all her hair falling out the next morning.” Jake said, shaking his head, as he replayed that memory in his head, you always took things to the extreme.

“Ehh I mean she kind of had it coming, Plus hasn’t Lia always thrown herself at you? She was dumb to do it in front of your girlfriend” Heeseung said, shrugging his shoulders and smirking.

“Ex girlfriend you mean, but seriously dude, I’m going crazy, it’s like I can feel her everywhere. Like she’s watching my every move, just like last night, I felt like someone was standing over me and Chaewon in the bed.” Jake replied, swallowing hard, as he looked around the room paranoid.

“Oh shit, do you really think she broke into you and Chae’s apartment? Don’t you guys have like some type of security system or something?” Heeseung said, his ramen now forgotten, as the conversation started to get interesting and serious.

“I’m almost positive she did, and I have proof” Jake said, pulling out an anklet bracelet from his pocket. It was gold anklet bracelet, with his initials on it. You always adored this anklet bracelet, in fact, you never took it off ever. The gold piece, was always dangling from your ankles, as he fucked you dumb in missionary.

It’s like you purposely left it there, as a warning, as a reminder that you’re watching him. And Jake could feel it too, his skin crawling, and the hairs on his neck standing up.

“Dude! I think you need to go to police station, and file for a restraining order” Heeseung said, his voice carrying a tone of, seriousness and fear for Jake. Jake placed his head on the table, sighing dramatically, as he ran his hands through his hair.

“I gotta talk to Chaewon about this”

\\

The sound of Chaewon’s footsteps, echoed throughout the dark alleyway, as she walked by herself: she had just gotten off work, and she was beyond exhausted. She was so ready to get back home to her bed, and also back to her sweet boyfriend Jake.

She pulled out her phone, sending a text to Jake, that she was on her way home. She smiled brightly at her phone, her fingers moving swiftly across her phone screen. Little did she know you were following right behind her, your footsteps slow and calculated. Your hoodie hung low over your head, your face full of hatred, as you watched the girl twitch her hips as she walked.

Suddenly Chaewon started to feel weird, like she was being watched. She turned around to look behind her, not seeing a single soul in sight, just the passing cars and the busy night city scene behind her. But she couldn’t shake the feeling, that someone was hot on her trail.

She started to quicken her steps, looking back and forth frantically, as she could hear footsteps coming closer but nobody in sight. She’s running now, her heart beating out of her chest, as fear takes over her body. Then suddenly she’s being grabbed, her life flashes before her eyes, before a sharp pain stings her neck and everything goes black.

//

Chaewon’s eyes fluttered open, she struggled to adjust to the bright light. Her head felt heavy, a sharp throbbing pain rushed to her skull. She looked around to see she was trapped inside an abandoned building, her arms and feet tied together, and duct tape sealed shut over her mouth. She tried to scream, tried to shout and set herself free from the restraints, but she was hopeless.

“Well, aren’t you a pathetic little thing aren’t you Chaewonie?” You said, coming from hiding in the shadows of the darkness, a menacing smirk on your face. Chaewon’s eyes widened, fear and confusion written all over her face. God you loved that expression on her face, her widened eyes with fear locked into them.

“I bet, you’re weren’t expecting this is how your Saturday night would go right?. Oh well would you look at that, looks like you and Jakey had a movie date tonight.” You chuckled sarcastically, holding up her phone in her face, she barely was able to make out the messages on the screen, from the tears falling from her eyes.

Chaewon didn’t know what the fuck was going on, why did you kidnap her? How did you know her boyfriend Jake? Was she really going to die here alone, by the hands of a psychotic stranger. She said something muffled, her body moving around, as she tried and tried to fight off the tight ropes wrapped around her body.

“Oh how rude of me, did you have something to say to me” You feigned innocence, and empathy, as you ripped the tape off her face. Chaewon winced at the sudden pain, breathing hard, as she struggled to regain control of her breath.

“W-Who are you, and w-why are you doing this?” Chaewon asked, her voice shaky and laced with fear. You giggled, before twirling the ends of your hair, slightly tilting your head to the side.

“Don’t you remember me?, the woman from the club, the other night? Jake’s so called old friend” You said, folding your arms across your chest, as you waited for her response. She stared at you for a moment, and then it her, the other night from the club, you were the woman who looked at her and Jake like you wanted to kill them.

You smirked at the realization on her face, stepping closer to her, and leaning down to be face level with her.

“Well, I hate to break it to you sweetheart, but I’m definitely more than just an old friend. I’m Jake’s first love, his first kiss, his first fuck, the only women that’s worthy of being in his life.” You spat in her face, your eyes dark with anger and resentment.

Chaewon stared at you back and laughed, her facial expression mocking. You frowned at her antics, your first tightening it’s hold on the chair, fuck was she laughing at? Did she think this is some sick fucking joke? Well, I mean I guess she should get her last laughs in, being that soon she will part this earth.

“Wow! Jake wasn’t lying, you are a crazy bitch!” Chaewon yelled, her eyes widened with disbelief and sarcasm. Suddenly, a loud smack, echoed throughout the quiet room. Chaewon’s cheek stung with pain, and turned a shade of red. Her ears were ringing, and her head felt stiff.

“Fuck you bitch! Jake’s a fucking lying piece of shit! He’s the reason why, you’re in this position right now. If, he would have never walked out of my life like he did, you wouldn’t be here facing your ending. You shouted in her face, your chest heaving up and down with rage.

Before you could continue on, Chaewon’s phone ringed, a picture of her and Jake popping up on the screen. You smiled, before picking up the phone off the ground, and waving it in her face before answering the call.

“Hey darling, where are you? Why can’t I see your location?” Jake’s voice came through the line clearly, his tone sounded concerned and worried. You faked a gag sound, before speaking into the phone.

“Wow, isn’t she a grown women Jakey? Didn’t know, she had to report to you like some little servant.” You chuckled, twirling the ends of your hair again, as you smiled uncontrollably over the phone, you loved hearing his voice so much.

“Y/n?! What have you done with Chaewon!” Jake shouted over the phone, you could hear muffled sounds of him moving around over the line. you assumed, he was gonna come to her rescue, and that’s exactly what you wanted. That’s right Jakey baby, come back to mama.

“Ouch! Didn’t think, you would think the worst of me baby, you know I wouldn’t hurt a fly darling” You fake pouted, cooing over the phone and giggling.

“Y/n stop, please stop with the damn games, where did you take my girlfriend” Jake yelled once again, his grip tightened on his phone, he knew he should have met up with Chaewon, when she got off of work tonight.

“CALL HER YOUR FUCKING GIRLFRIEND ONE MORE TIME, AND I SWEAR TO GOD, ILL GUT THIS BITCH LIKE A FISH” You screamed into the phone, picking up the knife, and pointing it at Chaewon. Chaewon let out a terrified scream, shaking her head frantically, begging you please not to use the knife on her.

“Okay, Okay! I’m sorry Y/n, I won’t call her my girlfriend anymore, just please don’t hurt her” Jake pleaded with you over the phone. You rolled your eyes before twirling the sharp object around playfully.

“Call me baby, and I might just spare her life” You said, a playful yet unhinged edge to your voice, sent an uneasy chill down Chaewon’s spine. You were fucking crazy!

“I’m sorry baby, so sorry, just please don’t hurt her” Jake cringed at his own words, he couldn’t believe he was calling you baby, knowing that his girlfriend was right in front of your face, and she could hear everything being said.

“Awe, you’re so cute Ikeu. But, you’re going to have to give me a better apology than that. You know, I’m a woman who believes actions, better than words, so how about you come show me just how sorry you are. I’m gonna, send you the location of where me and your precious little Chaewon are at, and you’re going to show up alone, or I can’t promise I won’t send you a picture of Chaewon’s lifeless body.”

“Time is ticking, Jake Sim”

//

Jake’s heart was beating rapidly, as he ran through the halls of the abandoned building. Anxiety is what he felt, the fear of what was to come, was Chaewon still alive? Did you hurt her? Was this all some fucked nightmare? Maybe if he pinched himself hard enough, he would wake up from this shitshow.

Suddenly, he heard a painful shriek echoed throughout the empty building. He recognized Chaewon’s cries, and he headed in that direction. Finally he stumbled upon an old surgical room, then he realized he was in an abandoned hospital.

The doors flew up to the surgical room, and there Chaewon was, her face red and bruised, blood dripping on the side of her face with a mean cut. And there you set in a chair in front of her, your legs crossed and a devilish smile plastered on your face. Jake’s heart sinked, at the image of his girlfriend bruised, and bleeding.

“It’s about time you show up baby, almost thought you going to stand me up” You chuckled, standing from the chair, as you made slow steps towards Jake, your hips swaying side to side as you walked. Jake eyes were full of anger and disgust, but that only turned you on more.

You looked him in the eyes, before wrapping your arms around his neck, and pecking his lips softly. Jake closed his eyes, as a tear ran down his face. He knew if he pushed you off, or rejected you, it would be consequences. So for Chaewon’s sake, he played along.

“Why are you doing this Y/n?” Jake said, his voice shaking and breathless. You smiled and bit your lip, grabbing ahold of his face, and caressing his cheeks.

“I’m doing this all for you babe, just wanna show you just how much I love you Jake. I would do the impossible for you, I’ll even kill a bitch for you” You said, looking back at Chaewon, and winking.

“Y/n… we ended our relationship a year ago, what we had in the past is gone now, the love we shared is non existent now.” Jake said carefully, slowly removing your hands off of him. Your smile dropped, your first tightening, your eye twitching with electric fuse.

“How could you say that to me Ikeu, don’t you see that we’re perfect for each other, our love for each could never die, our love is simply inseparable!” You shouted in his face, pushing at his chest, and getting all in his face. Chaewon sat and watched everything, she continued to sob, wondering how the fuck did she get herself in his shit like this.

“God Y/n! That’s only in your imagination, some fucked up fantasy, you’ve created in your head over time. We were never perfect for each other, our relationship was toxic, all we did was fight all the time and instead of addressing the elephant in the room, we just fucked it out.”

Your eyes were dark with anger, your chest puffing up with rage, you wanted to hit him so bad. But no matter how much he hurt you right now, you could never lay a finger on him. Instead you stepped away and put your face in your hands.

“Y/n, I’m sorry I hurt you, but the woman I love is Chaewon, and that’s not changing. Not now, not ever, what me and you had is done” Jake said, stepping away, and walking over to Chaewon. Silly Jakey for thinking it be that easy, he was hit in the back of the head with a bucket, letting out a pained grunt, as his body dropped to the ground.

You laughed hysterically, holding your stomach, and the knife that’s now back into your hand. You leaned down to look at him, caressing his face with knife, the sharp tip of it, tickling his cheekbones.

“Did you really think it would be that easy Jakey? You would come in here, and put me down with your words, and save your pathetic Chaewon.” You laughed out loud again, letting the knife slightly pierce Jake’s soft cheek, blood staring draw from the small cut.

You licked a stripe of his cheek, humming at the bitter metallic taste. Jake looked at you with disbelief, terror written all over his face, when he realized just how unhinged you are.

“You’re going to fuck me Jake, right now, right in front of your man stealing slut.” You spat, pointing the knife at Chaewon. A broken sob erupted from Chaewon’s chest, pleading with you not to do this. You just rolled your eyes, and ignored her pathetic sobs, as you cut the fabric of Jake’s shirt down the middle, exposing his toned stomach.

Your mouth was watering at the sight, your hands trailing down his chest, your eyes never leaving his. Jake let out a shaky breath, he felt so disgusted with himself, his body betraying him, feeling himself getting turned on.

You locked eyes with Chaewon, as you started to lick on Jake’s abs, slowly rolling your tongue All over his chest and vline. You could see Chaewon’s first clenching at her sides, you just knew her blood was boiling, and that only amused you.

“Gonna make you feel so good Ikeu, just surrender to temptation, and let yourself feel good.” You said, now unzipping your hoodie, showcasing the dark blue lace bra, your perky tits on full display. Once again Jake’s body betrayed him again, his cock twitching at the erotic sight.

Jake wouldn’t admit it, but he was always crazy about your body, when you guys first broke up, and he got with Chaewon. The first time he and her were intimate, it was the same. Of course sex with Chaewon was amazing, but she simply wasn’t you.

You climbed on top of him, staring deep into his eyes, as you started to leave little wet kisses on his neck. You smirked to yourself, when you felt his very obviously bulge, poking your clothed core.

“You see that Chaewon, his cock missed me so much, he’s hard, as a rock” You giggled, grinding down on his bulge. Jake bit down on his lip so hard, trying to conceal the sounds that threatened to spill from his mouth.

“Undress me Ikeu, take my bra off for me, play with my pretty tits” You moaned, your pussy soaking in his lap, clenching around nothing. Jake’s shaky hands came in contact with your bra hook, unclasping it, your big tits bouncing free.

“Fuck….”Jake didn’t realize he had said that out loud, until he locked eyes with his tied up girlfriend, across the room, sadness and betrayal all over her face. You giggled at his reaction, looking back at Chaewon, as you placed Jake’s hands on your boobs.

As if he was possessed, he started to grope your tits, looking up at you with an unreadable facial expression, but you could see right through him. You knew deep down he was enjoying this, you just needed to bring it out of him, and you were.

“Mmm baby, that’s right, suck on them pretty please.” You moaned, running your hands through his fluffy hair. Jake obliged pretty quickly, starting to suck on your perky tits, and lick your sensitive nips. Your body jerked forward, you let out a high pitched whimper, from the feeling of his wet muscle sucking your boobs.

Chaewon watched with horror, mortified by the fact that, the love her life is fucking another women right before her eyes. Her heart shatters, each time, a sinful moan rips from your throat, she looked away, her eyes puffy and red from all the crying she’s been doing.

Jake hates himself, hates himself for having a hard on, hates himself for being so unbelievably turned on by you right now. He should fight you off, defend his girlfriend, not sucking on your boobs right in front of his girlfriend.

You and Jake were both naked now, his head buried between your legs, eating your pussy like nobody’s else’s business. Your loud moans, echoed throughout the eerie quiet building, you looked down at Jake to see his eyes closed, a dried up teardrop visible on his face.

You wiped it away with your thumb, grabbing his hair tightly, as you lose yourself in the feeling of his heavenly mouth, eating at your pussy.

“Fuck Ikeu! That’s right baby, eat my pretty little pussy, ugh so so good baby” You whimpered softly, looking over at Chaewon. She was staring straight ahead, her skin pale, her face drained of the vibrance she once had, before you came along and ruined it for her. Jake told himself he was only doing this to keep Chaewon alive, but was he really?

He asked himself why was he enjoying licking and sucking, on your cunt? why did his tastebuds tingle with satisfaction, every time he flicked his wet muscle against your folds? He might been more sick in the head, than you. Jake’s fingers came in contact with your pussy, rubbing your clit, before sliding a finger inside you.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck Jakey, mmmphh please!” You cried out, you didn’t even know what you were begging for, you always lost your brain cells, when Jake would eat you out, fucking you stupid. He hummed against your pussy, too pussy drunk to be coherent. That sent you over the edge, your legs shaking in the air, as you came hard all over his face.

Even after you had came, Jake’s lips were still attached to your cunt, you pushed his head away, due to overstimulation. Jake looked over at Chaewon, and she was already staring at him. She looked dead inside, betrayed, replaced.

“I’m so sorry Chaewon, I’m so sorry baby” Jake cried, as he slid inside your tight hear, letting out a sigh of relief. You let out a pained moan, from the sudden right stretch, your pussy clamping down on Jake’s huge cock like crazy. He started to rock his hips, back and forth steady, fucking you deep and slow.

“Oh God, f-fuck, you’re so tight for me” He groaned, his strokes getting rougher, as he sets a brutal pace. You screamed to the top of your lungs, wrapping your hands around his body, clawing at his back.

“Yes Jakey, always gonna keep still pussy tight for you. It’s all yours, nobody else can have it!” You whimpered, when he put your legs behind your head, stretching you out, beyond your limit.

“Is that right? Never gave my pussy up?” He groaned, your pussy felt so good wrapped around his cock, he could feel himself slipping into the deep end, his stomach tightening. You replied with a choked out moan, nodding your head frantically, too dumb off his dick to speak.

You looked over at Chaewon, almost forgetting she was still in the room, tears streaming down her face, as he watched Jake fuck into you, like a mad man. You smirked at her, holding Jake tighter against you, as you both chased your highs.

“I told you Chaewon, I’m the only woman Jake would ever love, if he loved you like he- fuck! s-said he did, he wouldn’t be fucking my pussy right now” Jake’s head hung low, shame washing over his body, as reality hit him, it wasn’t about keeping Chaewon alive anymore, it was pure lust, pure want and desire.

“Oh Jake, I’m close, I’m so close baby, gonna cream your cock just how you like it” You screamed, the band in your stomach threatening to snap. Jake was also close, his cock twitching uncontrollably, balls tightening, as he neared his peak.

“Harder Jake, fuck me senseless, want your cum inside of me Ikeu!” You cried out, your pussy clenching snugly around his cock, heat rushing through your body, your legs shaking violently.

“No Jake please! Please stop, don’t cum inside her! I rather die than watch you creampie this psycho bitch” Chaewon screamed out, moving around in her seat frantically, trying everything in her might to break herself out of the restraints. But, Jake took a deaf ear to her pleas, too high and drunk, off the feeling of your pussy milking his cock.

“Shit baby, oh God! Y/n, I’m gonna cum baby” Jake grunted, his hips stuttering, before he shot thick ropes of creamy cum deep inside your gummy walls, letting out a guttural grunt, as he emptied out his balls entirely. His orgasm triggered yours, as you squirted all over his dick, he rubbed harsh circles on your clit, to prolong your orgasm.

The both of you, panted heavily, trying to catch each other’s breath, from the intense highs your bodies just experienced. You felt the room was spinning, your body was spent but satisfied. Jake pulled his softened dick out of your pussy, a hiss following from the sensitivity. He quickly got up, grabbing his clothes off the floor, throwing them back on.

He walked over to Chaewon, shame and guilt plastered on his face. She looked at him with anger, disappointment, and distaste. Jake swallowed hard, leaning down to face level with her, as he grabbed her hand in his.

“I’m so so sorry baby, I had to do it, if I didn’t do it she would have killed you, I would do whatever it takes to keep you alive.” Jake said, his voice shaking, as he kissed her knuckles, untying the ropes off her body. Chaewon didn’t say a word, she gave no reaction, as she fell out the chair, her limps weak from being restrained for hours.

Jake caught her, holding her tightly, and moving her hair out of her face. He kissed her forehead, apologizing repeatedly. You watched the whole scene unfold in front of you, Jake was just balls deep inside you, but still runs back to that skank. You got up, walking over to him, and yanking him off her.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?! You were just fucking inside me, yet you still care about this pathetic little skank you call girlfriend.” You screamed at him, pushing at his chest.

“Stop Y/n! I only fucked you, to keep her alive. Please Y/n, please just let us be.” Jake pleaded, helping Chaewon up off the ground, you continue to fight him, using your strength to pull him away from her. Chaewon saw that the knife you had was laying on the ground. She quickly ran to pick it up, before charging at you with it.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you bitch!” Chaewon screamed, before she charged at you with the knife, Jake turned around quickly, his eyes widening, when he realized what Chaewon was going to do. Panic surged through his body, his fight or flight instincts kicking in, as he grabbed the knife out of her hand.

Chaewon tried to fight Jake, trying to grab the knife out of his hand, and asking why is not letting her have the knife. Jake repeatedly told her not to kill you, to let you live and just turn you again, but Chaewon had other plans, she quickly grabbed you by the hair, wrapping her hands around your neck, as she started to choke you.

Jake saw the life leaving your body slowly, and he panicked, running over to where Chaewon was choking you, and threw her off of you. Chaewon flew back, her head hitting the ground hard, blood pouring out of her head, her vision slowly getting dark, her pulse slowly slowing down.

“Y/n, are you okay, Y/n can you hear me!” Jake shouted, tears streaming down his face, as he thought you were dead. You regained consciousness, gasping for air. You looked over at Chaewon laid on the ground, a puddle of blood, dripping from her head.

“Jake?” You said, your facial expression unreadable, as you pointed at Chaewon’s lifeless body. Jake turned around, his heart dropping, his face mortified, at the realization what he’s just done.

“Chaewon!” He shouted, and he was going to run to her, but you pulled back, pulling him into a tight hug. Jake tried and tried to get out of your grasp, but your hold was simply too tight.

“It’s okay baby, it had to happen, Chaewon was only a stumbling block in your life, to brainwash you, by keeping you away from your true love, me baby.” You whispered, wrapping your arms around him, as you smiled at him, tears gathering in your waterlines.

Jake sobbed into your neck, you patted his back, allowing him to let out all his sorrows. Did you feel bad that Chaewon was dead? Ehh, not really. Nothing or no one, was going to get in the way of you and Jake no longer.

Jake took one last look at Chaewon’s lifeless body, before you both walked out of the abandoned hospital, holding hands, a new chapter of your relationship was going to be filled.

“I love you Jake Sim, forever and always”

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖤𝗇𝖽．



A/n: oh my….. this was a lot?! The plot twist omg?! Guys this is like my first ever horror/dark themed fic, and umm I’m so impressed with myself. I hope you guys enjoy this unhinged project as much as i did! WARNING ‼️ this is dark theme, so if you’re not comfortable with this don’t read it! Reblogs and feedback is greatly appreciated🫶🏽

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Taglist:

@i03jae @kolawnk @ancnymcnzjy @ataver @ch4c0nnenh4 @jongloves @heejakeyy07whtv @jungwonsstrawberriesnchocolate @enhajakey @gildedsilk if I didn’t tag you, it’s because I couldn’t!😭

[galaxy-stardust]

Simon Ghost Riley x you

Nightfall

The trail was barely marked, more suggestion than direction.

Tall grass curled at your ankles, trees towering above like quiet sentinels, their limbs cradling the deep indigo sky.

You'd told Simon to meet you just after sunset.

No details - just that he'd need good boots, a flashlight (which he never uses), and to trust you.

He showed up in a dark thermal, sleeves rolled to the forearms, the glint of his mask catching the last breath of gold on the horizon.

"Where are you taking me, love?"

His voice low. Curious. A little amused. But ready.

"Somewhere the world doesn’t reach," you whispered, handing him a thermos of hot tea and a flashlight you knew he wouldn't turn on.

And then you walked.

Hand in hand, your steps softened by moss and fallen leaves. The hum of the world quieted until it was just breath, breeze, and the occasional flutter of wings.

He stilled when the first owl called.

Stared when bats dipped and danced like smoke through the trees.

But it was the fireflies that got him - when they blinked into existence like living stardust all around you, and you just stood there, bathed in the flicker of nature’s hush.

You leaned into his side.

"Do you like it?"

He didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he pulled you into him, arms wrapping around you tightly, his voice close to your ear:

"It’s perfect... because it’s yours."

He didn’t say much as the fireflies blinked around you, but his arms tightened slightly, the way they always did when his body said what his mouth wouldn’t.

You nestled against him, warmed by the tea, the silence, the way his chest rose and fell steady beneath your cheek.

“I thought you might like it,” you said softly, brushing your fingers along the fabric stretched over his ribs.

“I know you’re always watching for something out there. I just wanted… this. For us.”

He tilted his head down, nudged his mask against your temple.

“You brought me somewhere with no threat. No noise. Just you.”

His voice dropped lower, like a secret.

“Doesn’t get better than that.”

And he meant it.

This - you were the only thing that made him breathe easier these days.

You stayed a little longer, watching stars appear one by one, the Milky Way stretching like a silk ribbon across the treetops. His hand found yours and didn’t let go. Not once.

Eventually, the night deepened. The fireflies drifted away like a dream. The air cooled, and you gave a reluctant sigh.

“Guess we should head back…”

Simon stood behind you now, arms around your waist, head dipped so his chin just grazed your shoulder. “Lead the way, love.”

You nodded and started walking, confident for all of ten steps.

Then… another fork in the path.

And then another.

You kept your chin up, eyes scanning left and right as if you definitely knew where you were going. But branches didn’t look the same now. Everything was darker, even with the moon out.

Still, you kept walking. Even when you heard him chuckle softly behind you.

“Everything alright?” he asked after your third detour, the one where you doubled back and tried not to let him notice.

“Fine. Just… enjoying the long way,” you muttered, teeth clenched, heartbeat quickening a little.

Another twenty feet. A pause.

He finally caught up, walking beside you now instead of behind.

You glanced at him and found him watching you with a faint grin under the mask.

"Love," he said quietly, voice full of that low affection that always melted through your chest, "do you actually know where we're going? Or are we just… wandering?"

You hesitated.

"...Maybe I’m letting the forest speak to me."

He laughed. Actually laughed. Deep and rough and warm.

“Right,” he drawled. “And the trees told you to do a full circle, yeah?”

You stopped, defeated. “Okay. Maybe I’m a little turned around.”

Simon looked at you for a second, that fond softness taking over his face in a way he never let anyone else see. Then he stepped close, reached out, and gently tugged your jacket zipper up.

“I’ve known where we are the whole time,” he murmured. “Just wanted to see how long you’d pretend.”

You blinked up at him. “And you just let me get lost?”

“You weren’t lost,” he said, leaning in, pressing his forehead to yours.

“You were with me.”

Then he kissed you. Slowly. Like he had all the time in the world.

And when you finally parted, he reached for your hand again, tugging gently.

“Come on. Let’s get you home, trailblazer.”

[matts-hersheys-kisses]

"beneath the surface"

-matt sturniolo

warnings: eating disorder, suggested anxiety/depression, angst, body image

(dream)- salvia palth

Matt was the quiet one. Not in a shy way—just quieter than Nick and Chris. Matt was the one who saw everything and said nothing, which made him dangerous in a different way.

So when he started watching her—really watching—she noticed.

She just pretended not to.

--

It started in October. Or maybe August. The days blurred together now, like smeared ink in a notebook you didn’t mean to cry on.

She had it down to a science: excuses, distractions, lies that sounded like truth. "Already ate" was her favorite. "Not hungry" came second.

And it was fine. It was under control.

--

Until the night she fainted in the hallway outside her math class.

She woke up on the nurse’s bed, nausea curling in her gut, and Matt sitting beside her, arms crossed, jaw tight.

"How long?" he asked. No greeting. No warmth.

She blinked. “What?”

"How long have you been doing this to yourself?"

Her stomach twisted, but it wasn’t from the lack of food.

“I’m fine,” she croaked.

He looked at her like she’d slapped him. “Don’t lie to me.”

--

She didn’t think Matt cared that much. He barely talked to anyone unless he had to. He never flirted, never partied, never even joked the way Chris did or lit up a room like Nick. He just existed—leaning against lockers, hoodie half-on, watching the world through tired eyes.

But suddenly he was in her world. Loudly. Fiercely. And he wasn’t leaving.

--

The next day, there was a granola bar in her locker. No note. Just that. The day after, it was a chocolate biscuit.

On Friday, it was him.

Leaning beside her locker, backpack slung over one shoulder.

“You eat breakfast?” he asked.

She hesitated. “…Yeah.”

“Cool. Eat again.”

He held out a muffin. Blueberry. Her favorite.

She stared at it, then at him. “Are you serious?”

Matt’s face didn’t change. “Dead serious.”

--

The thing about Matt was, he didn’t treat her like she was fragile. He didn’t say the right things. He didn’t pretend to understand.

Sometimes he got mad. He’d clench his fists when she lied. He’d walk away when she pushed him too far. Once, she caught him kicking the vending machine out of sheer frustration.

But he always came back.

Even when she told him to stop.

Even when she told him she didn’t deserve it.

--

The worst day wasn’t the fainting or the hospital visit or even spending lunchtime crying in the school bathroom until her legs gave out.

It was the day she told him she liked being empty.

Not because she wanted to hurt him.

But because it was the truth.

Because empty felt safe. Predictable. Quiet.

Because fullness meant guilt and failure and losing control—and she was already losing so much of herself, she couldn’t afford to lose that too.

When she said it, Matt looked at her like she’d admitted to murder. His mouth parted like he couldn’t believe she meant it.

She almost took it back.

Almost.

But she didn’t.

And then, after a long silence, he said, “That’s not living. That’s punishing yourself.”

She couldn’t look at him. “Maybe I deserve it.”

“No,” he said, instantly. “You don’t. God, you don’t.”

And then his voice cracked a little, like maybe he was breaking too. “You deserve more than this. You deserve to wake up and not hate yourself.”

--

Later that week, she tried.

Just a slice of dry toast. No butter. Just something.

Matt sat across from her, quiet as always. Not judging. Just there.

You don’t need this. You’ll ruin everything. You’re disgusting.

She swallowed one bite. Two.

Then pushed the plate away, stood up fast. “I can’t—” Her voice broke. “I thought I could.”

She turned toward the sink, shoulders tense.

Matt spoke, soft but steady. “It’s okay.”

She didn’t move.

“I didn’t come to make you eat,” he said. “I came so you don’t have to do this alone.”

Her breath shook.

“I failed,” she whispered.

“No,” Matt said, stepping close. His arms wrapped around her from behind, steady and warm. “You tried. That’s brave.”

She didn’t answer. But she leaned back into him, just a little, and let herself breathe—for the first time that day.

--

Nick and Chris knew. Eventually. But they handled it differently. Nick hugged her without warning one day in the hallway, tried to make her laugh.

One night, Chris found her sitting outside on the porch swing, hoodie sleeves tugged over her hands.

He didn’t say anything for a while.

Just sat next to her, the swing creaking beneath their weight. A cool silence stretched between them, the kind that didn’t need to be filled.

Eventually, he said, voice lower than usual, “I used to think you were just quiet.”

She blinked, glancing over. “I am.”

Chris shook his head. “No. You’re hurting quiet.”

He rubbed a hand over his face. “I should’ve noticed.”

She didn’t answer.

“I think,” he said, after a long pause, “if you ever stopped showing up, even just one day… it would ruin Matt.”

Her throat closed.

Chris looked down, eyes glassy now, his voice barely there. “And it would ruin me too.”

She didn’t cry.

Not then.

--

She didn’t know how to respond to Chris.

So she didn’t.

They just sat there, the porch swing creaking under slow motion, her eyes fixed on the cracks in the wood beneath them.

Eventually, he stood, ruffling her hair gently before walking back inside.

She stayed outside long after the door closed behind him.

Later, when the house was quiet and sleep felt impossible, she slipped into the kitchen to get water.

Matt was there.

Leaning against the counter like he’d been waiting.

He didn’t ask questions. Didn’t mention her red-rimmed eyes or the untouched dinner still wrapped in foil.

He just opened the fridge, pulled out a chocolate milk, and set it on the counter beside her.

“I’m not hungry,” she murmured.

“I know,” he said.

She took it anyway.

Drank half of it in silence.

Matt stayed right there.

--

Matt always stayed.

On the days she ate, he’d sit with her. On the days she couldn’t, he’d sit anyway.

He never made her feel like a project. He never told her to “just eat.” He just existed next to her, like a constant she didn’t know she needed.

One night, she sat beside him in his driveway, knees pulled to her chest, hoodie swallowing her whole.

"I didn’t think anyone would notice," she whispered.

Matt looked over, eyes unreadable. "I notice everything about you."

Her breath caught.

He looked away, then back. “And I hate that you ever thought I wouldn’t.”

That night, he didn’t kiss her.

He just held her hand like it was the most important thing in the world.

And for the first time, she realised that maybe she wasn’t the only one breaking

if your struggling with an ed or anything at all, i'm here don't be scared to reach out 🤍

thank you for the suggestion ml

xoxo

-𝒜 💋

taglist - @hunyoucantresistme @angeliolo @chrepsi @imgoing-backto505 @ikyoudreamofme @iluvnicksturniolo @mattswrinkleton @shadowthesim237 @sturniolotripletlover @soplaap @emillionaireee @courta13

lmk if you want to be added/taken off the taglist x

[sh4nksslvt]

Hi! Could you write about katakuri and his childhood sweetheart. Like they were pretty close friends since childhood, she has been friends with him from when he didn't used to cover his face. But they never said 'I love you' to each other. And now that they've grown up, Big mom has asked(ordered) the reader to marry Cracker/Oven. She maybe confesses her love to katakuri, but him being the perfect son he is, doesn't want to disobey his mom, so he let the marriage happen.

I know requests are off, but if you like the idea, please do write about it, idc even if it takes like a month or two. I'm absolutely in love with your writing.

oohh! that is good! tis not much but, hope u like this!

The Sweetness We Never Tasted

You’ve loved Katakuri since you were kids. But Big Mom has chosen another path for you—and he won’t fight her to stop it.

katakuri x reader

tags: sfw, arranged marriage, childhood sweethearts, angst

a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ff cringe, and akward

word count: 1.1k

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

The air in Totto Land always smelled faintly of sugar, but today it was too sweet—so sweet it made your stomach twist.

You stood in the rose garden behind the Chateau, the very place where you and Katakuri used to sneak pastries as children, hiding behind the candy-cane columns and daring each other to steal more from the kitchen. Those days felt like dreams now—soft, distant, and a little too painful to look at directly.

And now, you were waiting for him.

You clenched your fists, heart pounding. He was late. Or maybe he was avoiding you.

No. He wouldn’t.

“(Y/N),” a deep voice rumbled behind you.

You turned.

Katakuri stood there, tall as ever, shadows cutting across his face from the low afternoon sun. His scarf was on, of course. He didn’t show his mouth anymore. Not to anyone.

Except you—once.

"You're late," you said, forcing a smile.

"I came as soon as I could."

There was always something different in his voice when he spoke to you. A softness hidden under the gravel. He glanced around before walking over to stand beside you, close enough that his arm nearly brushed yours. He didn’t touch. He never did. Not anymore.

"So..." You stared down at your boots, trying to summon the courage that had kept you alive in this family all these years. "Have you heard?"

He didn’t answer immediately. The silence dragged between you like the end of a rope—fraying, tension snapping strand by strand.

"Yes," he finally said. “Mama told me.”

You swallowed hard. “She wants me to marry Cracker.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t react. Only a subtle clenching of his jaw beneath the scarf gave him away.

“I didn’t think she’d do it,” you whispered. “I thought… I thought she’d at least ask me. Or you would. Before it got this far.”

Katakuri turned his face away, eyes focused on something in the distance. Maybe he was looking at the horizon. Maybe he just couldn’t bear to look at you.

“I’m not surprised,” he said. “It makes sense politically.”

You laughed bitterly. “Of course. Because that’s what marriage is in this family. Strategy.”

Another beat of silence. Your voice shook when you said his name.

“Katakuri.”

He looked at you now. Directly. It hurt.

“I need to know,” you said, barely above a whisper. “Did you ever feel it too?”

His shoulders tensed.

“When we were kids… when we were teens… when we’d sneak out after dinner to watch the stars from the rooftops… when you showed me your mouth and told me I was the only one you weren’t ashamed around… Did that mean nothing to you?”

You didn’t mean to cry, but the tears came anyway—quiet, burning down your cheeks.

“I always thought we’d have time,” you said. “That one day we’d stop pretending and actually say it. I waited for you to say it first. I waited for years.”

He took a step toward you. His hands twitched like he wanted to hold yours.

“I wanted to,” he said.

"Then why didn’t you?"

"Because I knew this would happen."

You blinked. “What?”

“I knew Mama would never allow it,” he said, voice low. “She doesn’t choose based on love. She chooses for power, for bloodlines, for strength. Cracker is a biscuit soldier commander—strong, obedient. You’ve always been one of her favorites. Of course she'd put you with someone she trusts.”

“But you’re her favorite too. More than Cracker. If you’d said something—if you’d just told her we wanted—”

“I couldn’t,” he cut in. “I’m not just her son, (Y/N). I’m her soldier. Her perfect creation. I do not defy her.”

You stared at him. “Not even for me?”

His silence was louder than any answer.

You stepped back like he’d slapped you. “You would’ve let me go without a word. Without knowing.”

“I thought it would be easier,” he said. “If you hated me. It would hurt less.”

You covered your mouth, choking on the sound that wanted to escape. “You coward.”

“I know.”

“I would’ve fought for you,” you said. “I would’ve burned everything down for you.”

“I know.”

You turned to leave. You didn’t want him to see you fall apart.

But his hand caught your wrist.

“(Y/N).”

You froze.

“I love you.”

Your breath hitched. You turned to face him again, slowly.

“What?”

He stepped closer. “I loved you then. I love you now. I’ll love you after the wedding, and I’ll hate myself every day for not stopping it.”

You stared at him, heart breaking in slow motion. “Then stop it.”

He shook his head. “I can’t.”

“Why?” Your voice cracked. “Why not fight for once? Why not just—”

“Because if I do, Mama will kill someone,” he said. “Maybe Cracker. Maybe you. Maybe one of your crewmates. You think she wouldn’t?”

Your voice died in your throat.

“I can’t risk your life,” he said. “I’d rather lose you than bury you.”

You collapsed into his arms without thinking, fists pounding against his chest.

“I hate you,” you sobbed. “I hate you for not loving me enough to try.”

He didn’t say anything. Just held you, trembling.

The embrace didn’t last long enough.

The wedding day arrived too quickly.

You wore the gown Mama picked. Something ridiculous and pastel with lace up to your chin and jewels that dug into your collarbones. Cracker looked pleased enough, though he kept grumbling about how annoying formal events were. He barely looked at you.

Your mind was elsewhere anyway.

Katakuri stood near the front, expression blank. You couldn’t read anything behind that scarf and those crimson eyes.

You were numb as the vows were spoken. Your lips moved, but they weren’t your words. When the crowd cheered, it felt like your ears had gone underwater.

Your heart stayed behind in that garden.

That night, you sat alone on the balcony while the festivities carried on below. Cracker was off getting drunk with Opera and Snack, bragging about how ‘lucky’ he was to get someone like you. You felt sick.

Behind you, the door creaked open.

You didn’t turn. You knew the footsteps.

“Shouldn’t you be with your husband?” Katakuri asked quietly.

You didn’t answer.

“I shouldn’t have come.”

“Then don’t stay.”

He hesitated. You could hear the tightness in his breath.

“Did you mean it?” you asked.

“Mean what?”

“When you said you love me.”

“Yes.”

“Do you still?”

“Yes.”

You turned to him. “Then why did you let them take me?”

He looked like he wanted to shatter.

“Because I thought I was strong,” he said. “But I’m just her puppet, (Y/N). We all are.”

You walked up to him, slowly.

“I would’ve run with you,” you said. “I would’ve left everything behind.”

He looked down at you. “You still could.”

“No,” you whispered. “Not anymore.”

You leaned up and kissed the scarf covering his mouth, just once.

Then walked past him, back into the room.

That night, Katakuri stood alone on the edge of the island, staring out at the moonlit sea.

He didn't cry.

But if he had, the ocean might’ve wept with him.

[lousypotatoes]

Would It Be A Sin

"You're my downfall, you're my muse

My worst distraction, my rhythm and blues

I can't stop singing, it's ringing

In my head for you~"

All Of Me - John Legend

--

Previous

Next

The night had settled deep over Hell. Even the Hazbin Hotel, so often alive with chaos and clashing voices, was hushed now, bathed in dim red-orange glow from the ever-burning skyline beyond its walls.

Y/N walked alone through the corridor on the third floor.  Most of the residents were asleep, or at least pretending to be. Even Alastor's eerie hums had faded from the halls.

She paused outside the old conservatory, a mostly forgotten room full of long-dead plants and cracked windows that overlooked the crumbling skyline. With a soft push, she slipped inside and shut the door behind her.

The room was cold and silent.

Y/N reached into her sleeve and withdrew a small golden seal, round, slightly warm to the touch, and engraved with divine symbols only an angel could read.

She hesitated. Then, voice barely above a whisper, she spoke the activation phrase:

"Veritas."

The seal floated upward, glowing with gentle white-blue light. It hovered before her, and a moment later, a voice echoed from within.

"Y/N,"

"Hello, Sera," Y/N whispered.

"Your silence over the last two weeks is noted. Have you found anything?"

Y/N stiffened. "Nothing yet. The hotel's residents are... flawed, of course, but not actively dangerous. At least, not in the context we feared."

"And Lucifer?" Sera asked. "Is he involved in corrupting the process?"

Y/N's fingers curled slightly. "He believes I'm here to observe. As Heaven publicly stated, to 'support the rehabilitation initiative.' That's what he thinks this is."

"It is not support," Sera said flatly. "It's surveillance. The Council agreed to give Charlie's project the benefit of the doubt, yes, but only under scrutiny. You are not a guest. You are an investigator."

"I haven't forgotten," Y/N replied, a bit more firmly than she intended.

"Then act like it,"Sera said more firmly. "You're getting too close. The reports we've intercepted about this hotel suggest potential ideological infection. You're not there to make friends with sinners."

Angeline's jaw tightened. "These 'sinners' are trying. Most of them, anyway. And the truth is more complicated than Heaven wants it to be."

Sera's voice was calm. "Complication leads to corruption."

"No," Y/N said, her voice low. "Complication leads to understanding."

The sigil pulsed, then dimmed slightly.

"Are your loyalties compromised?"

"No," Angeline replied. Not right away.

There was a pause. Sera seemed to weigh her words before speaking again."You have two months left. Two months left to investigate this hotel. And if Lucifer catches on to the true reason you're there, we deny everything. Understood?"

"...Understood."

The seal flickered once, then vanished from the air, turning cold and inert in her palm.

Y/N stood still in the dark conservatory, her hand trembling just slightly. She tucked the seal back into her sleeve, then slowly looked up at the shattered ceiling above her.

Outside, the stars were still out, distant, eternal, and indifferent.

She exhaled slowly.

Lucifer didn't know. Not about the real mission. Not about how little Heaven actually believed in Charlie's dream. He thought she'd come as a gesture of peace. A watcher. A diplomat.

And she hadn't corrected him.

That part hurt the most.

The library of the Hazbin Hotel wasn’t used much. It smelled of scorched wood and damp parchment, the shelves cluttered with cracked spines and forgotten knowledge. It was one of the few places in the building that felt quiet ,  which is exactly why Y/N had retreated there.

The pressure of her dual life was weighing on her shoulders like lead. She sat near a tall, warped window, where the eternal red light of Hell streamed through a cracked pane. A book lay open in her lap, but her eyes weren’t on the words. Her mind was replaying the night before,  Sera’s voice, cold and sharp as glass.

She didn’t hear him arrive.

“You know,” came Alastor’s smooth, lilting voice, “for someone with wings, you walk around here like you’re dragging chains.”

Y/N flinched inwardly. She slowly closed her book. “Alastor.”

He emerged from the shadows between the shelves like a stain bleeding through wallpaper, all crimson and teeth and tailored charm.

“You’ve been fascinating to watch,” he continued. “So careful, so polite… but never quite relaxed. Like a guest who knows the dinner party might end with a knife in the back.”

“I suppose that’s a fitting description of Hell,” she replied, voice guarded.

“Oh, certainly,” he agreed with a grin. “But not everyone here’s pretending they’re just observing.”

She tensed. Her eyes flicked to him, and he caught it.

“Ah. There it is,” he said, almost giddy. “The truth’s peeking through.”

Y/N rose from her chair slowly, spine straight and wings drawn slightly in. “You followed me last night.”

“I watched, darling. I listen. It’s what I do,” he said with a slight bow of mock civility. “And I saw something most interesting. You, whispering into a glowing sigil. A divine frequency, if I’m not mistaken. You were reporting.”

She didn’t answer right away. Her silence was answer enough.

Alastor took a step closer, smile unchanging but eyes sharper than glass. “So, what’s the truth, angel? You're not here to cheerlead this little redemption project, are you?”

“No,” she said finally, voice low. “Heaven lied.”

His smile faltered, only a fraction. Just enough to notice.

“They told Charlie they supported her plan. That they were sending me to observe, as a gesture of faith. But that was never the purpose. My mission was to investigate the hotel. Its residents. Him.”

Alastor leaned back slightly, the grin creeping back. “Now that… that sounds more like Heaven.”

She continued, each word tasting bitter in her mouth. “They don’t believe anyone here can change. They think the hotel is a naïve fantasy. A threat, even. If I report anything suspicious… anything they can use… they’ll shut it down. Quietly. Or violently, if they have to.”

Alastor’s chuckle was soft but humorless. “How poetic. Heaven sending a spy cloaked in feathers and goodwill.”

“I didn’t lie to Lucifer,” she added, sharper now. “I just didn’t correct him.”

“Oh, how noble,” Alastor said, clapping his hands once. “Still a lie of omission. And if he found out…” His smile widened cruelly. “Oof. That would sting, wouldn’t it?”

Y/N’s wings shifted behind her, restless. “You got what you wanted. What now? Are you going to threaten me? Tell everyone?”

Alastor tilted his head. “I could. But where’s the fun in that? No, no. I’d rather keep this between us… for now. Provided you continue being such a helpful little fountain of holy knowledge.”

“You want information,” she said, jaw tightening.

“Bingo!” he chimed. “I want the inside scoop. Heaven’s playbook. What they fear, what they want, what they’ll do next. Because I get the feeling this little hotel is just the first domino.”

She hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Fine. But I’m not telling you everything. Just enough to keep you quiet.”

Alastor’s grin never wavered. “Of course, of course. A little honesty goes a long way. So, tell me something useful, hmm?”

Y/N folded her arms. “Heaven’s been monitoring demon energy surges, especially concentrated ones. They’re worried Lucifer might be rallying power again. They’re paranoid he’s planning something.”

Alastor’s brows rose in genuine intrigue. “How delightfully paranoid of them.”

“They also believe Charlie’s project isn’t really about redemption. Some of them think it’s a front to manipulate Heaven’s politics. That she’s her father’s pawn.”

Alastor’s grin stretched. “Now that is juicy.”

Y/N’s face darkened. “They’re wrong. About her, at least.”

“And about you?” he asked, leaning in.

She didn’t answer.

After a long moment, Alastor clapped his hands together once, crisply. “Well! This has been absolutely enlightening. Don’t worry, dear. Your secret is safe… for now.”

He turned and began to walk away, humming a dissonant jazz tune as he vanished between the shelves.

But just before he slipped fully out of sight, he called back:

“Just remember, I don’t mind dancing with angels. But I never do it for free.”

The library fell quiet again, the air somehow colder than before.

Angeline sat back down in her chair, hands trembling just slightly as she reopened the book on her lap.

She had just made a deal with the Radio Demon.

And the worst part?

She wasn’t sure if she regretted it.

The Hell skyline stretched wide and blood-red above the Hazbin Hotel. The rooftop, while cracked and uneven, had become something of a refuge, a place where chaos below could be drowned out by the illusion of stillness.

Y/N sat at the edge, wings draped behind her like a blanket of starlight, legs folded beneath her. She hadn’t said much since coming up here. She just wanted air, space, after her encounter with Alastor earlier that day.

Then came the familiar shift in the air, the subtle hum of old magic and charm.

Lucifer appeared beside her, just far enough away to respect her space but close enough that she could feel the quiet gravity of his presence.

“Evening,” he said, voice soft, less theatrical than usual.

“Hello,” she replied, looking up at him with a tired smile. “Didn’t expect you to come up here tonight.”

“I could say the same to you,” he chuckled, settling beside her with a sigh. “Seems we’ve both made this place our escape.”

She nodded, watching the fake stars pulse in the Hellish sky above. “Not exactly the same as Heaven’s view.”

“No,” he agreed, leaning back on his hands, eyes on the horizon. “But it has its charm.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, the kind that wasn’t awkward but filled with unspoken thoughts neither had quite worked out yet.

Finally, Lucifer exhaled and said, “You ever think about the past too much?”

Y/N glanced at him. “You mean all the time, or just tonight?”

He smiled at that, a real one, faint and worn.

“I’ve been thinking about Lilith,” he said quietly.

That caught her attention.

Lucifer rarely brought her up. He talked about Charlie. About the hotel. About power and sin and pride and rage. But not Lilith. Not the woman he built a kingdom beside.

Y/N shifted slightly, giving him her full attention.

“I keep replaying everything in my head,” he murmured. “Like maybe if I just… handled it differently, we wouldn’t have ended the way we did.”

“She loved you,” Y/N said, gently. “And you loved her.”

“I did,” he said, staring at the city lights below. “But we changed. Hell changed us. We were a storm in the beginning, full of fire and defiance. It felt invincible. But eventually, the storm burned itself out.”

He paused, swallowing hard. “I wanted to believe we could hold it together for Charlie. But that just made everything worse. We weren’t partners anymore, just ghosts trapped in the same castle.”

Y/N’s heart ached for him. She knew the Lucifer of Heaven, the bright, clever, arrogant rebel who once lit up every room like a supernova. And now, here he was, stripped down and tired, grieving not just a marriage, but a life he’d lost a long time ago.

“She left because she needed something you couldn’t give anymore,” Y/N said carefully. “That doesn’t mean you failed. It just means… you both changed. And that’s okay.”

Lucifer looked over at her, eyes glassy but not wet. “I think the worst part is how empty it felt afterward. Like I was still playing king, but the throne didn’t fit anymore.”

She reached out and gently placed her hand over his. “You’re not alone, Lucifer. Not anymore. You have Charlie. You have this insane hotel full of sinners who’d throw themselves into fire for her."

 “And you’ve done more for me than you realize.”

His gaze softened. “You mean that?”

She nodded. “You’ve made Hell feel… not like home, exactly. But like somewhere I can breathe. Somewhere I don’t feel like I’m just carrying out someone else’s plan.”

Lucifer turned his hand over, threading his fingers with hers gently. “That’s what I always wanted,” he said. “For someone to choose to be here. Not because they were damned or broken or banished… but because they wanted to stay.”

Y/N leaned her head on his shoulder, wings curling slightly around them both. “Then maybe you’ve finally got that.”

They sat like that in silence again, not heavy this time, but soft. Peaceful.

Just two old souls under a false sky, healing together.

I PROMISE I PROMISE IM GONNA UPDATE MORE I PROMISE

stay safe and drink lots of water <33

xoxo, Izzy

Taglist <3

@vififofum

if you would like to be added to the taglist, lemme know <3

[lanadelspray02]

HOLD ME ANYWAY: CHAPTER 4

paige x azzi

warning: none

This chapter gives insight into azzi at home away from college, and finally reveals why she's so mysterious. enjoy :) please comment or send anons and let me know how you like it, very much appreciated!

crossposted ao3 here

masterlist here

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

The soft hum of cartoons filled the cozy living room, broken only by the sound of small, determined feet pattering across the hardwood floor.

Azzi leaned back on the worn sectional, one hand lazily flipping through Ruby’s picture book, the other holding a lukewarm cup of coffee her mom had pressed into her hand ten minutes ago.

Ruby was in full toddler chaos mode, dragging her favorite stuffed bunny by one floppy ear, curls bouncing with every wobbly step.

Wild brown curls — exactly like Azzi’s when she didn’t wrangle them into a bun for practice — framed her bright, curious face. Her big brown eyes gleamed with mischief, and every time she caught Azzi watching her, she flashed a grin so wide her dimples popped out like tiny exclamation points.

Azzi’s heart squeezed tight at the sight.

She was so small. So innocent. So perfect.

A smaller, softer mirror of herself — except Ruby’s world hadn’t taught her caution yet. She loved with her whole messy, fearless heart.

“Ma-ma!” Ruby chirped, letting go of her bunny to toddle toward Azzi with outstretched hands.

Azzi set the book down just in time to catch her, scooping her into her lap.

“Hey, Roo,” she murmured, kissing the top of her daughter’s head.

Ruby giggled, burrowing into her hoodie, dimples deepening.

In the kitchen, Katie bustled quietly, packing a small lunchbox for Ruby’s daycare drop-off. She caught the moment and smiled — soft, a little tired, but endlessly proud.

“You’re her favorite person, you know,” Katie said, folding a tiny Tupperware of strawberries into the lunchbox.

Azzi smiled faintly, smoothing Ruby’s curls with careful fingers.

From the hallway, Tim called out in mock protest. “Hey now, what about Grandpa Tim? I thought we had something special!”

Ruby popped her head up, waving one chubby hand in the direction of her grandfather’s voice. “Papa!”

Tim shuffled into the living room with a newspaper tucked under his arm, pretending to pout until Ruby squealed and reached for him too.

Azzi watched them — the way Tim lifted Ruby easily onto his hip, the way Katie tucked a loose curl behind Ruby’s ear — and felt a complicated ache bloom low in her chest.

They had saved her.

When Azzi found out she was pregnant her senior year, they hadn’t yelled. They hadn’t thrown her out. They had built a nursery in the guest room before Azzi could even ask.

They had sat with her through the long, hard nights. They had loved her and Ruby without question.

And when Azzi cried into her mother’s chest at two in the morning, convinced she’d thrown her future away, Katie just kissed her forehead and whispered:

“You’re not done yet. We’re not letting you be.”

It was her parents who encouraged her to come back to basketball. Who reminded her she still had a dream worth chasing. Who pushed her to take UConn’s offer seriously, even when Azzi didn’t think she deserved a second chance.

And now — now they watched Ruby most days while Azzi hustled between classes, practices, and late-night study sessions. Without complaint. Without resentment. Only love.

And Azzi? She loved them for it.

But sometimes… sometimes the guilt sat so heavy in her chest she could barely breathe.

Was she selfish? Was she chasing something that didn’t belong to her anymore? Could she be a good mother — and still want something for herself?

Ruby tugged at the drawstring on Azzi’s hoodie, babbling nonsense and giggling when Azzi kissed her cheek noisily.

Katie’s voice broke through her spinning thoughts. “You’ve got practice soon, sweetheart.”

Azzi checked the clock and sighed. Another juggling act. Another day of pretending she had it all under control.

She shifted Ruby onto the couch and stood, grabbing her duffel bag from the arm of the sofa.

Tim bounced Ruby gently on his hip. “We got her today. Focus on practice.”

Azzi nodded, shouldering her bag, but didn’t move right away.

Ruby reached for her again, tiny fingers flexing. “Mama,” she said, voice small but sure.

Azzi bent low, pressing one more kiss to Ruby’s forehead.

“I’ll be back, Roo,” she promised softly.

And she meant it. Every time she left — whether it was for an hour or for a whole day — Azzi carried Ruby’s smile with her like armor. Even when it scared her half to death.

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

By the time afternoon rolled around, Paige was already half-wired from two coffees and not enough sleep. She yawned into her sleeve as she jogged onto the court, the familiar squeak of sneakers and sharp slap of dribbled balls filling the practice gym.

Across the room, KK and Nika were engaged in an intense debate over which cereal was the superior pre-practice snack.

Paige smiled faintly and dropped her bag near the baseline.

Her eyes scanned the gym almost automatically, before she caught herself. You’re not looking for her, she lied to herself.

But she was. She always was now.

And there — near the far free throw line, hoodie sleeves pushed up, hair bundled into a messy bun — was Azzi. Moving through warm-up drills with her usual careful efficiency.

No dramatic smiles. No big entrances. Just quiet, focused effort — the kind that made it easy to forget how hard she was fighting to be here at all.

Paige’s heart kicked stupidly hard in her chest.

Coach clapped loudly, pulling them into groups for partner drills.

“Switch it up from last time!” Coach barked. “New partners!”

Paige turned toward KK out of habit — only to find herself face to face with Azzi again.

Azzi blinked at her, unreadable as ever.

Paige fought the grin tugging at her mouth. “I’ll take fate’s hint, thanks.”

She passed Azzi a ball casually, bumping her shoulder lightly.

Azzi caught it, balancing it on one hand like it weighed nothing, arching an eyebrow at Paige in that maddeningly cool way she had.

Paige smirked. “Try not to roast me too hard this time,” she said, dribbling lazily backward into a defensive stance.

Azzi’s lips twitched — a ghost of a smile. “No promises,” she murmured.

Paige’s heart flipped over like a coin in her chest.

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

They ran through passing drills first — quick touches, quick movements.

Paige found herself hyper-aware of everything: the way Azzi’s fingers brushed hers briefly during fast passes, the small furrow between Azzi’s brows when she concentrated, the effortless way Azzi’s feet slid across the court — muscle memory awakening after too long away.

Paige kept up a steady stream of nonsense chatter, half to keep herself sane.

“Think I could beat you in a foot race?”

Azzi, deadpan: “Not unless you grow wings.”

Paige laughed, shaking her head.

She wasn’t used to this — this easy back-and-forth, this want simmering just beneath the jokes.

She wasn’t used to wanting someone like this — not just their attention, but their real, messy, breathing self.

And Azzi — Azzi was making it way too easy to forget she was supposed to be careful.

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

They broke for water, breathing heavy.

Paige grabbed two bottles from the cooler and tossed one toward Azzi, who caught it one-handed without blinking.

Paige flopped onto the floor beside her, stretching her legs out in front of her. She tried to keep it casual. Just teammates. Just talking.

“You been to that diner before?” she asked, cracking her water open.

Azzi glanced sideways at her, guarded. “Once or twice,” she said, voice neutral.

Paige nodded, sipping her water. “You got a go-to comfort food?”

Azzi hesitated. Tiny. Barely a second. But Paige caught it — the way her fingers curled tighter around her water bottle, the way her shoulders tensed almost imperceptibly.

Azzi shrugged. “Busy lately,” she said simply. “Not much time for that.”

The wall came up so fast it left Paige blinking. The easy flow between them — the teasing, the tiny smiles — gone in an instant.

Azzi’s voice was polite. Controlled. Distant.

Paige swallowed her disappointment carefully. She didn’t push. Didn’t pry.

She just leaned back on her hands and smiled, soft and unbothered.

“Well,” she said lightly, “for the record, you strike me as a pancakes girl.”

Azzi’s mouth twitched — almost a real smile. But she didn’t answer.

And when practice resumed, she was quicker to move away from Paige’s touch. Sharper around the edges.

The distance had returned. And Paige — Paige felt every inch of it like a bruise she couldn’t stop pressing.

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

The gym door swung shut behind her with a heavy thud, the echo of it rattling through the near-empty halls.

Azzi tucked her hands into the front pocket of her hoodie and kept walking — fast, head down, sneakers scuffing lightly against the linoleum floor.

Her chest still felt tight. Too tight. Not from practice. Not from drills or sprints. From Paige.

From the way Paige had looked at her today — like she was something worth seeing. Worth knowing.

Azzi exhaled sharply through her nose, forcing herself to keep moving.

Outside, the late afternoon sun hit her like a slap — bright and warm and way too real.

She blinked against it, fishing her keys out of her pocket with clumsy fingers.

Her car was a mess. Empty coffee cups crammed into the console. Ruby’s blanket crumpled in the backseat alongside a battered stuffed bunny missing one ear.

Home and chaos and love and exhaustion all crammed into one little battered Corolla.

Azzi yanked the door open and slid inside, shutting the world out with a firm slam.

For a second, she just sat there. Breathing. Trying to shove everything back into neat little boxes inside her head.

Paige’s voice echoed in her ears — casual, teasing. You strike me as a pancakes girl.

And the look Paige had given her — soft and sure and open — like she wasn’t scared of what Azzi might say or not say. Like she was ready to stay anyway.

Azzi squeezed her eyes shut, gripping the steering wheel until her knuckles went white.

She couldn’t afford this. Not the way Paige made her smile when she wasn’t supposed to. Not the way Paige made her ache for things she’d locked away.

Normal things. Stupid things.

Things like late-night diner runs and falling asleep next to someone who actually wanted her — not for her game, not for her story, but for herself.

Things like feeling safe. Things like love.

Azzi let her head fall forward against the steering wheel, the cool plastic grounding her.

You don’t get that, she told herself fiercely. You chose differently. You chose her.

In the rearview mirror, Ruby’s blanket was still balled up on the backseat, pink and soft and waiting.

Azzi blinked hard, throat thick.

Everything she did — every second she spent pushing herself back onto the court, every brutal practice, every class she dragged herself through half-awake — was for Ruby.

There wasn’t room for anything else.

There couldn’t be.

Especially not for the way Paige Bueckers made her feel like maybe — just maybe — she deserved more.

Azzi straightened slowly, shoving the keys into the ignition.

The car sputtered to life. Music crackled low from the speakers — some old pop song Ruby liked.

Azzi put the car in gear and pulled out of the parking lot without looking back.

In the still, heavy silence of her own mind, she made herself a promise:

No more late-night talks. No more soft looks. No more chances to forget who you are and who you’re doing this for.

And maybe if she said it enough times, maybe if she built the walls high enough, she’d stop feeling like she was already losing a battle she hadn’t meant to start.

[foxaftershocks]

The Perfect Sunday Morning (Mycroft Holmes x f!Reader)

Synopsis: You have a lazy Sunday morning with Mycroft.

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: tooth rotting fluff, domestic!Mycroft

Padding down the stairs on bare feet, you pulled the sleeves of the jumper you were wearing over your hands. You’d awoken alone in the giant bed, pleasantly warm and comfortable. Finding the jumper, you hadn’t been able to resist pulling it onto your body before you went looking for your husband. Burying your nose in the wool, you breathed in the scent of his cologne. 

You followed the sound of classical music, wandering through the halls of the house. Stopping in the kitchen, you took the cup of coffee waiting for you, still steaming. You were slow to make your way into the living room, enjoying the coffee, rich and deep. You hummed along with the distant music.

Mycroft looked up from the book splayed in his hand, blue eyes sweeping over you as you stepped into the room. You smiled down at him, fingertips trailing along his shoulders as you made your way to the window. Looking out on the sun splashed garden, you curled both hands around the warm ceramic of the mug. You breathed deeply, the contented feeling washing over you.

“Is that my jumper?” he asked.

“You really have to ask?” you replied, turning to look at him over your shoulder.

“No, but I’d like to hear you say it,” he said.

“Yes, it’s your jumper,” you said, “I think it looks better on me.”

“While I agree, it appears as if you’ve forgotten something,” he said.

You turned, facing him.

“Oh?” you asked.

“Trousers,” he replied. 

“Don’t need them,” you said.

“You don’t?” he asked.

“Who’s going to see but you?” 

You settled on the couch beside him, kneels curled underneath your body. His hand curled around the back of your neck, playing with your hair. 

“I suppose I can’t entreat you to go fetch the paper then,” he said.

“Not unless you want the neighbours to get an eyeful,” you replied.

“Best not.”

You shuffled closer, resting your head on his shoulder. His lips pressed to your forehead, your soft sigh resulting in a small lift to the corner of his lips. He turned his eyes back to his book, softly reading out loud to you as you sipped your morning coffee. His fingers kept playing with your hair until you were melting against him. 

He knew how much you loved when he did that.

You let yourself sit there for a while, listening to him, enjoying the peace and the calm of your morning. The music was lovely, softly humming along under your breath, the low cadence of his voice making you shuffle closer. It was the kind of morning you’d dreamt of having one day, the kind you hadn’t thought could really happen, but here you were, living out your dream with your dream man. Sometimes you couldn’t believe how lucky you’d gotten.

Once you heard his stomach grumble, you sat up properly, laughing. His sheepish expression was one of the most adorable things you’d ever seen. Leaning back into his space, you pressed a lingering kiss to the corner of his lips.

“I’ll go make breakfast if you fetch the paper,” you said, “I want to do the sudoku.”

“Deal,” he said.

He lent back, watching you get up. His hand caught yours, drawing you back until you fell into his lap. His other hand, large and so very dexterous, cupped your cheek, bringing you back in for another kiss, this one longer. His hand slid up your leg, pushing up under the hem of the jumper you’d stolen. With such a featherlight touch, he could turn you breathless with ease. 

You loved him so much.

“Go,” he said once he’d released you, acting as if he hadn’t turned you into a mess in his lap, “breakfast.”

“Yup. Breakfast.”

You stood on unsteady legs, finding his rather smug face looking up at you. You tapped the end of his nose, smiling when he caught your hand, pressing a kiss to the middle of your palm. 

The sizzle of the bacon was loud. You had turned the radio on in the kitchen, hips swaying in time with the music as you made breakfast for the two of you. Before you’d moved in, the kitchen had been lifeless, empty, an unused room in the house. Now, you’d tried to bring life back to it, to turn it into the beating heart of the house. Mycroft had let you, giving in so easily when you’d first made the attempt. Now, it was one of your favourite rooms in the house, one of the rooms that held some of your favourite memories. The warm ones, the soft ones, the ones that made you melt with love.

Strong arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you against a body you knew so well. You hummed, flipping the bacon, feeling him sway with you. He dropped a kiss to the top of your head.

“Paper retrieved,” he murmured. 

“Good boy,” you hummed.

His arms tightened around you. 

“Bacon and eggs okay?” you asked.

He paused, long enough for you to wonder.

“What?” you asked.

“My diet,” he said.

“Cheat day,” you replied, “you’ve been doing so well, sweetheart. You deserve a treat.”

“Aren’t you my treat?” he asked.

“You have me everyday,” you replied.

“And I have been enjoying you thoroughly,” he hummed, face burying itself in your neck.

“Your bacon will burn,” you warned as his lips made contact with your skin. 

It didn’t stop him, his soft kisses making you tremble. You could always make more if the current batch burnt. Turning in his arms, you curled your arms around his neck, kissing him properly. He hummed into your kiss, holding you close. It was soft, lingering, taking your time given you had all the time in the world. 

“The bacon is burning,” he whispered into your mouth.

“And whose fault is that?” you said, spinning back around, flicking the bacon out of the pan.

“Yours for being so completely irresistible,” he replied, still holding you, “you’re perfectly indecent, darling.”

“You can’t blame me for your inability to keep your hands to yourself,” you said, even as you lent back against him, offering yourself to his wandering hands.

“I can and I do,” he said, hands slipping underneath the jumper, only finding bare skin on offer.

His lips continued to make their home on your throat as you fried the eggs, making you incredibly distracted. He murmured compliments into your skin, his plans for the day, snatches of quotes from books that reminded him of you, his voice a low timbre that made you shiver. You loved the sound of your husband’s voice, almost as much as he did. 

“Breakfast is ready,” you said, interrupting him.

He released you, taking his seat at the tiny table you’d dragged into the room. The huge imposing dining table was so unnecessary for just the two of you. This was far more intimate, which was what you always wanted with him.

You placed his plate down in front of him, dropping a kiss to the top of his head. Situating yourself across from him, he extracted the sudoku puzzle from the paper, passing it over to you. You slid your feet into his lap, extended over the length of the small table. 

You sang along to the radio under your breath as you filled out the puzzle, listening to the rustle of paper from your husband. The clatter of cutlery on the plates was the undercurrent to the music, your quiet comfortable. 

His fingers wrapped around your ankle once he was done eating, holding on, thumb brushing over your skin in a soothing pattern. You pushed the finished puzzle into the middle of the table, leaning back to watch him.

“You’re getting slow,” he said.

“You’re such a prick,” you laughed.

“Six minutes. You’re slipping,” he said, glancing up at you.

“I was a bit distracted by the handsome man sitting across from me,” you replied.

He tutted but his blue eyes were sparkling. You rested your chin in your palm, gazing over at him, smiling softly. His thumb ran along the length of your achilles tendon, such tenderness in his touch. 

“Are you going to watch me read this entire newspaper?” he asked.

“I’m just enjoying the view,” you replied.

“Not much of a view,” he said.

“Best view in the world,” you replied, not skipping a beat. 

“Not unless I’ve turned into a mirror,” he said.

“Read your paper,” you laughed.

He tossed you the crossword next. You twirled your pen in your hand before getting started on it. If there was one thing you knew about Mycroft, it was that he didn’t like to be the one under observation. Even if you enjoyed watching him so much. There was nothing so wonderful to look at in the entire world. 

You hadn’t known it was possible to be so in love. 

You tucked your hair behind your ear, feeling him watching. He enjoyed being the observer, and you were happy enough to be observed by him. You knew the way he looked at you was nothing like the way others did. His gaze was kinder, gentler, softer. It was the way you knew he was only interested in seeing you in the very best light, his gorgeous mind painting such a pretty picture of you.

It was the feeling of being adored. 

“Now who’s the one staring?” you asked when you were halfway through the crossword. 

“Best view in the world,” he replied, parroting back your own words at you. 

You shoved at him with the foot he still had a hold of. His soft chuckle was one of your favourite sounds. He tugged on your ankle. You stood once he released you, rounding the table. His arm caught you around the waist, pulling you onto his lap. With his arms around your waist, he picked up the paper again, reading the words printed on the page. You curled up against his chest, head resting on his shoulder, listening to him breathe. 

His lips pressed to your forehead, soft and warm, melting you. There was no place safer than in his arms, on his lap, in his heart. You closed your eyes, letting yourself relax against him completely, trusting him to keep you from harm. 

You loved Sunday mornings with Mycroft.

[vuseor]

Male! Alice x Female! Cheshire! reader

Summary - Aalis finds an old friend that resembles someone from his past.

On the way to Hatters, you think to yourself. Thinking was always one way to pass time without any fun friends. You missed that terribly fascinating boy that came to Wonderland years ago. Aalis was it? He was quite the charmer when he met you, constantly telling you how strange your world was, complimenting its strangeness. He disappeared not so long after you met him.

Oh well. People go missing in Wonderland all the time, was a shame such a fun time was stopped short.

“Aalis you have to try this tea! It’s simply revolting!” As you grow nearer you swore you could hear voices talking. As you approach Hatter and his gang of mischiefs, you see among them a man with silky blonde hair. He’s eyes lock onto yours and he’s smile widens.

“It’s the Cheisire! from my dreams! It’s really you!”

Your signature smile rests upon your face as you teleport to be behind his seat, caressing his face you nod. “Yes it’s me.. but i’m no mere dream. I’m very much real Aalis”

His eyes take you in, like you could disappear at any moment and never come back. You blush at him and take the seat next to him.

“So.. where were you Aalis? We all missed you very much. So strange to disappear from Wonderland, not even a toodle do” Hatter comments. Aalis looks around at the table in amusement, thinking that his brain had conjured a pretty good mixture of fun. “I must’ve woken up, I’m terribly sorry. I’m going to have to wake up again, of course. But I do wish I could stay dreaming forever”

You put a hand on his thigh and lightly caressing with your finger tips. Feeling him shudder underneath you. “Poor Aalis doesn’t want to wake up from Wonderland, what misery awaits you in the waking life I wonder?”

He looks down at his empty tea cup and sighs. “I’m being forced to marry a woman I barely know and don’t love. Mother hates all of my strange quirks even more since father died and everyone around me seems to be incased in a glass veil of depression, no wants to hear me out”

You look at him with a concerned expression, seems like the life he is regular seen in is very boring. The people sound worse than the ones in Wonderland!

“Except my best friend Y/N, she’s strange and sees things like I. I don’t see her around anymore though, seems like she’s always floating away.”

Aalis had a faraway look in his face, eyes glossed like his resurfacing a memory. But before he could ponder more, a biscuit is thrown his way. Hitting him straight in the forehead. “Don’t be so glum Aalis! This is Wonderland, so effortless strange and beautiful. Don’t enjoy it while you can boy.” Hatter says, a crazed look in his eyes.

Aalis smiles and nods. He’s past worried fading away as he sinks into the madness of Hatters tea parties. But he wonders why he hasn’t noticed why you and Y/N look the same, nearly identical even.

-

It was time for Aalis to go. He had finished his adventures in Wonderland and was preparing to go back to his world. You and everyone gathered around him to say goodbye.

You hug him tightly, breathing in his scent. “You’ll be back Aalis? Promise” You whisper, you feel him nod and hug you back just as tight. You would always be waiting for him in Wonderland, same as everyone else.

He stands back and looks at you, thoughts racing in his mind. “You were always too quick for me” You smile widely and brush his hair from his face. “I’ve just been here to guide you Aalis, I’ve got no idea what your talking about”

He smiles back at you and kisses your cheek. His warmth spreading to your heart. You were going to miss him.

-

Back in the real world, Aalis returned to his feeble life. But this time he stood up for himself and declared he was not to marry. Instead he was to find his own wife and find a life that suited him nor anyone else.

When Aalis was getting ready for an expedition, you raced into his room one evening. Heart beating as you heard the news.

“You’re not going on the seas are you Aalis? You must be mad!” Aalis only looks at you and kneels down in front of you. “Y/N come with me. I can’t imagine living a good life without you. You complete me in every strange and effortless way”

His blue eyes look straight into yours, laced with security and sincerity. An cheshire smile widens on your face as you nod your head. “I see you’ve finally decided to leave your mediocre life behind Aalis, I would love to join you”

[cryptids-and-muses]

So I’m having one of my reoccurring dreams about my estranged family. It happens. But this time, in my old family home there’s this supernatural spinoff/reboot/sequel on the tv. I’m not even watching the tv in the dream mind you it’s just on.

The brothers are tracking this like doomsday cult as they do and SURPRISE castiel is back from super hell and he’s a mega powerful new kind of demon! And is the one the cult has been trying to use! And hes still in love with dean! Who’s too in shock to believe this is real or that’s really cas!

I don’t catch what happens next but later as I’m packing to go to the airport (another staple of these dreams) I’m listening to a video essay about how this continues the shows homophobic trend of treating gay love as monstrous and predatory. With tumblr discourse over how this was handled and if it was good or bad.

And can I just say, what a b plot

[missdynamighttt]

if husband! katsuki had a dream that you served him divorce papers, he would be SO mad at you.

katsuki woke up with a start, his chest heaving as the remnants of the vivid dream clung to his mind. in the dream, you had stood in front of him, utterly calm, as you handed him his worst nightmare: divorce papers.

“it's not you, its me,” you said, your expression indifferent as if breaking his heart meant nothing. "i'm just bored, katsuki."

it wasn’t real, he knew that. but the image of you walking away from him felt too real, too painful. the words echoed in his head as he sat on the edge of the bed, his fists clenched. bored? how could you say that after everything you've been through? even though it was just a dream, it shook him to near death.

and when katsuki saw you later that morning, smiling and greeting him like usual, he couldn’t help but scowl. normally, the sight would calm him, but instead, a strange sense of betrayal bubbled up inside him. how could dream-you say something like that? and why couldn’t he shake the feeling?

“morning, katsuki,” you said cheerfully, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek.

he turned his head slightly, causing your lips to brush his jaw instead. you blinked, confused. “uh… everything okay?”

“fine,” he muttered, getting up and leaving you all alone in the bed.

all day, katsuki avoided your texts, kept his responses curt, and barely looked your way when you crossed paths at home. you quickly realized something was off but couldn’t figure out what. by evening, you had enough.

"okay, whats your problem? you've been sulking all day,” you said firmly, standing in front of him while he sat on the couch. “you’ve been acting like i killed your damn dog. what did i do?”

katsuki glared at you, his emotions finally bubbling over. “you left me! that’s what you did!”

you stared at him, completely baffled. “what are you talking about? i didn’t leave you. i’ve been here all day!”

katsuki exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “fine. i had this stupid dream, alright? you—” he hesitated, the words catching in his throat. “you divorced me. you said you were bored and just... left me.”

for a moment, there was silence as you processed what he was saying. then, to katsuki’s annoyance, you started laughing.

“you’re mad at me... because of a dream?” you asked, your laughter bubbling out uncontrollably.

“it felt real!” he barked, his cheeks flushing slightly. “you don’t get to laugh! this isn't fuckin' funny! do you know how shitty that felt?!”

“i’m sorry!” you gasped between giggles, clutching your stomach. “it’s just… do you really think i’d ever do that?”

katsuki’s scowl deepened. “its not that. its just... you said it so casually in the dream. like i didn’t even matter.”

you tried to stifle your laughter, but your amusement was clear as day. “katsuki... you’re everything to me. i would never leave you. ever. especially not because i was bored. you’re the opposite of boring. you’re the most stubborn, infuriating, incredible man I’ve ever met.”

he grunted, looking away. “tch. doesn’t change the fact that it felt real.”

you bit your lip, guilt swirling in your chest. you could see how much the dream had affected katsuki, even if it wasn’t real. determined to make it up to him, you climbed onto his lap, straddling him, and cupped his face in your hands.

“i’m sorry your brain decided to torture you like that,” you said softly before leaning in to pepper his face with kisses. “but let me remind you of how much i love you.”

your lips pressed against his forehead, his cheeks, his nose, and finally, his lips. each kiss was light and playful, drawing a reluctant smirk from him.

“sweets,” katsuki muttered, trying to keep up the tough act, but you didn’t let up.

you continued your attack, kissing down his jaw and back to his lips, murmuring between kisses. “i'm so happy you're my husband.”

katsuki finally relented, his hands settling on your hips as he let out a low chuckle. “you’re fuckin' weird.”

“and you’re grumpy,” you teased. “but i love you anyway.”

“hmph. i love you too,” he admitted, his voice softer now as his arms wrap around you, brushing your nose against his. “sorry for being an idiot today.”

“you’re not an idiot. just... talk to me about it next time, okay?”

"fine. be my fuckin' wife for forever, 'kay?"

"i promise," you cut him off with a kiss.

and katsuki kissed you back, finally letting the tension melt away, drowning himself in the taste of your and your presence. you're here. you weren't gonna leave him because he was bored. you never would.

"tch. i’m still blaming you for my bad dreams though."

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

[moonlightwritingf1]

Lost in You | LN4

❥ summary ━━━━━━━ Lando accidentally comes inside Y/N for the first time.

❥ pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

❥ word count ━━━━━━━ 3.3k

❥ warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content, p in v, unprotected sex, accidental creampie,

Based on this request.

The first thing Lando noticed when he stepped into her apartment was her. Her scent, that soft, intoxicating mix of vanilla and something uniquely her, lingered in the air. It made him forget the exhaustion of the race, the jet lag, the chaos of Monaco. All that mattered was the woman standing a few feet away, her arms crossed, a playful smirk on her lips.

“You’re late,” she said, her voice dripping with mock annoyance. She leaned against the kitchen counter, her eyes narrowing as she looked him up and down. She was wearing that outfit—the one with the oversized hoodie that she swore wasn’t his but definitely was—and a pair of tiny black shorts that made his mouth go dry.

Lando dropped his bag by the door and strode toward her, his heart racing in a way that had nothing to do with the adrenaline of the race. “Late? I came straight from the airport,” he countered, his voice low, teasing. He stopped just inches from her, his gaze locking with hers. “Unless you’re telling me you missed me that much.”

She rolled her eyes, but the flush creeping up her neck betrayed her. God, he loved that about her. The way she tried to play it cool, like she wasn’t just as desperate for him as he was for her. He reached out, his fingers brushing against her waist, and she sucked in a sharp breath.

“You’re such a tease,” she muttered, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, her hands found their way to his chest, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

“And you’re a liar,” he shot back, his lips curving into a grin. He leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. “Admit it, you’ve been thinking about me all week.”

She shivered, her nails digging into his chest just enough to make him groan. “Maybe,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “But that doesn’t mean you’re getting off easy.”

Lando chuckled, the sound dark and rumbling in his chest. “Oh, darling,” he murmured, his hands sliding down to grip her hips. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

–

Their clothes were scattered across the floor within minutes, a trail leading from the kitchen to the bedroom. She was on her knees on the bed, her hands gripping the sheets as Lando stood behind her, his hands exploring every curve of her body. His touch was possessive, claiming, like he couldn’t get enough of her. And maybe he couldn’t.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he breathed, his fingers tracing the curve of her spine. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the small of her back, and she whimpered, her hips pushing back into him.

“Lando,” she moaned, her voice shaky, desperate. She reached back, her fingers tangling in his hair as he nipped at her skin, leaving a trail of kisses and bites that made her toes curl.

He chuckled, the sound sending shivers down her spine. “Patience, love,” he murmured, his hands sliding down to grip her hips. “I’ve got you.”

His grip tightened, and she gasped as he pulled her back, her ass pressing against him. He smirked, his fingers digging into her skin as he gave her a sharp slap. The sound echoed in the room, and she cried out, her body trembling.

“Fuck,” she panted, her fingers tightening in the sheets. “Do that again.”

Lando obliged, his hand coming down on her ass with a force that made her moan. He leaned over her, his chest pressing against her back as he kissed her shoulder. “You like that, don’t you?” he whispered, his voice rough with desire.

She nodded, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. “Yes,” she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. “I’ve missed you.”

He groaned, his hands sliding around to her front, his fingers teasing her clit. “Show me,” he demanded, his voice low and commanding.

She arched her back, her body moving with a rhythm that was both desperate and deliberate. Her hips rolled against his hand, each motion sending waves of pleasure coursing through her. Lando’s breath hitched as he watched her, his fingers working her clit with a precision that made her toes curl into the sheets.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his voice rough, strained. His other hand gripped her hip, holding her steady as she pressed back into him, her ass grinding against his cock. He could feel the heat radiating from her, the way her body trembled with every touch, every stroke.

Her moans grew louder, more urgent, filling the room with a symphony of need. “Lando,” she gasped, her voice breaking on his name. Her hands fisted the sheets, knuckles white as she clung to them for dear life. “Please... don’t stop.”

He didn’t. His fingers moved faster, harder, driving her closer and closer to the edge. She could feel it building, that familiar tension coiling in her belly, tightening until she thought she might burst. And then she did. Her body convulsed, a cry tearing from her throat as she came undone beneath his touch. Waves of pleasure crashed over her, leaving her trembling, breathless, utterly spent.

But Lando wasn’t done. He couldn’t stop. Not when she looked like that—her hair tangled, her skin flushed, her lips parted as she panted for air. He leaned over her, his chest pressing against her back as he kissed her shoulder, her neck, anywhere he could reach.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he murmured, his voice low, reverent. His hands slid down her sides, tracing the curve of her waist before gripping her hips again. “I can’t get enough of you.”

She whimpered, her body still sensitive, still throbbing with the aftershocks of her orgasm. But she didn’t pull away. Instead, she pressed back into him, her ass grinding against his cock once more. “Then don’t stop,” she whispered, her voice shaky but determined. “Take me, Lando. I’m yours.”

Lando’s fingers dug into the soft flesh of her hips as he positioned himself behind her. She was still on her hands and knees, her back arched perfectly, her ass presented to him like a gift. The sight alone made his cock throb, hard and aching, desperate for her. He ran his hand down the curve of her spine, feeling the way she shivered under his touch, before sliding it lower, over the swell of her ass. He gave her a sharp slap, the sound echoing in the room, and she gasped, her body jolting forward.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. His fingers traced the wetness between her thighs, teasing her entrance, already slick and ready for him. “So fucking perfect.”

She whimpered, her head dropping between her shoulders as she pressed back against his hand. “Lando, please,” she begged, her voice trembling. “I need you.”

He didn’t make her wait. Gripping the base of his cock, he guided himself to her entrance, the tip pressing against her warmth. He paused for a moment, savoring the anticipation, the way her body trembled beneath him. Then, with a slow, deliberate thrust, he pushed inside her, inch by inch, until he was buried to the hilt.

Her breath hitched, a low moan escaping her lips as she felt him fill her completely. “God, Lando,” she gasped, her fingers clawing at the sheets. “You feel so big.”

He groaned, his hands tightening on her hips as he pulled out slightly, only to thrust back in, deeper this time. The sensation was overwhelming—her tightness, her heat, the way her body clenched around him like she was made for him. He couldn’t get enough of the view: her on her hands and knees, her back arched, her ass right there, begging for him. It was primal, possessive, and it drove him wild.

“Fuck, y/n,” he growled, his pace quickening. His thrusts became more urgent, more demanding, each one hitting that spot inside her that made her cry out. “You take me so well.”

She whimpered, her body rocking back to meet his every thrust, each one driving him deeper, harder, until she felt like he was everywhere—inside her, around her, consuming her. His cock stretched her in the most delicious way, filling her so completely that it almost hurt, but in the best kind of way. The angle was perfect, his length hitting that spot deep inside her that made her vision blur and her toes curl into the sheets. She could feel every ridge, every pulse of him as he moved, thick and unrelenting, pushing her closer and closer to the edge.

“Lando,” she gasped, her voice breaking, trembling with the intensity of it all. Her hands clawed at the sheets, desperate for something to hold onto as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in her belly. “You feel... so big. So good.”

Her words were barely coherent, but they sent a jolt through him, his grip on her hips tightening as he drove into her with even more force. She cried out, her body arching, her ass pressing back against him as if she couldn’t get enough. And she couldn’t. Every thrust was a revelation, his cock sliding in and out of her with a slick, wet sound that only heightened the heat between them. She could feel him everywhere—the stretch of her walls around him, the way her body clenched and fluttered, trying to pull him deeper, keep him there forever.

“I’m close,” she panted, her voice shaky, desperate. Her thighs trembled, her entire body taut like a bowstring, ready to snap. “Please, Lando, don’t stop.”

He didn’t. His pace became relentless, his thrusts hard and deep, each one hitting that sweet spot inside her that made her see stars. She could feel the tension building, coiling tighter and tighter until it finally snapped. 

He could feel it too—the way her walls tightened around him, the way her body trembled with the force of her impending release. He leaned over her, his chest pressing against her back as he kissed her shoulder, her neck, anywhere he could reach. “Come for me, love,” he whispered, his voice rough with need. “Let go.”

And she did. Her body convulsed, a cry tearing from her throat as she came undone beneath him. Waves of pleasure crashed over her, leaving her trembling, breathless, utterly spent. But Lando wasn’t done. He couldn’t stop. Not when she looked like that—her hair tangled, her skin flushed, her lips parted as she panted for air. He kept thrusting, driving her through her orgasm, chasing his own release.

“Fuck, y/n,” he groaned, his pace becoming erratic. “I can’t hold back.”

She whimpered, her body still sensitive, still throbbing with the aftershocks of her orgasm. But she didn’t pull away. Instead, she pressed back into him, her ass grinding against his cock once more. “Then don’t,” she whispered, her voice shaky but determined. “Take me, Lando. I’m yours.”

And with a final, deep thrust, he did. His release washed over him, hot and intense, as he spilled inside her, his body shuddering with the force of it. He collapsed over her, his chest heaving, his heart racing as they both came down from the high. For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of their breathing, the feel of their bodies pressed together, and the undeniable truth that they were exactly where they were meant to be.

Lando’s body tightened, every muscle coiled like a spring as he thrust into her one final time, deeper than before, burying himself to the hilt. She gasped, her body arching, her walls clamping down around him in a desperate, pulsing rhythm. It was too much—the heat, the tension, the way she squeezed him—and he couldn’t hold back any longer. With a guttural groan, his release hit him like a tidal wave, hot and relentless, spilling deep inside her. His hips jerked uncontrollably, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself into her, filling her with every drop.

She felt it—the way he twitched inside her, the warmth flooding her, the sheer force of his orgasm rippling through him. It sent her over the edge again, her own body shuddering as she came with him, waves of pleasure crashing over her, leaving her breathless and trembling. Lando collapsed forward, his chest pressed against her back, his breath coming in ragged gasps against her skin. His arms wrapped around her, holding her close as their bodies trembled together, both of them drowning in the aftershocks.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of their breathing—fast, unsteady, synchronized—and the heat of their skin pressed together, slick with sweat. Lando buried his face in the curve of her neck, his lips brushing against her shoulder in a soft, reverent kiss. His fingers traced her waist, possessive and gentle all at once, like he couldn’t bear to let her go.

She could feel his heartbeat, rapid and wild, against her back, matching the frantic pace of her own. His weight felt grounding, comforting, like he was anchoring her to the moment, to him. He gave a shaky exhale, his breath hot against her skin, and she could feel the tension slowly leaving his body as though his limbs had given out. Even in his exhaustion, his hands explored her body lightly, caressing her soft skin as if to remind them both they were still present, and still on their high. Instinctively, she turned her head to kiss his cheek, using the hands that once clutched the bedsheets, to stroke his hand on her waist.

She knew right then—they were exactly where they were meant to be.

Lando pulled out slowly, his breath still ragged, his body trembling with the remnants of his orgasm. She gasped softly, the sensation of him slipping out of her strangely intimate, the space he left behind warm and empty. But then she felt it—the unmistakable trickle of his release leaking out of her. Her thighs twitched, a shiver running through her as she savored the sensation, strange but intoxicating. She could feel the warmth of it, slow and deliberate, sliding down her sensitive skin. It sent a jolt of electricity through her, her body still on that high, still craving more of him.

But when Lando looked down, his body suddenly stiffened. His breath caught in his throat. “Shit,” he muttered, his eyes wide with panic. “I—I didn’t mean to—fuck, I’m sorry.”

She turned to look at him, brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice soft.

He ran a hand through his damp curls, his heart racing. “I—I came inside you,” he admitted, his voice shaking. “I’m so sorry, it’s never—I never—”

A small smile tugged at her lips as she reached up, cupping his cheek. “Lando,” she said, her tone calm, reassuring. “It’s okay. I’m on birth control.”

He blinked, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

She nodded. “Positive.” Her fingers brushed lightly against his skin. “But it’s cute that you’re freaking out.”

He groaned, dropping his head onto her shoulder. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered, voice muffled against her skin.

She laughed, the sound soft and full of warmth. “You’re stuck with me, Norris,” she teased, fingers tangling in his hair.

“Good,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her collarbone. “Because I’m not letting you go.”

His words sent warmth flooding through her, settling deep in her chest. She felt it again—that slow, intimate reminder of how close they’d been, how much he’d given her. The weight of it lingered between them, unspoken but deeply felt.

“Don’t move,” he murmured suddenly, his voice still rough but gentle. He shifted off the bed, his movements slightly unsteady, and disappeared into the bathroom. She heard the sound of water running, a soft clatter, and then he was back, a warm, damp cloth in his hand.

She turned her head, watching him as he knelt beside her, his eyes heavy with something she couldn’t quite name—devotion, maybe, or tenderness. Gently, he pressed the cloth between her thighs, his touch careful, almost tender. She inhaled sharply, the warmth of the cloth contrasting with the cool air of the room, the sensation both soothing and intimate. His fingers lingered for a moment, tracing the curve of her thigh, and she let out a soft sigh, her body still humming with pleasure.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, his voice low, tinged with concern.

She shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. “No,” she whispered. “It feels... good.” Her cheeks flushed as she admitted it, but she couldn’t help it—the thought of him inside her, filling her so completely, made her heart race all over again.

He studied her, his brow furrowing slightly, before smirking, that familiar teasing glint returning to his eyes. “Good?” he repeated, his voice dipping into that playful tone she both loved and hated. “Because you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

She rolled her eyes, but the smile on her lips betrayed her. “Not like I want to,” she murmured, her fingers brushing against his hand where it still rested on her thigh.

He leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to her hip, his breath warm against her skin. “Good,” he whispered, his lips brushing against her skin. “Because you’re mine, and I’m not going anywhere.”

He finished cleaning her up, his touches tender, his eyes never leaving hers. When he was done, he dropped the cloth onto the floor and slid back into bed, pulling her into his arms. She nestled against him, her head resting on his chest, his heartbeat steady under her ear. For the first time, she wasn’t afraid of what this meant, of where they were going. He’d given her everything—his body, his heart, and now, this.

It was theirs, and no one could take it away.

She tilted her head up, her lips brushing against his in a featherlight kiss. “I missed you,” she whispered, her voice soft, almost shy.

He smiled, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on her skin, the warmth of his touch making her shiver. “I missed you too,” he admitted, his voice low, raw. “More than you can imagine.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she hesitated for a moment before speaking again. “It felt... good,” she began, her voice barely above a whisper. She looked up at him through her lashes, her heart pounding in her chest. “When you came inside me. It was... really hot.”

Lando’s breath hitched, his eyes darkening as he stared at her. “Yeah?” he murmured, his voice teasing, but there was a hint of something deeper in his tone. His hand slid down to her thigh, his fingers brushing against her sensitive skin. “Tell me more.”

She bit her lip, her body already humming with the memory. “Feeling it... inside me,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “And then, when it started to drip out...” She shuddered, her thighs pressing together instinctively. “It was so fucking hot.”

He groaned, his fingers tightening on her thigh. “Fuck, y/n,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire. His other hand slid up to her waist, pulling her closer until she was pressed against him, his lips brushing against her ear. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

She whimpered, her hands gripping his shoulders as she felt the heat of his body against hers. “Do it again,” she whispered, her voice shaky but bold. “Come inside me again. I want to feel it. I want to feel you.”

Lando growled, the sound sending a thrill through her. His lips crashed against hers in a fierce kiss, his hands moving to her hips, holding her steady. “You’re killing me, love,” he muttered against her lips, his breath hot, ragged. “But fuck, if I don’t want to do exactly that.”

She moaned, her body arching into his, her fingers tangling in his hair. “Then don’t hold back,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need. “I’m yours, Lando. All yours.”

He pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes blazing with intensity. “And I’m yours,” he said, his voice low, commanding. “Every fucking part of me.”

Then he kissed her again, deep and demanding, like he couldn’t get enough of her. And she knew then—he never would.

[abbotjack]

Booked for One

pairing : Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x fem!resident!reader

summary : A black-tie charity gala in Chicago. One bed. Months of tension. And a storm that forces both of you to stop pretending.

warnings/content : 18+ content, explicit sexual material (fingering, penetrative sex, condom use), strong language, emotionally repressed characters, unresolved sexual tension (resolved), jealousy, mutual pining, power dynamics (attending x resident), one bed trope, clothing sharing (his hoodie/boxers)

word count : 4,850

18+ ONLY MDNI, not beta read. Please read responsibly.

a/n : This is me projecting every inch of tension into one hotel room and letting it burn. Robby is so done pretending he doesn’t want her. She’s so done pretending it doesn’t wreck her. No further questions.

The Chicago skyline glittered beyond the ballroom windows like something out of a dream, but the room itself was thick with too much perfume and performative laughter to feel romantic. Somewhere between the crystal chandeliers and the overpriced floral centerpieces, you remembered: this was a charity gala, not a fairy tale. Not that you’d expected it to be one.

Your heels clicked confidently across the marble as you stepped into the crowd, the sound sharp and unapologetic. The red dress did exactly what it was meant to do—stop conversations mid-sentence. Backless, sculpted, slit high enough to make someone drop their champagne. Almost inappropriate. Almost. But cut with just enough class to keep mouths shut and eyes glued. You didn’t stumble into this look—you chose it. Every inch of it said exactly what you needed it to.

And beside you—silent, composed, unreadable—walked Dr. Michael Robinavitch.

Not behind. Not trailing. Beside. Step for step, shoulder to shoulder. Close enough that your perfume reached him, close enough that his silence pressed against your skin like static. The air between you practically hummed. No words were exchanged, but you felt his presence—intentional, sharp, heavy. Not accidental. Never accidental. He wore that tux like a threat and walked like he already regretted coming.

You didn’t blame him. He’d hated the idea of this from the moment the assignment hit both your inboxes. He spent most of the flight to Chicago muttering about schmoozing donors and dressing up for people who’d never seen what a ruptured spleen looked like in real life. Said if AGH wanted charm, they should’ve sent a PR team—not a trauma attending and a second-year resident.

But for all his complaining, he showed up anyway.

Beard neatly trimmed, jaw tight, suit tailored to the exact width of his frustration. He hadn’t bothered with a tie—left the top button undone and rolled his sleeves up in the car, like he couldn’t stand the performance of it all but still dared anyone to question whether he belonged.

Classic Robby.

All precision. All control. Except, maybe, for the way his eyes kept drifting back to you like he hadn’t meant to.

You’d felt it before you even got here.

The moment you stepped out of your hotel room earlier that evening, still adjusting the strap of your dress, you felt the air shift. His gaze had dragged down your spine like heat—slow, reluctant, and absolutely devastating. He hadn’t said a word. No compliment. Not even a grunt. Just stood there in the hallway, watching you like a problem he didn’t know how to solve.

Then you got into the car.

And now, here you were. Walking beside him like none of that tension had happened—like it wasn’t still buzzing under your skin.

He said nothing.

So, you flirted.

You’d barely handed off your coat when a man caught up to you. Mid-thirties, polished, expensive suit, and the kind of grin that usually came with a boarding group upgrade and a trust fund. His eyes dragged over you—slow, practiced—and landed on your badge.

“Emergency?” he asked, matching your stride.

You didn’t break pace. “That a problem?”

“No,” he said, trailing beside you now. “Just wasn’t expecting it. Not in that dress.”

“Guess I don’t dress for your expectations.”

He laughed under his breath, clearly intrigued. “Wasn’t trying to offend. You just... don’t look like you’ve pulled a chest tube.”

You glanced at him, expression unreadable. “You don’t look like someone who’s coded a patient without crying, but I’m not holding it against you.”

He blinked, thrown for half a second—then smiled, slower this time, like the game had just gotten interesting.

“Alright,” he said. “I deserved that.”

You gave a noncommittal shrug. “Probably.”

He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “Should I try again?”

You didn’t answer right away. You just looked at him—cool, steady, unreadable. Not interested, but not walking away either.

“If you want,” you said finally.

And then you turned, letting him follow you into the crowd. He kept close, too close, like he wasn’t used to being dismissed.

“I’m Lucas, by the way,” he said, offering it like a favor.

“Of course you are.”

He laughed under his breath, clearly not sure if it was a compliment. Robby was across the ballroom, watching it all.

You watched him back. The way his jaw clenched every time you touched Lucas’s arm, the way he barely blinked when Lucas leaned too close.

"You here alone?" Lucas asked.

"That depends," you said, voice light.

"On what?"

You looked past him. Past the buffet table. Past the sea of donors and old-money medicine. Straight into Robby’s eyes. And you smiled.

“On whether he comes over here or not.”

Lucas turned, confused. “Who?”

You just tipped your glass toward Robby.

Robby didn’t move. He just stared back—still, unreadable, drink untouched in his hand like he wanted to throw it at something.

You turned back to Lucas. “Nevermind.”

You ended up pressed against the gold-veined marble counter in the bathroom ten minutes later, Lucas’s mouth hot and insistent on yours, his hands already on your hips like he’d earned the right. The chill of the marble cut against the warmth pooling low in your body, but you didn’t stop him.

Outside, rain had started to streak across the windows—steady now, soft at first and building. You barely registered it. All you felt was Lucas’s palm dragging slowly up your thigh, slipping beneath the slit of your dress, fingers skimming skin like he expected you to beg for it.

He kissed like a man used to being told yes. Confident. Greedy. A little too practiced. His teeth grazed your lip, tongue sweeping into your mouth with a low hum as he pushed closer, like he couldn’t get enough of the way you tasted.

You let his hand slide higher. Let him mouth at your neck, at the soft line beneath your jaw. Let him tug the strap of your dress down far enough for the fabric to slide off your shoulder.

Your lipstick smeared between you. Your breath came faster than it should’ve. And all you could think about—even now—was how Robby hadn’t said a single goddamn thing about the dress.

Lucas tasted like champagne and ego. His hands were good. His mouth was eager. His knee pushed between yours and your back hit the mirror with a dull, aching thud.

“You’re unreal,” he muttered against your collarbone, breath hot, hand skimming the edge of your breast now. “Jesus.”

You tilted your head back and closed your eyes.

Pretending it was enough.

Pretending it didn’t burn.

Then, gently—too gently—you pressed your palm against his chest.

“I should go.”

Lucas blinked. “Seriously?”

You didn’t answer at first. You just looked at him, steady, breath catching, lips swollen from someone you didn’t want.

Then: “Yeah. Seriously.”

Not cold. Just done.

You slipped out before he could say anything else, smoothing your dress and swiping your thumb across your mouth.

Outside, rain ticked louder against the glass.

And just a few feet down the corridor, exactly where you didn’t want him to be—was Robby. Like he'd positioned himself there on purpose. Like he knew exactly where you’d be. His eyes tracked you the second you stepped back into the ballroom—sharp, steady, and unmistakably furious.

“Was that worth it?” Robby’s voice cut through the hum of the ballroom, low and sharp like a scalpel slipping beneath skin.

You froze mid-step, spine straightening. “What?”

He pushed off the column, slow and measured, like he’d been holding himself still for too long. “Lucas. From Hopkins, right? He’s been at a few of these things.” Robby’s voice was low, sharper than it had any right to be. “In the bathroom. That's how you planned to go about your night?”

You crossed your arms. “Careful. You’re starting to sound jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” he said, stepping in closer. “I’m pissed.”

You lifted your chin. “Why? Because he touched me, or because I let him?”

His jaw flexed. “You really want me to answer that?”

“You’ve been watching me all night, Robby. If you had something to say, you could’ve said it before I walked away.”

“I didn’t think you’d let someone else touch you first.”

You laughed once, dry and humorless. “That’s on you.”

“Don’t twist this.”

You held his stare. “Don’t try to control something you keep pretending you don’t want.”

He stepped closer, voice rough. “You think I don’t want you?”

“I think you want me when it’s convenient. I think you want me more when someone else does.”

His eyes darkened. “You don’t get it.”

“Then explain it.”

He shook his head. “You walked out of that bathroom looking wrecked—and all I could think was, I should’ve been the one to ruin your lipstick.”

Your breath caught.

“I mean it,” he said, voice lower now, almost ragged. “I stood here like a fucking statue while he got to touch you. Got to taste you.”

“Then do something about it,” you snapped, the air between you flaring hot.

“I can’t,” he said, jaw tight. “Not here. Not when I’m still trying to be the version of me that’s good for you.”

Thunder rumbled outside, closer now. A gust of wind rattled the balcony doors, and someone across the room shut one with a sharp bang that turned a few heads. Staff began to move like shadows between tables, and the string quartet shifted into something slow.

“Why not?” you whispered.

“Because the second I touch you,” he said, “I won’t stop.”

A waiter brushed past with a tray, and the spell broke—the quiet clatter of silver on porcelain snapping the air between you.

You stepped back like it burned. “We should go.”

Neither of you said another word.

Minutes later, you sat stiff in the back seat of the Uber, arms crossed tight, trying not to look like your heart was still somewhere back in the ballroom. Robby stared straight ahead, one hand flexing on his knee, the other resting uselessly between you. The driver didn’t ask questions. Neither of you offered answers.

By the time you stepped back into the hotel, the lobby was chaos—umbrellas dripping onto the tile, soaked coats draped over chairs, luggage leaving wet trails across the marble.

You were halfway to the elevators when the concierge spotted you.

“Miss?” she called out gently. “Room 124?”

You turned, already bracing.

“There’s been a situation,” she said. “A pipe burst on the first floor. Maintenance was able to shut it off, but your room was affected.”

Your chest tightened. “Affected how?”

“Flooded,” she admitted. “We pulled what we could from your room and sent everything to the laundry department for evaluation.”

You blinked. “Evaluation?”

She hesitated. “Some items were soaked. Our team is assessing what’s salvageable.”

You didn’t need her to spell it out. You could picture it already.

Your suitcase—soaked through from the bottom up, clothes clinging to the lining like wet leaves. The silk sleep set you packed on a whim, twisted and ruined. Your toiletry bag overturned, mascara tubes and tampons and a busted travel-size mouthwash bobbing in shallow water. Your heels wrapped in white hotel towels like they’d been injured. Your charger? Fried. The paperback you'd half-finished on the plane? Warped and curling at the edges like a dried flower.

You didn’t want it assessed. You wanted it not to have happened.

“We’re also fully booked due to the weather,” she added, almost apologetic now. “We’ve had cancellations, stranded travelers, local walk-ins. There’s a waitlist, but we can’t guarantee anything for tonight.”

Of course not.

You stared past her, toward the barricaded hallway at the far end of the lobby. Caution tape. Industrial fans. A sign printed in sharpie: FLOOR CLOSED FOR CLEANUP—1st. You could hear the low, constant roar of air pushing moisture out of drywall.

“Fine,” you muttered, reaching for your phone. “I’ll find another hotel.”

You had barely tapped the screen when Robby spoke.

“She’s with me.”

You turned your head slowly. “You don’t get to decide that.”

“You don’t have a room,” he said, measured. “You don’t have clothes. You’re not getting another hotel this late.”

“I didn’t ask for help.”

“I’m not offering help.” He looked at you then—just once, jaw locked, eyes hard. “I’m not letting you walk around Chicago at midnight with a dead phone especially during a thunderstorm.”

That shut you up. Not because he was angry.

Because he was worried. And trying not to show it.

The concierge handed over a second keycard.

Robby took it before you could say anything.

Just like that.

Final. No discussion.

He didn’t even look at you as he turned toward the elevators.

You followed him.

The click of your heels echoed against the tile, sharp and precise. Rain streaked the windows behind the lobby seating area, lightning flashing faintly across the marble floor. Neither of you spoke.

“I don’t have anything to sleep in,” you said finally, your voice clipped.

“I’ve got boxers and a hoodie,” he answered without looking back.

You stopped. Right there in the middle of the lobby.

“Oh, perfect. I’ll just wear your hoodie like this is totally normal and not weird at all,” you said, tone sharp.

He turned—slow, deliberate. Shoulders tense, jaw tight.

“What’s your move, then? Wander around downtown at midnight in heels that are cutting off your circulation, soaked through, no phone, no plan?”

You didn’t answer fast enough.

His jaw ticked. “It’s a hoodie and boxers, not a wedding dress. Don’t flatter yourself.”

You blinked, slow. “Oh, I’m not. I just prefer not to sleep in something that smells like you’re still wearing it.”

He stepped in—closer than necessary. “You didn’t seem so bothered by that smell earlier. In the elevator. Or at the event.”

Your pulse jumped. You hated that it did.

You crossed your arms. “I’d rather not spend the night with someone who can’t stand to look at me.”

His eyes didn’t move from yours. “You’re not upset about me glaring.”

“Oh no?”

“No,” he said. “You’re upset because the wrong man undressed you with his eyes—and made a move before the one you wanted ever did.”

Your stomach dropped.

You opened your mouth. Nothing came out.

He didn’t move. He didn’t smirk. He just let the words sit there between you, heavy and sharp and so goddamn true you wanted to slap him for it.

“Wow,” you breathed. “You’re a dick.”

“And you’re still standing here,” he said.

The elevator dinged.

You turned and walked in first.

He followed.

The doors slid shut behind you with a hush that felt like it should’ve echoed.

You stood a little too close to the mirrored wall. He stayed behind you, angled slightly off to the side. You watched him through the reflection. He wasn’t watching you, but he wasn’t relaxed either. His jaw was locked. His hands were in his pockets, knuckles tight enough to show through the fabric.

His chest rose slow. Measured. Controlled.

The air between you wasn’t just tense—it was alive. Like it had heard every word back in the lobby and didn’t believe either of you were done.

The elevator climbed.

At floor ten, your arms were crossed so tightly your shoulders ached.

At floor eleven, your pulse jumped just from the space between your hands and his body.

At floor twelve, he looked at you in the reflection—just a flick of his gaze—and your breath caught.

“We’re both adults,” he said.

Your voice barely made it out. “Barely.”

The elevator doors opened, and you stepped out before he could say anything.

His footsteps followed—steady, patient. The hall was quiet except for the distant hum of the rain hitting the windows at the end. The carpet muffled everything but your heartbeat.

He unlocked the door with one swipe of the keycard, then held it open. You didn’t look at him as you walked in.

You flicked the lights on.

And there it was.

One bed. Big. White. Obvious.

Robby walked in behind you, shutting the door with a soft click. He shrugged off his jacket and hung it neatly, like this was any other night.

You stared at the bed, then at him. Your voice was dry.

“Of course it’s one.”

He didn’t flinch. “Wasn’t expecting company when I booked it.”

You crossed your arms. “But when you offered to share—”

“I knew,” he cut in, voice smooth, unreadable. “Yes.”

“And you didn’t think to mention that part?”

He turned to face you fully, one brow lifting just slightly. “I had a single room. Why would it have two beds?”

You blinked at him, but he kept going, tone low and infuriatingly rational.

“Sorry, I forgot to ask the hotel for the ‘in case my coworker gets drenched and stranded’ package.”

You scoffed. “A heads-up would’ve been nice.”

He tilted his head, eyes skimming over you. “Right. And if I’d said, ‘It’s one bed,’ you’d have said what? ‘No thanks, I’ll sleep in a puddle’?”

You didn't answer.

He smirked. “Exactly.”

The silence stretched. Long enough to make the storm outside feel closer. You peeled your clutch from under your arm and set it on the dresser like it gave you something to do.

He crossed to his bag. Pulled out a hoodie and a pair of boxers, both folded with the kind of care you recognized in him—practical, precise. He set them down at the end of the bed.

“They’re clean,” he said. “Bathroom’s yours.”

You didn’t move yet. Just looked at the bed again. Then at him.

He hadn’t looked away once.

You took the clothes in one hand.

“So,” you said slowly. “We’re just gonna sleep next to each other like none of this ever happened?”

His voice didn’t waver. “Is that a problem?”

You raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know. Can you keep your hands to yourself?”

“Yeah.”

“Even if I wear this?” You lifted the hoodie an inch.

His gaze dropped for a single second. Just one. Then back up.

“Especially if you wear that.”

You stared at him.

He didn’t blink.

The moment hovered—thick and heavy with something neither of you wanted to name.

Then you turned toward the bathroom without responding.

The door clicked shut behind you, and you swore you could still hear the sound of him exhaling—low and rough, like he was trying not to want something he didn’t have permission to reach for.

The bathroom was quiet except for the faint hum of the fan and the thunder outside.

You reached behind you, fingers brushing the zipper. It slid down with a soft sigh, the dress loosening around your frame. The straps slipped off your shoulders, and the fabric followed, slow and heavy, like it didn’t want to let go.

It fell in a hush against the tile—crimson and careless at your feet.

You stepped out of it without hesitation.

His hoodie came next. It was oversized and warm. The sleeves hung past your hands, the hem grazing your thighs. You pulled on the boxers last. Loose, low, unfamiliar. You kept one hand on the waistband, like that might anchor you.

In the mirror, you didn’t look like the girl who’d worn that dress. You looked like someone else entirely—bare legs, messy mascara, lips still parted from things unsaid.

Like someone who’d made a choice.

Even if you hadn’t figured out what it meant yet.

When you opened the door, the lights in the room had dimmed. Only one lamp was still on, casting a warm glow over the bed and wall. The storm outside had deepened to a constant rhythm—rain tapping like fingers against glass, thunder slow and low in the distance.

Robby had moved. He was no longer standing.

Now he was sitting in the chair by the window, already in his pajamas. But the second you stepped out, he looked.

And stayed looking.

His gaze dragged from your legs to the oversized hoodie, to the hand resting at your hip like you didn’t quite trust the boxers not to fall. Then to your face.

He didn’t say a word.

He didn’t have to.

The air in the room changed. Tightened. Coiled.

You walked past him in silence, slid into the bed slowly—like you weren’t listening for the hitch in his breath, even though you were. The sheets were cold. Your skin prickled beneath the fabric, awareness spreading like a pulse.

You heard him stand.

Not right away. Not fast.

Just... eventually.

The creak of the chair. The soft thud of his steps against the carpet. The flicker of the switch. Then the dip of the mattress behind you.

He pulled the blanket up slowly. Settled on his back. Close, but not touching.

You stared at the ceiling. Felt the heat of him beside you—close, steady, impossible to ignore. Six inches of space. Maybe less.

And then you moved.

Not much. Just enough for the blanket to pull tighter across your hips, for the edge of your thigh to graze his under the sheets. It was barely contact.

But it felt like heat.

You knew he felt it too—because he stilled.

His breath caught, just slightly, like his lungs had registered something his mouth hadn’t been cleared to speak on. You could feel the way he was holding himself back. The way every inch of him had been still and disciplined until now, and now… now he wasn’t.

"Robby," you whispered.

He turned his head toward you.

Just a glance. But in it—everything. The tension. The ache. The silent plea for permission. Or for you to stop him before he crossed a line he couldn’t walk back from.

You didn’t.

Instead, you reached out—slow, careful—and let your hand find his forearm beneath the blanket. Warm skin. Solid muscle. He tensed at your touch, but didn’t move.

So you let your hand drift down, sliding along the inside of his wrist until your fingers brushed his.

He hesitated.

Then laced them through yours like he couldn’t help it.

That was all it took.

His fingers slipped free again, and his hand moved—up your arm, slow and deliberate. Not over the fabric. Under it. He pushed the hoodie up just enough to touch your bare skin, his palm dragging heat along the dip of your waist, the soft slope of your stomach. He moved closer, his leg brushing yours beneath the blanket, chest barely grazing your shoulder.

Your breath caught.

He heard it.

He hovered above you now, weight on one elbow, eyes locked on yours in the dark.

You reached up and found the side of his neck. Warm, tense, familiar.

That was enough.

He kissed you—deep, slow, but hungry. Not rushed. Just built-up control finally cracking. His hand slid higher beneath the hoodie, fingers spreading across your bare ribs, then rising to cup your breast—skin to skin. His thumb brushed over your nipple, and you gasped, the sound catching between your mouths.

He pulled back a breath’s distance, just enough to look down at you.

“You knew,” he said roughly.

Your lashes fluttered. “Knew what?”

His eyes dragged over your face. “That I wouldn’t stop if I touched you.”

You didn’t answer. You just arched into him, hips tilting, hand reaching for the hem of his shirt. Your fingers found the edge and pushed up, knuckles brushing his stomach.

He moved to help, lifting his arms, letting you tug the shirt over his head and toss it aside. Then he leaned back, one hand tugging the blanket down from both your bodies, eyes never leaving yours.

His chest rose and fell—slow, deliberate, barely in control. And he was still watching you like he hadn’t even started.

His hand slipped beneath the waistband of the boxers.

You gasped—quiet, sharp—and he froze.

“Okay?” he asked, voice hoarse against your throat.

“Yes,” you said. “Don’t stop.”

He groaned—quiet, guttural—and kissed you again, his fingers sliding through you slowly, then sinking deep. One, then two.

The hoodie stayed on.

But everything underneath it was his now too.

“You have no idea,” he whispered, “how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

“I think I do,” you said, breathless.

He kissed you again, but this time deeper—tongue sliding against yours with the kind of hunger that tasted like restraint finally breaking. His mouth moved from your lips to your jaw, then your neck, slow and deliberate, as if he was testing how far you’d let him go.

You didn’t stop him.

You tipped your chin up and gave him more.

“You’re soaked,” he said, voice dark. “Jesus.”

“Yeah,” you breathed. “I’ve been like that all night.”

His hand moved in slow circles over your clit. You arched into him.

“Robby—”

“Fuck, you feel—” He cut himself off with another kiss. His forehead rested against yours, breaths coming fast now. “Don’t rush me.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re shaking.”

“You’re making me.”

He added another finger. Your hips jerked, and he caught them with his other hand, holding you still while he fucked you slow with his fingers—deep, steady, curling in all the right ways. You whimpered into his mouth.

“Look at me,” he said roughly.

You did.

His pupils were blown wide. His jaw tight. His fingers still moving, still coaxing, still building the ache that had started the second he offered you this bed.

“Tell me when.”

Your breath broke. “Almost—don’t stop.”

His thumb pressed against your clit, just enough pressure to push you over. You came with a gasp—hips trembling, body curling into his. He kissed you through it, slow and open-mouthed, like he was breathing you in.

When your body stopped trembling, you reached for his waistband and pulled it down. He was hard. Thick. Heavy in your hand.

You stroked him once, twice—slow, just to feel the way his body jerked under your touch. His eyes fluttered shut, jaw clenching hard as your thumb teased the underside of his cock.

“Condom?” you asked, voice low.

“Top drawer,” he said. “I checked earlier.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Hopeful?”

“Prepared.” he muttered.

You fished it out and handed it to him. He rolled it on with shaky hands, then settled between your legs again—his hips aligned with yours, one hand braced beside your head, the other curling under your thigh.

He paused. “Last chance.”

You locked your eyes on his. “Shut up and fuck me.”

He pushed in with one slow, smooth thrust—stretching you open inch by inch, until your back arched and your nails dug into his shoulders.

“Jesus,” he gritted out, forehead dropping to yours. “You feel like—”

“Move.”

He did.

Long, deep strokes that built slow—his body pressed against yours, breath hot against your cheek, the bed shifting beneath you. His hips rolled just right, his rhythm steady but desperate, each thrust dragging a sound out of your throat you couldn’t have silenced if you tried.

You wrapped your legs around him, ankles hooking behind his back, dragging him deeper. His hand slid under the hoodie, found your breast, thumb brushing your nipple until you cried out.

“That’s it,” he whispered. “Come again.”

He angled his hips and thrust again—harder now, rougher, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing through the room. You moaned into his mouth, fingers clawing at his back as your body built again, tighter, hotter.

Then you broke.

Your climax hit fast—sharp, shattering. You buried your face in his neck and held on as he fucked you through it, thrusts stuttering, voice breaking on a groan.

“Fuck—I’m—”

He followed you over the edge with one last deep thrust, his body shaking above you, hips grinding into yours as he spilled into the condom with a low, guttural noise that sounded like surrender.

When it was over, he collapsed half on top of you, chest heaving, skin slick with sweat.

Neither of you spoke.

You lay there tangled in each other, his hoodie bunched around your waist, your breathing slowly syncing with his. His hand rested on your thigh—still, warm, unhurried. Gentle in a way that felt unfamiliar for both of you.

The storm outside had quieted to a hush, rain tapping a soft rhythm against the windows like it was trying not to interrupt.

Minutes passed.

Then, quietly—like it had been sitting on his tongue all night—he said, “You looked really beautiful in that dress.”

Your heart stuttered.

You turned your head just enough to look at him. “You didn’t say anything.”

“I know,” he murmured. “Didn’t think I should.”

You didn’t answer right away. You just watched him, his features softer now in the dim light, his usual armor cracked wide open.

After a moment, you whispered, “I waited for you to.”

His fingers flexed lightly on your thigh, like the weight of your words hit somewhere deep.

“I know,” he said again, barely audible. “I’m sorry.”

You didn’t forgive him out loud. You didn’t need to.

You just shifted closer, let your leg hook over his, and finally let yourself exhale.

Not everything had to be said right now.

But for the first time in a long time, it felt like something had changed.

And neither of you reached to undo it.

[xhyjin]

next door neighbour dilftoji! who, ever since his late wife died shortly after the birth of their only son, megumi, had fallen into bad habits of gambling, drinking, and smoking. he was anything but a good or present father, leaving his son on the front steps of the zen’in clan headquarters. as much as he pretended he wasn’t grieving, he was, and everyone could easily tell. it wasn’t until one day, when he saw his late wife in a dream, telling him to get her son back—to be a father, the man she once knew—that he instantly sobers up and takes his son back from the hands of the clan.

next door neighbour dilftoji! who decided that if he wanted to start anew, he would have to change his surroundings. everything around him reminded him of his late wife, and as much as he loved her, she was holding him back. he spoke to his friend and former handler, shiu kong, about neighborhoods that would be good for a peculiar child like megumi and a place where he could start fresh with no reminders of the past. shiu recommended his own neighborhood—where you just so happened to live.

next door neighbour dilftoji! he moved into your quiet neighborhood with anything but quiet. his voice—loud and commanding—echoed as he yelled at the movers to handle fragile items with more care, all while keeping his son from darting in front of them. it was 7 in the morning when you first heard the noise: his voice, the trucks backing in, the hustle of the move. without even meeting him, you already found yourself annoyed.

you stumbled out of your house, robe loosely hanging around you and your hair a mess from a restless morning disturbed by the commotion. standing on your front steps, you watched the chaos unfold next door, trying to spot the source of that deep, gruff voice. as soon as your eyes landed on him, he locked eyes with you. you shook your head, muttering under your breath, and turned to walk back inside.

next door neighbour dilftoji! after a few hours of getting everything safely into his house, toji decided he would make a good first impression with his new neighbors. he was starting a new life, so even if baking cookies and bringing them to a neighbor was something he’d never normally do, it didn’t matter—because that toji was gone. this was the new toji, a man willing to take risks and leave behind regret.

he had already forgotten your brief moment of eye contact that morning, so when you opened your front door mid-phone call, you weren’t expecting to find him and his son standing there with a box of cookies. the smell was unmistakably fresh, lingering sweetly in the air.

“hi,” toji said, attempting a polite smile that contrasted sharply with his scarred lip and imposing, muscular frame. “my name’s toji fushiguro. this is my son, megumi. we just moved in next door and wanted to introduce ourselves.”

you stared at him in silence for a moment, stunned. you hadn’t expected your loud, irritating neighbor to look so… handsome. and muscular. you’d barely seen him earlier that morning.

“i’m going to have to call you back,” you said, lowering your phone. finally, you replied, “uh, it’s nice to meet you. i’m y/n.” your eyes fell to the box in his hands. “is that for me?”

“oh, yeah,” he replied, glancing briefly at megumi before handing the box to you. “me and megumi baked cookies for you.”

next door neighbour dilftoji! who ever since his brief interaction with you, toji found himself growing more curious about you as each day passed. he noticed you had a job, seeing you leave early in the morning while he was helping megumi into the car for school, and return later in the evening when he sat on the porch, watching megumi play with the neighbourhood kids, yuji and nobara.

next door neighbour dilftoji! who runs into you at the grocery store. megumi sat quietly in the cart while toji stood in the produce aisle, holding a bunch of bananas in one hand and strawberries in the other, debating which to buy. he didn’t even notice you until you cleared your throat.

“hi, toji,” you said shyly, giving him a small smile.

“hi, y/n,” he replied, surprised but glad to see you.

“tough choice?” you teased, glancing at the fruit in his hands.

“yeah,” he admitted with a small chuckle.

“i’d go with bananas. if they go bad, you can always make banana bread,” you suggested, making him laugh.

“good thinking,” he said, placing the bananas in the cart with megumi. from that moment, the rest of the grocery errand turned into something unexpected. the two of you wandered the aisles together, chatting and getting to know more about each other. toji found himself smiling more than he had in a long time, and by the time you both reached checkout, he realized he wouldn’t mind running into you like this more often.

next door neighbour dilftoji! who feels so bad when he has to ask you to babysit megumi on your one day off from work. something unexpected had come up, and he needed to return to the city but couldn’t leave megumi alone. knocking on your door, he stood there with megumi beside him.

when you opened the door, you didn’t expect to see him. “toji, hi,” you said, glancing between him and megumi. “what’s going on?”

“y/n, i’m so sorry. i know this is your day off, but something came up, and i need to get back to the city. i couldn’t find a babysitter last minute. could you please watch megumi? i promise he’s a good kid—no trouble at all,” he said, his tone almost pleading.

“yeah, sure,” you replied without hesitation, opening the door wider for them to step inside.

“i’ll be back early morning,” toji assured you. you nodded. “do you want my phone number?” his expression shifted, almost surprised. “yeah, that’s a good idea,” he said, handing you his phone.before leaving, toji crouched to megumi’s level. “don’t misbehave, alright? i’ll be back for you.” after giving megumi a quick pat on the head and thanking you again, he headed out the door.

next door neighbour dilftoji! who kept true to his word and returned early the next morning, flowers in hand. when you opened the door, still half-asleep, you greeted him with a tired, “hi, toji,” rubbing your eye with one hand.

“hey there, doll,” he said, the nickname slipping out before he quickly cleared his throat. “uh, can i come in?”

you didn’t seem to notice the slip-up and stepped aside to let him in. “megumi’s still sleeping,” you said, your gaze finally landing on the bouquet in his hand. “are those for me?”

he smiled, nodding as he handed you the flowers. “yeah, to thank you for being there for me.”

you took them, a soft blush creeping onto your cheeks. “they’re beautiful,” you murmured, leaning in to smell them.

“i didn’t know which were your favorite,” he admitted, “so i picked the ones i thought were the most beautiful… almost as beautiful as you.”

you froze for a moment, cheeks heating up further as you glanced down at yourself—disheveled hair, wrinkled pajamas, and all. “beautiful? me?”

“yes, beautiful,” he said with a chuckle.

“hope the kid wasn’t too much trouble,” he added, changing the subject.

“no, he’s a good kid—very sweet and polite,” you assured him, toji nodding in agreement.

he hesitated for a moment before speaking. “listen, y/n, i’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

“yeah?” you asked, placing the flowers down and filling a vase with water.

“i want to properly thank you for this. do you maybe want to go on a date?”

you looked up at him, wide-eyed. “a date?”

“yeah, i mean… if you want to,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically nervous.

your lips curved into a small smile. “i’d love to, toji.”

his face lit up. “great. are you free thursday?”

you nodded, and his grin grew wider. “a date on thursday with the most beautiful girl in the world,” he said, making your heart flutter.

[ughbrie]

converging threads | zayne

part one | part two

⤜ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ- “And I know what that loneliness feels like.” His voice was rough, raw. “Because when I had nightmares of his life… he dreamt of mine.”

A chill ran through you.

“He dreamt of Linkon. Of Akso. Of—” He swallowed hard, his grip on you unyielding. “You.”

The word hung between you, heavy and fragile at the same time.

“Now, he’s clawing his way into my thoughts, trying to make sense of a life that isn’t his to have.” Zayne’s hands curled into the fabric of your clothes, as if anchoring himself to something tangible. “And every time I look at you—” His voice cracked, his hands shaking as he clutched you. “He’s reaching for you. And I don’t know if it’s me who wants you or if it’s him bleeding through.”

(Or… after the events of Chansia City, Zayne had started to avoid you. More than a week later, in the dead of night, he's outside of your door, struggling with his sense of self—blurring between two worlds.)

⤜ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ- zayne x female reader

⤜ ɢᴇɴʀᴇ- angst, smut, & fluff

⤜ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ- 8k

⤜ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ- nsfw, mdni, softdom!zayne, references to zayne's third anecdote (still in the dark), spoilers to zayne's main story branch (thorns under the moon) and four star memory (fragmented dreams), mentions of childhood trauma and violence, too much angst, oral sex (blowjob), dirty talk, penetration (p in v), clothed sex, riding, breast play, emotional sex, unprotected sex, and creampie.

⤜ ɴᴏᴛᴇ- As a dedicated Zayne main, I've always had a soft spot for Dawnbreaker!Zayne, I just want to give him the biggest hug! While he never explicitly took control of main story Zayne’s body, their connection through dreams and nightmares allowed them to see into each other’s lives. And so, I wanted to explore what it would be like if that connection blurred even further after the events of Chansia City, and how Zayne would react to it. I hope you enjoy reading!

The knock at your door was soft, barely audible over the hum of Linkon City outside. You might have missed it had you not been awake, staring at the ceiling, unable to shake the restlessness clawing at your chest. Something felt wrong.

Hesitating for a moment, you peeled the blankets away and stepped towards the door. When you opened it, Zayne stood there, still as a statue. The warm glow from your apartment barely touched him; he lingered in the shadows of the hallway, his expression unreadable, like he was caught between two worlds—one where he stood before you and another far beyond, too distant to reach.

“Zayne?” Your voice was uncertain, your fingers tightening around the doorframe. He looked normal—his crisp shirt unwrinkled, his coat still shielding him from the cold. But his posture was rigid, like he was torn between memories, caught between the man you knew and something far more elusive, far darker. His breath came slow, controlled, but his fingers twitched at his sides, as if holding onto something unseen, something slipping away from his grasp.

It had been more than a week since you last saw him—more than a week since you clawed your way out of his dreamscape, fighting against the twisted phantoms of his nightmares and the suffocating pull of his uncontrollable evol. More than a week since he began avoiding you, and you couldn’t understand why.

You had searched for him—at Akso Hospital. 

You pushed open the door to Akso Hospital, the sterile scent of antiseptic filling your nose as you made your way down the familiar corridors. The sight of the bustling staff, the low murmur of nurses giving reports—it should have been comforting. But it wasn’t. Every step you took felt heavier, the weight of worry pressing down on your chest.

You were looking for Zayne. It had been a week since you’d seen him, and the silence between you was suffocating. You had tried calling, texting, but there was no sign of him.

You found Greyson near the nurses’ station, chatting with a few other doctors. He noticed you first, a flicker of surprise in his eyes before his usual, easy smile appeared.

“Hey,” he greeted, his tone too casual. Too… practiced. “What brings you by?”

“I was hoping to see Dr. Zayne. Is he around?” You tried to keep your voice even, but the question felt like a weight in your chest.

Greyson shifted on his feet, glancing toward the hallway where Dr. Zayne’s office was. “Oh, you know how it is,” he said with a shrug. “He’s been buried in surgeries lately. Really busy.”

You frowned. “Busy? He hasn’t been answering my calls. I’ve tried everything.”

At the sound of your words, Greyson’s gaze flickered uncomfortably, and before he could answer, Yvonne appeared beside him, her bright smile almost too wide.

“Hey, I didn’t expect to see you here today!” Yvonne chirped, her voice all sweetness, but there was a subtle edge to it. “Greyson’s right. Dr. Zayne’s probably just deep in work. You know how he gets, don’t you?”

You nodded, but the unease in your chest grew. “But… I haven’t been able to reach him. And he’s been avoiding me. I’m starting to get worried.”

There was a beat of silence before Yvonne glanced at Greyson, then back at you. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, the motion almost too practiced. “Oh, you know Dr. Zayne,” she said, her voice a little too smooth. “He’s a bit of a workaholic. And, well, he’s been dealing with some… personal things lately. I’m sure he’ll be in touch when he’s ready.”

Greyson cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’m sure he’s just focused on… other things right now.”

You felt a knot form in your stomach. Something wasn’t right. Both of them were too evasive, too careful with their words.

“So he’s just been… avoiding me because he’s busy?” You asked, your voice thick with skepticism.

Yvonne’s smile didn’t waver, but her eyes shifted just a little. “Exactly! He’ll reach out when he’s ready. Don’t worry.”

But you weren’t convinced. You couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something they weren’t telling you. Before you could press further, Yvonne’s phone rang, and she quickly excused herself with a bright, almost rehearsed smile.

Greyson rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I wouldn’t worry too much, Zayne’s just… well, Zayne. He’ll be back to his usual self soon enough.”

The words felt hollow, like a lie wrapped in a smile.

You turned to leave, the knot in your stomach tightening. Something wasn’t right, and you were more determined than ever to find out what was going on.

You even went to his home not two days after. You had been patient, given him space, but the silence between you was gnawing at you, and you couldn’t ignore it anymore.

You arrived at his place and paused outside the gate, your heart sinking. The house sat dark and still, as though no one had been home for hours. The front door was locked, the quiet expanse of the yard untouched. No sign of Zayne’s car in the driveway. No movement behind the windows.

Frowning, you reached for your phone, calling him once more. It rang, and rang… and rang. But there was no answer. No familiar voice on the other end. You tried again, and again—each unanswered call tightening the knot of anxiety in your chest. It was unlike him. Even when he was busy at work, he always answered your calls. You thought things had changed between you—gone beyond just childhood friends, past the barriers you once had.

You hadn’t been able to ignore the way things had shifted between the two of you, how you’d shared more, laughed more, and even kissed—moments that felt like stepping into something real, something undeniable. And yet now, in the silence, you felt that connection fraying, slipping out of your grasp.

You reached for the gate, testing it, but it was locked tight. The metal was cold beneath your fingers, the weight of it pressing down on you in a way you couldn’t quite shake. You knocked gently on the gate, your hand hesitant against the metal, but there was no answer. No sound from inside. No footsteps echoing in the distance. Just more silence.

You stood there for a moment, staring at the door, wondering if you were missing something, if you were just being paranoid. But there was no denying the gnawing sense that you were being shut out.

Yet now, here he stood, unannounced, uninvited. The sight of him should have brought relief, but something was off, like he was a mere shadow of the man you knew.

“You should’ve let me in sooner,” he murmured, a wry attempt at a smile barely forming before fading just as quickly. His voice was softer than usual, almost exhausted, like the fight had been taken out of him. You stepped aside instinctively, letting him in. He didn’t move right away. Instead, his gaze lingered on you—as if memorizing every detail, confirming that you were real, that this wasn’t just another one of his nightmares.

Then, finally, he stepped through. The door clicked shut behind him, sealing the two of you in the silence of your small apartment. He exhaled, but this time it was unsteady—as if releasing a breath he’d been holding for far too long. His hands trembled, and he shoved them into his coat pockets, a feeble attempt to mask the unease rolling off him in waves.

“Zayne, where have you been?” The question came out before you could stop it. His avoidance had gnawed at you, making every second of silence between you feel like it stretched on forever.

He hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor for a brief moment, like he was trying to find the right words. Then, finally, his voice broke through, hoarse and fragile, as if he’d been swallowing down too many words for too long. “Every time I close my eyes, I see a world where you don’t exist.”

The confession hit like thunder in your chest. Your breath caught, eyes wide with confusion, but something else too—fear, a strange sense of loss, creeping in. You stared at him, unable to comprehend, yet knowing there was so much more buried beneath the surface.

“It’s not just nightmares anymore,” he whispered, voice barely audible. His eyes flickered with something raw and unfamiliar—something you hadn’t seen in him before. “It’s bleeding into the day. I can’t… separate it. Separate me.”

You frowned, confusion tightening around your thoughts, heart pounding. “Separate what? Zayne, what are you talking about?”

He stiffened, jaw tightening as if he’d realized he’d said too much. He shook his head, dismissing the words before they could fully escape. “Ignore what I said.” he muttered, but the tension in his voice betrayed him.

“Zayne…” You stepped closer, cautious but firm. “Just tell me what’s wrong.”

A bitter chuckle escaped him, but there was no humor in it. His hand drifted to his temple, pressing hard as if trying to force something out of his mind. “I don’t know how to explain it.” His voice wavered slightly, a rare crack in his composure. “I don’t even know if it’s mine to explain.”

Your stomach twisted at his words. Zayne was rarely uncertain. But now, he looked lost, like he was trying to hold onto something slipping through his fingers. The man who had always been in control, who always had an answer, was unraveling in front of you.

“Then let me help,” you said softly, reaching for him.

He exhaled sharply, his hands clenching into fists before loosening just as quickly, as if even that took too much effort. “I don’t think you can,” he muttered, barely above a whisper.

You reached out, your fingers brushing against his sleeve. He tensed, but didn’t pull away. The warmth of his body under your touch should have felt familiar, comforting, but there was something cold in the air around him that you couldn’t ignore.

“I’m here,” you reminded him gently, voice steady despite the knot in your stomach. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His shoulders sagged just slightly, his resolve faltering under the weight of something neither of you could name. 

You guided Zayne to the couch with a soft insistence, his steps heavy, like each one was taking him further away from something he couldn’t quite grasp. He didn’t resist, but his hesitation was palpable. You noticed the subtle tremor in his shoulders as he sat down, his back stiff, as if the weight of the world was pressing down on him.

You sat next to him, your fingers brushing the fabric of his coat as you settled yourself. The space between you both felt charged, yet strained, like two magnets unwillingly attracted but refusing to align.

Your hand hovered near his arm, unsure, but you couldn’t ignore the impulse to reach out. The last few days—weeks—had felt like a slow, suffocating crawl through a fog. Seeing him like this, so unguarded, was both a relief and a deepening worry.

“Zayne…” You started, your voice low, soft. You weren’t sure how to approach him anymore. He had been pulling away, emotionally distant, and now, even his presence seemed fractured.

You reached out, your fingers brushing against his sleeve.

At the first touch, his body flinched. Not an outward movement, but a sharp intake of breath, like a quiet shudder that ran through him. His hazel-green eyes were blown wide, pupils dark and dilated, swallowing the soft color until only a thin ring of green remained. For a brief moment, he looked at you—through you—like he was caught between two realities, struggling to tether himself to the one in front of him.

Then, just as quickly, his gaze flickered away, his throat working around a breath that sounded too controlled, too measured. As if he was holding something back. The air between you thickened, the weight of his restraint pressing into the space between your fingers. His jaw tensed, a sharp line of tension beneath his skin, and yet—he didn’t move away.

With a careful breath, you let your hand rest against his arm, your fingers curling gently around the fabric of his coat. You felt him tense beneath your touch, but it wasn’t from discomfort. No, it was something else. Something deeper. His body shuddered again, more pronounced this time, and you could feel his muscles ripple under the strain of holding back.

“Zayne…” You said his name again, this time softer, as though you were speaking to someone who was slipping away. You moved a little closer, hoping that your proximity would ground him somehow, though you weren’t entirely sure how.

His voice cracked when he spoke, low and hoarse, like a man speaking to a ghost. “Every time you touch me… it’s like… I feel like I’m being pulled in two directions.”

You blinked, your heart skipping a beat as you tried to make sense of his words. “What do you mean?” you asked, your hand still resting on his arm, waiting, watching him closely.

Zayne exhaled slowly, his fingers twitching at his sides as if struggling to find an anchor. “I’ve always suffered from nightmares,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “The same ones I’ve always had since I was young. But after what happened at Chansia City…” His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “It didn’t stop when I woke up.”

Your heart clenched at his words. You knew Zayne had always been plagued by restless nights, but this—this was different. You thought back to that moment at Akso Hospital, when you had found him slumped over his desk.

His brow was creased with the weight of exhaustion. His breathing had been uneven, his hands gripping the fabric of his coat as if he were bracing himself against something unseen. You had hesitated before stepping closer, unsure if you should wake him. But the quiet distress on his face made the decision for you.

“Zayne…” you had whispered, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

The moment your fingers made contact, he jolted awake with a sharp breath, his eyes wild with something you couldn’t name. For a split second, it was as if he didn’t recognize you, as if he were somewhere else entirely.

But then, his gaze softened, reality bleeding back into him. His breathing was still heavy, his shoulders tense, but when you knelt beside him, concern written all over your face, he didn’t pull away.

Without thinking, you had reached out again, brushing his hair back in a quiet attempt to soothe him. His body sagged under your touch, the tension in his shoulders melting just enough for him to lean forward. And before you could react, he rested his forehead against your chest, his breaths uneven as if the simple act of being close to you was the only thing keeping him grounded.

You had stilled at first, heat creeping up your neck, but you didn’t push him away. Instead, you let him stay there, your fingers threading through his hair in slow, absentminded strokes. You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, the sound of his breathing evening out against you, his body losing some of its rigidness.

When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse, barely audible. “Just… let me stay like this for a while.”

And you had. Because for the first time, you realized how deeply tired he was.At the time, you thought he was just tired physically, but now you realized he was tired in a way that ran so much deeper as you watched him sitting on your couch, that same exhaustion clung to him like a shadow, only now it was accompanied by something far worse. He wasn’t just tired. He was unraveling.

“I thought I could ignore it,” he continued, pulling you back to the present. “I thought it would fade eventually. But it’s not stopping.” His fingers curled into the fabric of his coat as if trying to ground himself. “It’s getting worse.”

You swallowed hard. “The nightmares?”

“They’re not just nightmares anymore.” He exhaled sharply, his hands clenching before loosening again. “They’re memories of a life that isn’t mine.” His jaw tightened, his entire body tense with something unreadable. “And the worst part?” His eyes flickered to yours, dark and conflicted. “I feel like I’m walking on air, seeing things that aren’t there, feeling emotions that aren’t mine.”

You frowned. “Zayne, what are you talking about?”

His throat worked around a response, but for a moment, he said nothing, only looking at you with something close to desperation. He shook his head as if trying to shake off the words before they could leave his mouth.

“It doesn’t matter,” he muttered, but you weren’t about to let it go.

“It does matter,” you said firmly, stepping closer. “You’ve been avoiding me for more than a week. You look like you’re about to fall apart, and now you’re telling me ‘it doesn’t matter’? What’s happening to you?”

He let out a bitter chuckle, but there was no humor in it. “I don’t even know if I can explain it. It’s… there’s another version of me. One I can’t escape. And he—” Zayne cut himself off abruptly, dragging a hand over his face. “He’s ruining everything.”

The conflict in his expression made your stomach twist. You had never seen him like this—so lost, so tangled in something that seemed beyond even his understanding. And when you reached for him again, your fingers brushing past his sleeve against his skin, you saw the way he shuddered.

At first, you thought his reactions stemmed from discomfort—that every shudder, every tensed muscle was his way of pulling away. But then you saw it. The way his breath hitched. The way his lashes fluttered shut for the briefest second, as if savoring the warmth of your touch. As if he had been starving for it. 

It wasn’t rejection. It was restraint.

Your heart pounded. “Zayne…”

His fingers twitched at his sides before he finally spoke, his voice raw. “Every time you touch me…” He exhaled sharply, as if the words themselves were dangerous. “It’s like my world’s losing its sense of direction.”

His confession stole the air from your lungs.

“But it’s not just me that wants this,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “And that’s what scares me.”

Your fingers curled slightly around his wrist, grounding both of you in the silence between words. Zayne’s breath was uneven, his body strung taut beneath your touch. You could see it—the war waging within him, the push and pull of something he refused to name. His fingers curled at his sides, clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He was holding himself back.

But from what? From who?

The question burned at the edges of your mind, but you didn’t voice it. Instead, you did the only thing you could think of. You moved.

Slowly, you climbed onto the couch, onto him, your knees settling on either side of his thighs as you straddled his lap. His entire body went rigid beneath you, his breath stalling in his throat.

“You—” His voice broke, a warning tangled in desperation. His hands shot up, as if to push you away—but the moment his palms met your waist, he froze.

A violent shudder ran through him, his grip faltering but never leaving you. He barely held together, his fingers twitched against your sides, his body caught in an unbearable tension. 

“You shouldn’t…” he rasped, but even as he said it, his hands pulled.

Pulled you closer.

Pulled you flush against him, until there was no space left to retreat.

You gasped softly at the sudden contact, at the warmth of him, the way his body molded against yours like he had been starving for this. For you.

His head dipped forward, his forehead pressing against your shoulder as his breath came out in a harsh, unsteady exhale. His grip on your waist tightened, not enough to hurt, but enough to make you feel how badly he was struggling.

“Zayne…” You whispered his name, hands lifting to cradle his face, to guide him to look at you. He didn’t resist, but the moment your fingers brushed against his jaw, his eyes fluttered shut—his entire body reacting as if your touch was something he had been craving but forbidden from having.

“Every time you touch me…” He repeated, his voice was raw, nearly fractured. “I feel like I’m slipping deeper.”

Your fingers trembled slightly against his skin. “Slipping into what?”

His jaw clenched. His hands trembled against your waist, caught between pulling you closer and pushing you away.

“Him.”

The word sent a chill down your spine.

Zayne’s eyes finally opened, and what you saw there made your breath hitch.

Something was breaking inside him.

Something was bleeding through.

Like the fragile moment before dawn—when night still clung to the sky, desperate to remain, yet the light pressed forward, inevitable. A battle between darkness and the coming sun, neither willing to yield.

You didn’t know who he was, or why Zayne was fighting so hard to keep him at bay, but you could feel it—how much hewas longing for you. How much Zayne himself was afraid of that longing.

Your hands slid from his face to his shoulders, steadying him, grounding him. “You’re still you,” you murmured. “No one else.”

His fingers flexed against your waist, his breath ragged. “Then why does it feel like every time you touch me… I’m losing control of myself?”

He was slipping, unraveling, caught between two selves—one who had you, and one who had only ever ached for you.

And for the first time, Zayne wasn’t sure which one he wanted to be.

You sighed, your fingers curled against his shoulders, gripping him just a little tighter. His body was warm beneath your touch, but the tension in him never eased. If anything, it worsened.

“Zayne,” you whispered, searching his face. “Help me ease your mind, tell me everything. Tell me about him.”

His expression darkened instantly. His hands, still gripping your waist, stiffened before pushing you back—just slightly, just enough to put distance between you.

“No.”

The refusal was sharp, final.

But you didn’t let go. “Zayne, please.”

His jaw locked, his breath coming out in harsh exhales as he tried to rein himself in. But you had already seen it—the flicker of something raw in his gaze, the weight pressing down on him like it was crushing him from the inside.

He turned his head away, his grip tightening before he forced himself to let go. “I don’t want to tell you.” His voice was quieter now, but no less strained. “Because if I do…” His throat bobbed, his hands clenching into fists. “What if you look at me differently?”

Your chest ached. “Zayne—”

“He’s not me,” Zayne bit out, his voice lower now, edged with something close to rage. His fingers dug into the fabric of your clothes as if anchoring himself. “I don’t care what I see, what I feel—he is not me.”

You frowned, your heart pounding. “I didn’t say he was—”

“It doesn’t matter,” he snapped, his fingers digging into you much harder before he wrenched them away, as if touching you made it worse. “It shouldn’t matter. Because whatever he is—whatever he’s done—I am not him.”

His voice cracked at the end, his composure slipping, and it hurt more than anything. Not because of what he wasn’t telling you, but because he was carrying it alone, letting it eat away at him like he deserved it.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt. “Zayne, I don’t care what you think this means. I don’t care what’s bleeding through or what memories aren’t yours.” Your voice wavered, but you pushed through. “What hurts me isn’t who you were or weren’t—it’s this.” You gestured between the two of you, the distance he was trying to wedge between you. “It’s you shutting me out, punishing yourself like you have to carry this alone.”

Zayne let out a sharp breath, his fingers curling into fists against the curve of your waist. His grip was tense, hesitant—like he was still fighting himself.

You watched him carefully, the weight of his silence pressing against your chest. He had been resisting, keeping himself locked away behind walls you couldn’t breach. But this time… this time, something shifted.

And then you realized it.

It wasn’t your persistence that made him falter. It wasn’t even the promise that you would accept him, no matter what. It was the fact that you told him it hurt you too. That his silence, his self-inflicted suffering, didn’t just wound him—it wounded you.

Zayne’s throat bobbed, his gaze flickering, as if weighing the consequences of speaking the truth. His fingers flexed against you, his breath uneven.

Finally, he asked, “Do you know why I became a doctor?”

You hesitated. “Because you wanted to save people.”

“Partly,” He let out a bitter laugh. “But mostly because I spent my entire childhood dreaming of a man butchering them.” His hands raked through his hair, gripping at the strands.

“It started when I was twelve.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “I didn’t understand it then. I just knew that every night, I saw his hands, covered in blood. I heard the screams, felt the cold metal of a blade I never held.” His fingers flexed against your waist. “And every morning, I woke up terrified that I’d become him.”

You sucked in a quiet breath.

“That’s why I became a doctor,” Zayne muttered, his voice barely audible now. “To erase him. To bury him. Every life I saved was another step away from him.” His gaze snapped back to you, and there was something close to desperation in it.

He paused, and his gaze softened just slightly as it met yours, though there was still that edge of desperation.

“And… I wanted to help you, too. Since the first time I saw you struggling with your heart… I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you, not like that.”

Your heart pounded. “Zayne…”

“But now?” His gaze locked onto yours, and you almost flinched at the intensity in his eyes. “Now it’s not just nightmares. After Chansia City… it’s like something cracked. Like I bled through him.”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

His fingers flexed against your skin, then curled into a fist, as if the words physically hurt to say. “I used to only see flashes. His world, his sins—they were nothing more than fragments. But now? I see his everyday life.” His voice dropped lower, as if saying it out loud made it more real. “I see him waking up in an empty apartment, walking through streets that no longer have names. I see him looking for something—someone—who was never there.”

Your chest tightened. “Zayne—”

“And I know what that loneliness feels like.” His voice was rough, raw. “Because when I had nightmares of his life… he dreamt of mine.”

A chill ran through you.

“He dreamt of Linkon. Of Akso. Of—” He swallowed hard, his grip on you unyielding. “You.”

The word hung between you, heavy and fragile at the same time.

“Now, he’s clawing his way into my thoughts, trying to make sense of a life that isn’t his to have.” Zayne’s hands curled into the fabric of your clothes, as if anchoring himself to something tangible. “And every time I look at you—” His voice cracked, his hands shaking as he clutched you. “He’s reaching for you. And I don’t know if it’s me who wants you or if it’s him bleeding through.”

Your heart pounded.

His pain was something you could see, something you could feel in the way he held you too tightly, in the way he refused to look away, as if afraid you’d vanish if he did.

“Does it change anything?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Zayne’s breath stilled.

“No, it doesn’t,” he admitted, his voice hoarse. “I want you. I do. I’ve never denied that.” His fingers curled against your skin, holding you closer. “But this… it’s never felt like this before.”

His gaze darkened, his brows drawing together. “Like I can’t go a second without feeling you, without needing you right here. And I don’t know if it’s just me—if it’s always been me—or if it’s him. But it doesn’t matter.” His voice dropped lower, rough with something unspoken. “Because either way… I still want you.”

You reached up, cupping his cheek, forcing him to meet your gaze. “You’re here, right now. Whatever he feels, whatever he wants—this moment belongs to you.”

His throat bobbed, the conflict in his gaze raw and unfiltered. His fingers twitched where they held you, as if he wanted to push you away and pull you closer all at once.

And then—finally—he whispered, “I don’t know if I can separate us anymore.”

Zayne’s breath hitched, his hands still gripping your waist like a man on the verge of breaking. His body was rigid beneath yours, every muscle coiled tight with restraint. His stormy eyes flickered between your lips and your gaze, warring with something unseen.

You could feel it—the way he was holding himself back, the way his fingers twitched against your skin like he was fighting the instinct to pull you in.

And then, just when you thought he might push you away—he moved.

His lips crashed against yours, the kiss rough, almost desperate. A sharp inhale left him as his fingers tightened at your sides, pressing you flush against him. It wasn’t careful, wasn’t measured like everything else about him. It was hurried, hungry, as if he had been drowning for far too long and you were the only thing keeping him afloat.

Yet even in his desperation, there was hesitation—a tremor in his touch, a battle within him. His grip faltered, his breathing unsteady, as if his own emotions were overwhelming him.

For a moment, he slowed, his lips ghosting over yours, softer now—less frantic, more reverent. His fingers traced up your back, like he was memorizing every inch of you, terrified you might disappear.

But then when you surged forward to deepen the kiss, something in him snapped.

His restraint shattered as his hand cupped the back of your head, pulling you deeper into the kiss. His other hand dug into your waist, as if grounding himself in the feeling of you. He let out a quiet, shuddering breath against your lips, his body trembling beneath your touch.

It wasn’t just desire—it was longing. A desperate, aching need that had been simmering beneath his skin for far too long.

And still, it wasn’t enough.

He kissed you harder, as if trying to chase away the ghosts of a world where you didn’t exist—where he had spent endless nights reaching for something that was never there.

Zayne’s breathing was ragged as he suddenly tore himself away from you, his forehead pressing against yours, his grip on your waist still firm but trembling. His chest rose and fell in unsteady heaves, as if he had just surfaced from deep waters.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he rasped, his voice thick with something raw and desperate. His fingers flexed against your waist before slowly dragging up your sides, his touch both grounding and possessive. “But I need to feel—” His words cut off, a quiet ‘fuck’ slipping from his lips as he clenched his jaw, forcing himself to stop.

You could see it—feel it. The battle raging within him. The desperate need to claim this moment as his own, to separate himself, to make sure that this—this longing, this ache, this hunger—was his, and not something bleeding over from the nightmares that haunted him.

His fingers ghosted over your arms before gripping your wrists, guiding them up to rest against his chest. You could feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palms, erratic and heavy, proof of his struggle. His eyes searched yours, dark with emotion, pleading for something he couldn’t voice.

“I need to know it’s me,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not him. Not the dreams. Just… me. But I don’t trust myself enough not to hurt you.”

His fingers brushed your skin, hesitant, reverent—like he was afraid of his own hands.

“But I trust you.”

The words felt heavier than anything else he had said tonight, laced with the weight of every nightmare, every fear, every ghost of a life that wasn’t his. He swallowed hard, his gaze flickering to your lips, then back to your eyes.

“I need you to take control,” he murmured, each syllable careful, deliberate. “I need to know this is real—that you’re real—that I’m real.” His hands curled into fists before he forced them to relax against you. “Because if I let go now… I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop.”

There was no mistaking what he meant. No mistaking the conflict in his gaze—the desperation tangled with restraint, the need warring with self-loathing.

Your hands slid up from his chest to cup his face, fingertips brushing against the sharp angles of his jaw. 

“It’s you, Zayne,” you whispered, your voice steady, certain. “You.”

You tilted his face up, brushing your lips against his—a whisper of a touch, just enough to tether him to the present, to this moment with you. He shuddered beneath your touch, his hands tightening at your waist as if anchoring himself.

“I’m here,” you continued, pressing another soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, then another along the line of his jaw. “This is real. We’re real.”

A sharp exhale left him, his resolve breaking little by little as you pressed against him. His grip on your waist faltered, then returned, stronger—desperate.

“Let me take care of you,” you murmured against his skin.

He shuddered at your words, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he wrestled with the warring emotions inside him. When they opened again, the desperation had intensified, the dark gray irises nearly swallowed by the black of his pupils.

“Show me,” he rasped, his voice low and rough with barely restrained desire. “Make me believe it.”

You took your time, trailing kisses along his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath his shirt as your lips travelled down. You wanted to savor this moment, to make sure he knew it was him, that this was real.

As you sank to your knees before him, you looked up at Zayne through your lashes. The raw vulnerability in his expression made your heart ache. You wanted to erase every nightmare, every fear, every shadow that haunted him.

“You’re real,” you murmured, your breath ghosting over his cloth-covered arousal. “This is real.”

With a steadying breath, you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the bulge straining against his zipper. You could feel the heat of him, the throbbing need, and it made your own body ache in response.

You worked slowly, unzipping him with deliberate care, letting your fingers brush against his arousal as you did. He was already hard, the thick length of him stretching the fabric of his boxers. 

You haven’t seen him naked before, and crossing this line made your thighs clench. Glancing up at him, you caught his gaze, holding it as you hooked your fingers in the waistband of his boxers and tugged them down. His cock sprang free, long and thick and perfect, the swollen head already glistening with need.

“Beautiful,” you whispered, wrapping your hand around the thick base of Zayne’s cock, giving him a firm squeeze as you gazed up at him with hooded eyes. “You’re beautiful, Zayne.”

Slowly, teasingly, you started to stroke him, your soft palm gliding along his hard length. You could feel every throbbing vein and ridge, committing the shape of him to memory.

Leaning in, you breathed over his swollen cock head, then, with a deliberate slowness that was almost torturous, you dragged the flat of your tongue along the underside of his shaft, tracing the thick vein that ran from base to tip. You lingered at the sensitive spot just below the head, swirling your tongue around it before giving it a firm press.

Zayne shuddered and groaned, his fingers flexing in your hair as you dragged your tongue back down to the base, your hand following the same path. When you reached the bottom, you dipped your tongue into the neat little slit at the tip, tasting the first salty drops of his arousal.

Savoring his flavor, you wrapped your lips around the swollen head, your soft mouth stretching around his impressive girth. You suckled gently, your cheeks hollowing as you began to take him deeper, inch by hard inch.

“Your mouth… it feels so g-good…” he groaned.

The praise that escaped his lips made the flush on your face more evident. As your lips moved slowly down his shaft, encasing him in the slick heat of your mouth, your tongue undulated along the thick vein on the underside as you took him deeper, until the head of his cock bumped the back of your throat.

You held yourself there for a long moment, relishing the heavy, throbbing weight of him, the musky scent of his arousal flooding your senses. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, you began to bob your head, taking him deeper into your throat with each downward motion.

Your hand worked in tandem with your mouth, stroking and squeezing as you sucked him. You could feel him growing harder, the thick length of him pulsing against your tongue as you pleasured him.

“Fuck… just like that…”

You couldn’t help but moan around his cock at his groans, your brain committing the sounds to memory. You doubled your efforts when you felt he was close, sucking harder, stroking faster, your tongue never still as it lapped and swirled and caressed every hard, throbbing inch of him.

His grip on your hair tightened, his hips starting to piston forward, fucking your mouth as you sucked him with wild abandon. You could feel his body tensing, his breath coming in harsh pants and groans. 

“I can’t… I can’t hold back much longer…”

And then, with a roar that was nearly feral in its intensity, he came. His cock jerked and throbbed as it erupted, shooting hot, thick ropes of cum down your eager throat.

You swallowed it all, working your throat to milk every last drop from his pulsing length. The taste of him was intense, the salty-sweet flavor of his essence exploding on your tongue.

As the waves of his release began to ebb, you slowly pulled back, letting his still hard cock slip from your lips with a lewd pop. You licked your lips, savoring the lingering taste of him as you gazed up at Zayne with a look of pure, sated desire.

“Zayne,” you whispered, your voice hoarse. “It’s you. This is you. You’re real.”

You placed a soft, lingering kiss on the tip of his cock before nuzzling your cheek against his thigh, looking up at him with a smile that was pure tenderness mixed with deep, abiding lust.

As the last tremors of his intense orgasm faded, Zayne reached down and gently but firmly pulled you up by your arms, urging you back into his lap. You went willingly, straddling his hips as you sat facing him.

His hands slid around to your back, one resting high on the curve of your shoulder blades, the other splayed across the small of your back, pulling you flush against his strong chest. You could feel the heat radiating off his skin, the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palms.

Gazing into your eyes, Zayne leaned in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that steals your breath. It was a kiss filled with gratitude, with hunger, with a desperate need to claim you, to make you his.

You kissed him back just as fiercely, your fingers tangling in his hair as you arched into him, pressing your soft curves against the hard planes of his body. His tongue delved into your mouth, stroking along yours, tasting himself on your lips and tongue.

As you both lost yourselves in the kiss, you could feel Zayne’s cock, still semi-erect and slick with your saliva, nudging against your core. The friction sent sparks of pleasure shooting through you, making you ache with a renewed desire.

Almost unconsciously, your hips began to move, grinding against his in a slow, sensual rhythm. You could feel the heat building between your thighs, the dampness of your arousal soaking through your panties.

Zayne groaned into your mouth, his grip on your waist tightening as he felt your hips rolling against his. His cock twitched and began to harden further, growing thicker and longer with each passing second.

Breaking the kiss, Zayne trailed his lips down the column of your throat, his teeth grazing your racing pulse. “Ride me,” he growled against your skin, his voice low and rough with renewed desire. “I need to feel you, all of you, surrounding me, consuming me, making me forget everything but your name.”

You shuddered at his words, at the raw, primal need in his voice. Reaching down, you pushed your panties aside, baring your slick, needy sex to the cool air and his heated gaze. You could feel your own arousal dripping down your thighs, a testament to how much you wanted him, needed him.

With a roll of your hips, you positioned yourself over his hardening length, feeling the thick head nudging against your entrance, you slowly sank down. You were so wet, so ready for him, that he slid inside you with a single, smooth thrust.

You both groaned at the sensation, your inner walls fluttering and clenching around his thickness as he stretched and filled you completely. You could feel every ridge and vein of his cock as it brushed against your sensitive flesh, igniting nerve endings you didn’t know you had.

Zayne’s hands gripped your hips, guiding your movements as you began to ride him. You started slowly, rising up until just the tip of his cock remained inside you, before sinking back down, taking him to the hilt.

“You feel so good, love.” he murmured, his lips parted open.

With each downward motion, you could feel the pleasure building, the coil of tension in your core winding tighter and tighter. 

You arched your back and Zayne leaned forward, freeing your breasts from the confines of your shirt as he lifted it by the hem. He captured one straining nipple in his mouth, suckling and nipping at the sensitive bud. His free hand slid from your hip to the juncture between your thighs, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing the swollen nub in tight, fast circles.

You cried out, your head falling back as the sensations overwhelmed you. Your hips moved faster, rising and falling in a frantic rhythm as you chased your pleasure. The wet, obscene sounds of your coupling filled the room, spurring you both on.

His other hand inch upward, holding your head firmly, his fingers tangling in your hair, Zayne tilted your chin up to gently force your gaze to meet his intense, hazel-eyed stare. He let out a strangled moan, “Say my name, love. Come on…”

Zayne’s grip on your hips tightened, his fingertips digging into the soft flesh as he guided your increasingly desperate movements. His own hips surged up to meet yours, driving his thick length deeper, harder, faster into your clutching heat.

“Zayne,” you breathed, “You’re the only one I want, the only one I need.”

His breathing grew ragged, each exhale escaping through gritted teeth as he lost himself in the slick slide of your bodies joining again and again. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the room, mixing with the staccato cries spilling from your lips.

Zayne’s hand moved from your clit to your breast, squeezing the soft mound roughly as he pinched and rolled the stiff peak between his fingers. He leaned down, his hair falling forward as he dragged his tongue over your collarbone, tasting the salt of your skin.

“Fuck, just like that…” he growled against your neck, his voice strained. “S-Say my name again—please…”

His words sent shivers down your spine, making your inner muscles clench around him. You could feel every ridge and vein of his cock as it stretched you, filled you, owned you.

“Z-Zayne…!” you moaned.

Zayne’s thrusts became more erratic, more desperate at the cry from your lips. The hand on your hip slid around to the small of your back, pressing you flush against him as he pounded up into you. The couch creaking with each surge of his hips, the sound mingling with your cries and his grunts.

You could feel the tension building in your core, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter as you climbed towards your peak. Your nails raked down Zayne’s nape as you held on for dear life.

With a harsh curse, Zayne slammed up into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt as his release overtook him. His cock jerked and pulsed inside you, painting your insides with his hot release.

The sensation of his release pushed you over the edge, your own climax crashing through you like a tidal wave. Your body convulsed, melting into him as your inner muscles clamped down around him while you came apart in his arms.

You collapsed against his chest, both of you gasping for air as the aftershocks of your release rippled through you. Zayne’s arms tightened around you, drawing you in close, his heartbeat steady beneath his damp shirt, grounding you in the moment.

In the quiet aftermath, as your breath began to steady, Zayne placed a gentle kiss against your temple, his lips lingering there as if memorizing the moment. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice raw and heavy with emotion. “For this. For everything.”

You gently cupped his face, guiding him to look at you. “You have me, Zayne,” you said softly, your words steady and sure. “No matter who you are, no matter who you become—I’ll never walk away.”

He paused as his fingers brushed gently across your damp cheek.

He spoke, his voice was soft, almost hesitant. “All I know now is that… the only thing I’m sure of,” he began, his forehead resting against yours once more, “is you.” He swallowed, his grip around you tightening as if trying to ground himself in the present.

You thought that would be the end of it, but he exhaled, a shudder racking through him.

“I never believed in fate,” he added, his voice low, but without any trace of bitterness—only a quiet acceptance. “But now, I do. Because no matter where I am, or who I am… you’re the constant. The one thing that’s always been real.”

He paused, his words heavy with an ache that tightened your chest. “And I think… I think I’m meant to love you in every life, in every timeline. I’m meant to be with you. And no matter how complicated it gets, no matter what happens, I’ll always end up finding you.”

His grip on you tightened further, pulling you closer, as if to make sure you were really there. “Now… I can’t help but feel… bad for him.”

A heavy sigh escaped him, thick with weight and regret. “He doesn’t have you. He doesn’t get to have this—this connection.” His voice wavered, raw with something unspoken. “And I think that’s what hurts the most. No matter how much I try to separate myself from him, I can’t shake the feeling that a version of me is still reaching for you. That somewhere… in every universe, in every life, even if you don’t exist in it—it will always be you.”

part one | part two

likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated <3 if you want to check out more of my writings, head on to here — masterlist.

[bunny-jpeg]

raw

lando norris

tags: smut/pwp, unprotected/unsafe sex, half-assed pull out method, doggy style, back shots, friends-to-lovers, best friend!lando

lando had to be dreaming. the type of dream he didn't want to wake-up from. he would much rather be here than anywhere else right now. especially as you crossed your arms, letting the mclaren logo stretch across your pretty tits.

the tits that lando had been eyeing for years now. you were his best friend since childhood and now you were in your hotel room for the evening after silverstone with a single request for the grand prix's winner.

fuck me. and fuck me raw. lando had to be dreaming.

you uncrossed your arms and leaned back on the bed with your arms stretched behind you. you gazed up at him. the face of your best friend, the one who knew you better than anyone else. and after years of skirting around the issue, you finally found your words and asked him. and he looked you dumbfounded.

"you? me?" he said as he tried to process your words. you felt a tightness in your chest at the anxiety that was eating you up inside. you didn't know what to say or do.

"am i speaking french, lando? i want to have sex with you, it's about time we resolve this tension. it's been going on for over ten years." you said as you maintained eye contact with him. you felt a little bad for not being the most romantic.

it was hard for you to admit. your entire life you stood firm on the fact that men and women could be friends without any complications! and while you still felt that, you also found yourself with complicated feelings for lando. so, with all the bravery you could muster, you asked for sex.

he shifted from one foot to another, "i don't know how to respond... i mean i do. i just don't wanna sound like a pervert." he chuckled nervously and you only grew warmer in your face.

"do you want me, norris?"

he took his hands out of the pockets of his joggers and cupped his barely hidden erection. he gave you a gentle smile as he said, "i do. i do want you, you've been the subject of my fantasies for a long, long time." and started to take his shirt off.

you did the same, slowly revealing more skin to one another. you felt excitement race up you and you couldn't help yourself. you rubbed your thighs together and felt your pulse pick up.

"lando."

"i know, babe. i know." he chuckled as he got into bed with you. he got his boxers off before he was completely nude, his hands trailed across your body in a manner that left you excited all over.

if your friends knew what you two were doing tonight, hell even your own families, you knew that there would be exchanging high-fives and possibly money over bets made ages ago.

"may i?" he asked as he leaned in closer.

you leaned in to meet the distance and kissed him on the lips. soft as you imagined and his hands only held onto you in a way that made you shudder under him. you moaned into the kiss as he rubbed up against you.

"you tell me if anything goes wrong, okay? don't hide from me." he said, "one thing i hate when it comes to sex, no communication. i want to make my best friend feel good."

you looped your arms around his neck and pressed your chest against his, "i have a feel after tonight we're not going to be best friends."

lando replied, "well, you'll always be my best friend. you'll just also be my girlfriend." then winked before he went in for another kiss. it grew heated and his touches grew more bold.

you looked at him and he smiled down at you. he cupped your cheek while you held him close. it felt right to be this way, to be so close. you kissed him once more and he exhaled deeply against your lips. you two fit perfectly together, just as you always did.

"you want it raw?"

"yes."

"i'll pull out, alright? gotta play it a little safe." he kissed the apple of your cheek before you ended up on your stomach. he hiked you hips up letting your back curve as he pressed himself against you. now on his knees and his cock at full attention.

you looked amazing, beyond amazing. a certain type of beautiful that when lando sank into you wet cunt, he felt the race of excitement through his body. he held onto your hips and carefully inched himself into you. he moaned a little louder, the feeling was intense, there was nothing else he could compare it to you. you were unlike anyone else he had ever slept with. it was different because you two were so close, you shared everything. now you were sharing a night of heated passion.

he admired your backside as he rocked against you. his hand trailed down your back and he loomed over you. you felt amazing, you left a certain want in the back of his throat as he moved against you. lifelong friends, partners through and through. now lovers in bed together, moving together in a heated ecstasy. you both wanted each other, it was painfully obvious.

"you feel amazing." he said softly, "really amazing."

"glad i have a glowing review from lando norris." you chuckled lightly as you held onto the covers under you, your back arched a little more as he hit all the right spots, "can i put that on my tinder profile?"

he pushed you further down onto the bed by the shoulders and moved against you faster, "no way. because you're not going on tinder." he kissed the center of your back as he held you, "because you're my girl now. how does that sound? no more lackluster tinder dates and finally being with the guy you had a crush on for years." then laid another sweet kiss on your heated skin.

you felt the stimulation, your brain felt a little hazy. you moaned a little bit and tensed up for a moment. you panted, "fucking hell, lando. always a way with words." you looked over your shoulder at him as he thrusted against you, "got us into trouble and out of trouble over the words."

he gave you a wicked grin and replied, "oh yeah, and you love it," then pressed into you further. hands on your hips once more as he worked himself against you. the pleasure was zaps in his blood and the feeling was immense.

this was his best friend, and maybe years of pining left him feeling desperate for you. he spent years trying to find you in other people. turned out the whole time he just could have had you. and that made him feel a flutter of love in his chest.

"you feel amazing." he said softly, "better than i could ever imagine. you spoil me, honey." he chuckled lowly as he kissed the shell of your ear as he continued to move against you a little faster.

"fuck, lando." you exhaled deeply, paired with a soft whine as his cock hit against all the right areas. it felt good, better than you could imagine yourself. you knew a younger you would be blushing at the idea that you finally got with lando. having sex in a spacious hotel room and letting him just have his way with you. you fit together quite well, it didn't hurt that you were soaked in the process.

achy for sex. achy for him. you were needy for the sexual pleasure between the two of you. like two magnets drawn together no matter the distance. you were his best friend, and now his lover. his girl.

you moaned a little louder as the pleasure started to reach its peak inside of you. you held onto the covers under you and arched your back a little further. you cursed into the covers and the sight of you was beautiful. to come completely apart under his touch.

"beautiful." he said softly.

"fuck, lando." you shuddered and was met with a hard pat on your behind. the feeling of his hands on you, "you better fucking pull out or i'm gonna kill you."

"of course, of course.' he cooed, "save the kids for after marriage." his tone was cheeky and your pussy clenched around him. he chuckled and leaned up against your ear, "cute." and you whined.

his quickened his pace and he felt the hunger for you in his core. he couldn't believe it. part of him believed that he got hit in the head on the track and this was a fantasy of his. but, hey, if he was currently in the hospital with a goose egg on his head from being hit and this was what his rattled brain could come up with. then who was he to deny it. especially when you felt so good under him.

you tensed up around him once more and gasped against the covers. your eyes squeezed shut as you let out such a sweet moan. you shuddered as you felt yourself reach your orgasm, "fuck." even swears sounded heavenly on your lips.

he remembered trading pokemon cards with you, the time you watched him kart and cheered the loudest out of everyone. the times together, the totally platonic sleepovers. everything, fuck. to have you now, not as a friend but as a lover. that was everything to him.

you climaxed and it only pushed lando further. he pushed right up into you and made you near scream from the sensation. you two moved against each other roughly. but lando had to keep a sense of control or else he was going to finish inside of you.

"that's it. baby, that's it. fucking perfect for me.' his voice heavy with lust and it made your head throb. your cursed into the covers and lando fucked you harder, "next time i'm gonna make you finish twice. burn out your brain." he kissed your cheek, "perfect girl deserves all the orgasms she wants."

"flirt." you whined, face shoved into the covers, which only made lando laugh.

"glad you finally picked up on it, after fifteen years as friends." he thrusted into you a few more times before he pulled himself out and rapidly jerked off his cock against your back. it wasn't the same as the what of your cunt, but it would have to do. his pants were heavy as he said, "that's it, baby. fuck, look at you. you have driven me crazy my entire life. no one else can compare to you."

you laid there panting, your core swamped with wetness and your back curved to let him paint your back with his cum. you whined when you felt the splash of his cum against your backside.

"fuck." his voice was guttural, his breathing heavy and his eyes near rolled back into his head as he came across your hot skin. he felt sparks in his brain and could barely form a coherent thought as he came.

when it was all said and done, he rested fully on his heels, his cock limp between his legs. he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and exhaled deeply.

you laid there, not wanting to get cum all over the sheets. as the temperature in the room cooled, you lifted your head a little and said, "lando... can you help me clean up?"

and your best friend turned lover woke back up from his sexual trance and said, "oh, of course! yeah!" then quickly went to find a towel in the bathroom.

you knew you'd had to have a conversation about what you were now. but with butterflies in your stomach you knew you wouldn't be walking out of your hotel room without a lando as your boyfriend <3